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mishasminions · 4 years

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Here’s why the Supernatural Series Finale Sucked

(AND IT REALLY ISN’T JUST BECAUSE CAS/MISHA WASN’T IN IT)

First of all, I’d like to state, that this perspective is coming from someone who has watched, invested in, and dissected this show for 15 years. I’ve tried to rationalize and justify every single decision each of the main characters made throughout the years, and I’ve always tried to make sense of each of their story arcs from a “bigger picture” standpoint as each season progressed.

Anyway, before I can properly explain why the finale sucked, let me quickly take you through 15 seasons by segregating them into 3 eras, because you can’t really comprehend what Supernatural is about and what it’s become without going through how it tried to expand its universe.

SEASONS 1-5: THE KRIPKE ERA

Now, we all know that Kripke was always set in wrapping up Sam and Dean’s story in 5 seasons, and he did just that.

So, in this era, Supernatural is about two brothers who set out on a journey to fulfill “the family business”. They hunt mythical monsters that terrorize the world, while battling the monsters within themselves. Their ultimate “big bad” is an apocalypse.

Towards the end of this era, we find out that Sam and Dean are actually a parallel to Biblical characters who are brothers turned rivals. And that Sam and Dean’s destiny is to go up against each other.

However, as a dynamic, they have always been about making their own choices, choosing free will, and having a brotherly bond that can power through against any obstacle at any given day.

So, this era is neatly wrapped up with its finale. The characters grow, and get justified endings.

Dean, a man who thinks of himself as two things: 1. Sam’s older brother and protector; and 2. Daddy’s blunt little instrument.

He’s spent his whole life believing that that was his only purpose, and he knew that the only ending he’ll get would either be a bloody death fulfilling his duty to the family business; or laying his life on the line to save his brother.

Dean gets the ending he thought was never possible for him, something he thought he could never deserve. After years of living and dying for his family, he gets a shot at having an apple pie life--to settle down with a nice girl, raise a kid in a house with a white picket fence. With Sam gone, Dean’s responsibility now is to himself.

Sam, on the other hand, never wanted any part of it, because he wasn’t groomed the way Dean was, and because thanks to Dean, Sam wasn’t traumatized or forced into growing up too quickly the way Dean was.

So Sam aspires for a normal life, and works the cases with Dean so he can maybe get some semblance of it, when everything they set out to kill are laid to rest.

Ultimately, Sam performs a selfless act for his brother, who has given up everything for him, and for their cause--to save the world.

The journey is this: Dean sacrifices everything to save Sam, and Sam sacrifices himself so Dean could live.

Apart from being Dean’s “savior” and guardian angel, Castiel’s role in this era is to serve as a mirror to Dean’s journey. Castiel goes from being heaven’s foot soldier, following “God’s orders”; to an angel who learns to choose and feel for the first time in his existence.

After they realize that they’re both daddy’s blunt instruments, Dean starts choosing his own path for himself, and convinces Castiel to join him. Castiel stops following heaven, and starts following Dean.

In the end, with his newfound understanding of the world thanks to Dean, Castiel goes back to heaven to reform it.

We’ve resolved the biblical arc, and the character journeys.

SEASONS 6-10: THE SPIN-OFF ERA

So this is where the show realizes how vast its universe can be, so it tries to expand it by tapping into uncharted lands and experimenting with it.

They take on heaven, reform hell, explore purgatory, have the angels fall, turn Dean into a demon, and kill Death.

Dean and Sam recognize their codependency, and try to rise above it.

They go back and forth between which brother will risk it all for the greater good every other season.

Dean and Cas strengthen their relationship by recognizing the impact they have on each other’s lives.

Cas structures his life and decisions around Dean (Seasons 6-7), and Dean learns to trust and fight for Cas (Seasons 8-9).

Sam and Cas bond (mostly over Dean) because of their shared rationales in decision-making.

Dean, Sam, and even Cas also forge relationships with the people they work with. The concept of “found family” is introduced here.

This era was heavy on the plot while establishing, reinforcing, and solidifying relationships and dynamics.

At this point, it wasn’t just about the brothers anymore.

If Supernatural had ended in Season 10, the logical finale would’ve been Team Free Will, along with the family that they’ve found, going up against the latest big bad (Death or whoever). Maybe they lose them along the way, maybe they all make it out alive, or maybe they go down swinging, but at least the show recognizes and supports the message they keep saying, “Family don’t end with blood”

SEASONS 11-15: THE REWRITE ERA

This is where the show runs out of ideas and decides to invalidate the seasons that came before it.

From bringing Mary back (basically rendering their whole journey pointless because they’ve literally started hunting because of her death), to changing the stipulations in being Michael and Lucifer’s vessels (another character struggle rendered useless), to God himself breaking the fourth wall by saying that the Winchesters get away with everything because “they’re the main characters in his story and everything they’ve been through was just part of a badly written narrative”.

But what we’re getting from this era is that Sam and Dean, along with Cas (who has also deviated from the story) ARE trying to escape a badly written narrative.

That’s the “big bad” in this era. The writer.

At this point, the characters have picked up so many strays (including those from alternate universes), and have settled into their roles in their “found family”. Dean, Sam, and Cas all become surrogate dads and uncles.

They’ve also graduated from the whole “we’re on different sides” and “going behind each other’s backs” drama. And they just want the whole family together.

They’ve all resigned themselves to the cause, but they’re also tired. Dean allows himself to contemplate about wanting more out of life or at least getting a vacation. Sam, on the other hand, realizes his capabilities as an effective leader. Castiel learns to love another being that isn’t Dean (spoiler: it’s Jack).

However, they also realize that they’ve just been puppets on a string all this time.

So what they want now, is to write their own story, and make their own choices knowing that God/the writer isn’t the one fueling their narrative.

So here’s why the finale sucks:

Andrew Dabb, the current showrunner, said that there would be two finales.

15x19 - The finale to wrap up Season 15, and 15x20 - The finale to wrap up the series by “resolving the characters’ journey”

In 15x19 the boys find a way to de-power God/the writer. For the first time in their whole lives, they are free from the story. Their lives are completely theirs now. They can make their own decisions. There are no more “big bads” to fight

And here’s what happens in 15x20:

Immediately after being freed from their story arc, Dean and Sam go back to hunting the monster of the week.

Dean eats pie, gets nailed (literally), makes a 10-minute speech to Sam because he knows he’s dying, then he goes to heaven.

Dean is greeted by Bobby, his surrogate Dad who he hasn’t seen (fully alive) since Season 7. Bobby’s expository dialogue comprises of him explaining that he got out of heaven’s jail, that John and Mary are next door, and that Jack and Cas fixed the dynamics of heaven off-screen.

The first thing Dean decides to do is go for a long drive in his Impala (as if he hasn’t done enough of that already).

Meanwhile, Sam decides to stop hunting after Dean dies, he gets the apple pie life he hadn’t wanted since Season 8 (while Dean was in Purgatory), and names his kid “Dean” for effect. He grows old and dies.

Dean drove around in heaven for so long that Sam catches up to him.

They hug. The end.

Great, right?

After 15 years of struggling to battle their own respective destinies, going up against big bads and even bigger bads, then finally being able to take charge of their own stories, Dean and Sam regress to hunting the monster of the week, and get killed off by a nail and old age. Okay.

Sam gets to retire and have a family, sure, but they still focus on him and the kid he named after his dead brother. Still just “Sam and Dean” through and through. Nothing to do with found family. Just lineage. Just blood. And it ends there.

See, the problem here is that this ending would’ve been passable in The Kripke Era. But we’re 10 years down the road since, and while Sam and Dean are the original main characters, the show isn’t just about them and their codependent relationship anymore.

So you see, even if you take out the whole “Castiel deserves to be in the finale because he’s also a main character with an unfinished story arc” argument, the finale still does no justice to the series it tried to “wrap up”.

But anyway, now I’ll make the case for the problem with Castiel not being in the finale:

In 15x18, we get a 5-minute rushed confession from Castiel to Dean. The context of which are as follows:

1. Earlier in the episode, Dean had wounded Death with her scythe. We later find out that this wound is fatal.

2. Their friends start to “blip out” in a Thanos-like snap, and Dean thinks that Death is causing it, so Dean seeks her out, and Cas goes with him.

3. Dean and Cas anger Death, apparently for no reason because she didn’t even do the thing they thought she did. She chases them to try to kill them

4. Dean and Cas lock themselves in a room. Dean starts a pity party.

5. As Dean goes through hating himself out loud, Cas decides to inform Dean of the deal he made with The Empty. He then proceeds to explain the stipulation of the deal (that he would get taken once he experiences a moment of true happiness), then discusses his newfound happiness philosophy. Dean is getting whiplash.

6. Cas goes on to imply that the one thing that he wanted that he knew he couldn’t have is Dean Winchester reciprocating his romantic feelings for him. (Don’t even try to fight me on this because Cas already has Dean’s platonic love, and he knows that Dean thinks of him as a brother, so if he really meant this in a “familial” way, then why would he think that he couldn’t have the thing that would make him happy?) So Cas’ realization is that telling Dean about his feelings is enough to make him happy.

7. Cas tells Dean all the reasons why he loves him (thereby combating Dean’s self-deprecation tirade), and all the reasons why he’s worthy of his love. Meanwhile, Dean is still winded from the fact that Cas is about to sacrifice himself for him again.

8. Dean never gets to process anything, because Cas is shoving him out of the way, as he and Death (who busts through the door) get taken by The Empty.

After this episode, Dean never speaks of it. Misha Collins supposes that Dean doesn’t reciprocate. Jensen Ackles says that Dean didn’t really get to process it because it was too much, too fast, and that Dean, still dense as ever, thinks that Cas, a celestial being, doesn’t interpret human feelings the same way.

So what was the point of this confession?

Politics and sensitivities of a 2005 network television aside, what does this do for the story?

Cas proclaims his romantic feelings to Dean, but Dean never acknowledges it, doesn’t even give it a passing thought afterwards. So Cas’ big declaration goes unheard.

Cas cashes in on his Empty deal to kill Death (who was dying anyway), in order to save Dean who dies two episodes after.

Dean makes no effort to save Cas (despite being really broken up about his previous deaths, or even spending a whole year in Purgatory looking for him), even after they’ve beaten God, not even asking Jack (who has all the power in the universe) to bring him back (when Jack has already done it before, with less mojo).

Dean moves on to fight the monster of the week. Somewhere off-screen, Jack rescues Cas from The Empty, but Cas uncharacteristically doesn’t even bother to go to Dean? (Every single time he comes back, Dean’s always the first person he goes to)

And Cas, who apparently helped craft and reform the new heaven, isn’t the one who welcomes Dean and explains the new dynamics of it?

Sure, Jan.

Supernatural, you’ve created a finale that only your casual viewers and people who dipped out after Season 5 can appreciate.

Just goes to show how much you actually valued the people who actually invested in your story and characters, and consistently helped keep your show on the air.

[RT this on Twitter]

#SUPERNATURAL #DESTIEL #15X20 #I KNOW I SAID THAT MY LAST LONG POST WAS MY LAST ON EVER BUT I REALLY DIDN'T THINK THE FINALE WOULD BE WORSE THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE #INSIGHTFUL INSIGHTS #UNTAGGED #PERSONAL

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luvnami · 3 years

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𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 | 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 (here) | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - Second part to ‘Ocean’! Hope you enjoy it :> Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife @amjustagirl @aliteama

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares, Relationship Issues (lack of communication), Overthinking/Anxious Thoughts, I criticise Nanami’s choice of clothing

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5k

Nanami decides to enter university and get a degree. He casts a life of sorcery behind and turns a blind eye to curses that peer at him curiously on the street. When you text him and ask about how life is in the city of Tokyo, he replies that it would be much better if you were here with him. You choose to ignore the meaning between the lines and tell him that he’ll do great in university; you’re sure of it!

Truth be told, his parents are more than glad to fund Nanami’s ventures and encourage him to do so. As a result, he finds himself engulfed by the world of rigorous studying. Lectures and tutorials drain his time from morning to evening, not to forget project meetings and whatever the hell ‘socialising’ means.

But campus life is invigorating. He wakes up to the smell of coffee and his roommate singing a foreign song with a catchy tune and has time to enjoy a lovely breakfast before he heads off for morning classes. Everything is done in his own time. No one rushes him to save the lives of innocent civilians, nor does the weariness of a day’s fight linger in his bones.

Quietly, gently. That is how Nanami’s time in university goes by. Writing essays on analysing market trends or a project on that sociology elective module he chose is nothing too tricky, especially when one compares it to sorcery.

He learns to relax, unwinding in the golden hours of the evening with a Murakami paperback and a steaming cup of coffee by his side. Nanami meets new people — people who have never heard what a curse is (though he does find his witchy neighbour intriguing), people who have families at the furthest ends of the earth. Their companionship is refreshing.

You, meanwhile, earn a nice sum from working at Jujutsu Tech. You don’t work directly with curses (something which Nanami is thankful for) and enjoy your time surrounded by nature, treating the younger students with a smile and warm cup of tea.

You and Nanami decide to move into an apartment where the commute is halfway between both schools. It’s a nice change of pace, really. You wake up next to each other in the blinding morning light, still entangled in the cheap (and slightly scratchy) duvet you got on sale. Nanami presses a kiss between your brows. You smile, your hand warm on his skin.

“Good morning, Ken,” you croak as the sunlight frames your face.

You lean forward and place your head against his chest. Nanami’s hand strokes your shoulder lovingly as the both of you make small talk on the day’s events, then laughing when he makes a cheesy (and slightly indecent) joke about what he enjoys eating for breakfast. Your heart soars in your chest, catching the upwind and slicing through the clouds. It feels like heaven.

But the sea does not always remain calm and peaceful. Its tides rise and fall with the waxing and waning of the moon, and waves can come crashing down on boats that dare sail through its treacherous waters.

Nanami buries the constant nightmares of Haibara under his pillow, waking up in the middle of the night with your arms around his waist. He pretends he does not see the curses that linger in the corner of his lecture theatre, nor the ones that stare back in the bathrooms. Nanami slips a pair of spectacles onto the bridge of his nose. His fellow classmates call him intelligent, quiet, but kind.

He wants to believe that, too.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami joins a hedge fund company after graduation.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do, Ken?” you ask over the table.

The restaurant you had booked for dinner boasts of its month-long waitlists and seasonal menus. You poke at the raw fish that sits on your plate, Nanami holding a glass of amber liquid. He watches its colour swirl under the dim light.

“The pay is good. We’ll be comfortable.”

“I don’t care about money, Ken. I’d rather you do something less stressful and be happier.”

“Let me try it out for a year or so. That can’t hurt, right?”

He smiles, you smile.

Your hand slips into his comfortably over the table, and your eyes meet in silent understanding. You squeeze his hand.

The company changes Nanami. Some things are obvious — the way he now parts and combs his hair back with wax, the pressed suits that line your shared wardrobe, the work phone that buzzes with notifications every minute of the day. Others are more… subtle. He comes home later and later each night, occasionally staying over in the office. His alcohol consumption increases. You spend the weekends alone.

It’s gotten to the point where you’re lucky if you eat dinner with him once a week. You’re busy with your own work, too, but you assume that Nanami would be able to come home on at least the weekends. Your mind begins to drift.

Is there a colleague who wears a skirt too short, a manager who touches his shoulder a second too long? It’s been at least four years since you and Nanami had gotten together, and you still don’t know his stance on marriage or children yet. Does he love you, or does he love his job more?

You fall into a pit of doubt and despair. Perhaps you should have been a lesser burden on Nanami. He spent so many hours taking care of you back then, wearing himself thin between missions, that the idea of him getting tired of being a caregiver to someone who didn’t remember him at all was… possible; reality, even?

There’s nothing original about you, either. Your handwriting is the same as a girl you’ll never remember from middle school, the way you text influenced by the students you work with. Maybe you laugh too loud. Or you’re too fat, too skinny, too quiet, too noisy, too blunt, too shy, too clumsy. So what made him love you? Or was he just in love with a previous version of you that you weren’t now?

It feels like you’re staring into a mirror when you try to remember who you used to be with childhood journals and photographs. The same face, the same body, memories that don’t make sense and a head that has become a blank canvas. A parent’s child, a teacher’s student. Unable to reach past the glass.

You don’t know who you are anymore with how you’ve changed to please Nanami — a person of personalities that switches in the blink of an eye. So why does he still keep you in his rented heart that’s full of other tenants, and under the contact name ‘Dear ♡’? You place the button in a drawer amongst a mess of spare keys, bits of tissue paper and promotional pamphlets.

It’s tiring. Nanami’s head is in the clouds as you share a parfait, and you ask him, “Kento, do you really love me?”.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “Of course I do.”

The eyebags that are on his face have been there since two weeks ago. Nanami can’t remember when the last time was when he got a proper night of sleep, and currently, he’s thinking about the new client that-

“Kento,” you interrupt. “You’re exhausted.”

You point your spoon at him for extra emphasis, the tip of it having a dollop of whipped cream.

“Pointing your utensils around is bad manners.”

“Never knew you cared about table manners.”

“Well, now I do.”

You lick the spoon clean and eye Nanami. He returns a tired stare before his gaze falls to the side and he lets out a sigh. He almost wishes that you would stop bothering him about this and let him go back home. There are so many emails he needs to send, and he can’t sit still without checking the stock market every hour or so.

“Do you want to break up?”

The words come easier than expected.

“Huh?! What makes you say that?”

“You seem like you want to.”

“You can’t just assume things like-”

The girls sitting by the next table fall quiet. Nanami thinks that they’re eavesdropping on your conversation; you think so too. You glance quickly at them and they pretend nothing had ever happened, hiding their looks of surprise as they shove spoonfuls of dessert into their mouths.

“Let’s go somewhere else.”

You sound irritated. Nanami pays with his card, grabbing his things as you step outside of the cafe first.

“Slow down,” he mumbles and pockets his wallet.

You whip around.

“You can’t just assume things like that, Kento.”

“Fine, I’m sorry.”

Staring at him, your eyes seem glazed over. Tired, maybe. Tearing up, maybe. Maybe, maybe. Many maybes. Nanami doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what’s been going on with you, actually. You seem distant, out of reach when you’re lying in the same bed as him. Is it the money; is he making enough to make you happy?

Nanami reaches out and tries to hold your hand (when was the last time he had done that?) when his phone buzzes. He retracts his hand and reaches for his back pocket, but you grab his wrist. He looks at you.

“What are you doing? Let go.”

Irritation laces his voice.

“Don’t answer that.”

“Are you crazy? It’s from work. I have to.”

“Work this, work that! You spent the last year basically married to your office and the one time we get to go out together, you want to work?”

Your voice is sharp, slicing Nanami’s hazy conscience. He watches as it pools at his feet, a gust of fresh air tickling his skin. He relaxes his wrist and you pull your hand away. Passersby glance at you briefly before continuing their daily commute, not bothering to give you a second glance.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“It’s okay,” Nanami replies.

The both of you stand in the street, suddenly feeling as if you’ve drifted away from one other unknowingly. Like a boat in the ocean, Nanami rocks with the waves that splash gently on his hull. Everything is blue and vast around him. He can’t see the land.

Nanami thinks about that girl at the bakery. The way she always cried out ‘Come back soon!’ every time he left as if he wouldn’t return a second time. And then he thinks about the clients he serves, all outfits and jewellery that easily cost half his salary. They shove money into his hands, expecting even more in return without a word of thanks.

“Hey,” Nanami says.

He reaches out across the waters and grasps your hand in his. You look up, eyes brimming with tears. He swipes at the corner of your eye with his thumb. Understanding washes over him and he takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” Nanami whispers sincerely.

That night, he calls Gojo when you’re safely tucked into bed. Nanami tries to ignore how the older sorcerer cackles at him and hangs up once the call is presumably over on his end. He slips under the covers as you turn over in your sleep, resting against his chest. Nanami kisses your brow.

He gets his first night of good sleep in a long, long time.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami falls back into the rhythm of sorcery. He trains for a good month until he gets his stamina and strength back, obtaining a new weapon from the school for his missions. Gojo seems oddly delighted to see him return, laughing when Nanami’s out of breath from a workout.

“Ken,” you say, wrinkling your nose when he steps out of your shared bedroom. “You’re going to work in that?”

Nanami adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves, staring at you.

“Is this not appropriate?”

You observe him from head to toe. The leopard print tie, blue shirt and tan suit — you resist the urge to tell him he’s so close to looking like a pimp. Out of all the lovely suits that Nanami has, he chooses to wear this one?

“It’s a bit bright, that’s all,” you laugh.

“I thought I would go with something eccentric. You don’t get to wear this at the office,” he remarks, striding over to the kitchen to grab your packed lunches.

You remain quiet and fiddle with a loose thread on your own suit jacket.

“Something the matter?”

“Oh! Nothing at all. Let’s go.”

It’s more convenient now since the both of you work at the same place. Nanami drives to Jujutsu Tech every morning and picks you up in the evenings as well. He detests how Gojo makes fun of him for it, calling him a ‘lovely husband’. It makes your cheeks warm, and you duck your head before Nanami can ask you anything about it.

Peace reigns true for a few months. The morning routine is a nice change of pace compared to Nanami’s previous job. You’re able to spend more time together, even to the point of going grocery shopping or watching a movie with takeout on Friday nights.

Nanami relaxes only a little. Compared to office work, this is probably just as bad. First of all, he has to see Gojo almost every day and have him talk his ear off. Secondly, he returns to being the balance between life and death for civilians once more. It’s not a task he enjoys. However, he harbours that the thanks he receives and the lives he saves are a good enough exchange.

Years come and go, as do students of Jujutsu Tech. Nanami sees more dead sorcerers and exorcises more curses. You quietly type away at a laptop, filing their deaths and completing any tasks you’re given from the higher-ups. It seems that life has slowed down once more and you return to a monotonous pace.

You wonder if your relationship with Nanami will progress any further. It’s been close to nine years and yet… nothing has developed beyond living together or the odd weekend date. That’s not to say that you don’t love Nanami. You do, honestly. He treats you well and listens to your occasional nagging to put his stacks of books away, but you want something more. You crave the thought of getting married, to be lawfully his and maybe start a family. But, contrary to belief, Nanami isn’t opposed to it when you bring the topic up over dinner one night.

“Marriage?”

His chopsticks pick off a portion of grilled salmon and he brings it to his mouth with some rice. He chews, swallowing.

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve been together for so long, you know? So it kind of seems natural for us to do so.”

Your gut twists nervously. The steam from your miso soup rises silently in the air, wisps of white smeared out at the edges.

“Sure.”

“Huh?”

“Sure, let’s get married.” Nanami says.

You have to physically close your mouth and your eyes are widened in shock. Your heartbeat accelerates that much faster.

“Are you serious?”

“Well, were you serious when you asked me that question?”

Heat rises to your face.

“As you said, we’ve been together and living under the same roof for quite some time. Marriage seems like a plausible idea.”

“Then let’s-!”

“But I have one condition.”

Momentarily, your heart wavers. Nanami finishes the last drop of miso soup in his bowl and balances his chopsticks on top of the porcelain. As usual, his plate and bowls are scraped clean.

“I’ll only get married after I stop being a sorcerer.”

Your face twists in confusion as you try to understand where Nanami is coming from. You don’t get it — didn’t being a sorcerer mean that Nanami faced death everyday and that he should be taking advantage of what time he has left? But, of course, you don’t mean to curse him into an early grave like that. Except… Except that your face visibly falls and Nanami takes notice of it.

“I’d rather not have my life entangled with curses more than it should be. Once we both earn enough money and have a nice savings account, we can retire and go do whatever we want. Besides, I’ll invest. It’ll be more than enough.”

You remain silent and stare at your half-finished dinner. Nanami reaches over the table and takes your hand in his.

“Can you give me some more time, please?”

You don’t reply.

☆*: .｡.

“Did you hear about the new first years?”

“Mm. The one who died, right?”

“Gojo wants me to mentor him for a while.”

Nanami’s hands are positioned on the steering perfectly. His palms guide the car carefully through the steep roads that climb up to Jujutsu Tech. You flip through a checklist of things you need to do for the day.

“Will you be heading out of school?”

“Probably. There’s a scene I need to check out.”

“Stay safe, alright?”

“Of course. You too, don’t forget to have your lunch again.”

Nanami pulls into the parking lot of the school. Leaning over the clutch, he presses a kiss to your hairline. You gently peck his jaw.

“See you tonight. I might not be able to pick you up, so get Nitta to drive you.”

“See you, Ken.”

Nanami watches as you open the car door and step out. You turn back, giving him a wave and smile through the window. He returns the gesture. Once you’re out of sight, Nanami pulls out his phone as he sits in the car. He thumbs through his emails and his Adam’s apple bobs as soon as he sees the confirmation sent to him. A loose sigh worms its way out of his chest. He pushes the door open and steps out.

The rest of the day is spent teaching Itadori Yuuji about the sanctity of being young and simpleminded. Sorcery isn’t child’s play — especially when there are lives involved. He watches as Itadori’s face crumbles at the mention of the transfigured humans. He wants to comfort him, place a hand on his shoulder and tell him that it isn’t his fault.

They have a quick debrief of the situation with Ijichi before parting ways. Nanami shoulders his burden once more, watching as the car pulls away in the direction of Yoshino’s home.

As night falls, Nitta drives you home. She’s chatty, serious about her job and does it well. You smile when she gushes about how lovely Nanami must be at home, and, oh! Do tell him to lighten up at work.

You thank her when she drops you off. As you walk through the lobby of your apartment complex, you make a routine stop by the mailboxes. Junk, bills and… a box? You flip it over to see who it’s addressed to; perhaps Nanami had ordered something online. However, your name is printed neatly across the label.

The first thing you do when you get home is to open the box. It’s small, probably not more than a hand’s breadth in length. Your pen knife slices through the tape cleanly and when you push aside the flaps, you spot two velvet boxes sitting in a mess of paper filler. Your fingers tremble when you pull one of them out and open it.

A silver ring sits in the furrow of a cushion with Nanami’s name on the inside. Your heart skips a beat and you reach into the cardboard to pull out the second ring box. This one is a little larger, with your name engraved on the interior side of the band. It must be Nanami’s, then.

It’s already well past 6p.m. as you dial his number with your lower lip between your teeth. You pace around the house, bouncing on the balls of your feet. What were these meant to be? Promise rings? Engagement rings? You hadn’t dared to slip the one with Nanami’s name engraved onto your finger just yet.

“Hello?”

Nanami’s breathing is laboured. Your heart falls and you stop in the middle of your living room, staring ahead at nothing.

“Ken? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… just a little hurt. It’s nothing serious.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve called Ijichi to pick me up, don’t-”

“So it is serious, then!” you cry out in horror.

“No, no. I said I’m fine. Look, did you receive the rings yet?”

“I did, but that’s not the point now. Are you safe?”

“I-”

You hear Nanami’s phone clatter to the ground and the thump of his body on the floor.

“Kento?” you whisper.

He doesn’t reply.

☆*: .｡.

You’re seated on the floor of your shared home, an oversized pajama shirt stolen from Nanami’s closet swallowing you. Sunlight pours in through an open window at two in the afternoon and the quiet hum of vehicles outside can be vaguely heard.

Clip, clip, clip.

One hand holds a nail clipper, while the other cradles Nanami’s fingers gently. The blond watches you absentmindedly while you trim his nails. He had insisted he was perfectly capable of doing them on his own, but the glare you gave him made Nanami sink back into the sofa.

He was hurt after a fight with Mahito — the wound on his side made him grimace whenever he stood up, and Nanami found himself relying on you more than he wished to. Thankfully, he had passed out from blood loss and pain but nothing too devastating had happened. That didn’t change how concerned you were about him, though. You try to forget how you had hailed a taxi just to rush back to Jujutsu Tech to see Nanami lying in the sickbay with a blood drenched shirt.

Nanami thinks it’s childish. When was the last time someone had clipped his nails for him? Was it his mother? A warm breeze wrings itself through the window. You run the pad of your finger over the cut edge, feeling for any sharp portions.

Nanami stares at the top of your head. Your fingers feel uncharacteristically soft against his own calloused ones — wielding a weapon in battle wore his palms down at the end of the day. He doesn’t particularly want to admit he likes it.

Nanami is a man of truth. He hates lying, and definitely doesn’t tolerate beating around the bush. But if he spoke as he thought, told you everything he felt about you as often as it came like the wind, how would you react? He clutches his heart in the aching hand of a budding teenager, the fears of facing a cruel world fresh in his mind.

Being a sorcerer means facing death on a daily basis, especially with the increase in curses with modern times. It doesn’t help that with both of you on the field, it means double the chances. Sorcerers never die without regrets.

Nanami wishes he could love you more, let you explore each crevice of his heart without fear of leaving you; being left behind one day. He doesn’t want to curse you if he dies. He doesn’t want to become a burden to you any more than he should be.

Clip, clip, clip.

“Is it too short?”

You glance up briefly at Nanami and brush the hair out of your eyes. He stares down at his fingers and feels them over with his thumb. He shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine.”

You nod and move on to his next hand. You’re systematical about it — trimming off most of the grown parts in three portions, then a couple tinier clips to finish the job off. A nail file sits on the ground beside you, the tiles of the floor cool against your bare legs.

“Hey, Ken?”

“Hmm?”

“I heard that there’s a new bakery opposite that popular department store. I was thinking of going to take a look later. Do you want me to get anything for you?”

“Nothing too sweet would be nice.”

“Okay.”

The living room falls back into a comfortable silence.

Clip, clip, clip.

☆*: .｡.

It takes a few more weeks before Nanami is cleared by Ieri to return to regular sorcery work. He tries to rest in the downtime he has, he really does — but the itch to get up and finish Mahito off has him restless.

At this, Gojo sends Nanami and you off to Hamamatsu on another curse investigation for a change of scenery. Gojo doesn’t want to admit it, but he had mumbled to you something about taking care of Nanami’s mental health. Maybe the beach would help? You told him he sounded like a doctor from the 20th century. You’re not one to refuse a free trip outside of Tokyo, though, so you and Nanami pack your luggage and troop off to Hamamatsu on the Shinkansen.

“Thank you.”

Nanami’s fingers curl around the ice cream cone handed to him, the sun scorching his back. It’s too hot for this; for anything, really. He makes a mental note to give Gojo a good stare of disapproval once he returns to school.

Why did the mission have to be on the warmest day of the year? With how the heatwave makes perspiration trickle down your back, though, the dangers of facing a possible special grade curse is the least of your worries right now.

“It’s so hot!”

You eagerly lap at the soft serve, savouring the cold, sweet treat. Nanami wanted to take a photo of the ice cream, but- oh well, you’ve begun eating, and the horrendous heat would have probably melted it before he found a good angle, anyways.

Protected by the shade of a shopping district, Nanami and you had agreed to find refuge for a few hours — the curse could wait till the sun began to set. Besides, it would be more likely to turn up after dark.

“How does yours taste, Ken?” you ask and peer over at his cone.

He had gotten a cookies and cream flavoured one, despite how you egged him on to try out the local eel flavour. Nanami was not going to ruin his taste buds just like that, thank you very much.

“It’s alright,” he says, licking traces of ice cream off of his lips. “Could do with a little more cookie.”

“Wanna try mine?”

You stick your cone into Nanami’s face. He’s greeted with your half-eaten soft serve, where your tongue has made a path of its own against the original swirl. He eyes you carefully and you offer the cone to him once more.

“That’s unhygienic.”

“Oh, come on, Ken! We’ve kissed before, sharing saliva on ice cream is nothing compared to that.”

Heat rushes to his face, though Nanami assumes a composed facade. He blames it on the weather without hesitation. Not wanting you to tease him anymore, he leans forward and nips a tiny portion of your ice cream off of the tip.

“Yummy, isn’t it?”

“Mmm.”

“Want to try mine too?”

The words leave his lips on reflex. Nanami wonders when he’s begun letting you try his food — when he used to be so adamant that no one could even touch its container or look in its direction (thanks to Gojo’s greedy fingers). You nod excitedly and lick off of a portion.

“It’s good!”

What was the first time he had said it to you? Over oden in the winter; over those disgustingly sweet slurpees you insisted on from 7 11? All those small moments that had built up culminated in Nanami’s affection and understanding towards you. The way in which you offer him a bite of your food without expecting anything in return; is that what love is like?

“You’ve got some ice cream on your face,” Nanami says.

You instinctively use your tongue and try to clean it off. “Did I get it?”

Nanami shakes his head. “It’s on this side,” he replies, pointing a spot on his own face.

You try again, to no avail. Nanami sighs.

“What would you do without me?” he asks monotonously, using the pad of his thumb to wipe it off.

You stand there, frozen for a second when he leans in. His promise ring is cold against your cheek.

“Kento?” you whisper.

Under the light of the shining sun, he presses his lips to yours, shielding you from warm rays and the glances of passersby with his back. You let out a muffled sound of surprise as you taste cookies and cream, your eyes fluttering shut instinctively.

Nanami isn’t a fan of public affection. God forbid Gojo see him kissing you, really. But as he leans back and watches your half-lidded eyes stare up at him, he asks himself if you’ve ever received his own sort of love in return.

A relationship’s all about give and take; but has he given as much as he should have? Has Nanami loved you in a way that matters? Life is a fleeting concept to all sorcerers. Should he die and leave you behind, Nanami wonders if he would pass without any regrets. Did he do enough when he tugged the covers over your shoulders when you fell asleep on the sofa, was there more he could have done even after buying you that watch you had eyeballed for the past few months?

There’s that sort of incompetence that curls up in his chest on sleepless nights, even with you tucked into his side. It makes his head spin and his heart fall into a bottomless pit. With all the eyes of juniors and students that look up to him, Nanami can’t help but wonder if he’s truly as good as everyone thinks he is. Being a sorcerer holds little problem. But what about a lover, a husband?

He couldn’t save Haibara, so how dare he think about…

“Kento,” you swallow. “Ken?”

Nanami snaps out of his daze. “Huh?”

“I dropped my ice cream,” you whisper.

He swivels his head and spots your cone face down on the sidewalk. His own cone drips down his hand, the melting liquid staining the sleeve of his suit. For once, Nanami’s mind runs blank.

“Kento? Are you okay?” you ask gently.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

“Mm?”

Nanami’s careful to avoid the pool of melting ice cream as he steps closer to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. Your breath hitches as his cologne invade your senses.

“I love you. Let’s get married.”

94 notes · View notes

woah-were-halfway-there · 3 years

Text

Our Last Summer - B. Boeser

A/N: just a girl who thought she’d try writing for a different player. Shocking, I know. Also this is an OC and I love her, enjoy!

Yes, after the ABBA song. Also shoutout to my least favourite Taurus @brockadoodles for convincing me to follow through with writing and posting this and being an A+ beta reader always.

Word Count: 9.2k

To Brock, summer was the best time of year. As much as he loved hockey season, summer gave him the chance to unwind, relax and spend time with his friends and family. It also allowed him to be at one of his favourite places all the time, the lake.

The lake was a sanctuary of sorts for him, his little piece of paradise. Even before he moved to Vancouver, he spent every summer there, which is why he ended up buying a home on that lake to spend his off-seasons in. It also happened to be where he got to see Lennon—the only place.

Brock and Lennon first met almost ten years ago. Right away, Brock could tell that she wasn't from the area based on her lack of a so-called Minnesotan accent but eventually learned how her family started vacationing on the lake the same year they were both turning fourteen.

Lennon's family has been back every year since. How she and Brock first crossed paths was on the beach one fateful afternoon at the end of June. Brock was standing in line behind her, waiting to buy a bottle of water while she ordered ice cream from the man operating the little stand. Once Lennon was handed her snack, she turned around and went to walk away but didn't realize Brock was standing right there and ended up knocking into him, which resulted in her ice cream spilling down the front of the t-shirt he wore. She quickly grabbed some napkins and tried to clean up the mess she made all over him, but he just laughed it off and told her it was fine.

The two of them parted ways after that, not thinking much of the interaction and didn't cross paths again until the following summer. When they did meet again, it was on that same beach, at the same ice cream stand, but Lennon didn't spill anything that time. Instead, the pair just stared at each other as they were both hit by the most intense wave of deja vu either of them had ever experienced. After that initial shock, they talked and properly introduced themselves because what were the chances they'd run into each other again. After commenting on how he assumed Lennon wasn't from there, Brock learned that she only came to Minnesota in the summertime with her parents and twin brother because her dad was from there and her parents owned a lake house they wanted to retire to one day. It was one of Lennon's favourite places to be and had her looking forward to summer every year because of it.

That summer, Brock and Lennon saw each other on multiple occasions after the run-in on the beach, and a friendship gradually began. That friendship only grew with each summer that passed as Brock's friends became Lennon's friends too after being invited to hang out with them as they went boating, jet skiing, exploring and had bonfires each night. These activities made Lennon's summers even more memorable than before.

However, as they got older, things began to change.

The summer before Lennon turned 19 was the last summer she spent entirely at the lake for a few years. Brock had already turned 19 that February, and Lennon would be doing the same in early November. However, that fall, she began going to university and spent the summers working. Lennon didn't get as much time off but still managed to squeeze in at least two weeks at the lake to spend with her family, friends, and, of course, Brock.

Four years later, once Lennon graduated from her bachelor's program, she returned to the lake for the whole summer. Lennon also mainly spent that summer with Brock as he sat with her for hours while she applied to various jobs in her field and did phone interviews with possible employers. It was odd for him, though, because it wasn't until then, Brock realized how even though he felt like he knew Lennon very well, he hardly knew anything about her life outside of the lake. Sure, he knew that she took English and Literature at university, but he didn't know what school she attended. He also didn't know where her family lived the rest of the year. Brock only knew Lennon and summer.

There was a massive disconnect between the two of them when they weren't in their little summer bubble. Brock and Lennon didn't speak when they weren't at the lake. They had each other's phone numbers, but the thought of using it while he was in Vancouver felt foreign, and although Lennon did cross his mind, he knew the two of them would pick up where they left off like they did every summer once both of them returned to the lake.

That's what happened last summer too. Brock and Lennon were reunited on her first day back and spent almost every day together, seeing as it had been four years since the last full summer she spent in Minnesota. It was a summer to remember for sure. They somehow became even closer, which naturally led to them feeling a sense of dread as the days became shorter and summer gradually came to an end.

But, everything became ruined when Brock and Lennon slept together on her last night at the lake. Then Brock woke up to a cold and empty space next to where he laid in his bed the morning after.

The piece of him that Brock didn't realize Lennon had a hold on broke that morning. She left him feeling hurt and confused. He texted her, but she didn't reply. Then when he took his jet ski out on the water and rode by her family's house, only to see it completely dark and no cars in the driveway, he knew summer was officially over and that he wouldn't hear from her again.

That is why he was looking forward to this summer. There was no guarantee he'd be seeing Lennon. He didn't know what had gone in her life over the past ten months but was sure he'd get filled in on it once he saw her family, but he had this unexplainable feeling that she was going to be there, and that was enough to get him nervous. However, Brock was still excited even with those nerves because his summer just wasn't complete without Lennon in it. Regardless of how the two felt towards each other.

Brock's first day back consisted of getting everything ready, and the house opened up for the season. With his roommates and family's help, the boat was launched into the water and docked, so were the jet skis, and everything just slowly fell into place. The only thing missing was Lennon.

However, he tried not to think of things like that. He was convinced he'd get some closure about what happened between the two of them last summer, but when he casually brought her up in conversation, no one knew if she was back or not. Lennon's family was at the lake, everyone knew that much, but no one had seen her yet, which made Brock feel a little less hopeful.

Once everything at the house was finished getting ready, all of his company stayed for dinner but then headed back to their own homes, his roommates included. They'd be back on the weekend and be staying there for good afterwards, but for the next few days, it would just be Brock and his dogs, which was fine by him.

After everyone left, Brock headed out to the back yard, letting Milo and Coolie run around for a bit before going back inside for the night. The sun was setting, leaving warm pink and orange trails of light chasing after it while slowly disappearing in the distance. A few boats still drove around on the water, finishing up their rounds before it got too dark. Brock could also hear chatter from somewhere nearby where he assumed people were outside having a bonfire or just socializing as they enjoyed what was bound to be a beautiful evening.

Brock then wandered to the edge of his dock and sat down, letting his legs hang off the side then swaying them slightly as he continued taking it all in. Not too long after, Coolie joined him as he took up the spot next to him and rested his head on Brock's lap while looking out at the water as well. Meanwhile, Milo continued wading in the water, ready to attack any fish that dared come near him.

About ten minutes later, after Milo had gone up onto the dock as well, Brock spotted a boat heading towards him. As the boat got closer to shore, he could hear the familiar voice of Wesley Schultz as a song by The Lumineers played and watched as the boat slowed down then took a wide right turn before coming to a stop about 20 feet from the edge of his dock. Confused, Brock looked around for someone else because surely whoever was on the boat wasn't stopping to talk to him. But then he remembered that he was at his own house and that there was no other explanation for what was going on.

"Hey!" A voice greeted over the music, then a man, who Brock assumed was around the same age as him, came into view. He had dark brown hair that wasn't quite as long as Brock's but still long enough to noticeably be pushed back away from his face with a pair of sunglasses and wore only a pair of green swim trunks and an unzipped white sweater. "So you're the person who lives here. I'm Max. My family just bought a house around the bend over there. It's nice to meet you."

"Oh, cool!" Brock responded, a wave of relief washing over him as he realized the guy was just being friendly. "Nice to meet you too. I'm Brock. I live here with a few friends, but it's just me here right now. I'm sure you'll see the others around soon. Have you been to the lake before?"

"No, this is my first summer here," Max explained and smiled. "But, I know someone who's been coming here for a while and told me all about it. I must say, it's living up to its hype."

"Your friend sounds like they know what they're talking about," Brock chuckled, then heard a voice say something from where they must've been sitting out of sight on the boat. But what really surprised him the way Coolie perked up at the voice and caused a low whine to leave his mouth.

"Yeah, I'd say she does," Max replied, then leaned to the side and looked down into the boat's cabin. "She's right here actually, said it was too cold then went inside—Babe, wanna come say hi to my new neighbour? Maybe the two of you know each other."

The thought of how Brock might know the other person on the boat made sense, he knew the area so well and had met lots of people over the years, but that still didn't prepare him for the way he felt once Lennon stepped into view.

"Lemon?"

Brock's nickname for her fell from lips so quickly as he took her in, he didn't even have to think about it. Lennon's deep brown hair was longer than it was the last time Brock had seen her, that much he could tell even in the messy fishtail braid she had it in. Usually, Lennon liked to cut her hair going into the summer because she always complained about how hot it made her feel whenever it was down and not being held back with the hair tie that usually resided on her wrist.

He then took in the rest of her appearance. She wore bright yellow crocs, a pair of white terry cloth shorts and a baggy pullover that had Minnesota written in a large yellow font across it as well. Brock recognized the sweater because it belonged to him until the last night of the previous summer.

It was a simple look, but to Brock, Lennon still seemed stunning in the evening glow surrounding her.

That was when Coolie stood up and barked, snapping Brock out of the trance he'd fallen into upon seeing Lennon again. Coolie recognized her. That much was evident with how he whined and started wagging his tail just at the sight of her, Milo joining in soon after.

"Hi Coolie, hi Milo," Lennon spoke softly and smiled at the two dogs, making Brock feel as if he walked into a brick wall just by hearing her voice again.

"Oh, you two do know each other!" Max exclaimed, snapping Brock back to reality once again.

Then Lennon looked Brock in the eyes for the first time, and her smile fell slightly.

"I guess you could say that," she stated, not breaking eye contact. "Hey, Brock."

"H-hey," was all he could reply with, still recovering from the initial shock of how Lennon, the person he spent the last ten months thinking about, was finally standing in front of him again, but with another guy. "You're back."

"Yeah, I am," she nodded, then looked back at Max. "We should probably get going, though. It's getting dark."

"You're right," Max agreed. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you around, Brock. Have a good night."

"Uh, yeah, you too," Brock responded, whispering almost as he observed Max start the boat back up and begin driving off.

He watched the two of them go, refusing to take his eyes off of Lennon, which was how he didn't miss the way she looked back at him too or how she didn't look away until the boat rounded the bend and disappeared out of sight yet again.

~*~

About a week went by before Brock saw Lennon again, and he hated it. He saw her family, who all asked when he'd be stopping by again. But Brock didn't know how to explain that he and Lennon had barely spoken or the reason behind it all. It then got worse when his parents came over that weekend and told him how they ran into her while they were at the store and that she seemed to be doing well.

It sucked for him because all he wanted to do was talk, but he knew Lennon. And he knew that if she wanted to talk, she would. However, it was clear that she didn't, so Brock didn't push her into talking with him regardless of how badly he wanted to.

The thought of just messaging Lennon and asking her to come over crossed his mind many times that week, but he couldn't bring himself to send the text he typed out and would end up deleting it instead. His summer was already off to a very different start than he was hoping for.

One day, while he was out boating with some of his friends, things started to change again.

After being out on the water for most of the day, Brock and his friends all decided to dock the boat at the marina near, of course, the beach that Brock couldn't step foot on without thinking about Lennon. Once he saw that beach, he was reminded of how much time he and Lennon spent there together over the years since first meeting. Brock would've been lying if he said he didn't want to run into her again on that same beach, but he tried not to get his hopes up.

However, to his luck, Lennon was walking along the dock at the marina the same time Brock was hopping off the boat to help tie it up. Brock spotted her first, but she was busy scrolling through her phone, her eyebrows furrowed with an unreadable expression on her face as she did so, and she didn't notice Brock or the others as she continued walking towards them, but then came to an abrupt stop.

Whatever Lennon was looking at on her phone seemed important, and Brock didn't want to interrupt, but then one of his friends, who also knew Lennon, spotted her.

"Lenny!" Sam exclaimed as he brushed past Brock, making Lennon jump, but still, smile once she saw who was approaching her and accepted the hug she was about to be pulled into. "You're back!"

"Lennon's here?" Someone else asked, and soon enough, everyone who Brock was with rushed by him to see their friend.

"Hey, guys!" She greeted happily, a much different mood than how her reunion with Brock was a week prior.

"Are you here all summer?"

"I am," Lennon confirmed, still smiling.

"That's awesome," said Claire, Sam's girlfriend. "We've been waiting to see when you'd get here. We missed you! Is Mick here too?"

"Yeah, he is," Lennon responded, letting the group know that her brother had returned to the lake as well. "He's at the house right now helping my dad get the new barbecue set up. I was sent here to pick up things to get grilled tonight."

She then held up the plastic bag she was carrying for emphasis, earning chuckles from the rest of the group.

"Well, we won't keep you then," stated one of Brock's roommates. "But come over to the house soon, and we'll all hang out."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll see you guys later!"

Everyone said goodbye to Lennon, then continued on their way, but Brock stayed back. She still hadn't noticed him, and he didn't want her to feel cornered by him, especially around their friends, but he needed to talk to her. Just the two of them.

He observed her as she watched their friends walk down the dock, taking in the jean shorts and mint green tank top she wore, then cleared his throat, making Lennon snap her attention in his direction and not missing the way her eyes widened as she did so.

"Hey, Lemon," he greeted her and felt an instant wave of relief wash over him while he saw her expression soften as he said that.

"You're never going to drop that nickname, are you?" She asked while shaking her head and smiling.

Brock pursed his lips and looked away from her as if he was deeply considering her question but couldn't help the small laugh that left his mouth as he did.

"No, I don't think I can."

"Right. Whatever you say, Broccoli."

At that, Brock's grin grew much wider. Hearing Lennon call him the nickname she's always said in response to him calling her, Lemon, hit differently this time because, although he knew things weren't normal between them, it almost seemed like it was. But, it was short-lived because his nagging thoughts about the girl standing in front of him started creeping back, making his smile falter a little bit.

"Brock?" Lennon asked, noticing how he was getting too deep in his thoughts. Something she knew he did often. "You ok?"

"Yeah," he replied and shook his head slightly. "I was just thinking. Um, listen, can we talk? You know, about… everything?"

Lennon let out a sigh, knowing this conversation needed to happen between the two of them, but still not sure if she was ready to have it just yet. "I don't know what to say."

"Me neither, to be honest. But maybe we can start with what happened last summer and how you're seeing someone else now?"

"Brock, me and you aren't in a relationship. You can’t corner me like that. I don't owe you an explanation."

"Lennon, that's not fair and you know that’s not what I’m doing," he stated. "I'm not saying you have to explain yourself. That's your business, whether I like it or not. But, I would like to know where we stand because I have thought about you every day for the past ten months and seeing you on that boat last week sucked. I was caught off guard, but that doesn't matter. I just miss my friend and don't want this summer to be weird because we slept together when clearly it didn't mean anything."

Once Brock finished his spiel, Lennon took a shaky breath then let her gaze fall to the ground, knowing he had a point.

"I'm sorry," she spoke softly. "You're right, it's not fair, and I'm also sorry for just leaving you last year. But Brock, I don't know what to tell you right now because I know it's not going to be what you want to hear."

"The least you could do, as my friend, is tell me why. Why did you leave and act as though nothing happened between us and avoid me completely?"

"I panicked, ok!"

"About what?" Brock questioned, feeling even more lost than before. "Len, what are you talking about?"

“Because Brock, before we slept together, it was just you and the lake,” she explained. “It was easy. It was like we lived separate lives, and that worked until they crossed paths again in the summertime. Maybe having sex messed that up, but I don’t want it to. I want things back to the way they were.”

“Why do we have to live separate lives outside of the lake? You’re one of my best friends. I would love to share all of my life with you. But I feel like I know nothing about you.”

“Why now, though? Why didn’t you want me to be part of your life or know more about mine away from here before last summer?”

“I never said I didn’t!” He stated firmly and stressfully pushed his hand through his hair. “That’s just always been how we worked. How can you expect me to know that was something you wanted when you didn’t express it either, Lennon? But I will say this; I care about you. I have feelings for you, alright? If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked you to stay over on that night last summer. That all seems pretty irrelevant now, though.”

"I-," Lennon started but had to stop as a voice cut her off.

"There she is," Max said as he and another guy that Brock didn't recognize approached them. "And Brock! Good to see you again."

"Uh, yeah," Brock replied hesitantly, suddenly not knowing what to say as he watched Max casually walk up and wrap his arm around Lennon's waist. "You too."

"Did we interrupt something?" Max asked while glancing at the other guy he was with, then moved his gaze between Brock and Lennon.

"No," Brock spoke and looked Lennon dead in the eye. "I guess we're done talking. I'll see you guys around."

"Brock, wait," Lennon said and pulled away from Max as Brock walked past them.

"Just like you, I don’t know what else to say, Lennon. Say hi to your family for me."

And with that, Lennon was left watching Brock leave her behind this time.

Later that evening, Brock was at home with his roommates, putting some plates into the dishwasher after they were all finished eating when Milo and Coolie started barking like crazy. He wasn't sure what was going on and looked at the rest of the guys, who all shrugged in response, then went over to the glass sliding door the dogs were standing in front of and saw what had them acting the way they were.

Outside he saw a woman hopping off a jetski, then watched as she pulled it up to the small shore that met his property. Once she was sure the jetski was beached enough and took off her lifejacket, she walked up the slope that led to the rest of the lawn, then walked across the grass onto the dock before sitting down at the edge of it and facing the water like she owned the place. It didn't take long for Brock to realize the girl was Lennon.

He then looked back at his roommates, all of who were watching him intently, almost as if they knew this was coming, but they all quickly looked away and pretended to be busy looking at something else. Brock rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. He didn't want to give them the satisfaction of a response, so instead, he stayed silent and opened the door so he could step outside.

Milo and Coolie continued barking as Brock slipped by them but didn't let them outside with him. He knew that Lennon wouldn't have just shown up unannounced after the talk they had earlier that day unless she really needed to get something off her chest, and Brock wanted to hear what she had to say without any interruption.

Lennon didn't look back as he walked across the grass and onto the dock. It was like she knew he'd join her regardless of how rough things may have seemed between them. And she would've been right for assuming that. As much as Brock wanted to be mad at Lennon, it still seemed like magnets pulled him towards her, and it just wasn't possible for him to fight.

Brock didn't say anything as he sat down next to his friend, just joined her in silence while they both looked out over the water and observed the sun as it began its descent in the late evening sky, but he couldn't keep himself from observing Lennon out of the corner of his eye and taking in how she looked.

Her hair wasn't tied back or anything. It just fell down her back in loose natural waves that shifted ever so slightly whenever there was a breeze. She wore a faded red Beatles pullover, which was somewhat ironic seeing as she was named after one of the band's members, making Brock smile because that was just a very Lennon thing to do. The sweater was paired with some jean shorts and Nike slides, but what caught his attention the most was her eyes. Lennon had light brown eyes that Brock thought were stunning all the time, but when the sun hit them just right, like it did in that moment, they seemed golden almost, and it was so hard to look away. He's always loved her eyes.

However, his moment of observing her in silence was cut short when she let out a sigh and then glanced towards him.

"New York," Lennon stated, earning herself a confused look from Brock.

"New York?" He asked, genuinely unsure of what she was implying. "Lennon-."

"That's where I'm from," she elaborated, then looked from him to the water again. "Upstate New York, to be exact, near the Buffalo area. My birthday is November 2nd. I was actually born in Minneapolis, but my parents moved when me and Mick were about ten months old for work and I hadn’t been back until they bought the lake house. Uh, when my parents found out my mom was pregnant, they thought they were expecting twin boys at first. They wanted to name me John after the Beatles still and then Michael after Mick Jagger, but when I came out a girl, they had to improvise."

Brock was speechless. He was so shocked. Lennon was telling him everything that he's always wondered about her and then some. He was intrigued, and there was no way he would stop her from sharing whatever she wanted to say.

"As you know, I took English and Literature in university," she continued. "I took that program at NYU and have been living in New York City for the past five years because of it. I have a freelancing job, which has been paying the bills. I've also spent the last month and a half applying to various master's programs at different schools, and it's been pretty discouraging if I'm completely honest. Since moving to NYC, I've made many trips to Toronto to visit Mick, seeing as that's where he went to school, but coming back to the lake each summer remains my favourite place to be, and you are a huge part of why Brock."

"Lemon, I didn't know any of this," he replied, shaking his head as he still processed everything she said.

"I know, that's why I'm telling you."

"Wow, I, I don't even know what to say. I've always wondered these things about you, but other than seeing you here; you've always been like a blank slate to me. I've known you for so long now, but I've never known so much about you. I just figured you never really wanted me to be part of your life outside of summer, y'know?"

"Yeah, about that," Lennon started and let out a small laugh. "That is so incorrect. You don't even know."

"What do you mean?" Brock questioned, feeling puzzled by her again.

"My friends in New York are huge into sports," she explained. "I can't even begin to explain how many times I've been dragged to a Yankees or Knicks game, but when it comes to the Rangers, I always look forward to it a bit more. They're not my team, I've got to give props to the Sabres for the hometown representation, and because of Mick, I started not entirely hating the Leafs. What always surprises my friends, though, is how adamant I get about going to the Rangers games whenever Vancouver is in the city. But I haven't told them I have a friend that plays on the team. They just think it's odd that I have a Boeser jersey."

"Woah, wait a minute. You've seen me play hockey?"

"Every time you've been in New York since starting with the Canucks, yeah."

"Lennon, what the hell?" He asked disbelievingly. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Lennon just shrugged before responding. "Like I said earlier today, Brock, it's always been you and the lake. I thought about messaging you but then figured you might not want me to and chickened myself out, so I never did. I don't know why I didn't just reach out, but now you know. So, please, never assume that I don't think about you when I'm not here. Because I do, all the damn time. And what happened between us last summer did mean something to me. You are way too important for it to not. I could never consider you as just a random hookup, Broccoli."

Brock could feel his heart swell an insane amount as she said that, but before he could say what he really wanted to in response, he needed to know something still.

"What about Max?"

"Max is not my boyfriend," she stated, not missing a beat. "He's one of my best friends from school, yeah, but we are not together. He's from Minneapolis, which was how we actually bonded when we first met after telling him my dad was from this area. And let me tell you, I've told him if I'm still single by 40, we're getting married, but I don't think that'll be happening. He's very happy with his boyfriend, Connor, who was on the dock with us earlier, and I would've happily introduced you to if you hadn't stormed away before I got the chance."

"For fucks sake," Brock said, not being able to stop himself from grinning at how stupidly he overreacted. "I am so bad for jumping to conclusions, aren't I?"

"You always have been."

They laughed together as Lennon nudged him with her shoulder teasingly, then a comfortable silence fell amongst them again. However, it didn't last too long because Lennon was speaking again soon after.

"I really am sorry for just leaving you last summer," she told him softly. "It's just- I knew I was going back to New York, and I figured it'd be easier if we didn't talk about what happened for both of us. I shouldn't have assumed that. It wasn't fair to you. But, I also have spent the last ten months thinking about you constantly. I like you too, Brock, more than I can explain, and I just feel stupidly vulnerable admitting that, but I'd be lying to myself if I said I didn't have feelings for you that weren't entirely platonic. I don't expect things between us to be like they were last summer, but I missed you a whole freaking lot this past year and will be glad to have my best friend back."

"I would love nothing more than for that to happen," Brock responded and waited for her to look at him again before continuing. "Maybe we can; I don't know, take things slow? We can see what happens over the summer, what it all leads to and you know, actually talk after. I also want to know as much about you as I can, but only if you'll let me.”

"Please. And yes, I'll tell you whatever it is you want to know. I want to get to know more about you too if that's ok."

"Of course it is, I'd like that," he replied before falling silent again as his gaze dropped to her lips. Brock was overcome with the urge to close the already small space between him and Lennon by kissing her, but he didn't. Although he was pretty sure she wouldn't necessarily be opposed to him doing that, he didn't want to fuck this up by rushing into anything again. She, too, was way more than just a hookup to him and Brock wanted to make sure she knew that. "Will you stay over tonight?"

Lennon's eyes widened in surprise at Brock's question, but she quickly realized he wasn't trying to make a move. He just wanted to spend more time with her, and honestly, she loved the idea of just hanging out with him all night.

"Yes, absolutely," she stated. "I'll also never say no to Milo and Coolie snugs."

"Good, because I'm pretty sure I can still hear Coolie whining over the fact that he can't come out here and see you."

The two of them laughed, then stayed sitting together for a few more moments before Brock eventually stood and helped Lennon up, then made their way back to the house together.

~*~

Although nothing intimate happened that night between Brock and Lennon, aside from some cuddling as they both fell asleep in his bed, it set the pace for the rest of their summer. The two, once again, became inseparable.

The next few weeks went by very quickly, and everything was great. Lennon was over at Brock’s all the time, and he made sure to go over to her family’s house and visit with them lots too. Things were normal again. There was no tension as they hung out with all their friends. Brock even got to know Max a bit better, who, to Brock, ended up being a really cool guy. It was nice for him to hear more stories about Lennon’s life outside of the lake, and Brock loved every minute of it.

However, as good as things were with the two of them while keeping their relationship platonic, there was no denying both Brock and Lennon had intense feelings for each other.

From an outside perspective, it was apparent how much those two cared for each other, and it was often shown in the little things. It was gestures like Brock pulling Lennon onto his lap and wrapping her up in the blanket he had with him while having a bonfire. Or the time Lennon briefly gave Brock his Minnesota sweater back for a few hours while he was over at her house because she wanted it to smell like him again. It was so obvious the two of them had a thing. And yet, nothing more happened between them. They were both afraid that it may get fucked up again, which neither wanted. Especially with how fast summer seemed to pass by.

One Friday afternoon in late July, things hit a rough patch again.

Brock and Lennon were at his place, hanging out on the stairs of the back deck with Milo and Coolie, when Lennon dropped the bomb about having to leave the lake in the upcoming days.

Understandably, Brock was confused. He knew that he’d have to return to Vancouver in a few weeks to get ready for training camp and the upcoming season with the Canucks, but Brock thought he still had a few weeks left with Lennon at least. Brock took the news pretty well, but when he asked her why, feeling like he could after the talk they had on the dock over a month prior, she started shutting him out again.

“I’m moving,” Lennon stated as she shifted away from Brock, not getting up from where she sat between his legs on the step in front of him, but enough to let his arms, which he had wrapped around her shoulders as she leaned back against him, fall to his side again. “I have to go back to New York on Monday and start packing up my apartment. My master’s program isn’t there, and I knew this was coming. I just didn’t think it’d be so soon.”

Brock understood, he really did, but then he got thinking and became confused.

“You never told me you got into your program, Len. That’s great,” he replied and leaned forward so he could look at her better. “Where are you moving to?”

“Oh, um, you know, nowhere spectacular. Just the west coast.”

“Nice, what school? Maybe if it’s near a city with an NHL team, we can meet up when I play there. I’d also love for you to visit me in Vancouver if you’re able to or up for it.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she replied, smiling because she really liked that idea, but then it was like a switch went off in her mind, and that expression soon fell as she stood up from the stairs and turned to face him. “You know what, Brock, I have to go. I think my mom needed my help with something.”

That puzzled Brock even more.

“I was at your house with you yesterday when your parents left for Minneapolis,” he reminded her with a small laugh. “They said they were going for the weekend.”

“Oh, right.”

“Yeah. Uh, Is everything alright? You’re acting weird all of a sudden.”

“Everything’s fine,” Lennon lied, which Brock was aware of with the way she started picking at her nails and avoiding making eye contact with him. “I just have a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Lemon,” he started softly. “You know you can talk to me, right? You don’t have to block me out again.”

Lennon let out a sarcastic chuckle.

“Why does everyone always say that? Lennon quit blocking people out. Lennon, no one will continue breaking down those walls you put up all the time… But, no one gets that it’s just easier for me that way. I feel safer. It’s nothing personal.”

Brock’s expression fell at that a bit. “I get that, I do. Sometimes it is easier that way, but it’s also very lonely. You have people in your life that aren’t going to hurt you the way you think someone could. I want to think I’m one of those people.”

“You are, Broccoli,” she assured. “You always have been. I just, I can’t help but always think of the worst possible situation when going into new things. That’s just how my mind works. And even when it comes to you, when it comes to us and whatever we are, I’m still scared because there are so many unknowns. We don’t know what will happen when I leave for New York again, and I know I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t want to dampen the rest of our time here together. This has been the best summer I’ve had in a long time, and I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“You’re not ruining it,” he explained. “We know we both can’t stay at the lake forever, but that doesn’t mean we can’t bring what we have here with us when we leave. Lennon, I want you in my life all year round, not just when we’re here. I wish you realized that. And now, once you leave, it’s like I know nothing all over again because you won’t let me in enough to tell me. Which honestly sucks a lot.”

Lennon just looked back at him, not caring that her eyes were on the brink of overflowing with tears as she processed what he said. Brock cared for her. Probably more than any other guy she’s ever felt this intense of feelings for, but she was still absolutely terrified of accepting that for some reason.

“I’m sorry, Brock,” she said, then took a shaky breath as she stepped further away from him and started backing down the stairs. “I- I’m going to go, and please, don’t come after me. I promise I’ll say bye before I leave, but I just need to think.”

She then turned and rushed down the rest of the stairs without looking back. Brock immediately stood up and went to call after her, but Lennon was already rounding the corner that led to the driveway and soon disappeared out of sight. Milo and Coolie were about to go after her, but Brock stopped them as he heard a door close and the sounds of a car pulling out of the driveway. She was already gone again, and there was nothing he could do about it.

That night, Brock went to one of the bars nearby with their group of friends for a karaoke night. Lennon was initially supposed to join him and his roommates to venture over there together, but he knew that would no longer be the case after what happened earlier.

After Lennon left, Brock went back inside the house, and his roommates just knew something went down between them. However, when they asked, Brock didn’t want to talk about it and just kind of went to his room alone until it was time to leave later on.

He thought going out with their friends would make him feel a bit better and at least get his mind off the situation, but Lennon’s absence was way too noticeable for him even to try to enjoy himself. Brock didn’t take part in karaoke. Instead, he sat at one of the tables nursing a seltzer that was room temperature because he just wasn’t in the mood.

After an hour passed and Brock still hadn’t finished the drink or taken much part in the group outing whatsoever, he figured he might as well call it an early night and head home. However, before he could, someone sat down next to him and started talking to him.

“What are you doing over here by yourself?” Asked Michael, Lennon’s twin brother, before he sipped on his beer and gave Brock a judgy look that resembled the same one he’d received from Lennon many times before.

“Hey, Mick,” Brock greeted with a smile. “I’m just not feeling it, I guess. I think I’m going head out soon.”

“Fair enough. It seems like my sister felt the same way. What a no-show.”

Mick scoffed jokingly, then looked around at their friends. Brock let out a small laugh and shrugged in response, but then he figured that maybe he could ask about Lennon seeing as he knew her twin probably knew more than he did.

“Speaking of your sister, do you know why she didn’t want to come out tonight?”

“I’m surprised you don’t,” Mick deadpanned. “But no, I haven’t been home. I figured she’d be here with you, actually, but I guess you never really know with her. I don’t know how you’re going to put up with living in the same place as her beyond the summer.”

“Same place as her?” Brock asked.

“Yeah, Lennon got accepted to do her master’s at UBC in Van,” Mick replied, then watched as Brock’s eyes widened in shock. “Woah, wait. She didn’t tell you, did she?”

“No, didn’t mention it at all.”

“Fuck, of course not. I honestly wish I could say I was surprised, but then I’d be lying.”

Brock glanced down for a brief moment, still processing what he just told, then shook his head before responding. “Mick, I say this in the nicest way possible, but Lennon gives me fucking whiplash, I swear.”

“Join the club,” Mick laughed. “I’ve been president for almost 24 years now.”

“I just, how could she not tell me?”

At that, Mick’s expression turned a bit more serious than it was before, then he sighed.

“I know it may not seem like it right now, but she really does care about you, Brock. More than she’ll let herself admit. You’re someone that’s important to her and has been for a very long time.”

“I wish she had a better way of showing it. Then I wouldn’t have to doubt so much.”

“I know,” Mick replied. “It’s a lot. But, let me tell you that what Lennon feels for you is very different from what she’s felt for any other guy before. My sister has been in a relationship with a fair share of people. I’m talking frat guys to Wall Street douchebags, she has had a few what could have been serious relationships, but those guys were not it for her. They betrayed her trust, belittled her for getting too in her head at times and then left her in the dust after they broke her. She’s always blamed herself for that and hated that she even bothered putting her heart out there, so it’s something she struggles with. But with you, Brock, she can be herself. I see Lennon at her happiest when we’re here, and it’s because of you. That’s not even something I have to think about because it’s always been that way. You’re her best friend, but what she feels for you is more than that and what it is, is that she’s scared to admit it. She doesn’t want to ruin what the two of you already have or risk getting hurt in doing so.”

Brock didn’t know what to say. He hung on to every single word that Mick said and took a moment for him to wrap his head around it all, but he already knew what to say. He’d known for a while.

“Mick, there is not a single part of me that would ever want to hurt her,” Brock explained. “Lennon is just such an important part of my life, and after what happened last summer, I also didn’t want to fuck up what we have. But, I really want to.”

“I know,” Mick stated. “And I trust you with her, Brock, that’s why I told you all of this. I don’t think you’ll hurt my sister, and she deserves someone like you. Now, I know you probably have more that you want to say on that topic, but why don’t you say it to her. She’s gotta be at home, and I just think the two of you need to not lie about how you feel anymore.”

As Mick said that, Brock couldn’t help but smile, then nod in agreement before standing up and grabbing his keys. “You’re right. I’m going to go talk to her. Thanks, Mick. I’ll see you around.”

“Make good choices!”

It didn’t take long for Brock to drive to Lennon’s house, but everything was dark when he got there. He thought about texting her but decided against it because he knew she wouldn’t answer. So instead, he got out of his car and listened. Sure enough, he could hear City and Colour’s The Girl playing softly from the backyard and knew she was there.

Brock shut the car door, knowing that Lennon would hear it, then walked down the driveway on a mission.

By the time he reached the backyard, Lennon was leaning over the railing, trying to see who it was that just got there, and Brock didn’t miss the way her eyes widened in surprise after realizing it was him.

“Brock?” She asked, then moved over to the top of the stairs as he climbed up them, still not saying anything. “What’re you-.”

Before Lennon could finish asking her question, she was cut off by Brock as he wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her towards him, not stopping until their lips met in a very firm yet delicate kiss. He took her by surprise, but Lennon reacted by closing her eyes and melting into his touch, then wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and kept him close as she deepened the kiss.

After a moment, the two of them broke away slightly, and Brock leaned his head against her’s, smiling like crazy.

“I wish I didn’t wait a month to do that again,” he said, making Lennon laugh.

“I’m not complaining,” she replied. “That’s definitely one way to make an entrance, though. But why do I have a feeling there’s more to why you’re here besides just wanting to kiss me?”

Brock smiled at that because she was right, but before he could respond, he needed to think about what he wanted to say first. As he did that, he noticed that she was wearing the same outfit as she was earlier, right down to the messy bun, but now she wore his Minnesota sweater again, and his smile grew at that. Although the sun had already set, Lennon’s eyes still glowed with how the fairy lights strung around the deck reflected in them and that mixed with the Dallas Green’s voice still singing in the background. It was tough for Brock not to just lean down and kiss her again. But he knew he couldn’t, not right away at least.

“You’re right,” he told her, then let out a breath and smirked as the song changed to She Will Be Loved. “There’s something else I want to talk about, something we haven’t discussed yet.”

“What’s that?”

“Come back to Vancouver with me. After you’re packed up in New York, let’s go to Van together.”

“Wait, you know that’s where I’m moving?” Lennon asked, surprised. “Mick told you, didn’t he? Brock, I didn’t tell you because I thought-.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Brock cut off her ranting and smiled. “It doesn’t matter. I want you there, Lennon. I want to be with you while you’re there, as more than just your friend.”

A surprised gasp left Lennon’s mouth, but she recovered quickly by smiling and pulling him in for another kiss.

“As long as I get to do that all the time, I’m game,” she responded after she broke away from him briefly, then let him close the space between them again.

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

Without even having to voice it, Lennon started leading him back towards the house, hinting at how she wanted him to stay the night, and there was no way Brock was going to say no to that.

~*~

“I had a feeling you’d have a lot of things, but I was not expecting this,” Brock huffed as he peeked out from behind a stack of moving boxes. He and Lennon were standing in the living room of her new Vancouver apartment, getting ready to unpack everything. “This is excessive.”

“Shut up, the place was unfurnished,” she grumbled in response. “What did you expect?”

“I’m just saying, this would’ve been a lot less of a hassle if you had moved in with me.”

Lennon gave her boyfriend an unimpressed look, which he responded to with a wink and a smirk before he walked towards her and pulled her into his embrace.

It was the end of August, and Lennon was finally ready to move into her new place. After she left the lake for New York a month prior, it took her about a week to get everything packed up and organized for the move to British Columbia. Lennon already had a storage locker rented in Vancouver to keep her stuff in until she was able to start moving into her apartment and had plans to go back to the lake until her lease began on the first of September and spend the rest of the summer with Brock. However, when she, Mick and their parents landed at the Vancouver airport, he was already there waiting for them.

He helped them get everything to the storage locker. Then, after Lennon’s family left to go back to the lake, she stayed with Brock at his condo with Milo and Coolie for about three weeks before getting the keys to her place.

“That’s a little forward, don’t you think?” Lennon teased him. “What a strange thing to say to your girlfriend of what, a month?”

“I mean, I’ve also known my girlfriend for almost half my life, so does that month really make a difference?”

“Cheeky,” she responded, then stood on her tiptoes so she could peck his lips before moving away from him and over to where her phone rested on the small breakfast bar. “We can see where we’re at when this lease is up. But for now, I hope you’re ready to listen to the entire Lumineers discography as we start tackling these boxes.”

“Oh, you know it,” he told her as a matter -of- factly. “And let’s not forget about the wine in the fridge.”

“Yes, we can enjoy it once there’s room to sit down somewhere.”

Brock laughed in response and shook his head as Lennon pressed play on her phone and Sleep On The Floor started playing from her Bluetooth speaker.

The two of them then started moving the boxes labelled ‘clothes’ to Lennon’s bedroom and started there. All of the furniture Lennon bought was set up already, so it was just a matter of putting things away and getting them organized. They got right to work, and although Brock was going to leave putting the clothes away to Lennon, so they went where she wanted, he figured he could at least unpack them so that she could just grab the items and go. Lennon grabbed a box and started unpacking it, so Brock did the same but had to pause once he opened the box closest to him and saw what was there.

Laying on top of a pile of sweaters was the Boeser jersey Lennon told him about. Until that moment, Brock completely forgot that she had one, but it sure made him feel good seeing it for himself. A smile tugged at his lips as he lifted it from the box and set it on the bed, then glanced at Lennon to see if she saw his reaction. She was busy getting ready to hang things up in the closet, proving that she hadn’t seen him, which Brock was perfectly content with. He did, however, feel himself getting overly happy at the thought of seeing her wear the jersey that upcoming season and grinned even wider because of it. Brock had a really good feeling about them as a couple and couldn’t wait to see where things went from there.

#brock boeser imagine #brock boeser fanfiction #brock boeser fic #vancouver canucks imagine #brock boeser story #canucks fic #canucks imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fic #hockey fanfiction

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holycatsandrabbits · 3 years

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Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 3

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Chapter 3

1996 (Three years later)

Liam got a letter in the mail that morning, another one, from New York this time. Liam didn’t know anyone in New York who would send this kind of letter. In any case, they were all from the same person, no matter the constantly changing postmark, and they all said the same hateful, frightening things.

Liam had just tossed this one into the drawer with the others when Kurt appeared out of nowhere, as only he could. Liam had done a bit of research on vampires in the three years he’d known Kurt (as much study as he could on something that was supposed to be fictional), and teleportation was not a common vampire ability. But then Kurt was not a common vampire.

“Morning,” Kurt said, dropping into a kitchen chair. He looked a bit bed-rumpled, but Liam honestly wasn’t sure whether it was because Kurt had been sleeping or because Kurt thought that humans should look bed-rumpled in the morning. “Been for your run yet?” Kurt asked.

“I was just getting ready to go.”

“Want company?”

“You’re not dressed for it,” Liam pointed out, waving a hand at Kurt’s blue jeans, and that caused Kurt to vanish again. Liam was lacing his shoes when Kurt reappeared, this time wearing athletic shorts and, crucially, no shirt. Liam’s fingers tripped over themselves and got tangled in his shoelaces like clumsy people with jump ropes.

Liam had seen Kurt without his shirt on occasionally over the last three years, most memorably when Kurt had shown Liam the scars he still carried from the earliest thing he remembered— a Bronze Age battle. There was a scar above his heart and two on his left shoulder, the marks of flint arrowheads, presumably the wounds that caused his death.

But that was not what caught Liam’s attention when Kurt was shirtless. Kurt had the build of a fighter: a slender waist, sturdy legs, broad shoulders and strong arms. His chest was smoothly muscled around the scars. Meanwhile Liam had the body of a thirty-year-old history professor who went for a run most mornings, but also had a fondness for rocky road ice cream.

Liam wasn’t sure if Kurt knew about the threatening letters. He was also not sure if Kurt knew how fervently Liam desired him. If he was aware of either, or, most importantly, felt any desire in return, he had never said. And while Liam was sorting out the shoelace mess, Kurt pulled on a shirt, so the distraction passed.

The morning was cool, with fog still gathering around the trees. While they ran, Kurt told Liam about a morning in 1914 outside of Ypres, when snow had fallen silently, covering fallen leaves and fallen soldiers alike.

Liam had learned by now that Kurt did not feel the cold. It must have been obvious during a winter campaign, when Kurt’s fingers did not stiffen with frostbite, or his toes blister with trench foot. Sometimes, Kurt had told him, his fellow soldiers thought of him as an indestructible good luck charm. Sometimes they looked on the only member of their group to emerge from a battle unscathed and called him a demon.

A countless number of Kurt’s stories ended with him holding a fellow soldier as he succumbed to injury and passed out of this world.

When they turned back onto Liam’s street, there was a blue car in Liam’s driveway that belonged to one of Liam’s students, Martina. She was standing beside the car, waving at them. Of course, she wasn’t there to see Liam.

When Liam got out of the shower fifteen minutes later, he was surprised to see Kurt in the kitchen alone, drinking the coffee that Liam kept on hand for him. Coffee and water were the only things Liam had ever seen Kurt eat or drink. “Martina didn’t stay?” Liam asked.

“No. She was just returning my jacket.” Kurt looked melancholy for a moment, a brief flash across his features before it faded back into his usual somewhat detached expression. “She met someone else. He’s moving in.”

Liam looked at him in shock. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Kurt shook his head. “I’m happy for her. She’s about to graduate anyway, so we were going to break it off.”

Martina was not the first of Liam’s students that Kurt had dated. Kurt was very good about it, really. The students he chose were from the graduate program, so all in their mid-twenties or older, and they’d all known what Kurt was. They’d chosen to be a part of his life for a while, providing him with companionship, and, though they didn’t usually state it so plainly, with blood.

“I don’t get attached,” Kurt said. “And I pick those who won’t get attached to me. I don’t have the patience for a line of angry exes. Better to be with those who will part as friends.”

“Have you ever been wrong?” Liam asked. He didn’t look at Kurt, carefully focusing on the toaster and butter dish.

“Accidentally broken someone’s heart, you mean?” Kurt asked. “Or lost my own?”

“Either.”

“Not in a long time.”

“Ah.” Liam buttered his toast with perhaps more force than was called for.

“I investigated him, though. Martina’s new boyfriend. His name is Devon.”

“Investigated,” Liam repeated. He sat down at the table opposite Kurt, accepting the cup of coffee Kurt passed to him.

“He seems like a very nice man. And he loves her.”

“So you read his mind.”

“I can’t read minds.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

Kurt looked amused. “I know. But not because I read your mind. In any case, Martina is my friend. She’s under my protection. And so are you.”

This last part was said gently, but Liam caught its meaning as overtly as he was meant to. He let out a groan and pushed away what was left of his toast. “How long have you known?”

“Long enough. The letters are mailed from around the country, but I am almost certain the sender is local. He probably travels a lot, and also has other people mail the letters without knowing what’s in them.”

“That’s what the police think. They also think they’re not serious.”

Kurt seemed immensely unimpressed by this opinion. “So did you do something that some bastard holds a grudge for? Murder his wife? Steal his parking space? Or do you think it’s because you’re gay?”

Liam’s sexuality was not something that had come up in conversation before, so Liam was a bit startled to hear it accurately described. “I have no idea,” he said. “I certainly don’t recall murdering anyone.”

“I’ve looked over the letters. No fingerprints, and I can’t find anything distinctive about the printer he uses.” When Kurt got emotional, he wore it strangely, as if he could be both agitated and unaffected at the same time. Right now his green eyes were bright and his mouth tight. His fingers curled sharply around his coffee cup, blanching white where they gripped too hard. But the rest of his body was still relaxed in the chair, stretched into the sort of lazy pretzel shape that sore legs often took after a run. Liam sometimes wondered what Kurt would be like if he stopped trying so hard to seem human.

“They’re not serious,” Liam told him.

“I’m not convinced of that. You really don’t have suspects?”

Liam shrugged. “Nobody in particular.”

“Ex-lovers?”

Liam focused on his coffee. “I haven’t had one of those for some time.”

“Family?”

“It’s just my sister and me, and we get along fine as long as she can pretend I’m not gay.”

Kurt’s fingers clenched around the coffee cup again. “This is a very intolerant period of history.”

Liam laughed, not unkindly. “It is all history to you, isn’t it? This is just another era to walk through. How odd to—”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Colleagues?”

“I’ve never had any problems. Anyway, the letters are all anti-university. Anti-technology. Unabomber-type stuff.”

“I’m not sure I trust the subject matter. Why send anti-technology missives to a history professor? It still feels personal to me. The one you got today talks about kidnapping you, Liam. That’s a very intimate threat.”

Liam groaned. “How the hell—”

“I read it while you were in the shower.” Kurt did look a little regretful, at least. “Look, I know you don’t like me being all— the way I am—”

“If I minded the vampire stuff, I’d never have agreed to work with you. What I object to is your being sneaky and intrusive on an entirely human level.”

Kurt seemed surprised, which was not a common look on him. He stared at Liam for a moment before saying, “Well, I object to being kept in the dark about your safety.”

“Kurt—”

They were interrupted by the ding noise that Liam’s computer made when he received an email. Normally Liam might ignore it, but at the moment, he welcomed the distraction.

The email was from a colleague in Germany, and as Liam read it, he forgot all about their argument. “Kurt,” he said, in an entirely different tone than the one he’d just used. Kurt was behind him in an instant, moving with that silent speed he had.

Liam traced his finger across the screen, aware that he wasn’t supposed to do that, but he hadn’t quite yet learned not to treat emails like they were pieces of paper. “Look at this. Someone found an arm bone with a flint arrowhead in the bank of the Tollense River in Germany. It’s not— it’s not a giant battle, not yet, just with one body, but it’s the right place, the right time. My colleague thinks this could be what we were looking for, and I think he’s right. Your earliest memory. Your origin. It could be Tollense.”

Kurt had knelt down so that he could read the screen more easily. When he turned his head it brought his mouth so very close to Liam’s. “You did it,” he said softly. “You found it.”

“Well, I didn’t find anything. Someone else—”

“But you put your neck on the line, theorizing about a battle in a time and place no one expected.”

“It’s not like I don’t have eye-witness evidence.”

“But no one knows that. You’ve endured a lot of controversy, trying to help me.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that. I care about—” Liam cut himself off before he could say it.

Kurt seemed to hear it anyway, because he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Liam’s.

It was a light kiss only for a few seconds, until Liam made an intensely hungry noise and Kurt responded to it, bringing his hands up around Liam’s face to hold him steady. Kurt deepened the kiss, sweeping into Liam’s open mouth with his tongue.

Liam had thought about a kiss like this, thorough and overwhelming, fantasized about it, wondered if it might happen someday because Kurt would read his mind and know how much Liam wanted it. But Liam was suddenly sure in that moment that Kurt could not read minds, or at least, that he’d left Liam’s to its secrets. If he had read it, he would have known not to kiss Liam. Because unlike the students Kurt sought out, Liam was already attached, far too much, to this utterly alien man who kissed with a technique undoubtedly honed over millennia, ranging from soft to strong all in a single lick of his tongue, instinctively knowing which parts of Liam’s mouth were most sensitive, and all with a kindness Liam had never before felt.

It was the kindness that made Liam put his hands up and push Kurt gently away. Liam didn’t want kindness at that moment, didn’t want Kurt offering this kiss out of gratitude or friendship, or because Kurt knew Liam was attracted to men and would probably enjoy it. Even because he was worried about Liam’s safety. Kurt was three thousand years old, and he’d no doubt live for many thousands of years after this. Liam’s lifespan was a drop of water in the river of Kurt’s life. Kurt had said it just this morning— he would never allow himself to get attached.

After the kiss broke, Kurt looked at Liam searchingly for a moment, and then moved away.

“We should— we should visit Germany,” Liam managed to say. Kurt just nodded.

************

The battle of Tollense is a real thing! Here is the wikipedia and another article.

************

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Updates Fridays on Ao3 and DannyeChase.com (rated E), and Tumblr (rated T)

Want to create fic, art, or other works based on this series? Please do! Just dm or tag me.

My previous serials are for Good Omens: Mr. Fell's Bookshop and Love's Endless Light

My Carrd

#Dannye writes #original fiction #serial fiction #tollense #vampires #romance

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shhhlikeme · 4 years

Text

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #11:

———————————

A/N: welcome to the final post tonight!!!!!! Thanks for staying for this marathon everybody🥱🖤 I told y’all to get ready right? Lehgo:

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

A 1-Year Anniversary For The Books 😳....🎡❄️🌃

over the next 6 months, you and Aone have had a remarkable relationship 💗

He’s beyond caring, attentive and sweet to you: even when you are moody on your period and dont want to talk to him he would drop off a basket at your house filled with a heating pad, your favourite treats, DVDs of your favourite movies and a note that explained how he felt about you

Your sex life was amazing, sex was insanely passionate and few and far between because you were both busy + Aone wanted you to know he wasn’t here for sex, though he loved it, of course

Takanobu listened to every story of yours, filled in at your cheer practices when you needed him, brought your team to competitions whenever some people didn’t have rides, and he attended the popular kids parties with you and let you do your own thing...

In addition, of course he was the best tutor you’ve ever had, letting you know before you started that you weren’t allowed to mess with his hormones to get out of it:

“Y/N. we have to study. No seduction tricks. They’re not fair.”

“Okay—!” You smiled.

“No cute-duction tricks either.”

You pouted.

“Want me to leave?” He asked, getting bold because he knew you were getting clingy, and even though he’d love to be balls deep between your heavenly legs, School came first. He needed you to graduate with him. It wasn’t an option.

“No no no baby please I’m sorry.” You pleaded.

He kissed your cheek. “Good.”

you attended baby’s intense volleyball games, so you saw his losses and it broke your heart

But you knew just how to comfort him: have him lay his head on you as you stroked his hair....give him lots of kisses and go to the pet store and spend hours the turtle section 💕

You got super close to his friends which was obviously incredible to Aone

And he’d been trying to get you to meet his family for a while, but you were too nervous

One day at the movies when Koganegawa was complaining yet again about how much his parents the other 2 members of the iron wall treated him like a baby, you interjected in the line for tickets. Aone had his arms around you from behind, making you feel safe

“Hey, wait a second. If Aone is ‘mom’ and Futakuchi is ‘dad,’ what does that make me???” You whined.

Kanji looked down at you like that was the most obvious question in the world. “You’re the hot side chick that Aone cheated on Futakuchi-senpai with.”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me—“

“Wrong.” Aone stated, glaring at Kanji. “Don’t ever associate cheating with me and Y/N. I would NEVER.”

Futakuchi rolled his eyes. “We know. Learn to take a joke,”

You turned around in Aone’s arms and got on your toes straining for a kiss. Aone smiled and leaned down to press his lips on yours. He tried to pull away but you held onto the collar of his hoodie and pulled him down again, prohibiting him from ending the kiss.

“Y/N, you better keep the same energy.” Futakuchi mumbled under his breath, walking forward as the line moved. “If my best friend ends up heartbroken I know someone else’s Cheer captain best friend who can end up being hurt just as bad in return🙃..........” he sung.

Without breaking your fantastic kiss, you stuck out your foot in the direction you knew Kenji was walking, making him trip.

“Ouch, fuck! Why do you invite her, Aone-san?!”

You smiled into the kiss.

Tbh: your relationship was..........perfect💘

........too perfect, you sometimes thought.

It kept you up at night sometimes .... the fact that you couldn’t really pin point anything wrong with him , even months later

How is it possible that while all your friends went through trials and tribulations.....ups and downs in their relationships and crushes ... and weird squares (*cough cough* Kenji, Katana, Koganegawa, Kusa 🤧 *cough cough*....but that’s for another outtake time) while you didn’t have to endure anything

Aone was protecting you from going through any pain . Proving to you his worth

Your boyfriend surprised you everyday making you happier than the last

Not to mention you have an adoptive son named Perdu that you adore 🐢💚

But you couldn’t shake the feeling deep within that told you that you didn’t deserve this

Yes, you have come to love Aone with all of your heart—he is literally an angel

But that conversation that Aone was so reluctant to have 6 months ago about how much he pined after you........it really affected you in various ways....

For one thing, why did someone so beautiful and pure and perfect have to fall for someone like you?

You had faults. You didn’t even notice him for years while he suffered in silence in the background, for God’s sake

It was as if, only after he defended you against the Class Snitch and did something for you, that’s when you noticed him—and then he just jumped at the opportunity

You could’ve played him, used him, and you’re pretty sure that he would let you. 😞

He was Not realizing how selfish the whole thing seemed

And then there’s the whole fact that Aone has liked you for 2 years..... and no one else? Even when you didn’t notice him?

Yeah, you couldn’t even lie about that one to yourself. He really only liked you and only had eyes for you. Even though you hadn’t even known he was even an option for you.

It broke your heart—

Yes, you loved him now.

But that conversation 6 months ago...... it made you understand how much of an amazing, absolutely unbelievable human being he is, even before you two started dating = you haven’t been able to shake this feeling of unfairness....

The feeling that you do not deserve him

Maybe you wanted him for the sex that felt so good it made you cry every time?

Or all the things he does for you because he was so whipped?

Meanwhile he endured relentless cockteasing from you because he tried not to give into his urge so you wouldn’t think he wanted you for that ...always putting you first..... what hormonal male DOES that?

He’s perfect

But Maybe that was the big pull...you know?

perhaps it was just a pull and this isn’t how it is supposed to be

Aone deserves someone as amazing and selfless as him, no?

What if he deserved better? As long as you were in the way he’d only accept you and shut out any girl who could be even better for him.

A girl that wouldn’t have ignored him for 2 years .

When you started expressing your concerns, Katana, your best friend knew this point would come.

“Do not self destruct, Y/N. Just because you get scared when y’all are getting serious. That man is crazy about you.” Katana pleaded with you at your locker one day as you shuffled through your messy locker.

“I’m not self destructing, and I know he is..... but maybe that’s the problem? I get a perfect boyfriend and what does Aone get? I just hope that this is, a fair transaction in the Universe.....”

“You love that man too. I know you do! Besides, everyone can see the way his entire demeanour has lit up and changed since you two got together. He’s like a new person and it’s almost been a whole year.... look at him.”

You found your pencil case and closed your locker, looking over in the direction Katana called your attention to. Aone was talking to Koganegawa and Kusa, laughing loudly...something no one had ever seen him do a year before now. Your heart sunk because you were the cause of that happiness. He was a new man, and he was so happy to be with you. It made your heart hurt.

Aone glanced over in your direction just then, making eye contact with you and instantly smiling brightly. He said some form of goodbye to his friends like he always did when he spotted you, dropping everything to greet you and hold your books.

What made you so special... to deserve such a man?

If you asked Aone, he’d have a list of ways he could answer that question, but, for you, you forced yourself to believe he was just taken away with your looks....and that he just convinced himself he liked you deeper because of how pretty you were. He loves sex but tries not to have it, maybe it’s because you’d catch on to him being like every other guy that just wants you and the rest of the cheerleaders for your bodies? I mean, even his best friend Futakuchi is like that!

No, he was a terrible liar.

Aone is gorgeous, tall, muscular, handsome....... girl after girl check him out and want him. Maybe one of them deserved him more than you do....

Thoughts like that whirled through your mind all the time from summer to winter...

Tonight, on the night of your 1 year anniversary, it was no different. Aone had made it clear for months to his team that he wouldn’t be attending practice on this date

🥺

Instead, he treated you to a luxurious dinner on a yacht and then you both went one of the highest Ferris wheels in the world that gave a great view of the city night lights of Japan:

It was so romantic, and Aone was just the happiest man on earth holding you closer as you leaned into his side because you loved Ferris wheels but you were chilly in this temperature.

Your boyfriend pulled your hat down for you so it was covering your ears

He took your hands in his and blew hot air on them to keep you warm, spreading the heated blanket he’d bought so it covered more of you than him.

“Still cold? Want my jacket?”

“I’m good.” You grinned.

His heart warmed.

“Y/N.”

You looked up at your boyfriend, hearing the sudden change to seriousness in his tone. Aone sported that blush that he had the first time you’d kissed him on the cheek. He was still nervous around you even after an entire year and it had to do with his strong feelings of love toward you. He was sure they’d never go away.

Takanobu dug into his pocket and pulled out two small individually wrapped boxes. One square and one rectangular. The silver boxes were wrapped in little yellow bows, yellow-your favourite colour.

“More gifts, Aone?” You asked softly, you couldn’t help but frown. He was always spoiling you beyond belief. “You promised the dinner was your only gift,”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Happy 1-year anniversary. You make me so happy and I really hope you’ll be so kind as to bless me with more years.”

You took off your mittens and took the boxes from him, your stomach in knots the entire time.

You felt so different. Your heart hurt.

You placed the boxes in your lap and Aone tried not to smile. You delicately untied both bows, removing the lids before gasping.

“Aone..........” you said quietly. “Oh, Aone, they are beautiful.”

Mountain man smiled. “You don’t have to wear them.....I just really wanted to gift them to you because—“

You interrupted him. “You don’t think I’d wear them?” You asked, hurt. Hurt for him because you could tell that he still felt that you were too good to be true.

“Well the promise ring m-might be too flashy, or the turtle might be seen as a little juvenile by your teammates, so—“

That did it.

Your heart broke.

It couldn’t be any more clear now.

You didn’t deserve this man.

“Aone.” Your voice cracked as you spoke. You willed yourself not to cry.

But this time it wasn’t tears of joy that almost fell the day he confessed, these were the truest of all types tears..... tears of sorrow.

Aone leaned down and brushed your hair out of your face so he could see your face. “Y/N? What’s wrong? I-I can always return them if you don’t like them.... it-it’s not a problem in the slightest—“

“—We need to break up, Aone.”

Freezing, Takanobu thought he hadn’t heard that.

He paused for a good ten seconds.

“W-what?” He asked, his voice cracking.

You refused to look at him.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you could say without bursting into tears. “I can explain more on a later date, but I’ve thought about it for a while, and that’s my decision.”

Aone’s heart shattered, instantly feeling like the world had been turned upside down on him. I mean sure, Aone thought maybe one day you’d realize you deserved better—but that’s why he spent every day devoting his time to treating you well so maybe you’d choose him.

He guessed he hadn’t been trying hard enough.

“I-is it something I did?” He took a deep breath. “Something I can change? Please,”

You shook your head, feeling the cold breeze of this winter night in your core. “Nothing you did. You’re amazing, Aone-san.“

“The-Then can you please reconsider—“

“No,” you choked. “Can we get off now? Please?”

Always listening to you, Aone shakingly pressed the button that let the Ferris Wheel operator know you wanted one final spin.

Which meant Aone had about 1 minute to change your mind while his whole world fell apart. He felt dizzy. He didn’t even know how he was still functioning, running on pure adrenaline, no doubt. He felt like this was another dream—no, a nightmare.

“If-if it’s something I did, Y/N, I sincerely apologize—“ He felt stupid to think you were actually enjoying yourself in a relationship with him.

You looked out into the skyline, directing your attention to the Japan night lights. The cold air quickly dried the single tear that escaped your eye.

“It’s nothing you did............” yet. Not until you realize you deserve so much better, You wanted to say.

“Then can I have one more chance? Please?”

Your boyfriend....no, ex-boyfriend threw everything he’s every heard from Futakuchi about being cool around his crush and begged for you. You were basically his world, the reason he’s truly lived a life of happiness and not just remained quiet and stoic like he used to be before you entered his life.

Aone stayed silent for a second and raked his brain for things he might have done to upset you. He couldn’t find one, but you wouldn’t do this for no reason, so he hated himself for not figuring it out.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

All too soon, the ride came to an end and you handed the gifts back to him before quickly scrambling out of the Ferris wheel.

Aone took a second to stare at the necklace and ring before stumbling out after you, feeling like there was an extra thousand pounds on his chest as you walked away from him in the dark night. You two were in the empty parking lot of the Ferris wheel.

“Y/N..... at least let me drive you home!” He yelled, dropping the heated blanket and gifts on the snow. He was in so much pain he couldn’t hold onto anything.

“I texted Kusa. She’s coming.” You called back, not daring to turn around because if you did you would just jump into his arms.

Aone couldn’t stop the tears that welled up behind his eyes. He’d never felt this level of pain before. He would choose to endure going through the pain of losing his last volleyball game in 3rd year everyday if it meant he didn’t have to feel what he was feeling now.

Before he started crying—something he hasn’t done since he was maybe 7 years old—Aone ran over to you, stepping in front of you to beg one last time.

“Y/N. Can I at least still be in your life? As fr-friends, even?” He asked heartbrokenly, unable to cope with not being anything to you anymore and going back to loving you from afar. He wouldn’t be able to handle that.

You walked around him, wiping your face of cold tears that luckily blended in with the pelting downfall of snow. “Okay.” You had to say, unable to refuse such a broken man. “Friends.”

The word friend stopped Aone where he stood. It was the last word he heard you say before he confessed to you at the bowling alley exactly a year ago, and now it was the last word he heard you say after you crushed his heart in front of a Ferris Wheel...

You kept walking further and further away from this mountain man that was so internally destroyed, he couldn’t take another step.

❄️ ❄️

It was 40 minutes later when Kenji had reached the empty Ferris Wheel lot. He saw a mountainous figure drenched in snow, its head slung down and shoulders dropped as if he was at a funeral. Kenji ran over and threw a blanket over his best friend’s shoulders, basically pushing him toward his car because he could barely move himself. On the drive, Kenji turned all of the hot air vents toward Aone so that the heat was blasting on him. The shell of a man just stared out the window like he had no purpose. Futakuchi couldn’t help but go in best-friend-protective-mode, tossing questions at him:

“I had to GPS your location after Kusa texted me! What happened?! Did Y/N break up with you, on your anniversary?! Really?! Ughhhh I knew this would happen. Aone, I’m here for you, big guy. Okay? It was me, you and the team before her, and it will be us after her, even though our season is over. I’m here. Okay? Can you please talk to me so that I know you’re okay?”

Aone didn’t answer his best friend that night, and Kenji knew it would be that way. As we all know, he is great at predicting things.

But what Kenji didn’t predict, however, was that it would be two and a half weeks until Aone would speak to anyone.... again.

❄️

———————————

A/N: I cried several times. Would love to hear y’alls thoughts

Taglist: @crushzone @galagcica @chaichai-the-weeb @nairobiisqueen @bisasterrr @juminly

Outtake #12: CLICK HERE

#aone takanobu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #haikyuu stories #aone takanobu #kenji futakuchi #koganegawa kanji #hq headcanon #hq headcannons #haikyuu headcannons #haikyuu headcanons #aone x reader #aone x y/n #haikyuu boys #haikyuu!!#haikyuuwritersnet #haikyuu angst #hq series

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backtothestart02 · 3 years

Text

Teacher’s Pet - 1/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: Written for Mi on twitter. <3 Is there any new fic I won’t start and never update? *nervous laughter* Hopefully this will be updated soon. Hope you all enjoy. It’s the forbidden college teacher-student romance au you never knew you needed. Iris is much older than Barry and the rest of the chars (minus Scott). Just an fyi.

...

Synopsis: AU - Fresh off a break-up, the last person Barry expects to fall for is his new English teacher.

...

Chapter 1 -

The university building loomed just ahead on the far side of the courtyard. It was menacing in its stature, for what it represented. A return to academics, sure, but that was something Barry had always enjoyed. No, this building was menacing because it thrust into his face the reality that he almost hadn’t passed any of his classes the previous semester. He had a long way to go to get back to the top of his class and to a place where his parents would be proud of him again. That was important to him.

He stepped out of his car and shut the door behind him, gulping as he looked up at the flag whipping in the wind in plain view of the building. It was cold outside. There was still snow on the ground. His boots crunched as he walked on the ground and around the car to pop open the trunk and grab the two duffel bags he’d taken home with him on winter break.

His phone started to buzz when he was halfway to the building. Reluctantly, he dropped his bags in the snow and answered it.

“Hey, Cisco.”

“Barry! Finally, you answered!”

Barry frowned.

“I just got back to school. You know I don’t pick up the phone when I’m driving.”

He could practically feel Cisco rolling his eyes on the other end.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Where are you at?”

Barry looked around.

“Right in front of our building,” he said. “Think you can come down and open the door for me? My hands are kinda full.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure thing.”

“Unless you’re too busy?”

“Mid-game actually.” Barry could hear video game noises in the background. They abruptly stopped. “But for you, I pause. I’ll be right there.”

“Great. Tha-”

But Cisco hung up before he could finish.

Barry shoved the phone back in his coat pocket and picked up his bags again. Then he trudged over to the building, stuffing the dread he’d felt on seeing the place again as far down as he could muster.

“There he is! Man of the hour!” Cisco declared, opening the door just as he arrived.

“Thanks, man.”

“It’s the least I could do. Personally, I was starting to wonder if you’d ever get here.”

Barry snorted.

“I don’t exactly live close by.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Here let me-”

But Barry held both bags out of reach.

“They’re heavy, Cisco. I put as much as I could into them before I left.”

“I remember. I was surprised the zipper didn’t break.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he drawled, shifting one bag over his shoulder. “Just lead the way.”

“Suit yourself. You may change your mind though.”

“What would make me do that?”

“The fact that the elevator is under construction for another month.”

Barry abruptly dropped one of the bags just shy of his foot.

“What, for real? I thought they were going to finish that over break.”

Cisco shrugged. “Guess not.”

Barry blew out a puff of air and reluctantly handed a bag over to his roommate.

“Shit, what do you got in here, bricks? Cement blocks? Oh, I know, pure gold.”

“Told you it was heavy.”

Barry moved past him towards the stairs.

“We still on the third floor?”

“Last time I checked.”

Barry nodded and took the stairs two at a time.

“Hey, Mr. Long Legs,” Cisco called out when he was only halfway up the stairs and Barry was turned the corner to the next staircase. “Slow up a bit, would ya?”

“Sorry.” Barry stopped. “But if I stop for too long, I’ll lose my energy and before you know it, I’ll be unpacking in the middle of the stairs.”

Heaving by the time he reached them, Cisco could only gesture for him to continue. Barry had to smile a bit to himself, but by the time they reached it to the final platform, he was due for some extra oxygen too.

“We should start working out.”

“On campus?” Cisco asked. “You know who’s always hogging the fitness center.”

Barry didn’t need a reminder.

“Wally West, yeah, I know.”

“He doesn’t exactly like you.”

“He stole my girlfriend.”

“To be fair, he’s been working out longer than you.”

“I don’t work out.”

“Case in point.”

“We could start walking.”

“In this weather?” Cisco visibly shivered. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

“So, what, we just stay skinny and pale for the rest of our lives?”

“I’ll just stay skinny, thank you very much. And after what you went through last semester, maybe the last thing you should be focused on is buffing up for the ladies.”

Barry rolled his eyes. He didn’t need the reminder. He hadn’t been in love with Linda, so her breaking up with him for cocky jock Wally West bruised his ego more than his heart, but it still hurt. He liked her, and he thought after a year of dating, they had something real. Guess he was wrong.

Spending the tail end of the semester trying to win her back instead of focusing on his finals was probably the reason he’d nearly flunked out of every class he’d been taking. He wouldn’t be doing that again.

Abruptly, he realized Cisco was still talking.

“You know the real reason Wally bothers you so much isn’t just because of Linda.”

“No? What is it then, oh, wise one?”

Cisco turned the key in the door to their room and stepped inside, dropping Barry’s bag on the floor for him to pick up and carry across the room.

“It’s because he skates by in his classes too. He rarely shows up, rarely puts in an effort, and yet, because his sister teaches, she has an in with his records and sweet talks the other teachers to let him slide by.”

Barry straightened after shrugging out of his coat and kicking his boots off.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Surprise!” Cisco said animatedly.

Barry was not amused.

“I have her as my English teacher this semester.”

Cisco winced. “Yikes.”

Barry scowled.

“I hear she’s pretty though. Like, drop-dead gorgeous.”

“I’m not gonna date my teacher.”

“Who said anything about dating her? She’s just something nice to look at. Maybe she’ll be sweet on you.”

“Oh, yeah, the woman who’s cheating the system so her brother graduates will give me – the ex to her brother’s girl whose gpa has seriously tanked over the last months – a fair chance.”

Cisco shrugged.

“It’s only one class?”

Barry sighed.

“Yeah, I guess.” He shook his head. “I need a distraction from all this.”

Cisco snapped his fingers.

“Video games!”

Barry considered it.

“Yeah, I guess that might do it.”

“It will do it.” He picked up a controller and handed it to him. “Here. I’ll even delete all my progress so we can both play.”

Barry snorted.

“Thanks, man. You’re one in a million.”

“Better than Linda and Wally combined.”

“And Ms. West.”

“Professor West she likes to be called.”

Of course she does.

Barry rolled his eyes and reached over to Cisco’s controller to start the game and shut him up.

“Hey, what did y-”

“Play!”

Cisco shook his head and started to play, eventually forgetting his minor irritation and focusing wholeheartedly on the game and having his best friend back in his space again.

It would be a good semester. Despite all odds, Barry would excel. He had no doubt.

…

Iris draped the fuzzy blanket over her legs and sank into her couch. After a tasty dinner for one and an exhilarating bath, here she was ready to enjoy a few chapters of her current favorite book for the night. Tomorrow classes would start up again, and she would have to be up at the crack of dawn to be in teacher mode. It had been a solid month and a half of relaxation and freedom – minus the small inconvenience of having Wally crash with her and frequently invite his new girlfriend over. But aside from that, it had been nice.

She enjoyed teaching though, always had. Running the school newspaper helped channel her passions for something more. And when she wasn’t worrying about whether or not she would be the only one in her family graduating college, she could enjoy being a flirt to just about every man on staff. The other women envied her. She didn’t care. She didn’t sleep around. It was all in good fun. And it would all resume tomorrow morning, bright and early.

A sudden loud noise interrupted her thoughts. She looked toward the door and found to her great annoyance that it was her brother, whose lips were attached to the new girl she’d met only twice over the last month. Her eyes narrowed when she realized his hands were searching out the hem of her shirt and the zipper of her skirt.

“Uh, Wally?”

No response. Just more moans and groping.

“Hey, Wally!” She snapped – literally.

His eyes opened, and he distanced himself from his girl, though only slightly.

“Iris. Hey. What are y-”

“I live here, remember?”

“Yes, right. I know. I just thought…”

“It’s nine o’clock, and you’re crashing on my couch. Where were you expecting to go?”

He had the gall to have a straight face.

Meanwhile, the girl just inches from him blushed.

“Oh, my God, Wally,” she whispered under her breath. “I thought you said she wouldn’t be home.”

Iris got to her feet.

“You were going to fuck in my bed.”

“Well, I…”

“You were!”

“Maybe I should go…” the mortified girl muttered.

“Yeah, I think you’d better,” Iris barked.

“Hey! Don’t talk to her like that!” Wally ordered.

Iris’ eyes widened.

“Maybe you should leave too.”

“And go where?”

“I don’t know. Home?”

“I came here so I didn’t have to. You know they’d never take me. They can’t stand the sight of me.”

“Yeah, well, right now I can’t really stand the sight of you either.”

He fumed. She fumed right back.

“I’ll just go,” the girl piped up again. “I’m so sorry about this, Iris.” She swallowed hard.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Both women gave him a deadly glare until finally Wally relented. He softened as he turned to his girlfriend.

“I mean, do you really want to go?”

“I…”

Iris was in disbelief. This was her apartment!

“I’m calling mom.”

He spun around to face his sister instead.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Leave.” She pointed toward the door. “Come back when you have your priorities straightened out.”

He scoffed but wrapped his arm around his girl and guided her to the door.

“Come on, Linda. We can go to your place.”

“I have a roommate,” she panicked.

“Guess you won’t be fucking then,” Iris said dryly.

Wally glared but left the apartment. Iris locked the door immediately. He had a key, so it wasn’t going to keep him out, but it would give her some peace of mind until she went to bed.

Heaving a sigh, she collapsed back on the couch and closed her eyes for a few minutes before grabbing her book and relaxing into it again.

It took a while, and she was just about into the zone of where the characters were headed when there was a knock on the door.

She sighed, aggravated, and deliberately set the book down on the coffee table. Then she got to her feet and headed toward the door.

“So help me, Wallace, if that is actually you… If you lost your key… If you’re coming back this soon, there better be an apology,” she muttered heatedly.

She was so focused on the possibility that it was her brother that she flung the door open without looking through the peephole and was fuming when she came face to face with a familiar yet completely unexpected face.

“Scott?”

“Did I…come at a bad time?”

She blinked, suddenly aware of just a teddy beneath her fluffy robe. She looked him over and debated her options. He looked dashing, as always, and the easy charm was there in his half-amused smile pulling at his lips. There’d been an easy flirtation between the two of them since they’d met five years ago, but they’d never acted on it. Now here he was the night before the spring semester started with red roses in one hand and an uncurling fist that was probably sweaty as the other.

Suddenly, she needed nothing more than to act out one of the steamy love scenes in her book. Damn it all to hell what the next day brought.

She grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him into her apartment, kissing him soundly on the lips. He made no attempt to push away, and in fact moved to undress her through the far less layers as she was undressing him.

The door was shut, and the flowers dropped in the flurry of it all, and before either of them realized the gravity of what had happened, they were in Iris’ bedroom fucking, and Iris was kind of smug about it because it should serve Wally right for trying to do it first.

That didn’t mean she’d let him spend the night however. If Wally saw him gossip would spread, no doubt to get back at her, and she didn’t need either of their teaching reputations ruined like that.

So, about ten minutes after they’d crested, and Scott was laying in bed beside her with a gigantic grin on his face, Iris propped herself up and made a gesture towards the door.

“Okay, time for you to go.”

His jaw dropped.

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, honey.” She stroked his chest. “You were fantastic.”

“Then?”

“We’re not together. I was just feeling stressed out, and you alleviated my stress. Thank you.” She smiled serenely.

He blinked.

“Seriously, go. If Wally sees you here, gossip will spread before either of us gets a word in our classes tomorrow. That’s hardly the best way to start the semester.”

He blinked again, still trying to process. She didn’t like that.

“Go!” She pulled on her robe and yanked him out of her bedroom.

He seemed to figure out what was going on by that point and caught his clothes as she threw them at him.

“I…uh…”

“I’ll see you tomorrow in the hall.”

“You will?” he asked hopefully.

“In the hall,” she repeated.

He frowned, and she sighed, moving swiftly past him to open the door and usher him out.

“Did you like the flowers at least?” he asked pathetically.

“They’re lovely,” she assured. “Goodnight, Scott.”

Then she closed the door in his face and locked it, promptly turning and throwing out the flowers without even a single sniff. Wally couldn’t see she had flowers. He was annoyingly observant and picked up on shit like that.

She returned to her bedroom, changed the sheets, and took a quick shower to rinse off the sweat. Then she settled in to sleep with a smile on her face. Amazing what a one-night stand could do for a girl’s mood.

This semester was going to be great.

#westallen #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #teacher's pet #chapter 1

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fellowstrangetownappreciator · 3 years

Text

Making Your Sims' Education Experience Suck: College Gameplay Rules

I love universities in TS2. I think they're a very swift compact experience that can really shape the way you play your Sims. (expanded Wants & Fears panel rules!)

Buuut...

I developed a bit of a problem. You see, my perfectionist side was not about to let any Sim graduate with anything but flying colors and no one got even close to being expelled. It was just: Move to a dorm, skill like there was no tomorrow, be gay do crime assignments, enter the secret society, accidentally develop a crush on the evil cow mascot, graduate, rinse and repeat. Everytime it went about the same.

Not anymore! My two braincells got together and with a massive amount of inspiration from Pleasant Sims and her gameplay rules, conceived a rule-set to put an end to that!

I'm not capable of an original thought.

So without further ado, this is how college goes for my Sims:

Skilling

Only allowed when the Sim either rolls a want to do it or to use a skill-building item, alternatively to perform a skill-building activity.

When on Academic Probation or in the very last semester, I do a method I scientifically call "poking with a stick". I basically strategically lay out high-end skill-building objects around the dorm and I hope they get the memo and go use them autonomously. And if the household doesn't have the funds to do that? Well, then we're out of luck.

(Congrats on that Academic Probation, though!)

Academic work has the same rules as skilling, therefore Sims can only do it autonomously or after they roll a corresponding wish. There is one work-around I do, though.

Once per a semester, an academically destitute Sim can call up a teacher if they roll a social want. An hour or so on the phone with the teacher does wonders.

Relationships

If a teen couple has a bolt or less, they're considered broken up and no effort from my side will be done to rekindle the relationship in college, though it can always happen autonomously or through wants.

If it's not the current generation's "resurrection teen" who has a way to catch wind of the secret society somehow, I have to resist the temptation to have everyone drop what they were doing and run to befriend every secret society member that comes their way.

In every wave of Sims in college, I tend to have at least one who has a want to resurrect a loved one and who purposefully searches for a Resurrect-O-Nomitron. That's the aforementioned "resurrection teen".

If two playables make enemies or they already were enemies before they came to uni and they disrupt the "peace" in the dorm, I wait if they both roll the want to join a Greek House. If they do, I pretend they got a special assignment to start one, and they're starting their own together the next school year.

It suffices to say, quiet evenings in this household were... interesting.

A Greek House of two. And the two... hate each other’s guts. Will they manage to push through and cooperate, so that the House reaches the highest level and they both graduate?

Money

I usually use Monique’s Hacked Computer to start bank accounts for individual students where they deposit most of their grants. The rest of their grants goes to paying bills. But! If a Sim has a want to buy something and it is a reasonable want (no, you’re in college, you won’t get a sauna, Dustin!), I’ll buy it for the household from their grant. After they graduate, they can keep the item in their inventories.

After they graduate, I split the remaining household funds among Sims evenly. Sims who get expelled only take the minimum the game decides appropriate, nothing less, nothing more. That can be a win if the household struggles and splitting evenly the Sim would’ve gotten way less but it can also be an additional penalty.

And that’s about all! I usually try to let my Sims decide everything they can, their major, their focus on study, their relationships, and these rules were made to reflect that but whether I succeeded, who knows? Anyway, since I lost my hood and had to start all over again, I’ll soon put them to the test again! Meanwhile I’ll be sure to prepare a post about how it went the last time.

#the sims 2 #simbrl #ts2

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owletstarlet · 4 years

Note

For a prompt, maybe a Tanunatsu college AU? I'm sort of picturing something where Natsume is visiting the shrine for a weekend and Tanuma is trying not to focus on the fact that his boyfriend now has earrings

(*insert profuse apology for how long this took here* I had initially wanted to get this posted in time for @natsumeweek as one of the prompts was “future” but I guess this is more an early happy-September-birthday-to-Tanuma fic...

ao3 link in the comments.

When the doorbell rings, it’s a near thing for Kaname to not spill his tea all over the keyboard. He has to remind himself several times on his way to answer it not to look as ludicrously eager as he feels, as though his heart might float right on up and out through the top of his head, in case it’s a mail carrier or a maintenance worker at the door.

It isn’t.

It takes all of a second and a half before Kaname’s got his arms full of him, face buried in his hair.

“Hi,” he mutters, voice muffled against the top of Natsume’s head.

“Hi,” Natsume says back, and Kaname can hear the grin in his voice, feel the arms coming to rest around his waist.

They stand like that for several seconds, in the genkan with the door wide open, and Kaname can feel all the tension he’s been holding for six weeks bleed out of him. Eventually, he asks, “How was your flight?”

“I liked it.” His voice is just as muffled against Kaname’s shoulder. “Sensei didn’t.”

“Really?” Kaname finally pulls back enough to see his face. He looks well, relaxed and smiling, the barest dusting of freckles across his nose from time spent outdoors, and it’s almost enough to push a month and a half’s worth of swirling images and morbid what ifs out of his mind. “You’d think Ponta would enjoy flying.”

Natsume rolls his eyes a little, but there’s something fond in the set of his mouth. “He complained the whole time, about being stuck in human form, and kept saying it was unnatural or something to be up so high where he couldn’t even see the treetops past all the clouds.”

Kaname grins at the thought. “Where’s he off to right now?” He pulls Natsume into the genkan, finally lets him go so he can get his shoes off.

“Probably off getting drunk. Or begging snacks off Touko-san. She was pretty happy to see him.”

Natsume’s been up in Aomori for a little over a month, on a few jobs with the Matsuokas. Field training, as Natori had cheerfully put it to Kaname over the phone. And Kaname hadn’t been thrilled about that, but had felt marginally better to hear that Natori would accompany him for most of the trip.

The Matsuoka clan wasn’t particularly prominent or large, but they were well-funded and well-connected. It was Natori who’d reached out to them over a year ago, once Natsume had given his slightly grudging consent to it. Since then Natsume’s been living two and a half hours away in a spacious apartment and attending a university to which the Matsuokas happened to be generous donors. In exchange for this, and their tutelage, Natsume accompanies and assists them with exorcisms. They’re apparently pleased enough to have him, and Natsume’s told Kaname that they haven’t asked him to do anything he’s opposed to; it’s often either binding a harmful entity or else simply sitting down to listen to whatever it is the troublesome youkai-of-the-day is after. But despite Natori being on good terms with the head of the clan, he’d had to make it perfectly clear that Natsume had no interest in longterm recruitment. Or, at the very least, that potential adoption into the clan was to be a decision that Natsume would be entirely free to turn down.

Kaname himself, meanwhile, hasn’t gone anywhere since graduation. Natori had floated the idea of Kaname joining Natsume, that the Matsuokas be perfectly willing to take him on. And, admittedly, the prospect of learning how to defend himself, and others, with the basics of exorcism under his belt had its appeal. Especially since a big factor in Natsume’s own decision had been an ugly encounter with some cave-dwelling youkai that had landed him in the hospital for weeks, an incident which had ultimately led to the truth--or parts of it, at least-- spilling out to the Fujiwaras. Kaname still has nightmares about it.

It was ultimately the prospect of being able to go with Natsume while he was out on a job instead of having to sit around and fret about it that had had Kaname prepared to agree to the offer. But then Dad had needed knee surgery, and a complicated one at that. And Kaname learned very quickly just how much work it takes to run a temple essentially on one’s own. Theirs was part of a larger organization of temples in the prefecture, who had arranged for Dad to be sent here in the first place. To be fair, they’d been as helpful as they were able, and are still paying Dad a salary. Another priest would come two or three days a week to fulfill necessary duties and rites and enabling them to stay at least partially open to visitors while Dad recuperated, and a maintenance worker would show up once a week to help Kaname care for the actual grounds. But Kaname still typically spends the better part of his week at the desk of Dad’s cramped office poring over order forms and spreadsheets he doesn’t always understand, attempting to balance the books of a little temple that barely takes in enough revenue to stay afloat even with the organization’s support. He’s gotten better at it, and Dad’s helped a lot, but even though he’s recovered enough to receive visitors and resume some of his religious duties, Kaname still tries to keep him out of the office most days so he can get some rest.

Still, Dad worries, not only that Kaname is overworking himself but about how his friends have all gone off to school, how he rarely leaves the temple grounds unless he’s running errands. He knows about Natori’s offer regarding the Matsuokas, Kaname’s discussed it with him. And though he’s made it clear that it’s ultimately Kaname’s decision he’s made it equally clear that he likes the idea—both for the sake of Kaname’s mental health and for the prospect of him learning how to better protect himself. On occasions when Dad’s pushed himself too hard and worn himself out, Kaname has threatened to accept the offer but go on to major in accounting just to get hired on by the temple organization and then end up right back home. But he has to admit, he’s been dreaming of it—of the airy kitchen that always smells just a bit like the tea Natsume drinks in the mornings, of the sun-dappled corner where Sensei likes to curl up and nap, of the balcony overlooking a cityscape both unfamiliar and beautiful in its own way, the mountains that look blue in the distance. Of waking up to Natsume’s cheek squashed against the pillow beside him, safe and whole and wonderfully there. He’ll probably have to wait until the next academic year begins, but he thinks it wouldn’t be so bad at all.

“I have something for you,” he tells Natsume now, scooping up the backpack Natsume had set down while taking off his shoes. Natsume smiles, tilts his head just a bit in question. But when he does, Kaname sees something, a glinting just beneath his hair on one side. He blinks, steps forward to brush Natsume’s hair back. “What’s—”

And when he sees what it is, he thinks his face must do something odd, because Natsume’s smile has faltered a bit, turned sheepish. “I actually thought you’d have noticed them already,” he says.

“I left my glasses by the computer,” he murmurs, and he thinks he’s staring. He should probably stop staring. “And your hair’s gotten longer anyways.”

Natsume shrugs, looking a touch pinker than before. “It’s just on the one side.” A pause. “It doesn’t look weird, does it? I don’t really trust Natori’s opinion.”

“It’s not weird.” The answer is immediate, almost embarrassingly so. He realizes they haven’t moved from the genkan, and that he hasn’t quite managed to quit staring, so he takes Natsume’s hand and tugs him towards the kitchen. He hopes his palms aren’t as clammy as he thinks they are.

There are two hoops in his left earlobe, side by side, one silver and one gold, catching the light from behind strands of pale hair. They’re subtle enough—Kaname doesn’t think the tip of his little finger could fit through either—but the sight of them makes the air stick strangely in Kaname’s throat.

“Did they hurt?” he asks, a moment later.

“Not really.” Natsume takes a seat at the worn kitchen table, hand hovering up near his ear in a way that’s half considering, half self-conscious. “Right when they do it, yes, but not so much after.”

Kaname goes to get Natsume a drink, but pauses with his hand on the refrigerator door, considering. “Any particular reason you got it done?” he starts, tone as light as possible. If Natsume’s already shy about it, Kaname doesn’t want to make it worse, but he can’t pretend he isn’t curious. “Just because you wanted to, or…”

“No, I—I mean. I don’t hate it, but there was a reason.” The shade of Natsume’s cheeks is on just this side of salmon when Kaname glances back, and it’s so frankly adorable that Kaname has to turn his back again, not trusting himself to keep a straight face. “Do you remember the farm in Aomori I told you about?” Natsume continues. “The owners had called the Matsuokas for an exorcism because their livestock kept getting sick so we stayed for a few days.”

“I remember.” He also remembers all the grim visuals his own imagination had served up over the course of those three long days, until he’d gotten the text that all was resolved and that Natsume was safe and whole and on a train away from that place.

“The family had a connection to a lesser exorcist clan that sort of fizzled out a few generations ago. And Sayaka-san—ah, the wife—was really her aunt and uncle’s only heir because they didn’t have children. They were both exorcists, and she’d inherited a few things from them.”

“Did the angry ayakashi have something to do with that clan?” Kaname asks, setting two cups of lemonade on the table and sliding into the seat across from Natsume. And god if it doesn’t do something to him, to see Natsume right there, right across from him, pale fingers wrapping easily around the lumpy clay cup Kaname made in middle school, afternoon light through the window settling in his hair and glinting starlike off those new tiny hoops in his ear and every day, Kaname wants this every day. Just this. He swallows, hard, forces himself to pay attention because Natsume’s talking again.

“It actually had nothing to do with them. The farm had been owned by her husband’s family anyhow, but. The land the farm sat on was at the center of some dispute between two ayakashi, some territory thing they bicker about every hundred years. All Sensei and I really did was get them both to agree to meet each other, and they mostly sorted it out themselves from there.”

Kaname blinks. “The Matsuokas didn’t do anything?”

Natsume shrugs. “They didn’t really need to. Sensei worked out what was going on pretty quickly, and didn’t really wait up for their help. He thought the exorcists barging in would just make things worse.” He pauses to take a sip of lemonade. As soon as he does, his eyes light up. “Ah—your lavender! You got to harvest it?”

Kaname feels a grin touch his lips as he watches Natsume take a second, larger gulp of the lemonade, in his face all the bliss of an elementary schooler who’s gotten his hands on an ice cream pop at the park. He’s a bit surprised Natsume didn’t notice the smell straightaway when Kaname had poured it, but to be fair the entire kitchen smells a bit like lavender most days. “I did. I’ll tell you about it later. Finish your story first.”

He does, after yet another hearty gulp. “When it was all resolved and we went to tell the family, Sayaka-san wanted to give me a gift. I told her not to, because it was more Sensei than me, and Hiiragi helped too—Natori sent her with me because Sensei didn’t want him there either—they made sure neither of the ayakashi could get away until they settled the dispute. I asked a couple of questions, mostly because I wasn’t sure what was going on—it was something about a sacred pine grove—but it wasn’t like I resolved things for them.”

Kaname doesn’t need to hear the specifics to be soundly convinced that Natsume’s not giving himself near enough credit. He takes his own sip of lemonade, the tartness of it tempered by the softer herbal taste that lingers on his tongue. “What was the gift?”

Natsume smiles, a bit rueful. “Earrings.”

Kaname points. “Those?”

“No, these were just to get the piercings done, but I can show you later. They’re talismans, and pretty effective ones from what Sensei could tell. It’s a set of six, they’re little round polished stones in all different colors. I’ve got the types of stone written down somewhere and what each of them is useful for but I don’t really remember. Sayaka-san had inherited them from her aunt and uncle.”

“Did she know what they were for?”

“Vaguely. Enough to think she didn’t have as much use for them as I might. They’d just been sitting in a box in the house, and she was really glad the problem was fixed, so. She insisted. But Natori also insisted on paying her for them.” His mouth twists. “She didn’t love that, but I think he had a sense of how valuable they were, and didn’t want anyone trying to step in and claim I’d gotten them illegitimately. I like Yasuda-san and Tanaka-san—they were the clan members that went with us—and I really don’t think they’d do something like that, but I guess it’s better to be cautious.”

Kaname’s not sure how to feel about that. “That’d technically make them Natori’s then, right?”

Natsume huffs a short sigh. “I did try to make him take at least some of them, but he said they’d do me more good than him, that he’d feel better if I wore them at least some of the time. Also that his agent would kill him anyways if he showed up with holes in his ears. So he took me to get mine done, instead.” His hand’s inching upwards again, like he can’t decide if he wants to touch his ear or hide it from sight.

Kaname reaches across the table and intercepts his hand midair, lacing their fingers together in a move that’s objectively more awkward than suave, but it makes Natsume’s lips twitch nonetheless, and that feels like an achievement. “What’d the Fujiwaras say?” he asks.

“Well when I explained why I got it done, they were all for it, but.” Lips pursed, he looks equal parts embarrassed and affectionately exasperated. “I think it sort of amused them. Touko-san said it looked ‘very handsome’ and had me promise to clean them really well, and Shigeru-san cracked a few jokes about rock stars.”

“I mean—”

Natsume shoots him a withering look. “Don’t you start.”

Kaname agrees with Touko; can picture the barest hint of mischief touching the corners of her wide, delighted smile. “Will you get the other side done?” he asks. “If you’ve got six.”

He shrugs. “Natori said two at a time would be fine. And both sides seemed a bit…”

There’s a dozen different adjectives Kaname could fill in at the end of that sentence, none of them remotely close to what Natsume looks to be thinking. If he had showed up with both sides done, Kaname’s quite sure that his own reaction would’ve embarrassed them both.

“I did think—” Natsume starts, then seems to need a moment to rally himself before continuing. “If you wanted,” he begins again, looking rather more at some spot on Kaname’s cheek than at his eyes. “You could take some of them.”

“Oh.” It’s safe to say that’s not an offer Kaname had anticipated. “I’m not…I’m not an exorcist, though.”

“Neither am I,” Natsume counters, his fingernail tracing idly across the back of Kaname’s hand where their hands are still twined together across the tabletop. “Not really. And you are good at cleansings and banishings, anyways.”

“That’s…it’s kind of just a matter of showing up and remembering the words, but thank you.” He’d been practicing a bit of that at Dad’s suggestion and with his help, and had genuinely found the memorizing to be the most arduous part of it all; he’d taken to muttering the trickier, more unwieldy bits of sutra under his breath to practice while watering the plants or doing housework, most days.

“You’re good at it,” Natsume repeats. “I don’t want to make you feel like you’ve got to go and put holes in your ears if you don’t want to but I thought…” he trails off, looking uncertain.

“Thought what?”

He lets out a tight breath, then says, the words jumbling together a bit as though he’s afraid he’ll lose his nerve if he doesn’t get it out quickly, “I thought you could use them if you still wanted to come apprentice with the Matsuokas too.”

“I do.” He surprises himself with the immediate answer, but it crystallizes inside him even as he says it. “I will.”

Natsume’s eyes go round. “Really?”

“Really.”

Natsume smushes his lips together for a moment before speaking again, the taut look on his face suggesting there’s something before him now that he’s not sure he ought to hope for. “But…your dad—“

“I think Dad’s close to packing my bags himself if I don’t get out of here soon and go do something that doesn’t involve spreadsheets and invoices.” He feels himself smile. “I’d need to wait for the new school term, and don’t think I can do much to help out an exorcist clan, but…”

“You’ll do fine,” Natsume interjects, in a murmur. “I told you that.” And he had; as nerve-wracking as it is for Kaname to consider that he’d be literally blind to so many of the youkai the clan would be taking on, Natsume had said that he’d already met a handful of respected exorcists who worked for or alongside the Matsuokas whose sight for the supernatural was even less than Kaname’s. Some, even, with no sight whatsoever—who, like Dad, could compensate for that fact with knowledge and technique and become formidable in their own right. It’d been a comfort to know, but Kaname can’t say he’s not nervous about getting someone hurt because he couldn’t keep up, or excusing himself to go be sick behind a tree in the middle of some crucial binding or ritual because his body wouldn’t tolerate it.

Still.

“I want to go with you.” It’s out of his mouth before he can even find it in himself to be embarrassed about it. He’s staring at their hands, his own wrapped tightly around Natsume’s cool fingertips like he’ll find himself alone in the kitchen if he lets go.

Some of the creases in Natsume’s forehead soften. “That apartment’s too big for just me,” he says, with a tiny smile, looking down into his cup. “As long as you don’t get yourself eaten.” He pulls a slight grimace. “Or recruited.”

The first option’s more likely than the second, Kaname thinks but doesn’t say. “I won’t if you don’t,” he says instead.

“No chance of that.” Natsume taps the side of his cup with two fingers. “I think Sensei would rather eat me himself than consent to working for an exorcist. It puts him in a bad enough mood to be mistaken for a shiki as it is.”

Natsume had been very clear from the beginning, that his only reason for working with the Matsuokas was to learn to protect people, though Kaname also knows that means doing so without having to harm any ayakashi that ought to be left well enough alone. Kaname’s not sure why any of that has to be mutually exclusive from pursuing exorcism as a career path, but he’s certainly spent less time with exorcists and clan politics than Natsume has. And he can’t say he wouldn’t appreciate Natsume choosing a less dangerous day job.

“You’re sure?” Natsume’s asking him, now. His expression hasn’t changed much, but behind his eyes Kaname can see the years stacked upon years of learning to brace himself for rejection.

“I am."

***

They’re on the veranda now, legs hanging over the edge, the tips of Natsume’s socked toes not quite brushing the mossy carpet below. Heaped on the floorboards between them is what Kaname now realizes is probably an excessive amount of lavender: dried blooms in a glass jar, loose stems fastened with twine into bunches, yet more blooms rather poorly sewn into cotton sachets with simple blessings Dad had helped him write tucked inside. And finally, currently perched atop Natsume’s head where Kaname had placed it on a whim a moment ago, a carefully twisted wreath of pale purple and silvery green.

“You don’t have to use it all,” he tells Natsume, tapping lid of the jar. “Or take it all. It’s a lot.”

Natsume gives him a small sidelong grin, and with those slitted eyes catching and holding the afternoon sun as if it belongs to them, Kaname has to remind himself to breathe.

“Did you leave any for yourself?” Natsume asks wryly.

A soft snort. “Plenty. I had no idea they’d bloom so much this year, after how pitiful it was last year. I harvested most of them twice.”

Kaname’s got a literal dozen plants, the seeds a gift from one of Dad’s associates who’d gotten them on one of his frequent trips to a network of temples in Hokkaido. Kaname had sprouted them in egg cartons and had done his best with them, knowing that plants more suited to a milder climate far to the north would be finicky to say the least. It had taken two years to coax a decent harvest from them, and that had taken digging up a long strip of garden space to fill in with the sand and gravel they needed, and then painstakingly potting and repotting them all to move them between the flowerbed and a sunny storeroom he’d cleared out at the rear of the house when the weather grew too wet. Dad had joked that they’d bloomed so well this year because Kaname had spent so much time mumbling sutra while tending to them, but whatever the case it had been deeply satisfying to cut and hang the bunches of long fragrant stems up to dry when they’d been so scraggly the year before.

Natsume takes a sachet into his hands, holding it gently between his fingers up to his eye level. It turns a faint purple where the afternoon sun lights it from behind.

“I’m not sure it’ll do any actual good in protecting you,” Kaname says, watching him lightly touch his fingertip to the outline of the card where the blessing is inked. “Taki would be better for that. But it’ll make your pillowcases smell nice, at least.”

Natsume brings it up to his face, letting his eyes shutter as it covers his nose and mouth. “It smells like your room,” he says softly. He reaches up to where the wreath is settled in his hair. “This too.”

“Well I’ve got the one on the wall near my bed,” he says, certain he’s failing to sound casual when there’s that rare, unveiled softness in Natsume’s eyes. His tongue feels heavy and strange, and there’s a sensation like so many soda bubbles fizzing and popping in his chest, but he somehow manages to say, “The smell’s relaxing, so I like it there, but. You can put it anywhere you want. Sorry for not tying it so neatly.”

Natsume takes his hand off the wreath, sets it over Kaname’s, fingertips chilled from the refilled cup he’d carried with him. “It’s a good thing the apartment has a big veranda.”

Kaname chuckles, shakes his head. “Not big enough for a dozen large pots. Where would we hang the laundry?”

“We’ll fit them.” Natsume shrugs, tips his head back, looking utterly serene. “Won’t you want them for your tea?”

And that’s about when Kaname can’t take it anymore. He turns, cups Natsume’s face in both hands, and kisses his parted lips.

For the space of a breath, Natsume’s motionless against his mouth, but Kaname barely has the time to start to wonder if he’s done the wrong thing before he can feel the cool grip above his elbows, practically taste the featherlight sigh between lips that have opened wider to move with his own.

When they part, a long lightheaded moment later, Natsume’s reaching up towards his own hair, brows scrunching together, cheeks marvelously flushed under Kaname’s fingers. “Isn’t this poking you in the face?” He taps his makeshift crown.

“Yes,” Kaname says simply, leaning in to peck the very tip of Natsume’s nose.

Natsume bites down on a smile, not quite managing to look disapproving, and not moving to take it off, either. “All the flowers will fall off.”

I’ll make a better one, is what he means to say. What comes out of his mouth instead, entirely unbidden, is, “I missed you.” His voice snags oddly on the last word, and he swallows hard. A month and some change does not warrant falling to pieces on him, Kaname tells himself sternly, a handful of colorful nightmares notwithstanding. He’d made enough of a scene when he’d nearly tackled him at the door, hadn’t he. Still, he doesn’t trust himself to speak until Natsume does, his throat feeling suspiciously thick.

Natsume, for his part, looks a bit stricken, at first. And Kaname has the sudden thought that he’s grappling with the idea of being missed to such a degree in the first place. But the expression shifts soon enough into one of concern, and warmth.

“You won’t have to, for long,” he murmurs, after pulling Kaname back in for a gentle brush of lips across his cheekbone. “I won’t, either.” A lingering pause. Then, “…ah, sorry. That’s got to be stabbing you in the eye, right?”

Kaname blinks when Natsume abruptly pulls away, feeling muzzy and untethered and wanting very much for Natsume to be kissing him again until he realizes that Natsume’s gingerly lifting the wreath off his head. It catches on his hair despite his best efforts, enough to tug a few blossoms loose, and enough to knock aside those strands that have grown out just long enough to fall past his earlobes.

And Kaname couldn’t have pretended not to stare if his life depended on it.

His hand’s up, fingers outstretched before he even realizes. “Can I, um. It’s not going to hurt you or anything if I—”

“No. Go ahead.”

But Kaname’s only just touched the tip of his finger to the outermost hoop—the barest amount of pressure enough to make it lie flat against the bottom of Natsume’s earlobe—when Natsume sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, ducking his head out of Kaname’s reach.

Kaname snaps his hand back, distressed. “I’m sor—”

“No, it tickles.” Natsume straightens back up, rubbing at his ear with more vigor than he probably ought to whether it’s fully healed or not, leaving the metal gleaming against reddened skin.

Kaname raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

The glare Natsume shoots him is truly remarkable, though the effect is somewhat dampened by his mussed hair, the crumbly bits of lavender that have fallen onto his shoulders. Kaname throws his hands up, a picture of innocence, tucking this particular scrap of information away for a later date.

“For what it’s worth, though…” he starts, once he is well and truly sure that Natsume won’t try to scoot himself several meters down the porch and out of his reach; his arms are wrapped loosely around himself and he’s smiling again, though warily. But at that moment Kaname finds himself so thoroughly arrested with love that he couldn’t have launched the anticipated attack if he tried. “For what it’s worth. The earrings look good.”

#I didn't mention it in the fic but I need you all to know #Nishimura is absolutely thrilled by this development #'let me touch them' 'no'#natsume yuujinchou #natsume's book of friends #natsuyuu #tanunatsu #tanuma kaname #natsume takashi #owlet's fanfic #lizzyeleven #prompt fic #ask meme

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tardis-stowaway · 5 years

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Ten years after the Not-pocalypse, Adam Young, age 21 and recently graduated from university:

-Works in a crappy retail job and lives in a tiny, crappy flat in London

-The crappy flat has no sound insulation, so he’s always hearing the absurd amount of movement from the people in the flat above and the really loud but not quite intelligible conversations from the people in the flat next door. It’s a long way to the nearest public park, and he misses the green of home.

-Is not all that good at his customer service job, with the exception that if a customer is irrationally angry about something, he says he wants to make sure he understands the problem and repeats their complaint back to them with this look in his eyes, and they universally back down and often apologize. His coworkers love him for it. Everything else is just drudgery.

-Single, despite his best efforts. Okay, maybe not his best efforts, but some efforts.

-Knows that his childhood was uncommonly idyllic at least partly due to his powers. He’s not entirely sure how his life went quite so off the rails lately.

-Maybe his powers have faded gradually since he rejected his destiny, or maybe it’s just that on some level he absorbed the expectation that being in one’s early 20’s means being broke and a little lost, and the expectation made it happen whether he wanted it or not.

-Or maybe he just should’ve chosen a more employable course of study at uni instead of comparative religion. In his defense, it seemed relevant to his life.

-Spends much of his free time on climate crisis activism. He’ll be damned (ha) if he stood against the forces of Heaven and Hell, the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse, and his own birthright to preserve the continuing existence of humanity on the Earth only for humans to blunder into destroying themselves unintentionally through greed and shortsighted decisions.

-He’s been doing this since he was twelve, when Brian sent the Them’s group text an article about the group Extinction Rebellion with the caption “named for us?? :)” Adam had laughed, then actually read the article. Within a week he’d convinced the Them and a dozen of their classmates to show up at the next town council meeting with a list of sustainability demands.

-No matter how many civil disobedience events he takes part in, he never seems to get arrested. Adam suspects it’s his supernatural entity privilege. Pepper says it’s probably mostly that he’s white and great at charming his way out of trouble.

-He’s still friends with all of the Them, but they don’t live especially close together. He does have a flatmate, an American who Adam met at uni.

-At this point you, a genre-savvy reader of much Good Omens fic and meta, are probably seeing the word “American” and thinking that Adam is flatmates with Warlock Dowling. For once, you are wrong.

-Adam’s flatmate is Jesus.

-Not Jesus Christ, but a young man named Jesus Dominguez, pronounced the Spanish way (like hay-soos).

-Jesus is from Southern California, and he talks more than a little bit like a surfer stereotype. He’s got warm brown skin, shoulder-length dark hair in perpetually-mussed waves, and a little beard. He’s kinda leaning into the look to mess with people, but it’s also the same style found on at least a third of the other male-presenting hipsters in London.

-When he learned that he was going to share a flat with someone named Jesus, Adam called Crowley and Aziraphale. He’s never been gladder that he stayed in touch with them, because he NEEDED someone who understood how the Antichrist and Jesus sharing a flat sounded like the setup for a joke or a sitcom. Crowley did indeed laugh out loud, then told Adam that as a fellow lapsed member of the forces of Hell, he could personally recommend sharing quarters with a heavenly adversary. Aziraphale just muttered “oh, stop” at Crowley.

-Adam moved to London because it was easier to get to the important protests there, and because he was curious. He spent the first six months desperately homesick for Tadfield. The city was so crowded but somehow he still felt so alone, other than Jesus.

-Then a midnight fire-alarm in their building sent him and Jesus into the streets along with dozens of their neighbors. Adam finally met the people in the flat above theirs who made all that moving around noise. They were an older couple who took ballroom dancing lessons at the senior center and liked to practice at home. Mrs. Kapoor tried to teach Adam how to foxtrot right there on the pavement in the middle of the night. He stepped on her feet, but since he was in bare feet and she’d actually taken the time to find shoes it wasn’t a big deal.

-Meanwhile Jesus was finally talking to the loud young men from next door. By the time Adam wandered over, Jesus had learned their names (Leon, Seamus, and Nazim) and secured an invitation for the two of them to come over to watch Saturday’s football match, and to join their next D&D campaign (“just no more paladins,” said Nazim). Adam looked forward to finding out whether it was the D&D or the football that was the cause of more yelling.

-As the evacuation stretched on with no hint of either actual fire or clearance to go back inside, the building’s children began to get fussy. Adam found a coin on the ground (successfully picking it up, because Crowley didn’t make it to this neighborhood very often) and proceeded to distract them with stage magic.

-He initially learned stage magic from Aziraphale, but he’s better at it than the angel ever was. He hardly cheats physical reality at all. The kids love it.

-When the fire department finally gives them the clearance to go back inside, Adam’s stomach rumbles. “Is anyone else hungry?,” he asks, to a chorus of agreement. It’s too late for any nearby takeout, but Jesus chats with their neighbors about options.

-Jesus enlists Adam’s help in going from flat to flat gathering ingredients from everyone, and before long they’re serving fish tacos and grilled cheese sandwiches to a small crowd of pajama-clad people. It’s 2 am, but everyone is smiling, or at least has contentment at the edge of their yawns.

-The next day, Mrs. Kapoor brings Adam and Jesus a spider plant cutting, because she thought their flat looked too bare. Adam texts a picture of it to Crowley and receives back lengthy instructions on watering, pot size, soil, and the most effective threats for the species.

-Five months later, the local planning council has an intense debate about why crime rates in one neighborhood have dropped by 75% since their last meeting. They each try to claim credit for their pet civic projects. Actually, it’s because Adam Young has started to love London, or at least his nook of it.

-Buskers soon realize that certain tube stops are generating far more tips than they ever have before, with no obvious demographic shift accounting for the change. The common ground is that these are the stops on Adam’s commutes to work and his activist meetings. He can only occasionally spare a tip himself, but his enjoyment of the music is contagious.

-Even after the breakthrough, not every day is good. On a late summer day that just happens to be the anniversary of the day the world didn’t end, Adam comes home from a protest fuming.

-“Dude, you okay?” asks Jesus, looking up from his guitar. (Jesus sometimes goes to protests with Adam, but not usually the ones where they’re planning on breaking laws. “I’m a brown-skinned foreigner, man. Do you think I’ll get away with what you get away with? I’m not ready for that yet,” he says, and Adam can’t argue.)

-“The media barely showed up at our event, probably because it was about a million degrees and even though that’s exactly what we’re protesting, nobody wants to be out in it. Six of our people passed out from the heat and three got arrested. They still didn’t arrest me, but I got pushed over and cracked my phone screen. On my way home, some drunk on the tube vomited on my shoes. Our green jobs bill still doesn’t have the votes in Parliament, and have you seen the latest news on the Antarctic ice sheets?” Adam kicks off his shoes, then collapses dramatically onto the futon and groans.

-“Sounds rough,” says Jesus.

-“I should’ve just ended the damn world when I was eleven and I had the chance. Would’ve been quicker,” Adam mutters.

-Jesus gets up and goes to the kitchen. He brings Adam a beer. “You don’t mean that, bro,” he says.

-Adam sighs, accepting the beer. “I suppose not.”

-He drinks his beer. Dog, now grey-muzzled and slow, shuffles over to curl up at his feet. Adam pulls out his phone, which is cracked but still seems functional. He’s got a text from Aziraphale.

-“Dear Adam,” the text begins, because Aziraphale might have finally deigned to learn to text but he steadfastly refused to adopt its stylistic conventions, “I hope that you have returned safely from today’s protest. I’m very proud of your continuing efforts, and though he won’t admit it I know that Crowley feels the same. Please write back at your earliest convenience. Fondly, Aziraphale”

-Adam texts back to reassure the angel, who will doubtless pass it on to Crowley, then he texts similar reassurances to his parents and to Mrs. Kapoor upstairs. He’s still figuring out this adulthood thing, but he’s got a lot of parental figures looking out for him. His Infernal Bio-Dad isn’t one of them, and that’s the way Adam likes it.

-Through the open window comes the sound of music blasting from a car stuck in traffic below. Freddie Mercury and David Bowie are singing:

And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night, And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves.

-He turned down the chance to rule the world, and he’d make the same choice again, but he still feels a certain proprietary responsibility towards the planet and its inhabitants. His father—his real, earthly father—didn’t raise him to shirk responsibility, and he’s not one to cave under pressure.

-Life is hard, people are mostly idiots, and the world is coming apart at the seams, but it’s his messed up life and his idiotic people and his beautiful, half-broken world.

#good omens #adam young #good omens headcanons #fanfic #post-canon #please excuse any errors and americanisms #long post #tardis-stowaway's writing & stuff

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drivingsideways · 4 years

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Based on this excellent post and tags by @frankdelfino, and thanks to @rain-hat yelling in the chat window for twenty minutes, here’s a not-fic outline in the universe where Jo Yeong and Jo Eun-seop are actually brothers.

So here's how this goes. This is RoK verse, monarchies are passé, thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

- Jo Yeong and Eun-seop grow up middle class, and look like peas in a pod, have completely opposing personalities and can generally be trusted to get up to the WORST POSSIBLE SHENANIGANS ever known to a pair of long-suffering parents who've had the temerity to have not one, but two sets of twins. Anyways, Eun-seop is absolutely the one GETTING them into the shenanigans, and Yeong is the one getting them OUT of it, despite the fact that Eun-seop is older by 4 minutes

-Eun-seop loses a year at school when he gets into an accident at 14; a drunk driver, a bicycle, and Yeong just a little too far away to do anything but call the ambulance and hold his brother's hand right until they force him to let go as they rush Eun-seop into surgery. He holds it again, once he's wheeled out, and right upto when he wakes up so he doesn't wake up alone (he hasn't gone home in 48hrs, I'm fine, thanks eomma, you should go home to the babies, they'll be scared without you.). Anyways, Eun-seop wakes up, demands to know whether he'll have a cool scar from the surgery (before he demands to know whether he will be able to walk again) and Yeong's like you're never going to be as cool as me, now shut up and sip this water slowly. Eun-seop recovers, and Yeong's there through every single physio session and taking extra notes in class, and recording videos surreptitiously, so Eun-seop can see how all their classmates are faring and also failing at everything, now that they're in first year of high school. (Yeong would have stayed back a year at school, but Eun-seop forbids it, and uses his Oppa-pass, which he only uses when he's really serious about something, so Yeong has to listen)

- Eun-seop notices that some of his videos begin to feature a rather weird looking dude, who can be seen hanging out with this one girl. Eun-seop knows Tae-eul noona, her dad runs that taekwondo academy two blocks away, right? And there was that one time when Eun-seop was being bullied and Yeong wasn't there that day, and noona had stepped in and scared those assholes away. Anyways, so yeah, he also remembers that there was this other guy with her, who'd also clearly been ready to throw down, if those goobers had put up a fight, but later, he just grabbed noona's hands, checked for injuries, and given Eun-seop some candy that he got out from his bag.

Anyways, so Eun-seop is like why do you have pictures of Tae-eul noona and her weird boyfriend, and Yeong snatches the phone away and mutters, THEY'RE JUST GOOD FRIENDS, in all caps as though he knows anything about life or girls.

Oh my god, Yeongie, he says, you know she's way out of your league right? She's a senior? And like would absolutely beat you to shit, wouldn't need her weirdo bf to do it either-

HE'S NOT HER BOYFRIEND, Yeong says, loudly this time, as loud as the time when Eun-seop had replaced his hair cream with toothpaste and Eun-seop quickly recalibrates and gets it right this time, and he says, hushed, Yeongie, my Yeongie, did you manage to fall for the one dude who'd give you a run for your money in "the person most likely to end up a serial killer" stakes?

He starts cackling so hard that his ribs start to hurt, and then his back, and Yeong (who's run away – RUN AWAY) doesn't come back to help him up. It's alright, Eun-seop will live, and also, he's gonna help his Yeongie get his guy, even if Eun-seop cannot see the attraction, and he thinks this isn’t going to work for many reasons, only one of which is that CLEARLY this dude- Kang Sin Jae, he remembers now- is in love with Tae-eul noona, which, props, anyone might see she absolutely kicks ass.

But the point is, the Jos are fighters, and he's damned if he's going to let Yeong slink away from this one.

The next time he sees Yeongie- two hours later- they all have a bedtime in the Jo house, ok- he's like, fine, I'm sorry, and I KNOW YOU DON'T HAVE A SINGLE USEFUL THOUGHT IN YOUR HEAD, so I got this for you, ok? What do you know about him?

Turns out, Yeongie has a whole folder on him.

Eun-seop's proud of his little stalker baby brother.

Anyways, that's how Yeong learns enough about sound systems so he can turn up for the post when the school band that Kang Sin Jae plays bass guitar for advertises for a sound engineer.

He turns up for the "interview" in his neat trousers, and button-down shirt and Sin Jae says, uh, are you Jo Eun-seop's non-identical twin? Aren't you just a freshman, do you really- and Yeong says, quietly, confidently, I can solve that problem you're having when you play your arrangement of The Wizard and Sin Jae stares at him and mutters, but can you do anything about how only three people turn up to listen, and Yeong tilts his head, and says maybe? Also, Eun-seop and I are identical, just fyi.

Anyways, yeah he fixes the faulty wiring in the speakers at the auditorium, and also gets more than three people to turn up (so what if it's all a bunch of scared looking freshmen? They've all been paid more than enough to bang their heads in time to the music and cheer later.)

But he never does ask Sin Jae out, that entire year, even though these days, Sin Jae smiles when he sees him, and puts an arm around his shoulder sometimes, after a practice, what are you waiting for, Yeongie, did I raise you to be this much of a coward? Eun-seop wails, but Yeong is like, Sin-Jae-ssi would feel awkward at having to refuse me if I did, and he needs a sound engineer more than a boyfriend, and that's fine.

(He needs at least three shirts more, a hair-cut and perhaps better taste in music, Eun-seop thinks, but doesn't say, because he knows Yeongie's fragile like that. Yeongie can take anything anybody says about him, personally, and will brush it off or dole out appropriate punishment, but if someone comes after someone he loves, he'll break the knees of the person and leave them for dead in a ditch. And obviously, he can't do that with Eun-seop, so Eun-seop doesn't say anything, he's a good elder brother.)

- Sin-jae and Tae-eul noona graduate and both of them go off to KNPU, and Eun-seop says, listen, nobody does that if they're not dating, at least. IF NOT ACTUALLY ILLEGALLY MARRIED. Yeongie, please, for the love of god, find a boy who's available. See, here's a list.

But Yeong just shrugs, and says, let me see your homework (because Eun-seop's back in school now) and then proceeds to put red slashes through everything and says, "apply your brains Eun-seop, don't act dumb when you're not". THE AUDACITY.

Yeong never dates anyone through high school, Eun-seop dates a different person every month.

- So Eun-seop is never going to have to serve in active military duty, because of his accident, but Yeong will have to. He's fine with that, and he'd rather do it in these two years, just after school, because that way, it's only really one year when Eun-seop will be at college before him, and that's fair, it evens out Yeong's having to graduate from school first.

-So off he goes, and there he meets Lee Ji-hun, who's an ass, Eun-seop clocks that straight away, born into some goddamn chaeobol family, but for some reason drawn to actual military service, because he has a hero complex. The only good thing he has going for him, as far as Eun-seop can tell, his that he took one look at Yeongie and decided that he was the best boy in the whole universe, and that shows good taste, Eun-seop will be polite to him, fine.

- Of course, the other thing that happens in those two years is that Yeongie gets brainwashed into joining the Navy- it's not brainwashing, Yeong tries to tell him, I get to protect the people I love, the country I love. And of course, Lee Ji-hun, fucking asshole, is just sitting there, nodding along as though any of this was fucking REASONABLE. You could DIE, Eun-seop yells, DO YOU REALIZE THAT. WE'RE STILL AT FUCKING WAR.

Yes, says his stepford-wife brother, womb-sharer, soulmate, exactly.

- Anyways, off Yeong and Jihun go to join not just the Navy, which would be bad enough, but the ROKSWF, that's insane, they're going to die, and what can Eun-seop do then but go join the NIS and immediately get picked for North Korean Affairs by an astute senior officer who listens to Eun-seop goofing around in the canteen on the orientation day and still get everyone to give him their portion of the only decent thing on the menu- the crème brulee- and says, I'm taking that one.

- It's a lot of paperwork and dull as ditches monitoring work at the start, and that's ok, Eun-seop can live with that, it means he gets time with the other twins, who are at a fun age. And that's how Tae-eul noona and Kang Sin Jae re-enter their lives because Eun-bi and Kka-bi are learning taekwondo from Tae-eul's dad. This is also how Eun-seop meets the love of his life and future wife Myeong Na-Ri, and it's ok if she doesn't know it yet, at least Yeongie is not here to see him turn into a complete doofus everytime Na-Ri so much as breathes in his direction.

- Yeongie and Jihun come back on shore leave (AFTER TWO GODDAMN YEARS) and that's when Ji-hun meets Tae-eul and falls like a ton of bricks for her; she manages to keep her sense of balance and also life in order, thanks, she's not going to fall for some floppy haired dude (his hair grows really fast out of its crew cut) who thinks that parallel universes are a thing, even if he has extremely long legs.

Meanwhile Kang Sin Jae has also cleaned up nice, Eun-seop will admit, and he's-he's a genuinely nice dude, ok, even if a bit brusque, and when Eun-seop finds out about eomeonim's gambling problems and that whole story, he's willing to admit that he may have been a tad harsh on Kang Sin-Jae way back when.

Anyways, that's the past, right, Yeongie, I can't imagine what a bunch of men locked in a submarine can possibly do except have orgies, please tell me that's what you've been doing? Please?

"Shut up" hisses Yeong, and then practically jumps out of his chair when Tae-eul noona and Sin Jae come over to their table at Na-ri's coffee shop. Yeong's in his uniform- he was on his way back from some conference thing he'd had to go to despite his leave- so that was the saving grace, because Eun-seop sees the subtle double-take Kang Sin Jae does, because let's face it, his baby brother is the most beautiful, it's true, but then Yeongie is also red in the face and says "toffee" instead of "coffee" as in "Won't you get some toffee, Sin Jae-ssi?" and Sin Jae gives him a blank look while he decodes that, (gay panic, Eun-seop wants to tell him, my brother is a panicked gay, go easy on him), and finally says, uh, I don't think they have that flavor here?

- God, Eun-seop says later, I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU, BABY BROTHER. HAVE YOU BEEN IN LOVE WITH THE SAME BOY FROM HIGH SCHOOL? ARE YOU STILL A VIRGIN? (AFFIRMATIVE ON BOTH) and Eun-Seop has FAILED, FAILED, FAILED. Alright, he says, taking a deep breath, how long do you have?

Two weeks, says his stupid fucking brother, and so Eun-seop has to go into EMERGENCY-FUCKING-MODE because he may have to DIE getting it to happen, but his baby brother is GOING TO GET LAID, AND BY THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE, EVERYONE'S FIRST TIME NEEDS TO BE SPECIAL OK, Ji-hun? Ji-hun nods, very seriously, and proceeds to describe his extremely un-special first time, and Eun-seop is like, wow, you probably don't know this, because you've got that puppy face that make people not want to hurt you, but every single woman you've ever slept with has faked an orgasm with you. Well, that discussion gets pretty heated, of course, and also comes to an abrupt end when Tae-eul noona pops in- she's come by to ask if they all wanna hang out and watch a movie this weekend- and look, noona's GREAT, and obviously the first person he needs on his ally list as soon as he makes sure she's not really in love with Sin Jae, because that would be bad.

"Hyungnim?" she says, surprised, when he asks, because Eun-seop knows the best way to get noona to answer anything is to play no games, and she says, "No, why?" and then, suspiciously, "Did that rat Jihun put you up to this?" And he says, absent mindedly, no I was asking 'cause Yeong, and noona yelps, "Jo Yeong can't be in love with me, shit!" and Eun-seop says, what, why, and that's how he finds out that hey, Kang Sin Jae may also have been a little into his idiot brother from way back when. "He was too young" Tae-eul noon confides, "Sin Jae didn't feel right about it, especially when he was graduating that year" and honestly, THIS IS THE SADDEST STORY EUN-SEOP HAS EVER HEARD AND HE'S WATCHED TITANIC FORTY TIMES AND CRIED EACH TIME OK?

- RIGHT. So maybe Eun-Seop and Tae-eul manage to get their idiot friend and brother a little push in the right direction. Well, noona basically goes to Sin Jae and says, for fucks sake, ask the poor boy out, I heard he's still a virgin for you. And Sin Jae goes red in the face, and then green, because omg the PRESSURE, and then red again, and then ultimately does find Yeong one day at the coffee shop alone, as Eun-seop had assured him he would be - (Diligently reading some book? A recipe book? Italian recipes? Sin Jae may have mentioned one day that his favourite cuisine was Italian?)- and there's some part of him that melts, like the cheese on the cover of that recipe book, and he's like, uh, do you, maybe, and then rushed, I know this great Italian place, if you like, and yes, Jo Yeong would like very much.

- Jo Yeong returns to Jinhae Naval Command very much not a virgin, and Jihun returns still single, but undaunted by the task ahead of him; don't worry, Yeong-ah, he says, confidently, I'll wear her down, even if it takes me years, and Yeong knows Jihun, he knows how much of a barnacle he can be, and also it wouldn't be nice of him to shit on other people's happiness just when he's found his own, so he nods and says, yes, of course, and even listens to Jihun rhapsodize about Tae-eul noona's everything for about two hours straight. He texts Eun-seop at the half-way mark- kill me now, please-and Eun-seop is like, what's North Korea there for, then, I told you to dump his ass in the sea. But of course he won't, Jihun and he are ride or die, and it turns out dying is more likely in this case, because right about that time is when North Korea decides that it needs to remind the world that yes, they exist, and yes, the men that rule them are crazy fucks.

- What happens is this: Koo Seo-Ryeong is a brilliant pianist, who's one of the few DPRK citizens who's let out to see the world has disappeared with her mother and sister, while she was on tour in Australia. And look, she did it in Australia, it has nothing to do with RoK, except that Kim Jong-un has decided that it has, because her (estranged) father happened to be one of the top honchos in DPRK military brass, and this was all clearly a conspiracy hatched across the border to get at him and the military secrets he knows.

- Eun-seop is there when the news comes in that there's a Sang-o class submarine in the waters at Jeongdongjin, and he's also there when it turns out, that yes, hello, they were trying to get the Koo family out, and he's also the one that gets a single line text from an unknown number that's the code he made Yeongie swear on everything they held dear that he would send if he was going behind enemy lines. Shit. Shit.Shit.

- OK, I confess, I don't know how this next part goes, reader, because I am not John Le Carre or whoever, and this is still NOT-FIC, BUT SPY THINGS HAPPEN and at the end of the day, Eun-Seop has to choose between saving his brother and letting the Koo family back into the hellhole they'd just managed to extract themselves from, and listen, noona made him listen to Koo Seo-Ryeong's playing ok, and there's- even if she were a shitty musician, even if she were just some rat bastard politician or a fisherwoman- he knows he can't make a choice that is sending her back to her death, and the deaths of everyone she loves. And if he did, and if he did, just to save his womb-brother, his true love, his soulmate, his blood and bone and heart- why, he knows that Yeong would never forgive him, Oppa-pass or no. So he's gotta rescue Yeongie and save the Koo family AND STOP WORLD WAR THREE, good thing he's totally up to the task.

- MORE SPY THINGS HAPPEN AND HE SAVES THE DAY, OK.

- He does, and so this time he gets to be the rescuer, and honestly, this was a big one, and it totally evens out all the 15 million times in their entire lives that Yeong had rescued him, what does Yeongie think? Yeongie thinks he should shut up and let him sleep, and because he's a good oppa, the best oppa, Eun-seop curls around his baby brother in their too narrow bunk bed, just like they did when they were sixteen or ten or five or in the womb, and goes to sleep too.

#the king eternal monarch #blood brothers and soulmates ftw #jo yeong #jo eun-seop

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Stupid For You, Chapter 1 (Crygi/Jankie/Jaida x Nicky) - Metaluna

A/N: Hi, everyone! I’ve been having horrific writer’s block for Wasteland, Baby and along the way started writing this! It’s a nice change of pace from writing about the end of the world!

Summary: It’s the summer before Gigi goes to college, and she decides it’s time to take a job at a local amusement park. There, she meets Crystal, a beautiful girl that she with bonds over the anxiety of the service industry. Almost immediately, Gigi gets it BAD for Crystal. Meanwhile, Jackie definitely ISN’T gay. She likes men. Only. Men. What happens when a beautiful girl named Jan comes into the picture? And lastly, Nicky flirts with anything with a pulse. Jaida falls for anyone who gives her attention. This is going to be one interesting summer.

Working at an amusement park the summer before college seemed like such a cliché. But, Gigi needed money, and a job was a job. It was either that, or working in a cafeteria at a performing arts camp, and she wasn’t about to serve chicken nuggets to obnoxious theatre kids all day. Between the two, she figured that working at Paradise Isle would be a much better first job.

It wasn’t all bad. At least she got to pick what job she wanted. As someone with immense anxiety, the thought of lifeguarding or working rides was out of the question. After hearing horror stories about working custodial and foods from her older sister, she’d settled on sales. Mainly because it was the only thing left to choose from, besides games, but Gigi knew she didn’t have the personality to get people to waste their money on games that were probably impossible to win.

The night before, Gigi barely slept. She was so nervous about her first job. She looked in the mirror at her tired eyes. While lying awake in bed, she went back in forth in her head on whether or not she should wear makeup, and if she did how much. After looking at herself, she decided a full face was in order.

After finishing her makeup, she made her way to her closet. Five identical outfits hung next to each other. They were absolutely hideous. No matter how good her makeup skills were, she was going to look ridiculous. The polyester shirt looked like one that the uncle that nobody likes would wear to the family reunion. It was a blue polyester polo shirt that was an obnoxious shade of light blue with palm trees on it. In the corner, it had the logo of the park. The polo did not fit Gigi well, and made her slender frame look like a box. To complete the outfit, the shorts were the same loud color as the collar of the polo. Just like the shirt, the shorts were too big. She tied her belt tightly around her, but she could fit both legs into one leg hole.

The finishing touch was her name badge. It featured an extremely unflattering photo, Gigi was pretty sure she was about to blink in it. Across the bottom it said GEORGIANA GOODE, SALES. The only people who called her by her full name were her grandparents, and her mom the time she had found her daughter sneaking back into the house one night after a party.

Gigi laid out the map with directions on her center console. She knew where the park was, she and her sister grew up going ever summer, but the employee areas were a mystery to her. Considering that she had a horrible sense of direction, she wanted to give herself extra time for when she inevitably got lost.

Eventually, she found her way. She was incredibly thankful that she only had a short walk to the HR office, because that means there was no possible way she could get lost. Once she was inside of the office, a receptionist instructed her to go into the conference room. There were two rows of chairs set up. The chairs looked cold and uncomfortable, the kind that would be found in a grade school classroom. There was an empty chair next to a girl with black hair and brown eyes in the back row.

“Is this seat taken?”

The girl gestured for her to sit.

“I’m Gigi.”

“Jackie.”

“Nice to meet you, Jackie. What’s your job going to be?”

“Rides. You?”

“Sales.”

“Is this your first summer at good ol’ Paradise Isle?”

“Yeah, it is. How about you?”

“No. This is year three for me.”

Gigi raised her eyebrows. “So you like it here?”

“Oh, hell no. This place sucks. But, I get a lot of hours and can save money for when I’m at college. That’s what’s keeps most of us here.” Jackie saw Gigi’s nervous expression. “So, the work here is terrible. But, you will meet some of the best people you will find here. There’s nothing like bonding with a group of people over getting yelled at things that are vastly above your pay grade.”

“Jackie!” a voice called. A tall, statuesque girl sat on Jackie’s other side.

“Gigi, this is Jaida. Jaida, this is Gigi. Gigi’s fresh blood. She’s going to be joining you in sales.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jaida began. “Listen. I don’t what all my girl Jackie has told you, but this place kinda sucks. But, the people are great.”

“Yeah she mentioned that. Why does this place suck so much?”

“Literally everything,” a voice chimed in. “Get ready to spend all day in the heat getting yelled at about things that aren’t your fault, and management that never has any idea what the hell is going on. It’s hell. I’m Heidi by the way.”

Before the meeting began, Gigi became acclimated with the others in the room with her. She learned Heidi was also returning to games. There was girl who was also new, named Widow who was going to games. Gigi met a girl with a French accent named Nicky who was hired in rides.

“Brita!” all of the returning workers squealed as a very tall girl entered the room.

“Girls, this is Brita. She is an icon. That’s all you need to know.”

“Jaida, you’re too kind,” Brita said, grasping to imaginary pearls. She continued exchanging pleasantries with all of the veteran workers.

A bubbly looking blonde enthusiastically made her way into the room, and dramatically plopped next to Gigi.

“Hi, there! I’m Jan. It’s my first year. I’m going to be in sales!” With the confidence that Jan had walking into the room, Gigi was surprised that it was Jan’s first summer, too.

“Me, too!”

Jackie awkwardly introduced herself. “Hi. I’m um. I’m Jackie.”

“Hi! Oh my gosh this, is so exciting. I’m just really happy to be here!”

“You won’t be after today,” Brita warned. Jan frowned.

“Don’t scare the poor girl. We all remember our first summer. We were so full of hope… before we were dead inside,” Jaida laughed.

“One last seat. Who’s gonna fill it?” Brita’s voice was full fake wonderment.

Just as she questioned it, a girl nervously made her way through the door. She had red hair, but Gigi could tell it was dyed. Gigi was surprised the girl got away with it, considering upon getting hired, she had to hire a contract to keep a natural looking appearance. Even though she didn’t think it was possible, this girl looked like she had more makeup on than Gigi did. The girl nervously sat down in the last seat available, the one right in front of Gigi.

“Hi,” Gigi began. “I’m Gigi. Is this your first summer?”

The girl smiled. “Yes! It is! I’m Crystal. I’m games, how about you?”

“Sales.”

Crystal and Gigi got to know each other better. They both had just graduated high school. Crystal had attended Gigi’s rival high school. They had playful banter about the rivalry. It turned out they were both going to attend the same university in the fall. They had just started talking about their majors when a woman entered.

“Hello there, welcome! My name is Michelle Visage, owner of Paradise Isle. I take great pride in this park, as it has been in my family for three generations. I think that this summer is going to be one for the books. We’ve got so many new hires, as well as a lot of familiar faces.”

Gigi zoned out as Michelle went on more about the mission statement of the park. The rest of the orientation was a blur. There were some safety videos, as well as some videos that were borderline propganda showing how great of a workplace it was. In one of the videos, Gigi spotted her sister in the background and smiled.

Once all of the videos were over, Michelle said, “Alright. Trainers, once you find your trainees, take them on a tour. Give them a rundown of the area, and what they’re going to be doing. You all have your training guides so you know what to cover. And again, to all our new hires, welcome!”

“See ya around,” Crystal said as she got up to join the Heidi and Widow.

Brita and Jaida got up and stood next to Gigi and Jan.

“Looks like you’re with us. Welcome to hell,” Brtta said with an overdramatic evil laugh.

“Don’t scare the poor girls! So, I’m going to be training you. The management apparently got really drunk together and decided it would be a good idea to make this one,” she motioned to Brita, “a trainer. That’s why there’s two of us. She’s shadowing me. How do you guys feel about… everything?”

Jan’s smiled so widely it appeared to take up most of her face. “I’m so excited! I used to spend all my summers here with my friends, so it’s kind of full circle to work here this summer.”

“I love the enthusiasm,” Jaida said. “How about you, Gigi, how are you feeling?”

“Honestly? Nervous.”

“Chile, is this your first job?” She nodded. “Jan?” Jan also nodded.

Jaida comfortingly put her hand on Gigi’s back. “As much shit as we talk about this place, it’s not all bad. You saw how close all of us are. We really are a big family here. Oh, and, between this and serving food to theatre kids all day? This is definitely better.”

“What’s wrong with theatre kids? I’m a theatre kid!” Jan whined.

“As a fellow theatre kid,” Brita began. “Everything.”

The trainers walked the trainees to the front of the park. Even though Gigi had spent just as much time as Jan, if not more, in the park with her sister growing up, the entire park felt different. The operating season wasn’t going starting for three more days. Because of this, the entire park was eerily quiet, which was a stark contrast to the loud music and screaming children that normally filled the air.

“Jan, I know you said you used to come here a lot how about you, Gigi?” Brita questioned.

“Oh I used to come here a ton with my older sister. She actually spent her summers between college working here. She did rides, but since she’s five years older than me.“

While on the tour, the four girls got to know each other better. Gigi learned that Jaida was studying political science, and that it was the summer before her senior year, meaning it would be her last year at the park. Brtta was going into her junior year. Jan and Brita realized that they were in the same musical theatre program at the same university.

“What are you going to study, Gigi?” Jan asked.

“Fashion design. My parents wanted me to have something to fall back on, so I’m double majoring in public relations, too.”

“Wow, I could never. I’m just ready to sing and dance my way through college.”

“Turn here,” Jaida instructed, leading them into the staff entrance of one of the shops.

Once inside, Gigi was surprised that the store already was completely set up. The shirts were neatly folded on tables, and absolutely nothing was out of place.

“This is the only time it’s going to look this nice,” Brita said taking a seat on the floor which caused everyone to follow suit.

Brita explained to Jan and Gigi that there were three stores that they could work at. One was the main store that they were standing in. The second store was a candy shop that sold caramel apples. Lastly, there was the shop where guests could buy their overpriced ride photos. She then went on to explain that at nighttime, there were also carts that sold products that glowed.

The group then went over to one of the registers. Brita took her time explaining how the POS worked, answering any questions along the way, making sure to reiterate that in order to use a season pass discount, they had to show a photo ID. Gigi thought that it seemed easy enough. Both Jan and Gigi got to practice ringing up fake transactions.

“Now let’s have some practice. We’re going to roleplay . Jan you’re going first,” Jaida said picking up a shopping basket. She went through the store and haphazardly threw objects into her basket. She came up to the counter.

Brita and Gigi took a step behind Jan as Jaida walked up to the counter.

“Hi! How’s your day in the park going?” Jan asked.

“It would be going better, if it wasn’t so busy, and everything wasn’t so freakin’ expensive! My babies are both crying in their stroller, and my husband and I haven’t stopped fighting!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that, ma’am! I hope that your day gets better soon. Oh my gosh, this shirt is so cute it’ll totally bring out your eyes. This is one of my favorites that we have. Your total is going to be 25 dollars.”

“Oh, I have a season pass, so that means I get a discount, right?”

“Yes! You’ll save twenty percent today. Can I just see your ID with that, please?”

“I don’t have it with me. It’s in the stroller with my worthless husband and my babies.”

“Unfortunately, you need to have one in order to receive the discount.”

“That’s bullshit. I literally just got my discount and no one asked for my ID.”

“I understand that sometimes my fellow hosts don’t follow the rules, but unfortunately, both of us can get in trouble if I give you the discount, and I don’t really think that getting in trouble is worth five dollars, do you?”

Jaida crossed her arms. “I suppose not.”

Brita clapped. “Good job, Jan!”

“You’re a natural!”

Jan took a fake bow. Brita and Jaida switched positions. Gigi nervously made her way to the register.

Gigi’s heart was beating fast, even though she knew it was just a roleplay. “Hi.”

Brita raised an eyebrow, and with a pleasant tone said, “Hi! How’s it going?”

“Good.”

Silence. Gigi had no idea what to say or what to do.

“Uhh. Are you having a good day today?”

She sighed. “I’m really trying to, but The Jinn’s broken. That really stinks because my little Abby is finally tall enough to ride, and she was really looking forward to it.”

“Oh uhh. Sorry. Do you a season pass?”

“What?”

“For the discount?”

“Oh! Yeah, here you go.” Brita flashed Gigi a pass.

Without thinking, Gigi applied the discount.

“Pause,” Jaida said. “Gigi, you’re a little stiff… But don’t worry about that, it’ll come with time. But you forgot something really important.”

“Shit. I forgot to ask for an ID.”

“And that’s okay,” she said. “Just make sure you don’t forget. The management will let it slide for a while but that’s a fireable offense, so just always keep that in mind. But overall, nice job, you rang up everything perfectly.”

After a few more roleplay scenarios, Gigi began to feel more comfortable. She was still stiff, but at least she talked more. Still, she was envious of Jan, and how natural it all came to her.

Halfway through the day, it was time for lunch. Jaida and Brita guided the new trainees into the breakroom. Gigi didn’t know what to expect, but she didn’t expect every staff member area to be as dingy and decrepit as it was. The rest of the park was impeccably clean, and she’d assumed that the staff areas would be, as well.

Once they clocked out for their lunch, Gigi heard her name being called. It was Crystal.

“Come sit!”

Gigi made her way to the cold metal table. The chair was extremely uncomfortable, but she it just felt nice to sit.

“How’s it going?” Gigi asked.

“It’s… going! I’m glad we get more practice. I’m… a little overwhelmed.” Crystal almost looked like she was going to cry.

“Let’s walk,” Gigi took Crystal’s hand. “What’s up?”

They took a seat at one of the outdoor picnic tables. No one else was outside, because they were too busy taking advantage of the air conditioning.

Crystal started tearing up. “I’m just overwhelmed. It’s a lot of information and I feel like Widow is understanding it a lot faster than I am.”

“First off,” Gigi began. “It’s your first day, you aren’t going to be perfect. Second, stop crying. Your makeup is way too pretty for that.”

Crystal smiled. “You think my makeup’s pretty?”

“I think you’re all pretty.”

“Awe, I think you’re gorgeous.” Crystal took Gigi’s hands. “Thank you. For calming me down.”

“Anytime. Also don’t beat yourself up. I’m super overwhelmed, too. During training, I did something that would normally get me fired.”

Crystal laughed. “You’re doing amazing sweetie.”

Gigi and Crystal resumed their conversation from earlier. She learned that Crystal was going to study graphic design. They were both excited to move out of their hometowns and to start their lives. Halfway through their conversation, Gigi realized just how pretty Crystal was, and how nicely her hair flowed past her shoulders. And how funny she was, and how nice she smelled. How soft her lips looked… Shit. It was hard to focus on Crystal gushing about why Harry was the best member of One Direction when Gigi could only focus on the girl’s lips. Thankfully, Crystal’s lunch was over.

Gigi had a moment of bravery and pulled out her phone. “Hey Crystal, what’s your number? We should definitely hang out sometime soon!”

“Oh, totally!” Crystal took Gigi’s phone and put her number in. “See you around!”

The contact said “Crystal.” Totally normal. Next to her name was the sparkle emoji and the double pink heart.

This was enough to send Gigi into a gay panic. The rest of her lunch, Gigi just sat at her table. Unable to touch her sandwich. She decided to text Crystal so that she could have her number.

Hey girl, it’s Gigi!

Gigi reread the text seven times, and debated changing it. Did it sound too enthusiastic? In another moment of blind courage, she added the pink sparkly heart after and hit the SEND button.

Jaida, Brita, and Jan made their way outside.

“Time to go,” Brita announced.

The rest of the day was a blur. Gigi and Jan were shown the other stores, and some of the products that were carried. They were also shown where the glow carts were, and where they were normally stationed.

“Tomorrow, we’ll show you guys how to stock. Super easy, hard work but I really enjoy it,” Jaida said as she was walking Jan and Jaida back to the parking lot.

While getting into her Jeep, Gigi saw a flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye. She looked over and saw Crystal waiting on the curb, on the phone.

“No, it’s okay Mom. I can walk, no big deal! Love you, bye.”

“Hey,” Gigi said driving next to the car. “Need a ride?”

“No, that’s okay! It’s not far!”

“Get in!”

Once inside her car, Crystal said, “Thank you so much. It’s not far but my feet hurt.”

“Mine too. I couldn’t let you just sit on the curb like that.” Gigi passed Crystal her aux cord.

After methodically scrolling through her phone, Crystal landed on a song. It was a song by One Direction that Gigi wasn’t familiar with.

“Sorry. I’m a One Direction stan first, and a human second.”

Gigi smiled. God, she was so cute when she sang along to the song. Crystal realized that she was looking at her, and dramatically started serenading Gigi. “Oh! Turn just right up here. I’m the third house.”

“Wow, you do live close. Do you have a car?”

“I don’t… drive,” Crystal admitted sheepishly.

“Well, I can give you rides if you want, it’s really no big deal. It’s on the way home for me, actually!” That was a lie, it was in the complete opposite direction.

“That’d be great! I can pay you in coffee, validation, and love!”

“I’ll take it. Bye, Crystal!”

“Bye, gorgeous!”

Gigi got a text as she pulled out of Crystal’s long driveway.

See you tomorrow! Followed by the same heart next to her name.

On the way home, Gigi drove silently. She hadn’t bothered to connect her phone to the aux cord. She was too busy overanalyzing every single interaction she��d had that day. Gigi learned a lot on her first day of training, but the biggest takeaway she had was that she had a crush on Crystal.

#rpdr fanfiction #crygi #jankie #jaida x nicky #crystal methyd #gigi goode #jan sport #jackie cox #nicky doll #jaida essence hall #heidi n closet #widow von du #aiden x brita #teen au #stupid for you #metaluna #s12 #submission

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inevitableenquere · 5 years

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Mademoiselle Mari

Insp. by a comment on the Maribat Discord:

Buckle up, biches.

We’re gonna pull deep into DC canon for the French codename for female superheroes, Mademoiselle Marie, in use since the 18th century through the World Wars and probably beyond. Alfred Pennyworth worked closely with “Mademoiselle Marie” in the past.

In this universe, its expanded into a French government-sponsored training program, training little girls in espionage and assassinry since the Cold War. These program heads aren’t monsters; the girls still live with their families, still go to civilian school, they just occasionally “take trips to see distant relatives”.

Their parents are aware that their daughters are doing government work, and there’s a benefit package unlike any other available within the country. Salary is set aside in trust for “Marie” until she hits adulthood (precaution in case of shitty parents) and a stipend besides for her and her parents to use as they see fit. These girls get a full-ride “scholarship” to any accredited global university of their choice. Only the best of the best risk their lives for wet-work necessary for the good of France. These girls become unsung heroes of France, and they receive glowing recommendations when they decide to move on from the program.

Still, it’s not something the Dupein-Cheng family had thought of for their daughter, it’s not a well-known program after all. The handlers don’t have an eye on her until new mayor of Paris, freshly divorced, André Bourgeois brings the girl “bullying his little princess” to their attention. And that is how six-year-old Marinette Dupein-Cheng is brought into the program.

Now, Marinette, tiny little bi-racial girl, is competitive, and this program is something she enjoys, learning from adults and “older sisters” on how to tumble, dance, act, create, and make new friends– both in person with the other girls, and through letters to former agents and outside contacts. They craft a network based on previously established agency contacts and expand upon them as they move out in the world.

Marinette quickly becomes a star student, moving on to weapons training, and eventually becomes one of the first to graduate in her batch and she travels the world as pre-teen superspy “Mademoiselle Marie”. (Whose last name changes by assignment.)

This is how she meets Damian Al Ghul, prince of the League of Assassins for the first time, though he’s introduced to her as “independent contractor” Caracal. He clocks her as trained, and a threat right away, and takes his standard precautionary measure. He attempts to murder her.

Attempts, because Mari is just as trained as he is, if not as lethally inclined. He quickly finds himself pinned under her knee, knife to his throat. (Later, he insists that he was having an off day, helplessly grateful that he hadn’t succeeded.) But in the moment they agree to a truce and go their own way, Marie Simon to her “parents”, Caracal to the shadows from whence he came.

Naturally, the next time they meet they are “distant cousins” on a collaborative wetworks mission in Thessaly, against an uppity German drug lord, and his mad-scientist wife. The mission goes a bit sideways, took more luck than either will admit to pull it off, and they emerge from the aftermath, a grudging respect on both sides. Even if she’s too soft and he’s an arrogant andouille.

Through happenstance and circumstances, they run into each other enough, work together enough, to become friends. Friends, in this case, meaning “person I won't stab on sight and/or who owes me a favor”. A rarity for Damian.

Marinette thinks otherwise; with friendships among those in her organization, and tentative friendships with some of the boys in école, she considers Caracal an Ally. A lonely sad boy, sure, but more a feral street cat then a friend. It takes more than a few meetings for Marinette to consider him a Ride-or-Die Friend.

Through the years, these two baby assassins grow into a friendship that withstands facing each other as enemies to reunite with no hard feelings at the next meeting between them. After all it’s Just Business, and they both know that well.

And then Hawkmoth.

Marinette can’t be Ladybug, “defender of Paris” when “Mademoiselle Marie” travels across the globe networking for her government and taking down European threats. Marinette reluctantly resigns from her position, and she takes up a red-spotted mantle.

Now the Mlle. Marie Organization aren’t idiots. Marinette Dupein-Cheng retires with accolades, offered a permanent place whenever she finishes her “hiatus”. And if the Parisian Police are instructed from on high to look the other way for Ladybug? Well, it’s best to leave superhero business to superheroes.

People in the organization are Carefully Not Thinking About It.

Completely coincidentally, therapy and healthy coping mechanisms are now mandatory for all operatives working within Paris and the surrounding areas.

That said, she still has to tell her assassin that she’s retiring.

Damian does not take it well.

Not like murder not well.

Like communication blackout and regime change in Peru not well.

Damian gives her the silent treatment. After all, she’s Out. (She abandoned him.)

Little does he know, his mother is working to get him out as well.

Marinette, meanwhile is Not Happy that Mothman Barbie decided to take out his issues on her home turf. The Mlle. Marie project is supposed to be foreign support, and last line of defense. So I mean it's in her wheelhouse. She just enjoyed her job as a globetrotting pre-teen superspy.

She doesn’t want to be chained down to the homefront, not when there's so much inspiration out there! Putting all that on hold for Mothman Barbie in Paris, eating into her free time, sleep, and drastically cutting into her social life? Bitch.

Civilian life makes her itch now, stuck in one place with confusing, mandatory, rules. Fictional barriers and preteen posturing, and only one hidden knife? Being Marinette is Suffering™. New friend Alya and pretty-boy Adrien can only relieve it so much.

Yes she has a bit of a crush. He's pretty and a model. Shut up.

Tikki is pleased she's got another loyal warrior, a second coming of Jeanne d'Arc, though she wishes Marinette was kinder. That's something she learns while dealing with Mothman Barbie. Not just how to act kind, to prevent akumas. But how to genuinely be kind. How to unlock the empathy she'd learned to tune out years ago, and how to act altruistically.

During her collège years Marinette juggles the life of a teen superhero, making friends with her class sincerely for the first time in years, something she didn’t get the chance to do with her frequent trips. Beyond Nino and Kim that is.

When Lila comes she deems her as annoying, but not worth her time. Until she’s the one turning her friends into akumas, with broken promises and lies that damage reputations. Marinette has a set future, as long as she keeps to the laws of this land and doesn’t slaughter a bitch. Lila can’t do anything to her. But if she hurts any of her friends, Lila is getting a horse head in her bed, American cliché or not.

Thankfully her crush on Adrien dies a silent death during this time. She can’t see herself with someone who won’t stand up for himself, nor with someone who enables a pathological liar that is one move away from harming the rest of her friends. She’s unspeakably grateful for that when Mothman Barbie is revealed to be his absentee father and Mayura to be the closest thing he has to a living mother. She’s able to focus her attention on his mental state and not how stupidly pretty he is.

Adrien is cemented as her best friend and platonic life partner in a catsuit. Adrien, once he got over his crush on the "idol" Ladybug, is happy to treat her the same. He’s just glad that his Lady won’t leave him for what his family had done.

Despite Mari’s wishes, Ladybug can’t retire just yet. People come out of the woodwork to fill in the vacuum left behind from the fashion-blind terrorist that held Paris in fear for three years. Ladybug is a celebrity, and Paris would be left uneasy if the city’s heroes left them undefended. She trains to be a guardian with Master Fu, to find more permanent Miraculous holders to take up the defense of Paris, and later the world. She finally has the free time to devote to her fashion commissions and to pick up the occasional job with her old organization.

It’s mid-way through lycée that Jagged invites her as his plus one to a charity gala in the United States. As his designer, and as an inconspicuous bodyguard that has combat training (far more than he knows), Marinette is the best choice when Penny is on leave. It gives his favorite niece the chance to network with American big shots, and get her brand noticed by more than just a few fashion moguls in Paris.

Which leads us to today. Marinette Dupein-Cheng– agent on leave, teenage superhero, aspiring designer, and temporary bodyguard of her surrogate uncle– spots a very familiar profile across the room.

Her assassin, dressed to kill, possibly literally. And she resigns herself to once more being on the opposite side of the boy who cut her out of his life, and any attempts to get in touch with him.

She’s dressed in a MDC original (with more hidden knives on her person than people would think), as she goes through the familiar song-and-dance and slips into the mindset of Mademoiselle Marie.

Stolen glances across the room. How have they been? Will they talk to me again even if I left/left her in silence?

Both are on edge. They are professionals and an unexpected meeting won't prevent them from keeping their loved ones charges safe.

It's like they never left the business, the two of them. They don't know each other. I've never seen them before. They can't have been the murderer because I saw them head to the bathroom. Just don't. touch. what's. Mine.

They're Friends after all.

Thankfully nothing happens at the party.

Damian Wayne saw her. How could he have ignored her, magnetic as she ever was. His eyes periodically drawn to her, partly assessment, partly admiration. When nothing happens at the gala, he figures that she’s changed as much as he has. And Damian has changed. He's softer and he knows it. He's been Out almost as long as she has, and in trying to hold to his father’s standards, he doesn’t think he could slip into the mindset of the ruthless prince of assassins so easily any more.

The silence and loss of his first friend on the other hand, was a wound that lingered even as he learned of civilian friendships and built connections with other superheroes around his age. This was a chance to introduce himself to his oldest friend. Without business between them this time.

It's Damian that does the signal.

Mari trips and giggles at the end of the night over to her assassin. It's easy after years of "Clumsy Marinette can't possibly be Ladybug!" She plays up the petite harmless French girl.

"Mon Caracal!" She calls from 3 feet away, stumbling into his arms.

She hugs him, compartmentalizing the muscled form that holds her safely, knowing he can kill her if she plays this wrong.Not without a fight though.

She hugs him more surely, kissing both his cheeks the way neither of them would be allowed outside of acting. "It's been far too long!"

She pulls away to see him gazing down at her, and wow someone has given him acting lessons because he smiles soft, fond, and far more real than he ever had Before.

"Marie."

She boops him on the nose. "Marinette." She teases coyly. She can't tell him her last name. For the safety of her parents, but also to keep cover as close friends.

"Marinette." He nods, crooked smile on his face, and away from prying eyes there's the signal that he'll keep his mouth shut about her name.

Speaking of prying eyes... "Marinette!" Uncle Jagged calls, making his way over to the pair of them. Her assassin is surprised, though few would be able to tell, at the world-famous rockstar approaching them.

"Uncle Jagged!" She answers, facing him but keeping a hand on the muscled arm of her friend to keep him from attacking, just in case.

She plays up the accent. Just a rockstar with his very French™ niece and her boy toy, nothing to see here!

"Jagged," she says again looking up at her uncle, "this is my good friend–"

"Damian" her assassin, starstruck or not, can follow his cue.

Between them is the subtle flash of information-true-hidden as she speaks over it to distract Jagged. "–Damian, my caracal."

Jagged bristles a little, baring his teeth in what those who don't know him would call a toothy grin, rather than a threat.

"And is Damian rock-and-roll enough for my favorite designer, M?"

"He's very kind," she confides with a Marinette-sweet smile. In his own way. she finishes the thought ruefully. A small part of her brain is cackling hysterically.

Jagged relaxes, and drags the both of them forward, holding a polaroid out to snap a picture of the three of them. ("Very Rock-and-Roll!" Jagged had said three months earlier.) He shakes the picture to development, and autographs it with a flourish, before stuffing it into Damian's hands.

"Well any friend of Marinette's is a friend of mine! And M? Car leaves in 10." He smiles, patting them both on the shoulder before sauntering off.

"I." Damian tries. He sighs.

"Jagged Stone? Jagged? Really Marie?" Damian asks, slipping once more into the familiar nickname. Marinette decided to let it slide, Jagged had that effect on a lot of people.

Marinette shrugs helplessly, before fishing a pen and spare notepad for her to jot down her contact information. It had only been a night but that familiar rush and heady friendship was something that Mari didn't want to lose if she could help it. She placed the paper with the photograph, putting the lethal pen back in her clutch, and cupping his face in both hands.

"Keep in touch this time? Please mon caracal?" If her begging was a little more heartfelt, well she’d learned a few things too. She kissed his cheek one final time and stepped away.

A hand caught her wrist.

"It hasn't been the same without you, Marinette." Damian said, hand slipping into hers, thumb gently brushing the back of it. He lifted her hand and kissed the air above her knuckles, before stepping away and towards the exit.

I must not swoon. I must not swoon. I must not swoon. Marinette chanted internally as she left to find Jagged, already looking forward to turning a Friendship into something more honest. More real.

-Meanwhile, In The Lobby-

"What was that, baby bird?" Dick asked his youngest brother.

"An old friend." Damian answered tersely, pointedly ignoring the curious stare from his Father and the more obnoxious kissy noises from Todd.

"Hell of an old friend." Tim commented, sounding almost put out, probably because of the unexpected personal introduction to Jagged Stone and autograph Damien had received. "You let her get close."

Damian raised an eyebrow at Tim.

Tim rolled his eyes, "PDA close!" he expounded like that explained anything.

Dick must have sensed his confusion, " You attempted to judo-flip Kor'i when you first met her. And you let this tiny girl hug you and kiss your cheeks."

Damian scowled, "I'm not that bad!"

"You bit me last week when I went to ruffle your hair!" Jason said, tugging his suit sleeve back to reveal light scarring.

"And?" Damian said, very done with the conversation already.

"We just wanted to know how long you've been pining for her, baby bird." Dick teased.

Damian felt a betraying heat creep up the back of his neck, to his ears and cheeks. "It's not like that!" He hissed.

"I-" he paused, wondering how he could explain the beautiful, cunning girl who knew of his past, was honestly the best part of it, and how she had watched his back, kept him safe and sane, had killed people on his tail even, without making them regard her as a threat.

His grandfather would have made her an example. Vivisected, drawn and quartered for daring to get close to his perfect weapon.

"I've known her for years. We're Friends, and that means I'll allow her more than I would you, Todd."

He stalked forward, as his father called behind him, "You should introduce us when you feel comfortable, Damian."

He stopped, listening but not daring to turn around.

"After all," Damian could hear the grin in his father's voice, "It'll be nice to meet my future daughter-in-law!"

Screw the Joker, Batman ends right here, right now.

#maribat #maridami #damimari #dc x mlb #daminette #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #superspy marinette #superspy marinette dupein-cheng #assassin damian #mothman barbie #mothman barbie is a punkass bitch #my fic

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shitpostingfromthebarricade · 4 years

Text

1.3.2 Double Quatuor

For @brickrenouveautions (which officially ends tomorrow!!)

Of the New Yorkers, one was from Los Angeles, another from Chicago, the third from San Francisco, and the fourth from Washington DC; but they were students, and to live in New York City is to be of New York City.

These young men were unremarkable. Everyone knows the type, and these four serve as fine examples: neither good nor bad, neither learned nor ignorant, neither talented nor stupid; handsome in that charming April of life we call twenty. They were four Chads; for at this time, Brads did not yet exist. “Everybody make some noise!” exclaim the underclassmen. “My boy Chad! Chad’s coming at you hot!” DJ Khaled was everywhere; elegance was champagne and fancy cars; the business-casual type was not prevalent till later, and the first of the Brads — Elon Musk — had only just launched SpaceX.

The first of these Chads was called Félix Tholomyès, of LA; the second, Listolier, from San Fran; the third, Fameuil, from Chicago; and the last, Blacheville, from DC. Of course, each had his lady: Blacheville loved Favourite, with the u because she had been to England once; Listolier adored Dahlia, who had chosen to assume the name of a flower when she arrived at university; Fameuil idolized Zéphine, a nickname for Josephine; and Tholomyès had Fantine, called ‘the blonde’ because of her beautiful hair, which shone like the newly-released iPhone 6 plus in gold.

Favourite, Dahlia, Zéphine, and Fantine were four sorority girls, perfumed and made up, still somewhat students since they hadn’t finished all of their classes, plagued by relationship drama yet maintaining that youthful livelihood of carefree undergraduates and the resilient hopefulness that enables women to survive that first fall. One was called ‘the baby’ because she was the youngest, and another was called ‘Grandma’ — Grandma was twenty-three. To put it plainly, the first three were well-versed in the ways of the world, and Fantine the Blonde was still rather innocent.

Dahlia, Zéphine, and particularly Favourite were not. Fantine had already had far more than the average amount of drama in her relationship — ‘the drama’ named ‘Adam’ the first time, ‘Alex’ the second, and ‘Augustus’ the third. Debt and vanity are awful consciences: one says you shouldn’t, the other says you should, and beautiful women always seem to have both. When they inevitably make a misstep, society punishes them for it. All the world, just barely out of reach! Did Watson ever long for more?

Favourite, having been to England that one time, was Zéphine and Dahlia’s idol. She’d had her own place off-campus even as a freshman. Her dad was a proud, self-important math professor who never got married; when he was younger, his secretary bent over to pick up some papers he’d knocked to the floor, and without meaning to, he’d fallen in love. Favourite was the result. She still saw her dad on campus sometimes, and when she did he’d give a distracted nod as he hurried off to wherever he was going.

One morning, an old woman let herself into Favourite’s apartment. “Do you know who I am?”

“No.”

“I’m your mother.” Immediately she’d helped herself to the contents of Favourite’s fridge and made herself at home in the guest bedroom. Favourite’s mom was a mean old hag: she never talked to her daughter and would sit around for hours without saying anything; she ate enough for four; and when she did leave it was to go to the building’s lobby to gossip and complain about Favourite.

Listolier had a nail fetish, and Dahlia had beautiful nails which she was careful to maintain with regular manicures and a healthy regiment of promiscuity. All Zéphine had to do was say “Yes Sir” in a particular tone to have Fameuil wrapped around her little finger.

The lads were all friends, as were the girls, so it was convenient.

There’s a difference between being wise and being philosophical: Favourite, Zéphine, and Dahlia were philosophical where Fantine was wise. But how can Fantine be wise and then date Tholomyès? Well, Solomon would argue that to know love is a prerequisite for being wise. This was Fantine’s first relationship: the others may not have been strangers to hook-ups, but for Fantine, sex had meaning.

Fantine, rather than being born, seemed summoned out of nowhere: she had no mother or father, and her birth records must have disappeared with them, so for a long time she had no name either. They had taken to calling her ‘Fantine’ at the agency over the time in which she’d had no papers, and it stuck. She got her first job when she was ten and moved out on her own into the city when she was fifteen, getting into a local university upon graduating with the help of her meager savings and several sizable financial aid packages. Her only wealth was her beauty, gold and pearls in her hair and teeth. Having no other savings, she worked and studied to survive; in order to live, she also loved.

She loved Tholomyès.

To him, it was a fling; to Fantine, it was everything. Frat row knew their courtship well; they would meet at parties, air thick with booze and smoke and sex; Fantine would always leave before things became too heated, but she’d never stay away so long as to discourage him. It was a game of sorts, and Fantine lost.

Blacheville, Listolier, and Fameuil made up their own group of which Tholomyès was the leader. He was the brains of the operation.

Tholomyès’s family was well off and gave him a very comfortable allowance. For thirty years old, he was in terrible shape: his face was wrinkled, his teeth were falling out, and he was already balding. He liked to joke, “Hair at thirty, knees at forty!” His body didn’t agree with most foods (not that he let this discourage him), and he had a weepy eye to boot; he made up for all of this with his personality. He replaced his teeth with jests, his hair with joy, his health with irony, and his weeping eye was always cheerful. He was not unlike a decorated corpse. He wrote a play once that would never be published but that he loved to brag about, told people how he enjoyed dabbling in poetry from time to time, and moreover, doubted everything everyone said with a certain air of authority and superiority that no person with self-awareness enough to understand how little they know would ever dare.

Naturally, this all made him the perfect leader for their band.

One day, Tholomyès took the boys aside and said, “The girls have been wanting a surprise for almost a year now, and we promised we’d do something special. They’re always bringing it up, too; they sound like my dad’s third wife: ‘No es chiste! Que a mí no me importa Jacob no ayuda: si tú no me ayudas, te me vas de la casa, que aquí no estoy de criada.’”

“What does that mean?” asked Fameuil.

“That she was about to turn off my 360. But yeah, the girls are always like, ‘Tholomyès, you promised!’ Meanwhile, our parents have been complaining that they don’t see enough of us. I think the answer here’s pretty obvious.”

Tholomyès lowered his voice to relay his scheme, an idea so unheard of that it left all of them cackling, with Blacheville exclaiming, “You’re brilliant!”

They came across a bar soon after and went their separate ways. The next time they saw the girls, the boys invited them out.

#so I'm actually working on the entire book of In the Year 1817 #but the first chapter is taking a really long time to work through #and at this rate even though I'm nearly finished with ch 2-9 ch 1 won't be finished in time to present for another several days #so here's a preview of what I've finished so far #shitposting sometimes writes #but yeah I've been wanting to upload as I go #but of course the VERY FIRST CHAPTER has to be the one that takes an eternity #and I refuse to publish a placeholder #les mis #guys and grisettes #brick renouveautions #brick renouveautions 2020 #thicc bricc #also it is v important to me that you know that Watson is referring to the IBM supercomputer and not Sherlock

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not-safeforsanders · 4 years

Text

Be My Baby / Devil Like You

This fic is based on Bea Miller’s Be My Baby, and Gareth Dunlop’s Devil Like You. Yeah I know, that’s a bit of a whiplash between two songs.

Fic Synopsis: Roman knows how to dance, Patton knows how to pray, Remus knows how to use his mouth and Logan knows how to shut it. Meanwhile, Virgil and Janus think they’re all idiots and are begging for some healthy communication. (University!AU) (18+)

Warnings: A little bit about depressive states, and a fear of abandonment (one paragraph).

Ships for the whole fic: Intrulogical, Royality, Anxceit, Logan/Remy/Remus/Emile. (Lomile and Remus/Remy separately too)

Word Count: 1645

“You…” Remus pokes Logan in the back from behind with a smirk “...have a crush!” Logan’s cheeks go very red at the statement and he scoffs lightly, turning around to look at his partner, the man grins at him with his trademark mischief and any word the other has on his tongue simply dies. “Look at you, you’re wearing your best shirt, your tightest jeans, and you took half an hour styling your hair, you...have a crush! On a man that is practically married no less!”

“Aren’t you...upset?”

“Me? That my best boy is getting some experience? I’m vicariously living through you and no less,” The darker-haired man jumps up to sit on the kitchen counter, “...so you knew each other in high school right?” Logan makes a humming noise of confirmation “I see, and you fell out of touch?” Another hum. “And you were so sexually repressed you couldn’t tell you wanted to hop on his dick?” Logan, half way through filling his bottle of water, sighs. “So what’s his boyfriend like? Is he also cute?”

“Remy is a headache dressed in leather,” Logan replies curtly, shutting off the water. “Now come on, or we’ll be late,” He screws the cap back on his bottle and slides it into his satchel, pulling it over his shoulder. “And for the love of everything holy and unholy, try not to end the day sleeping with either of them,” Remus gives a mock two-finger salute, but there’s an excited bounce in his step; when he’s happy he can be like a child, unrestrained, excitable, Logan finds it nothing less than adorable that even his happiness is uncontrolled (although he would never dare to admit it); Remus doesn’t care for people who stare at him strangely as this 20-year-old man bounces up and down the streets, walking backwards so he can talk to Logan and walk in front, spinning on the spot and gesturing wildly with him arms. He is so animated that occasionally he seems unreal.

In such fashion, he throws open the cafe door and waltzes in, leaving the door to be awkwardly caught by Logan in an attempt to not get his face smacked in by it. Remus recognises Emile sat at the table, and then computes the smaller man sitting next to him, wearing sunglasses atop messy brown hair. Both of them smile and wave them over, the stranger (assumedly Remy), offers Logan a hug and pats him on the back in a way that was intentionally supposed to make him wince.

“It’s nice to see you again specs,” He grins before plonking himself back down in the chair next to Emile, his gaze goes to Remus then, where he leans his arm on the table and holds out his hand with a grin that is nothing short of flirtatious “And very nice to meet you,” Logan and Emile both roll their eyes, meeting each other’s gaze as Remus accepts the handshake.

“Likewise,”

“Alright, behave you two,” The psychology student interrupts, shaking his head, but he’s smiling with his cheeks slightly flushed. “What’re we drinking?”

“Vodka, if I have my way,” Remus mutters.

“I like his style,” Remy clips in.

“What’s a frappuccino?” Logan adds, a little absent mindedly as he squints up at the menu. Remy looks at him with varying degrees of upset, Remus looks like he’s questioning their entire relationship. He orders a frappuccino in the end.

They sit and talk for a couple of hours, the afternoon starts to blend into early evening and they’re accumulating coffee cups and little plates that once housed biscuits at their table. Emile talks about his degree, the things he’s learning about the mind that make him genuinely question the fragility of mankind. Logan listens, his head leaning on the palm of his hand, hanging off every word that leaves Emile’s mouth with rapt attention that cannot waver. Remy and Remus exchange small looks with each other between the two and their one-sided conversation.

Remy talks about his work, he works in a coffeeshop and he genuinely enjoys it too “...customers can be rude but I’m making and drinking coffee all day every day...” he hums a little, sucking at the straw to his iced coffee way too slowly for Remus not to follow the movement with his eyes. Logan doesn’t notice, and if he did he still wouldn’t have minded. Remus talks about his studies and the sort of music he likes, and his brother, but then he goes very quiet and shakes his head, deciding he’d talked enough.

Emile looks at his watch around 5pm, with a sigh. “Sorry to cut this short...” he says with a small smile that does look genuinely apologetic “...but I have an appointment with Patton in about half an hour, so we should start heading out.”

“Ever so dedicated to your work,” Remy grins, and although his smile is teasing there’s a heavy load of pride in there that is sweet to witness. Remus and Logan don’t really do sweet that well, either because of pride or discomfort, as their relationship is based on gentle bullying and eyerolls. “I should probably head home and sort out my work for tomorrow.” He grins as they stand, “It was nice to see you Lolo.”

“I hated that nickname then and I hate it n-” his complaint is cut off by the other man drawing him into a hug, he sighs and wraps his arms around his old friend, not quite understanding when he started to enjoy physical affection.

“I like it,” Remus comments, standing beside the two. He would. When the two friends part, Remy offers him a hug too and the other man accepts with enthusiasm. The taller never really does know his own strength but Remy is twice his body mass so when he receives the rather forceful hug that would usually send Logan flying, he manages to keep perfectly balanced.

Mutely, internally, Remus considers that a little hot.

“I’ll see you later Emmy,” Remy leans up to kiss Emile’s cheek gently, before the four of them part ways.

He likes his alone time; not because living with Emile is anyway suffocating, nor does he dislike it at all. He loves him, and he loves the time he spends with him, but he thinks every human being likes to be alone sometimes, with their thoughts, even wandering through a rather active campus and watching the world turn around him. All the people and the noise fade into the background.

He’d missed Logan, he likes Remus too, but there’s this gnawing anxiety in the pit of Remy’s stomach that he hasn’t felt in years. When his feelings for Emile had first come to fruition he’d never once thought he’d have a chance, anyone with eyes could see this man was hopelessly in love with Logan, except apparently the one person who was supposed to realise.

Remy finished his last year of high school in a city he didn’t know because the worst loneliness he felt was the thought of being so far away from Emile. His parents had let him, they’d thought it was admirable that their friendship meant so much to him, that it was a sign of strength and kindness.

He’d been fucking terrified. At the time he had no intention of telling Emile he loved him in a romantic sense, he was content to spend his life never telling him, never once expecting more than his friendship and a life of obedience to a man who was forever in love with someone else.

He’d also been furious though, some part of him still is. Emile was their age, graduating high school a year early to go to college in a city full of strangers and Logan just never...talked to them again. Radio silence. They didn’t know if he was dead or alive, if he was angry, or upset, or if he’d just forgotten about them so quickly. His best friends.

Turns out it was none of the above, Logan had a habit of knocking up walls whenever he was scared, and perhaps unconsciously they were both reminders of something that he didn’t even know how to remember.

But it’s not his place to really be angry is it? Logan hurt him too, yes, but not even a fraction of what it did to Emile. Remy had to drag him out of bed, make him food, push him out of the door to go to class because his entire life seemed to fall flat. Perhaps that’s why Emile fell in love with him, because he’d felt abandoned and Remy utterly refused too even when he was being reckless and insufferable. Remy even refused to blame him for his depression, he didn’t really blame Logan either.

“It’s just a bad situation,” he’d say “Logan wouldn’t just stop talking to us without reason, so he’s probably going through something too.”

It’s still strange to see Logan now. He’s taller, his hair is getting long, his eyes are so full of life, he talks with expression and holy shit his laugh. Years of knowing that man and not once had he seen such expressive joy in his face. Is that because of Remus? Because of his new friends? Or is just the time and place and happenstance? He doesn’t know, but he does know despite the little bit of anger that still resides in him that he is genuinely happy for the other man.

He’s happy for Emile too, because he knows his feelings hasn’t changed and Logan was looking at him like the stars shone in his eyes.

He’s happy for them.

Besides, if the expression on Remus’ face through half of that little double date were anything to go off, he’s thinking he might be getting a little something out of this too.

#bmbdly

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