#she was um. highly strung. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Masterlist link here

AO3 link here

Summary:

Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears the echo of birdsong in her laughter, her songs to the gods in the wind.

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

Pro tip: Italics denote scenes in Akaashi’s dreams / past.

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

Time passes.

Akaashi graduates from university with top honours and gets recruited immediately by a publishing company. He’s mildly disappointed when he’s dispatched to the manga department instead of the literature department as he originally hoped, but it’s not all that bad, he gets to work with Udai-sensei on his new volleyball manga.

He’s content, all things considered.

His mother is constantly on his case to find a girlfriend - because she insists she’s growing old and wants grandchildren soon. To placate her, he goes on arranged dates with daughters of his father’s business associates, with nieces of his mother’s friends. While they’re pleasant enough, they all seem to come from the same mold - well bred middle class university graduates more interested in complaining about their bosses and talking about the branded bags they’re going to get next.

Once he tried asking one of them about the type of flowers she likes best. His date blinked in confusion at first, but immediately brightened up and she said ‘roses, I guess? They look so good on instagram!’

He did not ask for a second date.

Honestly, he’s not exactly looking to date anyone at the moment. He’s young, barely twenty three. Work is time consuming enough, with his days filled with constantly looming deadlines and chasing temperamental mangakas like Udai-sensei. His mother will just have to accept that grandchildren are very much not in the near future.

But he does feel somewhat guilty - ‘even Yuji-kun is seeing this lovely girl, auntie tells me,’ his mother nagged last Sunday, so he picks up a habit of buying flowers to soothe her every time he heads to his parent’s home for a meal.

‘Pink carnations for your mother again?’ the florist asks brightly.

Akaashi nods, insisting on paying for the baby’s breath she adds to the bouquet. The florist lets him when he assures her he’s no longer a starving university student, and pulls her gloves off to rifle in her drawer for change.

‘Here you go!’, she chirps, holding out a tray with his change. His gaze is drawn to the pink burn scars streaked across her hands, and flushes when she meets his curious eyes with a knowing look.

‘Sorry, I - uh didn’t mean to stare’, he begins to splutter, but she waves it off.

‘It’s fine. I got them a long time ago’, she replies, a wistful smile twisting her lips, tugging her sleeves down to her wrist.

He bows and takes his leave. He doesn’t spare a second thought on the encounter when he reaches his parent’s house, his mother exclaiming over the little bouquet.

The table shakes when his colleague slumps into his seat, sighing deeply.

‘Did your boss get on your case for typos again?’ Akaashi asks, his spoon pausing on the way to his mouth.

‘Worse’, his colleague groans. ‘He’s sending me to Hokkaido for next month’s feature on crimes that shocked the nation, and I have to travel all the way up the mountains to some dinky little town without a train station.

‘Hm’. Akaashi raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. ‘What’s the feature about?’

‘See for yourself’. His colleague dramatically slides his folder of articles across the table, bumping it into Akaashi’s plate.

He thumbs through the folder. Nakamura Yakeru, the mayor of a small mountain town in Hokkaido, found guilty on a multitude of charges - breaking and entering, causing arson by fire, assault and attempted murder of a schoolgirl, her identity redacted. It’s shocking in and of itself - but there’s something awfully familiar about the man’s face.

He smooths out the creases in the paper, bringing the newspaper clipping closer to his face, and oh -

He knows that face.

His mind echoes with the memories of flinching at the sight of Nakamura’s teeth, yellowed from nicotine and bared in a smirk, the acrid stench of cigarettes lingering on his shirt, cursing whenever that inconsiderate bastard left sparks smouldering in dry grass. But it doesn’t make sense - there’s no reason for him to have ever met the man. He’s never been farther north than Sapporo, a born and bred Tokyo city boy after all. And he doesn’t recall seeing the man’s face on the news either when the crime was committed.

So why would his dreams feature this man?

‘Akaashi?’ he hears his colleague call his name, but his voice can barely be heard over the pounding of his heart in his ears. ‘You’ve gone really white, is everything ok?’

‘I’m fine’, he replies, hastily shoving the article back in the folder. ‘Everything’s fine.’

His colleague doesn’t look like he believes him. Frankly, Akaashi doesn’t believe himself either.

Try as he might, he can’t get the eerie coincidence out of his mind. And after a few restless nights, he finds himself back in his childhood bedroom, holding the old omamori in his hands. It’s just an inanimate scrap of cotton fabric, but he’s tempted to borrow his mother’s sewing kit to pick its stitches apart, to discover the secrets woven into its threads.

It feels silly being so superstitious, but he can’t help feeling that he’s on the verge of discovering what his strange dreams have been trying to show him - so he tucks the omamori under his pillow, his thumbnail catching on a stray thread, before he surrenders himself to his dreams.

‘Akaashi Keiji’, a cool voice pronounces his name with faint amusement. ‘Back to change the terms of our bargain? ’

His eyes fly open.

This time he’s on familiar ground, kneeling on the twenty sixth step of the shrine he visits with his parents for Hatsumode, the other twenty five steps below him shrouded in mist. But the woman standing before him is not familiar to him - in fact, she’s clearly not even human, not with her red eyes and pale lips, not with the wisteria trailing from her hair and disappearing into her skin.

That should scare him, but it doesn’t because he can’t discern any malice in her eyes, and the scent of the wisteria is soothingly sweet.

So his curiosity wins out over his sense of caution, and he asks politely - ‘I’m sorry, who are you exactly? And, um. What bargain are you referring to? ’

Her eyes gleam. ‘I’m offended. Don’t you recognise the guardian of the shrine you’ve been praying at your whole life? And as for the bargain you’ve made with me - I thought you already figured it all out by yourself, little boy.’ Laughing airily, she crouches over him, a wooden plaque dangling from her finger. ‘Remember this?’

He reads the words etched on the plaque. ‘I wish I could have more time. I wish for yesterday to come again.’ Then he glances up at the shrine deity sharply. ‘I remember that from my dreams. Does this mean they’re real?’

‘What do you think?’ Her lips stretch into a grin.

‘Logic would suggest that they aren’t. It shouldn’t be possible to swap bodies, let alone with someone I’ve never met in my life. And yet…’

‘And yet?’ she prompts, tilting his head towards her with the nail of her finger.

‘It’s too much of a coincidence to ignore the fact that I know Nakamura Yakeru from my dreams, so that suggests at least some semblance of it is real.’ He looks at her pleadingly. ‘Are you here to help me?’

She laughs again, the sound ethereal like the flutter of butterfly wings. The sleeves of her purple kimono slide down her wrists, the scent of wisteria enveloping him growing sickly sweet. ‘Help you? Well, since you asked so nicely, little boy, I guess there’s no harm telling you your dreams are real. I granted your wish on a whim, and look how amusing you’ve been!’

Oh gods his dreams are real. They’re real. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, they’re real.

Akaashi feels his stomach churn. He inhales a shaky breath.

That means she’s real, doesn't it?

He thinks about the salaciously titled newspaper articles, the violence implied in its words. He thinks about the innocence in her impulses, the whimsicalness of her thoughts. He feels ill at the thought of someone deliberately trying to extinguish her.

‘What happens in the end ?’ he asks, blood surging to his head, slamming his palms flat on the ground for support. ‘What happens to her?’

Sunlight pierces through the fog, and the wisteria spirit starts to fade before his very eyes.

‘Why don’t you see for yourself?’, her voice echoes. ‘You’ll find all the answers you’re looking for at the shrine in the forest. You know the way there - you’ve been there a thousand times, both in real life and in your dreams.’

He gasps as he jolts awake, hands clenching his sheets.

He’s in his bed in his apartment. Everything is exactly as it was before he went to sleep.

Well - everything except the scent of wisteria lingering in the air.

Udai-sensei’s eyes bug out from its sockets when Akaashi tells him he’s off to Hokkaido for an impromptu holiday.

‘You aren’t burnt out, are you? Is it me? Is it the deadlines? Don’t quit on me - there’s no way another editor can provide the same input on my new volleyball manga like you!’ he begs, sounding dangerously close to tears.

Akaashi sighs, muttering under his breath about ‘ highly strung mangakas’ but manages to reassure Udai that no, he’s not quitting, he’s just taking a four day break. He thought it’d be nice to visit the flower fields during summer in Hokkaido, and he has an old friend in those parts he might pay a visit to.

So he puts himself on a short flight to Sapporo, and a painfully long bus ride further north into the mountains, arriving at the rural village he’s traversed countless times in his dreams. He drags his luggage past the high school, the crunch of wheels on gravel slowly knocking loose memories of bones aching, flesh bruising, from tumbles down the stairs, from falls off drain pipes, from predestined losses against cement floors.

He exhales through his nose when he walks past the florist’s shop. It’s a hollow shell of bare concrete and cardboard shutters, a gap where the signboard should be on the shopfront, a stark contrast to the bustling bakery and combini it’s sandwiched between. Thank the gods, he mutters, the blaze of hurt and desperation in Hana-chan’s eyes haunting his mind.

The only inn in the town is serviceable enough, though he’s looked at in askance by the innkeeper when he admits he’s an editor for a publishing company. ‘Another gossip hound ’, the old lady mutters resentfully, and Akaashi has to do damage control lest she assign him the dampest room in the establishment and assure her that he’s no journalist, just a flower enthusiast interested in the lavender blooming in the fields. He charms her enough with his politeness that by the time he checks into his room, she offers him free use of a bicycle to explore the town, and he takes her up on her offer once he drops off his bags in his room.

The summer sun is starting its descent from the sky as he cycles past familiar dirt paths lined with trees, the anticipation in his blood thrumming as he passes sprawling farms he’s sure he’s eaten stolen eggs from, passes the gas station she bragged about stealing petrol from. The rush of blood to his head hits a roaring crescendo when he reaches the edge of the woods.

Leaning the bicycle against a fallen tree, he sets off to the very heart of the forest, his feet seeming to recognise a path his eyes cannot see. The deeper into the forest he ventures into, the thicker the branches overhead seem to grow, leaves interwoven into a net that blocks the sun.

The wind ripples over his skin. The trees seem to whisper out to him.

Okaeri, he hears. Welcome home, the Kodama spirits murmur over the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Sunlight from the setting sun spills into a clearing just ahead, and though he’s almost blinded by the sudden flash of light, he can make out the outline of a shrine, situated dead center of the clearing and breaks into a run. There it is , he thinks, dropping to his knees, hands trembling as he brushes fallen branches and leaves off the shrine, deaf to the growing whispers from the trees surrounding him.

‘Please grant me your secrets’, he breathes, eyes closed in prayer.

He can feel a pulse in the ground, a sudden shift in the air. Wisteria blooms from the soft earth in his heart.

Oh.

Oh gods.

He remembers.

Taglist:

@forgetou @animeflower26 @kageyamakock @underrated-fruit-tarts-official @bongofrito

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu angst #haikyuu romance #haikyuu fic rec #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu writing #hq writing #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x you #akaashi keiji x y/n #akaashi x you #fukurodani #kimi no nawa #haikyuucreations

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lovelucybradford · 3 years

Text

I Pretend You’re Mine (5)

A/N: Back with the promised continuation chapter!

Not sure if you’re interested, but when I was writing, in my head I pictured:

Betty White as Grandma Rose

Richard Madden as Levi

Peter Gallagher as Jason Martin

Scott Eastwood as Drew

Masterlist

Tags: @empath-bunny

@ityagirljay

@wolfarrowepz

@supernatural-crazed-girl

Five: You Were Romeo (I Was a Scarlet Letter)

Day 1: Thursday, June 13th

7:00 pm- Welcome Cocktails in the Stardust Lounge, Deck 6

“Champagne, miss?” The formally dressed waiter offered a flute of sparkling wine, a raspberry garnish floating in the glass. Rosalie took it from his hands with no hesitation, sending the attendant a silent smile of thanks. She put the glass to her lips, then paused and looked up at Derek.

“Will people judge me if I chug this whole thing right now?” she voiced, loving the amused smile that lit up her partner’s face at the innocent question.

“I thought we didn’t care anymore what people thought of us,” Derek reminded her, though she knew that when he was referring to ‘we’, he really meant her. Derek never was one to care what people thought of him.

Rosalie weighed her options, then decided that her family judged her anyways so why not have a good time?

In order to get through this hellish night, she’d have to be tipsy. Best start now.

Without a word of affirmation, she forewent her instilled manners and chugged the glass down in one long sip. Rosalie wasn’t normally a fan of champagne, unless it was Dom Perignon, which she realized made her sound like a total snob. It was the one thing that she’d inherited from her father, her expensive taste in food and drink. It seemed by the familiar, rich, and delicious taste of the bubbly that the cruise ship staff had only provided the very best for their VIP guests.

Rosalie searched for a place to set her glass, finding a nearby unoccupied table and gently depositing it there. She, quite literally, couldn’t afford to even chip one of the crystal goblets. She stumbled back to Derek, who was waiting for her with an open arm.

“You ready for this?” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot on her neck. It caused unvoluntary goosebumps to crawl up her arms, which she prayed he didn’t notice.

Was she ready?

A part of her never would be. She’d purposely left this part of her life behind, knowing all too well how toxic it was for her mental health. But Rosalie knew if she backed out now, then the family would know that they finally got to her. They would think that she was still strung up and heartbroken about Drew, or jealous of her stepsister for getting the diamond that was meant for Rosalie.

And sure, she had been… once upon a time.

Moving back to Beacon Hills, reconnecting with normal people, people she loved more than her own blood relatives… it had put everything into perspective for her again.

Rosalie could once again be herself, be that strong woman that Talia Hale had raised to be when Rosalie’s own mother had fallen short. The strong, kind, generous, goofy, compassionate, empathetic woman with a mind of her own and a head on her shoulders. Not the ice queen, the submissive and serious woman that her father had tried to warp her into.

And for that, Rose was forever thankful.

She was different now, but exactly the same. And this version of her, with her closest confidantes by her side, wouldn’t cower in a corner.

Rosalie held her head high, meeting Derek’s gaze with a confident look in her blue eyes.

“Yes,” she declared, feeling her confidence rise.

“Good.”

“Lead the way, Prince Charming.”

Derek snorted and shook his head at the nickname, but complied and escorted Rosalie further into the room. She searched for a friendly face among the crowd. Normally, she’d be able to find Lydia by her head of bright red hair, but nearly half of the people in the room had some shade of red hair.

Thankfully, Rosalie didn’t have to look all that hard, as Charlotte came bounding up to her aunt, screaming, “Auntie Rosie! Uncle Derek!”

And suddenly, as the child wrapped her arms around one of Derek’s legs and one of Rosalie’s, all of the attention in the room shifted to the couple.

“Is that Rosalie?” her cousin Noah commented to the man next to him.

“Who the hell is that with her? Because dayum, I’d like to tap that ass,” Noah’s twin, Nick, said back.

“That has to be her friend,” Uncle Alex said to his wife, his lips around a glass of Scotch.

“Not with the way he’s holding her. Besides, did you hear her niece call him Uncle? How she managed that is beyond me,” Aunt Sarah replied, looking Rose’s companion up and down with hungry eyes.

Rosalie ignored all the talk, even though it seemed as if the crowd wasn’t even attempting to be discreet in their conversations.

She reached down to pat Charlotte’s blonde head. “Hey, honey! I missed you!”

Derek ruffled Charlotte’s curls playfully, to which the little girl pretended to be angry with him. But Rosalie could see the smile that she was hiding as Charlotte clutched the adults’ legs even harder.

“All right, all right, Charlie. Let’s let Auntie Rosalie and Uncle Derek breathe, yeah?” Rosalie’s brother, Levi, broke through the crowd, detaching his daughter from the couple and telling her to go on and play with her cousins.

As soon as the little girl was out of sight, Levi enveloping his sister in a hug. Derek held out his hand for a friendly shake, but Levi pulled him into an embrace as well, the two men patting each other fondly on the back.

“I’m digging the beard,” Derek approved, gesturing to Levi’s newly grown beard while rubbing his own.

“What can I say? I was inspired by yours. Although I have to say, mine looks a little better. Y’know, because it’s still all one color,” Levi joked, comparing his solid red scruff to Derek’s salt-and-pepper look.

Rosalie elbowed Derek in the side teasingly. “Yeah, you old man!”

Derek raised one brow and stepped away from Rosalie, crossing his arms. “Oh sure, call me old man one more time.”

Rosalie beamed up at him, wagging her own brows. “What would you rather me call you? Sugar daddy?”

With one fell swoop, Derek was pressed against her, fingers tickling the small expanse of visible skin on her waist. Rose squealed with laughter, trying in vain to pull away from him and begging for mercy.

Levi cleared his throat loudly, causing the couple to separate. Rosalie’s cheeks burned red at the embarrassing scene that she had been a part of. Surely her brother would tease her about it.

Instead, Levi looked a bit pissed.

“So, I guess my daughter didn’t dream up your engagement, then. This,” Levi gestured to Rosalie and Derek, “is really happening?”

Derek shifted his weight on both feet. Rosalie bit her lip and looked to the floor guiltily. She loved her brother. She really did. But she knew that Levi had loose lips, and he’d surely have one too many and (unintentionally) let slip the whole ruse. That, and Rose couldn’t take the disappointment from him.

“It’s about fucking time,” Levi added, sounding a lot more jovial. Rosalie’s and Derek’s heads shot up instantly, shocked at his comment.

Levi slapped Derek on the shoulder. “Bro, I am so glad you didn’t listen to me.”

“What’s he talking about?” Rosalie interrogated Derek.

Derek scratched the back of his neck and turned his head towards the large window next to them. Before he could explain, Jess, Levi’s wife, snaked her arms around her husband’s waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Lee was telling me all about how he’d threatened Derek with his guns if he even put his hands on you.”

Rosalie’s jaw dropped. Derek stayed unusually silent. “You gave Der the boyfriend talk?! When was this, big brother?”

Levi raised both hands in surrender. “In my defense, Derek was a horny college kid back then, and I was only trying to protect my little sister. You know the, um, milestones that come with prom night.”

The tapping of a mic interrupted their conversation, which Rosalie was thankful for since she was at a loss for words.

She’d remembered that night in question, fondly. It was the night that she’d realized that she’d had feelings for Derek. Rosalie’s then-boyfriend, Ryan, had dumped her a week before prom for another, more sexy, more experienced, girl. Rosalie was heartbroken, and had sworn off prom, until Derek had shown up on her doorstep in a suit with a pink corsage and a sparkling silver tiara.

She’d laughed, of course, at the reference to the childhood nickname. Then, she’d excitedly rushed upstairs to ready herself, leaving Derek at the mercy of one Levi Martin. Levi Martin, who had, apparently, threatened to cut off Derek’s balls and feed them to the family dog if he had even touched his baby sister in an inappropriate way.

(Levi was always… poetic when it came to his threats.)

Rosalie had hoped, prayed, that as Derek had driven her home in his black Camaro, that he would kiss her, to put a fairytale ending on a perfect night. Sure, he’d kissed her when he dropped her off at her front door… on the cheek, like a brother, or a best friend, might.

Rosalie had dreamt about that night for years afterwards, of what it would be like if he had actually kissed her.

_______________

“I’m sorry, Grandma Rose. I have to go rescue my fiancé from your dear grandson.”

Rosalie stood from the table, feeling a rush in her head for a few seconds. She was definitely tipsier than she thought.

Once Rose got her bearings, she strutted, barefoot, to Derek, who looked highly uncomfortable. With every inch that Nick advanced on Derek, the man backed a considerable distance away.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have an amazing ass?” Rosalie heard Nick flirt from paces away. The way that Nick was looking at Derek, the way that he was blatantly hitting on the man when Nick knew that Derek was taken, it unsettled something in Rosalie. Her vision turned red as she approached the two from behind, wrapping an arm around Derek’s waist.

“Hi Nick. Sorry, this amazing ass is mine.” Rosalie didn’t know what she was saying, didn’t really think through what she was doing. All she knew was that she was grabbing Derek’s right butt cheek with her hand, smiling smugly as Nick’s eyes widened.

Derek waited until Rose’s cousin scurried away before stiffly asking, “Rosalie, why are you grabbing my ass?”

Rosalie let go of Derek immediately, feeling as if she’d spontaneously combust in mortification. “I am, so, so sorry. I just kind of… he was ogling you and it made me mad. Like you’re gorgeous but you’re more than just a pretty face and an incredible ass.” Rosalie’s eyes widened at her word vomit, and now she definitely wanted to throw herself from the nearest balcony and test her drunken theory that she was secretly a mermaid.

“I… I need a drink.”

Derek turned to face her, a hint of a forming chuckle on his lips. “I think you’ve had enough of those, babe.”

Rosalie wished that she could slink away. She wished that someone would hit her in the head, and she’d wake up with amnesia. Maybe she could change her name and move to Antarctica? Yeah, that would be good.

Derek rolled his eyes, grabbing his best friend by the elbow and latching her hand back onto his arm. “I’m not mad at you, Rosalie. Feel free to grab my ass anytime if it makes you feel better.”

Rosalie tried to scowl, but the frown was turning upward with every second. “I hate you so much.”

Derek escorted the two back to Rosalie’s table, where Grandma Rose looked completely unimpressed with the whole shindig. Before they sat, he pulled Rose close and whispered, “I’ll let you grab my ass as long as I can grab yours.”

At that, he pulled out Rosalie’s chair and plopped her down, taking the one next to her. Rose was speechless. Did that actually come out of his mouth? Wait, did he actually want to grab her behind? Yep. Those were his words. Exactly.

Rose’s cheeks flushed a healthy shade of pink. Derek laughed at her slowly coloring face, to which she smacked him on the thigh under the table. Before she could remove her hand, Derek grabbed it and held it between the two of them.

“I always knew the two of you would end up together.” Grandma Rose said wistfully, looking at the couple with soft eyes.

You and everyone else, apparently. Everyone but Derek, Rosalie thought sadly, and tried to shove the painful pang in her heart.

“You know how I knew, Rosalie?” Grandma Rose shakily reached for her flute of champagne, taking a long sip. “I knew it when this one, this big, strong, handsome man,” the old woman reached for Derek’s free hand and patted it kindly, “punched my idiot son in the face at that party, after you got your master’s degree.”

Rosalie snickered at the memory. Jason and Derek had never gotten along. Jason thought Derek was ‘some jock who was too concerned with an unlikely career in basketball instead of his studies’. Derek thought Jason was a ‘pompous, cheating, scumbag, son of a bitch’. (Both quotes were their words exactly)

All of the building tension exploded when Jason had chosen to make a below-the-belt comparison between Rose and Ashleigh’s accomplishments. As if they weren’t celebrating Rosalie graduating from Columbia University, an ivy league, with a master’s degree, with the highest honors.

Derek had broken Jason’s nose. Jason had gotten a restraining order (his favorite defense tactic; it expired last year).

“I’m so sorry,” Derek told Rosalie’s grandmother, though he didn’t sound the least bit remorseful.

“Oh, sweetheart. It wasn’t like every sane person at that party wasn’t thinking the same thing. You were the only one brave enough to do it. Rose’s knight in shining armor.”

Derek’s face flushed red, a rare sight for a man with so much confidence.

“Rosalie, dear. I do have to warn you, Drew and Ashleigh are here.”

Rosalie sighed. She knew that they would be here. The pair had done a very good job at avoiding them; Rose wondered when they’d finally make it around her and Derek’s way. If Rose were lucky, maybe they’d just avoid her the whole trip. Only in her dreams…

“I know, Grandma. I—have you seen them yet?”

“Yes, I had the misfortune of running into both of them while yelling at your father for dragging his ninety-two-year-old mother on an extravagant trip. Do you know how long the plane flight was? Anyways, Drew called me ‘grandma’. You know what I told him, loves?”

Derek and Rosalie looked to each other, both knowing that it was probably something rude. Grandma Rose was Rosalie’s favorite relative, outside of her brother and Lydia. She was the most real of all of them. She spoke her mind and wasn’t afraid to let anyone know how she felt.

“I told him to go fuck himself.”

Derek choked on his glass of white wine. Rosalie smacked him on the back a few times, unable to hold in her shaking laughter.

“Yes, I told dear old Drew to go fuck himself. The only man that’s allowed to call me that is Derek. He doesn’t have his head up his ass. He sees how beautiful, wonderful, and deserving of love my real granddaughter is.”

All jokes aside, Grandma Rose’s words warmed Rosalie’s heart. At least one of the extended family members didn’t think she was a disgrace.

“Well, kids. Would you look at that? The pompous son of a bitch wants to go blab about himself. Someone should go tell him to shut up.”

Rosalie looked to the small stage at the front of the lounge. Sure enough, there was her father, Jason, dressed to the nines in a likely customized Hugo Boss suit, a pink Hibiscus sticking out of his breast pocket. Jason looked around at the crowd, clearing his throat to get the attention of his guests.

“Welcome, everyone! I’m so glad that you’re here and could join me on this fantastic excursion…”

Jason continued his schpeal and Rosalie tuned him out. He was likely talking about how great he was for paying for everyone’s accommodations, or how lucky they were to be spending time with him on this 1K-a-night cruise. Rosalie had heard it all before, multiple times, and she was sick of it, frankly.

What was it about rich people’s money that made them think that they were gods and should be treated as such?

Derek squeezed Rosalie’s hand hard, his nails digging into the back of her hand.

She looked to him in explanation, but he only nodded his head towards the stage.

Where Drew was shepherding Ashleigh up the steps, his hand resting on her backside.

“Yes, as I said, we have two exciting announcements that Evelyn and I could not wait to share with you tonight.”

Jason looked fondly towards Ashleigh and Drew, who were now hobbling towards him. There were resounding gasps and excited squeals, but Rosalie could only focus on Drew.

Drew was still as handsome as the day that she had first met him. His blue eyes sparkled with confidence and charm. He’d grown a beard since Rosalie had seen him last, wafts of brown hair covering his strong jaw. He stood behind Ashleigh, his hands moving to rest on her stomach, and that’s when time stood still.

Because, under Drew’s lithe fingers, was a protruding bump. Rosalie, despite herself, couldn’t help the gasp that formed around her lips, nor the shaking of her hands.

Drew, when he was with her, had told Rosalie that he didn’t want kids. He’d had daddy issues too and didn’t want his offspring to grow up with a messed-up dad. Even though Rosalie desperately wanted a family, she was so in love with Drew that she’d put those dreams aside, for him.

Now, Drew stood proudly cradling his pregnant fiancée’s stomach as he spoke sweet nothings into her ear, looking thrilled to become a dad.

Derek squeezed Rosalie’s hand tightly, then removed it to wrap around her shoulders instead, nestling her into him. Derek’s lips brushed the top of Rose’s head, then her forehead.

“Fuck, Rosie. I’m so sorry. I… he didn’t deserve you. You’re better off without him. Do you want to go?” Derek whispered huskily in Rosalie’s ear, breaths coming out shallowly.

Rosalie didn’t need to feel the tenseness of his arm around her to know that he was pissed. She could tell just by the tone of his voice that he wanted to kill Drew.

Rosalie turned her head so that now her lips would be close to his ear. “I… I should have known. I—No, we need to stay. If I leave now, then Ashleigh and Evelyn will know that they’ve won, and I can’t let that happen.”

Rosalie rested her head on Derek’s shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace.

Someone kicked her leg under the table. Rosalie raised her head to look at Derek questioningly. His expression matched her own.

“Rosalie? Dear, are you here?” Jason called from the stage, his snake-like grey eyes checking the crowd for his daughter.

“She’s here, you pompous prick!” Grandma Rose yelled to her son, shoving Rosalie gently with a hand to her back. From a distance, Rosalie heard Stiles guffaw. She imagined that Lydia smacked him in the head while trying to control her own laughter.

Jason scowled, but ignored his mother, watching with a forced smile as his daughter and her ‘fiancé’ ascended the stairs. Derek had a tight hold around Rosalie, who had forgone her shoes in the shock of the moment. She leaned on him, both physically and metaphorically, for strength.

“Some more good news for my daughters. Somehow, someone managed to put a ring on my dear little Rosalie. Yes, it shocked us, too. Good on you, Derek!” Jason looked to Rosalie’s bare feet. “And it seems he doesn’t mind her habit for walking around barefoot. Welcome to the family, Derek Hale!”

Most of the crowd laughed, Evelyn and Ashleigh’s shrill merriment sticking out the most. Derek held Rosalie tighter. She bit the inside of her lip in an attempt to stay strong.

From Jason’s other side, Drew asked, “Wait. Isn’t that the guy who broke your nose?”

Derek rested his forehead on the side of Rose’s head, huffing into her ear “Yes. That was me. And if you don’t shut up, I’ll break your nose, too, you douche”.

That made her chuckle, and with his arms securely around her, Rose knew that she’d be alright as long as Derek was by her side.

#teen wolf #derek hale #derek hale fic #derek hale fanfiction #derek hale x oc #tyler hoechlin #derek hale au #derek hale fluff

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kit-just-kit · 3 years

Note

“I have to get back out there.”

Storyteller sentence starters

She’d felt it coming for days now, like the slow approach of a creeping demon - inching it’s way into their lives until it burst right through the crux of it.

James had been restless, bordering on highly-strung for someone who was usually so laid back and laconic. Once the initial flurry of excitement over the pregnancy had subsided and he was left with the banalities - midwife appointments, occasional morning sickness, the moaning after she’d not slept well - she could tell it was getting to him. In fact, if there were some way she could escape it all for a few weeks, she so very would!

“I thought you might be saying that to me.....sooner or later. And it’s okay, we’ve probably used up all of Gareth’s good graces in favours and, after all, you are still listed for active duty. So.....”.

She held her breath as she spoke, barely able to conceive of herself saying this to him.

“You should go...take the mission. It’s what they pay you for”. She wasn’t going to cry, not now, not this time.

“Just um.....try and get back soon? Next scan is in four weeks....they should be able to tell the sex by then and um....I would really like you there for it. And then after, we can start telling people our news”.

Up to that point, there was only one other person outside of medical fields who knew. And he hadn’t seemed too chuffed at the idea of potentially losing his best resource.

“My parents, the kids.....Felix, if you want to.....”.

Her voice had cracked slightly on the mention of James’ friends name and she very much hoped he hadn’t heard it.

#thepropertyofalady #kit+james

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cyborgsquirrel · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary: Chapter 6

Pairing: Wolfstar

Summary: The epic tale of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, from their first meeting until their happily ever after.

Link to Prologue

Link to All Chapters

Thursday, 2nd September 1971, 11:42 am

'Self-inflating, unpoppable, animal balloons,' James said, producing a fluorescent orange box from his trunk and waving it in the air like a Quidditch seeker who'd just caught the snitch. 'We're going to fill the Great Hall with them tonight!'

'The whole room?' Peter asked. 'We'll need a lot of balloons.'

'Not as many as you might think, my good man.' James slapped his hand down on Peter's shoulder, making him wince. 'These balloons blow up to ten times life-size and I have 5000. That should be plenty.'

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck. When he got up to mischief at home, he didn't plan it. His pranks were spur-of-the-moment; potential consequences never entered his mind until after. But this was different. This allowed him the time to think, and he was thinking about what would happen if someone caught them.

It was making him a little nauseous.

His mother was a powerful witch, and her punishments could be brutal, but she may as well have been a first-year next to the teachers of Hogwarts. There was no telling what they might do. He knew they gave "detentions," but he didn't know what that would entail. James and Peter didn't seem concerned though, and he didn't want them to think him a coward.

'There'll be riots if people can't reach the food,' Sirius said.

That was good. It was neither for nor against the plan. Merely an observation. It could be taken either way.

'But if we do it tonight, we'll be knackered for Defence tomorrow.'

A reasonable objection, he thought.

'Excellent point,' James said, pointing at him. 'I'm looking forward to Defence, don't want to be too tired to enjoy it. Operation inflatable breakfast is hereby postponed until tomorrow night.' He jumped on the bed next to Sirius. 'But we should still prank someone now, too. Any ideas?'

Sirius' heart sank. There was no putting him off. He would have to go through with the prank or risk losing his friendship. There was only one choice, really. The alternative was unthinkable. But, if they did something mild and got caught, at least he would have some idea of what to expect from the school punishments.

'What else do you have?' Sirius asked.

James leapt off the bed and dashed back over to his trunk.

'A few firecrackers, five dungbombs and some nose-biting teacups.'

James pulled each item out as he spoke, placing them on his bed, and Sirius ambled over to examine them.

'Not much to work with.'

Sirius poked at the dungbombs.

'Suppose we could set these off right outside the Slytherin common room.'

'Do you know where the entrance is?' Peter asked, joining the others in staring at the items laid out on James' bed.

'No, but we can find out if we follow some Slytherins.'

James started digging around in his trunk again.

'They'll see us and won't go in,' Sirius said.

'I have something that will help, but you need to swear to keep it secret first.'

James stared at them with an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. He glanced back and forth between Peter and Sirius. They both promised, and James pulled out a cloak made from a fluid-like, silvery material.

'What is it?' Peter asked, stretching out a hand to touch the shimmering fabric.

'Watch,' James said.

He swung the cloak around his shoulders, and his body vanished, leaving his head floating around in mid-air, plastered with a ridiculous grin.

Sirius gasped, 'No way!' at the same time as he heard a squeak from Peter standing behind him.

James' grin widened, putting his face in grave danger of breaking in half.

'It's been in my family for generations. Dad gave it to me for my last birthday.'

'Pranking will be a breeze with that,' Sirius said in a tone laced with awe.

'I know! Pete, grab the dungbombs. We should all be able to fit under here. Bring the firecrackers too. We can use them to set off the dungbombs.'

The boys crowded together under the cloak to test it and found they could all fit if they crammed together, but the confines of the cloak made walking difficult. After ten minutes of practise, they found a workable rhythm, and they stuffed the cloak in James' bag before racing down to the dungeons.

-o-o-o-o-

They lurked in the dungeons under the cloak for forty-five minutes before seeing a group of giggling Slytherin girls heading away from the Great Hall. Sirius, being the tallest of the three, was in the middle, and he was getting rather sweaty from being surrounded by the body heat of his friends.

They followed the girls at a distance until they paused in front of a blank stretch of wall, before disappearing through it.

'That must be it,' James said, before throwing the cloak off and running over. 'Hand me a dung bomb and a firecracker, Pete.'

Sirius stuffed the invisibility cloak into his bag, and Peter handed both James and Sirius a dungbomb and a firecracker. James showed them how to combine the items and set the firecrackers for delayed detonation. They worked fast, setting up the five dungbombs in concealed locations around the entrance to explode ten minutes later. They planned to be well away by then.

Finished, they turned and broke into a run towards the Great Hall; they were almost there when they turned a corner and ran straight into Mr Filch, the school caretaker.

'Well, well, well. What do we have here?'

Sirius' stomach dropped into his shoes.

'Three trouble-makers up to mischief, no doubt. Running from the scene of the crime, are we?'

'No, sir. We're, um, we're just, um, going to lunch!' Peter stammered.

James was offering his most innocent expression, wide-eyed with a grin the size of a Quidditch pitch and nodding along with Peter's stilted explanation for their hurry.

'A likely story. You three will come with me. I'll have you strung up by your ankles. That'll teach you to muck up my school with your filth.'

The word "filth" sent chills through Sirius' body. His mother used the term so often in her rants that his mind associated it with pain and fear. He went into a panic. The room was spinning around him, his heart was pounding and he couldn't breathe.

'Sirius, are you okay?' James said, moving in front of him and grabbing his arms.

Sirius focused on his friend's face and tried to calm down. He stared into his eyes, deep pools of swirling brown with specks of green. As he watched, the colours solidified and came into focus. His breathing evened out, and he was able to speak.

'Yeah. I think so. But what's he going to do to us?' Sirius breathed.

James let go of his arms.

'Nothing. We'll get detention if he can prove we did something, but he's not allowed to hurt us.'

James studied him for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth, searching for something. Sirius wasn't sure what.

'We'll talk about this later, okay?'

Sirius nodded and the three boys followed Filch down the corridors to his office.

Inside the spacious room, there was a desk with four chairs lined up in front of it and one much larger and more comfortable chair behind it. Along the walls were filing cabinets, several rows of them, stacked up to the ceiling. Someone had labelled them all, though Sirius couldn't make out the words. The room was lit by a single oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, which cast eerie shadows in the corners. Sirius shivered. A deep sense of unease filled him when he spotted the chains and manacles hanging from the wall behind the desk. He rubbed his wrists, recalling the soreness such things caused after spending three days chained up in the dungeon at home.

Filch told them to sit down and moved behind the desk, pulling out parchment from the desk drawer before seating himself. He muttered under his breath as he filled out three forms, recording their crimes. He was just finishing up the third when the sound of a distant explosion, followed by screams, reached their ears. The boys all glanced at each other.

'What did you do?' Filch asked, sneering. 'Stay here until I get back.'

The moment the caretaker left the room, James was on his feet and scanning the filing cabinets.

'Quickly, men! We only have a few minutes. See what you can find,' he said.

Sirius leapt from his seat. This was more like it, the type of spur-of-the-moment mischief he was used to. He ran his hand over the fronts of the cabinets as he read the labels. Most were labelled with letters of the alphabet. Records organised by surname, Sirius assumed. One drawer was labelled "The Prewetts." Sirius pulled it open and found stacks of detention slips for the same two boys. They ranged from September 1965 to the most recent, which were dated that morning. Filch had apparently caught the two trouble-makers charming the suits of armour in the dungeons to attack Slytherins. Sirius grinned. They sounded like his kind of people.

'Guys! Over here. Look!' James said.

Sirius hurried over to where James was pointing at a filing cabinet on the back wall. Squinting at the label in the dismal light, he read "Confiscated and Highly Dangerous."

'Nice one. Let's grab something quick. He'll be back soon.' Sirius said.

Peter walked over to the door and cracked it open to peek out while James pulled the drawer open and rooted through it.

'He's coming!' Peter hissed, closing the door and rushing back to his seat.

James snatched something small from the drawer, shoved it in his pocket and grabbed Sirius' arm, dragging him back to his seat.

The boys sat down with seconds to spare. Filch stormed into the office looking murderous and slammed the door closed behind him.

'Dungbombs in the corridor, stinking up the entire castle. You'll pay for this. Yes, you will. You just wait until Professor McGonagall hears about it.'

He continued muttering as he filled out a second set of detention slips with their details and sent them on their way. Sirius still felt a fluttery feeling in his stomach when he thought about what the detentions might involve, despite James' reassurance that it wouldn't be painful. He pushed the worry to the back of his mind. He would face it when it happened.

-o-o-o-o-

Remus was sitting in the shade of an ancient oak tree, his back against the trunk and his knees bent. His Defence textbook rested on his thighs, creating a hard surface on which to write. In his hand, he held a quill, and an inkpot rested in a convenient recess in the ground beside him. He had been staring at the blank parchment for several minutes, trying to decide how much of his Hogwarts experience to include in the letter to his mum.

Coming to a decision, he dipped his quill in the ink and began his letter. He wrote steadily for a few minutes, then read it through, scratched out a sentence here and a word there, added another paragraph, then removed it again. When he was satisfied with his account of events, he pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and copied the revised letter out neatly.

Mum,

I'm having a wonderful time here at Hogwarts. It's everything I always imagined it would be. When we arrived, the first years were taken to the castle by boat across a giant lake. The castle looked so beautiful in the starlight. We were sorted into our houses by a talking hat. Seriously, I'm not kidding. The hat has the ability to see into, and speak into, the mind of the person wearing it. It knew my secret but promised not to tell, and it said I was brave. It placed me in Gryffindor house, which I told you would be the best house for me to be in, I don't know if you remember?

I'm in a dormitory with three other boys. It's a good-size room though, lots of space, so it's easy to avoid bumping into each other. The bathroom has four shower cubicles, so there's plenty of privacy. You know I was worried about people seeing my scars. I had a meeting with Professor Dumbledore this morning; he told me the arrangements for Sunday, and it all sounds very well thought out and safe. I'll tell you more after, though. Professor Dumbledore has also given me access to the kitchens, so I don't have to eat in the Great Hall. Wasn't that kind of him?

My first lesson this morning was Transfiguration. It was a basic theory lesson, and I didn't learn much that I didn't already know. But Professor McGonagall said something interesting when she was warning us of the dangers of attempting magic above our ability. She said that our magical cores act as an immune system, and they have to shut down once a month to cleanse themselves. Apparently, this happens during the full moon. I thought you might find that as interesting as I did.

I have had no other lessons yet, and I was surprised at first by how many free periods are scheduled into the timetable, but when I thought about it, I realised it was necessary. Six hours of continuous magic casting would be exhausting, I expect our timetables will be fuller in later years when we're stronger. I have double Potions this afternoon. I'm not really looking forward to Potions. I hope the ingredients don't smell too bad; you know how sensitive my nose is.

It's lunchtime now, so I'm off to visit the kitchen for some food. I'll write to you again soon.

Love you lots,

Remus

Remus read the letter through again and was satisfied that his meaning was clear enough for his mum to understand, while still being subtle enough that if anyone else read it, they wouldn't be able to guess he was a werewolf. There was also just enough negativity in the letter that it wouldn't seem like he was pretending to be happy. He rolled the parchment into a scroll and sealed it before putting his things away and climbing to his feet, tucking the letter into his pocket as he did.

As Remus climbed the stairs to the Owlery, he found himself wishing that he knew how to fly. He was fairly certain he'd climbed more stairs since arriving at Hogwarts the day before than he had in the entire rest of his life combined. When he reached the summit, he collapsed to the floor and stayed there for several minutes, reminding his lungs how to breathe.

Once the feeling had returned to his legs and he was no longer gasping, he entered the circular room and searched the rafters for Rieka. She spotted him first though, and flew down to land on his shoulder, nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck and greeting him with a low whistle.

'Hey, Rieka, how do you like the owlery?'

She hooted softly and nuzzled him again.

'Good, I'm glad you're happy here.' He pulled the letter from his pocket. 'I need you to take this to Mum, okay?'

Rieka hooted again and flew over to the perch in the centre of the room so Remus could tie the letter to her leg.

'Well, look at what we have here. A little baby Gryffindor. All alone,' a voice drawled from the entrance.

Remus whipped around. It was another first-year - greasy-hair, hooked nose - his name sounded like snake. What was it? Remus wracked his brains but couldn't remember.

'What do you want?' he asked.

The boy's tone had been aggressive, and it unnerved him. His heart raced in his chest, and his palms felt sweaty.

'Oh, nothing difficult, I assure you. I wouldn't want to tax your tiny Gryffindor mind. Just a little lesson in where you belong. Depulso!'

A blinding white light shot from the end of the boy's wand and hit Remus square in the chest, causing him to fly back into a heap of owl pellets, feathers and animal carcasses, piled up at the edge of the room.

'And don't you forget it.'

The boy turned, no doubt intending to sweep dramatically from the room in a flurry of robes, but Rieka had other ideas. She flew from the perch and out of a window, wheeled around and dived at the boy, claws outstretched to attack. He lifted his arms in defence of his face and stumbled back, away from the angry bird. Rieka's talons tore shreds in his arms, and the boy screamed in pain, stumbling further until he too landed in the pile of owl detritus.

'Get the hell away from me, you crazy bird!' the boy shouted, pulling himself to his feet and rushing out of the door.

Rieka hopped over to Remus and hooted.

'I'm okay. Thanks for sticking up for me, girl.'

Remus stroked her head before dragging himself to his feet and inspecting his robes. They were filthy, covered in feathers and slime from the rotting carcasses, Remus gagged at the stench.

'I better get cleaned up before potions.' He turned to Rieka. 'I'll see you when you get back.'

Rieka hooted again and flew out the door, and Remus followed.

-o-o-o-o-

'I think we should allow three hours to blow up the balloons. We probably won't need that long, but better to have too much time than not enough,' James said, pacing back and forth in front of Sirius' bed like an Auror captain planning a raid.

Sirius was sitting on the bed next to Peter, listening to James run through his plan for the following night's entertainment.

'So, leave the dorm around one in the morning then.' Sirius said. 'The prefects will be finished with their patrols by then, and we'll be back in the dorm well before any teachers should be getting up.'

'Yes. I'll set my alarm and wake you up.' James pointed at Sirius. 'You'll be with me. We'll open the balloons and let them loose in the hall. Pete will stay by the door under the cloak and keep a lookout.'

The door to the dorm opened, interrupting their planning session, and Remus walked in covered in feathers and something slimy that smelled like death. All three boys stared at him.

'What the hell happened to you?' Sirius asked.

Remus glanced at him.

'I don't want to talk about it,' he muttered before grabbing a clean set of robes from his trunk and hurrying into the bathroom.

Sirius stared at the closed door for a moment. Should he go talk to him or leave him alone? Remus had no positive feelings towards him and probably wouldn't want to open up to a person he disliked. But this might be the opportunity he was waiting for to show Remus he wasn't a complete asshole. Sirius was vaguely aware of James continuing his instructions for the prank but was too focused on Remus to listen. Why was he covered in feathers? Had he fallen over in the owlery or had someone attacked him? He was on the verge of getting up to try his luck when Remus exited the bathroom.

'Mate, tell us what happened?' Sirius said.

'I'm not your mate, Black. You made it clear what you thought of me yesterday by the lake.'

Remus stepped over to his trunk and retrieved his cauldron and potion's kit from inside.

'If you don't bother me, I won't bother you,' he said, his voice calm, before strolling out of the dorm and closing the door behind him. Not even bothering to slam it.

He wasn't angry, Remus just hated him. Fuck.

'Well, that went well,' James said.

Sirius threw his pillow at him, scoring a direct hit in the face.

'Shut up,' he said. 'How am I supposed to fix this when he won't even speak to me?'

'I don't understand why you're bothering at all, mate. He seems a bit stuck up to me.'

'The problem isn't that he's stuck up, it's that he thinks I'm stuck up.'

'So, show him you're not.'

Right, Sirius thought, but how?

-o-o-o-o-

After visiting the kitchens and grabbing a bite to eat, Remus had half an hour left of his lunch break and decided to spend it in the library, getting his Transfiguration homework done before the moon. It was due Monday morning, and he wouldn't be out of the hospital wing until lunchtime at the earliest, so he wanted to hand it in on Friday. Especially since it wouldn't take him long to complete.

His first sight of the library took his breath away. So many books; he was in heaven. The collection took up almost the entire fourth floor of the main building and was spread throughout one vast, irregularly shaped room with several smaller rooms leading off it. He wandered around for a few minutes, reading the signs above the shelves, before settling at a table with a red-headed Gryffindor and pulling out his homework.

'Oh, hi. I recognise you from class this morning. You're the one who knew all the answers.'

Remus' face warmed.

'You got one right too,' he said.

'Not as many as you though. I'm Lily. It's nice to meet you.'

Lily held out her hand for him to shake. Remus almost panicked, but he had prepared for that possibility.

'I'm Remus, but I have a phobia of touching people,' he said, nodding towards her outstretched hand. 'I'm sorry.'

Lily pulled her hand back.

'Oh, no. Don't apologise. You can't help what you're afraid of. I'm terrified of spiders, so I get it.'

'Thanks,' Remus said, giving her a smile before dipping his quill into his inkpot to begin the Transfiguration work.

They worked in companionable silence for fifteen minutes, and Remus was almost finished when he heard Lily greet someone.

'Oh. Hey, Sev.'

'Hello, Lily. I came to show you the way to Potions. I didn't want you to get lost.'

Remus looked up at the voice that had sneered at him so cruelly in the owlery and caught the eye of the greasy-haired boy - Snape. That was his name. He raised an eyebrow at Remus.

'Something I can do for you?'

'No.' He gathered up his things and turned to Lily. 'I'm finished here, I'll see you later.'

Remus hurried away from the table. He had been hoping that he and Lily could be friends, but she was already friends with the boy who had attacked him for no reason, so maybe she wasn't as nice as he thought.

-o-o-o-o-

Sirius, James and Peter were some of the first to arrive at the Potions classroom after lunch and were lucky enough to nab themselves seats at the back of the room. Sirius and James sat together, and Peter sat alone at the desk in front of them.

When the last few stragglers had slipped into their seats, the teacher stood up and waved his wand at the blackboard.

"The basics of potion-making" appeared on the board in excessively curly handwriting. Sirius groaned. Another tedious bloody lesson.

'Good afternoon, class. My name is Professor Slughorn. I hope you have all had yourselves a superb meal because this class will be fairly physical. Today, you'll be learning all the basics involved with potion-making. Who can tell me what those might be?'

Sirius took a peek at Remus on the other side of the room and was surprised to see he didn't have his hand in the air. Instead, he was holding his head in his hands with his elbows on the desk. He nudged James.

'Hey, what do you think is wrong with Remus? He looks ill.'

After glancing over, James shrugged.'Dunno, mate. Maybe he's sick.'

While they were talking, a Slytherin student had answered Slughorn's question - stirring, chopping and stuff, nothing important, - and earned herself five points. Remus was now taking notes while covering his nose with his sleeve. Sirius turned back to listen to the teacher.

'First, you'll be learning how to time the heating of your cauldrons, so please place your cauldrons on the fire pits in the centre of your desks and fetch some water to fill them.'

'You set the cauldrons up, mate. I'll go get the water,' Sirius said.

Sirius wandered over to the closest sink and joined the back of the short queue, finding himself behind Snape. He eyed the boy's greasy hair with distaste but kept his thoughts to himself, not wanting to start anything in the classroom. That resolve changed, though, when Snape reached the front of the line and rolled his sleeves up to keep them dry while he filled a jug for his cauldron. His pale white arms were marred by long vivid-red scratches. The marks were unmistakable. His mother's bastard of a bird had attacked Sirius often enough for him to recognise owl talon marks when he saw them. The injuries were severe and Sirius could only think of one reason Snape wouldn't have gone to the hospital wing for treatment. Because he had been doing something wrong when it happened. Sirius had been accused of many things in his brief life, but being slow wasn't one of them. It took him but a moment to put together the gashes on Snape's arms with the memory of Remus arriving back at the dorm covered in feathers and realise the truth. Snape had attacked his Remus. And that was unacceptable.

He returned to his desk with a full jug of water, seething. After explaining to James and Peter what he had seen and deduced, they all agreed that Snape's behaviour could not go unpunished, bullying would not be tolerated. They finished setting up their cauldrons before concocting a plan.

When everyone was ready, Professor Slughorn started to speak again.

'Now, almost every potion recipe calls for at least one timed period of heating, and it's very important to time it to the second. Even a second or two out, either way, can ruin a potion. Your desks are fitted with a timing charm. If you look, you will see a circle carved into the bottom corners of each desk.'

Slughorn paused to allow everyone to locate their timer. Sirius looked down at his desk and found the circle, and he could see James doing the same on his side of the desk.

'If you tap the circle once with your wand, it will light up to show a clock face. Tap it again while saying the length of time you need to set it for and tap a third time to start the timer. Test it now. Please set your timers for five seconds.'

Sirius took out his wand and tapped the circle. It lit up with white light, showing a clock face with black numbers and three black hands. He tapped again and said, 'Five seconds.' The thinnest and longest of the three hands moved to the one. He tapped a third time, and the hand ticked back to the twelve, one increment at a time, before flashing randomly in a multitude of colours.

'As you can see, the alarm is silent to avoid disturbing other students, so you will need to watch your timer. It is advisable to set your timer in advance so you need only tap it once when you begin heating.'

Professor Slughorn moved to stand behind his demonstration area, which he had already set up with his own cauldron.

'Now onto the actual heating. The fire pits in your desks are fitted with heating and cooling charms because you won't learn the spells for fire until third-year. Once you have learned them, of course, I will expect you to use them in this class. If you look down at your desks again, you will see five symbols carved in front of the fire pit. The first is "extinguish." This, rather obviously, extinguishes any fire in the pit. The second symbol is "low heat."'

He tapped his wand on his own desk, and a small fire sprang up under his cauldron.

'The third is "medium heat."'

He tapped his wand again, and the fire got a little bigger.

'The fourth is "high heat."'

He tapped his wand a third time, and the fire roared higher, licking at the sides of the cauldron with long orange flames.

'And the fifth is "cold-fire."'

He tapped his wand one more time, and the fire shrank and turned ice blue.

'Simply tap your wands on the symbols to activate the fire and tap your wand on the extinguish symbol to put the fire out. Cold-fire should be used for a period of five to ten seconds after each and every time you heat your potion. This will rapidly cool the potion so it does not overheat.'

He tapped his wand on his desk again, and the fire beneath his cauldron went out.

'It is not necessary to be overly precise with the timing of cold-fire, although too long is far preferable to not long enough. Now, I would like you all to practise using the heating charms and timer together until you're confident that you can do it quickly without fumbling.'

Sirius had a lot of fun playing with the heating charms, repeatedly bringing his water to a boil before rapidly cooling it with cold-fire. He eventually decided to practice with the timer and got the hang of it easily, it was simply a matter of moving his wand smoothly between the timer and the fire symbol. He found it was easier if he positioned his wand above the timer and then found the correct fire symbol with his eyes before tapping. James and Peter both seemed to master the skill just as easily. After a few minutes, Peter turned around to talk to Sirius and James.

'These automatic heating charms are cool, right?' James asked. 'I wonder if we can figure out how they did it. We could use them to set off pranks. If we could link a charm to a symbol on the other side of the castle, then we could set it off when we're nowhere near it. No one would ever know it was us.'

'The symbols are runes, I think. But I don't know how you would link it up to a charm,' Sirius said.

Professor Slughorn coughed to get the class's attention.

'We'll be moving on to ingredient preparation next, but please leave your cauldrons where they are as we will be using them again later. Now, take out your potions kits and remove the jar labelled nettle roots.'

The next hour of class dragged as they learned how to correctly slice, chop, grind and shred ingredients. The time to take revenge on Snape arrived at last when Slughorn handed out vials of unfinished swelling solution and asked them to pour it into their cauldrons so they could practise the skill of infusing a potion with pure magic.

Sirius felt a nudge against his thigh under the table and reached his hand to grip the thick tube James was handing him. He grinned at his friend before preparing the firecracker - the last of their supply - and waiting for Slughorn to turn his back. As soon as he did, Sirius launched the explosive through the air, over the heads of other students, and it landed with a splash in Snape's cauldron. He stared at it for a moment, stunned, before it erupted in a series of pops and bangs, splattering the boy with potion. The places where the potion hit immediately swelled, distorting his face and body into grotesque shapes. The red-headed Gryffindor next to him screamed and started trying to wipe it off, which only spread the potion, causing more swelling. Sirius, James and Peter were bent over laughing, Sirius had tears in his eyes.

Snivellus deserved it for hurting his Remus. Maybe he'd think twice next time.

Chapter 7

#fanfiction #harrypotter #marauders #wolfstar

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mitsususu · 4 years

Text

Something strange is in the air, and things are going to get explicit. Below are my Top 5 Favorite stories:

“jamais vu” (E, 13k) by Claudia_flies

They’re all gathered in the top floor private conference room because Tony wants to set up a Strike team, and he’s making some really excellent points. The Avengers aren’t a stealth operation, Steve has to admit.

He just doesn’t like it.

+ Shrunkyclunks A/B/O. Reposted because it damn well deserves to be first in this list too. Sex pollen, mutual voyeurism/exhibition, sex buddies, heat partners, and feels

-☆-

“As The Rush Comes” (E, 4k) by HandsAcrossTheSea

Raiding a HYDRA op, Steve and Bucky take on a little more than they bargained for.

+ Post WS. A sex fest on the plane, in bed, against the wall, over, sideways, and under

-☆-

“Steve, are you blowing the Winter Soldier?” (E, 1k) by omgbubblesomg

Bucky gets hit with a sex curse during a mission

+ Post WS. Transcript format. Steve manages to turn off his comms, what a shame Bucky didn’t!

-☆-

“Minimal Property Damage” (E, 6k) by Nejinee

Everyone assumes Bucky's super soldier body will process the gas that's gone and driven others mad with sexual hysteria. Everyone assumes the evil scientists messed up and Bucky's okay. Everyone assumes wrong because no one ever thinks about Steven Grant Rogers.

+ Post WS. Once Bucky is reunited with Steve, the goal is fuck and get fucked

-☆-

“Strung Out, Wrung Out” (E, 3k) by sassbandit

Steve went running into an evil science lab without backup and now he's been sex pollened. Bucky has to babysit him and he's cranky about it. That's it, that's the fic.

+ Post WS. Steve gets his prostate milked

-☆-

-☆- And an adjacent freebie -☆-

“Fluff” (E, 15k) by MoreThanSlightly

“Dr. Foster, this is a tower full of highly trained soldiers, spies, and geniuses. If we can’t track down and subdue a frith—um, small Asgardian mammal, then nobody can,” Steve says. He tries to look reassuring. It must not be working. She’s still looking around like it might pop out at any moment.

“Frithrkottr,” she says. She takes a deep breath and tucks some errant strands of hair behind her ear. “It’s furry. Kitten-sized.”

“A real cause for panic,” he says, trying to make her smile.

She doesn’t look calmed.

+ Post WS. Cuddle pollen! All the lovey dovey feelings you’ll ever want

-☆-

*More Stucky Recs here

#stucky #stucky fic #Claudia_flies #HandsAcrossTheSea #omgbubblesomg #Nejinee #sassbandit #MoreThanSlightly #fic rec #Top 5 Favs

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wistfulcynic · 5 years

Text

Osaka-shi Serenade 1 / 4

This is the most personal thing I’ve ever written. I just need to say that up front. It is personal because it is basically the story of how my husband and I met and fell in love, tweaked for Captain Swan. It... works surprisingly well, actually. I had no idea I was living in a romcom until @thisonesatellite accused me of having a “meet-cute.” But I have to admit, she has a point. It was kinda cute. It’s MUCH CUTER with Killian and Emma, though, because you know what those two are like.

I also have to accuse thank @captainsjedi and @teamhook among others for insisting that this was a good idea, and genuinely thank @distant-rose and @thisonesatellite for beta-ing like champs and the treasures they are. Also tagging @thejollyroger-writer @winterbaby89 @shireness-says @searchingwardrobes @darkcolinodonorgasm and @kmomof4 because they were foolish enough to ask for it (and also @katie-dub because she is the best). If anyone else is feeling foolish and would like a tag, please let me know.

Summary: When Emma Swan’s high school sweetheart betrays her she runs away, as far as she can get… all the way to Japan. She tells herself it’s not running, it’s an adventure, but when she meets a handsome Englishman as broken as she is, will she be brave enough to embark on a new adventure with him?

Rating: M (for later chapters)

On AO3

Part One:

She wasn’t running away.

Well okay she was technically, but she was also going on an adventure and that sounded a hell of a lot better.

Plus the fact that the interviews had been held in Boston which would normally be too far to expect her rickety Bug to travel and too expensive to get the train on her waitress income, but that they were held on a day she just happened to have plans to be in Boston anyway, catching a ride with Ruby on her annual shopping trip and spa day, well that had to be fate.

And who was she to argue with fate?

The same fate that had seen her pass the last class she needed for her BA just in time to allow her to check that final box on the application form, to qualify for the visa that she needed for the job that would take her as far away from Neal Cassidy as she could reasonably get without leaving the planet.

There weren’t English language schools on Mars or she would have fucking considered it.

But Japan was far enough really, and as she stood in the Osaka airport fighting off jet lag and trying to make sense of the signs that really may as well have been in Martian for all the help they offered her in finding where she needed to go to catch the damn bus, she wasn’t entirely certain she hadn’t landed on another planet after all.

It was all so different.

Just as she was about to give up in despair, curl up on her suitcase and take a nap in the middle of the goddamn arrivals hall she heard someone speaking her name.

“Emma Swan?”

Emma turned to see a young woman with a clipboard and an expression of polite inquiry.

“That’s me.”

The woman smiled coolly, making a decisive movement of her pen on the clipboard. “I’m Belle, I’m here to take you to the bus.”

“Oh thank God.”

Belle looked up and her smile warmed. “Yeah it can be disconcerting at first,” she said. “Don’t worry you’ll soon get used to things. We’re just waiting for one more person then we’ll head for the bus stop. Here’s your ticket. Don’t lose it.”

Emma clutched the small ticket tightly, noticing even in her highly sleep deprived state that beneath the Martian letters there was a small illustration of a bus.

Helpful, she thought.

She swayed on her feet and allowed the airport to blur around her as Belle’s voice said “Walsh Ozman?” and she vaguely noted the presence of a gangly man about her age. He gave her a once-over and a leer that she would have found inappropriate even when she hadn’t spent the past twenty four hours marinating in plane grunge, and Emma was just too tired and too overwhelmed for that kind of bullshit. She turned her back on him, picked up her suitcase, hoisted her carry-on onto her shoulder, and followed Belle out of the airport into the muggy Japanese night.

The air smelled different here, thought Emma.

The bus ride into the city was excruciatingly long, the scenery insanely confusing. All the buildings looked alike, tall and grey and adorned with balconies on every floor, their railings strewn with plants and strung with laundry, and Emma began to panic. She was a small town girl after all, despite the occasional weekend in Boston, and she’d never been in a city like this before.

What if I get lost?

She breathed deeply to calm herself and tried to focus on Belle’s words. You’ll soon get used to things. Emma hoped like hell she was right.

Walsh leaned over the back of her seat bringing his face way too close, breathing rank breath over her cheek. “So. Where you from?” he asked, in a voice she supposed he thought was sexy.

“Maine,” she said shortly, not looking at him.

“Cool,” he said. “Lobsters. I’m from Fresno. That’s in California.”

“I know.”

“Northern California,” he elaborated as though she hadn’t spoken, winking at her.

Emma ignored him, pulling her scarf up over her nose to filter out the smell of his breath and pretending to go to sleep. She imagined she didn’t smell too great either after flying across the freaking Pacific Ocean (not to mention the whole of the USA) but really you’d think the asshole could at least brush his teeth before hitting on her.

When they finally arrived at the bus terminal Emma thought she had managed to sleep a little bit. They were met by a dark-haired man who introduced himself as August and smirked as he spoke Japanese to the bus driver, and by a cheerful, petite woman with an accent Emma had never heard before who told them to call her Tink.

“Don’t ask,” she said with a laugh. “At least not yet. I’ll tell you the story someday over a beer.”

“You two are gonna be living on different subway lines,” said August, and Emma breathed a small sigh of relief. “Emma, you’re on the Sennichimae line, that’s the pink line, so you go that way.” He pointed to their left. “Tink will go with you and help you get settled in, give you your keys and everything. Walsh, you’re on the red line, Midosuji, so you come with me.”

Emma was immensely glad to find herself with Tink, who was bubbly and cheerful though sometimes Emma wasn’t entirely sure what she was saying.

“Where are you from?” she asked as they sat in the subway car, wincing a bit to herself as she repeated Walsh’s question. Without the smarmy intonation, she hoped.

“Oh, I’m a Kiwi.”

“A what?” Emma frowned at the image of Tink as a fuzzy brown fruit. Maybe exhaustion was making her hallucinate, she thought. That could happen, right?

Tink laughed. “I’m from New Zealand.”

“Oh, wow. Is it really cliché if I mention Lord of the Rings right now?”

“Yep. But don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

They got off the subway at Imazato station.

“Remember that name,” said Tink. “If you ever need to get a taxi home, don’t try to give them your address. Just tell them the name of the subway station, it’s a lot easier.” She pointed to a building across the street from the station entrance. “That one’s yours.”

Emma noted with relief that it wasn’t a skyscraper, though still far taller than any building in Storybrooke. It was also painted off white, with the balconies in red. It was pretty.

“Does every place have a balcony?” she asked Tink.

“Oh, yeah. It’s the only way to get some outside space in the city. People use them for growing pot plants, drying laundry, all sorts of things.” She led Emma into the building and pressed the button to summon the elevator. “You’re on the fifth floor, so you can walk up if you want, but…”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed. “Maybe some other time.”

“You’ve got two flatmates but they’re at work, they both work the night shift,” said Tink, opening the door. “The MM Centre is open 24 hours.”

“Yeah, they told me I’m working the 3-11 pm shift, but I was a waitress for years so I’m used to those kind of hours.”

“Mm hmm,” said Tink, but she was distracted, looking around the room. “They should have… ah yes here, they’ve left you a note. And a towel, that’s thoughtful. I suppose you didn’t bring a towel.”

“Um, no,” said Emma.

“Most of us don’t. It’s one of those things you just don’t think you’ll need. But you’ve got bedding supplied for you, a futon and some sheets.”

The apartment’s front door opened into a short hallway with the bathroom door leading off to the right and the main living space in front. The main room was sparsely furnished with a plain, worn sofa and a television sitting on a small table. A sink, refrigerator, and kitchen cabinets lined one wall and a dining table with three chairs stood along the one perpendicular to it. Emma noted to her relief that there was also a microwave. Red curtains hung at the sides of the large sliding glass door that separated the room from the balcony, and there were three other doors, also sliding ones, made of thin slats of wood that criss-crossed each other to form small window-like squares which held what looked like thick, cream-coloured paper.

Tink slid open one of the these doors and gestured to the room behind it. “This one’s yours.”

Emma’s eyes widened as she took in the room. It was small and simple, the walls a basic off-white, but it had big windows on two of its walls, a spacious looking closet behind more of the thin wooden doors, and the floor was covered with densely woven straw mats. The air inside smelled fresh and sort of grassy, like a late summer day in a hay field. It made Emma feel peaceful.

“You really lucked out with this place,” said Tink. “Really close to the station, and you’ve got tatami in all of the bedrooms. A lot of the apartments NOVA puts us in have lino floors and they are nowhere near as nice. Gross in the summer. Sticky.”

Emma nodded, wanting to ask Tink how long she’d been in Japan but when she opened her mouth all that came out was a jaw-cracking yawn.

Tink laughed. “I’ll let you settle in now and get some sleep. Here’s your starter pack.” She handed Emma a blue folder with her name on the front. “There’s instructions for how to put the futon together and also a map of the city and a subway map and directions to the Centre. You’ve got nothing scheduled for tomorrow, which is actually now today, but on Monday you need to be at the Centre at nine to start your orientation. All the info’s in the pack. Here are your keys. Any questions?”

Emma had loads, but she shook her head. They could wait.

“Cool. I’ll leave you be then. Sleep well.”

“Thanks.”

After Tink left Emma stared at the futon instructions for a solid five minutes without her brain absorbing a single molecule of the information they contained, until finally she threw them along with the rest of the orientation pack on the floor and simply unfolded the mattress, wrapped the sheet around herself and fell asleep.

——

It turned out that Belle was right. Emma did, eventually, get used to things in Japan. It took far less time than she’d feared, due at least in part to that first day when she’d woken up completely disoriented to find both her new roommates asleep and her stomach practically caving in on itself.

Reminding herself that this was an adventure and she’d sworn to be brave, she had grabbed her map and headed out into the streets of Osaka in search of food.

And gotten hopelessly lost.

The streets were a cacophony of noise and colour, honking cars and bicycle horns, bustling people, flashing neon signs. Emma tried to stay on what looked like the main road —the one with the most lanes, anyway— but as she walked along it her attention was caught by a brief flash of green in her peripheral vision, soft and natural against the dusty greys and blinding neons of the city, and on impulse she went to investigate.

Around a sharp corner and down a narrow alleyway she discovered a tiny structure she would later learn was a Shinto shrine; simple and ancient and made of wood, with a pointed roof that curved up at the ends and an ornate metal decoration at its peak, about the size of a telephone booth. Lush green grass edged with dense, thorny bushes surrounded it, bisected in one direction by a winding brook made lively by mossy stones and in the other a cobbled path leading to the shrine from the street, which crossed the brook via a tiny wooden bridge painted orangey-red.

Emma approached it with awe, wondering again if this could be a hallucination, this haven of peace in the urban chaos. The quiet was blissful after the noise of the street, and almost surreal in its contrast. She took a deep breath, inhaling the sharp, piny scent of the bushes and the fine mist of the brook and felt herself relax.

As lovely as the shrine was, though, she couldn’t eat it, as her stomach reminded her with a thunderous growl that almost echoed in the little garden. She went back over the bridge and down the path but when she emerged into the street she couldn’t remember which direction she’d come from. All the streets looked… well, not the same exactly but there were no landmarks her mind could latch onto, just a jumble of houses and signs written entirely in Japanese, and Emma realised that she had stumbled into a neighbourhood where most tourists didn’t venture.

She chose a street at random and headed down it, looking for anything that might be a restaurant or grocery store, but though she passed quite a few places that had signs hanging in front of them and wooden doors that looked like they might lead to eating establishments, she didn’t have the confidence to just push through one, in case it turned out not to be a restaurant at all. She had literally no idea of what she was looking for.

Eventually, the small street she was on intersected with a wider one and on the corner was the first thing she’d seen that was unmistakably a place to eat, if the large sign with pictures of food on it was any indication. It had a bright red awning with wisps of delicious smelling steam emanating from beneath it, out of a small kitchen area just visible behind wooden bar lined with stools, separated from it by a curtain made of clear plastic strips. Emma approached hesitantly, trying not to stare at the enormous bowls of soup and noodles that a Japanese couple were slurping enthusiastically at one end of the bar.

A man emerged through the plastic curtain and said something to her in rapid Japanese.

“Um,” stuttered Emma. “I’m sorry, I don’t…” She tried to think of a way to explain what she wanted using sign language but her frazzled brain would not cooperate.

One of the people from the end of the bar looked up, a young woman with a glossy, chin-length bob. She smiled at Emma and said something to the man from the kitchen, who nodded in response and shouted “Hai!” then disappeared, returning moments later with a steaming bowl of soup, a pair of wooden chopsticks, and a white ceramic dish containing a small towel rolled into a cylinder shape. These he placed in front of Emma, bowed to her, and left again.

“Please,” said the woman, pointing to the towel then rubbing her hands together. “Please.”

Emma picked up the towel and unfolded it. It was warm and damp and had a clean, refreshing scent. She wiped her hands with it, and then, following the woman’s mimed instructions, her face as well.

At the woman’s urging she sat and picked up the chopsticks, pulling them apart with a sharp crack and then staring at them helplessly.

The woman laughed, but it was a friendly laugh, and she held up her own chopsticks to show Emma how they should be held. After a few attempts she managed to hold them securely enough to transfer some noodles into her mouth and slurp them up, and when the broth slopped everywhere and dripped down her chin she laughed too.

Nothing had ever tasted so delicious.

The woman pointed at herself, directly at her nose. “Naoki,” she said, widening her eyes and nodding. “Naoki.”

“Uh.” Emma thought she understood, and pointed to her own nose. “Emma.”

“Em-ma,” Naoki repeated. She indicated the man sitting next to her. “Masahiro,” she said.

“Whoa, okay,” laughed Emma. “Um, Masahiro?”

“So, desu-ne!” cried Naoki, and Emma took that to mean approval.

She ate the rest of her noodles and broth messily and with relish, and when she finished she pulled a 1000 yen note from her pocket and offered it to Naoki, who firmly waved it away.

“Thank you,” said Emma, meaning it from the bottom of her heart. “Er, arrigato.”

She returned the 1000 yen to her pocket and took out the map of Osaka, frowning as she struggled to unfold it. Masahiro tugged on a corner and gestured for her to give it to him.

Emma handed over the map.

He spread it out on the bar and removed a pen from the pocket of his jacket, then appeared to think hard.

“Home,” he said finally.

“My home?” said Emma. She remembered Tink’s advice about giving the name of the subway station. “Um, Imazato? Imazato station?”

“Imazato eki,” said Masahiro. “Hai.”

He drew a large X on the map and pointed to it. “Imazato,” he said. “Imazato eki.”

“Okay,” said Emma.

Masahiro traced his pen through the confusing web of streets on the map than drew a circle.

“Koko,” he said. “Here.” He slid the map back to her and pointed down the street. “Imazato,” he said.

“Imazato that way,” said Emma. “Got it. Thank you. Thank you both.”

Naoki and Masahiro both stood, and bowed to her. She attempted a small bow herself, feeling foolish, then headed in the direction Masahiro had indicated, following the path he’d drawn on her map until she spotted the pink sign for Imazato station.

“Thank fuck,” breathed Emma in profound relief, and thank fuck she’d remembered the name of the station.

That experience taught her not to be so afraid of getting lost, or trying new things even when she had no idea what she was doing. Or asking for help. All of which she needed to do repeatedly as she settled in to her new country.

Gradually she began to adjust, to spot landmarks and develop routines, and she had begun to feel fairly sure of herself about a week and a half in when she got on the subway after her shift along with a whole crowd of other English teachers she’d yet to speak to.

The car was packed so she slid into the corner and pulled out a book, holding it in one hand while the other gripped the railing for balance. It was a good book —the latest Terry Pratchett— but before she could really get into it she was distracted by raucous laughter from a group just to her right.

“I don’t know what you’re on about, mate,” said a voice, a deep, rich one with a British accent that could curl your toes. “This is a very expensive tie. It cost a hundred yen!”

Emma looked up, trying to get a glimpse of the speaker. She was pretty sure he’d been joking —he must have been joking, even she knew 100 yen was only about a dollar, and she’d only just got here— but his tone had been very dry and also she wanted to see if his face matched his voice.

“Look,” the voice continued. “It’s 100% silk. It says so right here on the label.”

“Oh and labels never lie I suppose,” retorted another voice.

“This one better not. I paid a hundred yen for this tie, I bloody well expect silk for that price!”

Laugher rose again and as Emma watched the small group shifted and the speaker’s face came into view. She caught her breath.

“What are you alleging, exactly, Graham? That someone took a cheap polyester tie and put a ‘100% silk’ label on it?” The speaker’s eyes glinted with mischief and she was now certain he was joking.

His eyes were also really blue.

“Whoever would do such a nefarious thing?” he continued, adopting a look of angelic innocence so patently false that Emma snorted with laughter. The group turned to look at her.

“You’ll have to excuse Killian,” said the lone female among them, a young woman about Emma’s age with long, brown braids and friendly eyes. “He’s never had to own a tie before.”

“What, never?” asked Emma, as though she hadn’t just bought suits for the very first time, to meet the dress code of this job.

“Never needed one,” said Killian with a shrug. “Except for funerals, and I threw that one away.” His blue eyes clouded briefly with a flash of pain that Emma felt echo in her own soul. She knew that pain, firsthand. But it was gone almost before she could register it, replaced by the teasing glint. “So I went shopping for one the day I arrived and found these very reasonably priced one hundred percent silk ties at the hundred yen store, but Graham seems to think I’m not entering into the spirit of the dress code.”

“Look, I don’t like wearing suits any more than you do,” said Graham, in another accent Emma couldn’t quite place. She’d heard more versions of English spoken in the past ten days than she’d ever imagined existed. “But I’m prepared to put in a bit of effort.”

Emma had to admit that his effort was impressive. Graham’s suit fit him perfectly, and his shirt and tie were beautifully matched. Killian on the other hand wore a suit that even to Emma’s untrained eye was obviously made of cheaper fabric, the fit a bit awkward and the tie carelessly knotted.

“Why?” challenged Killian in a voice that aimed for casual but only reached defensive, and a tense silence fell.

“Look, mate I didn’t mean—” Graham began hesitantly, but Killian cut him off.

“It’s fine,” he said, making a short chopping motion with his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

Emma had no time to wonder what all that could be about because the woman jumped in, trying to lighten the mood.

“Hey!” she said brightly, pointing at the subway ticket that Emma was using as a bookmark. “Is that a single day ticket?”

“Um. Yeah?”

“Why don’t you get a monthly pass? It’d save a lot of money.”

“I didn’t know I could.”

“Oh yeah! NOVA will pay for it, you just have to buy it and they’ll reimburse you. And little secret, if you put Umeda as your transfer station you can use it on all the subway lines and city trains, so you won’t have to pay for transport at all.”

“That sounds great, but I don’t really know how—”

“Oh, no worries! I have to renew mine, I can go with you! I’m Anna, by the way. I’m from Canada!” She held out her hand.

“Emma. Er, from the US.”

“Great to meet you!” Anna shook her hand energetically. “And these, as you’ve probably deduced, are Graham and Killian.”

“Yeah. Hi.” Emma smiled at the men, who nodded.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea! We’re going to Nara this weekend with a Japanese friend of mine. Why don’t you come too! We can meet early and get your monthly pass before we leave!”

Emma was beginning to wonder if Anna was able to speak without exclamation points. It was a bit intense. But she couldn’t help liking the bubbly Canadian and Graham and Killian were both smiling at her, and she had promised herself to be brave.

“Okay,” she said. “Sounds like fun.”

——

It was fun. In addition to Anna, Graham, and Killian there was Anna’s friend Kayoko and two other teachers, one a round young man who informed Emma she would have to call him Smee.

“Because my name is William, but he’s named Will,” he explained. “So. To avoid confusion, you know.”

He turned out to be a short, very talkative man with an accent Killian insisted was also English, though it didn’t sound much like his own.

“Will’s from London,” said Killian apologetically as they left Nara train station and headed out into streets that were noticeably less crowded than those in Osaka. “I’m afraid he doesn’t know any better.”

“And where are you from?”

“Somerset.” At her blank look, he elaborated. “It’s in the West Country— southwest England. Pirate country.”

“Pirate country?”

“Aye, lass,” he said in an exaggerated pirate voice. “Pirate country, arrrr!”

She laughed. “You’re making that up.”

“Would I?”

“Yes.” She’d only known him a few days but she was absolutely certain he would.

“Okay, maybe I would, but I promise you this is a real thing. The pirate accent is from Bristol, and Bristol is in Somerset, or at least it was. Don’t mock my heritage, love.”

“I wasn’t—” she began indignantly, then caught the twinkle in his eyes. “Hmmph,” she huffed, trying not to smile. “I’m not your love.”

“Pity,” said Killian, holding her gaze for a breathless moment and then Graham called his name and he turned away.

They made their way slowly towards Tōdai-ji temple, along the wide paved pathway that cut through the grassy and tree-lined field called Nara Park, where dozens of small deer frolicked in the grass.

“Oh, look!” cried Emma.

“Yes,” said Kayoko. “Famous deer. You want to feed them?”

“Can I?”

“Many people do.” Kayoko led them to a wooden stall along the path where they each bought a bag of round wafer-like discs which they cautiously offered to the deer who came running up to greet them.

“They like the food,” Kayoko informed them. “But they bite.”

“Mind your fingers,” murmured Killian in Emma’s ear.

Emma held out a disc to one deer, who ate it politely.

“They don’t seem that— oh!” Emma jumped as another deer barged past the first and butted her hand with its nose. “Okay.” She took out another wafer and offered it to the second deer, and then a third, and before she knew it she was surrounded by a crowd of furry brown faces and out of food.

“I don’t have any more,” she informed them, holding up her empty hands, but the deer butted their noses against her pockets and her bag, and she was beginning to wonder if they might actually attack her when a large, warm hand enveloped hers.

“Come on, lass,” said Killian, amusement in his voice. “Let’s make a run for it.” He pulled her through the crowd of deer and and together they dashed back to the pathway, laughing breathlessly.

“Thanks,” said Emma. “I was starting to fear for my life.”

“Aye, me too.”

He let go of her hand but the electric tingle of his touch remained, buzzing across the skin of her palm. She looked up to find him watching her with a slightly dazed expression. Then he blinked, and smiled his flirtatious smile.

“Shall we go see this temple, then, love?”

“Still not your love,” said Emma, still breathless. “But yeah, let’s go.”

As they walked the group mixed and mingled and Emma learned that all of them had been on the same two planes and had arrived together in Japan a month ago in the same “wave.”

“And we’ve sort of hung out together ever since,” said Anna. “Who was in your wave?”

“I’m not sure I had one.”

“Didn’t anyone else start along with you?”

“There was only one other person when I got here, this guy Walsh.”

“Oh. I think I’ve met him. Ew.”

“Ew is the word.”

“But you didn’t have a group or anything? No group meeting the first night you arrived?”

“No. They took me straight to my apartment the first night and I fell asleep.”

“Huh, no wonder you didn’t know about the monthly pass. That’s kinda weird. I don’t know anyone else without a group.”

Typical, thought Emma. I’m alone even when I’m not supposed to be.

Anna caught the expression on her face and looped their arms together, giving her a bright smile. “It’s probably just because you started so late in the year,” she said. “But never mind, you’ve got us now. We’ll take you under our wing, little chickadee.” She laughed and Emma joined in, unable to resist. Anna was weird, but it was a nice weird.

Kayoko turned out to be an amazing tour guide. Her English was a bit stilted but she had immense knowledge of Japanese history and culture. Tōdai-ji, she explained, was an old Buddhist temple, still in use, and inside it was the world’s largest bronze statue of Buddha. The group listened attentively as she spoke and took pictures of everything she pointed out and Emma actually spotted Killian round the side of the Buddha with a tiny notebook and pen, scribbling rapidly.

“Are you taking notes?” she asked, amused.

“No.” He quickly stuffed the notebook into his jacket pocket. His off-duty clothes were a vast improvement on his work clothes, she thought. Jeans that hugged his ass and a t-shirt that skimmed his torso and a leather jacket that moulded to his shoulders. Chin unshaved, hair messy. He looked damned good.

He also looked embarrassed.

“You were, weren’t you?” she pressed.

“I wasn’t—”

“Let me see that notebook, then.”

“No.”

“Because you were using it to take notes.”

“Look, if I admit I was taking notes will you let it drop?” The tips of his ears were pink and he was rubbing nervously at a spot behind the right one, his expression anxious. Emma felt a stab of guilt. She’d thought they were just joking around.

“Of course.” She took a step back. “I’m sorry.”

Killian shrugged, burying his hands in his jeans pockets. “It’s all right, lass. I just— the notebook is something I don’t really want to talk about just yet is all.”

He looked vulnerable without his cocky, flirty grin, vulnerable and a bit lost. She felt the weirdest urge to touch him, to take his hand again, to see if the electricity that still tingled on her palm would reignite.

“Okay,” she told him. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

His worried expression melted into a bright smile with no teasing twinkle, just warmth softening the blue of his eyes as he held her gaze.

“Emma! Killian!” Anna’s voice rang out through the hush in the temple, followed quickly by the woman herself. “Kayoko says there’s a good restaurant nearby, do you want to go get some lunch?”

“Sure.” Emma forced herself to turn and nod at Anna though her heart was thundering.

“Sounds lovely, lass,” said Killian, his eyes still on Emma.

Anna’s lively smile slipped as her eyes darted between them but she quickly fixed it back in place. “Well come on!” she cried and after some slightly embarrassed shuffling Emma and Killian followed her.

—

Killian sat next to Emma in the restaurant, casually, elbowing her as she sipped her miso soup.

“So what to you reckon to this Japanese food, then, love?” he asked.

“I like it,” said Emma. “I don’t know what it is I’m eating half the time, but it’s all been amazing.”

Killian laughed. “I know what you mean,” he said. “Have you tried takoyaki yet?”

“No, what’s that?”

“Oh, you’ve got to try takoyaki!” cried Anna from across the table. “They sell them in the park in front of Osaka Castle, we should go!”

“Okay,” laughed Emma. “But what are they?”

“Octopus balls,” said Smee, and the whole table sniggered.

“Okay what am I missing?” demanded Emma.

“Takoyaki are octopus tentacles,” explained Killian. “Cooked in batter in this special mould that forms them into ball shapes. It’s an Osaka specialty.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. They love their octopus balls here, right Kayoko?”

“Takoyaki is very popular food.” Kayoko confirmed. “Very traditional.”

“Everyone loves a good octopus ball, mate!” said Will, winking at her.

“Well, all right,” said Emma, reminding herself that she was here to try new things. “It can’t hurt to try.”

—

The takoyaki was disgusting. Emma spit it into her napkin and the look on her face had Killian doubled over in laughter.

“Ugh,” she said, “No. The taste isn’t bad but you can feel the tentacles on your tongue, with those little suckers…” she trailed off with a shiver of horror. “Not for me.”

Killian took the oblong wooden bowl containing her five remaining takoyaki and poked one with his toothpick. “I love them,” he said, popping it in his mouth. “Mmmmm.” He chewed with exaggerated relish. “Tentacles. Delicious.”

Emma made dramatic gagging noises and Killian nearly spit out his own mouthful when he started laughing again, so loudly that the other people visiting the castle turned to stare.

Osaka Castle rose up behind them where they stood on the dusty gravel path that led to its main entrance, bright white in the slanting light of the early December afternoon, the gilt decoration along its swooping green roofs glinting in the sun. Emma couldn’t believe it was December already; the week since their trip to Nara had flown by, though not a day of it had passed without some small flirtation between her and Killian. A wink, a teasing remark, a shared sip of vending-machine coffee or a bite of a mochi sweet. Something was brewing between them, and though it was still far too early to say what exactly, whatever it was had butterflies dancing in Emma’s belly whenever she saw him.

Anna, who had been sharing her bowl of takoyaki with Smee, watched them with her habitual smile a bit strained around the edges.

“Don’t you like it, Emma?” she asked, and the edge in her tone had Emma looking at her in surprise.

“Nope,” she confirmed. “Definitely not my thing.”

“More for me,” said Killian cheerfully as he polished off another. “Next we’ll try you on sushi, see how that goes. What do you say, love?” His grin was warm, his eyes glinting with a flirtatious challenge that Emma could not resist.

“Sure why not,” she replied, looking at him through her lashes with a smile that was decidedly coy. “I’ll try anything once.”

Killian’s eyes went wide and Anna’s smile grew a bit more strained.

“Anything?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow coolly though there was a faint flush across his cheekbones.

“Anything.”

Killian cleared his throat. “Good to know,” he said.

Anna stabbed the last takoyaki in her bowl and chomped it forcefully.

When they had finished eating the four of them took a walk around the castle before heading back to the subway station.

Emma fell into step with Anna as they walked. “Hey,” she said, bumping the other woman’s shoulder in a way she hoped was friendly. Aside from Ruby she didn’t have a lot of female friends, and this was slightly new territory for her. “Is everything okay?”

“Sure! Fine!” Anna replied brightly. “Why do you ask?”

“You just seemed… a bit off, I guess.”

“Well, I’m not,” said Anna, but the edge in her voice was back. “Just… don’t push anything with Killian okay?”

“What?” Emma gaped at her. “What are you talking about?”

Anna shook her head. “Nothing. It’s— it’s nothing. Never mind.”

She moved ahead to walk with Smee, leaving Emma frowning in bafflement behind her.

—

Takoyaki may have been a disaster for Emma but sushi was a triumph. Three days after their trip to the castle she, Killian, and Smee went for lunch at a tiny restaurant tucked away in the famous covered shopping street of Shinsaibashi-suji, beneath a flashing neon sign in the shape of a sinuous dragon.

The sushi was made fresh in a kitchen on the left side of the restaurant, and served on little plates that moved around the room on a conveyor belt, going in and out of the kitchen area through a curtain made of plastic strips exactly like the one Emma had seen at the ramen place her first day in Japan.

550 yen (700 for the men) bought as much sushi as the luncher could eat plus miso soup and a drink. NOVA teachers had an unofficial running competition over how many plates they could eat in one sitting, though not one of them had yet managed to match the old Japanese men who could frequently be found sitting in the corner eating sushi for hours on end, their stacks of plates growing so high they had to be cleared away lest they topple over.

Emma tried the salmon and the tuna, and the whitefish and the rolled omelet and even the eel.

She did not try the octopus.

“Can’t tempt you, love?” teased Killian, waving a crinkle-edged piece of sushi in front of her nose.

“I can see the suckers from here,” said Emma. “They are no less horrifying for being sliced thinly.”

Killian chuckled and ate the sushi with a hum of enjoyment. Emma smiled as she watched him. He was wearing another of his awkward suits and cheap ties since they had to head to work as soon as lunch was over. He was freshly shaven, too, which made her a bit sad, but the dress code at their job was a rigid one.

They worked at the NOVA Education Group’s Multi-Media Centre, which was an enormous concern spread over three floors of a thirty storey building. Each day they arrived on the fourteenth floor where they clocked in using paper punch cards and swapped out their street shoes for slippers.

Slippers in the office was a Japanese tradition Emma could get behind. As someone who had worked as a waitress for years, anything that kept her feet comfy while she was working was in her mind a very good thing.

After clocking in and changing their shoes they sat down at the picnic-style tables where they spent their mid-shift breaks, and scanned the huge screens that hung from the ceiling for their names. The screens told them what their seat assignment was for the day, floor and cubicle.

“I’m on sixteen,” said Emma on the day they tried the sushi, about three weeks after her arrival in Japan. She had managed ten plates and felt like she might explode at any second. Killian and Smee, who had eaten fifteen and nineteen respectively, seemed no worse for it. She scowled slightly as they came up behind her. “What about you guys?”

“Fifteen,” said Anna.

“Me too,” said Smee, and Graham and Will were on fifteen as well.

“I’m on sixteen,” said Killian. “Walk up with you, love?”

Emma’s scowl smoothed out. “Sure.”

They took the stairs, preferring to avoid the elevator whenever possible. It was fast enough all things considered, but there were thirty floors in the building and they only had to go up two of them. Arriving on the sixteenth floor they discovered that their assigned cubicles —rectangular wooden tables separated into two squares by wooden dividers and equipped with a desktop computer and a bulky grey connection device that sat atop the monitor— were across the aisle from each other, meaning they could lean their chairs back and talk before their classes started.

“What’ve you got?” Killian asked.

“Hmmm.” Emma scrolled through her students’ class records, looking for one that neither of them had completed. “I think today I’ll talk about animals.”

“And I shall be practicing expressing anger,” said Killian.

“Ooh, I like that one. The roleplay can be hilarious.”

“Well I’ve only got one student assigned. So it looks like we’ll be roleplaying together, Kouki and I.”

The classes they taught consisted of between one and three students who used their own connection devices, provided as part of their NOVA package, attached to their own home computer or television to connect to the system which then directed them to their assigned class. It was a bit like a closed internet system —intranet, Killian insisted it would be called— and it allowed their students to take classes at any time of day or night and from anywhere that had a screen and a phone line they could use to connect. The week before Emma had taught a man who worked as a forest ranger and lived in a remote cabin on top of a mountain.

The teacher’s job was to select a class to teach —preferably one that all three had not done before, though this wasn’t always possible. Students bought packages of hundreds of classes, and if they weren’t able to advance to the next level after completing all the classes at their current one, they would do those classes over. Emma had taught students who’d done the same class three, four, even five times.

Five minutes before the class began the teachers opened the classroom and waited for the students to connect. When they did, their faces appeared on the screen in one of four boxes that it was divided into. Three boxes for the students, one for the teacher. The beginning of the class was announced by a bell that rang for ten seconds through the MM Centre and also over the system. When the last peal had finished chiming, the teachers turned on their cameras and greeted their students.

If the students did not connect before the class began, they were blocked from it and their devices would not work until their next class. If no students appeared, the teacher could close the class and have a free period.

Emma opened her class and read through her students’ past reports until the five minutes were nearly up. When only a minute remained, she looked at her screen. “No one’s here yet,” she said.

“How many are you expecting?”

“Two.”

Well, here’s hoping,” said Killian, and they put their headphones on as the bell began to chime.

When silence fell and Emma’s screen remained empty of students, she gave a sigh of relief and closed the class. She enjoyed teaching, far more than she’d thought she would, but a free period was always nice.

Picking up her book she leaned back in her chair and began to read. A moment later Killian’s chair tilted back as well and she smiled when she saw him doing the same.

“No show?” he mouthed at her. No talking was allowed during class time, except to students. She nodded. “Same,” he mouthed, then indicated her book. “What are you reading?”

Emma held up her Terry Pratchett, still the same one she’d been reading on the day they met. Normally she was a much faster reader but she’d been so busy exploring Osaka that she hadn’t had the time.

A broad grin creased Killian’s face and he held up his own book… also by Terry Pratchett. Emma grinned in return, and when he gestured for them to swap books she agreed readily.

Killian read the blurb on the back of her book then opened it, frowning slightly when he saw what was written on the inside cover. He looked up at her.

“What?” she mouthed.

He took out his notebook, the one he’d had in Nara, and scribbled something on a piece of paper. Ripping it from the notebook he handed it to her.

Is your last name Swan? it said.

Emma was confused for a minute then realised she’d introduced herself to her new friends simply as Emma. It was weird to think she’d been hanging out with Killian practically every day of the past two weeks and he didn’t even know her name.

She didn’t know his either.

It is, she wrote back. What’s yours?

Killian took the note and smiled, scribbling briefly before returning it.

Swan suits you. Mine is Jones. Do you think that suits me?

Killian Jones, she thought. It did suit him.

Nice to meet you, Killian Jones, she wrote. Can I have my book back?

His eyebrow rose as he read. Of course, Swan, he wrote back. Provided you’ll allow me to borrow it once you’re done.

Sure. And can I borrow yours?

Most definitely. Terry Pratchett should be shared. Which characters do you like best?

I like Death, wrote Emma. And Susan.

I’m partial to the wizards of the Unseen University myself. And of course the Night Watch, he replied

Carrot ❤️❤️ wrote Emma.

Nobby ❤️❤️ wrote Killian.

Emma laughed, earning her a glare from the supervisor.

They passed notes back and forth for the rest of the class time, and when the break between classes arrived Killian came over and leaned on his arms on the wall of her cubicle, continuing their discussion for so long that he had to almost dive back into his own to get his class prepared in time.

Despite their daily flirting Emma and Killian had never actually spent that much time just with each other before, but unlike what often happens when a group dynamic abruptly becomes a pair one, there wasn’t any awkwardness in their conversation. Instead it felt comfortable, natural, but with that ever-present frisson of electricity that had Emma’s skin buzzing and the butterflies in her belly doing somersaults. Killian flirted a lot less than she’d come to expect from him but charmed her far more, letting more of himself —his intelligence and enthusiasm, the softness under the innuendo— show through, and by the time they went downstairs to meet their friends for dinner Emma felt that their casual friendship had turned an invisible corner. She liked Killian, more than she’d liked anyone in a long time, but beyond that she could feel a potential between them, a possibility for something big and serious that was thrilling but also terrified her. Could she handle it, so soon after the disaster of Neal? Did she even want to?

The look in Killian’s eyes as he offered her half his red bean paste bun at dinner, the look in them when she accepted, the way he smiled when her own eyes widened in delight, made her think that maybe —maybe— she did.

Notes: I was in Japan in 2006-7, so that is when this fic is set. I haven’t been back since and I’m sure a lot has changed. I hope anyone who has visited in the past 13 years will forgive me any small inconsistencies in my memory or for places I describe that no longer exist. In short, please don't @me, I apologise in advance.

Also, all the OUAT characters here are standing in for people I actually knew in Japan, meaning in some cases I’ve had to tweak them a bit. It’s quite important for Anna’s character to be from Canada, for example. Again, please forgive me.

Thanks for reading 💕💕

#cs ff #cs ff au #cs fic #non magic au #captain swan #english teachers #japan #friends to lovers #pretty darn fluffy #but with a touch of angst to come #also there will be smut #but not in this chapter #also there is a fuckton of Japanese tourism stuff #so many details #if you like Japan this is your jam #profdanglaisstuff #osaka-shi serenade

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jack-andthestalk · 5 years

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Our Son, The Deal, Chapter 3.

Thank you so much for the messages and asks for this story. I love hearing what you guys think, it always feeds into my writing in future chapters.

The morning the Hellwater clients were due to arrive at Lallybroch, a weird like energy seemed to descend upon the Frasers. Ellen who was always an accomplished host, relaxed and competent at accommodating visitors in her home, appeared to be absolutely frazzled. Brian resembled someone waiting on a promised attack, and Jamie wavered between zealous and sullen. I took Willie into playschool and ran a few errands in the village. When I arrived back to Jamie’s cottage, Jenny was in the neighbouring one cleaning. Recognising my opportunity, I made two mugs of coffee and went to see her.

Jenny’s mood wasn't too affected by the imminent arrival; instead, she was humming happily wiping down surfaces. “The Dunsany sisters will be staying in this cottage” she explained, and Lord Dunsany and Dougal will stay in the main house.”

“Jenny?” I said cautiously not sure exactly what I wanted to know. “What is it about these clients? Everyone seems so ….” For lack of a better word I hazarded “highly strung?”, Jenny looked up from what she was doing and smiled knowingly “Ach each of them for different reasons Claire”, when my brows furrowed she threw down her cloth and accepted the mug of coffee from me, “What I mean is there are different reasons for Mam, Da and Jamie to be tense.” Jenny paused over the word tense and exhaled, “Mam doesna like Dougal, her brother” she clarified.

“Hmm Ok.” I gave her a nod in understanding “that makes some sense...”, Jenny bowed her head “aye he isna someone ye could trust too easily, and he has shafted Mam in the past”, she gulped her coffee, placing a hand on her hip thoughtfully, “These Dunsany’s that he is bringing here…they're Big business ya ken? Own one of the largest Equestrian centres in Britain, Lord Dunsany is a personal friend of Dougal’s.” Jenny pressed her lips into a thin line and continued. “They’ve been buying horses from us for a while now ….but what they are here about this weekend…well, it would mean we would be the sole supplier of their stock, they're adding onto their premises in Hellwater, and building a state of the art equestrian centre, it will be used to train the best of the best". She paused raising her eyes in exclamation. My own widened, and Jenny continued. “It would make Lallybroch into a company, probably quadruple our workers, not to mention equipment and buildings that would be needed once the deal is established…it would secure the future of our business if ya like.”

“so a lot is riding on this trip?” I stated unnecessarily.”, “Aye," she replied simply, Jenny smiled at me, her eyes like her brother were sparkling now, and I could see pride in them, she hesitated before she spoke again, "Jamie... well I'm no the type to lavish him with praise, but he has a talent for it, Aye?”.

Her face lit up, "he knows just the right horses to cross breed to get the best animal, and he is renowned for his handling and training.” A bolt of pride ran through me at Jenny’s words. “I dinna ken how he does it to be fair” She picked up her cloth and recommenced wiping a window ledge vigorously. “He can spot a good breeding horse a mile away, but it's not just that, Jamie will consider what the animal will be used for and will match it with the best breed for its use. He will decide where that animal will be best trained and the equipment or method that should be used to get the best from the horse.”

Jenny leaned up against the window for a moment and stared at her cloth thoughtfully before continuing, "Jamie has always been that way with the horses, he handles them, and whispers to them, they're almost hypnotised by him" she crooked an eye at me teasingly, "Ha maybe you do ken Claire" . A red flush ran up my face, I could suddenly feel the ghost of Jamie's hand running up and over my hip that morning, his mouth tight to my ear as he whispered encouraging words to bring me into oblivion. I dropped my gaze guiltily. Jenny just roared laughing, "Well then," she said pointedly.

“He has bred and trained horses that have gone onto compete at the Olympics dressage or racing, she explained grinning at me,” it’s the main reason a lot of our buyers use us.” Jenny clarified soberly, “Jamie’s reputation.”

Her face blushed slightly, and she gave me a sheepish look, “Ya can see why Da couldna lose him to Boston?”

“So it would seem” I breathed, “and that is what has Da's dander up”, she said quirking her mouth slightly, “what do you mean?” I asked puzzled. “Well, Dougal is hanging out of the Dunsany’s like he got us the deal when really Jamie did on account of what he sold them initially.”

“Oh” I played with the top of my coffee mug, “Is that what has Jamie annoyed then?”

Jenny shook her head laughing, “Ach no, he is edgy cause the Dunsany’s drive him mad, but he has to hold his tongue, or he will jeopardise the whole deal.”

“Well then,” I said as I rolled up my sleeves, I better help you clean up!

It was late in the afternoon before Jamie got home; his face held the harsh tone of earlier but softened on seeing me. “ye look bonny Sassenach, with yer hair atop yer head like that.” Strong arms came around me from behind, and Jamie nestled his chin into my shoulder. “thanks”, I said while continuing to rummage in the press in front of me. “It’s my domestic hairdo,” I replied smirking and turned into his arms, “What do ye mean?”

“Oh, I helped Jenny clean out the cottage next door for our ‘visitors’, whispering visitors as sinisterly as I could to make him smile. Jamie rolled his eyes, “I dinna want ye doing that Sassenach”, “um well Jenny was, am I not part of this family too...that I can’t be put to work on the family business?”

Jamie’s face lit up, and he pressed on my lower back, so my hips bowed into him, “Yer part of my family aye,” he said smiling warmly “, and I am to be yer husband no?”

“So I hear anyway, “I said grinning foolishly at him.

“Aye well, Jamie bent to nibble against my ear, "in that case, it's my job to spoil ye and not have ye grafting like that.” His warm lips slipped onto mine, and I breathed him in. Jamie chuckled into my mouth “Asides Sassenach, yer a surgeon, not a housekeeper”,

My eyes narrowed as a bold smirk formed on his lips, “it’s been like a bomb hit this house since ye arrived, I dinna ken why it’s next-door yer cleaning.” I pinched him full into his stomach, and he let out a large puff of breath. Pulling me to him again, pinching my sides until I was bent over wheezing, he suddenly lifted me and threw me over his shoulder, grasping my arse almost painfully. “Where are you bringing me?” I squeaked out, between screeches into his back, Jamie continued slapping my bottom and scolding me in Gaelic. “I am”, he continued while trying to manage my squirming “going to make love to my betrothed”, throwing open his bedroom door and shutting it with his foot again, he landed me unceremoniously on his bed, so I bounced slightly. I managed to look down, Jamie was crawling over me with a predatory look in his eye. “I have one hour to make ye scream afore our son comes home.”

His hand ran over himself as he tugged on his zipper, "god Claire" he huffed, "I never stop wanting ye" a bolt ran between my legs, as he roughly grabbed at the button of my jeans. I bit my bottom lip; smiling up at him "don't make me scream too loud" he bent to kiss me, and I continued talking into his mouth "remember we have the Dunsany's next door..." my words were breathy and lacked real concern. Jamie pulled away from my lips crooked one wicked eye at me, “Oh let them hear”.

_____________________________________________

First impressions, Geneva Dunsany, was far more uptight than her younger much more likeable sister, Isobel. She was currently sitting across from me cutting her food into minuscule bites, pushing it around her plate and making a face of distaste as she attempted to swallow it.

Her gaze flickered around the table until eventually, it rested on me “Claire, isn’t it? I spotted you leaving our cottage with Jenny this afternoon but didn't get a chance to say hullo or to thank you, the cottage is beautiful” she gave me a smile that didn't reach her eyes and waited for my reaction carefully. “No problem at all, Geneva isn't it?” She nodded, darting her tongue out to wet her lips before taking a small sip of wine. I, in turn, drank deeply.

When I looked up again, Geneva was peering at me over the top of her wine glass inquisitively. “How long have you worked for the Frasers?” her cheeks raised for a second as she shot me another weak smile.

“Well no, I don’t actually work for them…trying to add humour

I finished lamely with "well I suppose you could call it work....”

Geneva’s brow furrowed slightly, Jamie half turned his attention from Lord Dunsany "Well,” she said biting her lip and gazing at Jamie in a way that made me feel completely uncomfortable “I would imagine the Frasers are tremendously supportive in the workplace if James is any measure”. I came to the sudden realisation that the Lady Geneva was indeed very sweet on 'James'.

Looking to my right demurely, I batted my eyelashes at Jamie, who smirked at my subtle attempt to flirt “Oh tremendously” another long sip of wine.

One of Jamie’s eyes crooked at an angle, bewildered. “Tremendous at what?” he probed “Well James” Geneva purred padding her mouth genteelly with a cloth napkin, “I was just saying to Claire that I imagine your family would be wonderful to work for.”

Jamie took a long sip from his own glass, sucking in his top lip as he placed his glass down. “We aren't too bad...I suppose?", a flash of teeth, “why do ye ask?”

Geneva turned to me a bemused expression across her face. “I was just saying to Claire she did a wonderful job on preparing our little cottage, she will be a great asset”. We seemed to have grabbed the rest of the dinner party's attention, as I pinked slightly conscious of several sets of eyes on me. “An asset?” Jamie cut across, his lips pursed and hands clasped together, resting on the table as if in prayer, engaged.

Geneva glanced around the room quickly, her cheeks flushing “well at working for Lallybroch estates?” she clarified.

Jamie just snorted, head downwards and shaking from side to side, “She doesna work at Lallybroch.” He said grinning, he took my hand delicately in his, rubbing over the diamond on my ring finger, eyes soft now as they sought me out “Claire is the future Mrs Fraser.”

It was only a second, but I watched Geneva’s face crumble before she fixed a bright smile across her lips. Hand shakily grabbing for her wine glass, it was the sympathy in Isobel's eyes watching Geneva that made me wonder how deep her feelings ran. “Congratulations” her voice wavered slightly.

“We are having a small little celebration tomorrow night for Claire and Jamie, and hoped ye would be able to attend?” Ellen said smiling warmly before her sweeping glance fell on her brother and it cooled considerably. Dougal Mc Kenzie was in some ways the complete opposite to Ellen, he lacked her warmth, graciousness and kindness but I couldn’t argue that he didn’t share her astuteness. Since he had arrived alongside the Dunsany's he appeared to be presenting the Frasers as a sacrificial offering on a plate, there was something in it for him to facilitate this visit and I wondered if he was loyal to anyone, only himself?

Dougal pushed his chair back from the table abruptly, almost bouncing his discarded dessert spoon across his plate. “Ellen dear sister, would ye be so kind as to bring some cognacs into the drawing room?” the gentleman has some business to discuss.”

Ellen looked at Dougal bemusedly, almost a hint of sympathy in her tone when she said “Dougal, I dinna ken what century ye think it is, but my husband is well fit to serve ye cognac, and if ye think for a minute the business ye consider only involve the men occupying the house tonight, ye are very much mistaken.”

Dougal's 6ft, 6 height did nothing to intimidate his sister and when he opened his mouth to argue Ellen raised her hand, “I will join my husband if the matter is to do with our business” the ‘our’ said an octave higher than the rest. Ellen smiled warmly over at Brian “as always”; Brian ran his hand over the back of his wife’s “as always” he repeated softly.

Dougal let out a huff of breath and swigged down a large gulp of whiskey, his cheeks were naturally ruddy, it was hard to tell if the deeper flush was to do with his temper or the vast amount of whiskey he had put away.

“Of course sister,” he said smiling sweetly. Lord Dunsany’s deep aerostatic voice cut through the family tension. “Ellen, Brian, I will gladly discuss the matter with you of course, but its imperative that James should attend, he is the carrot in this deal.” He clapped Jamie on the back, and all eyes flicked to him, he didn't look at all surprised at Lord Dunsany's words but attempted a wink in my direction and said: “Aye, I will be there.”

I squeezed Jamie’s hand “good luck, I will go ahead up to the cottage with Willie”. As I rose to leave Geneva stood, “you know I think you are right Ellen, I would like to talk business too, after all” she looked to her sister, “decisions taken today will affect us further down the line”, she gave me a curt nod, and excused herself from the table.

________________________

I lay awake for some time hoping Jamie would return and tell me how it went, but I eventually was lulled to sleep.

He woke me with a gentle shake sometime before dawn, my eyes were blurry from sleep, I rubbed them quickly and ran my hand through my hair, now able to take Jamie in, he looked positively wild, his hair standing in rufts ontop his head, clothes dishevelled and his eyes bloodshot. My heart started to beat painfully against my chest.

“Sassenach,” he said in a solemn whisper, “we need to talk.”

#outlander fanfic #ourson #the lallybroch library

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queenslasharchive · 5 years

Text

2019 favourites

pt I

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In a world where everyone is born as a Dominant or a submissive, submissives are treated like second class citizens. Queen are offered their first recording contract with a record label, but the music industry is still highly discriminatory against subs, especially those who are unclaimed by Doms, so Brian and Freddie devise a way to protect the two subs in their band

02. so baby, pull me closer by owenwilsonvevo [brian/roger | explicit | 3013]

Roger will be the first to admit that he’s not always the most attentive, but he also spends a lot of time admiring Brian’s face and he’s pretty sure he would’ve noticed if he'd had a beard when he’d left. He still rushes straight into his arms, launching himself at him, legs around his waist and arms around his neck, but he can’t help the incredulous laugh that bubbles out of him.

“What the hell?” He asks.

03. i’m gonna come clean by jehoney [brian/roger, roger/tim | explicit | ongoing]

in which roger may or may not be shagging both of his bandmates.

04. Roger’s Boys by spn1dneedit [freddie/roger, brian/roger, john/roger | mature | 5473]

Three times Roger Taylor kisses each of his bandmates, and the one time they all kiss him. or, Roger kisses one boy and decides he wants to kiss a couple more too.

05. For so many years have gone, though I’m older but a year by brooklynbugleboy [poly, jim/freddie | teen | ongoing]

"Beau spied a familiar smile in that head of incorrigible snowy white curls. He knew that beautiful face once, before the lines took over, knew that body and those incongruous warm hands. Before age softened his middle and jawline and those liver spots stole the property of freckles on his skin. Beau knew that nose, those eyes, the quirk of those caterpillar eyebrows.

For the first time in his life, nineteen-year-old Beau LaCroix looked into the face of Dr. Brian May: astrophysicist and former guitarist of Queen.

For the first time in twenty-five years, Freddie Mercury looked into the face of the best-friend and lover he’d left behind.

They just so happened to be one and the same.“

06. if you’re that way inclined by obscuriaal [freddie/brian | explicit | ongoing]

It’s not the sort of business a proper young man gets into, but Freddie (Mercury to friends and fans) will take quick cash and the sleazy adoration where he can get it.

07. tempestuous by sanguination [brian/roger | mature | ongoing]

a story about two boys who don’t know anything but each other

08. Off to the Races by scarletjuliet [brian/roger | mature | 4495]

He may long for an epic love story, but instead Roger reaches for another cigarette and watches from where Brian holds him, at arms length.

09. all the more reason for laughing (and crying) by devereauxing [brian/roger | mature | ongoing]

in which freddie and roger are ridiculously codependent, brian is hopelessly in love, and john has made potentially the worst (best) desperate choice of his life in snapping up the first offer of a flat following a sudden eviction.

10. No Fight, Just Excitation by annieapple24 [all pairings, poly | explicit | ongoing]

Maybe its not surprising that the ‘bitchiest band on earth’ were able to finally come together through fighting with each other. The story of how each of the boys go from fighting to… something more fun.

12. cause god, it just feels so good by deakyamp [freddie/roger, poly | explicit | 2598]

“we were having a nice conversation,” roger told him as they set foot outside.

“she wanted to fuck you,” freddie corrected. their apartment was just a block away, and the fact only made the rush of triumph and spite in freddie’s veins grow stronger. he made long strides down the sidewalk, visibly eager to get home, but roger caught up easily. when they paused at an intersection, freddie leaned in close enough to brush his lips against roger’s ear. “but she doesn’t get to, does she?”

13. The A Experience by wordsarebetterthannumbers [roger/brian, freddie/john | mature | ongoing]

Brian May, 21

13 kilometers away

I am looking for someone to come with me to a Christmas dinner and pretend that we have been dating for two months.

14. like a break up except there's nothing to break by chateauofmyheart [general audiences | 4161]

Brian's been thinking about alternate universes.

a vague look at the hot space era where everything hurts and no one's quite happy

15. all that's left (is to leave) by rory_the_dragon [freddie/brian | explicit | 11486]

They drive out of Munich in silence.

(Brian comes to Munich)

16. Friends Will Be Friends by immistermercury [freddie/jim | general audiences | 816]

Freddie always gets excited by a home crowd, especially a Wembley crowd. It's just a shame that he's so impulsive.

17. Highly Strung by nothingelsematters [brian/john | explicit | 2513]

A little accident at practice leaves Brian needing to re-string John's prized Rickenbacker. John supervises...in a very hands-on way.

18. Welcome to Queen, John Deacon by the brightestbird [brian/john | general audiences | 3525]

Drunk at a disco, Brian May offers a very cute bass player the keys to Queen's kingdom.

19. the never ending cold by apaio [brian/john | explicit | 3930]

He’s riled up, muscles tense and spoiling for a fight. He’s not so much as angry as just agitated, like the tension of the past couple of weeks is finally coming to a head. Less so can be said for-

“Brian,” he gasps as fingernails scrape at his hips.

20. Call Me by shrodingers [poly | teen | 1448]

Sometimes, to really see what went wrong, you have to go back to the beginning.

Or, in which four boys observe their relationship in reverse.

21. Funny How Love Is by sweetestsight [poly | mature | 9164]

Things change over the years. Outtakes of four people, their shifting relationships and what they mean to each other.

22. Melancholy Hopes, These Sleepless Nights by anonymous [poly | teen | 9240]

His father would call him a bleeding heart.

Freddie, free from anger, would call him a gentle soul.

Roger, still cloaked in anger, would remind him that he’s kind.

John, in the same clipped tone, would say that he likes the softness.

A bad argument makes Brian leave the flat. Blizzards and driving while emotional never mix.

23. give me something to sing about by deakyamp [poly | explicit | 2198]

he would've invited a pretty girl to his room to fuck more nights out of their tour schedule than not, but for the time being, queen splits a single two-bed hotel room between the four of them. it’s usually fine. tonight, the rest of the band is out cold around him, passed out tipsy or drunk.

it’s just that tonight roger taylor is wide awake, and very hard.

24. Overthinking by shrodingers [poly | teen | 1082]

He's going to start a renaissance, the greatest one of all. Whether they will be there is a different story.

Or, in which Fred can't sleep and his bandmates help him out.

25. I Was Looking For A Home And I Found You by untoward [brian/roger, freddie/john | not rated | ongoing]

“If I don’t remember who I am then who’s to say I’m not a prince or a duke or whatever, right?” Rog says, a little out of breath from the running.

Brian puts chin between his fingers and purses his lips “Um, go on.”

“And if I’m not Roger, then the Empress will certainly know right away, and it will all just be an honest mistake.”

Brian lets out a magnificent smile and nods his head “Sounds plausible.”

“But if you are the Prince,” Deaky says with a smile and puts his hand around Rog’s shoulders “then you’ll finally know who you are, and you’ll have your family back.”

Brain clicks his fingers together, “You know what he’s right, either way it gets you to Paris.”

Rog smile widens and he nods his head happily, “Right” he extends his hand to Brain and takes a firm grip of his hand, shaking it.

Or, Rog's trying to look for family he lost 10 years ago and Brian's trying to make money off an old English legend about the lost Prince. They both get more than they bargained for.

26. Give It All You Got by somedayoneday [freddie/john, brian/roger, john/roger | explicit | ongoing]

Roommates John and Roger have found a good way to make a bit of extra income while their band is still getting off the ground. Little do they know that their bandmates are avid viewers...

27. Songs of Songs by lydianode [brian/roger | explicit | 2276]

It's the penultimate night of the 1980 US tour, and Brian wants to read to Roger.

28. Bring Back What Once Was Mine by sweetestsight [poly | mature | ongoing]

In which Roger gets cursed, escapes a tower, starts a revolution, saves a life, hits a lot of people with blunt kitchen utensils and is very much not a damsel in distress. A Tangled AU of sorts.

29. sailin’ away on the crest of the wave by kt_fairy [john/roger | mature | 16091]

Roger wasn't a man to steal another man's girl. He could find an available women easily enough. Yet, as this bloke went on about bass players - a sore point as Queen had been flailing around trying to find one for months - he couldn't help his eyes flicking to her through the gloom.

She was tall and brunette, which he liked. Strong features which he didn't mind, and dressed kind of masculine which had always been a look he liked on women.

Then he had realised the girl was the bassist Nigel kept going on about. And then he realised that she was a bloke.

30. Hear Me Out by 2_ava [john/roger | not rated | ongoing]

John is trying to tell them about himself and his bass playing; he wants to get into this band so bad. But, he can’t seem to stop his eyes from continuously flicking over to the blonde in the corner behind the drum kit. He’s staring at him, eyes watching him intently and mouth slightly agape, occasionally twitching as John speaks. He’s weird – but equally entrancing… // Roger is deaf. It’s something John slowly comes to terms with while Queen becomes more and more successful

#recs #2019 recs #fic #anna #maylor #relationship: polyamorous #smut #deacury #joger #froger #breaky #frian #jimercury

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neverwatchedonepiece · 5 years

Text

601-602: "Shaking up the New World! Caesar's Horrendous Experiment!" and "The Deadliest Weapon of Mass Destruction in History! Shinokuni"

Don’t think Law’s up for it, Caesar...

This may be a controversial opinion, but I think Caesar is great.

Not a great person, obviously. I mean, if you think Caesar is a wonderful person, you probably need therapy. But. As a character? As a villain in the crapsaccharine world of OP which is rammed with strong personalities? Yeah. Absolutely a good, fun-time villain.

So far, he is unrepentantly, unashamedly wicked. He is a business-minded, deceitful, manipulative snake with charisma through the roof, who also happens to be an excellent scientist. He has a flamboyant, dramatic, highly-strung personality, which is super entertaining. He has a memorable design and a hilariously expressive face. (YMMV, of course. I know a lot of people hate villains like Caesar, but I love them.)

It’s early days yet. I mean something could yet happen that might make me go off him (e.g. I hate it when villains are woobified). But right now, Caesar is stealing the show. I look forward to watching each episode because I wonder what that deranged monster is going to do next.

Now Luffy and Law’s fight back is about to begin, I await his screeching downfall with baited breath. (As much as I love villains, I also love watching their plans unravel.)

Last Christmas, a Clown Kept Your Heart

And the very next day, he gave it away.

Next year, to save himself tears,

Law allied with Strawhat Luffy.

I’ll bet that joke has been done to death, undeath, and back again, but come on! Who can resist such low-hanging fruit? Caesar Clown is the gift that keeps on giving.

He was on sparkling form again across episodes 601 and 602.

The action kicked in with Smoker’s Marines hammering at Caesar’s front door. One Marine began to notice they were the only ones left outside. Caesar’s minions had hoofed it round the back. Wasn’t that strange? He was ignored. (Don’t worry. We heard you, random fodder Marine.)

An airship passed overhead (they must be a thing in the OPverse as the Marines recognised it.) Caesar arrived with the Lab Kiddies in tow.

“Come on, children, you can get off now,” he sang. “And remember, this is your home. Don’t ever go out on your own. And of course you can have candy soon. Go straight back to the biscuit room. I’ve left plenty of candy in there for you. Now, I have to go back to my research room. Relax and enjoy the delicious, delicious candies.”

Trans: you kids are bugging me already. Beat it back to your room so I can get back to marketing my chemical weapons to dodgy brokers round the world.

The black-haired girl called Mocha had a flash of regret. She was lucid for just long enough to realise she’d just walked right back into hell again. “Nami and the others were very nice to me!” she screamed, banging on the door, “why is it so scary here? Is it because I’m not a good child?” (Caesar must have said stuff like that to them before. Bad things happen to you if you’re not a good child. I only give my crack-candy to the good children, etc.)

Back in Caesar’s lounge/bar whatever it is, Vergo got a fucking spoon stuck on his face while drinking coffee. That guy must have adhesive stubble, or something. He was wondering what was taking Caesar so long?

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, right?

The first thing Caesar did was apologise to Vergo for keeping him waiting. At this point I still had no idea why Vergo was there. To be honest, I’m still not entirely sure why Vergo showing up is a bad thing for Law. Like, of course Caesar would rat out a threat to his boss, but if Caesar had Law’s heart, he could have just squished it once Monet told him Law had been making arrangements with the Strawhats behind his back.)

Caesar bitched that Vergo didn’t have Smoker under better control (because when Smoker showed up, Caesar had a brief ohshit moment). Vergo admitted that Smoker is a wild card and that no one has control of him. Buuuuut.... now Smoker will be dead soon, so it was all cool.

Law Pushes Caesar’s Buttons

Caesar, who had missed the welcome party, took a moment to become acquainted his his new hostages and indulge in a spot of button pushing.

“Look at yourself, Law. I bet you were quite helpless against Vergo, hm? The deal I had with you worked in my favour.”

Now the heart-in-a-box squishing stuff makes much more sense. Turns out Law can also shamble his own heart into a box (not the best idea when dealing with a treacherous snake of a scientist, to be honest).

When Law first turned up, looking to stay on Punk Hazard, Caesar said: “In exchange for letting you stay, you’re going to give my people legs? Fine. But since you’re stronger than me and I’M the boss of this island, if you want to stay here, I need insurance. I want to entrust my dear secretary Monet’s heart to you. In return, I keep your heart and it’s a deal. As long as we have each other by the balls, you can’t do anything bad and I’ll feel safe.”

Interesting. Caesar sees Law as being stronger than him. Probably a known haki user? Caesar can’t be that strong then. He’s just tricky and/or has a strong fruit. Also, notice Caesar did not volunteer his own heart. He volunteered Monet’s.

For a moment I wondered why Caesar was blaming Law for the whole trust issue. Hadn’t Caesar called Vergo on Law for some random, unknown reason?

Nah, turns out Monet had overheard Law’s plan to kidnap him and forge an alliance with the Strawhats.

I mean, sure Caesar is pretty evil and all, but if I were him and my lodger was teaming up with some dude and planning to kidnap me, I’d call my boss for backup too. Why he gave the heart to Vergo is kind of a mystery, but whatever. I’ll find out soon enough if I need to know.

Law, being caught out, went straight for the roast.

“You’ve been saved by your diligent secretary, eh? I should’ve been more careful about Monet. Since the “Master” was so dumb, I didn’t care much.”

Ooooooooh, Caesar was maaaaaaad. He hates being called dumb. (I bet it’s that superiority complex. Vegapunk has always been the glorious, lauded genius while he has to work in the shadows for psychos.)

Just before Caesar took out his wounded ego on Smoker’s heart, Monet said the Smiley-cam video feed was ready.

No, You Didn’t, You Sentient Gas-Blob Murderer! How Could You?

So Caesar immediately switched his attention to his Big Marketing Campaign. A caged Marine could wait. Not a priority.

All over the OPverse, brokers and dodgy characters watched Caesar’s Big Moment (by the way, did I see Laffite in 602? I spied a tall top hat and a bottle of Jack Daniels-type booze on a table).

Caesar gleefully explained how Smiley worked. Smiley was the HS2 poison gas bomb that killed almost everything on Punk Hazard four years ago. However, there was a problem with Caesar’s experiment last time round. It killed *almost* everything. Despite being at death’s door, some inconvenient survivors insisted on surviving. How rude!

To counteract that, he has given Smiley a boost that will sort the whole survivors issue.

And, oh, the fake tears! The hilarity when Smiley would not do what the fuck Caesar said. “SMILEY, I MISSED YOU! THIS BRINGS BACK WONDERFUL MEMORIES OF DEATH AND DESTRUCTION! I HAVE A DELICIOUS TREAT FOR YOU---- WAIT, DON’T EAT THAT NOW... well, um... I suppose it’s okay... YES, HAHAHAHA, EAT THE TREAT!”

You’re not fooling anyone, Caesar. xD

The giant candy Smiley munched fizzed like a seltzer. Smiley was not feeling so good. It was kind of a shame, actually. I’d grown to like Smiley. It was like a giant, deadly, disobedient dog who does not listen to a word its human says when food is involved.

And Caesar disguised Smiley’s death as a treat.

With a Slasher Smile Like That, You Probably Petrify People on a Daily Basis

Well, Caesar would say Smiley is reborn. “Good work, Smiley! I will see you again! Be reborn, Smiley!”

But Smiley is definitely dead. (The whole bit with the apples was kind of confusing but I think I’ve worked it out... Smiley must have eaten an animal DF to become the sentient gas blob he was. This explains why the shot kept panning to apples in a sack. Then, when Smiley died, one of them turned into a Devil Fruit. Smiley had given it up when he died.)

R.I.P, Smiley.

And welcome Shinokuni, the Land of Death: the latest and greatest weapon of mass destruction!

Caesar definitely must’ve fallen out the psycho tree and hit every branch on the way down when he was a kid, because, man, that guy was *way* too excited to watch his fodder goons come croppers to Shinokuni.

“Yes! It worked! No one can get away this time. The problem last time was survivors. They could still run even after being poisoned. This gas clings to their skin like ash, enters through the kind and paralyses the whole body! Yes, give us a good glimpse of hell!”

Now, I don’t know if any of you guys have ever watched a movie called Event Horizon, but there’s this messed up scene when the rescue crew discover the ship’s log of the crew who disappeared on a spaceship seven years before. The log is... yeah... it’s messed up. It’s like a glimpse of hell. (Don’t google it if you hate horror movies.)

(Something tells me Caesar would have been totally okay on the Event Horizon. Knowing him, it probably would have been his fault. He’d be in a room, absolutely fine, while literal hell is breaking loose outside on deck. xD)

That Moment When Everyone Really Hopes It’s Usopp

While Caesar is sacrificing pets to achieve an upgraded pet, the rest of the Strawhats were still outside while the Purple Mountain of Oh Shit What Is That? was thundering down the mountain and over the island.

Zoro, Sanji, Brook and Foxfire had a front row seat! They were smart and ran sideways. This bought them a bit of time while Caesar’s minions were Pompeii’d.

And that running scene was golden, by the way. I’m disappointed I limited myself to one screenshot of it. Loved it when Sanji tried to figure out what was going on and Foxfire yelled, “Shut up and run!”

Zoro was generally impressed by the all-round quality of running on show, but suggested if the assembled could run faster than the wind, that’d be great. Luckily, they caught up with a sled-pulling dragon (that Caesar deliberately set free so his minions would be stranded). I’m guessing the dragon will head home and that will be how Zoro and the others end up back in Caesar’s lab.

Nami and Usopp also managed to hitch a ride before the Purple Gas Cloud of Doom hit their patch of the mountain. Brownbeard hauled himself out from under a huge metal pipe. He gained the strength to do this from sheer hatred of Caesar Clown (lol). Brownbeard wants to save his crew from Caesar, which is kind of nice. He’s a good guy after all. Usopp suggested they join forces because they wanted to save the experiment kids from Caesar.

Brownbeard knows where the lab is and probably knows most of the entrances. He’ll smuggle Nami and Usopp inside no bother, I’ll bet.

Caesar’s Need To Show Off Will Be His Undoing

While most of the free Strawhats were hauling ass away from the Purple Cloud That Is No Longer Smiley (I’m still weirdly bitter about Smiley), Luffy, caged in the lab watched as Zoro and the others ran faster than the wind. Once Luffy established that, hey, the Samurai Guy getting his legs back was not a top priority right now, (lol, Robin!) he tried to shout advice to Zoro.

Unfortunately, Luffy, you can’t shout through a video feed. But Caesar hear him and floated over to gloat. “Are they your friends, Strawhat? Unsurprising. They’re strong. But soon they’ll run out of breath and be poisoned. And eventually, there will be only an uninhabitable land of death. No one outside this lab will survive. And neither will any of you! Now, prove it to the world! Before this weapon of mass destruction, a pirate with a 400 million bounty, a Vice-Admiral and even a Shichibukai are totally helpless against a tide of death.”

A lever was pulled.

And I think Caesar made his big mistake: letting the Strawhats out of his sight.

Law (I think it was him) chucked a rolled up message to Chopper, who fretted in the shadows about what to do. “Don’t do anything.”

This Face Does Not Bode Well for Caesar

Because now the Strawhats are out of Caesar’s line of sight, they can talk tactics, regroup and launch their fight back.

Can’t help but think if Caesar had not insisted on using the Strawhats as an example, he could have disposed of them quietly in the lab, or used them as test subjects forever. Of course, that would have been - bam! - end of manga. And we cannot have that.

Three cheers for Caesar’s need to show off! His arrogance and ego have prolonged the plot!

Thank you, Caesar, for that one dumb thing you did. xD

Chopper saw what you did that one time and is judging you.

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niall-talk · 5 years

Text

This Christmas (5)

“I still can't believe you did that?” Niall said with a look over his shoulder to the backseat where I was. There was a hint of laughter in his voice.

“I could have taken care of it for you.” Bas said as he glanced at me in the rearview mirror. I noticed a smug grin on his face.

“Hey it was not my fault. He shouldn't have tried to touch me. I didn't know him.” So apparently I almost injured one of Niall's friends named Conner. He shouldn't have just walked up and touch me. My fight or flight mechanism goes to fight when I'm in new surroundings.

“Not going to have to worry about this one,” Bas laughed. “Might need to get her on the security team.”

“Oh hush and drive,” I shoved his shoulder a little. We were finished with Niall's quick overview of Dublin. To say I was overwhelmed would be putting it mildly. It was a beautiful place, and I could see myself coming back again. Not to mention it was full of one of my favorite accents.

Basil got us to Mullingar and my eyes couldn't believe what they saw. It was a small town like Niall had always told me. Small but you loved it. All decorated for Christmas. Lights strung up over the roadways like arches. A huge tree in the center of town. People walking the sidewalks and they actually spoke to or acknowledged the people they came across. You didn't see that in LA.

“You alright back there? You went silent all of a sudden.” Niall turned halfway in his seat to look at me.

“Yeah just taking it all in.” I smiled at him. “It's nice.” I looked back out my window, “And where did you say we were staying?”

He cleared his throat, “Um with me Mum.”

I felt that wave of nausea hit my gut again. I had forgotten that part. “Oh yeah. Great. Should be fun.” I tried to breath through the sick feeling so I didn't actually get sick in Basil's Rover.

“Don't worry. Mum will love ya. If you can get old man Hawkins to like you; you can win over anyone.” Niall winked at me to help ease my stress.

“Just good PR skills, and dealing with pompous golf club members.” I winked back at him and the look of hurt on his face made me laugh.

“I don't know about that Sam. He doesn't even like Niall most days,” Basil added in with a laugh.

We made small talk till Basil said we were there. I looked at the house that didn't seem to match the rest I had noticed in the city. It was bigger and had a large yard. I looked around and noticed we were out of what I guessed was the city area.

Basil had stopped at a gate and pushed in a code. We waited for the gate to open before he continued up the drive. “Niall what does your step-father do for a living?”

Niall let me know that this was his property. He just moved his mom in. I just nod and let it go. Before we even came to a stop Maura stood outside the front door waiting for us. As soon as Niall was out of the truck her hands were all over her son's face, arms and shoulders. I'm not sure but it seemed like she was checking to make sure he was real.

“Ma stop, ma. Ok ok yes I'm home.” Niall tried to sound put off, but I could hear the joy in his voice and laugh.

“I am your ma and I will fawn over ya however I want. You hear me?” This petite lady nearly scolded Niall. I liked her already. He laughed at her words and kissed her on the cheek. Then she was onto Basil who had helped to get our bags out of the boot of the truck. See I was learning some of the terms. I looked around and realized I was the only one left for her to acknowledge. Great there was that sickness again.

“And this lovely girl must be Samantha?” She stepped toward me and held her arms open. I gave her a hug and she gave me a good squeeze for such a small lady. “Dear she is much prettier than you described.”

“Ma,” Niall shook his head. She looked at him over her shoulder then back at me. “Can we go inside now.”

Maura took my hand and lead me to the door. “Boys you two can manage the bags,” she said in that motherly tone. “So Samantha, Niall hasn't told me much about ya.”

Oh great here comes the Spanish Inquisition. I felt the sickness in my stomach get heavier and my chest tighten. I put on the best smile I could, “Not a lot to tell. I'm kind of a bore I'm afraid.” I heard a laugh from behind us.

“I highly doubt that dear, but there will be time for all that later.” She still had ahold of my hand as we entered the house. I took in how open it was. The furniture and decorations were very minimal, yet felt very welcoming at the same time. “I'm sure you are hungry and tired from your flight.”

“Actually we stopped for food at Basil's Pizza.” Niall sounded a little worried when he told her that. She just smiled with a shake of her head.

Maura let go of my hand and hugged Niall again. Mumbled on and on about how glad she was to have him home.

“Ok ma over 14 hour flight. Sam might want to freshen up a bit.” He tried to use me as an excuse to get her off of him.

She looked confused for a moment by the name then she looked at me, “Is it Samantha or Sam?”

“Well my boss is the only one who still calls me Samantha. Most people call me Sammy and Niall calls me Sam. My friends in school used to call me Sammy Jo. I'll answer to just about anything though.” I was still in awe of the house. I looked around because something seemed off. Then I realized it was quite. There was no music playing or tv on in the background.

“Well Sammy let me show you to your room,” she took one of my bags that Basil had brought in.

Basil told us good-bye and reminded Niall to give him a call whenever we decided to go out. Then he hugged Maura then me and called me killer. I smacked his arm and told him to hush.

“So I fixed up the two rooms in the back for you two. Thought you would have a little more peace and quiet back there. You know how it gets around here,” she looked at Niall for confirmation.

The rooms were on the first floor down at the end of a back hallway. They were off from a second lounge room. The bedroom was about half the size of my entire apartment in LA. Simple but beautifully decorated. If Maura did all of this she had an eye for design and decorating.

“Sam,” Niall said as he knocked on the doorway. I turned to see him leaned against the door. “Mum wants to know if you want some coffee, tea or anything.” He walked in and sat on the bench at the foot of the bed.

“No I'm good thanks. So your mom is,” he cut me off.

“Over the top,” he laughed.

“No. She is sweet.” I rolled my eyes at him. “So what is the plan for tonight?”

“Just a chill night. Try to get settled in and adjust to the time difference. I looked at my phone that Niall had given back when we landed in Dublin. It was after 11 p.m. and we were wide awake. “Usually takes me two or three days to adjust.”

“Sammy, Niall?” Maura called out to us. He yelled back to answer her. “You two want anything before I head to bed?”

“No ma we're good.” He called back as he stood up to leave my room. He turned back, and motioned for me to follow him. I did and he gave me a quick tour of the place. We ran into Maura and told her good night. She gave Niall a hug and a kiss. They were so sweet together and it made me happy to see it.

I got a hug from her also, “Good night dear. If you want or need anything you make yourself at home. So glad you changed your mind and came with Niall.”

I thanked her and told her good night. After she went to bed I asked for the bathroom. Niall showed me and left me to my business. When I finished in there I heard the sound of a guitar floating through the air. I followed the music and found him in the back lounge room with the white Christmas lights on over the fireplace and the Christmas tree in the corner.

He was on the large square ottoman in front of the fireplace. A fire burning casting a slight golden glow over his features. It was a picture perfect Hallmark moment.

#niall horan #niall fic #anon req #this christmas #no edit #i promise the story will pick up after this #hope you like it

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klara-with-a-k · 5 years

Text

Peter pan #2

Klaras pov.:

After a while I dosed of to the sound of soothing music, It also must have been very late, and a whole night of dancing, no wonder I was going to pass out tired.

I woke up to the feeling of pressure being pushed on top of my lower body. When I opened my eyes, I saw pan over my body, covering my mouth with his hand, while using the other hand to tell to me to be quiet.

He then slowly leaned over and whispered in my ear: "Hooks awake he's on watch duty, so stay quiet and follow me." By this point my heart was racing over the roof, but I ignored the butterflies in my stomach and nodded my head.

He got off me, and gestured his hand to me, to help me up, but instead of taking it I smacked it away and got up on my own, this made pan smirk and shake his head, as he started to walk to the forest, as I followed closely behind.

After a while of walking I decided to speak up: " why didn't you just poof us away? You did it last time." "That's because regina would be able to sense my powers." He simply said.

"Okay then, what do you want?" He stoped in his tracks, and turned around to face me, he seemed annoyed with me. "Look, you still have to do more distracting, that's why I thought I was gonna take you somewhere safe, for you to hide." "Hide? Hide from what?" I cut in. "You didn't let me finish!" He glared at me. "Okay, okay! Sorry!" I apologize.

"As I was saying, we're gonna make it look like you ran away, that way they're going to have to find you first befor they find Henry." He continued. "No offense but that's kind of a shity plan." I said as he looked at me confused while also looking offended at the same time. "Do you have a better plan?" He hissed. "As a matter of fact, I do! You probably think that they'll care for me to the point that they'll risk their own family members life just to find my stupid ass the second time of running away, well you're obviously wrong about that." I explained. "Well then tell me your brilliant plan." "Fuck no! I already helped you enough!" I replied. "Do you wanna get stranded in the middle of no where all alone or what?" He threatened. "Go ahead! I'm not scared, I've been in this type of situation before, what makes you think I wont survive?" "Ugh! You are so infuriating!!!" He shouted at me. "I know that! Look we can just play along with your plan, but that doesn't mean it'll work, because you might not know this but Peter Pan DOES fail!" I shouted back, pissing pan to the point where he slammed my whole body against a tree, while have a knife at my throat.

"You dare talk back to me!" "Go ahead... do it!" I looked straight into his eyes with no fear, as his expression softened. We started into each other's eyes for a while, before pan pulled away.

"Tell me what your plan is or I'll go after Henry." He said simply. He really knew my weakness, I couldn't let Henry die earlier.

I looked away from him, disappointed in myself as I spoke: "If you pretend to kidnapped me, they might be more concerned with my well being, but you'd have to kidnap me in front of them. Make it seem that I'm important. So they would come and save me." I explained with little to no life in my words, I felt like I was betraying everyone, and it pained me deeply.

Pan then with no words walked closer to me, and grabbed my arm pulling me towards him. He had me facing back towards him, while he once again had me at a knife point.

"What a brilliant idea, love. Now play along." He whispered into my ear, making my heart skip a beat.

He teleported us to where I was sleeping before, just to cause a big scene. "Start struggling." He whispered into my ear again, as I yelled out for help: "H-hey! Let go of me!!!" "Klara!?" Emma, snow and charming shouted. "Let go of her!" Emma threatened. "Oh, but I'm afraid I can't do that, you see, I want her!" My eyes widened at the words pan said. "And if you want her back, you'll just have to get her back, but I highly doubt it, since you do care for Henry more." He continued. 'This isn't right.' I thought to myself as I regretted my decisions.

I was about to blur out the truth, when he knew what my intentions were, he covered my mouth with his hand, I struggled against his grip, but it was no use.

"Fine, what do you want pan!" Emma shouted. "Oh, you'll just have to find out when you find her!" Pan shouted back as, he threw her another map, I'm guessing its something similar to the map we got earlier to help us find Henry. "This map will not only help you find Henry, but it'll also help you find klara. Now tick tock, times running out!" He said as he once again teleported us away.

When we got to his thinking tree, he threw me against it, so I'd get mangled in its vines. "You think you were gonna get out of this, turns out that I was really kidnapping you. What a cliche." He said to me threateningly. "Now wouldn't this have been better if you would have just played along?" He asked in a deep voice. "I'm not just gonna sit around and do nothing while Henry's life is in danger!" I replied with full of anger.

Pan then slapped me so hard over the face, that my neck hurt from the fast and hard head turn, I felt a numb but tingling sensation in my cheeks, as I felt a tear stream down my face.

He stepped even closer to me to whispered in my ear: "No one... uses that tone against me." He then leaned back, and saw the tear on my cheek, as he decided to whip it with his tumb.

I saw no emotion in his eyes, and the thought if him possibly being a sycophant, made a shiver go down my spine.

We once again started into each other's eyes for a while, before pan pulled away, and teleported himself away, as I stood there in pure awkward silence.

Peter pan's POV.:

I got back to my tree house, as I barged in through the door. I sat on the edge of my bed, holding my head in distress. "What am I doing!? Why do I feel this way!?" I was mad at myself. 'I can't possibly be having feelings for this girl?' I thought to myself. "UGH!!!" I groaned, as I threw a pillow hard at a wall. "I can't fall in love! I cant stoop that low! I'm better then those heroes!" I shouted as I stood up and walked to the bathroom where I leaned over the sink and washed up my face with water to snap myself to out of this dreamlike state, then I looked up at the mirror. I stared at myself in the mirror for a while before I once again spoke. "Love is weakness." I whispered, reminding myself of the truth.

------

After much time has passed, I went to check in on how the hero's were doing and they've figured out the map and were on their way to save klara. So I decided to go check in on her one last time.

When I got to my thinking tree I heard singing. "Are you? Are you? Coming to the tree? They strung up a man. They say who murdered three. Strange things did happen here. No stranger would it be. If we met at midnight. In the hanging tree." Klara sang, as I listened for a while.

When all of a sudden the birds around us sang along. I stared in disbelief, just as much as klara was confused, she continued to sing at the birds whistles got louder. She really was something.

After a while the song came to an end, as the birds around us stopped in sync. "Awesome." Klara said excitedly, as she looked up at the trees around us with motive in her eyes. Then all of a sudden a noise came from a far. "Um... Hello!?" Klara called out. "Klara? Klara is that you!?" Emma called back. "Guys I'm over here!!!" Klara shouted.

They ran out of the bushes, revealing themselves to klara. Which meant that this was my que.

Klara's POV.:

I saw everyone pop out of the bushes, but before any of us could say anything we were interrupted. "Good job Emma, you did it. But right now is not the time for victories, I'd say you have to get klara out of her trap." Pan says, I already knew what he was talking about, but the rest of the group didn't. I hung my head down in defeat, I knew what I needed to do.

"That's the least of our problems! All we need to do is get her out of those vines." Regina said as she got closer to me trying to free me of the vines, by trying to cut it down, but all that did was squeeze me even tighter. "R-Regina! N-no! S-STOP!" I screamed and groaned in pain. As I could bearly breed at this point. "Regina! Stop! You're making it worst!" Emma shouted as she pulled Regina away.

The vines let go of its grip a bit, but still not enough, I was in a very uncomfortable position. And could bearly breathe, I felt like I was going to lose consciousness. I could care less when it came to dying, but I couldnt die on Henry and everyone now, they wasted their time to save me, when they could damn well have save Henry.

"I'm sorry." I said as I looked at the ground, while trying to hold in my tears. "Sorry? Sorry for what klara?" Emma asked confused. "For klara to get free she has to say what her biggest burden is, what's keeping her stuck to that tree." Pan answered in my place.

I can feel everyone's eyes shift to me. "What did you do!?" I heard Regina's voice turn deeper. I choked on my own words as regina impatiently ran up to me, chocking me with one of her hands. I try to gasp for air, when once again I got saved by emma, snow and charming. "Let her talk!" Snow growls at Regina.

Before we waisted any more time I barged out: "I helped pan distract you!!!" I cried out. "I'm sorry! If I wouldn't have done that, Henry would have been in more danger." I sobbed through tears. I was scared of what everyone was going to think of me, that I didn't dare to look up.

"Are you telling me that, that little tantrum you pulled off was to distract us of our plan! Of us saving Henry!!!!" I never heard Regina's scream like this before, so naturally I winced at her loud, deep, angry voice. She sounded like she could kill me with only her harsh words.

Hook and charming held her back, so she wouldn't end me right there on the spot. "That isn't the only thing?" Snow spoke up, and i looked up at her as the rest stopped what they were doing. "There's more." She said simply as I thought deeply what it could be, but all I could think of in the moment was... I looked in pans direction as I spoke with all the hatred in me: "I regret ever meeting you."

My whole body shook from the anger I felt, as the vines let go of my body, my legs became weak and I fell to the ground. It seemed that my legs feel asleep or were numb from the pressure I was put on by the vines earlier or it must have been from standing still upwards for the whole day. Then all of a sudden I felt lightheaded and passed out.

Peter pans POV.:

"I regret ever meeting you." Klara said with all the anger through her gritted teeth. My heart sank, it hurt me deeply. 'I've fallen for a girl that hates my guts.' I thought to myself as I tried to act normal.

Klara was let go by the vines, so it meant that whatever she said was true, my heart stopped for a moment. Until a saw klara collapse to the floor, her body limp from the pressure of the vines, she passed out.

I watched as hook went to pick her up. I wanted to shout at him to not touch her, but I couldnt possibly let them know how I felt about her.

I was jealous, furious! I watched as hook walked away with klara in his hands, while the rest followed. "I hope you're proud of what you've done." Snow said to me before rejoining the group. I stood there in silence, feeling full of... REGRET.

To be continued...

#peterpanimagines #peterpan #peter pan imagine #peter pan #peter #fanficromance #fanfiction #fandom

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crustybaguettes · 6 years

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band, did you mean kim seungmin oggling sessions - seungjin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16587968 - read on ao3 :))

A cacophony of scales filled the room, carpeted walls absorbing most of the sound but still trapping it in, a chorus of different instruments jumbled together. Hyunjin ran his scales, C major up, C major down, C# major up, C# major down, D major up, D major down, D# major up…

“Alright everyone, settle down, I want to start with Pictures At An Exhibition, bar 13.”

The conductor’s baton tapped out a tempo against her stand and Hyunjin felt his foot instinctively tap along to keep time.

“Hey, didn’t Ms Kim say to stop doing that, you know we get points taken off at competitions if the adjudicator sees.” Seungmin (Hyunjin’s crush that he, in the words of Aubrey from pitch perfect, ‘had a musical boner for’) whispered harshly, the section leader not wanting to put up with another rant from Ms Kim about proper etiquette and all the 996 ways to get 10 points taken off at an eisteddfod. The boy had always seemed a tad highly strung, but considering the regional championships nearing, Hyunjin could sense the waves of stress radiating off him. The clarinet section in their school band was decent at best, and as the two most experienced players in the section, they normally took the brunt of their conductor’s anger.

“And 1, 2, 3.” The baton made a downwards motion as the piece began, and in any other circumstances Hyunjin would probably be enjoying himself. Despite the devastating averageness of the clarinet section, the rest of the band wasn’t too bad, placing their school in the top 3 for their province. Not seeming to take these achievements into account, Ms Kim was going as hard on them as ever, her saxophonist history forgetting that it’s much harder to play loudly on a clarinet than it is to honk out a triple forte on the saxophone.

“Kim, what’s that bar marked as?” She asked while cutting off the band, her viper-like tone shooting directly at Seungmin.

“Um…uh it’s…” he seemed to be struggling to find the bar being discussed, eyes scanning over the page in a panic and thumb frantically pressing and releasing the register key.

“Forte.” Hyunjin leant over slightly to whisper, all too aware of the 50-something eyes trained on their section.

“Forte, Miss.” Seungmin shot Hyunjin a small grateful glance before braving the gaze of Ms Kim, her eyes glaring daggers at the first clarinet.

“And would you say you were playing forte, Kim?”

“Um, not really Miss, but that note’s really hard to play lou-”

“Kim, I don’t care if you chip a tooth if it means that you play what’s written on the page, understood?”

“Yes Miss.” The 7 clarinets mumbled out in support of Seungmin, eyes trained at the base of their music stands, not wanting to aggravate the situation further.

“Everyone, I know you’re tired, but I honestly couldn’t care less. The championships are in less than a week, so I don’t have the time to be stopping every 5 bars and remind you of what’s already written on the page. Now again from bar 13. And 1, 2, 3…”

Rehearsal continued on for another hour in the same manner, stress radiating off the conductor in waves for some unknown reason; Hyunjin thought they sounded good (but then again, he hadn’t competed in international band competitions and conducted world renowned ensembles for 40 years, so what would he know right?). As his eyes were starting to droop downwards, despite the trumpets went over their soli for the umpteenth time, the clock finally ticked from 4:59 to 5:00 and the conductor finally ended the rehearsal.

“Alright everyone, good rehearsal, remember our sectionals are next week so everyone needs to be practicing for 20 minutes a day. Can everyone help pack up before you leave please?”

Hyunjin disconnected his mouthpiece from the barrel, an unpleasant popping sound accompanied by the signature trail of spit that was hastily wiped off and onto his pant leg. After clicking the latches shut, he stashed his clarinet case into the corner next to Seungmin’s and began picking up the chairs to carry into stack at the back of the room. At the end of every rehearsal, the hardest part was probably having to overhear (due to the miniscule space allotted for the band room) the section leaders being given their debrief from Ms Kim (see also; harsh criticising). Hard, because no one, not even Hyunjin’s worst enemies, deserved ‘constructive criticism’ from Ms Kim. Unbearable, because watching Seungmin’s face get more and more crumpled with every insult thrown towards the group was like watching someone kick a puppy. Unbearable.

The circle of 7 section leaders broke apart, their crest fallen facing retreating back to the haphazardly placed instruments around the edges of the empty band room, unspoken assurances being thrown in their directions. Despite their weird not-really-friends-but-more-than-acquaintances relationship (that he would like to maybe one day turn into a not-really-friends-but-more-boyfriends relationship), Hyunjin and Seungmin picked up their clarinets and headed out of the room together and soon split away into two different directions, Seungmin to walk home and Hyunjin to the subway.

The ride home was always full of subtle stares, a school child with a too-small briefcase-looking thing wasn’t a normal sight for the general public, and Hyunjin became the fodder for people’s curious, sticky-beaking brains. His brain, however, was devouring the anxiety bubble surrounding the thought of his parents, more specifically their expectations.

Hyunjin’s parents weren’t mean, well, they were, but they meant well, kind of. It was their expectations of their musically inclined son (that had very little to do with music) that felt like little knives of disappointment stabbing into his self-esteem. The fact that he wasn’t the music captain, or even section leader made it worse; if their son couldn’t do what they wanted, he had to be the best at what he wanted, and at the moment Hyunjin wasn’t either of those things. The graded maths test sitting in his backpack with a large, red 59% stamped on it was weighing him down like a cinderblock strapped to his shoulders. Not good at school, not good enough in music, not a good son, he’d heard it all from his parents.

The fact he was an only child didn’t help the situation. All his academically motivated parents wanted was a child who was the best. That’s all. For them it wasn’t much to ask. For Hyunjin, sometimes the pressure of having to make his parents proud, the pressure that was designed to be carried by at least 2 others, was overwhelming to the point where he felt like his best would only be scratching the surface of his parents’ plans for him.

His school shoes hit the pavement as he walked through the maze like roads of his neighbourhood, the compacted windows sitting high on the house walls. A soft orange hue fell over his face, and for the first time that afternoon he didn’t feel so stressed. The sound of someone practicing piano drifted over on the wind and gave Hyunjin the feeling that he was in a movie, one where everything was okay, he had a caring family who loved him, a boyfriend who held his hand on the way to school and reminded him to take care of himself, a world that would never be his reality.

Not only would he never escape the crushing reality of his inadequateness, but his father would never allow a relationship under his roof, let alone a homosexual one. In his dad’s eyes, a wife was like a trophy, something you receive as a prize once you’ve succeeded in life. In his dad’s eyes, a man and a man together was something that should be seen at a golf course or in a conference meeting, but never in love. In his dad’s eyes, Hyunjin wasn’t good enough, so why poke the flame when you could just avoid it all together?

His key turned in the door, the clicking sound resounding through the dark, empty hallway and a puff of air escaped Hyunjin’s mouth in relief; no one was home. He slid off his school shoes and padded up the stairs, a soft thumping that made him feel like a little kid again. Hyunjin never knew why, but socks (especially thick ones) always gave him a soft feeling when he wore them around the house, the sensation of plopping or sliding his fabric-covered feet along the floor so much more appealing than his bare soles coming into contact with the cold floor boards.

He flopped onto the bed with a sigh and slight arm flail and accepted the aftershocks from the wobbling mattress, the feeling giving him the image of floating on a boat. A boat in the middle of the ocean, away from everything and everyone. Just him and his mind. On second thoughts, Hyunjin couldn’t think of anywhere more like his own personal hell than his mind, just a ball of stress vibrating and building. His clarinet case was slowly dropped from his hand onto the floor, wincing after the latches hit the floor with a resounding thud.

Speaking of clarinets, the seat placement auditions were in 3 weeks and Hyunjin hadn’t practiced anything other than band music for so long that the voice inside his head spoke in march tempo. He knew that if the weight of schoolwork was to get any lighter, the one thing he had to do well was music, and without that section leader title he wasn’t getting anywhere. Propelled by stress, he sat up, opened his clarinet case and retrieved a music book gathering dust on his shelf. After deciding on a song, Hyunjin began the slow and painful process of sight-reading a piece with more ledger lines than beats and more semi-quavers than notes in a scale. Until his fingers were cramping and his mouth was imprinted with the shape of the reed, and his front door slammed shut announcing the arrival of his mother, he practiced. The rhythm played over and over in his head as he closed his eyes to sleep, and with a startling and stressful thought he realised that Seungmin would’ve probably been doing the same thing for several weeks already. His new found stress-induced motivation was running through his veins, and even if he couldn’t succeed, Hyunjin could damn-well try.

Hyunjin’s new daily routine went something along these lines: wake up, get dressed, brush teeth. Contemplate the necessity of physical appearance as he brushed his hair. Say goodbye to his parents as he headed out the door, slightly stale muesli bar in hand and smudged lipstick stain on his cheek from a mother’s farewell. Get to school, study, have lunch, study, trek up to the individual practice rooms on the other side of the school. Get the key to the rehearsal room from a music teacher (senior privilege). Practice, and study in the breaks between practicing. At 11, (or whenever his eyes began closing on their own accord) pack up and head home. 11:45, get home and sleep. Repeat. After 1 week of this routine, not only was he falling behind in his classwork, a (not so phenomenal) phenomenon whose extent shocked his teachers of even his worst subjects, but every time he closed his eyes all he could see was staves, rests, dotted crotchets and key signatures. It was exhausting. The only thing keeping him running was the thought that Seungmin could be doing the same, and copious amounts of coffee.

One day, it was particularly rough for Hyunjin. He’d gotten a Korean exam back and had done especially, well, shit (even for him). When he’d called his mum to tell her, she simply told him that it wasn’t good enough and that the reason he was staying at school so late better be because he was studying. Despite knowing it was far from the truth, he assured her that he would improve and that it was the upcoming regional championships that were stressing him out.

She hung up after that, leaving the championships lingering in the back of his mind, just another thing to add on top of his mountain of stress. He’d gotten back late the night before due to trackwork on the subway line, and was running on about 3 hours sleep, which was not a lot when trying to practice a grade 8 clarinet solo while also trying to study and do homework simultaneously for two different subjects, all at 10:19pm on a Tuesday night.

After a particularly shit run of his audition piece (Hyunjin was finding that word more and more useful, shit grades, shit playing, shit life, shit person) it was all too much to carry, like a cat storing up his energy to pounce until it finally spring to life onto unsuspecting prey. Hyunjin felt like a small mouse, his body being engulfed by an evil, all-encompassing cat, fur woven with fear and cripplingly low self-esteem.

Before he knew what he was doing, a string of profanities (mainly comprising of shit) left his mouth and tears were flowing down his face. He discarded his clarinet in next to his music stand and sat on the floor, legs crossed over one another and head in his hands. His quiet sniffles and soft sobs filled the room, a welcome change from the same song repeating over and over, never good enough, never perfect. When he closed his eyes he could see his parents standing there, disappointed looks painting their faces. When he opened them, a reminder of his inadequacy stared right back at him in the form of notes and rests.

A quiet knock broke Hyunjin’s self-deprecating train of thought, the fear that a teacher or cleaner had come to scold him for his hands to wipe the tears off his face, despite his urge to curl up into a ball and sob. “Yes?” He croaked out, a small crack entering his voice at the end, almost releasing another wave of tears. The door swung open carefully to uncover the concerned, glasses-adorned face of Seungmin, a familiar yet not exactly welcome face at this point in Hyunjin’s day. His maybe small but still present crush was demanding attention at exactly the wrong time, Hyunjin’s aching and tired heart wanting nothing more than to curl up in the other boy’s arms and let his worries wash away.

“Hey Hyunjin, it’s pretty late, practicing this much can’t be good for you, you know you’re more than prepared for the championships right?” Seungmin’s soft and sincere voice filling the space with a feeling one would compare to hugging your mum after a few weeks apart. Like home.

Hyunjin made eye contact with the boy and soon regretted it, remembering the red and puffy eyes he would not have, not to mention the tear streaked face and snotty nose. What a beautiful sight. “Wow dude, have you been crying?” The younger boy came and sat in front of him, carefully avoiding the clarinet lying abandoned on the floor. “What’s wrong? Can I help with…” he paused to look at Hyunjin’s study notes scattered around the floor “Biology? I could help you study, it’s one of my best subjects.”

Hyunjin let out a phlegmy laugh, punctuating his sentence with a sniffle. “Every subject is one of your best. I think I’m too far behind to rescue at this point. Plus I don’t even care about science.” His voice gave into the wave of sobs building in his throat and as soon as the last word left his lips the wave crashed down, his chest burning from the crying.

Seungmin hugged him after a short moment of ‘this person I only talk to about crescendos and concert dates is sitting in front of me sobbing what the fuck’ and began to recall some basic phrases to tell someone whose tears are staining your geography textbook. “You’ll be okay, whatever it is you’ll get past it, it’ll be over soon, it’s not the end of the world, everything’s okay.” His fingers moved in circles up and down his spine, the relaxing movement reminding him of when he was younger and his friend would write syllables on his back and make him guess what they were.

Slowly his tears eased from a heavy downpour to a sprinkle and he sat up from being folded into Seungmin like a fortune cookie. A sniffle was let out as if it was an invitation for Seungmin to ask about his…situation, and the invitation was accepted.

“So, and you don’t have to tell me or anything, like it’s totally fine if you don’t want to, like we don’t really know each other, but um, what were you crying about?”

“Well, it’s pretty dumb…oh my god this is so embarrassing.”

“You don’t have to tell me-“

“No, I want to, I um…I’m just really stressed.”

“Mood…sorry, do you wanna talk about it?”

“Well, I’ve been practicing day in day out just for this stupid fucking seat placement audition, and because of that I’ve had no time to do homework or study, so my grades are dropping, and because my grades are dropping my parents are mad, but the whole reason I need to be first clarinet anyway is because I want my parents to be stop bugging me and be proud about at least one thing in my life and my grades are terrible and won’t ever get better, no matter how much I study, so I need to do well in music, but I can’t ever be the best like my parents need me to be because you’re just so fucking good at the clarinet and I’m so shit compared to you and you probably work so much harder than me anyways so I don’t really deserve it and the champions are so soon and that’s just another thing to add onto the top of all my school work and I just can’t handle it anymore Seungmin. Fuck, my parents are gonna kill me when they see my Korean exam, fuck!” By the end of his rant, Hyunjin was crying again, his ears of stress and anger coming out warm and fast, the cussing seeming to wake Seungmin out of the daze he had fallen into.

“Hey, do you wanna know a secret?” Seungmin said, his tone seeming to glaze over everything that had just been said, Hyunjin knowing that he was listening the whole time.

“Sure, what?” Hyunjin had a distraction from having a full blown breakdown and at this point, he would take what he could get.

“Well, I can’t read music. Or, not very well at least. I don’t know why, but my brain just can’t comprehend all those lines on the page.” He loosely waved his hand in the direction of Hyunjin’s sheet music to emphasise his point, being incredibly blasé to the massive bombshell he just dropped onto Hyunjin’s head.

“But, your sight reading’s so good, how can you not read music?”

“Well, most of the time I can play by ear and figure out basic rhythms a few bars in, or if I know the song I can normally play it fairly decently. If I have zero idea, then I mainly just, well, you might be a bit annoyed, but I sort of just listen to you play it and then copy it.” Seungmin looked down and fiddled with his fingers, suddenly becoming meek due to Hyunjin’s questioning.

“You must a fucking super human memory, damn Seungmin, I’m impressed.” Hyunjin’s tears had dried up, the knowledge that his competition had just as many insecurities as he did making him feel a little bit better about his situation.

“I mean, it’s not that impressive, the only reason I have to is because I can’t learn the real way, sight reading in my exams is a shit show, to put it lightly.”

“But exams don’t matter, the fact that you made it to section leader with no sheet music or rehearsal marks or anything to rely on is amazing.”

“I guess? I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it that way. Ms Kim doesn’t know, and I have no intention of her finding out, which is how you know it’s probably not something to be proud of. “

“Well, I personally believe that’s bullshit, and Ms Kim has a stick shoved so far up her ass I’d be surprised if it wasn’t affecting her hearing.” Hyunjin began to stand up and pack away his things, the motivation and will to live being restored by human company.

“Do you always swear this much when you’re tired, or is this just a special occasion?” Seungmin gathered his things up as well, their mutual insecurity sharing making them infinitely closer than they were before.

“A mixture of both I’d say.”

They talked back and forth, the two having a surprising amount in common other than the clarinet despite having never spoken to each other properly before. It took Hyunjin 5 minutes of walking in the wrong direction to remember where he was going, his lack of awareness clear evidence of his pure exhaustion.

“Oh, fuck I’m meant to be going the other way. Well, see you soon Seungmin.” As Hyunjin turned to head back to the station, he felt something tug on his blazer sleeve.

Seungmin’s worried eyes met his own, the street lights reflecting in his glasses. “You could come over to my house? It’s only 5 minutes’ walk from here and we have ramen.”

“Well who could say no to that?” Hyunjin shot his parents a quick text letting them know that he’d be out, making sure to turn his phone onto aeroplane mode after it was sent through to avoid the onslaught of threats and insults that would interfere with the one-on-one time with his ‘possibly more than a crush now’ crush.

They walked slowly through the streets of Seungmin’s neighbourhood, their tired bodies being weighed down by sleepiness. Once or twice Hyunjin thought he saw Seungmin looking at him, but then again, it wouldn’t have been the craziest thing that he’d imagined about the other boy. Hyunjin broke the silence, a small and insignificant question sitting at the back of his brain like an itch that needed to be scratched.

“So, why were you at school this late anyway? Like, you know why I was but…you know, what were you doing?” The two finally made eye contact and Seungmin stared inquisitively back at Hyunjin.

“I was um, I was at tutoring? I don’t know, I thought you’d just assumed that’s where I was, most kids stay out pretty late for private lessons and stuff. I just came back to school to get something from my locker and I heard you playing. Don’t, don’t you get tutoring Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin felt his heart start beating at the familiar question (one that could only be linked back to his family) was asked. “Um, well, no, my parents don’t really believe in that sort of stuff.” Seungmin looked at him quizzically, expecting a more rebellious/money related answer.

“Well, both of them got through school pretty well, not top of their class, but up there, you know? Anyway, neither of them had tutoring because their families couldn’t afford it, and now that they can for me they don’t think it’s…necessary? I guess? I don’t really know their logic, but the last time I brought it up I was just told to study harder so, somehow I don’t think it’ll be happening any time soon.”

Seungmin’s face turned from confused to frustrated, an angry counter-argument bubbling on his lips. “But, that’s just not how it works anymore. Like, it’s impossible to even understand half our school work, let alone be good at it without private stuff. Maybe it was when they were at school, but now it’s just not….it’s not fair for you Hyunjin!”

Seungmin’s passion for Hyunjin’s education made his heart boil over in fondness, as odd as it may seem. No one had really cared about that kind of stuff before. Well, at least, not in the way that Hyunjin needed. He wondered if Seungmin used to struggle in school, and that’s why he was so intense about it, but before he could ask Seungmin turned left and walked up a pebble path in between two small patches of well-kept grass.

“My parents aren’t home, so you don’t need to worry about any of that.” Hyunjin being Hyunjin, his mind quickly leapt to the most lewd and inappropriate thing he could think about, eyes boggling out like a fish, but quickly realised Seungmin meant things like talking quietly or being overly polite.

They took their shoes off and walked/slid (the joy of socks on floor boards) over to the kitchen counter, Hyunjin dropping his bag directly next to Seungmin’s as if anywhere ese in the house would’ve been forbidden for him to alter. The odd things you do in someone else’s house. Seungmin, as if on autopilot, opened the cupboard door and reached for a packet of ramen, quickly remembering that there was two of them and picked up another one. He flicked that kettle on and went about his routine, gathering a pot, spoon, two bowls, two sets of chopsticks.

The whole thing felt weirdly intimate to Hyunjin, like when you go to a zoo and see animals doing things you wouldn’t want to be seen doing by strangers. He felt like he was watching Seungmin through a glass window, the younger boy pottering around as if no one else was there. It was quite entrancing, actually.

Well until Seungmin turned around and made direct eye contact with him, making Hyunjin’s shoulders jolt a little bit in fear. His tie undone, blazer discarded and glasses askew, Seungmin looked cute. Well, very cute, to put it lightly. Hyunjin didn’t even notice he was staring, eyes drifting in and out of blurriness like they do when you’re dead tired, until the other boy awkwardly cleared his throat, holding out a bowl of ramen and a pair of chopsticks.

They sat down to eat, still in relative silence except for the slurping and chewing noises that Hyunjin found repulsive and relaxing at the same time. Like something that smells so bad you can’t stop smelling it. Suddenly, Seungmin let out a giggle. Hyunjin didn’t know why, maybe it was the thrill of not being around his parents, or the fact he was onto his 19th hour of consciousness in a row, but he started laughing too. Soon, both boys were the kind of laughs that make you cry, make your stomach hurt or make you feel like you’re going to vomit. It was pretty funky.

The laugh’s died down and a question popped into Hyunjin’s brain, one that could possibly flip the whole situation on its head, but he wanted to know the answer, so he asked despite the possible consequences.

“So, why aren’t your parents home?” Hyunjin instantly regretted his decision when Seungmin seemed to close into himself, fiddling with his chopsticks habitually.

“Well, my mum’s away for work, she’s works for an insurance company based overseas, so she goes away a lot. My dad works as a bus and taxi driver, and he works the night shifts on the bus. My um, my mum earns a lot, but it’s usually only enough for the house, bills, food, clothes, you know, those kinds of things. My dad works the long hours so that he can pay for my tutoring, because, well, he didn’t have a very good upbringing and didn’t do too well in school, so he wants me to have a better chance than him. That’s why I uh, why I’m “good at everything”, I guess.” Seungmin accentuated the commonly whispered phrase with quotation marks, as if to say he didn’t believe it. Which was bull, because it was true. Well, it was in Hyunjin’s eyes anyway. “I try really hard, I study, I practice the clarinet, play baseball, I fucking…I work so hard, because I want my parents to know that their hard work mounted to something.”

The two boys sat in silence, Seungmin staring at his ramen bowl, Hyunjin staring at Seungmin. The younger boy looked up, glassy eyes being protected by the soft gaze of Hyunjin, as if saying that it was okay to cry.

Seungmin didn’t take the invitation, instead standing up to clear away the bowls. Hyunjin grabbed his before the other boy could, and began rinsing away the spicy remnants of their dinner. His thoughts wondered, comparing his life to Seungmin, comparing their parents, their grades, their motivation. He realised that to be motivated by love was much more powerful than to be motivated by fear, and maybe his parents could learn a thing or two from Seungmin’s. Their hands brushed together a few times, at first by accident and then on purpose, before Hyunjin have up on the hints and grabbed Seungmin’s hands in his own, the half washed metal chopsticks clattering into the sink.

“Seungmin, it’s okay. You don’t need to be embarrassed, or ashamed, or angry or scared, because I know that your parents will love you no matter what, whether you become a baseball player or a musician or a lawyer or a bus driver, your parents will love you knowing that you did your best. It’s okay to blame yourself, and set expectations, but just know that you don’t need to, you have other people who are here. I’m here.” Their hands stayed linked along with their eye contact, a single tear running down Seungmin’s face, making Hyunjin wonder how the first clarinet kept it together when he was crumpled up and sobbing in his lap like a sad piece of origami.

Before he could think about it anymore, or about how he wished he could give Seungmin all his happiness, even if it wasn’t a lot, he felt arms wrap around his torso and tears warm his shirt.

‘Seungmin’s crying, fuck what do I do?’ Hyunjin thought. Seungmin let out a little giggle, breaking the stream of tears and making Hyunjin realise he’d done a bit more than just thought it.

Seungmin re-emerged from the shoulder he’d been crying on and before Hyunjin even knew what he was doing, he kissed him. In hindsight, probably not the best idea, but you know, heat of the moment and all that jazz. It wasn’t like he was trying to force his tongue down the other boy’s throat, just a peck, but he did suppose it was a bit uncalled for. The more Hyunjin thought about it, the worse what he had done became and Seungmin’s frozen state wasn’t heling matters.

“Uh, um sorry, I don’t know why I did that, god, I’m so sorry, I’ll just go now, sorry.” Before Seungmin could voice any protest and/or agreement, Hyunjin had picked up his bag and clarinet, slipped on his shoes and bolted out the door, the adrenaline of kissing Seungmin fuelling him until he sat down on the subway, the repercussions of today finally sinking in. He didn’t want to go home, actually, he didn’t want to go anyway, he just wanted to scream and cry and hug someone all at once. The first new friend he’d had in years, and he just went and fucked it up like the idiot he is. A sentimental, common-sense-lacking, gay idiot.

Scrolling through his contacts, he was reminded of the friends he did have before completely isolating himself with his clarinet. Contrary to popular belief, he did have friends, quite a few actually, just not at his school. One of his closest friends, a boy called Jisung, used to skateboard with him on Sundays before his parents banned him from doing so, didn’t live far from the next subway stop. The announcers voice brought him back to the weekends where he could be a normal, happy 18 year old for one time slot a week. Where he could laugh and snort and yell and joke and be free for a few hours with his friends, what he’d always dreamed adolescence to be like.

Not really thinking about anything, he got off at the next station, the familiar homeless man with his wooden flute now sleeping curled up in a duvet, and despite the lack of change in his pocket, he still mustered up 1,000 won, the smiling face of the old man playing on repeat in his mind as he walked up the stairs and out into the chilly night. He hadn’t realised how cold it was until now, but his fingers felt like they were going to stop functioning without some gloves or a heat pack, and he was probably going to need those at some point (the fingers and the gloves).

Feet moving on instinct more than thought, he turned left and left again, the familiar waving cat in the window of a Chinese restaurant wishing him good luck, and Hyunjin appreciated the sentiment, he needed it. Not remembering the proper etiquette until 100m from Jisung’s house, he unlocked his phone and tapped on the small phone button underneath a particularly puffy-cheeked photo of Jisung. On the fifth ring, he picked up.

“Hyunjin, bro, what is it? I haven’t seen you in ages dude, but you know it’s like 1am right?” Hyunjin hadn’t realised how late it was and felt bad, until the wind shot a shockwave of shivers along his arms and warmth was more important than manners.

“Yeah, I know, I’m really sorry it’s so late, I didn’t even realise, um, this is kind of random, and like you don’t need to let me, but could I sleep at yours tonight? It’s just that…well, it’s a long story.”

“Um, yeah, sure, you can tell me when you get here, I’ll leave the front door unlocked, just come up to my room and remember where the creaky floor board is, see you soon.”

“Thank you so much, see you.”

Hyunjin, had never been more grateful more Jisung’s chill parents or for Jisung not questioning him, and for the heat that encompassed him as he shut the door behind him and locked it carefully, slipping off his shoes for the second time that night. He was extra cautious when stepping around the loose floorboard right outside Jisung’s parents’ room, deciding that they deserved a good night’s sleep more than anyone else.

As he opened the door to Jisung’s room slowly, he realised with a sad thought that this was probably the earliest he’s gone to bed all week, the overflowing levels of homework needing to be completed once he got home every night keeping him up until the early hours of the morning. Jisung’s bed head and familiar squirrel-like face stuck up from under his bed sheets, and the worried look in his eyes made Hyunjin almost breakdown, again.

“Hey Hyunjin, it’s been a while hasn’t it.”

“Yeah, it has been.” Hyunjin replied wetly with a bit of a sniffle, determined not to cry. He didn’t think he could even if he wanted to, the tear supply running a tad too low.

“Here, put these on and then hop in. You look like you could use the sleep.”

Hyunjin caught the sweat pants and hoodie that were thrown his way and proceeded to turn around and change. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for one of them to be getting changed in front of the other, especially due to the clothes-destroying nature of skateboarding.

He lifted up the sheets and sat under them on the bed, Jisung’s arm coming to wrap around his shoulder and rub up and down his arm. He vaguely remembered Jisung setting an alarm and making sure that Hyunjin’s laptop and phone were charging before drifting off into sleep, the thoughts of Seungmin and school still running laps around his head.

After waking up and getting dressed, Hyunjin explained the events of the previous day to Jisung, gaining a little bit of comfort from the sympathetic gaze and sincere words. They finished up their breakfast and Hyunjin thanked Jisung’s parents, both of them making sure to remind him to come over whenever he felt like it. They’d always been more like parents to him than his own, ever since middle school when he helped Jisung get home safely after spraining his ankle playing soccer.

Hyunjin’s clarinet felt heavy in his hand, a weighted reminder of the consequences he would have to deal with later in the day, including those during and after band rehearsal. He knew he wouldn’t be able to focus with Seungmin sitting next to him for an hour and a half, but he decided to cross that bridge when he came to it.

After a quick organisation of plans to meet up soon, Hyunjin and Jisung parted ways at the subway station, Jisung to get on a bus and Hyunjin to take the (slightly shorter than usual) subway ride back to school. His mind raced with what he would say to Seungmin, what Seungmin would say to him, what his parents would say, what his teachers would say about his lack of homework completion. He’d taken his phone off of aeroplane mode to call Jisung last night, but hadn’t checked to see if his parents had messaged or tried to call him.

Opening the messages app, the lack of a little red circle telling him what he already knew, there was his text conversation with his mum, the message not even read, let alone replied to. Some would take it as a blessing, but the fact his parents cared little about his whereabouts or safety filled Hyunjin with a longing for a familial relationship with his parents like the one Jisung, or even Seungmin, had. It had been like that his entire life, and got even worse with the beginning of middle school, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

He didn’t realise how awful he looked until waiting to get off the train and having nowhere to look other than his glassy, transparent reflection. His hair was a nest of flyaways and messy strands, eye bags more purple and prominent than ever, and his face looked red and swollen; a mixture of sleep and multiple bouts of crying. He accepted the stares this time, knowing what he looked like made it much easier to understand passer-bys’ fascination with him, although it really shouldn’t. He was surprised most Korean school children didn’t look like this on a day to day basis.

The sideways glances and discrete (ish) looks continued as he entered the front doors of the school, making a bee line for his classroom. As he sat down and prepared to sleep for the next hour of self-studying, his mind went blank for the first time in over 24 hours of consciousness. It was relaxing, a very welcome change from the overactive thoughts that had calmed from a storm into clear skies.

Walking back into the band room after ducking out swiftly when noticing he was going to be all alone with Ms Kim, Hyunjin’s eyes landed straight onto Seungmin’s small frame. Their gazes met and hastily shifted directions, wanting to avoid contact for as long as possible before they had to sit next to each other for an extended period of time that seemed to be getting longer and longer. It’s only been 10 minutes, 5 of which had been spent setting up chairs, but Hyunjin felt like he’d been there for hours.

The minutes ticked past, and with every click of the clock hand, Hyunjin felt the tension between him and the first clarinet growing thicker and thicker; a fast growing fungus that fed on anxiety and angry band directors. Every time their hands went near each other reaching for a pencil, every time they accidentally made eye contact, or worse, physical contact, Hyunjin saw Seungmin visually cringe away, and he hated himself. Not only had he ruined whatever relationship might have been brewing between them, but he made Seungmin so uncomfortable that he couldn’t look at him. He broke the minimal amount of trust that had been weaving in the space between them, and for that he didn’t think he could forgive himself. Was Hyunjin over reacting? Maye. But was he also sad? Yes, and feelings deserved to be recognised, whether their dumb or not.

When the rehearsal ended, the two stood up and faced each other, the younger quickly scurrying away to accept his weekly debriefing/insult collecting, and Hyunjin returning to his case to pack away his clarinet. Determined to keep tradition alive and to foster some spark of hope still alive inside of him, Hyunjin placed his packed up case next to Seungmin’s empty one, a stroke of despair striking through him as he realised that the other boy was still being scolded by their paranoid conductor, still convinced that their band wasn’t and would never be good enough.

They both picked up the two remaining chairs in the room, everyone except them having scampered out as soon as possible. Considering their seniority in the school, Ms Kim could trust them enough to lock the door after they left. Avoiding eye contact was becoming one of Hyunjin’s specialties, he realised, not having looked at Seungmin properly for over an hour and a half (impressive, considering his old habits of ‘look at sheet music, Seungmin, sheet music, Seungmin). As they entered the storage room he decided that enough was enough, and spoke his proper words of, well, now that he thought about it, it had probably been around 9 hours since he uttered more than one word in a row.

“Hey, Seungmin, look, about yesterday, I’m really sorry, I don’t know why I did it, it was really stupid and I’m so sorry.”

The clack of a chair was all the warning he got before Seungmin was directly in front of him, hands in his own. Their faces were disturbingly (yet enjoyably) close together, and he could feel the warm puffs of breath from the other brushing against his face.

“You know, I was going to tell you not to leave, but you kind of just, booked it out my front door without much warning. I mean, I probably would’ve done the same, but usually my crushes don’t like me back.”

Hyunjin was silent. Seungmin liked him? Really? He blinked his eyes a few times just to check everything was really there, the little movement found cute by the other as the smaller boy let out a little giggle, before brushing Hyunjin’s hair out of his eyes and giving him a little kiss on the nose.

“Hey, this is super romantic, but my nose is greasy as hell.” He couldn’t resist the little comment that escaped his lips, not regretting a single thing as he saw Seungmin’s eyes crinkle in amusement and his mouth twitch with a possible retort.

“Maybe I’ll just have to kiss somewhere else then.” His mouth quirked up a little before reaching up to give Hyunjin a little peck on the lips, their mouths a little bit swollen and sore from playing. Seungmin’s hands came to rest on the bottom of Hyunjin’s blazer, fingers curling around the fabric as they leaned their foreheads against each other’s, the taller boy bringing his arms up to rest on the other’s shoulders. They swayed slowly back in forth in the musty little storage room to music that wasn’t playing, and Hyunjin, for the first time in years, hadn’t a worry in the world.

#stray kids #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids seungmin #hyunjin #seungmin #hwang hyunjin #kim seungmin #seungjin #imagine #oneshot #fluff #hurt/comfort

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hataraku-headcanons-blog · 5 years

Text

What Happens When We Fall Asleep?

A quick repost since I forgot about the read under cut function. Hopefully this makes it nicer!

Also, an FYI about the blood-brain barrier: blood travels along certain vessels, and regulation of blood along these pathways is highly controlled. So in this story, RBC can see the neurons and they can see her, but she cannot leave the path or go up to them really. :)

Without further ado, here’s the story:

----------

The night shift was starting and the typically quick pace in the internal carotid artery was beginning to slow. While many red blood cells yawned, trudging along the dirt path at as slow a speed as the blood pressure would allow, one red-headed cell seemed to almost light up the darkened vessel with her enthusiasm.

AE-3803 hummed to herself as she pushed her box of oxygen, marveling at the scenery at night time.

“It’s so peaceful,” she murmured, taking in the slightly cooler night air and the way the lights from the windows of the common cells’ houses cast a faint glow along the street.

She followed the straight, wide path up and up and still further up until she reached the entrance to the brain.

She paused, checked her notes and nodded.

“I’m going the right way!” she whispered excitedly, not wanting to be too loud and disturb the serene atmosphere. Taking a deep breath, the red blood cell kept along the path she had written.

3803 stepped into the brain and gasped aloud.

Brain: “A major organ of the body. A control center for coordination of actions and motion, regulation of homeostasis and involuntary bodily functions, and the processing of external information into thoughts, feelings and memories.”

The brain was like nothing she’d ever seen before. A rich forest bloomed before her, tall flowering trees with lights strung along them. The little lights illuminated, one after another, down a row to another tree, then went out. Again and again they flickered and glowed, all up and down the criss-crossing pathways, now an uneven cobblestone.

She was delighted to see the beautiful flowering trees were actually homes- lights flickered from within, and she could see a cell poke his head out of a door, graciously accepting a cup of steaming tea from a yellow-suited man with a floral lapel. AE-3803 could smell the tea as it wafted through the air and her whole body began to feel more relaxed and sleepy.

She shook her head. No time for that- she had a job to do!

3803, from what she had just seen and what her senpai had told her, was pretty sure that the man serving tea was an astrocyte.

Astrocyte: “Maintains homeostatic levels in the brain and central nervous system. Performs a wide variety of tasks such as axon guidance, synaptic support and control of blood flow through the brain. Their role in sleep is not well understood, but it is known that astrocytes produce a hormone called adenosine, which makes us tired. They are called ‘astro’ for their star-like shape.”

The man smiled and bowed his head towards her in greeting, one hand over his heart. 3803 cheerily waved back.

“Hello!” she called out. She waved to the other cell who was just about to go back inside. He blinked and blearily waved back before closing the door.

“Ah, it really is lovely up here!” she sighed, pulling out her notes. “Okay, so there’s a crossroads up ahead… if I take a right, I’ll be in the ophthalmic artery… no wait, is that the cerebral? Maybe I have to take a left? Aaah, I don’t want to get lost! Senpai trusted me with thi-”

She abruptly crashed into something and went flying backwards. The thing grunted and she realized with a jolt that she had collided with an actual person.

“Ahh! I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Eee, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright,” said a familiar voice. “I- oh. Red Blood Cell.”

“White Blood Cell!” 3803 gasped.

The two got to their feet slowly, 3803 feebly trying to conceal her embarrassment, U-1146 honestly just amazed at the fact that his tea hadn’t gone flying out of his hand.

“I’m really sorry!” 3803 said again.

“Don’t be,” he replied. “No harm done. We sure do bump into each other a lot though. I suppose quite literally now.”

“Ahaha, yeah…”

“I’ve never seen you on a night shift before,” 1146 commented. “Where are you headed?”

“Ah, I have a delivery to a cell above the eye!” 3803 exclaimed, some of the enthusiasm returning to her voice. “My senpai thought I should take the night shift since I’ve been able to navigate better in the day, as a kind of challenge. And it’s my first time this far up in the brain too, but I’ve come prepared!”

She held up her notes and he nodded.

“All I have to do,” she pointed to the left, “is take that path straight up to the supraorbital artery! I’ve got it all planned out!”

“Um. Well,” 1146 said quietly, trailing off.

She pointed to the right.

“It’s the other way, isn’t it.”

He nodded.

She just sighed and pushed her trolley along to the right.

In a few moments, the neutrophil had caught up, keeping pace beside her.

“Wait, are we going the same way?” 3803 asked, puzzled.

“Just patrolling,” he replied, sipping his tea. “I thought we could walk together for a bit.”

“Sure!” she agreed, beaming.

They walked in silence for a bit, both taking in the beautiful lights that slowed in their progress as they traveled.

A bright stream of light suddenly went coursing above their heads and out of the brain, lighting the street below almost as though it were day.

AE-3803 shrieked, ducking down and instinctively covering her head.

“What was that?!”

“Just a strong electrical signal sent by the neurons. Probably triggering the hypnagogic jerk. Nothing to be afraid of.”

The red blood cell slowly rose to her feet, and sensing no danger, she continued along the opthalmic artery, the neutrophil following alongside. AE-3803 grabbed her notes.

“Hypnagogic jerk…” she muttered, flipping through the pages.

U-1146 narrowed his one visible eye curiously.

“Ah, it’s when the muscles twitch as sleep starts!” AE-3803 exclaimed. “It’s a normal thing; it happens during stage one sleep!”

“That’s right,” 1146 said, with mild surprise. “Where did you learn that?”

“Oh,” she smiled. “My senpai wanted me to be prepared so she told me what she knows. I took lots of notes, see?”

She flipped through the pages rapidly and U-1146 nodded appreciatively.

“Would you tell me what you know?”

“Eh? Um,” 3803 hesitated, suddenly a little self-conscious. “Don’t you already know these things?”

“I do,” he replied evenly. “But I’m not as familiar with the role of red blood cells at night. I may learn something.”

“Well…” she trailed off, then shook her head, beaming. “Okay! I’ll tell you what I know!”

At that moment, static crackled from his transceiver.

“Ah, one moment, Red Blood Cell.”

“Sure, sure!”

The neutrophil removed the transceiver and spoke into it clearly.

“This is U-1146. No activity to report from the ophthalmic artery. Will continue patrolling through to the supraorbital and continue to report at regular intervals.”

“Cool,” came U-4989′s reply, crackling out from the speaker. “We’ll both end up in the same vein on the way back; guess I’ll see you later!”

“Later,” 1146 replied, then he put away the transceiver. “Sorry, Red Blood Cell. You can start now.”

“Oh it’s no problem!”

1146 took a sip of his tea as she began.

“So,” she said, looking around. “Things seem to have settled down, so I think we’re done with stage 1 sleep and are on to stage 2!”

He nodded.

“This is the time the neurons help make memories! They take the events of the day and decide from there what should be kept and what can be forgotten. Some of them will encode the memories for later.”

She pointed at a neuron, who was feeding a thick cable through a hole in the wall that led inside his house.

“That’s probably what he’s doing right now!”

The two blood cells continued walking, unaware of the bewildered blinking neuron behind them.

“Why was she pointing at me? What am I doing?” he mumbled, sleepy from the chamomile tea. After a moment of confusion, he shrugged and got back to work.

“I believe that neuron was also rearranging the connections between him and his neighbours,” 1146 added.

“He was?”

“Yes. That’s one of the main principles of how neuroplasticity works.”

Neuroplasticity: “The brain’s ability to rearrange and form new neuronal connections in response to learning, experience or injury.”

“So what’s your role in this?” 1146 asked.

“I deliver oxygen and take away carbon dioxide, like usual,” 3803 smiled. “But the blood flow is slower at night, so it’s not as rushed.”

She briefly checked her notes and nodded.

“While I’m up here, I’m supposed to also gather up any loose hormones that didn’t get used today. After I circulate around the heart and lungs, I’ll take what I’ve collected to the liver for the hepatocytes to get rid of.”

A crackling static sound and 1146, briefly apologizing, reported into his transceiver again. A dainty sounding female voice replied and the conversation came to a close.

“You sure are using that a bit more than usual White Blood Cell,” 3803 commented, tilting her head.

“We neutrophils have to at night,” he replied. “There are less of us circulating, but we communicate more to compensate. The other white blood cells; the macrophages and dendritic cells also communicate more, with each other and with us. That was Macrophage just now.”

“I see!”

“Hey,” called a cell from the right. “You, red blood cell!”

“Yes?” she answered, startled.

“Could you take these for me?” he asked, holding up three file folders. “I didn’t use them and they’re just kind of lying around.”

“Oh, of course!” 3803 agreed, taking the folders from him and plopping them on top of her box of oxygen.

“Thank you for your hard work!” the cell said, returning to his house.

“Thank you for yours!” 3803 called out cheerfully after him.

AE-3803 held up the file folders for U-1146 to see.

“These are the hormones I was telling you about. My first collection!”

She looked positively jubilant about the whole thing, even though it was just another job in the life of a red blood cell. U-1146 tipped his hat slightly as the pair continued to meander up the tree-lined arterial pathway.

——————-

“Delta sleep is beginning now,” AE-3803 commented, watching the neurons catch a few zzz’s while their computers’ delta programs ran lazy waves up and down the strings of lights.

“Mm,” 1146 agreed.

A few red blood cells ran by, carrying red and white striated file folders labelled “Growth”.

“They’re taking growth hormone to the muscles in the body, White Blood Cell,” 3803 told him. She sighed wistfully. “I almost wish I’d had that job instead. I’d love to see how the muscle cells repair themselves.”

“Next time?” 1146 suggested.

“I hope so!”

AE-3803 suddenly jolted, her head alert. U-1146 instantly tensed, his fingers itching to grab his knife.

“What happened?”

“I just realized- where are all the T-cells?” she gasped. “There’s usually at least one squad that jogs by, but I haven’t seen any!”

“Ah, they barely circulate in the bloodstream at night,” 1146 told her, releasing some of his tension.

“Where do they go?”

“Actually… no one’s completely sure.”

“Eh?!?” AE-3803 glanced around her with wide eyes, as if a killer T-cell was going to jump out of nowhere all of a sudden.

“They probably go back to the lymph ducts,” 1146 added quickly. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“It’s still kind of scary…” she muttered.

“…it is,” the neutrophil agreed.

“We’re almost there!” 3803 realized, bouncing on her feet excitedly. “The capillary I need should be right up here-”

A rumbling echoed from behind the duo, growing steadily louder.

“Uhh…” the two uttered, hesitantly turning their heads in sync and blanching when they saw what was happening.

Red blood cells raced towards them in a mass of hats, jackets, and trolleys of oxygen.

“W-White Blood Cell?! What’s happening?!”

“It’s-”

AE-3803 screeched as the mass of cells overtook them.

“Ahh! I lost White Blood Cell!” she shrieked, racing just to keep up with the other cells and keep her footing. “White Blood Cell! What’s going on?”

“REM sleep!” a red blood cell on her right shouted.

“REM sleep?”

REM sleep: “Stage of sleep characterized by rapid eye movement, increased pulse and breathing, and muscle paralysis. This is the stage in which dreams take place.”

“Oh, of course!” the red blood cell exclaimed. “The blood flow increases during this stage!”

Running through the supraorbital, packed in with other busy red blood cells, AE-3803 marveled at the way the trees seemed to come to life again, lighting strings along the path, swooping from tree to tree in sparks of light. Slowly, monitors folded down from the branches, acting as projector screens, capturing the light from the neuron’s homes like a feature film.

The dream ran across the projectors like a kaleidoscope of thought, memory and colour as AE-3803 pushed her oxygen along, gazing upwards and all around at the dazzling display.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” a red blood cell shouted as her trolley very nearly collided with his own.

“Aah! Sorry!”

————-

AE-3803 breathed a sigh of relief. REM sleep over, next sleep cycle beginning, oxygen delivered, carbon dioxide and hormones picked up- she was ready to circulate through the heart and lungs again.

Back in the veins, things were a bit quieter, so she had time to do one extra thing before she headed off.

“U-4989!”

The neutrophil whirled around suddenly, speaking around the dumpling he was carrying in his mouth. His hands were occupied with fastening his knife to a large rock.

“Oh, hey Red Blood Cell!”

If the sight confused her at all, then AE-3803 said nothing of it.

“Have you seen White Blood Cell- U-1146? We got separated during REM sleep…”

U-4989 let out a short bark of laughter.

“Yeah, I can take you to him.”

The neutrophil weaved through the red blood cells, the girl close behind him.

“There he is!” U-4989 said, gesturing.

“White Blood Cell! …oh.”

On a bench off to the side of the vessel, U-1146 sat, his head having since bobbed back to allow his tired body to relax.

AE-3803 blinked to ensure she was seeing things right. U-1146… had fallen asleep! Then again, she thought, he must’ve needed the rest after all the work he did.

“Out like a neuron’s signal,” 4989 shrugged, winking.

AE-3803 smiled at the sleeping neutrophil, then patted him on the shoulder.

“Good night, White Blood Cell,” she said softly. She returned to her pathway and hurried off, calling out over her shoulder to 4989 briefly.

“Thank you for your hard work!”

———————————————————————-

Disclaimers:

This series, Hataraku Saibou, was not written by me but by Akane Shimizu.

**RBCs do not actually carry hormones; they are transported through the blood plasma… but since nutrients were represented as being carried by the RBCs (they are also in the plasma), then I think it’s fine.

**The length of time of a sleep cycle is much longer than the time it takes for a blood cell to circulate the body; this was changed merely to give the two main characters a chance to talk for a bit and explain what’s happening.

#hataraku saibou #hatarakusaibou #what happens when we fall asleep #i can learn how to use tumblr i swear #rbc #wbc #red blood cell #erythrocyte #white blood cell #neutrophil #ae-3803 #u-1146 #u-4989 #have i used too many tags???

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