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bnhaobservation · 1 year

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Ramblings about BNHA chap 380

And so finally chap 380 is out…

…and it’s a pretty tame one, more like a fun interlude, possibly to prepare us to something dramatic.

We open with the saving of the floating U.A…. saving that’s actually experiencing technical difficulties as Gentle’s power, even with the boost La Brava gave him, is simply not enough to support all that weight. As U.A. is about to fall into the sea and Gentle takes the blame for not being strong enough, La Brava tells him to hold on because she has nearly finished the program to have U.A. keep flying.

Meanwhile Gentle wonders if Deku leaving means he put his faith in him, then decides Deku couldn’t have realized his presence. Deku actually saw him, but his departing was more to protect the others from Shigaraki’s quirk than anything else.

Gentle’s redemption arc continues as he muses he’s doing all this even though there are no camera and audience (differently from how he used to search for an audience in the past) but he’s still happy to do all this.

The whole speech is to remark he’s doing all this selflessly, having overcome his need to be famous for the greater good. But then he notices the kids from the Business course filming his efforts and again, even if he clearly would like to be filmed and have an audience he tells them to hurry inside because it’s dangerous.

In short this bit too is here to remark how Gentle now is noble and selfless.

It works better than with Lady Nagant, as, although it was made clear Gentle wanted audience and glory, he was also always a gentle person, who didn’t mean to cause harm to innocent bystanders, so it makes sense he worries about the kids.

However the whole is very unsubtle in how this is here to drive home how Gentle is now a new man, completely changed into a full, noble hero, by first having him long for the audience then making him reject it because it could be dangerous for them.

Don’t take me wrong, it’s not bad, it’s just too much all of sudden. We saw him stop ALONE the prisoners from escaping, holding U.A. up and now he’s even refusing audience for safety reasons.

Gentle wasn’t a terrible criminal, but his redemption quest is huge and tossed in fast. Like many things in this war arc, I think it would have worked better if it were presented more slowly.

Also I’m a bit puzzled at how the hero Business course knows about Gentle but whatever, maybe when they saw him they researched on him or saw his video or someone told them about it.

Of course the whole presence of the Business course isn’t there just for Gentle, they have a reason to film what’s going on. They claim Japan is in ruins and the burden fell on Endeavor.

They should have worked on connecting society and heroes but failed to do so… so now they film to re-forge that link.

And okay, I’m not fond of this part.

Things didn’t just crashed because Endeavor sucks at PR so much Hawks had to write his speech, but because there was a lot of destruction, convicts escaped and heroes’ crimes were exposed.

It’s not so much the image… it’s the reveal of the dark side!

Heroes had a great image up until it turned out they weren’t so great and they screwed up big time! That’s what caused people to lose faith in them. Honestly it wouldn’t have been so great if, just because they had awesome PR, everything were to be shrugged off.

What could have said the heroes back then to secure the link between heroes and society? There’s nothing that could excuse Endeavor’s abuse of his family which lead his firstborn to become Dabi or the fact that Hawks indeed killed Twice and his father was a criminal and he kept it all hidden. And, at the same time, they couldn’t erase the huge amount of death and destruction.

Yes, they could have lied and be reassuring like some people wanted or yes, the business hero course could have filmed the whole battle that took place previously and tried to say ‘hey, forget what Endeavor did to his family, he still fought bravely, didn’t he?’

I don’t want to undervalue the importance of documenting things correctly, undoubtedly seeing the hard effort heroes put on that day, could have bought them some points… but the situation that broke everything back then was different by the present one. So, of course, it’s good that the kids are documenting things, especially because it works in favor of people like Gentle, who finally will be appreciated… but it feel like the whole thing is distracting from the real issue that broke society.

Anyway La Brava has apparently solved U.A. problem and now decided to transmit the video the hero course is filming on live… which kind of crashes the purpose of the business course, because an uninterrupted feed of what’s going on isn’t the job of someone doing business trying o keep good public relations but of the press. The press should document the situation, the business course should record the situation and then use the parts of it that could be usable to improve the hero’s relations.

But whatever. I guess/hope this might help the Villains so who cares. Anyway on U.A. Himiko’s Twice clones decide all the heroes must die so while Kurogiri, in what looks like a forest, is having a break up as he doesn’t know anymore of what he’s the protector, Aizawa and Yamada fall off U.A. along with some Himiko’s Twice clones but don’t get splattered on the ground because a warp gate opens below them, likely saving them (Not sure about the Twice clones).

So on U.A. we’ve one of the kids realizing Kurogiri saved their teachers (Aizawa and Yamada) while Mandalay seems to think he only removed Erasure from the place… because evidently if Aizawa ended up splattered on the ground after falling from that height this wouldn’t have the job. I mean, unless she has so much faith he would manage to gracefully land on his feet and be completely unhurt, his idea that Kurogiri is doing it just to remove erasure seems beyond dumb and, story wise, purely misleading.

Back to All for One he… makes a classic Evil Overlord’s mistake as he tattles his whole plan to Hawks.

Why? Because we as the audience need to know.

Which of course means Hawks knows All for One must absolutely not reach Shigaraki. Okay, he probably wouldn’t want him reach Shigaraki anyway but now he has even more reasons not to allow it.

So the two of them ends up into a discussion about to whom belong the tale, if to All for One or to the heroes. Evidently neither of them had learnt to share at kindergarten… or that everyone is the main character of his own story and so that is everyone’s tale (after all if everyone’s weren’t there, there would be no story).

All for One uses some sort of dismembering Quirk on Hawks he hadn’t used until now because… because… no idea. Oh yeah, because that’s not the real Hawks, that’s an illusion Camie from Shiketsu created.

Don’t take me wrong, the scene is hilarious, especially Hawks and Tokoyami’s expression, but it’s just too convenient. If ‘Hawks’ illusion had to be murdered I would have preferred All for One to use his old, trusted Rivet Stab. But whatever, that’s just me. Anyway Shiketsu joins the party because the refuges from U.A. never managed to arrive so they decided to go to battle.

Does that mean that the refugees had to go NEAR THAT AREA? THE ONE IN WHICH ALL FOR ONE WAS SENT? Or Shiketsu just took a huge detour and instead than going to go check U.A. they went there? Without searching for the refugees? I don’t know. At the same time Inasa counters All for One’s statement that the wind is blowing in his favor by blowing away plenty of Himiko’s Twice clones (I hope he didn’t blow away Himiko herself) because he’s the one who control the wind with his wind Quirk apparently solving in a single sweep the problem with them… so yes, Hawks didn’t need to kill Twice, just to use Inasa.

That is unless the wind is going to mess up with Touya and Enji’s flames (like it did with Shouto) and they all end up roasted minus All for One. Of course I’m joking and I’m really, really glad to see the Shiketsu group join the party… but it feels as if too much meat is being put on the fire for the sake of it all at once.

The wind had just blew in favor of the Villains with Kurogiri being back and bringing Twice around as well as Skeptic hacking U.A. for it to end that quickly.

I get the need to have the Shiketsu boys do something and I like them but, it feels more like they’re there just for the sake of showing them doing something before the story ends. Again, maybe it’s just me.

Anyway the chapter ends on this light and hopeful note and when in a story you get a too light and hopeful chapter, it’s generally the prelude to drama so the next time we might learn something apparently tragic happened to U.A. refugees.

On another note All Might left and Nighteye’s prediction of his death at the hands of a ANOTHER Villain and met an unspeakably gruesome death.

I find interesting he said another Villain, which would mean said Villain isn’t the one who sent him in a hospital (All for One). Is Touya, in his quest to steal things from Endeavor, going to burn All Might to death? That would be gruesome and would be interesting because it would be a warped fulfillment of the purpose Endeavor created him for, to beat (surpass) All Might.

Or will it be someone else? Hard to say.

Another source of drama might regard the missing refugees of U.A. that, supposedly, no one is searching. Among them there were the class A parents, like Midoriya’s mom and Bakugo’s mom as well as Enji’s family and the fact they’re missing might be due to All for One’s two allies who infiltrated among them.

And then we’ve of course the matter of Enji and Touya and their faceoff which had been postponed for a lifetime and that I really wants to see.

Or it might be that Shishikura will want to have a word or two with All for One as his father was one of the guard at Tartarus that supposedly was killed when All for One escaped.

So even if this chapter was light and some things weren’t that great, it potentially sets up for more interesting developments.

(On another note at the start of the story we were told that All Might hadn’t talked to Endeavor for 10 years… meaning from when Touya died… so I would love if this were to be a plot point that’ll get discussed… but it can be that actually they’ll let this matter slide). Anyway, that’s all. Let’s see which surprises will be in the next chapter!

#Boku no Hero Academia #BNHA spoilers #Aiba Manami #Tobita Danjuuro #Tsukauchi Naomasa #Toga Himiko #Aizawa Shouta #Yamada Hizashi #Kurogiri #Monoma Neito #Fukidashi Manga #Sousaki Shino #All for One #Takami Keigo #Utsushimi Camie #Yoarashi Inasa #Tokoyami Fumikage #Shishikura Seiji #BNHA Chapter Ramblings

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kaibacorpintern · 4 years

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yuugi and kaiba... platonic... maybe a lil angst like kaiba doesnt know how to have friends and yuugi just accepts him as he is and kaiba can be a kid for once.. for the minific prompt pls? :) thank u.. luv ur blog btw

just thought you should know that when i read this prompt i instantly turned into this and wrote almost 5,000 words. it’s a little angsty and about friendship, but it’s also about loneliness and food and depression, with a few jokes peppered in here and there. DSOD didn’t happen but atem is alive, because i say so. i want kaiba and yuugi to be friends so freakin’ bad.

long story short: i went nuts. thanks for the prompt!!

***

Every day, little by little, Kaiba looked greyer. The lines of his shoulders slouched. The hollows under his eyes deepened, like holes being dug in the dirt, on hands and knees; a slow, miserable burying. To hear him speak was worse. Yuugi heard his voice from thousands of miles away, like he was on a different continent, a different planet, and the light of every thought was crossing the staggering empty silence of space. It terrified Yuugi, to think of Kaiba as fading, that someone who raged with all the thrill and fury of a storm could slow down like this. But he was fading.

“Hey. Are you alright? You seem down lately,” Yuugi tried, on one of the rare mornings where he caught him alone in the elevator, on his way up to the game design department. With no one else around, he usually felt emboldened to drop the act: not an employee with his boss, maintaining proper deference, but someone who’d known Kaiba for a very long time, and knew him like few others did.

The glass-walled elevator whirred as it rose. Kaiba stood there with his arms crossed, impassive, his back to Domino. The city streets unfurled below them.

“The elevator’s going up, Yuugi,” he said, after a full seven seconds of silence. A weak dismissal, by his standards, made even weaker by a toneless delivery.

“Sure. But - ”

With a polite ding, the elevator opened onto the game design floor.

“You’re running late,” Kaiba said, nodding him pointedly out the door.

“Bro, I’m fifteen minutes early,” Yuugi said.

“Don’t fucking ‘bro’ me, ” Kaiba snarled, with all the sudden, twitching ferocity of a nervous dog. Yuugi smiled and slowly backed out of the elevator, his palms turned out, long enough to make his point: he'd come in peace. Kaiba frowned at him, bristling, until the elevator doors started to close. The last Yuugi saw of him, before they touched together, were a pair of blue eyes, their fiery energy winking out like a popped spark, falling shut with a sigh.

At his desk, Yuugi toyed with his phone for a good ten minutes, ignoring emails and his coworkers’ good mornings, his thumb hovering over Mokuba’s contact info as he rehearsed in his head. Hey, how’s Stanford? You enjoying your classes so far? Making friends? Of course you are. Great. Well, so, I’m calling because I’m worried about your brother -

A call like that would put Mokuba on a plane within an hour, honestly. But maybe Mokuba would want to know. Maybe he shouldn’t. Maybe if he left his first quarter of college and returned to Japan, just because his brother had a few bad nights or something, Kaiba would punt Yuugi off the top of the building.

Maybe Atem? The only person Kaiba ever “talked” to about anything, if pummeling each other with card game holograms could be called a conversation. Which they did.

YUUGI What’s eating Kaiba? Is he alright?

He stared at his phone a while longer until remembering it was the middle of the night in Egypt. He put his phone away, put Kaiba out of mind, and got to work.

***

Atem texted back mid-afternoon.

ATEM I don’t know. Go find out

YUUGI Okay but i’m not you lol he won’t tell me. even with a duel

ATEM GO

ATEM FIND

ATEM OUT

YUUGI OKAY I'LL DO MY BEST

ATEM And tell that stuck-up bastard to answer his fucking phone one of these days

Odd. Kaiba never ignored Atem.

YUUGI I’m on it

He finished work late, packed up his things, and headed downstairs to the lobby, moving quickly to catch his train. He had most of a mind to save the Kaiba question for later, go home, and flop face-down on his bed until he roused himself enough to pick at leftovers. The elevated metro station was awash in a crisp dusk light, the navy purple night descending on the day’s final line of gold. His train was coming in three minutes; the next on the same line in thirty-four. He'd just made it.

If he stood at the far end of the platform, craning his neck, he could see the long strip of windows at the top of the KaibaCorp tower. Dark. Kaiba had gone home early. Yuugi frowned, biting his lip, as his train arrived.

He let it go, jostled and swaying in the flood of people flowing in and out of the carriages. The next train took him far from home, flying with sleek electric ease through the glittering glassy black monoliths of the city, and into the leafy, overgrown estates beyond the far edge of town.

***

Kaiba's estate was a brisk walk from the last station on the line, along the side of a road without sidewalks, and through a tunnel of trees that laced their branches together over the road. By the time Yuugi got to the gates, his feet aching in his sneakers, night had fallen. The trees were thick with shadow and wind, whispering to each other in fairy tale voices. It was the kind of night that urged people into their homes, with the doors locked, away from the ancient things that lurked in the undergrowth, wild and forgotten and stronger for it. He was relieved to reach the gates, on the edge of the illumination around Kaiba's mansion, held in the center of the light like a toy castle in a snow globe.

The gatehouse was empty. A security camera peered down at him from the top of a wall, nestled in a thick swell of vines. Ignoring its glossy little eye, Yuugi studied the door in the wall beside the gates, pushing more vines aside to find the keypad. If he called ahead, the chances of Kaiba buzzing him in were next to nothing. They were next to nothing on a good day.

YUUGI do you know the key code for the door?

ATEM 445241474F4E#

ATEM that took me literally years to get

ATEM go around the back. he won’t open the front door

YUUGI you're the best <3

He tapped in the code, carefully. What if he got it wrong? Would a trapdoor open up below his feet? With his back to the quiet road, and the dense, rustling woods on the other side, he swallowed his laugh.

The door opened with a faint click. Yuugi slipped through and began the long walk up the drive to the mansion, sneakers crunching the gravel underfoot. On either side of the drive, the lawns were pristine, every petal of every flower and every leaf on every hedge perfectly in place, holding the poses nature’s hand had fixed them in with effortless ease. Somewhere across the grass, shrouded in the night, came the distant murmur of a fountain.

The mansion itself was an ugly, graceless brick of a building, so rigid and square in its design that its position in the center of this wooded estate seemed an oppressive intrusion. Per Atem’s instructions, Yuugi skirted the front, with its twin dragon statues and Roman columns and imposing front door, and went around to the back, padding silently through the grass. Like the top of the tower, the windows were dark. Every glance through the glass, checking for life, made him feel like he was looking into the bottom of a well, deep and cold and watery, a tomb for hopeless wishing.

At the back of the house was a large patio, with a view of the sprawling grounds, which rolled downwards in a gentle slope, all the way to a line of trees. There, the grounds gave themselves back to the wild. Even on a shivering night like this, it was easy to imagine what the patio was like in the full splendor of high summer, drenched in sunlight and everything shimmering in golden-white heat.

A thin light cast a hazy cloud onto the patio through a pair of sliding glass doors. Yuugi stopped, halfway across the patio, questioning himself for the nth time that night. And if he was overreacting? So what if Kaiba was in a mood? Kaiba was always in a fucking mood. Yuugi had no doubt Kaiba would thunder at him for a while over the arrogance, the audacity of his presumptions or something, and then throw him out by the scruff of the neck. Oh, god. The embarrassment burned in his face already.

Yuugi firmly shoved his own feelings aside. He was a gamer - a gambler - by nature, and he’d learned enough over the years to bet on his own instincts. He gamed it out, in his head, shuddering into the warmth of his jacket as the breeze rolled through him:

He checks on Kaiba, and everything is fine: he goes home feeling awkward and Kaiba avoids him at work for the next three weeks. Acceptable outcome.

He does not check on Kaiba, and everything is fine: he goes home, and the whole night gets written off as a weird, secret little adventure. Acceptable outcome.

He checks on Kaiba, and everything is not fine: unacceptable, but now someone knows. Acceptable outcome.

He does not check on Kaiba, and everything is not fine: Unacceptable outcome.

He stole towards the sliding glass doors. They led into a glossy modern kitchen, as pristine as the grounds, and full of clean, gleaming surfaces. It was completely free of clutter like mail, or keys, or coffee mugs, or any of the other odds and ends that usually piled up over the course of normal days. A bowl of flowers sat on a kitchen table in a breakfast nook, starting to wilt. At the end of the kitchen island was a bowl of fruit. A still-life painting split in two.

Sitting at the island, perched on a bar stool, was Kaiba, his head resting in his folded arms atop the counter. His face was mostly hidden in the crook of his elbow; through the limp tangle of his bangs, Yuugi saw his eyes were closed. His black leather satchel leaned against the leg of the bar stool. The rise of his back as he breathed was slow and subtle, the only thing that convinced Yuugi Kaiba had not turned to stone in his seat. Asleep?

No.

A small blue light rose up from Kaiba's phone, lying on the counter. One hand slowly unfolded, silenced the call, and refolded itself. A gesture that made less than a ripple across the still water of this tableau.

Awake.

Lifelessly, doing nothing. Not even staring into space, but retreating into the space behind his eyelids, a space Yuugi knew intimately well: shallow and lukewarm and wordless, a space for letting hours and days drift by, uncounted. It had been a long time since he’d visited - not since he’d solved the Puzzle - but it was a space he never wanted to revisit. It was a space that stayed with you for the rest of your life, once you’d been there, and yet a space more distant than the farthest star in the universe, beyond the boundaries of both light and love. A place of perfect solitude.

Quietly, carefully, Yuugi tried the handle of the sliding glass door and found it unlocked. He slid it open.

Kaiba startled, pulling himself upright as though yanked by a puppet string on his neck. He turned to Yuugi, still and alert, not quite comprehending. As he understood who stood there, the pieces clicking into place, his eyes hardened in his pallid face, speechless, furious.

“Before you say anything,” Yuugi said, as Kaiba opened his mouth, “I have a story. Let me tell you, and then you can kick me out.”

“This is my fucking house. I can kick you out whenever I damn well please,” Kaiba snapped.

“It’s more of a puzzle, actually. I don’t think you’ve ever solved this one,” Yuugi said.

Kaiba looked at him sideways, now more confused and suspicious than alarmed.

“And if I solve it?” he said, because ah, yes, of course, stakes. Nothing ever for the joy of it.

“Bragging rights.”

“If I don’t?”

“Nothing happens,” Yuugi said.

They stared at each other. Yuugi ventured a smile. Did he dare walk in? He was still standing on the threshold.

“Fine,” Kaiba said, a word more like a sigh. “Come in and tell me your stupid puzzle.”

***

Every house has its own particular smell, its character, its self-contained story about those who call it home. Yuugi took off his shoes, setting them beside the glass door, and frowned. Kaiba's smelled like clean linens, a touch of dust, cool air. A muted smell with no character. He didn't know what he expected. Something else, something thick and wet and heady, like oncoming thunder, or concrete after rain.

On this side of the glass doors, the kitchen was even more exquisite, temptingly so. He knew, from his lusty late-night Internet searches, that the knives in the wooden block alone cost more than several thousand dollars. Untouched! He refused to let them go to waste. Such things were more beautiful when they were held and used and loved, doing what they were made for. And despite the marbled silence, the thin white lighting, this was a house, not a museum. Yuugi dropped his backpack on the floor next to an empty bar stool and turned to Kaiba, who was sitting upright, hands atop his thighs, watching him.

“Uh - do you have anything to eat? I haven’t eaten since lunch,” he said, slinging his jacket over his backpack.

“No. Every night I just plug in and recharge,” Kaiba said dryly. “I believe that’s called a fridge. Those have human food.”

Yuugi bit his tongue, hiding his smile as he went around to the other side of the island. At least Kaiba was still capable of snark. He opened the massive fridge - sparse offerings, sparsely touched - and rooted around, not quite sure what he was looking for between the limp carrots and slabs of smoked salmon. Only the cheese drawer yielded interesting spoils, unspoiled and exotically European.

“The pantry?” he said, nodding at the door next to the fridge.

“Presumably.”

Yuugi found a loaf of sourdough bread on a shelf in the walk-in pantry - a fucking walk-in pantry! - and returned to the counter with his haul: the bread, the butter, a wedge of Gruyere, and a brick of Emmental. “I’m making a grilled cheese. You want one?”

“If it makes you happy,” Kaiba muttered.

“It does, yeah,” Yuugi said, unsheathing one of those glorious, mirror-polished knives from the wooden block. He rolled up his sleeves and attacked the cheeses with relish. “So - the puzzle goes like this. You’re fifteen years old. You’re small for your age, underweight, painfully shy. You get shoved around a lot at school. Before school, after school. Whenever, honestly. No one really sticks up for you, although you try to stick up for them, when you can, and no one really talks to you, because you live in your own little world. Your head’s always in the clouds, and you get really excited over a lot of things no one else really cares about.”

As he spoke, he unearthed a frying pan and set it on the gas stove, slicing off several pats of butter. As they melted, soft and yellow-white, he carved several slices off the loaf, shuddering with secretive pleasure at the fresh crunch of the crust.

“Next time, just bring me your high school diary,” Kaiba said.

Yuugi snorted, buttering the slices and laying them carefully into the pan, where they began to sizzle. He draped the slices of cheese on top. “So you can read everything I wrote about you? No thanks. Anyway. You have one friend, but she’s not always around - her family travels a lot for work. So here you are, a bullied, lonely little oddball, and one day someone gives you a gift. A puzzle.”

“A puzzle in a puzzle.”

“Right,” Yuugi said, pressing down on the slices of bread with a spatula. The butter crackled and spat; a thick, warm smell wafted through the kitchen. “And if you make a wish on the puzzle, it grants your wish when you solve it. So you make your wish, and you solve your puzzle. You know the rest.”

He turned back to Kaiba. “Now I’m here in your kitchen, making you a grilled cheese. So. What did I wish for?”

To his credit, Kaiba was taking it seriously, offering no snide comments about magic or wishing, leaning forward with his arms folded again on the counter. Yuugi let him study him, eyes narrowed and thoughtful, knowing he was running back through all eight years of their shared history, doing the math.

“Well, no one shoves you around any more,” Kaiba said. “Not even me, judging by the fact that I can’t even get you to leave my house. I should’ve known better than to try.”

“Ooh, a compliment. Thanks, I’ll treasure it forever,” Yuugi said, grinning, flipping the sandwiches. Melted cheese oozed from the sides. The bottom slices had toasted to a golden brown. His mouth watered. “Plates?”

“Up and to your left.”

Yuugi opened the cabinets and, standing on tiptoe, eased out two matte black stoneware plates. Fancy.

“You wished for strength,” Kaiba said.

Yuugi slid the grilled cheeses onto the plates and severed them in half with the spatula.

“Nope,” he said, leaning across the island counter to set the steaming grilled cheese in front of Kaiba. The semantic point that his friends and his strength were one and the same seemed irrelevant. He was speaking to Kaiba. He needed to speak in Kaiba’s language. “Strength wouldn’t have solved anything for me.”

“You just said you were getting shoved around - ”

“I wished for friends, Kaiba,” Yuugi said. “Yeah, I was tired of getting shoved around. But I was even more tired of being alone.”

“I - “ Kaiba cut himself off, pressing a sigh through his nose with a tight, pinched expression. Within seconds his face soured. “You make a wish on your magical little trinket, and you get just what you always wanted. How fucking fantastic for you - ”

“Don’t do the aggressive-aggressive thing, it’s not cute,” Yuugi said. “And don’t test me, either. You and I are way past that. Just look me in the face and tell me, honestly, you want me to leave.”

Kaiba turned that ferocious blue gaze on him, silent.

Yuugi waited, holding his gaze.

Thin, languid tendrils of steam rose from their melting grilled cheeses and folded away.

“Don’t tell me you think of me as one of your magic wish friends?” Kaiba said.

“There’s nothing magical about our friendship, no,” Yuugi said, and to his delight Kaiba snorted with amusement. “Now eat, before it gets cold.”

***

They ate, the evening quiet of the kitchen magnifying every fried, crunchy bite. Yuugi had hoisted himself onto the bar stool next to Kaiba, congratulating himself on a well-made grilled cheese. He would’ve made it work even without the expensive knives.

"Don't tell Mokuba," Kaiba said, dabbing at crumbs on his plate with a greasy scrap of bread, "or Atem."

"Don't tell them what?" Yuugi said.

"How you found me. On hour six of staring at a wall.”

"I won't," Yuugi said.

"They don't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself," Kaiba insisted.

"You can, but are you?" Yuugi said.

"Mmh," Kaiba murmured, resting his elbows on the counter and his chin atop his laced hands. “Don’t tell them that, either.”

His eyes rolled sideways, his gaze drifting around the kitchen, through the arched doorway, through the rest of the house, where all the lights were off. Yuugi slid off his stool and selected two pears from the fruit bowl, heavy with ripeness, rinsing them in the sink.

“Did... something happen? Did you get in a fight?” he ventured. “Atem says you’re not answering his calls.”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

The kitchen swelled with silence.

"They left," Kaiba said finally, as Yuugi considered how to cut the pears. A basic wedge cut was too childish. "And I told them to go, enjoy it, make the most of it. They have their own lives to live. Mokuba must've asked me a thousand times if I'd be fine without him if he went to California, and I said yes, go, because I don't need him around. I'm fine. And there's no point in getting angry with someone for leaving if you don't need them in the first place."

The effort must've been massive, Yuugi realized, slicing into the pears, to keep the anger at bay. To dig into the wound and wrench the thing out whole, raw and throbbing, without duels or rubbled islands, and without the help of the people who loved him the most. No wonder he looked so exhausted, so limp; no wonder he was again sinking towards the counter, arms folding, his head dropping like there was a hand on the back of his neck, guiding him down with animal docility.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” Yuugi said.

“What the hell do you know about it?” Kaiba said, semi-muffled by his elbow.

“It feels like there’s this dark little pit in yourself that you can’t stop digging,” Yuugi said, “and when it’s deep enough, you’re gonna curl up and bury yourself at the bottom and sleep for a year. Right?”

Kaiba said nothing, heaving another sigh.

“Sit up. Eat this.” Yuugi thunked a plate of pear in front of Kaiba, each slice wafer-thin, almost translucent, dripping with light. Kaiba dutifully pulled himself up and removed several slices of pear, with jenga-like precision, careful not to damage Yuugi’s artful pinwheeling. “Well?”

“I always feel like this,” Kaiba said, a startling confession, all the more terrifying for the blithe, dismissive tone with which he confessed it. “So what if it’s a little worse than normal? I’ll find my way out of it.”

Yuugi leaned over the counter, hands clasped atop it, business-like.

“I have no doubt in your ability to get out of this,” he said. “But I don’t think you should do it alone. See, I don’t want you to leave, either.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah?” Yuugi said. “I challenge you to a duel. My deck’s in my backpack. I have some new strategies I’m dying to test, and you’re the only one who makes me really fight for it. How about it? Wanna duel?”

Kaiba exhaled, resting his elbow on the counter, his cheek against the back of his hand. He plucked out another pear slice, not eating it; instead just letting it dangle from his fingertips, watching a tiny pearl of water roll off the edge and break apart on the plate with monumental indifference.

Watching him, Yuugi allowed himself a brief, private moment of grief, for Kaiba, knowing he wouldn’t want it, and he’d be insulted if he knew. To have your heart broken by what you love was one thing; to swing from love to hate was another; but to stand still and feel your love go, leaving nothing in the hollow it left behind, was the worst.

With a light flick, Kaiba released the slice of pear, his gaze drifting again.

“No. I’m tired of fighting,” he said sullenly, so dull a sound that Yuugi sucked in a breath, two dueling thoughts colliding with concussive impact in his chest. Good, stop fighting, why don’t you finally get some rest, and the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and shout no! keep fighting! I know you’re in there!

Kaiba lifted his head, looking at Yuugi with an air of steeling himself. “Okay. What... what do you want from me?”

Yuugi almost laughed, but caught himself. No good things came from laughing in Kaiba’s face.

“Other way around,” he said, drawing a circle in the air with his finger. “This is about what you want from me. Whatever you need. Whatever you want.”

Kaiba frowned, thinking.

“Do you seriously believe the magic of the Millennium Puzzle helped you make friends?” he said.

"Um. Well, it was more like a domino effect, you know? A chaos theory, butterfly hurricane kind of thing - “

“Magic had nothing to do with it. It was all you,” Kaiba said, with more heat and passion than he’d shown in weeks. “But you have to understand I’ll never be your ‘bro’ - ” couching the word in air quotes, a disdainful pair of twin finger twitches - “and I’m not one of your little pals, like Jounouchi, or whatever. That’s not who I am. That’s not how I do it.”

“I know,” Yuugi said. “Listen - ”

“I don’t - ” Kaiba huffed and scowled at the counter, at his blurred, misty reflection. “I prefer to handle things on my own. I always have. I don’t - know how - ”

“Kaiba.”

Kaiba looked up, shoulders stiffening, his face tight and stricken.

“I know,” Yuugi said. He let that hang between them until Kaiba’s shoulders had eased out of their anxious coils. “Don’t worry. I’m not adding you to the group chat or anything. I don’t expect anything from you except the occasional bitchy comment, and maybe a good, boisterous laugh, from way deep down in your chest, like when you draw Blue-eyes in a duel. You know, the ‘I got you now, fucker’ laugh.”

Kaiba laughed - a laugh at half-power, lacking his usual trumpet blare of triumph, but a laugh nonetheless. “You are an oddball.”

“Birds of a feather,” Yuugi said smugly, and checked his phone. It was getting late. “Okay. I think I’ve bothered you enough for the night - ”

“You’re not bothering me. Are you taking the train back into the city?”

“Yeah.”

“What line?”

“Red line,” Yuugi said, and was struck by an idea. "Why? Somewhere you wanna go?"

"I'm in the mood to get out of the house for a while," Kaiba said. "It's too fucking quiet in here without Mokuba."

Yuugi fixed him with a look. "Yeah, so one of the interns was telling me about a new arcade that just opened off the Ishibashi station. I was gonna go after work with the guys to check it out some time, but..."

He didn't even need to finish the thought. Despite his best effort to hide it, something hopeful had bloomed across Kaiba's face, rich and warm. It made Yuugi ache to see that look, and to wonder what he would've wished for at fifteen, freshly cast from the forge and still hard and brittle and white-hot with rage, burning everyone who touched him.

"Get your coat, let's go," Yuugi said, and Kaiba almost sprang off his bar stool. "Wait - finish the pear. I cut it fancy for you and everything."

Kaiba rapidly ate the pear. "The grilled cheese was excellent, by the way."

"Really?"

"Yes. If you come back and make me another, I'll make all the bitchy comments you want."

Yuugi laughed. "Deal."

***

ATEM did you talk to him?

Yuugi leaned against the polished wooden edge of the pool table, his thoughts whirling in his head lazy and kaleidoscopic. He was halfway through his third beer. They'd gone through air hockey. The racing games. The shooting games. Foosball. Kaiba had spent fifteen minutes at the claw machine, winning a plush Kuriboh for a middle schooler and pressing it into her hands with a firm explanation of how the machines were rigged against her.

Then they'd found the pool tables, in a dim little corner, the green felts shining like tropical islands in a shadowy red-brown sea under the hanging lights. Yuugi was still smarting from the whipping, which Kaiba had delivered with almost careless ease, drink in hand.

"Yuugi. Look," he said, leaning over the table, aiming the pool cue at some bizarre constellation of pool balls, his long shadow falling across the felt.

"Give me a sec," Yuugi said, and swiftly rescued Kaiba's sweating old-fashioned from the edge of the table.

YUUGI ya. now he's showing off

YUUGI trick shots at the pool table

ATEM so he's fine?

"You're not looking," Kaiba said, lifting his head. "Look."

"I'm looking," Yuugi said.

The cue moved smoothly between Kaiba's fingertips as he aligned his shot - sleek, frictionless, silent - with a quick, sharp thrust he sent the pool balls smashing into each other, cracking like lightning across the table and vanishing into the pockets. The last ball rolled towards the last pocket with slow, melodramatic flair, teetering over the lip, like it knew exactly who had struck it, and what kind of show it needed to put on.

It dropped in, clattering into its fellows at the bottom of the pocket.

Kaiba laughed, triumphant, glowing with youthful glory, catching the victory by his hip with a yank of his fist.

YUUGI he will be

"Did you see?" Kaiba said, turning to Yuugi. The lines under his eyes were still there; the seams that held him together, pulling apart. Those would take some time to repair.

But for the moment he was radiating with energy, beaming, star-like in the dim electric gloom of the arcade. Not hidden in the blackness of space, but brighter for it. Despite it.

"I saw," Yuugi said.

#shark-platinum #fanfiction #rivalshipping #it's not romantic but it gets the tag because *ben wyatt voice* its about the dynamic

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cali-holland · 4 years

Text

Golden Hearts, Ch. 1: You Only Live Twice

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond AU ~ Sequel to Golden Bullets

Following a messy split, Harrison, Agent 007, resumes his role as an elite womanizer, after his recovery from his previous mission; meanwhile, you’ve stepped back from your 00 status, taking on cases as MI6’s assistant director from your office. When a new threat emerges to MI6 and a dear friend gets kidnapped, can you and Harrison set aside your differences to save special agent Q, better known as Tom? Or will the stakes- and your love, push you two further apart?

Word Count: 3400

Gif is not mine

Golden Hearts Masterlist

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list

Warnings: talk of kidnapping/death/weapons dealing; someone gets thrown on the ground but they’re fine; knives??

Featured Song: “You Only Live Twice” by Nancy Sinatra from You Only Live Twice (1967)

~ “You only live twice, or so it seems, One life for yourself, and one for your dreams “

~~~

Your breath hitched in your throat as you tightened your grip on your gun. Slowly, you peeked out from behind the tattered down wall, checking for any oncoming motion. With the coast clear, you made your way down the hallway, illuminated with fluorescent blue lights, making your white shoes glow in the dark. At the end of the hallway, you let out a small sigh of relief and pressed your back flat to the wall. You turned to look down the next hall, watching as figures passed by laughing and screaming in joy. You tried to spot your target, finger itching to pull the trigger.

Before you could continue your journey along the dark halls, you heard an electronic bang! ring out and you looked down as your red vest and gun lit up and changed to a plain white.

“Damn you-” You muttered, starting to turn around to face the man who’d shot you, but you were cut off by him kissing you. His hands leaned on the wall, pining you between it and him.

“Harrison 3, Y/N 0.” He smirked, and you playfully scowled at him. “Who would’ve known you sucked so much at laser tag?”

“This gun,” You held up your now white plastic gun, “is nothing like an actual gun. It’s not at all realistic for a gun to be this light.”

“You’re just a sore loser.” Harrison teased, his blue eyes lighting up even more from the blue lights surrounding the two of you.

“Are you going to let me go?” You asked, biting your lip. Your fingers trailed along the lit up blue vest he wore as his laser tag vest. “Or are we going to spend our last ten minutes of laser tag doing something else?”

“The latter sounds pretty fun.” He replied, leaning in to kiss you again. Not caring about anyone seeing the two of you make out in a dark corner, Harrison got lost in the heated kiss. Meanwhile, you had other plans. Still kissing him with the same passion as he kissed you, you let your free hand make its way to his neck, tugging on the hair at the base of his neck, knowing exactly how wild that drove him.

You smiled into the kiss as you heard your gun light up again, telling you that you were back in the game. Harrison heard the small noise too, but he couldn’t react fast enough and you had already shot his vest with your gun.

“Oh, my bad, were you not expecting that?” You smiled innocently. Harrison just laughed before his lips found yours again.

You woke up with a jump, a thin layer of sweat covering your anxiety filled body. Instinctively, you reached for the gun that you kept in your bedside table, but you stopped as soon as your fingers touched cold metal. You were fine, no one was in the room with you, you didn’t need the protection.

Running a hand over your face, you groaned and trudged your way out of bed. Why did you have to have that stupid dream of your stupid ex? It was frustrating to think you and Harrison were once living your best lives together as special agents by day and lovers by night. Your relationship with him was thrilling, lively, fun— it brought out a whole new side of you. But the fun stopped when you left your 00 status; unbeknownst to Harrison, that was to help with the merge of MI6 and Nine Eyes. A part of you also hoped that maybe if you were to take your job as assistant director more seriously then you could feel safer about your relationship with Harrison, which no one except for Tom knew about. The last thing MI6 needed was for two 00’s to get caught up in love and forget their main duty to their country.

As you went about your morning routine, you did your best to forget all thoughts of Harrison and to instead focus on deciphering Tom’s message. L’Americain? Who or what was that? It simply meant The American in French— did he mean the American these men were trying to find? A part of you thought that maybe Tom didn’t even know. He was away on a family vacation, one that shouldn’t have involved him in such an odd affair. He never sent you encrypted messages, and you had a gut instinct that something was wrong, but it was a mystery that you weren’t sure how to solve.

“Is everything alright?” Moneypenny asked, poking her head into your office the next day as you sat at your office chair, head in your hands, desperately wanting to somehow leave this paperwork behind to go to sleep and rest your mind. You sat up straight in your plush chair and cleared your throat.

“Yes, everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” You replied, biting back a yawn.

“You seem tired,” She trailed off while she stepped into the room, coming to stand in front of your desk, “And distracted.”

“Just had a bit of trouble sleeping peacefully is all.” You lied. You suspected by MI6’s general lack of acknowledgement towards Tom’s absence and email that you were the only one to have received the message.

“M is having a meeting in an hour with C and would like you to join him.” Moneypenny explained her appearance in your office before you could even ask.

“Lovely.” You gave her your best smile, and she chuckled lightly, seeing right through you.

“I would say you’re going to have to try a lot harder at being polite in front of C, but rumor has it he’s quite fond of you.” She teased you.

“Oh please, it’s all just politics.” You joked, “C has a thing for any woman in power, just like most of the 00’s. He infuriates me.”

You paired your comment with a roll of your eyes, pulling a proper laugh from your friend before you. He, honestly, was just as bad as the rest of them- cocky, immature, seeking attention, not afraid to pick a fight with you just to see you riled up. “Speaking of 00’s, 007 has been trying to reach you.”

“Great. I’ll be sure to get back to him,” You paused as if you were thinking of a time frame, “Never.”

“What ever happened to you two? You came back from that Goldfinger mission as the world’s best pair, and then one day-“

“We grew apart.” You said sharply and she pursed her lips, nodding her head a little.

“Well,” She made her to the door, “Keep your secrets then, 006.”

“That’s not my title anymore.” You reminded her, but still couldn’t help the smile that graced your face at the name. Moneypenny sent you a quick wink before stepping out of your door.

When the door clicked shut, you let out a breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding. Shaking your head, you turned back to your computer to refocus yourself on your work. You still needed to iron out a few details for Harry’s first mission, black market technology dealers in Japan. You were proud of your pupil, but you couldn’t maintain your focus on this project; your mind kept wandering back to Tom.

Pulling up a new encrypted tab, you accessed Tom’s message from last night. Being MI6’s assistant director had its perks, and accessing confidential documents under the radar was one of them. You ran the images he sent through the facial recognition system and waited anxiously for it to come back. Once the scan was complete, you looked through the files for any possible connections, but there were none— these men all had records in Spain yet they weren’t connected at all. They didn’t serve at the same prisons or even at the same times; there were no visible connections. Only one man was unidentifiable, but, with his back to Tom’s camera, his face was completely obscured. He may have been the leader of it all or he may have just simply been another gun-for-hire type like the rest of them; none of it made sense to you.

Next, you pulled up the search engine for MI6’s complete database. Typing in L’Americain, you hoped that maybe there was something. There were so many possibilities, but none of them were connected to these men or Spain or Tom. It’s like every single piece of information in the message was a dead end, and nothing felt more discouraging than having no clue what to do past this point. You checked the clock and realized it was time for your meeting with M and C. You quickly closed out of the encrypted message, keeping it as secretive as possible.

“Good afternoon, Agent Y/L/N.” M greeted you as soon as you stepped into his office. He sat at his desk, and Max Denbigh, also known as C, was across from him, reclined in one of the two office chairs.

“Good afternoon.” You replied, taking your seat besides C.

“We have reached an agreement with Nine Eyes about the merge.” M began, wasting no time in discussing the significant matters. “MI6 will merge with Nine Eyes in one week, effectively making British intelligence a prominent member of global security.”

“And what of the 00? What about our agents currently in the field?” You asked, mind flickering back to Harry’s impending mission.

“00’s are a thing of the past.” C stated in a solemn tone, but you could see the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “The world is changing. We don’t need men in suits running amok when technological security is the real future.”

You raised an eyebrow at his words. “00’s are the backbone of MI6 and British intelligence, and they are not just men, or have you forgotten that I’m a 00 agent too?”

“I thought you were retired from field work.” He replied. Your shoulders tightened at the bitter reminder that had slipped your own mind. You refrained from physically shaking your head to wash those thoughts away. As much as you hated it, he was right; you’re not a 00 agent anymore, you’re ‘retired from field work’.

“When the merge occurs,” M continued, passing off C’s comment, “then the 00’s will be recalled from field work. Agent 003 will be the last official agent.”

Before you could speak up about your concerns again, a phone began to ring and C stood up from his chair. He smiled politely at the two of you, “I really should take this, and I believe we have filled in Agent Y/L/N on the merge, so I’ll be going now.” And, without another word, he exited the room. You watched his retreating figure, eyeing the oddly anxious hand that clutched his phone.

“Agent Y/L/N,” M called your attention back to him, and you turned back to face him. You watched as he ever so slowly clicked off the recording device on his desk, the one used to ensure all his meetings are documented, “Have you heard anything from Agent Q?”

“No, sir.” You replied without a second thought.

“He was on holiday in Spain, and I was alerted this morning that his tracker was turned off.” He spoke slowly, watching for any reaction from you.

You swallowed a thick lump in your throat. The high-tech tracker was perhaps the most important device Tom had ever made. If removed from the agent, its location could still be found, but, if turned off completely, the agent’s either gone rogue or- well, you didn’t want to think of that other option. Considering the message from last night, though, you feared the worst.

“Agent Q was the highest ranking agent, next to you and me, meaning no one else knows of this information. I also received this note today.” M slid over a manila folder, labeled “Top Secret” across the top.

Curiously, you opened it. There was a single piece of paper inside with a crude drawing of a kite. The paper simply read “Cuckoo”. You looked up at your superior, silently questioning what it meant.

“‘You’re a kite dancing in a hurricane’.” He said, “That’s what Oberhauser once told me.”

“Oberhauser? You mean-”

“The man behind S.P.E.C.T.R.E., the one that started it all. ‘Cuckoo’ is his calling card.” He paused, “I suspect Oberhauser- and therefore S.P.E.C.T.R.E.’s remains, are somehow connected to Agent Q’s disappearance.”

“But Oberhauser is dead, and Harrison and I stopped Goldfinger; we stopped S.P.E.C.T.R.E..” You stated in disbelief. Of all the possibilities of Tom’s disappearance, you never thought the notable and dead criminal organization would find its way back to you.

M shifted in his chair, nervously. “I’m afraid we can’t be certain of any of that now, but, if he has somehow returned, we must be prepared; Oberhauser would want a game. Q’s disappearance couldn’t have come at a more intense time with the Nine Eyes merge next week. I know you, Y/L/N, and I know Q has told you something about this, something that has made you itch since you’ve arrived here this morning. But you cannot go after him. I need you here with me. Trust is thin right now, and I can’t afford to lose any more agents. Do you understand?” There was a stiff seriousness in the air as he spoke. His cold eyes looking at you with a newfound intensity, as if he was studying you.

“I understand.” You nodded, biting your tongue as you did so. Slowly, you stood from the chair and made your way out of the room without another word.

As you made your way back into your office, you felt the weight of the situation begin to settle uneasily in you. You knew the delicateness of MI6’s current state, struggling for control with Nine Eyes while getting thrust into the wide spectrum of global cyber intelligence. And then there was Tom, your close friend and MI6’s technological genius, who was currently missing, and now you’ve been told to abandon any thought of rescuing him. It made your stomach twist in guilt, but M was right— Britain needed you here, not chasing L’Americain and other ghost trails for Tom.

That night, you stopped by your favorite takeout place on your way home, seeking some sort of comfort food. You were exhausted by the time you got home and were completely set on just helping yourself to some food and watching TV. You placed your takeout bag on the counter and unloaded its contents.

You reached for a clean plate from your drying rack and spotted a dark figure behind you through the reflection on the sink faucet. Maintaining your cool, you grabbed the plate and a knife and fork from the rack, setting the plate and fork down in front of you. You felt the floorboard bend behind you, and, with one hand clutching the knife, you grabbed the arm of the mystery figure with your free hand and twisted it. Turning, you swept your feet under his, and he fell flat on the ground. Straddling his torso, you threateningly pressed the blade of the knife to his neck before you realized who it was, which only made you tighten your grip on the knife.

“I see you still know how to show a man a good time.” Harrison stated, chuckling almost nervously.

“And would you look at that- I’m still on top.” You said as you let go of him and stood up from on top of him. You went back to dishing up your dinner, “What do you want?”

“You say that like I can’t just stop by and visit you.” He got up from the floor and rubbed his wrist a little, sore from you twisting it so aggressively before.

“Why did you break into my apartment and sneak up on me?” You rephrased your original question.

“It’s not breaking in if I still have a key. You really should change your locks.” Harrison came to stand by you at the counter while you avoided his eyes. Ready to make himself at home, he reached for a spare plate, one hand leaning on your kitchen towel. You stabbed your knife down onto the towel, right between his fingers, and he took that as your wordless threat to not touch your food. You grabbed your plate and sat down at your small dinner table, ready to eat your meal. Harrison’s eyes wandered around the room as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. His eyes landed on the steak knife in the dartboard on the wall.

“Got a thing for knives now?” He asked, pulling the knife off the dartboard. He set the knife in the sink, before looking at you curiously, “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m not sanctioned to carry a gun, not as assistant director.” You said quietly. “Now, what the hell do you want?”

“Right. Anyway, it’s Tom.” Harrison leaned on the counter across from you, watching as you froze a little at the mention of your mutual friend. “He sent me an email last night-”

“L’Americain.” You stated, looking him in the eye for the first time since you so unceremoniously threw him on the ground. “I got the same message.”

Harrison seemed to light up hopefully at your words, “Good, so you can run some tests and figure out-”

“MI6 has no record of L’Americain. It’s not a place or a person or even a classified object. I have just as much intel on the matter as you.”

“And the men? In the photos?”

“They’ve all got criminal records in Spain, but, besides that, nothing. They don’t have connections to each other. L’Americain is a dead end for now.” You said, taking a bite of your dinner in hopes to end the conversation. It was silent for a moment, and you hoped that meant this was it, but then Harrison spoke up again.

“I’m going to Spain,” He paused, “and Harry’s coming with me.”

“Harry has his first mission across the world tomorrow. He cannot go to Spain.” You stated, and Harrison sighed, taking a seat beside you at your dinner table. You continued to eat your meal, doing your best to act unaffected by his close presence.

“He cares more about his brother than his mission. We need to find L’Americain and find Tom. Come with us, you know you want to.” Harrison encouraged.

“I can’t, and you shouldn’t either.”

“And why not? Tom’s my best friend—“ He began, and you cut him off.

“It’s dangerous.” You said, looking back at your food to avoid his striking eyes.

“Dangerous? Do you not remember what it’s like to be out there in the field?” Harrison questioned, standing up from his seat and walking around the table until he was in front of you, while you just simply continued on with your dinner.

“I remember. M needs me here with him. Trust is thin right now, and he can’t afford to lose any more agents.” You fed him the same lines your superior had told you.

“You’re really just going to do nothing? You’re not even going to try to go save our friend? Our friend, who's the reason that we’re alive today?” He stepped back from the table, eyeing you suspiciously. You just nodded in response before slowly lifting your head to look at him. The moment your eyes saw his blue ones staring intensely back at you, you realized your mistake. Harrison could tell- he could see right through the facade and knew exactly how vulnerable you were.

“I’m not going to Spain.” You repeated, not breaking the stare. You watched as his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. He let out a deep sigh before making his way to the door.

“Plane leaves at 1 tomorrow.” Harrison turned and gave you one final look before he left out the door, slamming it shut with more force than necessary.

You sunk back into your chair, shutting your eyes as you tried to steady your racing heart. You stayed like that for a few moments, until your mind felt at ease. When your eyes opened, they landed on the single postcard that was tacked to the wall in front of you, right beside the Italy themed calendar that had been left on an image of Venice from four months ago.

The Paris postcard seemed to glare at you as it read in golden, swirly letters “Thinking of you in the City of Love”. You didn’t even need to look at the back of it to know that a red 007 was signed on the other side.

Knowing what you needed to do, you let out a groan, “Damn you, Harrison.”

~~~

General Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-holland @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorillaglue23 @petersoftboyparker @musicalkeys

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#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield series #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield one shot

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sins-of-the-sea · 3 years

Text

Somewhere in New York City...

Despite having put out his cigarettes in his ash tray, smoke was filling the flat to the point of clouding one's eyes as Scott Macintyre can be found half asleep in front of his laptop in his kitchenette. Mitra had to step over boxes and clutter just to approach him.

"Scott?"

"Mm. Ms. Chavan?"

"I haven't heard any updates from you in a while. Is everything all right in your research of the Devil's Eye and the Seven Deadly Sin Pirates?"

"Mm. I'm all right. All of this is just telling me why historians and academic research requires its own graduate program and experts hold doctorate degrees."

"It's.... heavy stuff, I am aware. What have you learned so far?"

"Well.... I got something about La Brujula-- the one treasure the Seven are very likely searching in order to get anything accomplished after wandering the earth for over five hundred years."

"Is that so? What have you learned?"

"You know how in the third Pirates of the Caribbean film, Jack Sparrow's compass directs its user to wherever they desire? It seems to work on the same principle, or at least that's how some accounts claim. Though curiously, there is one location that seems to have much more specific legends regarding this Compass in detail.... and those legends are from the Philippines."

"The Philippines?? That's a curious location, I would have thought maybe China or India or Spain or-"

"There is precisely a reason why there, and they actually involve the countries you sampled directly.

"The islands we know as the Philippines today was a very critical crossroad of worldwide trade long before the Magellan Expedition arrived, with its trade history going back as far as the 10th history with different partners including India, China, Arabia, but also their more immediate neighbors such as Japan, Korea, Malaysia, Vietnam, and so forth. Even before the Spanish came, the Philippine Islands was a melting pot of cultures between the many tribes and settlers who came there, as its thousands of islands allowed individual tribes to develop and thrive. When the Magellan fleet arrived, they were really just one more society the natives were coming into contact--by that point, kingdoms and cities have been built and thriving."

"So the specificities of La Brujula was a result of common ideas coming together? I would have thought, though, because the name of the artifact is Spanish...."

"Oh, it's related to Spain, all right--almost all legends agree that La Brujula is specifically a European Medieval or Renaissance dry compass. It is described as pretty large for a compass with a barely functioning needle and a missing card."

"Par the course of something old, but nothing special.... but I am assuming that is precisely why it's so difficult to find, yes?"

"That, and one other thing--it's alive."

"...What?"

"The vague legends from around the world on La Brujula simply states that it is capable of showing you where you want to go to reach what you desire. What some maritime legends specify are that it not only knows what you want, but it knows where all the treasures of the world are and can take you to them.... if it deems you worthy. But Philippine legends state that if you are NOT worthy... the compass can just... up and leave."

"As in..... somehow get up and walk away?"

"Something like that. One anecdote from a museum curator in the Ayala Museum in Makati states she once saw the compass, previously placed onto its stand on its bottom, found ten minutes later somehow on its side and pressed against its glass case--but there is no evidence someone bumped into the case to move it the way it did, and the case itself is difficult to lift and move just 'accidentally'. Another time, when the compass was placed in the Metropolitan Museum of Manila, the security cameras found it just... sliding off its display podium. No wind, no person around. Many people say a ghost was the one responsible for this, as, well, the Philippines are fond of their ghost stories... but the theory that the compass is alive matches a letter supposedly written by St. Emilio himself.

"Sea amable con la Brújula, porque ella será su guía. Protégela de los pecados del mar si la llevas contigo, o el Diablo te quitará el alma."

"’Be kind to the Compass, for she will be your guide. Protect her from the sins of the sea should you take her with you, or else the Devil will take your soul away.’"

".....'Her'?"

"I don't know, it seems to be a literal translation, until I double-checked the quote: he says 'porque ella será su guía' and not 'ya que será su guía', like he is explicitly referring to the Compass as a female entity rather than a genderless object."

"But Spanish is a gendered language as is, is it not?"

"That's what I thought, and quite frankly, even if St. Emilio is speaking about La Brujula like a woman, he's just being poetic. Though of course, this is all granted you do not believe magic exists...."

"So what are you proposing?"

"I'm keeping my mind open for now for any possibility, but at current, I am going with the assumption that the compass may not just be sentient--but also directly linked to the one the Seven are serving, and that it should be kept away from the Seven Deadly Sin Pirates at all costs. St. Emilio's letter isn't just a plea to be nice to the Compass, but also a warning to keep it from the Seven. Right now, the public reason the Compass is being sent all over the world in different displays is to educate the populace on the history of worldwide travel--but the actual reason are due to the magicians working with the curators."

"To keep her away from the Seven... so that why the Seven struck the New York curators as they did?"

"Yes. Supposedly this is where she is being transferred, but it turns out to be a decoy. I am trying to get into contact with the magicians in charge of protecting La Brujula, but......"

"But....."

"....I have a record. So I'm at a dead end."

"I... am so sorry, Scott. Is there anything I can do for you right now? Maybe help you clean up this mess?"

"Oh, God, I am so sorry for the mess, Ms. Chavan. We don't have to worry about that tonight, we can just- is that my phone?"

"It is! Here."

"Whu-.... I don't recognize this number. Hello? Yes, this is Scott Alan Macintyre of the former Magnificent Macintyres, how did you get this number-

"THE FBI?!?!"

"EEP!! WHAT DID YOU DO, SCOTT?!?!"

"Calm down, Mr. Macintyre. You're not in trouble. I was able to track you through... unconventional means that have nothing to do with the backing of the agency. In fact, they don't know I'm doing this. But the moment I found out a magician, of all people, is trying to find out the current location of La Brujula, I had to find out how to contact you."

"......................

"......................"

".......................This concerns the Seven, does it?"

#there have some legends of La Brujula if you are a non-historian #this does not have to apply to our threads #but the legends still apply #[Guest: Scott Macintyre]#[Guest: Mitra Chavan]#[Arcelia Frascona]#smoking tw

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

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can we have more izuku + shinsou with a darling, maybe they managed to get away? 👀 creative, i know

The poor Yanderes… they’d be so upset, especially if they couldn’t find their partner immediately. I just hope they lighten up by the time they find you.

TW: (Financial and Situational) Manipulation, Isolation, and Toxic Relationships.

Shinsou didn’t think you’d recognize your room, when you came back.

He’d tried so hard to make it cozy for his kitten, when Midoriya first brought you home. Your bed had been big enough for all three of you, your chains padded and polished to a shine, the walls painted a lovely shade of pastel blue and diligently repainted when you decided they’d look better with claw-marks and chipped paint. Bookshelves were stuffed into every corner, all the hand-helds and gaming systems money could buy scattered in pieces across the floor, and any hobby you had, any hobby you wanted would’ve been available to you with little more than a little affection and a fucking ‘please’. There used to be cushions on every hard surface, enough comforters and blankets to drown in, but… those were all gone, now.

The walls were white, the color so absent it was blinding. What furniture you hadn’t destroyed during your short stay was locked in a storage closet on the other side of the house, the only things Shinsou approved of being a nailed-down cot and a single pillow, after they decided things would already be unpleasant enough without giving you another reason to complain. The luxuries and play-things they’d given you were discarded, your wardrobe stripped down to outfits they’d picked, not that either one had a problem with forcing you to go without clothing altogether. The handful of locks on your door had been replaced with a reinforced barrier, two security cameras constantly moving in the room’s corners, always buzzing, always reminding you of their presence, of your partners.

Hopefully, it’d help you not to forget about Shinsou and Midoriya forget so easily.

Speaking of Midoriya, his panting had managed to draw Shinsou out of his thoughts, green sparks still flying around him and only fading as the other boy draped an arm over his partner’s shoulders. He’d never been one for the touchier parts of a relationship, but Midoriya needed comfort, and he couldn’t imagine a Pro-Hero admitting this particular condition to very many people. A kiss to the side of his head was all he needed to drop the tension in his shoulders, and soon enough, Midoriya was back to staring at the floor, biting his cheek nervously. The damn thing had to be raw, by now.

“I think that’s enough for today, Izuku,” Shinsou started, scanning over the new dents around the air-duct Midoryia had been working on. They’d been alternating between destroying and securing every escape route, rebuilding anything that you could’ve even thought about escaping through. “Why don’t you relax? I haven’t seen you unwind in days, it’s not healthy.”

He sighed before he answered, shaking his head, more for himself than for his companion. Midoriya had always been the more emotional one, the worrier of the two. Shinsou didn’t understand it, more focused on correcting the mistakes he’d already made and moving on, but that paranoia was going to be the thing that dragged you back home, eventually. “It’s just… what if (Y/n)’s lost?” He was toying with the hem of his shirt, now, ignoring Shinsou’s attempts to take his hand. “It’s been such a long time, we don’t know how different things have to look, and you know our angel gets scared in a new environment. What if it rains? Fuck, what if it snows? What if they’re trying to come home but can’t-”

“Then we’ll find them,” Shinsou insisted, keeping his voice even as he cut Midoriya off. There’d been non-stop patrols, calls to other Heroes and so much paperwork, but you’d been made Japan’s top-priority, news-stories making you out to be an endangered hostage or some menacing villain or whatever else Shinsou had thought of, in the moment. You wouldn’t be able to leave your hiding-spot, let alone the city before someone stopped you. “Hey, you’ve still got those credit cards, right? Their ID? They can’t go far without those, right?”

Midoriya smiled at this, albeit sadly. He’d refused to let go of your personal items, from hairbrushes to bed-sheets to the aforementioned credentials, but their raid of your apartment had freed you of anything and everything useful. Midoriya was sentimental, but it wasn’t difficult to point him towards your passport, and any money you’d stored away was already long-drained.

You were broke, homeless, trapped.

A mouse who’d run into its hole, and now had to deal with the cat prepared to starve it out.

But, Shinsou didn’t say that to Midoriya. Instead, he grinned, pecking at his boyfriend’s cheeks until Midoriya was laughing and swatting him away, only then bothering to step in front of him. Midoriya let Shinsou take his hands this time, too, not resisting when Shinsou began to tug him towards the door. “C’mon, you need to sleep. You’ve been staying up later than me, lately.”

“Fine,” Midoriya whined, letting Shinsou guide him into the less restrictive part of the house. He was thankful for Shinsou’s change in mood, to tell the truth, even if he did seem to be taking your disappearance rather lightly. But Shinsou had just been so supportive lately, so sweet and clever and adorable…

Midoriya couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like in your old chains.

Just out of curiosity, of course.

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savannahsdrabbles · 4 years

Text

Ocean Song - Part One

rating: PG summary: Marine biology student April O’Neil makes a startling discovery.

notes: An AU originally based off of the 2012 TMNT universe, but can be compatible with most versions of the characters. <3 2.7k words. A03 link can be found here. Also special thanks to @cloakedrabbit and @starfiretheninja for beta-reading!

Looking back on the past couple of days’ events, April should have realized that kidnapping an endangered creature was a bad idea.

Well, scratch that.

Maybe attempting to break into a high security laboratory was where she went wrong. Or –

“This is totally wicked!” Casey Jones hollered from the driver’s seat as they took another sharp turn, tires spinning and spitting gravel up into the windshield wipers that were already working overtime. The creature in the backseat squawked and flailed as he skidded across the torn upholstery, desperately trying to sink his claws into something to keep from being thrown about like a rag doll.

“Slow down – and calm down!” The red-head snapped first towards the driver, and then over her shoulder at their passenger as she rapidly typed away on her laptop. A large jolt suddenly rocked the Jeep to one side and then the other, and April threw her arms out as a scream escaped her mouth. “CASEY! BRIDGE!”

Okay. So there were a lot of things that went wrong.

***

“Here we are!” A voice called loudly, causing April to jerk her head up and nearly lose an earbud in the process. “Now I know you’ve told me before, but remind me – what class is this project for? I don’t recall having to do anything like this until I’d reached graduate school.”

April smiled as she rose from her seat and shouldered an air tank onto her back. She carefully pulled the earbuds from her ears and tucked them into the bag of dry clothes she’d brought, then paused to looked out across the ocean. The sky was overcast that afternoon, leaving glare so minimal that even as the boat chugged to a stop beneath them, she was almost certain she could spy movement in the water below. “It’s for a dual-credit course. My science instructor knows that Dad is stationed here and that I study under him, so he said that I could use some of my research work as a science credit.”

“My word,” The fourty-something Japanese man at the stern shook his head in amusement as he pulled a lever to lower the anchor. The ship responded with a groan, lurching slightly at the movement, and the air was soon filled with a steady clack-clack-clack as chains were steadily released into the depths. “I swear, April – you work more than most kids your age. It’s a wonder you even have time to consider college courses. And you’re only – what – sixteen?”

“Seventeen as of last month,” April shrugged lightly and fought back an amused eyeroll as she continued to adjust her gear and flippers. Once she was certain they were secure, the girl reached for her camera and looped the strap over her wrist. She’d known Miles for a few months at this point and was pretty sure that they’d had this exact conversation every time they spoke. Her dad joked that his memory retention was about as long as that of the goldfishthat he studied. “Thankfully most of the college stuff is online, so I don’t have to worry about dealing with all of the paperwork from moving between schools. So it’s not too bad.”

“Ah. Well then, I won’t keep you from your schoolwork any longer.” Miles tapped his wrist and jerked his chin towards the cloudy sky before moving towards the stairs that led below deck. Typically the rule was to never dive alone, but… “Remember, one hour tops, and then I have to check the boat back in for the evening – no exceptions.”

“I know, I know – see you in a bit!” Positioning herself on the side of the boat, April fitted the mouthpiece from her tank into place, flashed an okay sign, and then pushed herself backwards into the rolling waves.

***

No matter how many times she dove, April could never not be amazed by the sheer beauty of the sea.She often wondered if she’d feel the same had her dad chosen a different line of work, but she ultimately pushed those thoughts aside and chose to simply be grateful that she’d always had the opportunity to live near open water. It was, after all, one of the only consistent things in her life.

She couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times that she had moved in her short life. Once or twice a year, her dad was reassigned to a new zoo or university and that meant uprooting everything and moving to the next body of water. Everywhere from Florida to Quebec to now Osaka – a large port city in Japan – had served as a temporary place of residence to April, her father, and the rest of the research team.

“Don’t worry, Pumpkin,” Kirby O’Neil had smiled at April over his mug of hot chocolate – a relocation announcement tradition in the O’Neil household. April remembered scowling into her own mug in response. “I spoke to the Board, and they’re willing to keep us in Osaka at least until you’ve graduated from high school. That way you can finish out your diploma in one place!”.

Five months later and the Board – a maniacal creature seemingly dedicated to repositioning its prisoners at random – had remained true to its word. April had quickly settled into the Japanese immersion class at her high school and was actually doing quite well in the school environment – enough so that the headmaster had paired her with another immersion student to help tutor him in math.

Casey Jones was an up-and-coming hockey player, the oldest child of the English Foreign Language teacher, and a big pain in the butt. Even though he was scheduled to graduate later that year, Casey seemed bound and determined to fail all of his classes – meaning that he and April spent more than the intended amount of time studying and hanging out together.

“It’s just you and me against Japan, Red,” Casey often joked as he would flash her a gap-toothed grin. “Us immigrants gotta stick together.”

If not for his cocky attitude and constant flirting, April might have thought that he was cute.

Might.

April gave a few kicks as she allowed thoughts of school to drift away and happily rolled in the cool water. Several silver fish darted out of her way as she sank lazily past, raising her camera in time to capture a couple of photos. Her blue eyes widened in awe as a class of clownfish and several jellyfish followed, and she rapidly snapped several pictures before they could float out of range. The water grew rapidly colder and darker with every few feet, aided by the clouds that were constantly drifting in front of the sun. Minutes slowly ticked away as her distance from the bobbing boat lengthened until it was no more than a misshapen shadow on the surface of the water above.

Thick, twisted chunks of orange and pink coral and a forest of seaweed eventually began to rise up around her, and she paused in the shadow of a particularly large structure to glance at the time on her camera screen – only twenty minutes left before she had to head for the surface. Yikes – that didn’t leave very long to get more decent shots.

She furrowed her brow in thought – maybe she could convince Miles or another research assistant to bring her out again tomorrow -?

Suddenly, a burst of movement out of the corner of her eye grabbed April’s attention and sent her reeling backwards against the coral. Hundreds of tiny fish blew past her in a frantic, unorganized mass, the undertow tearing at the surrounding seaweed and adding to the chaos and confusion. Before she could right herself, a much larger form shot after the fish, closely followed by another of similar size. The masses cut through the water without a glance in her direction, clearly intent on their prey and unaware that they had been seen.

April gasped as she righted herself and stared at the large, rapidly moving shapes that were quickly disappearing into the distance – what the heck had she just seen? For a moment she wanted to brush it off as simply two seals hunting dinner, but something made her hesitate. Something was off.

Heart pounding, she slowly peeled herself off of the coral wall and ducked into the thick seaweed. Once she was sure that she wouldn’t be spotted, April raised her camera and aimed it at the creatures. By now they were far enough away that the camera wouldn’t focus, but this confirmed what she’d thought she’d seen. Those were not the usual side to side movements that most fish travelled by, or even an up and down motion like dolphins or seals would use – these things had arms and legs that they were kicking like human beings.

Still not acknowledging April’s presence, the two creatures suddenly split up and each silently moved to one side of the school of fish. They then began to duck and weave, almost dancing with each other as they continued to direct the fish into a tighter and more condensed mass.

The numbers on April’s camera screen blinked a warning, reminding her that she only had a few more minutes before she needed to head to the surface, but she shoved the thought aside. She had to get closer.

With one hand firmly clutching her camera, April pushed off of the coral and began to propel herself through the clinging seaweed. The creatures had already put several dozen yards between herself and them, but appeared to be slowing as they closed in on their prey.

Moving through the dense seaweed was more difficult than her targets had made it look, however. The girl grimaced as her limbs repeatedly got tangled in thick pieces of the plant, slowing her motion until she tore them loose. She was almost to the edge of the seaweed when the bigger of the two let out a sharp clicking noise, causing April to freeze in place.

Before she could determine what was happening, a net appeared between the two beings and they cast it across the fish. The smaller creature then reached for a long strand of seaweed that had been wrapped around his forearm and tied the bag shut, thoroughly trapping their dinner. He squealed and clicked in pride, sounding like a dolphin that had just performed a trick and was now expecting a treat. The larger creature chirped in response and reached out to pat the smaller one on the head.

April kicked forward, mind reeling as she struggled to comprehend what she was witnessing, when a thick piece of seaweed tangled itself around her thigh and brought her chase to a stop. The sudden change in momentum caught her off guard, and April flailed her arms around in surprise – only for her camera to slip from her grasp. The small device, now free of anything weighing it down, rocketed towards the surface as the girl let out an exasperated string of curses that were only just masked by her mouthpiece.

Eyes straining to not lose the creatures amidst the bubbles that had stirred up around her, April violently jerked her leg to snap the seaweed. When the clinging inhibitor only seemed to tighten in response, she let out a huff of frustration and reached down to quickly untangle her leg. What met her fingertips, however, was not part of the slimy plants that surrounded her.

The girl let out a muffled stream of bubbles as she twisted around and gasped sharply. The dark tentacle around her leg tightened in response, and several more shot out from the shifting forest to pull at her arms and hair. April instinctively reached for the emergency knife on her belt, but the massive squid let out a fierce grumble as its tentacles tightened around her arms and pinned them to her sides. April’s heart pounded loudly in her ears as she struggled fruitlessly and let out a garbled yell of panic.

Had she been diving with a team, the others would have stepped in at this moment to help her get away. But now here she was, alone and trapped with her only hope nearly twenty minutes away from even beginning to question where she was.

Am I going to die down here?

Just as another tentacle snaked forward to tug at her airline, the water around her erupted into bubbles and April felt herself being violently thrown back and forth. The tentacles remained firmly wrapped around her body, but she felt their grip slacken ever so slightly as two blurs rammed into the squid’s head with claws outstretched. Blood filled the water as the squid flailed beneath its attackers, scaly skin tearing underneath their claws.

April screamed again as one of the creatures suddenly turned on her, eyes wide and ghostly white, and then began to violently attack the limbs holding her tight.

Even as she was being tossed back and forth, April could tell that the creature fighting for her freedom was like nothing she had ever seen in her research. Shape-wise, the creature appeared to be a mix between a human and a turtle, roughly several inches shorter than she was. The terrapin was a pale olive color, covered from head to toe with splotches of purple scales. Thick claws protruded from large, rounded limbs and with each swipe it was clear that they were sharp enough to cut through flesh without much effort. A ramshackle string of lavender stones hung from one of the terrapin’s upper arms, somehow not getting cut or knocked off during the fight, and a quick glance told April that the other creature bore similar decorations on its own body.

When the thrashing tentacles finally began to loosen, the turtle nearest to her grabbed April beneath the armpits and quickly jerked her out of their confinement while the other continued to distract the squid. The turtle’s claws dug into her sides painfully as it held her to its plastron and began to swim awayupwards, causing April to cry out and kick her legs in panic. A series of sharp clicks echoed in April’s ears as she fought, and then several things happened all at once.

The water erupted with even more noise and movement – though April hardly believed it possible – and then the arms around her slackened and fell away, almost immediately to be replaced by several pairs of hands that she could recognize as being human. The next few minutes happened as a blur – she vaguely remembered several decompression stops as they ascended, each accompanied by hands gently patting her body and checking for injury – but before she knew it, they were breaking the surface of the water. There her world continued to move in a confusing blur of shapes and colors as more hands hooked under her arms and heaved her on deck, where her diving equipment was quickly stripped away and replaced with warm towels and gentle touches.

April blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging as they adjusted to the sudden brightness. “What – ”

“We’ve got you, Little One,” A female biologist that April recognized from her father’s crew came into view amongst the blur of movement and blankets being piled on her shoulders, her face creased in maternal concern. “Delta Team was out patrolling and pulled up right alongside Miles just as your camera surfaced – we were afraid something terrible had happened to you! And – oh, you’re bleeding!”

“I –”

Miles’ voice suddenly broke through the chaos. “Give us a hand – we’ve got something big!”

Rina’s head jerked around to look at something out of April’s line of sight, and then she wrapped her arms around the girl and turned her away from the ruckus occurring on the other boat. The woman muttered something softly in Japanese, her eyes widening as she pulled April tighter against her body. “Oh my word…”

“What’s going on?” April turned against the arms holding her right as a full net thudded onto the deck she’d been on less than an hour ago. The large mass inside of it was curled inward and bleeding slightly, but one limp arm was clearly visible, bearing a bracelet of string and lavender stones.

Next Chapter

#savannah drabbles #rottmnt #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt au #sea turtles au

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ezraeuropium · 4 years

Text

SAINT BERNARD [𝙴𝙿𝙸𝚂𝙾𝙳𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 — ❝𝙷𝙰𝚆𝙺𝚂❞] (one-shot series)

ACCESS MASTERLIST [HERE]

note before you read; this is basically a compilation series of one-shots that i’ll write. some requests will be from wattpad as well as here. there will be no one-shot that end up into two-shots, etc (those will be posted outside of this series). requests are open [0/10] slot are currently taken up (meaning there open), so feel free to request a character. i do have a list of prompts on my profile if you cannot think of any. i also write in second person / gender neutral reader to include everyone! enjoy!

word count: 2001 warnings: hawks commits cannibalism.

[NAME] MARRIED AN IDIOT.

it became crystal clear as they stood on the street, watching their husband bounce up and down in undeniable excitement. the two were supposed to be patrolling through their assigned district, but hawks had become distracted by one thing — chicken nuggets. one of the men that lived in the area had a different meat every day of the week, and today had been chicken nugget day.

and hawks insisted to stop.

usually [NAME] avoided going on patrol with hawks. it proved to be distracting and a liability. however, this was the rare chance that they were ever assigned the same area as their husband — they could count how many times they patrolled with one hand.

"hawks," [NAME] stressed, their eyebrow twitching in slight annoyance. "we're supposed to be working!"

their husband turned to them with a playful pout, and a mischievous look dancing in his eyes. "oh, it's just a few minutes, sweetheart!"

"it's cannibalism," they retorted, crossing their arms over their chest. "you're eating a fellow bird, and people need help." one thing [NAME] was not going to do was fall into the man's charm. "or maybe the chickens need help since it seems that's all you seem to eat."

hawks grinned, "one, it's not cannibalism unless you make it cannibalism. two, you diet does not only consist of chicken— you're on it." the blond-haired man sent a went their way.

[NAME] tried not to gang. years ago, his ridiculous flirting might have worked on them, but now it was so common it was disgusting (even though sometimes hawks had his moments). now, however, was not a good moment for their husband to reference their sex life. any other time would have been fine, but they were on the clock, and [NAME] was ready to drag the man away from the shitty meat stand. hawks could get chicken nuggets from wacdonald's on the way back home.

"i'm making it cannibalism," they pushed once more. "come on. i'm tired and do not want to deal with your childish bullshit right now."

to anyone else, this might have seemed harsh. hawks had known [NAME] since middle school, however, and knew that they were a serious person, at least when it came to work. if work wasn't in the way, [NAME] easily reminded hawks of one particular yuuei student — kaminari denki. hawks knew that his lover was one of the biggest idiots he knew, maybe more so than himself. [NAME] had — somehow — managed to light a banana on fire during breakfast one morning, and claimed that it was magic (same person did not have a fire quirk). it was easy for hawks not to take most of what his lover said to heart. he was glad that they were at least serious about being a hero.

"go work then," hawks smiled, bumping his hip playfully against theirs. "you don't need to babysit me."

[EYE COLOR] eyes stared at hawks for a solid minute before a hum of acknowledgment left [NAME]. it was true, they didn't have to babysit hawks, but rather, they didn't want to leave him for their own well-being. having an offensive quirk was not something they were lucky to have. instead, [NAME] had a defensive quirk and they worked better when paired off with someone. the quirk was called hack. it allowed [NAME] to worm themselves into anything electronic. they could see every security camera in the city with the blink of their eyes, or rather, messing with the wavelengths that they could see in the air. bigger cities in japan always held a lot of wavelengths, and luckily for [NAME], they managed to successfully prevent having a headache with activating their quirk and seeing the instant flash of different color wavelengths. it did make them sick to the stomach after a while of activation.

"don't get distracted," [NAME] reminded their husband. they leaned forward, giving the man a rare — for work — kiss on the cheek. hawks sent them a blistering white smile, and [NAME] could remember being weak for it when they were both scouted for personal hero educations. times had been hard then, especially when [NAME] started becoming interested in things that shouldn't have been important. romance was one thing they shouldn't have been focused on, and it wasn't. at least, not until they read some american woman's magazine and it sparked curiosity in their mind. it was a day of instant regret and resolution.

turning away from hawks, [NAME] made their way down the street, watching as the world around them moved in peace. peace was such a fragile word, especially when chaos could erupt at any second, or if one's mind wondered to what was happened else where in the world, then things were never at peace. the false ideology made them force a smile on their face, or at least while they were doing work. all might did things with a smile, so that was what [NAME] was going to do.

there was a small cry, and [NAME] turned their head to look for the sound. a frown was on staining their [SKIN COLOR] face, and they made their way towards the noise; the cries grew louder with every step. children were something that [NAME] did not specialize in, even if they dealt with children on a regular basis. children were so small and easy to damage, and the fear of seeing one hurt never sat well with them. so, seeing a small child sitting in the corner of a street, tucked in a ball with a pair of elegant white wings protecting them, made [NAME] worried.

walking up to the child, the pro-hero knelt down beside the kid. [NAME] put a soft, comforting smile on their face before they spoke up, careful not to scare the child. "hey, sweetie. i'm the pro-hero anon," they introduced. the child startled slightly, peaking her head out from the wings, staring at [NAME] with watery eyes. "do you know where your guardian is?" the hero pushed gently. [NAME] was careful not to say parents. there were several children who's parents have passed or abandoned them, and it was easier to use guardian as it didn't hold tight bonds, but enough so the child was in the care of another.

"nah. . . no," the smaller girl mumbled. "mama was with me, but. . . but now she's not!"

[NAME] gave a nodding of understanding. it was common for children to be separated from their guardians — sad to say. bigger cities meant bigger population, which caused a bit of discord on the streets that never seemed to stop moving. "well, how about we go find her? i'm sure she's looking for you too! you're her little angel after all, yeah?"

"mama calls me that! how'd you know!" the girl said, brightening up. [NAME] nearly laughed, amused. children were easily distracted, but the pro-hero was just glad to have the girl to stop crying. if there had been any more tears, well, [NAME] wouldn't have known what to do. as a child, [NAME] had been a bit of an overly sensitive child, but somehow, learning to care for others and their own tears was lost.

"it was a lucky guess!" really, it would have been a surprise if no one say the girl as a tiny angel. she had small wings that would grow as she did. her hair was in bouncy brown curls, and her eyes were glistening with a wet universe. the girl would breathtaking when she was older, and [NAME] wondered what greatness was in store for the small girl.

[NAME] opened up their arms for the girl to come to them. it would be easier to walk around holding the child, especially since the child would spot her mother easily if she was in [NAME]'s arms. the girl hesitated for a moment, and the pro-hero was about to put their arms down. they weren't going to make the child uncomfortable. [NAME] might have been a hero, but to the child, they were nothing but a stranger. however, the child had founder herself in the pro-hero's arms. carefully, [NAME] stood up, adjusting the tiny angel to their hip.

"can you see?"

"mhm! you're tall like mama!" so, the child's mom was tall, that helped a little bit. the woman would be around [NAME]'s height, if the child indicated a hint towards her mother's height, even if it was unintentional.

[NAME] looked through the crowd of people, before their gaze fell on the girl. "what does mama look like?"

the girl's nose scrunched up. "she's really, really pretty! she's got blond hair like a pom pom! and, and she had big black wings! mama said i got uncle's wings! they're big and white too!"

that. . . that made things a lot more easier than [NAME] thought. the large black wings helped clue her in. there weren't many people who had bird like quirks. [NAME] had only know hawks and tokoyami to have one, but that was personally. besides that, it was always people in passing, and there weren't a lot.

"wow, you're mama sounds amazing! just like you!" [NAME] cooed, their [EYE COLOR] orbs scanning the crowd. their teeth nibbled on their lower lip, before a small sequel escaped the child. "anon! anon! there's mama! she's with a man with wings, but their red! i want red wings!"

[NAME] turned around and snorted. there was a small panicked look on hawks face, but that was because the girl's mom look like since was in hysterics, which was not funny. they weaved their way through the people, [NAME] making sure to have a good grip on the girl.

"um, ma'am! is this your daughter?" the pro-hero exclaimed as they closed in on hawks and the woman. [NAME] didn't bother to take note of the to-go box in hawks hand, which was no doubt filled with chicken nuggets.

the woman let out a cry of relief. "yes! oh, adami, my little angel!"

the girl wiggled in [NAME]'s arms, and they didn't waste a moment by handing the child to her mother. the woman looked toward's name with a glossy eyed smile and thanked them. [NAME] simply waved it off, saying it was only natural that they'd help.

hawks watched the interaction for a moment before silently moving on with his lover. "i didn't know you were so good with kids."

[NAME] let out a laugh, rolling their eyes. they pulled their phone out checking the time. they had enough time to go clock out, even if hawks wasted part of this shift on chicken nuggets. "i'm not any good with them."

"so, you don't want any?"

there was a pregnant pause, and [NAME] looked at their husband. "do you?"

hawks gave a shrug, a small smile on his face. "i wouldn't mind one."

[NAME] frowned. there was one thing they couldn't do and that was produced a child. they were infertile and deleted all options of even having a child with their dna in it. "you know i can't, even if i wouldn't mind."

"[NAME]. . . we can always adopt, and it doesn't have to be now. it can be in a week, a year, or even a decade, or never. i'll stand by your choice."

their throat felt dry, and they reached to hold hawks hand. "keigo — I want to have a family, but — soon, i promise." hawks — no, keigo — leaned over and kissed his lover on the forehead, and [NAME] knew they had all the time in the world, and the ring on their finger was enough to prove that. if only keigo would stop eating his own species that is.

#bnha x reader #gender netural reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami #pro hero #mha x reader #bnha #mha #fluff #children #pro hero reader #marriage #chicken nuggests #this has cannibalism #hawks eats birds #bnha fic #hawks fic

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ohgoddard · 3 years

Text

Truth, Justice, and the Symbol of Peace.3.

Musutafu, Japan

The TV had been on non-stop since Izuku left for that walk, turned to the news as always. But Inko noticed something different. The table that sat before the TV no longer found itself covered in used tissues and All-Might figures. No, this time it was covered in numerous notebooks and textbooks he had either bought from stores or checked out from the local library. Books on electrical engineering, basic mechanical construction, and a guide on how to box like a champ.

He started to come home late from school every day now. The first few times he had come home sweaty and tired, she thought he finally picked himself up and joined an after-school sports team. The books he bought and brought home with him could be written off as a new interest to keep himself busy, and maybe a renewed interest in his studies. He has always been an investigative child, one who could notice something about a person and dress them down to their barest personality characteristics.

But then he started to come home dirty and bruised.

Now, Inko was no idiot. She was not so dumb as not to notice this change of appearance. It didn’t happen much, maybe once in a few weeks. He would leave for school, come home at 7 or 8, and be hiding all sorts of bruises under his hat or jacket. Is he getting bullied at school again?

Just when he started to feel better, she saw him grimace when he walked. And every time she would ask about it, he would give her the same sheepish smile he always gave and say something like, “Don’t worry about it mom. Nothing bad is happening at school, its all good.”

But she knew something was up. You do not raise a kid for a decade and a half without picking up on their ticks and tells. No, he was up to something. But as much as Inko suspected something… she didn’t push it.

Izuku has been the happiest he’s been since he first saw that video of All-Might, carrying the survivors from the flaming rubble of a fallen building. His gigantic smile reflected onto her son’s, his words making him physically bouncing with excitement and amazement. She had missed that yearning of his. So when he walked in late at night, no matter how exhausted and bruised he tried to hide, she let it slide. Every worry that she was being the bad mother was beaten back, never satiated but lessened, when she saw that same light in his eyes. His spirit was back.

=====================================================================

“I don’t have powers.”

Those words have not left his head since he heard them. They stayed in his head at school, on his walk home, when he slept. He had no powers. The thought of someone taking down two thugs with quirks, no matter how low level they were, when you didn’t have one was astounding. More so than that, it was so cool. The flips, acrobatics while using confusing gadgets that can stop a large man in its tracks and enabling him to climb buildings? Unheard of! People don’t make gadgets to be a hero on their own, they use them as additives to their quirks. He just had none.

And Izuku wanted to be like him. It was all that he thought of. He kept the news on in his home and was always recording, just in case he was found on camera. But he has kept a low profile. Criminals and villains were sometimes found hanging upside down and unconscious, but no one in sight to take credit. No calling card, nothing. The cries of vigilantism came from the people and the Hero Organization, but they literally could not do anything. No one could find this guy.

No one but Izuku has even seen him.

But seeing him once was all it took. And it awakened him to something. He could be a hero without a quirk. He’ll just have to work harder for it. So he started running after school. It was hell at first, the miles seemed to go on forever. It didn't help that he started lifting at that time too. Sneaking into the school weight-room after it closed and the sports teams had left after practice, he struggled to lift even the smallest of weights. Weeks he did this, with only the smallest gains being noticed physically. For a small kid to be doing this, he was risking a lot of bodily damage if he didn’t do it right. Which he often did, dropping weights on himself when he became too confident in his strength. Sometimes he pushed himself too much when running and pulled muscles. Sometimes he tried to do acrobatics and fell flat on his chest, landing on the rocks near the stream under the bridge where he practiced in secret. So every night he came home, tired and bruised sometimes. He started to push himself more and more, and so more and more bruises came.

The concerning questions his mom made to try to find out about his activities he lied about. He felt bad, but she would not let him do this if she knew. He needed to do this. So he said he was alright, nothing bad going on. Just a middle-schooler coming home late because he’s finally getting involved with the school clubs and teams. The bruises? Just an accident from practice, no worries there!

Lying made him uncomfortable, but he needed to keep doing this. He would be a hero, the #1.

And he’d do it his way.

Metropolis, Illinois

“So everyone has powers over there, huh?”

All-Might was sitting across from Clark Kent in a very busy diner, and felt very uncomfortable. Despite Clark Kent being a huge man, All-Might far outweighed him. So the clothes he had lent him were a tight fit, at best. The diner was your typical greasy spoon, the chromed bar tops and smoking waitresses (which is not an adjective on their looks). Clark Kent was sipping on a small cup of coffee, turned an almost beige color by the amount of cream and sugar he put into it. His suit was a baggy business variety, two sizes too big for him. It made him look far more small than he was, the glasses and hair style in much the same way. Had All-Might not seen Superman himself before, he would have never guessed this was the same person.

Which made him wonder how anyone did not recognize him. He was a giant man, one who stood out even among the crowds in his home. The clothes he had been lent gave a tight fit, making him appear a gorilla in a business suit. His blond hair had been combed over and over again by Wonder Woman, who’s name he learned to be Diana. How it happened was a blur, her combing his hair. The same day Superman held a meeting concerning him, he asked if anyone could help him with his appearance, to make him easier to hide in normal society. Diana had declared such a thing a mockery of her time. The memory loss occurred when Superman had said, “What? Don’t think you can do it?”

For ten straight minutes, All-Might found himself being meticulously combed by her. He was not entirely against the idea, him being human and all. However, he could do without the constant mutterings that she uttered about the situation and Superman and where he could put a stick of a thing called Kryptonite. Superman had assured him that no one would recognize him from the behemoth that saved the day a few days ago. And to his credit, no one did.

“Well, not everyone.” All-Might adjusted the necktie he had on, which was actually two tied together. The comment illicit an eyebrow raise from Clark, who put down his coffee cup.

“Really? How is it chosen who gets powers and not?”

“Its an evolutionary trait. And not everyone’s power is the same, they more often than not reflect their personality and upbringing. We call it a ‘quirk’. Like a little tick in people’s personalities.”

Clark rubbed his chin, intrigued. “That is very interesting. And what is your.. Quirk?”

All-Might smiled internally, already having fun with the conversation he was going to have.

“Oh, I don’t have one.” He then took a small sip from the comically small coffee cup.

“Really.” The voice of suspicion that Clark had let out was palpable. A small snicker escaped All-Might. “No, really! I have no quirk!”

“I find that very hard to believe, All-M- “ He stopped talking. “Actually, what is your name? If you do not mind me asking that, it would just make conversation a lot easier.”

He pondered on it. There is no one in this world, save for All For One, that knows his name. Nor would giving it out put anyone but this Superman at risk, someone he believes can hold his own.

“Toshinori Yagi. Toshinori is ok.”

Clark Kent smiled. “Alright then, Toshinori. I still find it hard to believe you have no quirk.”

A low laugh left All-Might as he bit into a pastry Clark had ordered him.

“I tell the truth! I have no quirk. What power you have seen was not mine.”

“Then whose power was it?”

Clark could tell he struck a nerve, the heart rate in All-Might changing.

Damnit Clark, he thought, spend your whole life on Earth and you still can’t talk to a person.

“I, uh, would prefer to keep that to myself if you would not mind.”

Clark nodded. Unlike the others, he did not suspect Toshinori of foul play. He could sense a true hero in him. He had no bad values, always striving for the same things Clark did. Maybe that's why he just...trusted him. That, and Clark was generally just a trusting person.

“Well,” Clark said in the tone someone speaks when they want to end a conversation that has taken a turn south, “it's about time we get your first day at the Planet.”

All-Might stood up, collecting his large overcoat that he had been lent. “I cannot thank you enough for this, Mr.Kent. I need some of your currency, I feel bad for mooching off of you and the rest of the League.” A smile grew on Clark’s face, “Please, call me Clark. Now there’s a few things you need to know about your new job. One, you’re door security for the Planet. A few weeks ago there was an armed robbery that really shook the building. You should take care of it easily. Two, there's a few people you need to look out for inside. One is Jimmy, a redhead. A clumsy kid, so you gotta make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.”

All-Might had pulled a notepad from his inside jacket pocket that Clark had left there when he last wore it and was writing furiously. And messily. Good thing I didn’t get him the reporter job. “Jimmy...alright, anyone else?”

“There is a woman by the name of Lois Lane. I won’t need to describe her, believe me you’ll know when its her. She is a stubborn headed person, so she kinda gets into trouble a lot. Look out for her, alright?”

After another minute of furious writing, he tucked the notebook into the jacket. “Alright. Though, Mr,K- Clark. I am very bad at talking with women. A terrible track record.”

Perfect. “Don’t you worry. You’ll get the hang of it.”

=====================================================================

The uniform the Daily Planet gave Toshinori Yagi was equally ill-fitting as the rest of the clothing he had worn in this new world. He had a sad feeling that the first paychecks he collected would go to custom tailoring. He stands at the lobby of the building, right in front of the two big doors that hundreds of employees walk in and out of every day. Really, nothing seems to happen for a long time.

The biggest event on his first day of work was meeting the woman known as Lois Lane.

When she walked in, had to almost slap himself. She was gorgeous. And she was also with Clark Kent. Toshinori got an idea why he wanted him to look after her. As she walked in, engaged in a heated conversation with Clark about a story he somehow stole from her, she looked his direction and halted in her steps.

“Lois? Why the sudden stop?” Clark had walked beyond her spot, turning to face her.

“And here I thought you were the biggest brick wall in the Planet. Clark, when did we get a door guard?”

“I don’t know, I never seem to catch up on the memos.”

Lois rolled her eyes and walked right up to Toshinori. “Uh..h.. Hello ma’am. How may I help you?”

She smirked. “And so polite too! You pick him out, Smallville?”

“Hey now! I don’t have a monopoly on politeness in the city you know.”

As they left for the elevator, Clark gave him a sneaky thumbs up before going up.

This is going to be a very stressful job.

Then the road outside exploded.

#superhero #superman #superhero story #original #original writing #my hero fanfic #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia #allmight #All-might #boku no academia #boku no hero fanfic #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #izuku midoyria #deku midoriya #bnha deku

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junionigiri · 5 years

Text

Just Another Secretary Story - Chapter 1 - For the first time in nine years

Summary: Todoroki Shouto is the young hotshot executive of Endeavor, Inc, talented in many ways but clueless in plenty of aspects outside of work. Uraraka Ochako is his reliable secretary for the past nine years--driven, hardworking, never complaining, a perfect subordinate who does all of his bidding without question. They have a perfect, harmonious relationship together-- that is, until the night Secretary Uraraka tells him, "I'd like to quit my job."

Rating: T

[for safri -- happy birthday! I know it’s been a while since I wrote something so I might be rusty, but I sure hope you still enjoy this.]

Secretary Uraraka Ochako, 29 years old, single, finds herself at the home of award-winning actress Yaoyorozu Momo. She has a bouquet of yellow roses in her arms and a smile that tries its best to deny her pollen allergies.

It’s not the best place in the world, but this isn’t the worst thing she’s had to do all week.

Yaomomo, as her fans and stans have affectionately named her, gives her that award-winning smile and a curious tilt of the head. “Uraraka-san! What a pleasant surprise! What brings you here all across town? And all by yourself?”

Ochako gives her the sunniest smile she can muster as the actress relieves her of the armful of allergens, thanking all the gods that she hasn’t sneezed her soul out all over the celebrity. “Director Todoroki is otherwise occupied at the moment. However, he did not want to miss the opportunity to be the first to greet you on your recent best actress nomination, so he sent me here for a visit.”

“Is that so?” Momo regards the bouquet with grace, slender fingers picking up the greeting card within it. “And this is from Shouto too, I suppose.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ochako says, as Momo reads the message within the card. You are a beautiful person inside out. Congratulations. S.T. A very personal message, one that Ochako had deliberated upon and hand-wrote carefully on the ride to the agency.

“That’s sweet of you,” Momo says with a serene smile. Putting down the bouquet next to her, she looks at Ochako with a knowing raise of one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “You have something else to say.”

Ochako exhales slowly and gives an executive sort of nod. “Yes, ma’am. Unfortunately.”

She pauses to give the actress a moment to brace herself, yet Momo seems more than prepared for this moment as she only motions for her to continue. Well, if she is that prepared, at least they won’t be wasting any more time. Without the smile wavering from her face, Ochako announces, “While it pains him to do so, Director Todoroki would like to inform you that he cannot see you anymore. He wishes you all the best in your future aspirations.”

She says all of this in a polite, even tone, akin to how one would give a performance report at a business meeting. Funnily enough, Momo listens to her as if she were in the same meeting too--merely an executive at the other end of the table, keeping her composure despite news of her investments dropping in value.

“Is that so,” Momo says after a beat of silence. Inhaling quietly, no doubt counting one to ten in her head, she shakes her head and gives another smile, albeit a pained one. Yet, too graceful than the situation deserved. “Thank you for going all this way to tell me this, Uraraka-san.”

This isn’t the first time Ochako had to do this. After all, it has been exactly thirty days since Yaomomo and Todoroki Shouto, the young Executive Director of Endeavor Inc., started officially dating. Thirty days of going out in formal events and stuffy parties, smiling politely for the cameras and answering insipid questions about their relationship for the magazines, dealing with paparazzi and the unsavory showbiz rumor mill.

It has also been thirty days of Director Todoroki subtly pushing Momo’s hands off of his arm as soon as the cameras are away, and thirty days of Ochako buying the actress jewelry on behalf of her boss and his credit card to keep her happy.

Ochako came prepared for the worst. She’d had to deal with meltdowns and insults and threats to her employer’s good name. All things considered, Yaoyorozu Momo simply removing the 18-karat white gold diamond encrusted necklace that Director Todoroki gave her during the last awards ceremony is one of the most elegant ways to handle rejection that Ochako has ever seen.

“All in all, I expected this,” the actress tells her in a careful tone. “It must have been a bad sign that it was our fathers who pushed us into this relationship. I wonder if I could have done more to keep him interested, though.”

Dammit, she’s too good for this. Ochako finds herself wondering if she could have done more to convince Director Todoroki to think about this further. Then again, it isn’t worth the argument. Her boss has always insisted that relationships are a distraction from his work, and simply an inefficient way to spend his time.

Ochako smiles at her, sincerely this time. “Yaoyorozu-san, it isn’t you. Simply put, he’s a brat. You gave him more patience than he deserved.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that about your boss,” Momo says, with a laugh. “Still, I wondered if I gave it enough time, I could have melted that icy barrier he seems to always have around him, Uraraka-san.”

“Maybe,” Ochako says, probably much more honest than what is appropriate, “but take it from someone who’s had to work for him for as long as I have. You really don’t want to see past his ‘cool exterior’.”

Director Todoroki is famous for more than just his intelligence, finesse, and keen business sense. His icy exterior, paired with that beautiful face, gets a lot of people hoping to be the one to melt it. It seems that not even Yaomomo is immune to that sort of fantasy. Yet Ochako knows that behind that pretty face is a twenty-nine year old child who’d probably die immediately once left alone. Whether it’s through a traffic accident from seeing a cat in the streets, malnutrition from eating nothing but cold soba, or dying simply to spite his father.

The Director is blissfully unaware of his inability to function like a sensible adult, however (case in point, this situation right here). Ochako’s full time job doesn’t even give her the luxury to pretend like he is.

Momo gives an affirmative sound. Her hand cups the contour of her perfectly symmetrical face in interest. “That’s right. You’ve been his secretary for… five years?”

“Nine years,” Ochako answers, suppressing a sigh. “Yaoyorozu-san, you are easily my favorite among all the people he’s had to date, so I hope you trust me when I say that you dodged a bullet. I worked for him for a long time, and I’ve never ever seen him take anyone seriously. You also know how he gets about people touching him. Plus all he thinks about at any given point in time are one of the three things: work, work, and work, so I don’t think a relationship with him would be good for anyone.”

Well, he also thinks a lot about his snobby cat, Victoria. Oh, and tormenting Ochako with care of said cat.

Momo hums, dark eyes perusing her carefully. “He does seem to only care about work and not much else. But you touch him quite frequently, don’t you, Uraraka-san?”

Ochako blinks once, and shakes her head. “Me? Not at all.”

The actress smiles at her patiently. “But you do. And when we’re together for our dates, he speaks to you more than he does to me.”

Chasing after the absent-minded Director with a lint roller for his suit, frequently readjusting his tie for him, and doing every single one of his biddings don’t count. Ochako laughs awkwardly. “Well, he doesn’t see me as a person, much less a woman. So you don’t have to worry about that.”

It definitely isn’t the first time that Ochako has been accused of having an affair with her boss. She hopes she doesn’t have to defend herself in front of Yaomomo. She’s just sick of all the jealousy for ‘monopolizing’ Director Todoroki’s attention. Ah, if only they knew.

Thankfully, the actress does not pursue the topic any further. “Thank you for your courtesy, Uraraka-san. I wish the same for Shouto… I mean, the Director,” she says, and adds after a thoughtful pause, “... and you. The two of you.”

The knowing smile remains on her mouth. Ochako only returns this with her most professional smile and bids her farewell.

Well, Yaomomo might have meant something entirely different with her words, but with what Ochako is about to do that evening, she could use all the well-wishes she can get.

“At the end of the day, nine years is just nine years,” she mumbles to herself, as she takes a taxi back to the Endeavor Towers at the center of the city.

Director Todoroki Shouto, 29 years old, single, is one of the youngest major executives of Endeavor Inc, one of the biggest conglomerates in Japan. It’s not as impressive as it sounds since he’s also the fourth child of Todoroki Enji, the man who owns it, but he’s earning his rep as much as he can.

He begins a typical productive day waking up in the penthouse of Endeavor Towers. It’s a lot smaller than his own space in the family estate, but it’s only a few floors above where he works all day so it’s pretty convenient. Also, he has total control of the security there and only allows a handful of people in--his bodyguard/chauffeur Shoji, his personal chef Sato, Midoriya (but only if there’s work to be done), and of course, Secretary Uraraka, who is required to be there the moment he wakes up. Having his privacy is great, and not having that annoying old man there makes it a hundred times better.

If he didn’t entrust Victoria in Secretary Uraraka’s care for any reason, the British Shorthair would be gently tapping his face with her royal paw at around six in the morning. He gets up, brush his teeth, and then take a shower infused with vitamins and minerals designed to give him energy. He spends twenty minutes eating breakfast cooked by Sato and dresses up for work afterward.

Having been there since five in the morning, Secretary Uraraka meets him in his dressing room, ready with her choice of his clothing for the day. In that particular morning, she chose midnight blue and grey. “I deemed this appropriate for the conservative group we are meeting today at nine,” she says, tying a Windsor knot around his neck with ease. “We are expecting a long day. Will you take any caffeine today?”

“Ristretto, exactly 2.5 fluid ounces, 87 degrees centigrade, no sugar.”

Uraraka nods, signalling Sato behind them, mouthing demitasse as she is supposed to. “And about Yaoyorozu Momo—“

“Yes, I’m aware of the upcoming Daytime Drama Awards,” he says with a huff. “Best actress and Best Onstage Kiss, right? As well as Best Ensemble Cast for their performance in The Goddess of Creation--”

Uraraka gives him her standard customer service smile. Her eyes flash meaningfully as she says,“That, and her birthday is coming up. Will you give her anything?”

Shouto keeps himself from muttering under his breath. Shit, he almost forgot. “Just the yellow roses. Don’t mention her birthday.”

Just the yellow roses, meaning it’s time to let her go.

Secretary Uraraka blinks, eyes flashing again, but her smile does not waver as she gives a half-bow. “Understood.”

It’s been a month or so since he appeared in public with Yaoyorozu. Endeavor has been pushy about him seeing her, given her looks, talent, and old money background. He would have refused to do it, except that Yaoyorozu was a decent person from University and he didn’t want to make things difficult with her and her own pushy parents.

But she won’t make his work any easier, and she deserved better. He supposes this is an acceptable time to end things amicably. Well, as amicably as a break-up via proxy can get.

They make their way to work down the elevator to the main building, with Uraraka listing their daily agenda from her neat plastic file folder. An array of salarymen and women whose names he can’t quite recall bow to him all the way to his office. When he makes it to his desk with a view of the city, the priority documents are already arranged neatly in front of his seat, 5 cm away from the edge as is his preference.

“All right. Let’s get to work,” Shouto says, twisting his wrists in anticipation.

“Yes, Director.” Uraraka does that polished half-bow again and takes her place beyond the glass doors of his office.

When she leaves, he easily goes into the rhythm of office work. It gets dull from time to time, and when his eyes wander, he sees her with her eyes focused on her desktop computer, no doubt working on the next project proposal.

Efficient, accomplished, no complaints. The sight of someone working hard to keep up with him fills him with determination.

The rest of the day is a whirlwind of activities—an executive meeting with the board, another meeting with the legal office, a teleconference with their associates from India. He only remembers to eat lunch when Uraraka gets back from her assignment at Yaoyorozu’s and reminds him to eat the vegetables that Chef Sato prepared along with his soba. And then it’s more paperwork and meetings, and then evening comes and they both have to rush to a social event.

Shouto goes back to his penthouse, spends about an hour playing with Victoria, grooms himself and changes into a tuxedo. When he’s done, Uraraka meets him at the lobby. She’s garbed in something made of pink chiffon the same shade as her round cheeks, with just enough jewelry to make her look acceptable in this group of socialites without being too overboard.

“The Milan group will be arriving at the M hotel fundraiser in approximately twenty-eight minutes,” Uraraka tells him, her pink-padded fingers flying up to his bow tie in efficient movements.

“Let Midoriya entertain them first. We shouldn’t take too long, though,” Shouto says, as Uraraka straightens out his collar and wipes his shoulders free of any micro-creases that her laser eyes may have detected.

The quiet Shoji takes them to the event after that. The drive takes them twenty-nine minutes instead of twenty due to traffic, probably longer if Uraraka hadn’t navigated them through the side streets. It’s good that she’s there to get them out of the imminent gridlock. He supposed the fact that she commutes daily to work is useful in situations like this.

Eventually they make it to the ostentatious lobby of the hotel, where the equally ostentatious fundraiser is being held. Shouto knows that a famous celebrity photographer called Spiral is auctioning off his photos, and that all proceeds are going to go into educating orphans or something. He supposes he should care more about orphans--orphans are always a good cause to support, even though his last brush with orphans earned him the unsavory title of five pee-pee man--but right now all he is concerned about is that Milan group lurking in the shadows, waiting for him to find them.

And he didn’t mean to steal everyone’s attention away from the auction, but it isn’t his fault that he’s so eye-catching. With his heterochromatic eyes and hair and the scar and all. If it were up to him he’d get rid of the red, scarred half of his body, but then again his most important business partners tend to look for any signs of Todoroki Enji in him, so he can’t do that just yet.

Holding on to his right arm, Uraraka subtly pulls him toward a certain direction away from a flock of women looking his way. “I can see Chief Midoriya over there.”

They begin to approach the mess of green hair at the other end of the ballroom. He seems to be doing a decent job entertaining them with tales about his idol, Governor Yagi (which is the usual Midoriya fare). Or at least, the polite Italians seem to be doing a good job of listening to his impassioned speech.

In any case, when Uraraka clears her throat behind him, Midoriya turns his freckled face and gives them a large, sunny smile. “Oh! And here’s the Director, just in time!”

“Buona sera,” Shouto greets the guests with a smile of his own. “I hope you weren’t waiting for too long,” he says in fluent Italian.

“Not at all,” the leader tells him, and proceeds in various small talk about how they love the city, the food, the women, etcetera. It’s all small talk that he’s able to respond to flawlessly, yet Shouto notices the way they eye Secretary Uraraka at this last part, which gives him pause. One of them says something in Italian about her alluring looks, and asking her candidly if he can get her a drink.

Unfazed, Uraraka merely smiles and tucks a bit of her auburn hair behind her left ear. Somehow the man steps back, takes a good look at Shouto’s stare, and says nothing more.

“If you don’t mind,” Shouto tells them, after adjusting the sudden harshness of his tone, “let’s talk about partnership.”

It can’t exactly be called a business meeting since all of it is informal, yet it’s equally important all the same. As bothersome as socializing is, it’s important to impress investors with more than just numbers and data. All in all It is an easy and straightforward conversation, and Shouto managed to get their confidence in their business partnership without much trouble. After a toast and a round of handshakes, Shouto allows them to have their fill of the rest of the party while he retreats to his own company.

“That went smoothly,” Midoriya tells him with a congratulatory pat on his back. “Congrats on getting them to say yes. They’re notoriously hard to deal with, but also notoriously loyal.”

“Of course,” he replies with a sip of his whisky. Shouto wasn’t expecting any other answer than yes. He knows he’s that good.

“Gotta say, I was a little worried for you back there,” the green-haired Chief says. “You seemed close to losing your temper.”

Shouto gives him a bored stare. “You must be mistaken.”

Midoriya laughs and glances at Secretary Uraraka’s direction. “Maybe I was.”

Oh, speaking of which. “Uraraka, I didn’t know you knew Italian.”

Uraraka gives him a bright smile. “Apart from the types of pasta, I don’t know a word of Italian.”

“But you understood that that person was offering you a drink.” He wouldn’t have minded the flirting in an ordinary setting, but it’s a waste of time in this one. It’s a relief that he didn’t have to deal with it during the conversation.

She shrugs. “It’s obvious he was flirting. Even if I don’t really get what’s going on, all I have to do is this.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear again, much the same way she did before. Shouto wonders what her white sapphire earrings have to do with anything, until Midoriya laughs at her in awe. “Hey, now when did you get married, Uraraka-san?”

There’s a silver band on her ring finger, with obvious fake diamonds on them that she shows off with pride. “Since I won this at company day last year. It’s saved me a lot of trouble in the past.”

“Wow, you’re really ready for everything, aren’t you?” Midoriya says with a dreamy sigh. “No offense to Secretary Hagakure, since she’s pretty great too, but I’m so jealous of the Director for having a secretary like you! You’re like, a whole other level of efficient.”

Of all the things to be jealous of, Midoriya picks his secretary. What then about his skills and unparalleled genius in business? Shouto doesn’t hide his offense at that.

“Oh, don’t worry director, you’re pretty good at that too. No question,” the green-haired executive says with a bright smile. “You’ll be CEO in no time. I’m sure of it.”

It’s mere flattery if it came from anybody else but Midoriya, who has been by his side since business school. He accepts the compliment.

So the night wears on. Shouto poses for a few more pictures, talks to as few people as possible (which is still a lot--politicians, celebrities, models who want his attention and who are good potential business partners), and excuses himself when the threshold for politeness has been reached. Shoji comes to pick him and Uraraka up, and he collapses at the back of the limo feeling pretty pleased with himself.

“That went well,” he tells her as he pulls off the bowtie and allows himself to breathe properly. His voice is a little sore from talking too much, but it’s all worth it in the end.

“Agreed, Director,” Uraraka says with a nod. “You were exceptional in dealing with everyone tonight. I’m sure this will be good for the company.”

“Objectively speaking, yes, I was good.” He really is getting better at talking to people and sealing deals, so he’s proud of himself. “You did well too, Uraraka.”

She gives a cheery smile. “No, I could have done better. As you said, I need more accent training for my English.”

It’s a minor detail, pronouncing ‘business’ as bijiness, but Shouto is a stickler for details and perfection and Uraraka needs to address that problem. Still, if he had to rate her performance tonight it’d be a good solid 98.65%, which is pretty impressive for a high stakes event such as this.

Feeling very generous, he tells her, “Since you did a great job tonight, I can give you one thing you want. Anything at all.”

Uraraka looks up at him in mild surprise. “Anything?”

Shouto nods, even gives her that little smile that women like, for some reason. “Just say the word.”

He wonders how she can make her eyes sparkle like that, when they’re brown like chocolate and there’s only the city lights rushing past them to give her any light. Still, she continues to glow, her pink cheeks lighting up impossibly, pink-padded fingers tapping her chin in excitement.

It’s only out of pure impulse that Shouto said anything like that at all, but there’s a second between one heartbeat and the next when he’s sure he really will give her anything she wants. A new car, a new apartment, a new wardrobe, a better ring for her finger that isn’t as cheap as the one she’s wearing now. Heck, if she asked for it, he’d be willing to even give her a day off. And he’d pay for whatever it is that his secretary wants to do in her spare time. All she has to do is say the word, and--

“I’ve decided,” she says, after a moment. “Director Todoroki,”

Shouto nods, readying his mouth to say done,

“I’d like to quit my job.”

His heart pauses again, for an entirely different reason.

Quit her job? This job? Maybe she has some other job, even though it’s a breach of her contract to work part-time, but that’s the only thing that makes sense.

“I’d like to quit being your secretary,” Uraraka repeats with a patient smile.

The city lights blur behind her head, giving him a quick bout of nausea. An unnamed emotion rises to the back of his throat like bile, irrational and unpleasant, one that he refuses to let win.

“Okay. Done.”

She smiles at him and bows her head. Her hands come up to her chest as she gives another half-bow. “Thank you very much, Director.”

Shouto tries not to show an ounce of hesitation when he asks, “May I ask why you’re quitting?”

“Personal reasons,” she answers easily, and adds nothing more.

It’s nice, brief, and acceptable, just how Shouto likes his answers, but not this situation. For the first time in a long time, he’d like to hear her excuses, apologies, inane reasoning. Anything to make her decision make sense. Anything to make sense of the whirl of unpleasant feelings at the pit of his stomach.

But Uraraka remains silent, eyes staring straight ahead, with no indication of regret or remorse over her words. There’s a smile on her face too, one that’s too relieved for what she has just said.

For the first time in nine years, Shouto wonders if the smile he knows is merely a mask after all.

#bnha fic #todoroki shouto/uraraka ochako #todochako #todoocha #shouchako #my writings #yes it's based on what's wrong with secretary kim #this is what you get when you spend one entire weekend bingewatching

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randomguywithwords · 4 years

Text

The Curse Of One For All (Part 1 of ?)

The Global Security Council meeting convened. Obviously, it was not the official one. They saved the minor issues to distract the press, with their cameras and reporters jotting down every word or action by the leaders.

This meeting was done in secret, at a location undisclosed, with no cameras except surveillance both within the room and outside. Dubbed “The Room Where It Happens” as a little cultural joke, the real matters were settled here.

A figure stood up, a grey-haired lady dressed in a black dress with an opal necklace adorning her neck. Her eyes were like iron as she surveyed the room full of the people who decided life and death like they ordered breakfast. Some were presidents, some were leaders of conglomerates – but others, like her, were in charge of their national hero associations.

Codenamed Jackal, she spoke, “I believe the matter I brought to the table tonight was sent to you prior to this meeting, but I’ll repeat myself because I’m aware we can’t be bothered to do a little pre-reading.”

A low chuckle spread through the room. Jackal changed the slide to show a picture of a young boy, with green hair and freckles, no older than eighteen, it seemed.

“This is Nine. His real name is Izuku Midoriya. My Commission has kept his life under wraps, and only a room of people knew him before this meeting.”

“You came here to do a Show-and-Tell, Jackal?” Phoenix snarked, his crisp American voice sending another round of laughter through the room.

Jackal responded coolly, “I came here with a request and a proposition. It is, after all, what we do here, no?”

“Let her finish, Phoenix…” Dragon droned, sounding bored or lethargic – likely both.

“Firstly, my request,” Jackal said, “I would like some resources for improving this subject.”

“Like what?” Demon said from the other side of the room. “Awakening his quirk? Toss him in the jungle for three nights. The panthers will do the job.”

“We did. For a week. He was under a life-and-death threat throughout, and he only awakened more and more.”

“How many? Wasn’t the record by Rubik…” Blizzard snapped her fingers at Phoenix. “What did your guy do?”

“Three awakenings, each with empowered and expanded usage of his Chaos Theory.”

“I’m not referring to a static awakening, not one power spike after a near-death experience. It’s the fact that this quirk gets more and more powerful on a seemingly exponential rate.

“Why?” Phoenix said.

Jackal muttered something under her breath the council didn’t quite catch, only “Read...email...redundant…”

She changed the slide to a list of faces of men and women, with Nine’s face at the bottom. “Put simply, this quirk, codenamed Alpha, stockpiles power and can be passed on, giving future wielders all the quirks of previous wielders.”

Demon whistled. “Jackal, you sly dog. How long have you been keeping this from us?”

“Long enough to get a good idea of how this quirk works. I’m assuming you’re interested to learn more.”

“Eh,” Phoenix shrugged. “I don’t see how that kid’s any better than Comet.”

“Yes...I’m sure the people in Nevada enjoy even more craters in their backyard,” Jackal deadpanned, causing a rowdy laughter that reddened the man’s face. “But Alpha has the power rivalling Comet, plus the versatility. We’ve identified about three quirks so far, which is a milestone given how poorly the previous holders performed.”

She pointed at the people above Nine, to the face at the top. “This is Daijuro Banjo, the person we obtained Alpha from. The subsequent holders were all people whom we ran tests on. He is the fifth user of Alpha, based on the information he provided from our interrogations of him.

“Six, Seven and Eight. They didn’t accomplish much in terms of awakening Alpha. In fact they all perished early, just in time to transfer it to the next,” Jackal said, her tone neutral.

“But Nine is where it got interesting. So far, he’s managed to unlock the quirks of Five, Seven and one more unidentified user pre-Five. His power output also jumped from a constant 5% to 40% after the training we put him through.”

She played a video. “This is him at 5%.”

It showed Nine punching a tree. One hit, and it collapsed at the impact point, like an amateur woodcutter.

“And this is 40%.”

A similar punch, from ten feet away, sent a shockwave rippling through the ground like it was soup, sending chunks of rock and soil flying through the air. It was as if Nine had summoned a hurricane with his fist. The tree was nothing more than collateral damage, disappearing in the next few frames as the punch was thrown.

When the clouds of dust cleared after half a minute, there was a cone of barren ground ending where Nine was standing.

“So?” Jackal’s voice echoed in a silent, shocked room.

“That’s nice. So Japan’s got a powerhouse. You want resources, but you still haven’t said what we get out of this.” The deep voice of Leviathan rippled through the room after an age of silence, which sent some unease given Leviathan’s usual taciturn demeanour. If he spoke, it meant he was interested, and Jackal responded coolly.

“What about an army of soldiers wielding Alpha?” Jackal said.

Demon leaned forward with renewed interest. “How?”

“Alpha has a unique quirk factor, in that it’s not tied to a singular location on the body. It is the body. With the help of our surgeon, we’ve managed to transfer one of Nine’s arms onto another subject, tentative code name Ten. But it wasn’t...successful.”

“What’s the difference between the transference of Eight to Nine and Nine to Ten?”

“Eight to Nine was done with the genuine belief of being a hero. Both were quirkless, but had the ‘heart of a hero’, as the two liked to say. We’ve postulated that might have had some effect in terms of the power of Alpha. It’s a nebulous, frankly fantastical theory, but a plausible one nonetheless. After all, the transference from Nine to Ten was done...artificially. So it’s likely the tenth user could not handle the power.”

“What happened?” Demon asked.

“It’s on Page 65 if you would like to view the experiment. I’ve decided not to show it because of certain peoples’ weak stomachs.” Jackal’s eyes flickered towards Phoenix for a brief second.

Turning the page, Demon’s eyes widened for a moment before his face turned pale. “Ah, I see.”

“So…will you be able to replicate this quirk factor duplication successfully? I’m not sending my soldiers to...that.” Blizzard made a face.

“Well, that’s where I need a certain country’s research on quirk factors to make this successful.”

A new voice groaned at the corner of the room. “I figured it would come to this,” said Ouro. “Fine, you will have it, but I want a treaty that these never be used on German soil.”

“With your quirk, I don’t think you’ll need to worry.” Phoenix snorted.

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Jackal assured Ouro, who nodded.

“Anything else, Jackal?” Leviathan pressed on.

“If all goes well, no. Maybe some of your training grounds if the research reveals something new to use for Alpha’s improvement. I’ve yet to collate a list, but Siberia seems like a useful location.” Jackal looked to Blizzard, who waved dismissively.

“Which it never does,” Demon added. The others gave murmurs of assent.

“Are we done here?” Dragon chirped.

“I suppose,” Jackal said, and sat down. Despite obtaining everything she needed, there was no hint of satisfaction visible on her face.

––––––

Hi, sorry for the silence. Exams. One last paper tomorrow, and I guess things might resume as per normal, but the pace is picking up so I suppose writings will be, on average, slower.

Also, I know this isn’t a story a lot of people would be interested in? It’s not a shipping fic, but it’s one I really liked to write, as I thought the premise of “What if the HPSC discovered OFA early?” was too good to not write. So all you HPSC haters get to see Izuku’s hellish life and hate them more, I guess. And yeah the HPSC isn’t going to come off well in this story. Like, at all. Not a fun AU.

I definitely have more planned, it’s not going to be a super long story like ATDS or TFTA, but I’m thinking 3 chapters or so.

#bnha #mha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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dreamcatcherjiah · 5 years

Text

HOME PART 18 (W) ✏️

Today you were seeing Namjoon again. After nearly a month, today was the day you were gonna see him again. Your heart had been beating way faster than normal ever since you woke up and it was an awful distraction at work. You couldn’t focus on a single task, and the only thing you could do was run every possible scenario through your mind. It shouldn’t be like this. You were friends, you clicked, something that hadn’t happened to you since long before you moved to Seoul. He got you. He had been the first person you had told about the pain you felt when you gave up your dreams when you had to give up books for a computer. That alone was something you weren’t willing to give up too. Namjoon was your person. And he saw you as a friend, you weren’t about to destroy that because everyone thought you made a cute couple.

It had started simple. Heri jokingly saying she shipped you both, J-Hope and that joke about the wedding album. But things as simple as those had gotten you thinking. And when they left for their Japan promotions, not being able to see Namjoon for weeks, you realized something. You liked him, perhaps as more than a friend, but maybe that was just your subconscious missing affection after you had been single for so long. During the first week of his absence, you were able to rationalize your feelings this way. And then you face timed for the first time, and just seeing his face, his sleepy eyes after a tiring day, the way his face lit up when you told him you had missed him. That night after you hanged up, you realized you’d been in denial. You liked him as more than a friend, but it couldn’t be. “You’re literally my best friend” he’d said on numerous occasions. So, you just swallowed this realization and kept on with the farce. Then you talked to your dad and he was there for you even though he was many kilometers away. He cried with you that night, telling you how useless he felt, not being able to hug your pain away, not being able to make your tears disappear. So, he played Mono and told you how important you were to him. He told you to play their music when you were feeling sad so that he could be closer to you every day. And you did; his voice was with you when your stress became too big to ignore, when the nightmares plagued your sleep, or when you silently cried looking at the ceiling.

It was during his absence that you realized just how much he deserved the recognition and how proud you were of the place the seven of them had made for themselves. Just imagining the sleepless nights practicing, the days it took them to find the right word for a song, the blood, sweat, and tears they had spilled to get from the bottom to the top, made you want to hug them so tight and never let go. They were truly an inspiration.

Thinking this, your day at the office came and went and it was already time to meet your sister and take her to the BigHit Building. She had no idea you were going to meet BTS, you’d just told her you had a reservation in a very prestigious restaurant to celebrate her coming to Korea. She had been so excited and thankful it almost made you feel bad for lying to her. Almost. She was waiting for you in the lobby, dressed so prettily you envied her confidence and looking at you with her big eyes.

“I was about to go up to drop-kick your boss’ ass for kidnapping you.” She said jokingly. She was totally calm and you were interested in seeing how long that calm would last.

You took her to the parking lot and looked for the car Namjoon told you would be waiting for you. Once you found it, it took some convincing to get your sister to enter as she was getting more and more suspicious by the minute. “Your job pays better than I thought if you had the money to hire a driver” she even told you when the car left the company.

You sent a text to the group chat, letting the guys know you were on your way. Nervous as you were, the text was concise and short, but you were satisfied as it conveyed your message.

Fifteen minutes later, the car entered another parking lot and the engine switched off. Your sister now was looking at you as if you had kidnapped her and taken her to an unknown location to kill her. Nothing further from the truth, but she didn’t know that.

“If I didn’t know you better,” she said “I would ask you if dad had anything to do with this and you are conspiring to put my ass on a plane and send me back home… But I haven’t had time to visit half the places I want to, so I would fight you.”

The smile she had on her face was eerie and it reminded you somehow of the Cheshire cat, so you were fast to reassure her that, to get to the place where you were going to eat, you needed to ride an elevator from the basement. That made a normal curious look appear on her face and you calmed a bit.

While riding the elevator, your heart was milliseconds away from jumping out of your chest. You knew the guys would be waiting on the other side of those doors once they opened and, yes meeting the other six members in person was unnerving and you were excited about your sister’s reaction, but Namjoon was what you were worried about. Your own reaction to him, more like. Now that you had accepted you liked him; you were worried that you were going to make your first encounter in weeks more awkward than it should be. You tried calming down because if your sister saw you fidgeting, she would find out sooner and the surprise the guys had worked so hard on preparing wouldn’t work.

The elevator slowly stopped and the doors started opening, and your heart stopped. He was right there, behind Jungkook and Jimin, smiling at you with such a happy face, with his dimples showing that you forgot about everything else. You forgot about your sister, who was looking from one face to the next in utter shock, and about the rest of the guys, who were highly amused and didn’t know whether to look at your sister or at you. You dropped your bag to the ground and went out of the elevator so fast Namjoon didn’t have time to react before you were hugging him and hiding your fate on his chest. The only thing you thought to say was a really small “I missed you”.

This seemed to break the awkward atmosphere when your sister looked at you both with eyes as large as saucers and shouted “SO HE WAS THE KNJ WHO HAS BEEN TAKING YOU ON DATES THIS WHOLE TIME AND YOU DIDN’T THINK ON MENTIONING IT?! WOAH, LOYALTY REALLY IS DEAD!”

The silence that followed was broken when all nine of you started laughing and the tension finally flew out of the window. Introductions were made and questions asked. Your sister was in a trance, she wasn’t able to look at any of the seven men in the face and she kept snapping an elastic she wore on her wrist. During dinner, she was the quietest you’d seen her since she had been little and answered all the questions with either a yes or a no. That was until a shy Jungkook thought to ask whether she had a bias or not. Her head raised fast as lighting and said, very proud: “Bangtan has seven members, so I love all seven just as much.” Right after her cheeks got really red, only to get redder when Yoongi said laughing that after that statement it was clear as water that her bias was Taehyung and someone pass him the kimchi.

Namjoon had been quiet during diner as well, barely looking at you, not even when you thanked them on behalf of your yet again speechless sister for the album they had signed for her. Even when the night was coming to an end and the guys were giving you a tour of their studios, he lagged behind looking distant and in his own world. With a comeback so close, you knew how busy he must have been, so the fact that you were stopping him from working made you feel so bad.

“And last, but not least,” chanted a happy Taehyung, who was acting as a tour guide for your sister, for the amusement of the rest of the band, “here is our practice room! We spend so much time here that I don’t know why we still need a dorm, but isn’t it cool?”

It was huge, with a mirrored wall and the last equipment, nothing less for the best. The guys joked around for a while and asked you and Namjoon for your phones to take pictures. You and your sister hugged and she beamed to the camera when it was her turn to take a picture with BTS. This was going to be the happiest day of her life and you knew that.

You were finally leaving, staying a bit behind to be able to talk to Namjoon when there was a commotion at the door and the seven guys, including Namjoon behind you, started screaming not to let the door close. You were so distracted by so many voices coming from different directions that you were too slow and the door slammed shut in front of you.

The guys on the other side said to stay put, that they were going to go down to the security desk and warn someone and not to worry, but Namjoon was already going at the door full force and cursing colorfully. You had never seen him like this.

“Hey, calm down,” you said putting a hand on his forearm, and trying to mask the hurt when he shook your hand off.

He walked to the centre of the room and sat down with his back to you, like a sulking child. The image was so funny that you started laughing, maybe not the best idea if he was not in a joking mood. His head turned to you, with wide eyes and looked even angrier than when the door had slammed shut.

“What’s gotten into you today? You have been so quiet!”

You were starting to get worried, had he discovered something, had you been too obvious about what you felt for him, was the hug too much? All the possibilities for his sour mood were running through your head, making you oblivious to his movements, of how he got up and faced you. His words, however, got you out of your contemplative mood very efficiently.

“I’m sick and tired of your conformist personality and your astounding lack of ambition. What do you think would happen if you just keep complaining about your job, huh? That something will magically happen and you’ll have your dream job handed to you?”

You were taken aback by the harshness with which those words were pronounced. Namjoon was the sweetest, most understanding person you’d ever known and you had explained to him what was it exactly that had forced you to let go of your dream. You’d initially graduated university with flying colours, ready to take the world by storm you had studied a masters in editing and started an internship in a really good editorial, not one year after graduating. But the internship didn’t pay the bills, there was no prospect of you getting a promotion by the end of it, and your little sister was showing signs of being a prodigy with a brush. A prodigy’s education was expensive and your parents couldn’t keep up. Sarah had enough expenses with her pregnancy and getting ready for a new member of her family so you put on your big girl’s jeans and started working on everything, around the clock to help out at home. That was until your father told you were more of a bother and took it upon himself to find you a job that would allow you to fend for yourself and for them to only pay your sister’s expenses.

After telling him this, it hurt you deeply how Namjoon was being so quick to judge your lack of ambition, as he called it, and after all, you didn’t even know what had triggered this attack.

“What the hell? You know why I gave up. Forget it,” you said; even though he was getting on your nerves at the moment, you were still happy to see him, “let’s wait for the guys, I don’t want to fight.”

“The hell we’re gonna wait. I want you to open your eyes! Taking care of your sister is great, but for God’s sake that job is going to kill you and you just had the courage to tell your sister that you love what you do? Stop being a coward and start fighting for what you want! If you keep this up, everyone is going to step on you, and you would deserve that they did!”

The fact that he called you a coward crossed the line, and in your head, there was only a voice saying “hurt him like he hurt you right now”.

“Yeah, right because it’s so easy. Fighting for one’s dream” you said, making big quotation marks with your fingers, “I am not the one who’s had it all handed to him, the one who happened to know a famous rapper one night and, VOILA! You suddenly were given the chance! That’s not how the real world works Namjoon!” Your finger was suddenly jamming into his chest, not knowing what you were doing, not seeing the hurt in his eyes, you continued; “They just look at you with pity in their eyes! Wow, poor thing, look at her, so young and so tired! What do you think she does for a living? She looks miserable, like a zombie! Well, let me tell you something Namjoon, not all of us are millionaires by the age of twenty-five and can afford running after our dreams. That’s just not realistic!”

Hurt and with tears running down your cheeks, you turned at the noise of the door opening. Hearing shouting, the guys had decided to stop with the foolery and open the door. You took the chance and grabbed your sister by the hand dragging her to the elevator and out of the building. You didn’t expect betrayal to hurt this much, yet you cried.

HOME: Namjoon x Reader // social media au

Part 17 x Part 18 x Next

Plot: Y/N always wanted to do something worth living for. Be it singing, dancing, teaching. But after a huge fight with her parents, Y/N accepts that whatever dreams she may have had are not realistic. She accepts a job in her father’s company and moves to Korea to start a new branch of the business. But what will happen when she gets to know a rapper who advocates for self-love and following one’s dream and his six chaotic brothers?

a/n: Hello sweets!! As I told you yesterday I was having a bit of trouble with this part. It is more or less decent according to my standards, but some feedback would be welcomed as I have never written something like this. Thank you so much for your support and welcome if you have just discovered HOME. Love 💜🌙 Tag list: @threedecadesofawkward @rjsmochii @luvelyjjk @okaysoplshelpme @sakurauchiha2018 @annyeongerica @thebleuprince

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valhallamercury · 5 years

Text

the starry eyed | boh rhap!brian may x f!reader

Request(s): Well can you write something where the reader is the lead singer for a popular disco band and somehow Brian ends up going to the readers show and falls in love

The reader is in the band (she plays the piano) and she is doing an interview with MTV and ends up stealing a lot of hearts with her cuteness!

Summary: After seeing Y/N’s interview and her band, The Starry Eyed, on MTV, the boys decide to check out one of their shows (even though it’s bloody disco, according to Roger). They never anticipated their rocker guitarist to fall for the lead disco singer.

A/N: I’ve decided to combine these two requests, considering they’re very similar. I haven’t written a lot for Brian, so I hope that this is a pretty good reflection of his personality! The year is set around 1981 and the reader is around 28-29. Please tell me if you’d like a part two (or possibly a series?)

Warnings: Swearing, Brian being hashtag whipped for the reader.

Word count: 2,423

Tagged: @80s90steen @thefeetlesfan

Brian hated the cold. He hated when his cheeks were flushed due to the wind, he hated when his bouncy curls whipped around his face so he could hardly see, he hated when his fingers felt numb and he could hardly bend them. But, as he walked through the icy winds with his best mates on a journey to his apartment, he couldn’t help but love the cold as John dumped snow under Roger’s coat, on to his back. He laughed as Roger squealed, shaking violently to get rid of the cold substance trailing down his spine.

Brian turned to Freddie, seeing the man give a toothy grin back at him. “Now that, darling, is a sight.” He pointed to Roger, shaking the last remains of the snow from his coat while glaring at John. John on the other hand, smiled innocently at Roger, as if he had done nothing wrong.

Brian might have hated the blistering cold, but these moments with his friends made them worth it. Queen was skyrocketing to success, and between tours and making albums, it was hard to fit in free time with the four members without it leading to coming up with new song ideas or planning melodies and such. But, on lucky moments, Freddie, Brian, John and Roger were able to come together and relax as friends, not for work purposes or parties.

As Brian entered his apartment, his friends toppled in behind him. They kicked off their shoes, setting them against the wall as Brian had instructed them many times after too many trips from the hazardous objects. Brian headed to his kitchen to make tea, instructing Freddie to “turn on the Telly!”

“MTV sound good, Bri?” Freddie called to the tall man, even though he wasn’t really going to listen if he wanted it or not.

“That’s fine!” He called, pouring the boiling liquid into four cups. He grabbed each cup and set it on a small tray before walking out to his living room, where the three other boys were already cuddled up together on the old brown leather couch. He chuckled softly at his friends, setting down the tray before taking his rightful spot next to John.

“It’s just a bloody disco singer.” Roger grumbled, leaning back against the arm of the couch. Brian turned to the tv, only to see a beautiful woman be blessed upon his eyes.

Her hair was tied up into an immaculate hairdo, her eyes being decorated with bright blue eyeshadow and she wore a white low cut, bell sleeved shirt, a pleated baby blue skirt, and white platform shoes. She was obviously quite nervous, but she composed herself in such a way, that only someone very good at reading body language could have noticed. He was enchanted by this woman, but he couldn’t tell why.

“Today, we have Miss Y/N L/N of The Starry Eyed! Tell me, how are you feeling today?” The interviewer spoke, smiling kindly at the seemingly calm girl.

“I’m great! Wonderful, actually.” She giggled. Brian noticed how she gripped her skirt between her fingers and fiddled with the fabric.

God, even her voice was perfect, he thought to himself as the interviewer started speaking again.

“So your band’s newest single, Every Day, has reached number five on the charts. How do you feel?” The older woman asked, leaning forward in his seat. Brian couldn’t help but mimic her actions.

“It’s like a dream, honestly. The rest of the band and I, we’ve been dreaming about this moment since the day we all learned how to play cohesively,” Y/N paused to laugh for a moment. “I never thought I would be here at this very moment.” She admitted, now fiddling with the silver chain that was wrapped around her neck.

“So in the song, you’re doing majority of the vocals and the piano work, correct?” The interviewer paused, waiting for Y/N to nod, before continuing on. “Was there any inspiration behind the song? Specifically any artists or composers, perhaps?”

“Well, we, as a band, do take musical inspiration from several different sources. Reggie, our guitarist, he prefers Zeppelin and Toto. Karina, our bassist, loves ABBA and Fleetwood Mac. Julio, the drummer, he loves The Temptations and The Beatles. Audrey, our backup vocalist, she enjoys Tina Turner, Marvin Gaye, and Aretha Franklin. Me, I’m more of a Queen girl myself. We take each of those inspirations and try to mesh it into some beautiful, beautiful disco music.” She smiled into the camera, giving a small wave. It took everything in Brian not to wave back.

“I’m more of a Queen girl myself,” rang through Brian’s head like the most beautiful guitar solo he had ever heard. He couldn’t believe his ears. Y/N L/N listened to Queen. He needed to meet this girl, at whatever cost.

“So, are the rumors about an international tour true? Are the Starry Eyed finally going across contents?” The older woman persecuted the answer from the younger girl, leaning her elbows against her knees and leaning forward, an intent look in her eyes.

“Yes, it is true. We’ll be touring from the UK, Ireland, Paris, Italy, Japan, Korea, South America, North America and Canada.” Y/N listed and Brian’s eyes lit up with hope. Maybe he could meet this dream girl after all.

“Quite a busy schedule for you all.” The two women shared a laugh, before the older of the two turned back to the camera. “Well this has been, Miss Y/N L/N of The Starry Eyed, and up next, their new music video for Every Day!”

“You ‘ear that boys, we’re famous to even disco artists!” Deaky grinned at the others, but Brian’s eyes were still glued to the tv. He watched Y/N give a firm handshake to the interviewer, then wave to the crowd and walk off stage.

“Well it seems we must have to go to their concert now. Brian’s developed quite a large crush on Miss Y/N.” Freddie teased, snapping Brian out of his gaze.

“What!” Brian cried, like it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “I do-I do not have a crush on the singer.” He stammered, his eyes growing large and his cheeks growing pink, only this time not from the cold.

“Why so defensive then, Bri?” Roger grinned; teasing Brian was his favorite pastime. “Could it possibly may have a crush on the disco woman?”

Brian shot Roger a death glare, earning him a cheeky grin in return. Freddie simply clapped his hands together, an eager smile upon his face.

“That settles it! We’re going!”

As much as Brian wanted to argue, he knew in his heart that he wanted to go. He wanted to meet her. This girl that was so far out of his league that she seemed to reach the stars. He just had to meet her.

About a month or two later, Brian sat in one of the box seats of the venue for one of The Starry Eyed’s UK concerts. Fred, of course, had gotten great seats with exclusive VIP passes. Brian was definitely going to repay him for that.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest, almost to the exact same rhythm of the drums. There you stood, clad head to toe in a silky red dress; it was low cut, with long angel sleeves and two slits on each side that exposed your legs. He then noticed that each member had their own designated color, or what he assumed was their designated color.

The lead guitarist, Reggie, wore his long hair in dreads that were decorated in green beads. He had a lime green blazer and matching striped socks. Audrey, who Brian soon recognized to be Reggie’s sister, wore a bright yellow dress that sparkled nicely against her dark complexion. The drummer, Julio, was clad in all blue: from his jeans, to his slightly opened shirt, to the blue streaks that had been painted across his tan arms and face. Karina, who played bass, was dressed in a purple pantsuit while her silky black hair was pushed back with lilac clips. The show truly was a sight. But Brian’s eyes were focused on the lady in red.

You were enchanting to watch, it was almost like he had been put under your spell. The way you moved on stage, it was something he had never seen before. You were elegant and mysterious, the way you swayed your hips made his face go hot and the way you traced your fingers gracefully against the mic ran a shiver down his spine.

As the show came to an end, he felt a small tap on his shoulder. He turned, seeing a large man standing behind him.

“VIP guests are to head backstage now.” His gruff voice told the four men. Brian nodded, hearing his heartbeat in his ears. He left his seat, trying to avoid the teasing glances from his friends. He walked out from the box seats, trailing behind the large man.

“You excited, darling?” Freddie asked, a familiar grin gracing his lips. Brian smiled kindly at his friend, clapping his hand against his shoulder.

“I owe you, Fred.” He whispered to the flamboyant man. Freddie nodded, giving him a fond look.

“Don’t waste this moment then, Bri.” He grinned teasingly. Brian chuckled, looking down at his feet before back at the security guard in front of them.

He led them to a back door where he heard the voices of multiple people. He took a deep breath, feeling a soft pat on the back, from who he assumed was Freddie.

The man knocked three times, the door being opened by Karina, monolid eyes glaring at the five men before softening. A grin broke out across her face, looking at the security guard. “Y/N’s gonna flip.” Brian heard her mumble as she let them through.

“Y/N! You have guests!” Karina called, a small smirk tugging at her lips. Y/N walked out, she had already changed from her red dress to more comfortable clothes. Her eyes grew wide and her hand reached to cover her mouth which formed the perfect ‘o’ shape.

“Holy shit.” She whispered, making the four men in front of her chuckle. “Oh, oh, my god.”

“Any words for us darling, or are you going to keep stuttering?” Freddie teased, a toothy grin appearing on his lips.

Y/N lowered her hands, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “Oh, my god. Sorry, I’m acting like, like a damn fool. You’re all just, so cool, legends really. Wow, I sound like such a groupie, I’m so sorry.” She apologized, a bashful look dashing across her features. Brian couldn’t help but smile fondly, he might’ve developed a crush on the charismatic girl on television, but he was falling head over heels for the awkward girl standing in front of him.

“What Y/N means to say, is that she’s a big fan, and you’re very inspiring to her and us as a band.” A man, who Brian recalled to be Reggie, stepped out from behind Y/N and wrapped an around her shoulders. Y/N rolled her eyes, playfully pushing him off.

“Thank you, ever so much Reginald.” She deadpanned, turning back to the group with a sheepish smile.

“Well, if you’d really like to show us your appreciation, maybe you could show us a good place around here to get drinks?” Roger stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans, a boyish grin plastered on his face. Brian knew that Rog had already snuck in a few drinks into his system, hiding them from the watchful guards who explicitly warned them of “no food or drink in the theater.” But, Brian wouldn’t mention it if it meant he may or may not have a chance to talk to you.

“There’s a bar not too far from here, actually. Didn’t look too busy. Plus I heard they had something called a ‘Dancing Queen Daiquiri’, and quite frankly it sounds like a hit.” Audrey mentioned as she rose from her chair, smoothing down her yellow skirt.

Y/N nodded quickly, glancing between her band mates back to her idols. “We were going to head there after the show anyways. You’re all very welcome to join us. It’d be my treat.” She mentioned quickly, taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Can never go wrong with free drinks.” Roger declared. Deaky nodded feverishly. He was tired of trying to sneak past the beers from the guards, too.

“Sounds fabulous, darling! What do you think Brian?” Freddie turned to the tall man. Brian glanced between Freddie and Y/N, feeling his cheeks heat up. He didn’t realize that he had just been staring at Y/N the entire time they were here instead of actually speaking.

“Yeah, yeah. Drinks sound great.” Brian’s voice cracked, but he played it off as a simple cough.

“Great! I’ll get my coat and we can head out!” Y/N declared, a brilliant smile dazzling Brian’s eyes.

As they walked down the street, Brian tried to think of something to say. But, everytime he tried to make the words come out, his voice got caught in his throat. He walked in silent agony next to Y/N, until him clearing his throat caught her attention.

“Hm? Did you say something?” She asked, looking up at him with expecting eyes.

“Oh, well, I, I really liked your song. The guitar riff, it’s nice.” He began, tripping over his words like how he often tripped over his own two feet. A bashful smile crossed her face though, her eyes gleamed with awe.

“That’s, that’s so crazy. I mean! I mean, thank you.” She stumbled through her words as well, making him feel comforted by her own awkwardness.

“You don’t have to act like I’m some big superstar or something.” Brian chuckled, pushing his curly locks back with his hand. “I’m just Brian May.”

“I’m so sorry, I must be making you feel so bad by not treating you guys like actual humans. I’m so sorry, I get too excited.” She apologized repeatedly, making Brian smile kindly. He placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

“Y/N, Y/N, you’re okay.” He spoke softly, trying to keep his tone calm and comforting. And it worked. She glanced down at her shoes and back up at him, the apologies collapsing in her throat and only a toothy smile appearing through her lips.

“At least let me pay for your drinks. It’s the least I could do.”

“You got yourself a deal.”

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nctinfo · 5 years

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[TRANS] ViVi Magazine: NCT 127′s thoughts after the tour!

Q. Congratulations on completing the Japanese tour, you’ve worked hard! When you look back at the last 2 months tell us how do you honestly feel. Taeyong: There are so many different thoughts…. Too many for them all to come out straight away, so please start with a different member haha Doyoung: Starting from me then. Our 2-month long tour has finished yesterday, but right now I and the members would like to express words of gratitude towards our staff who worked so hard with us together. Also, I’m sincerely thankful to the fans who made the tour with us. I started this tour with feeling grateful and so I’m also ending it with feeling grateful. Mark: Because this tour is our very first I’m extra emotional about it. First of all with it being the first I’ve learned so much and it’s ingrained in my memory. I’m really thankful for being able to experience something this good. Taeil: I think it’s a shame that Haechan couldn’t participate from the first show because of his injury, but thankfully we managed to complete the tour smoothly till the end. I’ve learned so much through this tour and as it finished safely I have no regrets, so it’s become a really good experience. Haechan: Just like Taeil-hyung said, it really is a shame that I couldn’t be there from the very beginning of NCT 127’s Japanese tour, so I kept thinking about how next time I will have to be able to attend all shows. But still, it’s very good that I could participate in the last concert in Saitama! At that show, I felt like we’ve gotten so much help from the people around us and that felt really nice too. Johnny: With wrapping up such a long tour my first thought is, of course, the faces of our fans. We were able to see our fans from the stage. When we saw their smiles, the smiles on our faces naturally grew too. It was like looking at our own reflection in the mirror. Yuta: Me too, I really felt our fans sincere support all over again. Now after being able to share so much good time with the fans through this tour I only have good thoughts. Jungwoo: Honestly before the start of the tour I didn’t know how to do a good stage so I was only thinking about having to try my very best. But as it finished I felt like the way to becoming a real singer must be cool. I also really felt how precious standing on the stage in front of the fans is, I thought that I want to be with them forever. Jaehyun: I think that successfully finishing the tour really is thanks to the fans. When yesterday’s last concert ended I thought, we really created moments that feel like my heart is going to burst. And I thought that to be able to make these moments, the members, the staff and all of the fans had to all run together. It was like our bodies were charged with electricity, making it even more thrilling.

Yuta: It’s just that, there is a lot of fans in areas we couldn't go to so next time I want to go and meet them in these areas too. Johnny: Right. I was really happy when I was standing on the stage, I saw a lot of our fans who were just as happy, and when then last show ended I thought to myself. Even though I really enjoyed this tour, next time I’m gonna have to work my best so more people can empathise with it. I’ve made a promise with myself! Doyoung: On this tour, we also had risky performances with the use of the jungle gym, so from the moment we started practicing I thought I wanted us to do it with no injuries. Thanks to various people helping us we managed to finish it all smoothly and safely, so I’m also thankful for that. We’re having a world tour next, so I think we’ll be able to showcase cool performances there too because of that! (members clapping enthusiastically) Taeyong: And now it’s my turn. Until now we’ve gone to Japan so many times already, but because we’ve been going all around the country with this tour, Japan feels so big now. I kept feeling like I was in Japan for the first time all the throughout the whole tour. Like that it was a shining time for me. Also, I was very happy to find out there were so many people who wanted to see us, there were so many moments when my heart felt so overjoyed when I was standing on the stage. In the future we want to come to Japan more often, both as NCT 127 and individually!

Q. How did you spend the night prior to your last concert? Johnny: I drank some water, took a bath, had one cup of beer, had more water and went to sleep haha I thought it would help me to unwind. Taeil: I tried to go to bed as quickly as possible. But it ended up being the usual time………. Doyoung: I didn’t do anything special and spent it like I normally would. But there's one thing I need to say, I slept in a humidifying mask. Doing so protected my voice. Jaehyun: I watched a really short video of us on stage and went to sleep. Mark: The Saitama Super Arena was not only our last show but also lasted 3 days. To be honest when we completed the first 2 days I was feeling a bit bummed. So the night before the last one I went to sleep with the mindset of ‘I want the 3rd one to be without any regrets’. Haechan: Since I hurt my ankle I went for a foot bath before the concert. I was thinking ‘How should I do tomorrow’... And then went to sleep straight after. Normally I go to sleep late but weirdly enough I slept very early for the past 3 days. So I had enough sleep on the last night! Jungwoo: Nice……. I was super nervous before the last day. Since it was the last show I kept thinking about how I wanted it to be of high quality. So I kept telling myself ‘Let’s keep not making any mistakes and have maximum strength!’. I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, but I did take a warm shower and the next day I had an energy drink 2 hours before the show hehe Yuta: I took a bath, and while soaking in the water I was thinking a lot. This tour has started in Korea. A long time felt so short. I thought that during that time I was able to experience so many different things and so I have also grown as a person. The next day was our last we’d spend with fans in Japan, so I was also thinking about the ways we could express our feelings more.... So I was bathing while thinking about these things. Taeyong: The night prior to the last day me and Doyoung who I was rooming with talked a lot. As people who live together and will also grow together as members, we really talked about a lot of things. And then I took a bath with Yuta! Doyoung: Yes! We did talk a lot, didn’t we. It was a good time.

Q. Do you feel like you’ve grown on this tour, or maybe do you regret anything? Yuta: Until now we were able to show a lot of our performances on TV. So without even knowing I thought I should make something nice for our confidence. But at the bottom of my heart, I was like, I want to do something for our fans! When I saw the faces of our staff working hard behind the scenes for us to shine, I thought I have to try even harder so I can repay them! And in all honesty, I did work hard, but no matter how hard I work I think there will always be some regrets. But don’t we grow more when we regret something and think’ ‘Next time I’ll have to do it like this’? So for me, I don’t think having regrets is a bad thing. Doyoung: I thought, rather than how we did it at our first concert in Seoul, isn’t it better to take it easy in a good way? So with the mindset like ‘I look less nervous in front of the camera, I want to show a happy image or other various images!’ I relaxed a little. I’ve said that in interviews we’ve done while touring, but I wanted to improve the technical aspect so I could perform without thinking about anything. I wanted to be so lost in it so that I could not think about anything after it’s over, but it’s a little shame that I couldn’t do it till the very end. Jaehyun: The stage aspect when you perform over and over……. For example, what kind of performance different than ones we do on TV would be good, what kind of expression and gestures will be portrayed easily, I feel like I was really able to grow in terms of that. The regretful thing is that I started learning Japanese as we started touring, so I feel like I should’ve studied more. If I learned more I could have deeper conversations with our fans, so next time we meet I want to do better! Taeil: If I compare the first and the last shows on the tour I think I’ve gotten more relaxed. Rather than performing in a fixed way at the beginning of the tour, I wish I had fun like the fans and I were breathing together from start to finish. There was a lot of things I was unfamiliar with since it was the first tour, but sharing stories, talking, and performing with our fans elevated the ‘Let’s do it together!’ atmosphere, so I think I’ve grown in the communication with each other aspect. Sometimes I feel like ‘I’ve done well there’, sometimes it’s like ‘I should’ve done better”. I think it would be better if I could be satisfied with everything because I still lack a sense of security. Johnny: I think I’ve grown in a lot of aspects, but there are two things I want to talk about. First off, concentration. And once again I’ve broadened my view. When performing I wanted to look all around the venue to feel the concert atmosphere. I think I was able to do it through this tour. There’s a lot of minor things I regret. But I think there is no perfect stage. I might not see one for the rest of my life……. So in the future, I want to try my best to find our perfection. Doyoung: Johnny-hyung looked disappointed that he couldn’t flip his long hair like he did in <Wakey-Wakey> MV though? Johnny: Ah~! hahahahaha But there’s an actual reason for this! I didn’t want to surprise the fans on the first day of Saitama Arena shows, so I didn’t do it. So I thought of having long hair on the second day, but then I thought that I would also have to do it on the third day. But on the third day, we had a DVD shooting! So, in the end, I couldn’t do it at all hahaha Doyoung: Wouldn’t it be good if you did it from day one hahaha Mark: When I compare the first show in Seoul and the last show in Saitama, I think I’ve gained stamina to perform for 3 hours. But like Johnny and Yuta-hyung, if I started nitpicking single details from performances and think like ‘it would’ve been better like this’ it would be like this till the very end. Even though that’s the standard I look at details with, deep inside there was a lot of aspects when I was like ‘that’s a shame’. The point is that there’s no stage without even the slightest regret. Jungwoo: I’ve only joined NCT 127 late autumn last year. So I had less experience and had a lot different member choreography to memorise. For that reason, at first, I was anxious with thoughts like ‘I’m scared’, ‘Can I do it’, but when I got on stage I saw fans being happy and cheering for me. Thanks to this the weight was dropped off my shoulders and I was able to show you who I am. I feel like I’ve showcased really good stages in that regard and I think I’ll be able to do cool stages in the future too. Haechan: Anything you regret? Jungwoo: Ah~ There’s really a lot. I’m still unripe and like Mark said, if you start nitpicking on little things there’s no end to it. So out of all of these things, I think the most regretful is that I couldn’t look into the camera, it didn’t come out well. Haechan: I think I’ve grown in the aspect of ‘making a performance’. I was talking to the tour directors I was sharing my opinions like ‘Wouldn’t it be better if it’s done like this?’ and changed things bit by bit. Like this, I’ve learned ways to make things through communication with no doubts. And of course not being able to spend much time together with fans due to my injury is something I regret. Taeyong: I think this tour has taught me again that this is my job. Something I want to do and something I have to do in the future… And one more thing, I’ve learned how important it is to be thankful to people that surround you. Or maybe rather than being thankful, we should get to know people who support us. And I like the scenery in Japan so whenever I come here I always try to take some time off to go sightseeing. But because this time it was mad busy I couldn’t find any free time. Besides, I couldn’t eat as much as I wanted even if my body found it delicious hahaha So I want to go back to Korea with my restraints left behind with the tour ending today!

Translation: Alex @ FY! NCT (NCTINFO) | Source: ViVi [ Kor ] — Do not repost or take out without our permission!

#NCT #NCT 127 #taeil #johnny #taeyong #yuta #doyoung #jaehyun #jungwoo #mark #haechan #t:trans #t:interview #vivi magazine

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 5 years

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Part XII - The Untimely Downfall of Strangers

read parts 1-11 here

THEN - Day 1612

I didn’t know when interviewers would stop asking me about Margot, but today wasn’t that day.

I’d done three interviews for the movie--and each one seemed to focus generally on the whole idea that now, apparently, I was an actor. They also managed to slip in a question about whether or not I’d spoken to Margot. After the third one, Jeffrey had made an executive decision to demand that each media outlet cut those parts.

Things had died down, really. There weren’t new headlines every day, new rumors, new speculations about where Margot was and what I was doing about it.

In fact, I didn’t know where she was, I didn’t really want to know, and I frankly just wanted to move on with my life.

It’d been fourteen months since we’d broken up. The first year was miserable and I made it all the way to the one year mark still feeling like it was yesterday. Reliving all of it at the anniversary seemed to be healing in a way--or at least, it helped me process what had happened and hope for a better 2017.

So now, when people asked me if I’d spoken to her, if I’d heard from her, I couldn’t help but just be angry and annoyed and bothered.

I hadn’t heard from her, I hadn’t spoken to her, and it was my understanding that no one else had either. She hadn’t released music, made a statement, done much of anything, really.

The only thing to have even come from her mouth (or Nick’s, more realistically) was a statement in 2015 when she went to treatment that she was putting her health first and would take all of the time she needed. Nothing since.

“Anything new in terms of your love-life? You were in a very public relationship with Margot Jones--everyone is dying to know more about why it didn’t work out.”

I licked my lips quickly, thankful that the interview we were filming wasn’t live and thankful that Jeff was just off camera. I could see the way his eyebrows dipped at the sound of her name, looking up from his phone to see how I’d handle it.

“Nothing new,” I shook my head, offering the woman a small smile as I looked over to Jeff--part of me hoping he’d interrupt and redirect. “Just uh, focusing on the movie, some new music. Definitely just taking a pause for myself.”

Okay, so maybe I did wonder where she was and what she was doing. With the album coming out and with my time being spent increasingly in L.A., I couldn’t help but wonder what her life was now.

“How did the break up affect the rest of the boys from One Direction? I mean--clearly it was a heartbreaking thing I’m sure for you and Margot, but, any word how they’ve dealt with it?”

I shook my head slightly, hoping that this woman would pick up the hint that she wasn’t going to get much out of me. “You know, I think they’ve been so excited to focus on their new ventures as well, they’re all going to do some great things, so I’m wishing them the best in terms of time off and new adventures.”

None of that felt true in the moment--but I’d also been coached for years now on how to avoid uncomfortable questions.

But I wasn’t going to tell Macie--this woman in a yellow dress--that Niall refused to speak to me for the weeks after it happened because he claimed I let her walk out. I wasn’t going to tell her that Liam and Louis both avoided me for a while in fear that I’d be too emotional to handle the work related things we had to do at the end of the year.

I certainly wasn’t going to tell her that I hadn’t spoken to Zayn in months and had no idea if he even knew what had happened.

I knew Margot was talking to them--I mean, I figured she had kept in touch with Niall at first. But then I got a text from Liam asking if I knew that she was home (I didn’t, no one had told me).

And now, when Niall sent me a stupid meme or a text about sports and mutual friends, I’d fight the urge to ask how she was. I’d type it out and erase it and hope that one day he’d just decide to tell me everything he knew about what she was doing and how she was feeling and why on earth she decided that I wasn’t good enough for her anymore.

I’d heard from Niall that she wasn’t really writing. He’d seen her for lunch the last time he was in town, but he didn’t give me more than that. I wonder if she’d asked him not to.

It wouldn’t surprise me if his loyalty now laid with her--I mean, they’d always been close and for some reason, Margot found Niall to be much more entertaining than he really was. If he was at a point now where he chose her over me, I could live with it.

I’d already lived with Margot choosing everything else over me.

THEN - Day 724

I stood up on the loge level, stage left, watching as Margot finished the last song. The stadium was huge--it felt bigger in the audience than it did when we’d played it only a month prior. Bodies filled the seats that allowed them all to watch my girlfriend do her thing--a much less flashy version than she’d previously put on.

Margot had always had a love hate relationship with her fame--she loved it in the sense that she didn’t know anything else now. She loved her fans and her music and being creative. She loved the life that it allowed her to live.

But at the same time, she hated the way it dampened her spirit and her freedom and her world. She’d tried, over the last two years, to make music that was more her and less radio. She did different set designs, different wardrobe ventures, and worked tirelessly to be involved in every decision that was made about her life. I think that’s why she seemed so exhausted all of the time.

Sinead was beside me, swaying along to the song she’d heard probably 700 times by now. She offered a smile in my direction when she noticed my eyes on her, and I took the opportunity to lean over and speak into her ear.

“Are you as sick of this song as I am?”

She laughed, rolling her eyes as she shrugged. “Let’s just say we’re lucky she’s a good writer.”

I nodded and pushed my lips out in thought--knowing very well that Margot was likely just as sick of this song as I was. It didn’t stop her from dancing to it on stage like she was having the time of her life.

I wondered, as I watched the girl I loved, what thoughts went through her head at night. She was far more in demand than we were--whether or not 2014 had brought One Direction bigger stadiums and more press and more things on our to-do list.

I’d always wondered--especially when Margot and I started dating--if there’d come a time when she took a backseat. Not because I felt she needed to--more so because I think she wanted to.

“How’s she been lately?” I leaned over to ask Sinead, Margot spoke to the crown in gratitude of their presence and good energy. I knew she was getting close to the end of the show.

Sinead moved her head from side to side--admitting that Margot had most likely been difficult lately. She’d always get to a point at the end of the tour where she was ready for it to be over. She’d get cranky and homesick and just more irritable. She’d been having the time of her life on this tour--but I knew, with only two weeks left, she was ready to return to LA and begin filming the final season of her television show.

“She’s been okay--she’s tired. She’s super glad you’re here.”

Her words made a smile fight onto my face. The distance was hard--especially in the summer. Other times of year we could take weekends or weeks and align our schedules. We could try to be in the same city at the same time for different reasons.

But touring in the summer often had us on opposite sides of the planet for weeks at a time. Which is why--despite being rather sick of hearing Margot’s most recent number one single--I was happy to be spending my days off with her. We were right in the middle of our U.S. leg of the Where We Are tour, so being stateside gave me more access to Margot. We did our best, as always, to align any legs of our tours if we could--often playing the same venues only weeks apart.

So even if there were weeks when she was in Japan and I was in Spain, laying beside her at night in a hotel or on her bus made all of the red-eye flights worth it.

“Did you book her charter for when she comes to see us?”

Sinead nodded--reaching for her phone to send a text to Margot’s head of security. “Yep--she’s back in LA for a few days and then she’ll meet up with you guys for a long weekend in mid-September. Back for filming at the end of the month and then with you for the last three shows in October.”

Sinead’s mind often amazed me. Not only was it her job to keep Margot’s schedule straight--meaning fittings and shows and press and radio and filming and recording and rehearsing and writing--but she also had to have a fair enough understanding as to where in the world I was.

Sinead’s job--sometimes--seemed like she was trying to mix oil and water.

But she loved it--her and Margot had become close and she got on well with everyone on my side of the equation, too. I just wondered sometimes if she had the aching for a quiet life. Did she wish she could take time off in the summer instead of trailing behind Margot through different concert venues?

Margot’s words in the microphone caught my attention as the crowd erupted in cheers. “There’d be no better way--naturally--to end a show, so for our last song, can everyone sing as loud as they can?”

Sinead clapped and smiled down at Margot--who looked like a small figurine from our spots overhead. “I’m more sick of this one, to be honest,” she grinned up at me and started humming along as the band began to play.

NOW - Day 1718

Margot brought her eyes up to mine--I could see the thoughts swirling in her head as she seemed to scan my face. The desperation in my voice was probably obvious. “Don’t put up another wall,” I said, “we’ve got enough to take down.”

She licked at her lips and tried to exhale deeply--but she was stuck. She shook her head eventually and let out a laugh. “It’s not that easy, Harry. It’s like--here we are, just like the old summers, and I’m still afraid that there are all these people out here who would ruin our relationship if they could.”

I nodded--trying my best to validate the fear she held in her eyes. “I know, baby, I know. But s’not going to happen. It didn’t happen before.”

She looked away at that--apparently our interpretations were different. “Harry we were always fighting about the way you interacted with fans.”

“S’part of the job, Margot. I can’t just not be nice.”

She rolled her eyes--still standing a few feet away from me in the center of her deck. It was comical, almost--we reestablished our roles without even speaking of it--falling into place like we’d worn out footsteps on the floor.

“I’m not saying you can’t be nice. I’ve never said that, okay?”

I took a deep breath, not wanting to fight on the last night we had together--but also thankful for the fact that we were speaking. A few weeks ago, we couldn’t say the same.

“You are the person I care most about on this planet,” I said, reaching forward to bring her towards me. She looked at my hands hesitantly, wondering if she should take the risk and step towards me. I offered her a small smile when she met my eyes--walking towards me finally and extending her hands to meet mine.

I looked up at her, heart in my throat and emotion ready to pour out of me. “I want to do this, Margot. I want to try again. But if we do--I need you to know that I’m not backing out like last time. I’m not giving up like I did.”

She blinked a few times--processing my words. I didn’t know if she knew what I mean--I didn’t know if she took the words as seriously as I did.

I wanted her--all of her. I didn’t want to do this half-arsed or tentatively or with any reservations. There wasn’t a doubt it my mind that Margot was the person for me. With all of the eye-rolls and sarcasm included.

“I’m in if you are,” I told her, letting my thumbs rub circles on top of her skin.

She let out a quiet laugh, not as closed-off as she’d been a few minutes early. “I’m in, Harry--clearly I’m in,” she shrugged, another laugh escaping her lips as she looked around us--silently making reference to the fact that we were behaving like a couple.

But that was the thing about Margot--I don’t know if there was any other way I knew how to be with her. Either completely with her, 100% all in, or doing everything in my soul to forget her name and forget the way she laughed when I made a stupid joke.

THEN - Day 1189

Liam was mad at me and I knew it.

But that didn’t stop me from biting into the last banana in the fruit bowl in the green room before our performance at The X-Factor live finals.

He had his feet up on the coffee table--already dressed and done with hair and makeup. He scrolled on his phone, the tension building between us as I seemed to stand in the middle of the room awkwardly.

I’d told them to just drop it. I’d told them--probably a thousand times by now--that walking on eggshells wasn’t going to help anyone. They didn’t need to be nice to me or give me space or ask how I was feeling.

I told them to just act as if nothing had happened. The more we could just forget about it and move on, the easier it would be for me to not want to blow my brains out during these last few weeks of promo.

I’d told management that every single media outlet we worked with had to be contractually obliged to not mention her or our relationship or the break up. I made it extremely clear the morning after it happened in New York that I’d get up, walk out, or tell whoever was interviewing to go ahead and fuck right off. It might do well for ratings, but it wouldn’t do well for our overall image.

But still, I was sulking around most of the time, drinking too much and sleeping too much and ignoring too many text messages from important people.

Niall would call to make sure I was up and on my way to events, but I’d just let them go to voicemail. My mum would text and her message would go unread for a day or two before I had the courage to face the outside world that seemed to move on from the cold day in New York--the place in which my brain was stuck.

I wanted so badly to move on--I wanted to forget about her and the feelings and the way that now my head seemed foggy and unable to focus on anything but the words she’d said over the last six months.

“Can you not just stand there? At least sit or something,” Liam said, not bothering to look up at me.

“Why do you care where I am?” I shot back, ignoring the fact that Lou worked on Niall’s hair only a few feet away. I was sick of pretending like I was okay--yet I still hoped people would just treat me like I was.

“Because you’re just standing there like you’re waiting for something, mate. Just sit down and relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax,” I said, my voice firm and angry as Louis entered the room with a smile on his face.

“How’s everyone doin’? An exciting night, yeah?”

“Bad time, Louis,” Niall said, the noise of Lou’s blow dryer muffled his voice from across the room.

Louis’ eyes seemed to scan the room--falling on me with a bit of disappointment. That’s how I’d sum it up, really--the way they’d been treating me. Disappointed. Disappointed that I hadn’t fixed everything between me and Margot, disappointed that I was depressed and in a shit mood. Disappointed that I wasn’t thoroughly enjoying the end of our band as if I wasn’t scared shitless of what was next.

“Y’alright, Harry?” Louis asked, flopping down onto the couch as he put his legs up beside Liam, crossing him arms over his chest as he waited for my answer.

“No--clearly I’m not fucking alright. Is that what you all need to hear? Do you want me to just admit that I’m fucking miserable and an idiot and I fucked up?”

Liam finally brought his eyes up now to look at me--Niall watched me through the mirror that hung in front of him.

“I know you’re all pissed at me--okay? I know you’re mad that I didn’t figure out how to fix things with her but I didn’t fucking know that was coming. I didn’t know her solution to the problem was to throw everything away. Did any of you? Yeah? Did any of you know that she was falling apart? You were all her friends, too. But none of you hold any guilt in any of this?”

Lou switched off the blow dryer--setting in on the table as she busied herself with her phone, clearly uncomfortable with being stuck in the middle of such a weighted conversation.

“Harry, no one’s trying to blame you,” Niall stood from the chair and moved towards us--his eyes narrowed as he watched me. “We wish you guys stayed together, f’course--but we’re not mad.”

“No? Not mad?” I let out a sarcastic laugh and let my hands slap against my thighs. “Then why the fuck have all of you reached out to her to see how she is but you can’t even bear to be in the same room as me?”

I didn’t have physical proof that they’d reached out--but I wasn’t stupid. I knew that as soon as Niall found out, he likely called and texted her a thousand times to get more details than he got from me. I knew Liam was upset to hear she’d entered treatment--Louis was freaked out that he didn’t get to see her before she left.

Radio silence in the room as Liam set his phone down on the coffee table and rested his elbows on his knees.

“We get it--okay? We get that this is hard and new and that all of us are dealing with a lot of change.”

I rolled my eyes at him. Sure--change. The word had lived in my head for a long time now. Ever since the spring when Zayn left in the middle of a fucking tour and Margot started asking about my plans for life after the band.

Things were changing for all of them, too, but not in the way it had for me. We’d all lost a bandmate. We’d all lost a friend. We were all going into uncharted territory and hoping for the best.

But they still had the people beside them to make it less terrifying. Liam had his girlfriend, Louis had his. Niall had us and his brother and his friends from back home.

I had them. I had my family. I had the support of people who cared about me--but none of it would make up for the fact that I didn’t have her.

In the span of 30 days, I was losing the two of the most important things in my life. I looked at the three of them--shocked that they thought they understood how I was feeling when none of them had been in this set up.

“No,” I shook my head, anger bringing heat to my face as I let my tongue glide along the back of my teeth as I headed for the door. “You don’t get it.”

NOW - Day 1719

Being friends with James Corden was a blessing and a curse. There were plenty of ways that being his friend had perks. I’d met a lot of people through him--I always could count on him to be game for some take away and video games, and most importantly, he was supportive and loving and all of that good friend stuff.

But now, as I sat in his the passenger seat of a Range Rover in a parking lot in LA, getting ready to film a carpool karaoke segment, I was less than impressed with my friend as he laughed to himself. “M’not gonna go too hard, Harry--but people are figuring it out. I mean, you haven’t exactly been subtle about it, have you?”

I rolled my eyes, rubbing at the bridge of my nose as a woman brushed more powder onto my nose, completely unable to stop the smile from reaching my cheeks as I responded. “People don’t know everything--and you always want me to tell you everything.”

“I do not,” he defended, reaching for the microphone that clipped to the inside of his collar.

I adjusted the sunglasses on my head and watched as traffic whizzed by us outside. “It’s not a big deal, we’re just taking it slow.”

“Please do not ask him a shit ton about it,” Jeff said, coming up behind the woman who did my makeup-- a cup of coffee in his hands.

“Oh I’m going to ask him about it,” James nodded confidently. “And he’ll give me some shit-eating grin answer and I’ll try not to laugh at how ridiculous he sounds.”

Jeff let out a laugh and headed back for the hallway--clearly not too worried about whatever was about to happen. And that was another blessing--being friends with James meant he’d give me shit and push me a bit, but he also had nothing but respect for me and my privacy.

I shook my head as I took a sip of the coffee Jeff had delivered--thankful for the people around me. Emma, my assistant, seemed to be buried in her phone as she hid beneath the overhang of the CBS studio only a few yards away. Doing the first bit of promo with my album out was sure to be nerve-wracking, but I felt good about the fact that things between Margot and I were stable. At least--stable enough.

We were talking and texting like things were back to the way they were--before she was sad and distant.

James’ studio manager gave us cue to get started--James turned the key in the ignition and I pulled my door shut, I pointed two fingers at James to imply I’m watching you.

A voice came over the walkie-talkie that James had in the cupholder--giving us permission to pull out and turn right onto the busy road in front of us. It wasn’t my first time doing one of these with James--but it was my first without other people sat beside me in the car.

He did as we were told, and once we were on the road, mixed in with the lunch-time traffic, the voice inside the walkie-talkie let us know that cameras were now on and filming, we could start whenever we pleased.

James cleared this throat and adjusted in his seat, I gave him the thumbs up to let him know I was game. A few seconds of silence.

“Oh man, thank you so much for helping me get to work--I really, really appreciate it,” James had both hands on the wheel now, looking over to offer me a small smile.

“Thanks for the ride, s’my pleasure,” I nodded at him, wondering how long he’d take to get to it. I knew he planned on asking about the band--my new album, the movie, all of that. But I also knew that he’d tastefully weave in some questions about Margot. Whether or not he named it as such, I was yet to find out.

“The last time you were here, you were not alone in the car--and now you are, now you’re up front.”

“I was back middle,” I nodded, remembering the last time we did this--a stop for McDonald’s half way through as Liam got hungry.

“Yeah,” James said. “That’s right, you were right there, and now you’re right here, how d’ya feel?” He motioned to both spots in the car that I’d occupied, I took a second to look around in the front, appreciating the space I had now without Liam and Louis on either side of me.

“I feel like--uh--like I have more control over the buttons.”

“Over the air and stuff?”

“The buttons, yeah,” I laughed, gaining a laugh from James as he brought his eyes back to the road.

“I don’t know if you’re speaking on a different level--if the buttons, if you’re saying you’ve got more control over the buttons but the buttons are something deeper than just the buttons in the car.”

I laughed, nodding slightly as I picked up on his analogy. “Could be.”

I couldn’t help but notice that I felt more at ease than I’d felt in interviews for a long time--especially now that things seemed to be more concrete with Margot. The hardest part of interviews after we broke up was the uncertainty. What did I say? How did I manage to be pleasant when I was in a shit mood?

Releasing the album, having it out and streaming now felt a bit strange. The stories I told through lyrics and music were no longer just for me. And now, singing along to them in the car with James opened me up for a whole slew of questions I’d been rehearsing my answers to for a week.

He asked me what I’d been up to since I’d seen him last and he complimented the album, which felt exciting and nauseating at the same time. I wondered, for a second, if this is how Margot felt when she heard it for the first time.

He played a few songs and we chatted about what it’d been like to be making this album alone--without the safety net of a band of friends standing behind you. But I could tell, when he looked over at me, that he was about to go in for the kill.

“So people have heard the album now--have friends and family texted you to let you know they’ve listened and which song they like best?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve gotten a few messages from people.”

“Right--and have you gotten word, I mean--let’s be real, people know there’s one person that this album really focuses on, yeah?”

I fought the smile on my face--letting my gaze float out the window as I plucked at my lower lip. “M’not sure what you mean.”

“Oh yeah, Harry, sure,” James laughed, causing me to readjust in the seat as I let out a laugh.

“Margot Jones, yeah? There’s been a lot of talk about your relationship with her and your break up and everything in between.”

“Mmm, mhm,” I nodded--hoping that some honesty would gain me credit or respect or something that would make James tone it down a notch or two. “Yeah--I think people will hear this album and wonder--y’know--if there are pieces about certain events or days or people. But the best part about making an album is really letting the music tell the story so you don’t have to.”

James’ eyebrows were raised, his eyes on me as we took a left turn. “Casual answer, Harry, really,” his laugh filled up the car, contagious enough that even I started giggling a bit--at least enough to relax.

“No but really--you’ve been seen out with Margot lately, which I think is quite the turn of events for folks who followed your relationship.”

I stared at him, somewhat surprised at the straightforwardness of his question, but also a bit impressed by his ability to play the clueless card. I always found that interesting when I did interviews with people I actually knew--people who were my friends.

When I came and saw James or did radio things with Nick, it was funny to hear them ask me questions in front of the camera that they already knew the answer to.

“Yeah--I mean, Margot’s a wonderful person, and it’s nice to spend time with someone who knows you so well.”

I didn’t know if that would cut it--I didn’t know if that was vague enough for Jeff’s liking or subtle enough for Margot’s.

“Fans really love to speculate about songs and lyrics and what’s about who. I think you could probably find twelve page essays online that detail,” he let out a laugh, I waited for him to spit it out, knowing full well where he was going. “That detail why each lyric is about her or about your relationship.”

“S’dedication, really,” I joked, picking up my water bottle to take a sip. Margot said that that was my tell. I’d reach for water or for something to do during an interview when I got a bit nervous. I pushed the thought out of my head.

“Y’should have pulled a Maroon 5--called it Songs About Margot,” He suggested, a cheeky grin on his face, which nearly caused me to spit the water out in my mouth .

“Yeah we threw the idea around actually,” I joked, running a hand through my hair as James pressed a button, another song coming out of the speakers.

We drove around like that for about an hour--singing and laughing and even switching shirts in an empty parking garage. We made our way back towards the studio, and once we arrived, I climbed out of the car and greeted Jeff with sunglasses over my eyes.

“Vague enough, yeah?”

Jeff shrugged, a smile on his face as he handed me my phone. I think he was just happy that I wasn’t so fucking miserable anymore.

“Hey,” James called from behind me, a woman tugged at his shirt to get his microphone loose. “Still on for dinner next week in London?”

“Absolutely,” I nodded. “You’re cooking for me, right?”

He rolled his eyes, appreciating my jokes as he handed the car keys to a production assistant. “Yeah right--naked beneath an apron and all.”

THEN - Day 1528

Being in Los Angeles wasn’t weird. Being here without Margot was.

I mean--I guess I couldn’t even say that. I’d been here plenty without her. Hell--the first few times we jetted all the way to the West Coast, I didn’t even know if she knew I existed.

But this was her turf--no matter where I was or who I was with, Los Angeles would always make me think of her. The exit on the freeway to get to the driveway where we met, the right turn down Sunset Boulevard to get to the studio where she’d filmed her show.

So now--sitting in an office on Selma Avenue felt like I was intruding on her territory.

I’d always wondered if I’d see her. Would I bump into her on a red carpet? Would she ever do events again? Would I see her at Niall’s wedding (if that ever happened)? I had no clue where she was at--both physically and emotionally, so I was left to wonder what on earth she did with her time in the city that seemed to belong to her.

Our meeting was over--I stood from the chair and hoped to god I could get some food into me before I had to go to whatever meeting I had next. Finishing the album brought forth a lot of conversations about money and planning and terms of agreement.

“Grab a burger?” Emma suggested, watching as I followed behind her towards the door. I reached into my pocket, fishing my phone out and checking the messages I’d received in the span of an hour and a half. One was from Mitch, the other from a friend, and two from my mom.

“Sounds delightful,” I said with a smile, listening as my publicist began to list good places nearby.

Jeff held his hand out to motion towards the door--ushering me back to the car that would be waiting outside. “There’s that place in the Roosevelt Hotel,” he reminded.

“That place has great fries,” Mark--the head of the artist relations spoke, following us into the hallway. “Good to see you, Harry, we’ll meet again in a few weeks once we get this finalized on our end.”

I shook his hand, offering a smile. “Thanks, of course, good to see you as well.”

I turned to follow them towards the main entrance, still distracted by the messages on my phone. I followed silently behind them, laughing at the picture my mum had sent of her cat in the garden, until suddenly, I lifted my eyes and saw her watching me with wide eyes.

My feet kept moving--mostly because Jeff’s were doing the same behind me. Emma was staring straight ahead--both of them likely just as surprised as I was.

Sinead seemed to knock into her from behind, lifting her eyes to connect with mine. Margot--whose hair looked darker and whose eyes seemed less sunken in--fell back into step quickly, almost as if she hadn’t faltered at all.

Jeff was in the middle of a sentence--something about what Mark had said and the car outside and suddenly his words were floating around in the hallway like they’d fade after a few minutes if I didn’t respond.

“Yeah, sounds good,” I said--unsure if my response was even appropriate or logical. I followed Emma out to the parking lot, and once the door was shut behind us, I turned to face Jeff.

Emma, who’d turned to face me, seemed to scan over my face to make sure I was okay.

“Is no one going to address that?” I asked, holding my palms up to encourage some kind of response from either of them. They both stared at me blankly. “Am I supposed to go back in there? Am I supposed to go address the fact that she’s here and we just saw each other and--”

“And say what?” Jeff asked, lifting his pointer finger to flick his sunglasses down over his eyes. “It’s been over a year.”

“I’m aware, Jeffrey,” I bit out, narrowing my eyes at him.

He’d long been a supporter of the Move On From Margot campaign--something that seemed to be a common theme among my friends and family and team.

“I’m not trying to be hard on her, okay? I just don’t want you to--” he cut himself off, letting his shoulders rise and fall as a car pulled up to deliver us to our next location. He opened the door and let Emma climb in first.

I faltered for a second--my eyes flickering back to the doorway. Was I supposed to do something? Was I supposed to talk to her?

“Don’t want me to what?” I prompted, the hum of the engine quieted when the car shifted into park.

“I don’t want you to move backwards. You’ve done so well since the New Year.” I let out a sigh, looking down at the ground before back up at him. “Let’s get lunch.”

I gave in then--I climbed into the car and watched as the building faded out of sight. I wondered why she was there and what she thought and did she notice that I cut my hair?

I pulled opened the message thread between us--the one that I’d saved and had yet to erase.

Her last message stared up at me.

I’m room 1432. Come by when you can.

I should have known then. I should have known when she got her own hotel room and asked me to come by. I should have known it was coming.

I let my thumbs hover over the keys, as if I had something to say or words to speak and emotion to show. After a few seconds of staring at those words--the last she’d sent me, I deleted the thread entirely.

THEN - Day 753

“Don’t even touch it, Liam,” Louis voice was louder than necessary, but my laughter seemed to drown out Harry’s groan as Niall pushed play on the laptop in my lap.

“I’ll touch whatever I want, thank you very much,” Liam replied calmly, watching as the screen turned from black to white, big text filling the screen that read Where We Are 2014.

Niall had decided he was going to document their tour--small clips from his phone, pictures we’d all taken, different footage of the five of them goofing around started to play as Zayn shoved Louis so he could get a better look.

The tour was almost over--mine had ended two weeks prior--so we were officially set up to be on the same continent for a little over two months. And it was moments like these, really, that made the traveling and the distance worth it.

A photo of Liam and I with giant sombreros flashed across the screen, followed by a clip of the night that Harry caught 29 goldfish in his mouth when he demanded I throw them and we try to set a world record.

Harry--who’d been more emotional than usual--was reluctant to even watch. He knew that the end of tour always made him a bit nostalgic, and while that was more than okay with me, he didn’t necessarily love the teasing that came from the rest of the boys.

I sat next to him on the floor of the green room, my back up against the couch as we all stared at the laptop that Niall had lugged around all summer. Lou and Paul were watching on as well, and Harry’s hand on my thigh felt like a good reminder that even when I had bad days, I had the people beside me to bring me back down to earth.

I wondered, when I was on the road with them, if it would have been easier to do all of this with a band. Would there be less stress if the fame had been spread amongst three or four other girls? Would I have more fun if I had friends with me on stage, people to walk red carpets with?

Sure, I’d somehow become a package deal with his band, often attending events together and even walking red carpets as if I was just part of the group--but did I stand a better chance as a part of a whole?

The truth was that I’d never know, and while there were certainly perks to being in a group, there were also drawbacks. I saw the way the boys would fight. I saw the angry text messages and the cold stares after a disagreement the night before.

I saw what it was like to be stuck around the same five people--literally in the same ten foot vicinity with the same five people--for months on end. I saw the way that they were sad to leave tour, but also thankful for their own bed that wasn’t just a meter below someone else’s.

“Oh, Liam--the cutest little grin,” Zayn laughed, his accent thick as he reached up to pinch Liam’s cheeks.

I think these were the moments when we all questioned what life would be like had it turned out any other way. How would things be for them if they weren’t a group? What would happen if there were three or four instead of five? Changes within our little world felt like they’d rock the boat to a sea where we couldn’t sail.

“You look fucking wasted there, Harry,” Louis laughed, his finger pointing to the screen--a picture of Harry and Liam with their arms around each other in a parking lot told me (based on the grin on Harry’s face both in the photo and in the present moment) that he likely was.

There were pictures of them in various airports--embarrassing photos of me asleep on a couch in Milwaukee, and even photographic evidence that I’d beaten Niall in a game of ping pong once in Madrid.

I watched as they all stared at the screen--and I couldn’t help but wonder if they ever had the same thoughts as me. Did they feel as suffocated? Did they wonder what it’d be like to quit or move or just not wake up?

Maybe they did--maybe they had their days where they wondered if this was all meant to be. But the hardest part was the fact that I knew I couldn’t ask. If I did--I might feel even more alone.

NOW - Day 1720

Nathan was sat at the board as my voice filled the headphones. I watched his face--wondering if he thought the vocal was good enough to keep.

He tapped his foot to the beat, the watch on his wrist (a gift from his wife in 2014 when we’d finished my last album) caught the light from the window as he shifted in his seat and sighed.

Making music felt good. It felt natural and normal and in a way, it felt healing. It felt comforting to reflect on the feelings that had once sat so heavy on my chest--even if they weren’t completely gone. Amanda said it was therapeutic--almost like retelling my story and reprocessing the memories, except this time, I knew the ending.

I knew that Harry was back and that I was okay and that now--even with the anxious feeling that was never too far away--I knew I could handle it.

My voice faded from the headphones in my ears--we’d only recorded a verse and the first chorus.

“I think that’s good,” he said, looking up at me. “Let’s do the second verse and see how we feel later tonight.”

I stood from my seat beside him, ready to head back into the booth.

“Did you tell Harry you’re here today?”

I turned around once I was inside, the glass window separating us as I reached for the new set of headphones to play my feedback. “Yeah--but, I don’t know what he thinks I’m recording.”

“What do you mean?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t think he knows that I’m recording stuff from back then.”

All of the songs we’d worked on so far--the titles written on post it’s that were now stuck to the wall--were my side of things. Maybe not as blatant, maybe not as literal and direct--but they were my version of the same story that Harry had already told.

And when I thought about it like that, I got angry. With Harry on the other side of the world for his promo and press tour and me in a studio in Calabasas, I felt like it wasn’t fair that he got to do it first.

Especially because his side of things didn’t exactly feel true.

I’d spoken with Amanda about how it all felt: the fact that I was the bad guy in his story and he was the one who was helpless and hopeless and had nowhere to turn.

Whether or not things felt okay between me and Harry--whether or not he was starting to call me lovie again and whether or not we were sleeping together, I couldn’t help but wonder if a part of him was angry and hurt and wanted me to pay for what I did.

“Are you gonna tell him?”

I sighed at that--I hadn’t moved beyond the thoughts of how do I communicate with someone I’m sleeping with but who doesn’t have the same label he used to have but is currently on the other side of the planet?

“I’ll tell him eventually. I mean--he’ll hear it eventually.”

Nathan let out a laugh, his lips pursing together as he nodded. “I mean--don’t dish it if you can’t take it, right?”

NOW - Day 1727

I guess it was Harry’s way of showing he was dedicated.

Hillary had an opening on a day that he wasn’t in town--in fact, he was in Barcelona in a hotel room sitting on a king-sized bed. But his face was on the screen of my laptop, situated next to me on the couch in Hillary’s office as she let out a laugh.

“Can you hear us? If you miss anything we say, just raise your hand.”

“Got it,” he smiled, the corners of his lips twitched upward as he looked from Hillary and then to me.

It’d be fine so far. Fine enough in the sense that I was keeping busy with Nathan and dodging the media, and Harry was busy doing everything in front of the media to promote the album. Amanda had suggested I tell him a bit more--tell him that there was a part of me that was angry about the album. A part of me that was tormented over the thought that he’d slept with someone else.

And most importantly, she said, that I tell him about my plans to release the songs I was working on with Nathan in the same studio where I’d recorded my album that won a Grammy for Album of the Year.

It’s not that the songs were harsh: they weren’t necessarily accusatory or spiteful or anything like that. Instead, they were honest. They told my version of 2015 and 2016 and Harry might not like it.

But did he have the right? Did he have the right to be upset about my side of the story if I had to grin and bear it about his? I didn’t say a thing. I didn’t tell him when I got DMs from people attacking me for breaking his heart. I didn’t let him know that I had bookmarked a few articles from the NYT and the Post about how his album seems to really put the nail in the coffin of our relationship.

Because after all, how could we salvage anything after he told the entire world how everything was my fault?

I knew I needed to tell him--I knew the good of our relationship rested on the assumption that we would be nothing but honest. Which, realistically, probably meant that I had a few things to come clean about. The songs. My feelings about his album. The stomachache I got when I opened my social media accounts--still with nothing new posted since 2015--to see messages and comments calling me an attention whore and a bitch and just about everything in between.

“So--how has the distance been so far?” Hillary asked, her eyes flicking between the both of us as she waited to see who would answer. Harry seemed quiet, his eyes insinuating (even through a computer screen) that he wanted me to talk first.

“Good, I guess. We’ve talked a fair amount.”

Hillary nodded, her eyes moving to the computer screen quickly.

“Yeah--” Harry shrugged. “Despite the time difference we’ve talked on the phone every day.”

“How are you both feeling about being apart?”

Again, Harry’s eyes were on me. I wondered--for a second--if there was a part of him that just wanted to hear all of my thoughts and feelings out of fear that he wouldn’t get access to them if we weren’t in this room.

“Uh--I kind of feel, like, stressed, I guess.” The words felt rocky--it felt new and strange to be speaking honestly in front of him.

“What feels stressful?” Hillary prompted me to say more--I shifted in the seat and looked over to Harry. I knew the drill--she was asking me to speak more directly to him and use ‘I’ statements.

“I feel like I got left behind while you’re out having fun doing all sorts of album stuff. I don’t know if that makes sense,” I said quickly, looking to Hillary for some reassurance.

His eyebrows dipped together in the center of his forehead, but he nodded--apparently urging me to continue.

I took a deep breath and bit at my lip before saying more. “I guess I’m a little angry that I got painted like the bad guy. I know I already said that and you’re just telling your side of it, but there’s been a lot of backlash.”

“Backlash?”

“Yes, Harry, backlash.”

He tugged at his lip and looked off screen for a second. “How so?”

“On social media and online and stuff,” I shrugged, a little annoyed that he was clueless. “People are just really going at it--a lot of your fans are angry at me for the way things went down.”

“Well--they don’t know the whole story.”

“But they think they do. They think your album is the whole story.”

He was quiet at this. Hillary leaned back in her chair and adjusted her ponytail. Apparently she was pleased with our communication, whether or not it was emotional.

“What are they saying?”

“That I’m a bitch and that I didn’t care about you. I mean--none of that is new, I knew they felt that way when we broke up. But I didn’t see it all. I wasn’t looking online.”

“So--should you not look?” He asked the question innocently enough, but it irked me as I brushed a strang of hair behind my ear.

“It’s not that simple, Harry.”

“Margot--I don’t know what to tell you. This is why I warned you--I wanted you to know it was coming and I wanted you to be prepared.”

“I know,” I said, suddenly feeling guilty for my emotions. I knew he did it to be nice--I knew that his good nature is the reason we were even here--in couples counseling like some kind of lifetime movie.

“You have to understand though that it’s hard to be silent right now when you’re out there in the spotlight telling a story that doesn’t feel true.”

“Margot,” Hillary interrupted, her eyes narrowed a bit. “I’m wondering if you could tell me how it feels to be stuck here--especially if you’re not getting to tell your side of things right now.”

I took a deep breath--Harry let out a sigh and I searched for the words in Hillary’s cozy office.

“I feel abandoned, sort of. I feel left behind and forgotten and I guess angry. And I feel like I’m in trouble for doing something wrong when I didn’t do anything.”

Harry’s face scrunched at that. Apparently he disagreed.

“Harry?” Hillary turned to the computer. “What’s it feel like to hear Margot say all of that.”

“S’confusing,” he shrugged. “I feel accused now, I guess. I didn’t abandon her or forget her. I’m just working. She--of all people--should know what that’s like.”

I rolled my eyes--annoyed at his passive aggressive tone.

Hillary tried again. “But do you feel any other way other than accused?”

He licked his lips and thought for a second. The hotel room was dark behind him--I wondered what time it was and what time he had to be awake. A feeling of appreciating washed over me. He wasn’t perfect. He certainly wasn’t flawless and completely free of blame--but at least he was trying.

And that gave me hope. Hope for the future of us and for the future of whatever it was between us. In this awkward stage post break-up, we moved like figurines, cracked and fragile and worried about the damage that could ensue with just a few words.

I couldn’t help but resent that, though. Because here, sitting in Hillary’s office, with Harry transported in through pixels and WiFi, he was ignoring the fact that he’d written an entire album about our the time we shared and the time we then tried to forget. He was sitting here as if he hadn’t put me on blast and opened up our story to the criticism of the whole world. Something about it felt unfair.

So sure--maybe I was angry. Maybe I was angry that I was stuck in California wondering what he did in Barcelona today--similarly to the last 18 months. Maybe I was angry because all of the polarized feelings felt rushed and fleeting and I didn’t really know what to do or say next in the neverending psychodrama of my relationship with Harry.

But I knew one thing for sure: if he got to tell his side of the story, I got to tell mine.

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