#EXTRA BIRTHDAY POST!! ITS HIS DAY!

[sapnapthinkr]

🧡 birthday boy 💙

[jkgnggj]

It's not finished in time for satori saturday but I can at least share the sketch for now. It's my next satori com ;3 by @lu-kario it'll hopefully be done soon and when it is imma post it huehue

[staraxiaa]

sunflowers

pairing: bakugou katuski x f! reader contains: childhood frenemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining status: standalone, one-shot, completed wc: 17840

note: canon-compliant but i bend it; early childhood and then up to season 3. also cross-posted to ao3.

summary: there you stand at the beginning of the world, with you and your sunflowers; your lovely liar's smile.

The first time you meet Bakugou Katsuki, you are six-turning-seven, and you remember it well. Not just because it’s the first day of school, or even that it’s your birthday. Rather, you remember it because of him, and though you think you would rather die than admit it, there is some part of you⏤ a more rational part⏤ that can temper itself down to acknowledge the fact.

You remember it well, because that morning, your mother makes sure to doll you up extra pretty. She dons you in a frilled dress like it is your armor, taking extra care with your hair, its bows, and she does: so much that there is an extra skip to your step as you walk. You don’t just feel pretty, you know you are; a work of art atop a work of art. But you still make sure to say your thank yous to all the unfamiliar faces that compliment you with gummy smiles and a not-so-quiet, conspiratorial grin. “It’s my birthday!” 

You remember the way your cheeks hurt from forcing the wideness of it, the way you think it has started to sound like a mantra. You remember smiling, nonetheless, at his friend, as he wishes you a happy birthday! in return⏤ you are smiling at his friend, and not him.

You remember it well, because the first time you ever meet him, he looks you up and down, clad in your careful curls and prettiest dress⏤ and dares to call you ugly. 

If you were anyone else, you might’ve taken the words like a physical blow. Already, your new friends are tensing for the inevitable confrontation. “You can’t just say that to her,” Sueko says, her eyes already narrowing in a glare.

“And who the hell are you, extra?” The crimson-eyed boy scowls right back. 

The other girl wilts a bit, but her glare remains set.

You decide, right there and then, that she is your new best friend. 

You smile. If you were anyone else, you might’ve taken the words like a physical blow. But you don’t just feel pretty, you know you are; a work of art atop a work of art. So you only give him your kindest smile, because your mother told you to play nice in the morning, as she brushed out your hair. You make sure to give him a once over, glancing down, and then up. 

“It’s okay!” Your eyes curve, ingratiatingly polite; ingratiatingly sweet. “Some people are just born blind. And stupid.”

“HAH?” His reaction is exactly what you hoped for, and it’s almost too easy. “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING⏤” 

The slight quirk of your mouth is amused, but you only turn, pointedly, to your new best friend. “Any chance you’re free this weekend? Let’s hang out.” 

She stutters an answer, eyes darting between you, and the blond you know is seething behind you, if the glare he’s practically boring into the back of your head means anything.

You tilt your head to the side. A little inquiry, a little push. “So?”

Hands slam down on your desk, cutting out her squeaked yes. You jump a little at the sound, your eyes widening⏤ both a little bit at the sound, and how close his face suddenly is. All of a sudden, you’re glad you didn’t call him ugly right back⏤ it would have sounded petty, after all, and almost certainly would have bit you right in the foot, considering how this crimson-eyed boy is so clearly not.

“I’m talking to you.” Well. You think, he’d probably be a great deal prettier if wasn’t glaring down at you, face contorted in what seems like half snarl, half scowl. 

His friend adds, a little bit placatingly. “Bakugou-san’s not stupid. He’s really smart, actually, always been top of the class. He’s really cool!” 

You note the way the class eyes him, the way the blond’s eyeing the door. He grunts. “I also have twenty-twenty vision.” His chin raises, arrogance in the set of his features, a bit calmer at the praise, but also a touch quieter, almost a bit wary. 

The door opens. He glances back, just as a man walks in, old enough that you assume that he is your teacher. 

It takes effort to keep the shit-eating grin from spreading across your features. “Are you sure?” You ask instead, completely straight-faced. ( You should really consider acting, you think. You’re practically a genius! ) You simper, a hand covering your mouth. “Could’ve fooled me.”  

It’s almost too easy, you think, the way he explodes, literally. 

“YOU WANNA FIGHT, EXTRA?” Miniature blasts pepper the table, and you might have thought it intimidating, if it’s not for the way your sensei is stalking over, looking almost as murderous as the boy himself. “I’LL KILL YOU!” 

You coo a little, fearless with the backing of your newfound supporter. “You’re really scary. That’s illegal, you know.” 

He opens his mouth. But then⏤ “Bakugou. Seeing as it’s the first day, you won’t be getting detention.” His mouth closes mutely. You grin a little at the way he’s being pulled away from your desk, fingers still clutching at the edges of it⏤ by the scruff of his collar, and somewhat like a dog, you think.

His eyes flash, a little bit angry, a little bit dangerous. He points one grubby finger in your direction. “She started it!” 

The sensei also pins you with a stern look. “The next time this happens, the both of you’ll be staying after class to clean, as detention. Am I clear?” 

You gape at both of them. It’s half genuine, half not. You think this verdict is a little unfair. The boy grins, smug.

A complaint is on the tip of your tongue, then you see the sensei’s expression:  deadpan, tired, and unsympathetic.  You sober up, frowning a little. 

“Okay. Sorry, sensei. I’ll try.” 

The crimson-eyed boy is still glaring at you, a little victorious, a little smug, but with a gleam in his eyes. This is war, they seem to say, silent and from across the room.

Little does he know, it has been, ever since the moment he decides to look you up and own, clad in your careful curls and prettiest dress⏤ and calls you ugly.

You blow him a kiss.

He jolts. The face he makes is obviously a frown of disgust. 

The sensei straightens. You smile ingratiatingly, turning away.

This is war, his eyes seem to promise, and really, you can’t help but agree. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Your revenge is served not even three days later, on a Saturday evening, and you think it is the sweetest thing you have ever tasted.

You have your father to thank for it, actually. The boy, whose name you learn is Bakugou Katsuki, is something of a mini celebrity at your school. 

This means that the surface level things are easy to find⏤ he has anger issues, an explosive Quirk, and is smart, consistently at the top of the class. ( You frown a little when they tell you. These are all things you already know, and the only new information⏤ he likes spicy food⏤ isn’t helpful in the slightest. ) But this also means that, knowing his temper, there are very few willing to actively take your side, and much more openly against you. You are the new girl, the outlier, and though he can’t quite make you an outcast⏤ you and your horde of girl-followers ( bought with your mother’s fashion, your father’s wallet, and your pure, sunny disposition )⏤ he has enough friends, or rather sycophants, that will ignore you in the hallways, or mutter names at you.

The boy in question doesn’t, though.

He storms up to your desk the second day. You are chatting with your friends, as he slams his hands on the desk and snarls: “Fight me.” 

Catching your pencil just before it falls, you frown up with him. “What ever happened to: hi, hello, how are you?” 

“Hi, hello, how are you.” He sneers. “Scared?” 

“No, and my answer is no.”

His scowl deepens. “So you are scared.” 

“I’m a healer.” You lift your chin in outrage, affronted. “I’m not violent.”

“Nah. You’re just an extra.” 

Internally, you seethe. First ugly, and now an extra. You have never been called such things in your life. You open your mouth, a retort on the tip of your tongue. 

The sensei walks in. 

It dies in your throat, Bakugou’s face splits into a shit-eating grin. He turns away, head held high; arrogant and condescending, having won this encounter by a mile. 

Wrath boils in your ears, but you tamp it down, expressionless. Your pencils are carefully aligned, your notebook opened with just a little more force than necessary. Internally, you promise yourself, he’ll get what’s coming to him. You will make sure of it. 

You get your chance soon enough on a Saturday evening, dolled up again in a dress your mother painstakingly picked out for you, your hair pressed into careful curls. Your father had told you: your family had been invited to dinner by a friend he’d met at work, and that they have a son in the same grade as you, in the same school. 

You had shrugged. So long as there’s a chance their son would be willing to join your Anti-Bakugou Society ( consisting only of you at the moment ), you don’t particularly mind.

“Play nice,” Your mother reminds you now, as you stand before the door; your father knocking on it. There is a bouquet of sunflowers clutched in your hands, matching the color of your dress, and you only scrunch your nose up a little at her. 

“I’m always nice.” 

Your mother doesn’t get a chance to respond, because then there’s a⏤ Katsuki, get the door!⏤ along with an answering⏤ “SHUT UP, OLD HAG! I’M GETTING IT!”⏤ and then, you blink.

The name sounds rather familiar. The voice, too. 

The door opens. You stare, wide-eyed, as a head of blond hair enters your vision, familiar and crimson-eyed.

He’s just as stunned as you are, as you watch, with no small amount of delight, as he takes one look at you, and then the sunflowers you hold in your hands, and sneezes. 

Christmas has come early, you think. “Katsuki! This is your house?” You step a little closer, a sickly sweet grin on your face. 

He dodges the sweep of your bouquet. A pity, you think, but you are successful: he only sneezes all the harder.

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you… by any chance allergic to sunflowers?” 

Your mother gasps, tearing the bouquet from your hands. She had been the one to pick them out.

He doesn’t need to respond for you to know the answer: as soon as they’re taken away from his immediate vicinity, his sneezes lessen.  

Your mother had been the one to pick them out, and you had disliked the way they looked. But you decide, there and in the moment, that they are your favorite flower. 

He straightens. His nose is still red, and there is murder in his eyes. “Why the hell are you here?” 

His mother sweeps in, pinching him by the ear. “You will not address our guests that way.” She hisses, before looking up at the three of you, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to teach him manners, I swear⏤”

“No worries at all, Bakugou-san.” Your mother says, correcting herself at the other woman’s oh, just call me Mitsuki! She pinches your ear in turn. “This one is much the same. A righteous demon, she is.” You narrow your eyes a little at her. 

The blonde laughs, and the way she ruffles her son’s hair is terribly fond. “That’s just part of their charm, I suppose.” 

He hisses up at her. She hisses right back. 

You love her, you think.

“Oh, where are my manners!” She straightens, blinking. “Please come in. Masaru’s in the kitchen, just setting up⏤”

Your parents walk in first, complimenting the decor. Mitsuki beams at them, and down at you. “Masaru tells me the two of you go to the same school,” She says. “Have the two of you met before?” 

You say: “Yes!” at the same time he gives a flat, but resounding, “No.” 

He glares daggers into the side of your head. You grin. “We’re in the same class, and he’s my best friend!” You exclaim, the lie rolling easily off your tongue.

“No the fuck I’m not.” 

“Language, Katsuki!” Mitsuki reaches for his ear again, her face the picture of delight. “I’m so happy you’re finally making friends!” 

“WE’RE NOT FRIENDS!” 

She gasps, affronted, looking like she wants to tear him a new one. You smile. Your parents look on, utterly lost. “It’s okay, Mitsuki-san. That’s just how Katsuki-kun shows his love. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, you angel.” And from the look on her face, one might have thought she truly believed it. She whips around to glare at her son. He glares back. “I don’t know how she puts up with you, but you’d better treat her well.” You grin at him from behind, terribly smug, and terribly victorious. 

She turns around, and your smile is pretty again, pleasant and soft.

Mitsuki coos at you. You think the dichotomy between the way she talks to the both of you is like heaven and earth. “Come over to our house more often. I’d love to have you over anytime!” 

“HAH? WHAT⏤” 

“We wouldn’t want to trouble you, Mitsuki-san.” Your mother says, assertively. She is shooting you the look, the one that means she knows what you’re up to. 

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all!” She dismisses the statement with a wave of her hand. “Katsuki has few enough friends as it is.” 

Your father laughs, ever the mediator. “We’ll have to invite you over next time as well. We live just down the street.” He brightens. “Actually, seeing as they’re classmates, they could maybe walk together in the mornings?” 

Your mother’s grip tightens around his arm. 

There is a wicked grin on your face. “I’d love that!”

The boy in question doesn’t even get the chance to protest, because Mitsuki’s already chirping. “It’s settled, then!” 

You think: it doesn’t even matter if he emerges victorious in all the encounters you have after this, because when the adults turn, you get to stick your tongue out at him.

The look on his face is so quietly violent, so blatantly murderous, as you wave your still sunflower-smeared hands in his face, that you think you will remember the sweetness of this victory for the rest of your life. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Your relationship does not change in the slightest after that.

Mitsuki invites you over to her house once a week, and your parents do the same. The adults do their own thing, and you do yours: trying your best to annoy the daylights out of your newfound nemesis, and he only does the same to you. You’ll make fun of his All Might merchandise, the ones displayed proudly in his room, and he’ll make fun of your Recovery Girl ones, the ones you have so painstakingly collected⏤ she’s not nearly as popular of a Hero. He’ll sneer: “So that’s why you used to kiss everyone you healed?” 

You’ll sneer right back, cringing internally at the reminder of that phase, though you are still Recovery Girl’s number one fan. “My Quirk’s literally activated through touch. You’d be lucky if I poked you with a ten-foot pole, let alone heal you with a kiss.” 

He’ll make a face. “Eugh. You wish, idiot. I’d never want to kiss an extra like you.” 

The two of you have learned to act relatively civil with adults in the house. You smile up at him, sickly sweet. “Yeah. This extra is an idiot, and she definitely didn’t score higher than you on the last history test.” 

By one point, but still. 

He snorts, though you can tell the reminder irks him. “That’s only ‘cause you sucked up to sensei like, three classes in a row.”

You sniff in derision.  “I did not.” Sure, it’s true: you’d definitely been a little more active in class, and answered more questions than usual, but you’d studied for it! You’d studied a lot!

He sneers back. “Did too.” 

You have learned to imitate the murderous glare he likes to level you with, and the first time you mimic it, you grin a little as his eyes widen, stunned.

The two of you are civil for the most part, though, at each other’s houses. His mother would tear him a new one if she heard him acting anything but⏤ ( she has )⏤ and you think you like his parents too much to ruin your relationship over something as trivial as this. 

School is a different story, however, as are your walks in the mornings. “Shut the fuck up,” He’ll snarl at you.

“But Katsuki-kun!” You’ll coo right back, using the tone you know he hates. “I haven’t even started talking yet!” 

He’ll scowl at you. You’ll simper right back. He’ll speed up, and you do not slow, nor do you attempt to match his pace, because you know: if you slow, he will too. Always keeping that same distance, and if you speed up⏤ well, you’d tried that once. And you’d kept pace with him for all of two seconds, before he’d sped up in turn, until the both of you were practically sprinting to school. 

You lose, of course. You have never run a day in your life.

( You start training right after. )

You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You flop on his bed, making sure to crinkle his carefully-pressed sheets, forcing him to his desk during one of your so-called ‘hangouts’ and ‘study sessions’⏤ Mitsuki’s words, not either of yours, but there are textbooks in front of the both of you, so that is good enough. You study harder than you ever have before, and rub every one of your small victories in his face, and he studies like a demon in return⏤ ( even though he’s never needed to study in his life )⏤ until the both of you are neck and neck, with perfect grades in every subject. You buy everything sunflower-colored, sunflower-shaped, and tack sunflower stickers onto every surface you can see, pinning some cute ones to your backpack.

( Your mother picked out the flowers, but you are the one that held them, and you were also the one to decide, there and then, that these were your favorite flowers in the world. )

You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You see his face more often than anything else, and he calls you an idiot when you tell him about the fictional boys you think are cute. Well, you don’t care. You tell him about them anyways, because you are bored and Kuroo-kun looked particularly stunning in the episode the other day⏤ only because you are bored and there is nothing else to do, or so you tell yourself. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ you don’t think you are, at least, because he has never confirmed it, even if he does seem somewhat tolerant of you; punches your pseudo-stalker in the face for you, and carries you piggyback on the way home, crying all the while. 

“You’re ruining my shirt,” He grouses. “Stop crying. I’m literally more injured than you are.” 

You sniff. “I’m not kissing you better.” 

He snarls. “Come anywhere near me with your mouth and I’ll blow your face off.” 

“You want it so bad it makes you look stupid.” You tell him, and he tenses beneath you, but you only press your cheek to his neck, and think, heal.

The pain of the bruises lances through you, and you feel the way he relaxes.

You droop. “Onwards, steed.” 

“I will literally drop you.” 

“I just healed you. I’m tired.” 

“No one fucking asked you to.” 

He doesn’t make good on his promise, though, and eventually, you sigh a little into his neck.

“What.” 

“Nothing.” 

“What, dumbass.” 

You hum, a little absentminded. “You’re going to UA, right?” 

“Yeah. Why?” 

“Oh, I was thinking of applying for the healer understudy openings.” You shrug. “Dunno if I can get in, though.” 

“You will.” His certainty surprises you. 

You smile. “Didn’t know you believed in me so much, Katsuki-kun.” Your head flops back onto his shoulder. “Will you still walk with me in the mornings, then?” 

“After school, too. Even if you don’t get in.” 

You shift to blink up at him in surprise. 

He clicks his tongue. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look this uncomfortable.

“Who the fuck else’s gonna punch shitty stalkers for you?”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt like this before, like the sun cresting upon the horizon, lighting up like a dawn inside your chest. You laugh at the feel of it. “Are you sure you woke up on the right side of the bed today? Besides, you don’t even know where I’d be going.” You reach up to pinch him on the cheek. 

He jerks away, the look on his face disgusted.

“Then I’ll teach you to fight.” 

You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ he is tolerant of you, he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, he walks with you before school, and he walks with you after. He lets you flop on his bed, lets you push him to the desk, wrinkles his nose at you when you tell him about a boy that was cute, and calls your friends dumb when you tell him about something they said that was funny. You weasel his birthday out of Mitsuki, and get him that All Might merch you know he’ll like. There’s some Recovery Girl merch left on your windowsill the day of yours. He laughs when you try a bite of his food for the first time and cough instantly after, your face aflame. What the hell is this? You hiss, and he grins, telling you it’s real food, and that you’re just weak. He never calls you his friend, but he believes in you and your dream, and promises to walk you to and from school anyways, even if you do not attend the same one. 

( That’s just how Katsuki-kun shows his love, you tell Mitsuki-san, once upon a time, and though you are not sure if it is love, you think: you do not mind it. )

This is how your relationship is, and how it remains, until the end of the second last year of middle school, right before the both of you enter UA.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You are asleep at your desk when you are jumpscared awake. 

“UA? That national school? Isn’t their acceptance rate really low?” Someone in your class is asking. 

“That’s exactly why you guys are just extras!” You roll your eyes as the ash-blond jumps straight atop his desk. “I aced the mock test! I’m the only one at this school who could possibly get into UA. I’ll definitely surpass All Might and become the top hero!” 

This is not the first time you’ve heard this tirade. Sueko nudges you, quietly. “Hey. Didn’t you say you were applying for one of their healer slots?” 

“Oh, yeah.” The sensei glances down at his list. “Midoriya wanted to go to UA as well, right? And someone else…” You tense.

The class bursts into uproarious laughter, and it seems you are temporarily saved. 

“Huh? Midoriya? No way! You can’t get into the Hero course by just studying!”

The green-haired boy stammers. “Th-they got rid of the rule! There’s just no precedent…” 

You roll your eyes at the sound of familiar explosions. “Huh? Deku! You’re below the rejects! You’re quirkless! How can you even stand in the same ring as me?”

“No, wait! Kacchan! It’s not like I’m trying to compete with you or anything! Believe me!” He falters “It’s just that it’s been my goal ever since I was little! I won’t know unless I try…”   

“What do you mean, unless you try? You’re Quirkless!” 

You slam your textbook down with a little more force than usual, and the whole class turns to you in surprise. “He has a dream that he dares to try for,” you say, coolly and careful. “Isn’t that enough?” 

“And what the hell would you know about that?” 

Disbelief rushes through you, and you turn to look him squarely in the eye. The class tenses, and his own eyes widen. It has been a while since you’ve challenged him like this directly, whether in school or otherwise. 

Sueko pipes up, unhelpfully, from beside you, as if he wouldn’t know. “She’s also applying for UA.” 

You don’t get the chance to glare at her, because your sensei continues the thought. “Oh, yes, that’s right! You were the last student applying to UA! The healer routes are notoriously difficult⏤ how’s that coming along?” 

“Ah, I applied to some hospitals for volunteering, but I don’t know if they accept middle-schoolers,” You laugh. 

Your sensei nods, in support, but also a little condescendingly. “Well, it’s also a very difficult path, so don’t beat yourself up about it too much, yeah?” 

The smile on your face feels a little bit painful, a little bit stretched. 

You are distracted for the rest of that day. So out of it, in fact, that when the sensei calls upon you, his favorite student, you take all of five seconds to respond⏤ blinking, first, then glancing up, with a: “Sorry, what was the question?” You are so out of it that you bump your hip into your own desk as you move past for lunch, wincing at the twinge of it, and you are so out of it that you forget your pencil case when you leave after class, and have to go back to get it.

“Believe that you’ll be born with a Quirk in your next life, and take a last chance dive off the roof!” 

You know that voice. You pause. But then, the blast of familiar explosions. 

Before your hands, the door slams open. 

You don’t know what you were expecting. Bakugou and Midoriya both, obviously, and you suppose you should have known his two lackeys would have been there, too. They turn from their face-off, and your glare is sharp and terrible. “So what if he’s Quirkless?” You snap, storming over to grab the green-haired boy by the wrist. “At least he has a dream. At least he dares to try. That’s more than I can say for the two of you.” 

“Stay out of this,” The blond snarls, a warning. 

You are not entirely a good person. You lie as you please, wielding the power of your mother’s fashion, your father’s wallet, and do things entirely for your own amusement, uncaring of the aftermath. You know Midoriya, or rather, you know of him, and how he is a frequent target of Bakugou’s scathing remarks. At first, you had assumed he’d just been one of the people that disliked you, but it had become increasingly evident that he was just one of the people that didn’t dare to brave the blond’s wrath. And you are not entirely a good person, because you just didn’t care. Not to talk to him, not to stand up for him, not if he hadn’t even tried to for you.

You are not entirely a good person yourself, but even so, you know that there are lines that should not be crossed. 

You lift your chin, and say, quietly. “Apologize.” 

“Hah?” He tilts his head. “And why the hell should I? Why the hell are you defending him?” 

You feel incredulous. “What does that have anything to do with it?” You don’t see the way his eyes flicker down to where you are holding the green-haired boy, by his wrist. “There are things that you should never, ever, say to a person.” His eyes narrow, but there’s an irrational anger within you, a disbelief. “You’re literally trying to become a Hero. How can you, an applicant of UA, who hopes to become one of the best heroes in the world, tell someone to kill themselves, and not think there’s anything wrong with it?” 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Little explosions are escaping his hands, in the uncontrolled way they do when he’s furious and unaware of them. 

You think Midoriya makes a pained sound, what with the way your hands are clenching, angry and white. Heal. A sting pulses through you, and you drop his wrist, but your eyes are flashing. “You’re being an ass. Apologize.”

“You don’t tell me what to do.” 

You lift your chin. “If you value our friendship in the slightest, then yes, I do.” The vehemence of your words stuns you a bit, and the blond recoils, as if he has been physically struck. 

You think you have won, for all of a moment, and then he scoffs.

“Yeah, right. What friendship? The one you lied to my mom about and said that we had? That friendship? The one that doesn’t exist? Won’t exist?” 

His sneer is not harsh, but the breath that leaves you is shaky.

You do not hear his next words.

( You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You flop on his bed, making sure to crinkle his carefully-pressed sheets, forcing him to his desk during one of your so-called ‘hangouts’ and ‘study sessions’⏤ Mitsuki’s words, not either of yours, but there are textbooks in front of the both of you, so that is good enough. You study harder than you ever have before, and rub every one of your small victories in his face, and he studies like a demon in return⏤ ( even though he’s never needed to study in his life )⏤ until the both of you are neck and neck, with perfect grades in every subject. You buy everything sunflower-colored, sunflower-shaped, and tack sunflower stickers onto every surface you can see, pinning some cute ones to your backpack. You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You see his face more often than anything else, and he calls you an idiot when you tell him about the fictional boys you think are cute. Well, you don’t care. You tell him about them anyways, because you are bored and Kuroo-kun looked particularly nice in the episode the other day⏤ only because you are bored and there is nothing else to do, or so you tell yourself. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ you don’t think you are, at least, because he has never confirmed it, even if he does seem somewhat tolerant of you; punches your pseudo-stalker in the face for you, and carries you piggyback on the way home, crying all the while. You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ he is tolerant of you, he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, he walks with you before school, and he walks with you after. He lets you flop on his bed, lets you push him to the desk, wrinkles his nose at you when you tell him about a boy that was cute, and calls your friends dumb when you tell him about something they said that was funny. You weasel his birthday out of Mitsuki, and get him that All Might merch you know he’ll like, and there’s some Recovery Girl merch left on your windowsill the day of yours. He laughs when you try a bite of his food for the first time and cough instantly after, your face aflame. What the hell is this? You hiss, and he grins, telling you it’s real food, and that you’re just weak. He never calls you his friend, but he believes in you and your dream, and promises to walk you to and from school anyways, even if you do not attend the same one.  )

This is how Katsuki-kun shows his love, you say to Mitsuki-san once upon a time, but now, you know, because you have learned to read between the lines of his words; to understand him: that this is just how he treats liars who worm their way into his world, and how he tolerates them.

Your lip wobbles. There is a lump in your throat. But you will not cry for him, nor will you plead. Play nice, your mother chastises you once upon a time, because you are a willful child, vindictive in both your action and your speech, and petty enough to hold onto your grudges. She chastises you once upon a time, because you do not particularly care to cater to the feelings of those around you unless you feel like it; do not care to stand up for a boy who has done nothing to you, just because he has done nothing for you.

You are petty, yes. Vindictive, too. You may not be that much of a good person, and you are not without your own feelings, hypocritical as that may be. But you are trying, and you are genuine, or at least as much as you can be, as much as you ever have, and he⏤ he has just thrown all of that in your face. 

“Fine, then.” You smile, and you are unfeeling as you lie. “I’ve never thought of you as a friend, either. Don’t talk to me again.” 

The door slams behind you.

You do not hear his next words, so you do not hear him mean: not while you choose him, and not me.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Katsuki is six-turning seven the first time he meets you. 

It is the first day of school. You are seated at your desk, a crowd of adoring sycophants around you. “Happy birthday! You look really pretty today,” His friend says from beside him, and he looks you up and down. You are wearing a sky-blue dress, with your hair pressed into careful curls.

His cheeks warm. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, but he only grunts, looking away to the side. “Dunno. She looks pretty ugly to me.” 

“You can’t just say that to her,” Your friend hisses. He doesn’t know her face. 

He scowls at her. “And who the heck are you, extra?” 

She wilts under the force of his glare, and he feels a little better, as if satisfied.

“It’s okay!” You smile. He blinks. Maybe he should call you ugly more often.

And then you call him stupid. And blind.

And the rest is history. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The results of your hospital volunteer application are sent back the next week, and the first thing you think of, somewhat bitterly, is that at least now, you have a proper excuse for skipping out on your weekly dinners. 

You have already skipped out on the first, pretending you feel sick. 

Your phone is still silent. You have not talked to him since that day, not even to check up on him when you see the news, though your fingers itch to. You think of sunflowers: how you didn’t even like them, until him. You think of how your bag now feels empty without its signature pins, how you have thrown every scrap of yellow clothing into a pile in your closet, your sunflower-themed charms and notebooks tucked away. 

Proof of life comes from your mother, and you do not turn on your phone. 

You break your silence two days later, pushing your vegetables somewhat morosely around your plate. “My volunteer application was accepted. They’re letting me intern at the hospital.” 

Your father beams. “That’s great news! You should’ve told us earlier! Honey, we have to eat out to celebrate! Oh, I need to tell Masaru⏤” 

“I won’t be going to weekly dinners for the rest of the summer,” You cut in. Your mother’s chopsticks pause midair. 

Your father blinks at you. “Surely the hospital isn’t making its interns work that much.” 

“Well, I’m applying to UA.” You shrug. That much is true, but it’s also just so you can fill in your hours, work yourself down to the bone. “I’d like as much experience as possible.” 

Your mother is watching you carefully. 

Your father clears his throat. “Well, don’t work yourself too hard.” He says, jokingly, as he dishes another helping of food upon your plate. “You tell us if they’re giving you any trouble, alright?” 

You force yourself to smile back. “‘Course, dad.” 

( Your mother asks you, a week later, when you arrive home from your internship. “Are you still friends with him?” She has asked you a similar question once, years ago and late in the evening, at the end of the dinner party, your father drunken and half-leaning on her shoulder.

You give her the same answer you did then, and in the same way. Cheery, and without a hint of hesitation. “Nope!” 

She is watching you carefully. 

You excuse yourself, and she does not ask you about it again. )

It feels like the days never end, and yet summer passes by before you can blink. You banish all thoughts of blond hair and crimson eyes entirely from your mind, and truthfully, you do not have the mind to think of him much, anyways. You steal the pain of your patients and make it your own, smiling at the brightness of their faces as you heal one, then two, then several more. It tires you terribly so, and between your time at the hospital and pre-studying for the UA exams, you’re so fatigued each night that you fall asleep before your head even hits the pillow. You don’t even have the time to meet up with your friends. And before you know it, the last year of middle school is upon you, as are the start of your applications. 

It is a whirlwind of things to do, so much that you feel you do not have the time to breathe, or even think. Katsuki’s been placed in a different class from yours, which comes as a relief in more ways than one⏤ firstly, that you don’t have to see him, and secondly, because you can let your grades fall just a little, and still come out as top of your class. Between your intern shifts, your mindless studying, the applications, the tests and quizzes and preparing endlessly for interviews, the thoughts of anything else vanish entirely from your mind. You do not feel the emptiness of your afternoons, nor much of your mornings. 

About two months in, Midoriya Izuku is the one to seek you out. 

There is a spoonful of rice halfway to your mouth, a textbook in your other hand. You notice him when a shadow falls over it, blotting the light out. You glance up, drawling. “Yes?” 

“Can I… talk to you for a moment?” He ventures, nervously, a tray gripped in his hands. 

You eye him a little strangely. 

You haven’t seen him since four months ago⏤ you haven’t really been paying much attention, and even the reminder sets your walls of iron slamming up. He’d been shorter then, you think, and significantly more hesitant. The boy from back then would never have even dared think about approaching you like this.

He flusters. “I-I just! Another time is also okay, or if you don’t want to, that’s also okay⏤” 

There he is, you think, a touch amused. “Can it be said here?” 

Beside you, Sueko’s jaw drops. You can feel the stares of your friends boring into the side of your face.

“Y-yes?” 

“Then make it quick.” You flip the page of your textbook. 

He hesitates. “Is it really okay…? For me to sit here?” 

Your eyebrow arches, high. “Since when have you been unable to sit where you like?” 

Mutely, he sets his tray down, and sits. 

You only flip another page. “You can either eat or talk.” You say, conversationally. “Lunch won’t last all day.” 

Obediently, he takes a spoonful of rice, and swallows. “I just… wanted to thank you.” He begins.

You know exactly what he is talking about, and your throat tightens. ( You think of your backpack, how empty it feels, but your refusal to tack on your sunflower pins anyway. ) You shrug. “No need to thank me. I didn’t do it for you.”

“Even so,” Midoriya perks up a bit. “N-no one’s ever stood up for me like that before, and especially not to Kacchan… I-I’m really grateful, either way!” 

You snort a little. Never would you have thought Midoriya Izuku, of all people, would stand here one day, thanking you. 

“I think you’re a really good person,” He says to you, a little bit hesitant. It jolts you a bit, the genuine honesty of his tone, but what you are not prepared for is what comes after. “And I know Kacchan does, too.” 

Your spoon stops halfway to your mouth.

“He still cares about you,” Midoriya says, a touch softer. Your friends are not looking at you, but you can still feel the weight of their gazes, their ears.

You say as you set your spoon down. “If you want to be friends with me, then you will never speak of him again.” 

Midoriya watches you carefully, notes the finality in your tone. His gaze rises to a point above your shoulder.

He flinches.

He does not speak of what he sees, or of this conversation, ever again. 

You do not turn, and you do not ask.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The week of UA acceptances arrive, and you await your own with bated breath. 

Your father laughs as you run out exactly at eight every morning to check, before he finally deigns to tell you that the postman usually delivers to your house around twelve. “I knew that!” You say, and he laughs at the obvious lie.

You stick your tongue out at him, but you still sneak out the next day at the same time, just in case. 

But as it turns out, the postman is late. You know this, because Midoriya texts you late in the evening, after dinnertime, with his signature All Might emoji and a brief: check your mailbox!!!!!

You stop, your heart in your throat. You don’t think you are breathing. 

He’s still typing, spamming your text messages with a thousand All Might emojis, each of them more despairing than the last. You do not know what this means. And then, you see his next message: I got in!!!!! 

It turns out that you are not, in fact, breathing.

You feel like you are holding your breath the whole time you’re fumbling through your mailbox, dropping random letters haphazardly onto your doorstep. That one looks like it’s important, you think, distantly, and it gets dropped somewhere onto the growing pile at your right, scanning them all for a familiar logo, and⏤ you see it at the very bottom of the pile.

You thumb it open with shaking hands. Congratulations, it reads, and you scream.

( You think for one moment of sunflowers, how you can imagine exactly how he’d react, hear exactly what he’d say. )

Your father pokes his head around the corner. “I heard screaming. Everything alright?” 

Your mother is smiling. “Mitsuki just called. Katsuki’s in.” 

Your father is looking at you with wide eyes. You are grinning, there are tears in your eyes, and you are wordless in your delight. 

Your mother laughs, soft. “I suppose two congratulations are in order.” 

“Midoriya also made it, so make that three.” You correct, grinning. 

Your father whoops. “THAT’S MY GIRL!” For the first time in almost a year, you feel light as a feather, like the world is spread wide before you, and you are a young god before it, your wings wide and at the ready. 

For the first time in almost a year, you think, for one moment of sunflowers, how you can imagine exactly how he’d react, hear exactly what he’d say. You think of reaching for your phone⏤ ( and if you did, you’d see his icon that you’d purposefully wiped blank bubbling )⏤ but you don’t. You think of a boy with blond hair and crimson eyes that you have not looked at in almost a year, how you’ll brush past him in the halls, surrounded by your gaggle of friends, your uniform and makeup, your armor, and try not to note how he’s grown taller. For the first time in over a year, you think of him, and your heart does not feel like an empty cavity in your chest; you do not feel so hollow, nor do you ache.

Your heart only squeezes, a little tight, but. 

You think you will be fine.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You are delusional. You are not, in fact, fine. 

You are standing in front of the classroom door. It spells the code of your class: 1A, in bold lettering, proportions inhumanly large. You are three minutes late, but it’s really not your fault⏤ you’d simply fangirled so hard over the fact that you’re finally getting to meet your idol in person last night that you’d barely gotten any sleep, and your mother had had to haul you practically out of bed and out the door, throughout the whole of your alarm. 

You slide open the door. Instantly, you’re met with a sea of faces, and you steel yourself⏤ but then. 

For the first time in over a year, you see him, and all of a sudden, you are painfully aware of the lack of yellow on your figure; your backpack entirely empty of its signature sunflower pins. 

The smile is frozen on your face, and he looks just as shocked as you feel. 

A voice drawls at your side. “You must be the healer,” You are glad for the distraction; the source a scraggly-haired man halfway through removing himself from a sleeping bag. Your sensei, you deduce. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, sensei!” You bow. “I overslept because I was fangirling too hard over meeting Recovery Girl today! I promise it won’t happen again!” 

A wave of soft laughter ripples through the class, and over the din, you hear a⏤ she’s kinda cute!⏤ at the same time as a⏤ oh, I love her already. 

“If I get hurt, will I get to see you?” A voice calls, and you turn to see a boy⏤ blond, and your heart stutters for a moment, but his shade isn’t ash, it’s golden. He’s grinning cheekily up at you. 

“No flirting in my class.” Your sensei warns. “But yes, seeing as she’s 1A’s healer understudy.” He turns to you. “Recovery Girl’s waiting for you in her office. You know where it is?” 

You nod cheerily. “Sir, yes, sir!” 

“Good.” You turn at the obvious dismissal, shooting a wave at your green-haired friend as you do. 

You leave the classroom with your shoulders set, your chin tilted high, your outfit your armor, and your makeup your helm.

You pretend like you do not feel the crimson glare that seems like it’s trying to pierce through the back of your neck. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Recovery Girl likes you, and you feel as if you are floating for the whole of a day. Not even meeting Bakugou’s gaze the next morning can knock you from it, nor can the grape-haired boy’s leering from across the room. You can’t really dwell on them for long, either, not with the crowd of people aggregating by your desk. You blink up a little, surprised.

It’s not like you’ve made an effort to dress up especially pretty today, and you don’t think you’ve come off as incessantly nice. You are not the you from first grade anymore⏤ you don’t just think yourself pretty, you know you are⏤ but are confident enough in your own skin that you have stopped putting on airs; have allowed yourself to be as cold and sarcastic and dry as you want. Most of your girl-followers⏤ ( the ones you buy with your mother’s fashion, your father’s wallet, and your pure, sunny disposition )⏤ have only seen glimpses of you like this, and you can count on one hand the people outside of your parents who know you as you are. 

Sueko, Midoriya, and of course, him. 

You do not dwell on it for long. You are confident in your own skin, and though you would like some more friends, you do not wish to temper yourself to gain them.

You smile a little at the question the purple-haired boy asks, disliking the way his eyes are lingering at your chest. “You’re all welcome to drop by the clinic anytime you like. It’s what we’re here for, after all. Though, if you want a kiss to make you feel better,” 

You pause a little bit for dramatic effect watching the eyes of several boys brighten just a bit.

“You’ll have to go to Recovery Girl.” 

Your straight face is very well-practiced, but you do not hide the small quirk of your mouth as you watch their souls die. 

An arm slings around your shoulder, its pink-skinned, pink-haired owner grinning at you. “I think we’re going to be best friends, you and I.” 

You remember thinking the same thing about a different girl, when you are six-turning seven, and you hear the same genuinity behind it.

( You are clad in your outfit like armor, your makeup a helm. Today, you are exactly as cold and sarcastic and dry as you like, because you are confident in your own skin, and you do not temper yourself in the slightest. )

You smile up at her. “I think I’d like that!” 

Her grin widens, but then, an older Hero walks in⏤ Cementoss, you think. You have made an effort to memorize the roster. “To your seats, everyone.” He calls. 

You take out your notebook, neatly arranging your pens. New year, new you. You don’t have as many shifts at the hospital anymore⏤ you don’t need the experience exactly, as you’re sure UA will look good enough on your resume, but it can’t hurt. Besides, you enjoy working there anyways; the older nurses who help you out with a kind smile, the doctors who are almost always willing to answer a question. But the lessened shifts allow you to breathe, just a little, to settle back into a healthier routine; one no longer so bogged down by your thoughts. 

Math transitions quickly into English. You think you prefer Cementoss’s teaching style just a little, even if Present Mic is more energetic⏤ a little bit too loud for your tastes, you think. The material is basic, seeing as it’s the unofficial first day of class, and though you’ve already pre-studied most of the content, you end up writing most of it down, anyways. 

Lunchtime arrives. You balance your tray on your hands, walking side-by-side with Mina. Midoriya waves at you from his table, surrounded by an assortment of friends, and you nod back. “Let’s sit there!” The pink-haired girl points excitedly at a particular table. 

You see several boys from your class, some more familiar than the rest. A head of ash blonde, crimson eyes that glance up to meet your own. 

“Midoriya wanted me to sit with him today,” You say, a touch apologetic. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?” 

Her eyes widen a bit, and you note the glance, the observance. Her own smile is your mirror, just as apologetic, and just as assertive. “Maybe another time,” She says.

She knows what she wants, and she’s not afraid to say it. You like that about her. 

You incline your head, eyelid pulling down in a wink. “Do let me know which one you like,” 

She only laughs at you, her answering grin somewhat sly. 

All Might steps into the room after lunch, and though you’ve never been one of his particularly die-hard fans⏤ you think of your sunflowers, how you make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours⏤ you can admit that in person, he stands a legend in real life. You are just a little starstruck, you think, as he smiles at you, and says⏤ “Do try to keep your injuries to a minimum, though not to worry! Our healer team will be here to assist you!” 

You find yourself grinning a little as you respond, “Nothing fatal, though. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything about anyone bringing a dead person back to life.” 

He booms a laugh. “Naturally! You are all Heroes! You should refrain from using lethal power whenever possible!” 

He speaks too soon. The first teams are called up, and the matchup is almost comical. 

Bakugou will be fine. You know this. You are not worried for him in the slightest⏤ not that you would, you tell yourself, a touch sardonically.

No. What you worry for is the state of your Quirkless friend, and you are right to worry. Bakugou seems almost angrier than you’ve ever seen him, and that’s saying a lot, considering how good you are⏤ how good you used to be, you correct yourself⏤ at getting on his nerves, though Midoriya seems to be holding up very well. 

Your friend has grown, you think. He is not at all the same person he was over a year ago in that classroom. 

But you are right to worry, because All Might is shouting into his microphone. “Young Bakugou, stop! Are you trying to kill him?” 

No, you think, immediately, instinctively. You know Bakugou is many things, but he is not that. Never that.

You feel the force of that explosion from here. “This is supposed to be a class!” One of your classmates, red-haired and red-eyed, is saying. “You have to stop him!” 

“He knows what he’s doing.” You find yourself saying. Somewhat cold, somewhat callous. There are eyes on you, surprised.

You shrug.

You don’t really know why you say it, either. 

“Young Bakugou, the next time you use that, I’ll stop the fight, and your team will lose. To attack on such a large scale inside is inviting the destruction of the very stronghold you are supposed to be protecting. That is a foolish plan for both heroes and villains, and you will lose a lot of points!” 

You don’t need to look at him to feel his teeth gnash in anger, but you still watch the screen, anyways. 

Their clash is violent. You remember saying, once, that you dislike violence because you are a healer. But that is not entirely true, you think: you see the passion in their every movement, even as your green-haired friend receives the brunt of the beating, the callous elegance of it. The careful calculations, the years of training that you have walked alongside most of to witness. 

“This looks bad!” One of the classmates from before seems to shout. “Sensei!” 

You don’t dislike violence just because you are a healer. What you have always disliked is the senseless brutality of it, the cruelty of its aftermath. Not because you have to deal with it, but because sometimes, you can’t. 

You look to All Might. He seems to be struggling with something. 

“So long as it is not fatal,” Your voice is soft, but no less firm. “I can heal it.” 

His mouth tightens, but you see his decision made in that moment. 

You turn your attention back to the screen just in time to see Midoriya’s Quirk. Your eyes widen. It’s so sudden, so powerful, that you almost miss it; the blast entirely different from Bakugou’s own. So he was not Quirkless after all, you think, but all thought of that vanishes when you see the aftermath. 

All Might is turning for you, but you are already running. 

You see the two you are unfamiliar with first. “How is she?” You ask the blue-haired boy who stands upright. 

“I’m fine!” She gasps out. “Just nauseous! But Deku⏤” 

You hear the nickname, and you think you look a little strangely at her for it. You don’t dwell on it very long, though, because you’re already slipping past. 

Then, you see him, and though your heart stutters a little in your chest⏤ ( your bag, empty of its sunflowers )⏤ you still look him in the eye. You are professional. “Are you hurt?” You ask, because he is standing there, still gaping, a little open-mouthed. 

He turns that look upon you, and his eyes widen. 

The eye contact feels slightly unsettling. You look away first. “Well. If you are, you can let me know.” 

You kneel at the green-haired boy’s side. 

A hand stops you, just as you reach out. They’re a little bit bigger than what you’re used to, a little bit more callused. “Wait,” He says, voice raspy, and you tense a little: both at the familiar and unfamiliar touch, and because it’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice. “You don’t have to⏤” He scowls, cursing. “Recovery Girl.”

You blink up at him, a little confused. 

But then you see his eyes dart towards your arm, and then the green-haired boy’s, lying prone on the ground. 

“I am a healer. It’s what I do.” 

“That’s not what I⏤” He curses again under his breath. “The damn nerd will be fine. Does he even know about your Quirk?” 

“Why would that even matter?” You are confused, and you shove his arm away. Your friend is still hurt, and he is keeping you from your job. Why do you even care? You want to say.

You bite your tongue, and think: heal. 

Midoriya blinks awake halfway through. Your arm is covered in purple contusions, and he gasps, jerking away. “You⏤ your arm!” 

They fade within seconds. You only reach again for it, feeling the crimson gaze burning into the side of your face, as you’re sure the rest of the class is too, from their camera screens hundreds of meters away. You stare straight ahead, and think, heal, even as your arm ripples in agony again, painted and purple. 

You steal your patient’s pain, and you feel all of it, but you don’t show a thing. Because you are a healer, and that’s what you do. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You are a healer, and that’s what you do, but the next day, Aizawa-sensei still admonishes you for it. 

“Your records are very impressive,” He tells you first, and you straighten. You figure: he is likely a man notorious for his lack of praise, so you might as well lap it up while you can. “However, just because you have a very high pain tolerance, does not mean you do not feel pain. Am I correct?” 

“Yes, sensei.” You dip your head. 

“The lot of you hear that, right?” He addresses the rest of the class. “She’s a healer, and she can heal almost anything, save those who are already dead. That’s very impressive, and it’s very rare. Don’t let her become your crutch. She will not always be there, and though she might say she doesn’t mind your burden, others will. Whether it’s yourself, your fellow Pro Heroes, or the civilians you are trying to save.” 

There is murmured assent from the class. 

He turns back to you. “Heroism is also about knowing when to step back and let others handle the situation. It is okay to share your burdens,” He tells you. 

You blink a little, surprised at the comments that are not really criticism at all. “I am a healer,” You state. “It’s what I do.” 

He sighs. “You’re just as stubborn as your mentor,” He says. 

You smile at this, chirping. “Thank you!”

“That was not a compliment.” 

You sink into your chair a little sheepishly, but it’s like a sun has been lit in your chest, because you take it as one anyways, and you are grinning. 

Lunchtime is a little strange today, for more reasons than one. Mina invites you again, but she doesn’t protest your decision, a knowing glint in her eye. But she doesn’t mention a thing, and you are grateful for it. 

Midoriya is sitting with the same people as yesterday, and he beams, delighted, as you slide into the seat beside him. Iida and Uraraka nod at you from across the table, and you nod back. 

Surprisingly, it’s the red-and-white haired boy across from you⏤ Todoroki, who breaks the silence. “My father says he would like to meet you.” 

You blink. That’s certainly not what you were expecting. “Endeavour, right?” 

He nods, his face deadpan. “Please decline.” 

You choke a little bit on the bite of food that has just entered your mouth. Midoriya slides you a napkin. 

You cough around it. “Wow, Todoroki-san. You really dislike me that much?” 

He shoots you a strange look. “Not at all. Why do you ask?” 

You’re a little confused. “Oh, that was a joke.”

“Apologies. I have never been very good with jokes.” 

“Nothing to apologize for, and I was planning on declining, anyways. I’m going to intern under Recovery Girl for the rest of my life!” 

“I will communicate that to him, then.” 

Midoriya coughs lightly from your other side. You elbow him. 

Uraraka giggles, but whatever she is going to say is cut off by the sound of the alarm. There has been a level three security breach, you hear. 

“Trespassing,” You hear someone clarify. 

You stare at the horde of gray-uniformed students crowding the hallway. You have never been a huge fan of crowds, especially ones as tightly-packed as this. Besides, you think, a touch dryly, that if there were an intruder, walking headfirst into a mosh pit like this would probably be the best way to get yourself caught up in a mass murder. 

But you don’t get to voice any of these concerns, because then Uraraka is tugging at your wrist. “If we don’t get ourselves in there now, we’re never going to get our way out! Come on!” 

You fall, weightless, and are carried away upon the sea.

It’s horrible. Internally, you curse the girl, and almost don’t even feel bad about it because yes, she’s like the sweetest person you’ve ever known, but she’s also reason you’re in the midst of a thousand wayward bodies right now, wrinkling your nose at the reek, and practically fighting for your life to keep your head above the throng. You are a healer, you think, a little despairingly, as you elbow someone so harshly that your own limb twinges. You are fighting a desperate battle, but nonetheless a losing one⏤ at least you are, until hands lift you by the waist and carry you forth; your savior cutting his way through the crowd with ease.

Your back hits the wall, and gratitude is on the tip of your tongue as you look up, but then you see him: ash-blond, and glaring at you with crimson eyes. “The hell were you thinking?” He hisses. “You don’t even like crowds.” 

You hate the familiarity in the way he says it, as if he still knows you, and you hate the way he cages you in against the wall, his body larger than you have known, but how it still feels the same, pressed up against yours.

( You think of your sunflowers, how your bag feels strangely empty without them. )

It is the nearest he has been to you in well over a year. You hate the way he smells, like burnt caramel, and you hate the way your cheeks warm. 

You want to say: neither do you, and you want to ask him why he even bothered to try and save you. You know he doesn't like you, not even in the slightest, not this liar who has wormed their way into his world; this liar that he tolerates. You think of a thousand witty remarks, ones that used to make his eyes light, the curl of his scowl somewhat harsh, but no less familiar, of giving voice to your outrage, to your feelings, and simply storming past. 

You choose none of the above. 

You still your features, the picture of calm, set the steel of your shoulders, and stare straight at a point above his shoulder. “Why do you even care?” 

You do not look at him, so you don’t see the way he recoils, ever-slightly. The expression he levels you, half-bewildered, half-disbelieving, the rest a complicated mix of emotions even he could not decipher himself.

You don't see the way he opens his mouth, because then Iida is there and shouting. 

You see your chance, and you don’t wait for his answer. You weren’t expecting one, anyways. 

He doesn’t even have the time to reach for you, before you slip past, and are gone. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You stand before the mouth of USJ, your heart in your throat. 

You barely notice the weight of the device upon your wrist; a monitor that connects you to all the ones distributed amongst the class, because there are villains down there, you think, a little dumbfoundedly. Real villains, like the type you see in movies, and you feel almost ridiculous, out of place, as if someone will smack you upside the head and tell you: wake up! and that you are not in a story. And you are not, because you pinch yourself, and yes, this is real life. 

You have never seen a villain yourself before, because you are a healer, and have only ever dealt with the aftermath of what they have done. You know the damage, the pain, the torture it can inflict upon a soul; the way sometimes, no one can ever fully heal them afterwards, not even you. So though you are a little wide-eyed, your thoughts blank, when the mist wraps around you, you don’t even think. 

You lunge. 

Crimson eyes widen, and he catches you, just one second before you fall into darkness as one. 

You try not to think about the way his body feels against yours, how he is cradling you, the way his hand automatically wraps around the back of your head. You feel the impact in your bones, though he bears the brunt of it. Automatically, you reach up, and think, heal, but you don’t have the time to do much else, because then his eyes widen, and he’s shoving you away. 

“STAY THERE!” Distantly, you think he is roaring at you, and another time, you might have protested that you could defend yourself. But the shock of it all is still settling in⏤ ( these are real villains, you think dazedly, and this is real life )⏤ and you are a healer, right now, you are nothing more than a civilian. 

In the aftermath, you still stand, dazed. Bakugou and another red-haired guy from your class are panting, smoke curling from your familiar ash-blond’s figure, and you register, like the world is separated from you by a film: it’s over. 

“Oi.” There are palms cupping your face, and you blink a little, startled, as crimson eyes boring into yours. “You hurt anywhere?” 

No, you think, a little too stunned to speak; the harshness of his tone at odds with the gentle manner of his touch. But then you see a hint of blood trickling down the side of his cheek.

As if on instinct, you reach out for him. He jerks away.

Wow, you think, the lump rising to your throat instantly. You had not known he hated you this much, to the point that he is unwilling of even your touch. 

“I am a healer,” You say, your throat somewhat tight. ( You think of sunflowers, your bag that is empty, your closet and its piled-up yellow. ) “You are hurt, and I am simply repaying a favor.” 

You sense that he is watching you carefully, but your eyes do not rise to meet his gaze. You simply steal his pain, and you barely feel a thing⏤ even if his injuries were not so light, you think you are too numb to, anyways. 

You move past, and he does not reach for you. The red-haired classmate⏤ Kirishima, you recognize, grins at you, saying that he is unharmed. He offers to escort you back to the front, but then, your wristband is beeping, a location upon it.

You straighten. You are still afraid, you recognize, but there is someone out there that needs help, and this is simply another obstacle you must overcome. You will not always be in your hospital, tending to those that manage to get themselves wheeled in⏤ and though there is fear in you, there is also an equal determination. 

“There are people who need healing,” You say, and that is all you need to. 

You are a healer, but that does not mean you are any less brave.

You are a healer, and this is what you do. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You ask Aizawa, two days later, if he would be willing to teach you self defense. 

( You remember a boy, back from what feels like eons ago. You, on his back, the sun in your chest as he offers to walk you both to and from school. You don’t even know where I’m going, you tease, and he only scoffs at you. Then I’ll teach you how to fight.

You think of your sunflowers, and your bag, empty of them.

Your throat tightens, and you make your decision. )

He looks a little surprised, and asks you if you are sure. He warns you that he will not be a lenient teacher, but you have seen how this man dove headfirst into danger to save his students; seen his kindnesses that are masked in the form of tough love. 

You also know he likes you, at least a little bit. If he hadn’t, he would not have complimented you like that on the third day, would not have had the hint of fondness in his tone as he drawled, that wasn’t a compliment. 

And even if he doesn’t, you know he will be at least a little lenient. 

You had been the one to heal him, after all. 

You are wrong.

You hate running. Always have. You started training, years ago, but that had been entirely out of spite, and in the wake of it⏤ ( your bag, empty of sunflowers )⏤ you had stopped. You hate running, always have, and you have no time, you’d told yourself, nor the energy⏤ but really, you hate it because it reminds you of him.

Now, you hate it for a different reason. You hate it because Aizawa pushes you, hard, until your lungs are gasping for air, your knees and legs trembling⏤ you think, somewhat sourly, that none of your healings had ever prepared you for this. You have healed all manner of wounds, cured a variety of diseases, but that does not change the fact even back when you were running, you had not put everything you had into it, and that now, you are trembling, bones soft, muscles even more so, somewhat like a deer.

You heal fast, though, you always have. You would not have been able to heal without it⏤ Aizawa knows this, which is why he pushes you hard. “If you hadn’t been so dedicated to medicine,” He tells you, “I would’ve told you to go the Hero route instead.” 

You shrug. The thought has never occurred to you. Your mother is a doctor, and as soon as your Quirk had developed, you had never thought about anything else. But you don’t get a chance to voice it, or even to thank him, because then he’s hauling you up by the arm.

“Break’s over,” He informs you, a signature shit-eating grin on his face. You think you’re beginning to hate the sight of it. “Back to running.” 

You sigh, before dutifully acquiescing. 

Schoolwork is easier, at least, though between your sparse shifts at the hospital and Aizawa’s daily after-school training, you are pretty much spent. You don’t even register Mina chatting excitedly beside you about the upcoming UA sports festival that Aizawa has just announced⏤ you only think, a little despairingly; more work. 

You glance up at your pink-haired friend’s surprised exclamation, and you see: a crowd of people, so many that from your vantage point, it seems like it’s the intruder incident all over again. A scoff, vaguely familiar⏤ “They’re obviously scoping out the competition, small fries. We’re the group that made it out of the villain attack.” Someone protests, telling him to play nice⏤ no, you think. This is him being nice. “Out of my way, extras!” 

“I came to see what the famous Class 1-A is like, but you all seem pretty arrogant. Are all the students in the Hero courses like this?” 

You see: a head of purple hair, mussed, and you think⏤ wow, he could be Aizawa if your sensei’s hair was shorter, purple, and he were using his Quirk. 

“Seeing something like this makes me disillusioned. There are quite a few people who enrolled in general studies or other courses because they didn’t make it into the Hero course. Did you know that?” 

You didn’t, but he only continues. 

“The school has left those of us a chance. And based on the results of the sports festival, they’ll consider our transfer into the Hero course, and vice versa. Scoping out the competition?” He scoffs. “I, at least, came to say that even if you’re in the Hero course, if you get too carried away, I’ll sweep your feet out from under you.” His eyes flash, chin raised high. “Consider it a declaration of war.”

You sigh a little internally at the theatrics. “Excuse me, coming through.” You call. You ignore the way the ash-blond tenses a little as you walk up beside him, and you smile politely at the crowd; your uniform your armor, and your makeup your helm. You can do damage control just fine. “I’m class 1-A’s healer, so I don’t have a bone to pick with you really, but,” You cock your head. “All we did was fight off and survive a villain attack. I’m not sure how that’s arrogance. Have any of us gone out of our way to bother you?” 

You are sure your classmates haven’t, because though you have not known them long, you are observant enough to tell that they are good and entirely dedicated to the path of Heroism. And you are right: he is wordless in the face of your diplomatic tone, the maturity of it all. 

But then⏤ a laugh, somewhat mocking. You think you recognize the voice, and you do: it’s class 1-B’s understudy, standing in the middle of the crowd. You have not talked to her much, thinking her quiet, but it seems that really, she just dislikes you. 

“That’s so rich of you to say,” She says, with a scoff. “Sucking up to Recovery Girl all the time, parading around like you own the place, all because you went viral and people started calling you The Best Healer of our Generation.” 

You blink⏤ you remember Sueko mentioning it once, you think, after one of your co-workers, one of the older interns had started making videos of you, with your consent. You had not put much thought behind it, and you hadn’t the time to, between your many hours and the boneless weariness that had been so constant in your life after.

“Get off your high horse,” She snarls, a vehement finality to it, as she scans you, up, and then down. 

You don’t know what to say, because honestly, you had never thought of yourself that way; had not thought of any others thinking of you that way. There are cries of outrage from behind you, you hear, distantly, as if you are underwater, but you are still stuck on the way she scans you. As if you are less than what you are, reduced to the painted trim of your nails, the makeup on your face, less than what you are and undeserving. As if it does not matter that you go to the hospital more often than not, your features clear, your hair pulled up, and lose yourself in your work; the agony of your patients, healing them and then some more until your bones ache with the ghost of their pain and you drop dead to your pillow, your phone turned off. 

You are silent not because you are hurt, exactly⏤ you do not know this girl, and she does not know you⏤ but because you are so stunned. You don’t know what to say, because you have never thought yourself reduced to just this, less than what you are and undeserving. Distantly, you hear the cries of outrage, you feel yourself, adrift amidst an ocean, your hands clenching. You don’t know how to start, or what to even say.

But he does. 

“She doesn’t use social media,” He starts, and yes, you don’t, but how does he know? “It obviously wasn’t even her recording the videos, you fuckwit, and it says in the account biography that it’s owned and run by a friend.” 

You are staring at him, your heart held like hope in your throat. ( You think of your sunflowers. ) You don’t understand why he is saying this, why he is stepping in for you. ( You remember making fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You remember finding that you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ he is tolerant of you, he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, he walks with you before school, and he walks with you after. He never calls himself your friend, but he believes in you and your dream, and promises to walk you to and from school anyways, even if you do not attend the same one. )

He does not look at you, nor does he pause, and though there is anger in his voice, you think he is holding himself back. “High horse?” He laughs sardonically. “Get off yours. She’s already ten times the healer, hell, the Hero, you’ll ever be.” 

( He doesn’t call himself your friend, but he still stands up for you. )

You don’t know what sort of expression you’re making, but it has to be ugly, something complicated, not exactly bewilderment nor gratitude or simply hope but some combination of them all; like something in between. 

“And what would you know? What are you, her guard dog?” She snarks back. 

And finally, you find your voice. 

“He does what he likes.” 

You are still watching him, and you see the way his hands clench, and then unclench. 

( You think very briefly of your sunflowers, and you think that you will always miss them. You can heal any wound on this earth, save the fatal ones, but you cannot heal the hole he has carved into your heart; not the one from this boy who knows you, every facet, both the good and the bad. You have never needed to hide the unsavory parts of yourself from him; after all, your very relationship was built upon a lie. You think a part of you has always loved him for it, will always love him for it⏤ this boy who is not your friend, has never been your friend, but still knows you, stands up for you, and believes in you, in all of you. And, you think, even if he does not care for you, there will always be a part of you that always cares for him. )

You turn to level her with a cool stare. 

“He’s right,” You say. “I don’t use social media, and before you call me a liar, just listen.” You add, as her mouth opens. 

( Your mother is a doctor, and when your Quirk develops, you know you want to go the same route. You have never even considered anything else; never even thought of being a Hero, until your sensei tells you that he might’ve pushed you for it, had you not already been so dedicated to the path.

And you will not pretend like you have been good every step of the way⏤ you are not that much of a good person. Your mother tells you to play nice, because you are a willful child, vindictive in both your action and your speech, and petty enough to hold onto your grudges. You are not that much of a good person, you have never particularly cared to cater to the feelings of those around you unless you feel like it; do not care to stand up for a boy who has done nothing to you, just because he has done nothing for you.

You are grown now, better now, you know, but some elements of you still remain. You still wear your outfits like your armor, though it is not your hair but your makeup that is now your helm, you take time with your appearance and you take care of it every morning. Your volunteering at the hospital was not born entirely out of unselfish intention⏤ firstly because your mother said it was what you should do, and second because you thought the experience would look good, especially since you were applying to UA. But⏤ )

“I don’t know why you applied to UA, but I know why I did.” You say, simply. “It was because I wanted to become a healer, and this is one of the best places in the world to do it.” You straighten, jerking a finger at the ash-blond beside you. “We all went through the same application process. Take him, for example. He’s arrogant, he’s loud, and he always gets on your nerves. But that doesn’t make him any less passionate, or any less of a Hero. It doesn’t matter, because if you’re determined enough, strong enough, you’ll eventually rise to the top.”

You are the center of attention, but you have never been so aware of a singular set of eyes, burning straight into you.

You continue. “I don’t know who you are, or what you want to be, but that goes for the rest of you, too.” You jerk your thumb back to your classroom. “There’s a green-haired boy in there that everyone thought was Quirkless, including himself. But he had a dream that he dared to try for, and look where he is now.” 

You look at your fellow intern, the class 1-B one. 

“I don’t use social media for a variety of reasons, haven’t for a long while, and I won’t pretend like all of them were good. But ever since I started volunteering at the hospital, whenever I think about it, I think: every second I spend scrolling the internet could be another life lost. Someone I didn’t save, something I didn’t learn that could’ve helped someone in the future.” Your shoulders are set, and you lift your chin high. “You can think I’m a liar all you want, but I would hope, as a healer, you would be at least able to understand this.” 

She is mute, and you look at the rest of the crowd, wearing your outfit like armor, your makeup, your helm. 

You raise one eyebrow. “Anything else?” 

Silence is your only answer, and you shrug.

“See you around, I guess.”

The crowd parts mutely before you, but then your wrist is clasped in a hand⏤ you think, very briefly, of sunflowers, but then you turn, and it is Mina grinning up at you, several others from your class in tow. “You’re so fucking cool,” She tells you, bright and genuine. 

You are not that much of a good person, never have been, and, you think, you are not entirely sure if you ever will be. You will never be entirely unselfish, free of your precociousness, your pettiness, your occasional lying habits, and all the other thousand-and-one flaws you could find in yourself, if you really tried. 

But you are growing. You are the same you that you were before, and you are also different. 

You grin at her. “I know I am,” You say. 

You are not that much of a good person, but you are growing, just as much the person you were before, as you are someone new.

You are a healer, you are yourself; this is who you are, and this is what you do. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

His mother calls him out on his sulking, barely a week in.

“Did something happen between the two of you?” She frowns, and his heart clenches painfully in his chest.

“S’fine,” He snarls. “Keep your damn nose out of my business, old hag.” 

For once, his mother does not take him up on the challenge⏤ he almost wishes she would. He’s been itching for a fight, to get it out of his system somehow, but she’s always been able to read him⏤ just like you.

Mitsuki waves the phone in her hand. “Her father said she won’t be joining us for weekly dinners anymore⏤ she’s started volunteering at the hospital, and just won’t have time.” She states, plainly, and without judgment. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, or if you’re still friends, but you were probably a little shit like usual, so get off your ass and go apologize.” 

Apologize. That damned word. He hates it. And he’s considered it, but then he remembers: you, your face, the way it had crumpled, and then the way you’d sneered, don’t talk to me again.

He has always been able to tell your lies from your truths, and it stunned him in the moment, because it had not seemed like so much of a lie. 

And it’s not. He sees the truth of it, a week later, when you skip out on your weekly dinners, accept your volunteer position, and cut the whole of him from your life, just like that. He sees the truth of it, on the first day of school, as he waits by your intersection and is almost late because you aren’t there, as he scans his class for your face and finds you absent, when you pass him in the halls and don’t even bother to look up. He sees the truth of it two months later, when that damned nerd stands at your table, a tray in his hands, and you allow him to sit. His heart is in his throat, clenching around something painful, there is smoke rising from his hands⏤ Deku looks up instinctively, flinching, and you do not even bother to turn. 

( You and your sunflowers, the way you smile like the sun when you find out he is allergic, and go out of your way to plaster sunflower-themed things all over yourself, and he’s not quite sure if they are your favorite flower, or you do it just because you hate him. But then he gets to know you, slowly and over the years, a thousand-and-one forced interactions until he finds, one day, that he is not reacting so sharply to your barbs, uncaring that you flop onto his bed and muss up the sheets, unminding of your chatter, your studious, stupidly competitive nature, the way your eyebrows knit a little when you focus on a more difficult concept, or how you’re grinning as you annoy him, rambling about anything and everything; your fictional crushes.

You say you want to be a healer, and the first thing he thinks is: that’s stupid, why not a Hero?⏤ but your eyes are determined as you say it, there is a fire in them, and he sees that bleed into the way you do things; the way you act. You never call him your friend⏤ you have, once, very clearly a lie⏤ but he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, promises to walk you to and from school, even if he does not know which one you might go to, promises to teach you how to fight. It’s stupid, he knows it is, the way he tenses when you joke that you want him to kiss you so bad because he’s imagining it. And then the guilt after, when you press your cheek softly into the curve of his nape, feeling the dried-out tracks of your tears, the way you shudder as you steal his pain⏤ barely-there, but he feels it, anyway. )

He looks at you, properly, fork crumpling in his hand. “Yo. You’re staring.” One of his friends nudges him, gently, and he forces himself to look away. 

( You, the sunflowers you bedazzle yourself in, your bag absent of them, and the way you never wear anything yellow ever again. )

He’s angry at you, at first. It’s unfair, he thinks, the way you seem to carve him completely out of your life, with all the practiced precision of a surgeon, that he spends almost all his time thinking about you, and that you do not do the same for him. You don’t want to talk to him, you’ve made that abundantly clear, and that’s fine⏤ he has his pride, and he is not going to beg you to stay. Not when you chose the nerd over him. 

But then you stand in the doorway. You look like you did the first day, clear-eyed, but older. Your eyes widen when they catch sight of him, ever-slight, but he’s never missed a single expression on your face, and he does not miss it now. All of a sudden, he wants to talk to you so badly that it hurts⏤ he sees the bags under your eyes and wants to tell you to sleep, the bone-weariness with which you carry yourself, your step absent of skip. 

But then, your gaze drops. He sees your bag, absent of its sunflowers. 

He feels as if his gut were a stone, heavy and damning. 

He remembers: you have never once thought of him as a friend, and he will not beg you to. He will respect your space, your wishes. 

And yet. You stand by the entrance, the day of that first class, fierce and silhouetted by the sun. Are you hurt? You ask him, and it feels as if he were floating, stuck in a dream.

He takes too long to respond, and you give him a once-over, clearly discerning he is fine. You kneel by the damn nerd’s side, and he feels the absence of your attention like a physical thing, but even that is secondary to the horror he feels when you reach the other boy; his arm painfully bruised and almost a terror to look at. 

He wants to say: you don’t have to do this, you don’t have to hurt yourself. There are other healers in the building, and don’t you have a mentor? You raved about Recovery Girl all the time, there’s no reason you should be taking his pain for yourself. And the nerd will be fine⏤ anger clenches at him, then, because if the nerd knows about your Quirk and still allows you to hurt yourself for him⏤ “Why does that even matter?” You ask him, and he hears the ghost of what you don’t say: why do you even care?

He does. Of course he does. He always has, even when you giggle to yourself about something so blatantly stupid, even when you are an entire pain in his ass. 

But then he thinks of you, your bag empty of sunflowers, the way you have not worn yellow since. 

His arm drops back to his side, and he says nothing more to you, just as you’d like. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You have always disliked crowds, but so has he. 

He is watching you when it happens, sees you lingering hesitantly by the exit. You’ll be smart about it, he’s sure⏤ he’s hotheaded, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid or blind. But then⏤ brown-haired cheeks tugs you by the wrist, forcing you into the throng, and he thinks: what the fuck? 

He knows it’s stupid, and that you won’t thank him for it, but he dives after you, anyway. 

He forces his way towards you, watching as you elbow someone particularly hard with a surge of pride, before he’s holding you and marching away, towards the wall, towards free space, trying not to think about how you feel in his arms, how you feel with the whole of you pressed against him. He needs to say something, anything to distract himself, so what he says is: “What the hell were you thinking? You don’t even like crowds.” 

Your cheeks are a little flushed, and you are staring at him. He feels his own warm in turn, and he feels like a kid again, heart like a sun in his chest. 

Your features still. Your mouth flattens, and you are cold as you say what you did not only a day before. “Why do you even care?” You ask.

He does. Of course he does. 

But you do not ask this question in hopes of an answer. Your gaze slides past, and then you go with it, refusing to give him even the time to reach for you. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

When the mist envelops him, the first thing he turns towards is you. 

His eyes widen⏤ you are already in the air, lunging at him, and he barely has the mind, the presence of thought to catch you. You fall as one, and his gut lurches⏤ he wraps himself around you, shielding your vitals, your head from harm, and gladly takes the brunt of the impact. He has all of a second to check up on you, to feel you pressed against him, know that you are safe, before he catches sight of more villains behind. “STAY THERE.” He shoves you into a corner, setting his back to you⏤ and when they are done, you have not moved an inch.

He sees the daze of your eyes, the shock, and cups your cheeks anyways, trying to ground you. “Oi,” He says, harsh, but also soft. “You hurt anywhere?” 

You blink up at him, and then at the red he barely feels sliding down the side of his cheek. 

He jerks away. He doesn’t want you to touch him, not to heal him⏤ he’s strong, he’s fine, he can deal with it, he doesn’t need you to steal his pain. Not when it’ll hurt you. 

“I am a healer,” You say, and his heart clenches again at the sound of your voice, and again when you tell him: “You are hurt, and I am simply repaying a favor.” 

He hears the steel in your voice, lets you touch him.

He would give anything to curl into your touch, even if for the rest of your life, your relationship is just like this: he, the dog, and your favors, the bone. He wants it, so long as you will keep on touching him like this, and yet he also doesn’t want it, because he cannot bear to be the one causing you such pain. 

He is angry beyond words when the extra starts laying into you like she does, and you simply stand there, bearing the brunt of it all. 

He’s watched the videos, seen every single one. Seen how hard you work inside of them⏤ the comments talk about how beautiful you are, but all he can think of is the tired pallor of your face⏤ but what’s more is that he knows how hard you work outside, too, and who is this girl to even talk about you like that, when she doesn’t know what it’s like to take the pain of another, and make it into your own? His tone of delivery is quiet, no less than lethal, and he speaks with every ounce of pride he has in you and the person that you are. 

You are watching him, he thinks, and he thinks, somewhat dizzily, that this is it. You’ll chew him out in front of the crowd, call him out on his bullshit, tell him to stop speaking about you, speaking for you, that you hate him, that he’s stupid, anything and everything of the above. 

But you do not.

You only rise, and he thinks that you are not at all the girl he has known before. Some parts of you are the same, entirely unchanged, but you have grown⏤ so much that it takes his breath away. You have always been coolly elegant in your deliveries when you mean it, but this⏤

He thinks: it is okay if you never want to talk to him, if you don’t care one bit. It is okay if you choose never to wear yellow again, your bag remaining empty of its sunflowers, it is okay if you carve him entirely from your life. 

He will respect your wishes, and watch from the sidelines, basking in the radiance of you: the healer, the girl, and simply everything that you are. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You should not be here. 

You feel terribly out of place in this darkened room, with a crowd of familiar villains before you, disoriented and groggy. 

If it were not for the ash-blond by your side, you think you might’ve started hyperventilating. You are quiet as you wake. You notice: his hands are bound, but yours are not⏤ they know you are a healer, you think, and they do not fear you. 

You feel, rather than see, crimson eyes slide to yours. You blink up at him. 

And then, his eyes flicker up.

You see the resolve set firmly onto his face. You know him, likely more than he does himself, which is why you know what he will say. 

He says: “I’ll listen. I’ll consider working with you, so long as you make sure to leave her out of it.” 

No. The word clangs into you with a force, a viciousness. You jolt upwards, so fast your head spins⏤ no. You know he won’t. He is a Hero to the core, and you know this, because you have decided early on that you will remain a step behind him always, even if he does not care at all for you, there and ready to steal away your pain. You have decided: you will see him live out all of his days, full of glory and entirely unscathed, victorious, and you will not watch him burn his life away like this, tucked away in a corner of this world, quietly and without a sound. 

He lies to protect you, and you decide there and then that it isn’t worth it. You know him, have spent a thousand and one days getting to know him, just as you know that his bluff will be called before long, because though Bakugou Katsuki is many things, you have always known him to be a terrible liar. 

You aren’t, though.

You straighten, and rasp. “No, he won’t.” 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

He watches you straighten, watches you drawl, and he feels a terror like ice creeping up to his throat.

Your lips are pulled into your liar’s smile, soft and lovely under the candlelight, but then⏤ “Katsuki’s going to be a Hero,” You tell them, and his heart stutters because when was the last time you actually called him by his name? 

“Shut the fuck up,” He tells you.

You ignore him.

“Trust me when I say, this guy’s like, the biggest All Might fan you’ll ever see. Well, actually, maybe not the biggest⏤ Midoriya’s collection is insanely impressive, but you get the point. Did you really see his actions at the Sports Festival and think that was your opening?” 

You stand, a smirk on your face, and he wants to tell you to shut the hell up again, to just stop talking, but⏤ you turn, you flash him a grin, and it’s like he’s six again and seeing you for the first time. You see him, in a way no one else ever has, in a way that assuages all the criticism he’s seen since, narrowing his world down to these things: you, and your unwavering confidence in him. Your lips are pulled into your liar’s smile, you are scared and terrified and pretty much everything in between, but he hears your words, hears your truth.

“Newsflash, losers. He’s wanted to be a Hero ever since he was a kid, and nothing’s ever going to change that.” 

His heart swells so tight he thinks it’s going to burst. You, in this moment, like you still care, that he’s not alone in this, and that he cares for you more than anything else in the world, loves you more than you will ever know. 

You do not need to say anything else, because there is a knock on the door⏤ pizza delivery, someone calls, and then the door opens; All Might in the flesh. The heroes⏤ and then you are scrambling for him, your fingers fumbling with the knots, but he simply jerks his hands apart, tearing the fabric, and reaches for yours. 

You still a little, surprised, flinching back a bit, but his heart is singing⏤ you care, he thinks, somewhat dumbly, like a mantra bouncing around inside his head. He barely registers the rest of it⏤ he emerges by the ruins of a building, your hand still in his, piloting the both of you around the villains who try to keep you. Shitty Hair, calling down at him from the fucking sky⏤ what the fuck? but then he’s calling for you, and then there is you: looping your arms around his neck, knowing, instinctively, what he means.

His chest warms like the sun, ethereal and glorious. 

You blast together into the night. His hand lands upon another one, similarly callused, and then he’s curling his other around you, latching you to him. Your head is settled in the crook of his neck, and you don’t protest it in the slightest, only untangling yourself once you land.

You don’t reach for his hand once you do, but that’s okay. His heart is singing. 

He snarls at the others in his usual manner, and you assert yourself with your own. He follows you as you walk, a step behind. The others leave you at the police station, their own parents plenty concerned, and he doesn’t mind it in the slightest⏤ he gets to walk you home, after all. 

You are silent as he does. He walks a step behind, and does not prod you. 

You stop. He does, too. Your hands ball up into fists. He watches, waiting. 

Finally, you whisper. “Why the hell’d you do it?” 

That is not at all what he’s expecting you to say.

“Hah?” He’s never been good with his words, always more combative than means. Particularly with you. Especially with you. “Cause I wanted to, dumbass. The hell do you want me to say?” 

You whip around and slug him instantly, punching him square in the gut. 

He barely bends from the force of it. You clutch your fist, teary and glaring. 

“Fuck you,” You hiss. “Fuck you, Katsuki. You don’t just get to pretend like you care when you want to, whenever it suits you! You don’t get to⏤” 

He’s stunned into silence. He’s the one that’s pretending like he cares about you?

Your mouth opens and closes, so angry that you cannot quite find the words. “You don’t get to just fucking try and sacrifice yourself for me! What the fuck!” 

He steps closer, disbelief lighting a second sun in his chest.

You lash out. “Stay away from me!” 

He catches it in his hand, and you try to fucking headbutt him. He dodges that, too, and then he’s pulling you into him, as tight as his heart feels.

You stiffen. Frankly, he doesn’t give a shit, not when he’s figured out how you really feel. 

“I’m sorry,” He rasps into your ear. “I care for you. I’ve liked you since we were fucking six, and you shoved your stupid fucking sunflowers in my face. I was angry. I’m sorry. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll have me.” 

You do not move. Do not breathe, and for all of a second, he thinks: this is it. 

And then, you crumple. 

He can count the number of times he’s seen you cry on one hand, but you weep into his shoulder now, a year’s worth of repressed emotions wrung out of you in an instant. You melt into him so perfectly he feels as if he was made for you, the weight of you so perfect and familiar in his arms. “You’re so fucking stupid,” He thinks you are saying though it’s somewhat unintelligible, between your sobs and the way your voice is muffled from being pressed into his chest. 

He chuffs in your ear. “Feel free to add blind and ugly to the list, if you’d like.” 

You laugh, broken and teary, but then your arms rise, and you are wrapping them around him.

He thinks: it’s okay if the world ends right then and there, so long as he gets to hold you; just like this; just then and there; just for a moment longer. 

( He thinks of you and your sunflowers, your liar’s smile. How your face had lit up in absolute delight at the sound of his first sneeze, and how you’d stepped forward to thrust it further into his face, a wicked grin on yours all the while. How you lie your way into weekly dinners, and he’s furious, swearing he won’t talk to his parents for the whole of a month⏤ but then you’re there, in his room and making fun of his figurines.

You say, somewhat disinterestedly, that you think you remember a new All Might one on the market. He caves, and his vow lasts only a week. 

He thinks of you and your sunflowers, your liar’s smile. How he had always hated the sight of them before you; a young god faced with his one mortal weakness, but as time went on, he learned how he did not quite mind the look of them on you. He thinks of you and your sunflowers, your liar’s smile; soft and lovely under the candlelight, scared and shaking and terrified but still believing wholly in him, just as he does you. 

He thinks he has loved you since forever. )

Absent-mindedly, he presses his mouth to your hair.

And in the light of the dawn, pink-streaked and painting you awash in sunflower yellow, you look up at him, and smile. 

bc i need to rant about this fic: afterword

[javierpena-inatacvest]

It's Never Too Late Masterlist

Summary: You are an elementary school teacher who just moved to Texas for a fresh start when you meet a very handsome man from the Laredo Sheriff's Department coming to give your class a presentation.

After your co-workers pull some strings for you to meet again, you and Javier Peña find yourselves falling head over heels for each other.

Story takes place post Narcos Season 3 in Laredo, Texas, starting May 1997.

Paring: Javier Peña x OFC (Reader is an elementary school teacher whose nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+ chapters containing marked with * and each chapter will also have its own warnings), language, fluff, romantic comedy, reader has physical descriptions, Javi being so soft and getting all the love and affection he deserves, you two being the biggest weirdos so in love

Status: Ongoing

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list for new chapters as they come out! :)

Main Story:

Chapter 1: I D.A.R.E. You

Chapter 2: What's Cookin', Good Lookin'?

Chapter 3: I Wanna Be With You Everywhere*

Chapter 4: Add You To My List*

Chapter 5: You're The One That I Want*

Chapter 6: Dinosaurs, Dates and Diners, Oh My!*

Chapter 7: School's Out for Summer*

Chapter 8: My Favorite Cowboy*

Chapter 8.5: 007- Peña, Agent Peña*

Chapter 9: I Promise*

Chapter 10: Happy Birthday, Javi*

Pt. 1*

Pt. 2*

Chapter 11: Abe Froman, Sausage King of Chicago *

Chapter 12: I Love You. I Know. *

Chapter 13: There's No Place Like Home*

Chapter 14: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas*

Chapter 15: She Shoots, She Scores*

Chapter 16: The Lone Star State*

Chapter 17: No Ifs, Ands, Or Butts*

Chapter 18: Hole in None*

Chapter 19: Good Luck, and Goodnight*

Chapter 20: I Do

Pt. 1*

Pt. 2*

Spin-Off Series:

Forever and Always*: Slices of life following the Peña family after their first child

One Shots (In chronological order of the main storyline):

Movie Night*

Dirty Laundry*

Again*

You're My Home*

Not Yet*

Happy Valentine's Day, Javier Peña*

The Mouse and the Motorcycle

You Make Life Worth It

Take Me Home

Plaid Pajama Morning

Agent Peña*

Every Inch*

Soup for Breakfast

Whatever My Wife Wants*

Fever*

Oh, Baby

Peanut Butter and Pickles

You Make Lovin' Fun*

Asks/Headcannons:

Javi and Osita before work

Javi's DEA Jacket

Javi's Tac Vest

Javi and Osita when they argue

Javi being distractingly cute

Javi when he's sick

Osita when she's pregnant

Osita after a bad day at work

Javi coming home after work to his kids

Javi and Osita deciding how many kids they want

Javi and his daughters at the Eras Tour

Extras:

NSFW Alphabet- Javi and Osita*

1K Followers Celebration Asks and Answers

Never Too Late Playlist

Mood board

Timeline of NTL

[shiny-kaibernyte]

Arven Headcannons (Romantic)

No warnings: Just pure fluff

There are a few general headcannons in here and a couple of how i think him and Nemona's friendship would be. But its 90% fluff. I actually wrote WAYYYY more than what's in this post but i didn't think people would want to read an entire Essay. So here are a selection!

This man cannot bake for anything. Give him a grill and bread, he will give you a 5 star meal. Give him a whisk and a cake try he will burn the house down. So don’t expect a homemade cake on your birthday. Or at least don’t expect one from him.

He was Smitten with you the moment you agreed to help him on his Titan Quest. Reluctantly or joyfully, hearing you agreeing made him fall head over heels for you and he didn’t even know it. Maybe that's why he tried extra hard on those Sandwiches. 

Arven and Nemona used to fight over the best friend position, You’d usually have to stand in the middle of them to prevent their Pokémon battles from spilling into personal ones. Arven would later claim the Boyfriend card once Area Zero was dealt with, Nemona was very pleased to cement the best friend spot.

You are the only other person who's allowed to take Mabosstiff out on walks. You're his person, so you get the puppy. Nemona and Penny both tried, it resulted in Arven throwing a tomato at Nemona and Penny slowly backing out of the room. He did mourn the tomato though… he wanted that tomato.

Arven isn’t necessarily Protective, but he is observant. He will defend your honour and voice with every ounce of his being. But he also isn’t a violent person, that's what Pokémon battles are for. 

That being said, if something did happen to you, especially if you fell ill. He would go to hell and back to find some way of helping you. He already proved that much, just don’t bail on him if he needs you most.

Love Language: Gift Giving + Quality time.

If he can, he will SPOIL you. He never had someone love him the way you do. Show him the kindness and compassion that makes his heart sore. If he could give you the world. He’d hand you the Galaxy on a silver plate. But until he can find a Cosmo. A plushie will have to be done for now.

He is not a morning person at all. The only reason you will ever find him up before midday is for one of two reasons: A teacher told him off for being late and he’s only got 1 more warning before another suspension OR Mabosstiff dragged him out of bed by the ankle and forced him to go outside. There is no other reason.

Terrible at video games, absolutely horrendous. Dude can’t even play Minecraft without throwing the controller. Penny tried to teach him how to play Stardew Valley, he got angry at Pierre for the backpack price and hasn’t picked up the game again. Though he’s happy to watch you play and will hold down a button if you get tired. Never ask him to play though… unless you need to laugh, then ask. 

One time you tried to put a bow on Mabosstiff ‘s head. With no recollection how or why, it somehow ended up in Arven’s hair. You have now learnt Arven can rock a manbun and a sparkling pastel pink bow. 

When you first stayed the night, dude slept like a board. He did not move a single cell in his body. It wasn’t until you were resting your head on his chest that he actually moved. He has since loosened up, but it took a while for him to trust himself enough to even touch you when you slept. 

He cannot Flirt. You cannot tell me otherwise.

He bought you both onesies to wear on movie nights. Yes he has to have a Saturday movie night with you or he gets grumpy. 

Sometimes Arven will bring you lunch or make you breakfast so he knows you have eaten at least something during the day. Plus he also uses it as an excuse to see you smile but he will never say that to your face. Only Mabosstiff.

Dude is terrified of Cetitan. Ever since the "mountain incident" Cetitan is his greatest enemy. Arven tries to act tough and unafraid to impress you but, Grusha has and will continue to use this fear to his Advantage any time Nemona drags Arven to the Mountains. You totally didn’t make a deal with Grusha and Nemona, that isn’t something you did… Wink wink.

You don’t borrow his clothes, he donates them. There have been numerous occasions you have opened a drawer or wardrobe to find one of his numbers, jackets, vests, anything! Just something new of his somewhere for you to have. He will even buy different sizes if you prefer baggy shirts or snug shirts.

He remembers everything and yet nothing at the same time. You ask him what day it is, he’ll look at you like you just asked him to explain calculus to a class of year 1’s. Ask him your favourite movie!? Arven will go into excruciating detail about everything to the point you’d think he directed it. Nemona and Giacomo once held a quiz night on Arven just to test how much he did remember. Dude remembered nothing about anyone else, except birthdays… he’s good at that. But you dude could write your autobiography. 

Dude has zero fear of heights, once Miridon learnt how to fly, anytime Arven would join you, he’d always sit behind you so he could hold your waist. It’s been a little thing of his ever since Area Zero, he can’t not do it. Even if he’s the better driver; Dude will sit behind you as an excuse to just hold you.

Almost No PDA he is a private person. He does lean on you though or will stand behind you almost like a bodyguard. If he does touch you in public it's usually a reassuring hand on the shoulder, on the small of your back to guide you somewhere or your arm locked into his. He isn’t a hand holder, he usually is carrying something or needs his hands free so he does subtle stuff instead.

[lucy90712]

Jude Bellingham with a bookworm reader going to the bookstore, like those videos on Tiktok where the boyfriends buy a bunch of books to their girlfriends 🥹

A/n: I had to post this today as it's my birthday and I got so many books so this seems fitting 

I woke up this morning to the feeling of kisses being pressed to my face and neck from Jude. I kept my eyes closed for a bit longer so he would keep kissing me but he caught on quickly that I was awake so I was made to open my eyes but I was rewarded for doing so with a kiss on my lips. He is usually quite affectionate but this morning he's being extra affectionate which I'm definitely not complaining about. Jude wasn't satisfied with just kisses though he wanted to cuddle so he moved my boom that was laying on my stomach from me falling asleep reading it and pulled me into his chest to cuddle. 

"Happy birthday my love" Jude said 

"Thank you" I said 

"I hope you're ready as I have a few surprises ready for you" he said 

"I'd like to think I'm ready but I never know with you there's always a chance that you will try and take me skydiving or something" I laughed 

"I promise I'm not going to do that you are going to love what I have planned" he said 

We cuddled in bed together for a while longer before he picked me up out of bed and carried me downstairs where he had set up balloons and banners which weren't there when we went to bed so he must've got up after I'd fallen asleep to do it all. There was also cards and presents sat on the table waiting for me some of which were clearly from my parents which he must've helped them send. Jude was still yet to put me down and he carried me to the spare room downstairs in his house which he didn't know what to with. Finally he put me down outside the door and made me close my eyes while he opened the door and lead me inside. I was a little scared as Jude's surprises can either be great or terrifying I always think about the time he surprised me with a giant spider he'd caught which freaked me out but he found so funny. 

He walked me inside and then allowed me to open my eyes which is when I saw what he'd done. The room which was completely empty now had book shelves across two of the walls and a comfortable chair with a lamp beside it. He'd made me a reading room because he knows how much I love reading. I read during every spare second in my life on my days off I read, before I got to bed I read even when a Jude takes me to his training sessions I spend most of the time reading. Books have always been my first love and I have so many of them but until now I had nowhere to put them so they are all in boxes hidden away in our garage. The fact that Jude had even thought about making this room a space for me to read in nearly made me tear up then he told me he built all the shelves himself whenever I wasn't home I couldn't stop a few tears leaving my eyes. 

"This is so amazing thank you so much" I said trying to hold back more tears 

"Its ok I'm glad you like it I realised that this house just feels like my home with my gym and all of the trophies and pictures hanging up so I wanted you to have your own space where you can do what you enjoy" Jude said 

"You're the best boyfriend ever I hope you know that" I said jumping into his arms to hug him 

We decided that later we would start organising my books onto the shelves but we didn't have time right now as Jude said he still has more surprises in store. First we had to get ready as he told me we are going to breakfast with some friends before we can do our next activity. Jude has really gone all out for my birthday this year which isn't necessary as all I really want is to spend the day together but he always promised me when we first got together when we were 17 that once he made it in football he'd spoil me and I guess this is him doing that. Last year we didn't get to spend my birthday together because we had conflicting schedules so Jude promised he'd make my next birthday perfect which he's doing a good job so far. 

Breakfast with our friends was really nice I haven't seen them in a while as Jude and I have been away so it was nice to catch up and they all gave me lovely gifts. We couldn't stay long as Jude insisted we had somewhere to be but he wouldn't tell me or even our friends where we were going. Once we were back in the car he made me close my eyes as he put in the address in case I knew where we were going and then again when we got closer I had to keep my eyes closed again so I couldn't see where we ended up. Jude even helped me out the car so nothing would be spoiled until he was ready for me to see. 

I heard the noise of a bell like the ones they have on the doors of smaller shops to signal that someone has come in which is exactly when I was allowed to have my sight back. Once my eyes adjust I realised that we were in a book store and not just any book store the one I always see on my way home from work but have never been into as I usually don't have time to stop. The entire place was empty which had me confused until Jude said that he had rented out the store for an hour so I could walk around and look at all the books with no one bothering me. I didn't need more encouragement than that to start walking down all the rows and rows filled with books to look at them all. 

I've never had a favourite genre or author I just love reading any book that sounds like it had an interesting storyline. Even though they say don't judge a book by its cover I definitely do as if I can see that a book as a cool cover I am more likely to pick it up and read the back. I picked up quite a few books off the shelves all of which were interesting and seemed like a good read but I was selective on the ones I kept hold of as I know if I let myself I'd just read everything in the whole store. I was so in my own world that I completely forgot that Jude was even there I spent my time looking at books and talking to myself about whether they seemed good or not. If I could live in a bookstore like this one I'd be happy forever and I suppose if Jude was here that would make it even better but even without him I'd be happy if I was surrounded by this many books. 

After I'd walked through the whole store I had five books in my arms which were the best books I found in the store. That was when I remembered that Jude was there and I turned around to find him as he could've left in the time that I was in my own world. He hadn't left though he was stood right behind me holding even more books that I’d picked up but ultimately put down. I looked at him confused but he just had a big smile on his face. 

"What are you doing?" I asked 

"I want you to fill up your little home library and I know you have a lot of books but you'll finish those books you've got in less than a month and I want you to still have something to look forward to reading at least until Christmas when I can top up your to read list again" he said 

"That's really sweet of you but I don’t need this many books plus it'll cost a lot of money" I said 

"Well it's a good thing I have the money to spend on them then but seriously don't worry about how much it costs I'm doing this as I want to spoil you you never spend money on yourself so please let me do this for you" he said 

"As long as you promise you won't do this all the time and it's just this once then I'll let you" I said 

"I promise now come on let's get all these books and head home to put them all on the shelves" Jude smiled 

I think Jude was so much more excited about putting together what he likes to call my mini library. As soon as we got back home he went and got all the boxes we've stored away while I got us some snacks and drinks to fuel us as we start what will be a long task. First I had to decide how I wanted to organise everything which was hard but in the end I decided to do it by author as I'll be able to keep better track of where everything is that way. I got all the books together and Jude put them up on the shelves for me which was the easy part of the job as I spent more time telling him about the storyline of some of the books I'd forgotten about but loved so much. Jude has never been a reader but he still listens to me whenever I'm telling him about whatever book I'm reading and he makes an effort to always ask me about my current read which really means a lot to me as it shows he understands that reading is to me what football is to him. 

It took hours but eventually we had every single book on the shelves in alphabetical order based on author. It was a magnificent sight the walls that were plain the last time I came in here are now covered with the many colours of the books I own which made me feel weirdly calm and at home. This room is definitely going to become my safe space where I can come when I need to get away and that's the best present Jude has ever given me. 

"I'm not going to see you for a week straight now we've finished this am I" Jude laughed 

"Possibly but if you join me and read one of the books then you'll see me" I said 

"I'd much prefer you read a book to me I love listening to you read" he said 

"I think that can be arranged but you have to decide what book you want to read so I'd get looking there's a lot to choose from" I laughed 

"I'll think about that tomorrow right now I want to spend the rest of your birthday spoiling you" he said 

"You are definitely doing a good job of that so far I've had the best birthday" I said 

[fairlyang]

dad!miguel headcanons 🕷️

dad!miguel who always prepared gabi’s lunch in a hello kitty thermo (if he made her sopa de letras, her fav) or a hello kitty sandwich box because he knew how excited his little girl would be when she’d see how her lunch was packaged

dad!miguel who would write cute little messages or corny dad jokes on little post it notes with whatever sweet treat he’d leave her

“How does a penguin build its house?” he wrote on one side then flips it over to write the answer

“Igloos it together.” he signs it with “te amo<3” then rereads his joke to laugh at it before sticking it to a rice krispie

dad!miguel would definitely know how to do gabi’s hair (because he would do absolutely anything for her) so when she asked if he could do elsa’s braid you can bet your ass he searched up easy tutorials on youtube

dad!miguel who will make or buy whatever snack gabi may crave, have it be chicharrones, brownies, or a popsicle de gansitos, he will make sure she gets whatever she asks for

dad!miguel who would sing gabi to sleep, songs ranging from lullabies to boleros to vicente fernadez’s whole discography

dad!miguel that signs her up to whatever her little heart desires. an art class? say less. ballet? he’ll sprint to buy the shoes

dad!miguel who accidentally falls asleep on the couch after watching barbie movies with gabi

extra points knowing he’d be sitting legs spread, head against the cushion with his mouth wide open letting out the loudest of snores imaginable which would just make gabi giggle in shock

dad!miguel who’d get drunk at the neighbor’s kid’s birthday party and be one of those mexican dads to be singing so obnoxiously but somehow sounding not so bad

“le dedicó esta para mi niña hermosa.”

cue piel canela playing and dad!miguel snatching the mic from one of the tios

he tries to find gabi through drunken eyes but once he spots her in her bright pink dress he sings to her, pointing to her when the lyrics say “me importas tu y tu y tu y solamente tu.”

gabi with wide, glossy eyes watching her papi give her yet another serenata because she was spoiled rotten in all aspects, this being one of them because she loved his singing

dad!miguel who would call up his friend’s mariachi early in the morning on gabi’s birthday but ask the favor that he can sing for her instead because he always wants her day to extra special

[lovelucilfer]

self indulgent fluff for my beloved husband's birthday!! after worrying that I wouldn't have anything to post for him, I somehow managed to write this. I love him and he deserves nothing but softness. happy birthday to my favourite uchiha. 🍅🍙💙

The first thing Sasuke notices when he wakes, sitting up as he blinks the sleep from his tired eyes, is the unusual absence on your side of the bed. It's rare for you to rouse before he does, but a press of his hand to the sheets and the warmth still clinging to them tells him that you're not far. Though he already has a sneaking suspicion as to where you've disappeared to. One that makes a fond smile tug at the corners of his lips as he gets up.

Instead of going about his morning routine as he usually would, Sasuke wanders out from your bedroom, padding carefully down the hallway towards the kitchen of your home. This is where you are, he's certain of it — if the sweet, resounding hum of your voice and clattering dishes are anything to go by.

Sure enough, as he breaches the doorway, leaning against its frame, there you are. The sight of you makes Sasuke soften, his muscles going lax as he refrains from making his presence known just yet. You're still in your pajamas, hair thrown up into a haphazard bun to keep it from falling into your eyes as you cook. He takes his time letting his heavily lidded gaze roam over you, appreciating every curve and inch of your exposed skin as you work; the crook of your neck, the inviting slope of your shoulder, and your bare thighs. All favourite places of his.

Sasuke knows that you know what day it is, and the thought that you've gone out of your way to wake up earlier than you typically like to in order to make him breakfast has warmth spreading through his chest. The small ways in which you show your love for him, and choose to celebrate him, never going unnoticed. His fingers twitch with want as he pushes himself from the door, tempted to reach out and pull you close as he splays them over your skin.

"You're up early." Sasuke murmurs, startling you with the low rasp of his voice, a hint of amusement in his tone as he watches you turn your head to look at him with pleasant surprise.

His name falls from your lips at the familiar sound, breathy and affectionate, and a smirk tugs at his lips in response as he quietly closes the distance between the two of you. Sasuke's hand finds your hip to give it a gentle squeeze in greeting. Dropping his head to nose along your neck, he breathes you in before brushing his lips against your shoulder.

"I am," you confirm, a giggle bubbling up from your mouth as Sasuke's hair tickles you, "Go sit, it's almost ready."

Sasuke hums, reluctant to pull away from the comfort of your body heat, but moves to seat himself at the kitchen table as per your request. He knows better than to argue, and he wouldn't want you to think that the effort of your doting gesture has been lost on him. It's quite the opposite, as he gazes at you there's nothing but unadulterated love in his eyes. You can see it too, suddenly feeling shy as you set his food down in front of him. It isn't uncommon for you to make breakfast, but something about this morning, knowing you've made it especially with him in mind has it feeling extra special.

When Sasuke glances down at the plate before him on the table his heart squeezes in his chest. All of his favourites are included, prepared undoubtedly with love and care, but there's one thing in particular that has an unexpected rush of emotion catching him off guard. Cherry tomatoes, that you've somehow managed to slice deftly into the shape of small hearts.

You worry at your bottom lip as you arrange your own breakfast, skimming through your mind for anything you could have missed while you wait for the telltale sound of Sasuke's hum of approval. It's a sound you've become partial to, taking pleasure in it whenever you get the chance to cook for the both of you. But it doesn't come, and you can feel the weight of Sasuke's gaze, the silence eating away at you as your pulse quickens with concern.

"Is it too much? It's silly... childish, I know—" you stammer, shaking your head as heat starts to rise to your face in embarrassment, turning to look at him only to be met with the hard plane of his chest, "Mm!"

You're interrupted by the firm press of Sasuke's lips to yours, his hand finding the small of your back with practiced ease as he circles your waist, scooping you into his embrace as he kisses you. It's all-consuming, the kind of kiss that steals your breath and has you chasing after his mouth once he pulls away — as is every kiss Sasuke initiates, you've found. You flush at the sudden proximity, melting at the feel of his hot breath fanning out over your lips as your own hands come up to cup his face instinctively. Brushing your thumbs along his jaw, your eyes search his, filled with love and longing.

"It's perfect." He insists, his voice carrying a warmth and tenderness saved solely for you as he dispels your worries, "Thank you."

Sasuke's words are saturated with sincerity, his gratitude evident as he punctuates them with yet another deep, fervent kiss. He feels your arms slide up to wrap around his neck as he captures your lips, revelling in the way that you arch into him, even as he pulls away to study your delicate features. Several moments pass as you peer at one another, time seeming to suspend itself as the two of you bask in the intimate exchange.

"Happy birthday, Sasuke." you tell him finally, your voice dripping with adoration as you brush the hair from his face, wanting to look at him fully.

It makes Sasuke's heart skip a beat, fluttering in his chest as he peers down at you with a soft reverence that speaks volumes to the depths of his love and appreciation for you. Seeing the same love reflected back at him in your eyes, he can't help but to smile. He knows that in that moment, every birthday from here on will be a good one, so long as he gets to spend it by your side.

[uyuforu]

Jungkook's Solar Return Chart 2024-2025

₊ ⊹ ALLEGEDLY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY₊ ⊹

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ JK's Solar Return for 2023-2024

જ⁀➴ Jungkook's Fashion Style Evolution

જ⁀➴ When will Jungkook marry?

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What is a Solar Return Chart?

A solar return chart is a chart that literally describes your year from your birthday of a year until the day before next year. For example, Jungkook's 2024-2025 Solar Return will starts on September 1st 2024 until August 31st 2025. It describes the year for you, what will mostly happens. It said as a solar return chart because your sun returns in its home sign (your natal sun).

How to check your Solar Return Chart?

Go to astro.com > Free Horoscopes > Horoscope Drawings and Data > Extended Chart Selection

Enter your birth day, month, year, time and location

Where it's written chart selection with "natal chart", scroll to Solar Return Chart

On the box down there you can add asteroids to see more details ("additional objects")

ᯓ★ Annual Profection Year: 4H

When one is turning 27 years old, they are in their 4H APY. A 4H APY can mean JK will be focused on stability this year, family, close relationships too. What does he want to settle for, and what does he want to invest in. This year will be filled with reflections about his future, and what kind of life he wants to live in. It's also a time to move, to think of children, future, and building a foundation, but what kind of foundation? What kind of future does he want to build.

ᯓ★ 2H Sun means this year for JK will be focused on Money and Possessions. JK can start to think differently about money, perhaps also be more responsible. He can also make more money this year, find other ways to make money, or just have a new source of income. He can also manifest more money in his life. Very ambitious this year, it can also mean taking risks with money because of his ambition and projects.

ᯓ★ Leo Rising is a time for extra popularity for JK! I know it's strange to say that considering he is already very famous lol. But JK will be more under the projectors the year. I think he can be talked about more and will be more "seen" by other people. Getting more attention. JK's appearance could again make a lot of success for people around him. JK Could also look more proud and confident this year. JK can also do some activities this year that will make him way more famous, just having more attention on his activity this year.

ᯓ★ Moon 12H can mean JK will be more sensitive this year, will feel everything more intensely too. Perhaps will need more sleep as well. Could feel lonely sometimes this year, or just will need more time alone.

ᯓ★ Leo Moon means JK will feel more popular this year, perhaps he will feel seen again, with Military in between. He could also have some spotlight again, and perhaps also feel seen for his talent. He could feel like his popularity will go higher. Though he can react in a more dramatic way this year, he could also have a lot of inspiration for his work coming from his emotions.

ᯓ★ Mercury 1H can be a sign of JK standing more for himself this year. JK can also be more confident about his opinions. He can discover a lot about himself too, and perhaps even learn something new about him.

ᯓ★ Leo Mercury can mean JK can speak in a more confident way this year, and can be more confident in his ideas, and what he believes in. He can speak louder too, or just be more proud and less shy about his voice. JK can also talk a lot about what inspire him this year.

ᯓ★ Moon conjunct Mercury can mean JK will speak more about his feelings and his emotions, how things make him feel. He can be more real with people such as ARMY on certain situations. He will say what he thinks and thinks what he says.

ᯓ★ Part of Fortune 2H can be another big sign of having money this year, being lucky with money. JK can def attract a lot of money. Could also mean a glow up, JK can take better care of himself and put more money in clothings for example.

ᯓ★ Sun conjunct POF can be a sign JK will be more lucky this year.

ᯓ★ Venus 2H can be a sign JK will make more money this year. I guess also strange in a way to say that about him, but I truly think he will make a deal that can make him have more money. He can attract more in general, and he can also buy more clothing, luxuries, etc. We could also see JK be more in touch with his feminine side, perhaps also doing photoshoots with more feminine vibe perhaps!

ᯓ★ Juno 3H is a sign of this year being the year he will meet or see his Future Spouse! Many people asked me this, I think they won't meet for sure this year. But I think with this placement JK will be introduced to his FS online. I think he will see her online, on social media, and won't totally be able to reach out.

ᯓ★ Briede 3H means something similar, but the fact that Briede and Juno conjunct each other is a great sign. I think JK will def encounter his FS online this year. This can also be a sign of getting to know your FS better, learning more infos about your FS, etc.

ᯓ★ Vertex 5H is a sign JK will live a transformative experience in his love life. Perhaps also Something significant will happen to him this year. It can also mean he will get a sudden good idea or inspiration.

ᯓ★ Pluto 6H is an indictor or losing or gaining weight! JK could gain weight this year, but it can be muscles since Pluto trine Mars. JK could also overwork himself this year, perhaps working so much he can get sick because of that.

ᯓ★ Saturn 8H can mean JK can feel stuck in his inner world, he could actually realize something needs to change in his life. He needs to face what needs to change and do some actions towards it. It can still be hard and confusing since Neptune is there too. Saturn also opposite Sun, which means this transformation JK will need to get this year will be hard on him.

ᯓ★ Neptune 8H can mean JK can be confused about his spirituality this year. He can have signs, and even be lead to be more open on this side of his life, but he can be confused about what to do. He can also be more into occult and esoteric researches.

╰┈➤ Get your own Solar Return Chart, from 15€ to 50€ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

ᯓ★ Chiron 9H can be a sign of JK learning a hard and painful lesson when it comes to spirituality this year. Can be about friendship, online presence, community, fandom, perhaps JK will realize something painful about his relationship to ARMY.

ᯓ★ MC Taurus can be a sign of JK having a pleasant reputation. JK can be seen as respectable, someone who is hard working and works well. Someone who has a lot of money too, someone people should respect. He can also be admired for his beauty. Because his Solar Return MC falls in his Natal 5H, he could also be seen as a true artist, someone who has a lot of imagination. JK can perhaps even touch to the movie making world this year more than before.

ᯓ★ Uranus 10H is something I wanted to talk about for sure here. This placement is gonna make some noise I think. So Uranus 10H is a sign of a major and perhaps sudden change in one's career. The thing is, Uranus is ruled by Aquarius, and JK has Aquarius 7H, which is the house of contract and partnership. Now, hear me out. I think JK will change his contract perhaps with HYBE this year. There is a major change, and since 10H Ruler in 2H is here, he can get a lot of money from this. Or actually be the winner in this change. Uranus 10H can also be a sign of being fired, but I don't see it particularly here. But the change will def give JK a lot of money, and also attention. JK will also perhaps be seen in a different light. He will want to change his reputation. JK can also do a project in his career that no one will be expecting, and it will make him get a lot of money.

ᯓ★ Jupiter 11H is a sign JK will achieve dreams, and goals he had. He could also meet new people or feel very blessed with people who are around him. JK will spend more time with people this year. He could also have new goals and will be very into achieving them. He could be veryyyy popular this year.

ᯓ★ Mars 11H means JK will have more popularity this year. He can find himself meeting new friends, but at least this means everyone will wanna be his friends. He can find himself being chased after people wanting to be close to him. JK can collab with a lot of different people, he will be approached mostly. He can also be seen more with friends.

ᯓ★ 1H Ruler in 2H can mean changing aesthetic, changing how you look. JK can change his style this year, his appearance, perhaps his hair, etc. He can also buy new clothings. JK can also happen to shop more this year, and be more interested in fashion. He can spend more money on himself too.

ᯓ★ 2H Ruler in 1H is very similar to the one I just said. Overall, spending a lot of money on himself and for himself. He can also make a lot of money because of him, his appearance. Perhaps he can get more modeling contracts.

ᯓ★ 3H Ruler in 2H can mean JK can post a lot about his new aesthetic online, or he can show more his outfits, or we will have more contents on jk's outfits lol. More people can talk about his fashion sense, and he can do it too.

ᯓ★ 4H Ruler in 6H can mean jk can find a new routine at home, or with family. He can also work with family members, or he can also move in or live often with a coworker. He can also live in his office lol, or his work can become a comfort place.

ᯓ★ 5H Ruler in 11H can mean he can become very inspired by his friends. But it can mean having a crush on someone online, on a friend, etc.

ᯓ★ 6H Ruler in 8H can mean JK's routine at work will change, transform this year. He can do new projects that will make him go out of his comfort zone he was used to in his career. Since JK will go out of Military in June 2025, this can also translate change in his career (Military to being a Singer again).

ᯓ★ 7H Ruler in 10H is a change in relationships! JK can have a sudden change in his relationships, but also this can mean he will change his contract with HYBE perhaps.

ᯓ★ 8H Ruler in 8H is a sign of having a deep transformation. JK can change a lot of things about himself this year, perhaps it's a year JK will change his appearance, his relationship with his fans, he can also change his career, goals. He will not be the same man. Though, this is part of the process. He can also discover more about himself this year.

ᯓ★ 9H Ruler in 11H can mean having long distance friendships, perhaps he can have friends who live abroad lol. Or he can also be away from his friends and mostly communicate online with them. He can learn a lot on social medias in general, if he wanna learn or study something, internet will be his best friend! He can also be truly inspired by his relationships and friends.

ᯓ★ 10H Ruler in 2H can mean making more money because of work. JK can happen to do a change in his career that will bring him more money for sure. He can change his aesthetic at work too.

ᯓ★ 11H Ruler in 1H can mean JK can be more present on social medias this year, or he can change his aesthetic online too. He can also be more talked about online.

ᯓ★ 12H Ruler in 12H means it can be a more spiritual year for JK. JK can be more spiritual. He can feel more alone, and desire to be more alone, on his own. He can also be more private about what he feels this year. This is also an indicator of sleeping more.

Thank you for reading!

back to index ; ask ; request ; rules

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Hi lovely Kat, congrats to 2K followers! 🥳❤️

I would like to request a post-war drabble taking place during Levi's first birthday after the Rumbling. The reader knows about her pregnancy for a couple of weeks but decides to keep it a secret until his birthday. They could have a nice celebratory dinner with the 104th kids, Gabi, Falco and Onyankopon, and the reader decides to break the big news to Levi just after they leave.

thank you rose!! i also accidentally turned this into a oneshot bc i couldn't get myself to decide how i wanted levi to react and ended up word vomiting as a result ksdjfksdjf

World's Grumpiest Dad | 2K Follower Event | Post-War Dadvi Oneshot

✧ word count ➼ ~1.1k ✧ notes ➼ post-war, fluff

The lights were pretty at this time of night.

You began wheeling Levi back from the diner after waving goodbye to some of the 104th, Gabi, Falco, and Onyankopon. They had visited to grab dinner at a nice restaurant in celebration of Levi's birthday, much to his own disdain. Of course he was grumpy the entire night, just from the fact that he wasn't expecting to get all of this attention throughout the day. It was draining—but it was nice to see everyone in a setting that wasn't hauling ass trying to remedy all the damage from the Rumbling.

"Please tell me we're going home," he grumbled.

"Almost," you reassured. "Just going to stop at the dock first. Sunset's pretty."

Levi didn't protest against this change of plans. His evening strolls with you always played an important part in keeping him sane, especially throughout the height of the war.

You reached into your bag as you continued walking Levi forward, eventually pulling out a small box and setting it on Levi's lap.

You could physically see him hesitate, not having expected the sudden object to be handed to him out of nowhere.

"It's your birthday," you reminded, knowing that he was going to have this reluctant reaction. Levi was never a fan of gifts, but this one was important.

"It's going to clutter the house."

"You don't even know what it is yet."

He let out an exasperated sigh, slowly opening the top of the cardboard box. There wasn't any wrapping around the box and there wasn't any filling inside. It was just a plain box with a singular object resting within it: a handmade mug with one of those uneven handles that indicated that you were likely the one that made this at some shoddy pottery studio, which added to its charm.

"What's wrong with the ones we have at home?"

It's not that he didn't like it, he just didn't see the need for an extra mug in your kitchen cabinet.

You groaned as you rolled your eyes.

"Just read it, you asshole."

He pulled the mug out of the box and turned it so that he could see the text that was carefully painted onto it in your handwriting:

"World's Grumpiest Dad"

You couldn't see his face, but you were able to essentially imagine the furrowing of his eyebrows from the confusion that was no doubt running through his mind.

His body posture visibly changed once he realized—he sat a bit further back into his chair, his clenched jaw relaxed, and you even heard a small gasp escape his lips.

"...you're pregnant."

You turned his wheelchair so that he was facing the horizon and took a seat next to him on the nearby bench that you had wheeled him next to. Giving him a small smile, you nodded, eyeing him intensely for how he was going to react to the big news.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Just got confirmation a little while ago, but wanted to save it as a surprise."

You could tell that he was struggling to process. The two of you weren't particularly trying for a kid, but mutually agreed that if it happened, then it happened.

He switched his gaze from your eyes and back down to the mug to reread the text.

"...'m gonna be a dad," he mumbled, although it wasn't clear what emotion was behind it. You couldn't tell if he was happy or not, which was only adding to your nerves.

Levi looked back up at you, his eyes softening once he saw the concern in yours.

Having a kid was never really something he imagined for himself, although this was primarily because he couldn't afford the luxury of imagining the concept of the Titan-free world that you were in. It always provided him and the rest of your comrades the drive to keep fighting, but the idea of settling down in a world that was safe from man-eating Titans—a world in which you could birth and raise a child in peace—never crossed his mind for him.

"You're going to be the world's grumpiest dad," you corrected, trying to lighten the mood in an attempt to dispel your own anxiety in addition to the hesitant look he was wearing.

It worked to some extent, with his eyebrows coming together again into a frown.

"I'm not grumpy."

"Then why are you frowning?" you challenged.

"That's just my face, you brat."

He barely got to finish his sentence before you planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"It's okay," you whispered with a small smile. "I like you grumpy. I'm sure our kid will like it too. It's part of your charm."

You were too close to be able to see the slight hint of color rising to his cheeks at your comment, but you could tell that it affected him as soon as he averted his gaze.

"What is it?" you asked as you tilted your head at him.

Levi immediately cleared his throat and shook his head in an attempt to suppress how flustered he had just gotten over your comment.

"Nothing."

He handed you the mug and began to push himself up from the wheelchair, which immediately got your attention.

"Need to stretch," he grumbled. "Been sitting in that damn thing for hours."

You watched as he walked over to the dock railings, noting that his limp wasn't as noticeable, likely because he hadn't been putting strain on his knee for the past few hours since he's been more or less just sitting throughout dinner and your stroll here. Sighing, you placed the mug back into the box and placed it securely on the bench before walking up next to him.

The wind was blowing through his dark locks, causing it to fall perfectly back onto his head due to his undercut, tempting you to run your fingers through it if you didn't already know that Levi was just going to shoo your hand away.

There was a hint of concern in his one good eye. The frown lines were present despite his expression being soft, and his lips were slightly turned downwards—not enough to be a frown, but noticeable enough that you knew what was on his mind.

"You're going to be a great dad."

Levi's eyes widened as his lips parted in surprise, not expecting you to come in with the reassurance. You were right in that his unease over his own ability to be a good parent was what was bugging him, even though he knew that the anxiety was ultimately unfounded, given his interactions with the kids he had basically helped to raise to some extent—the 104th, Isabel, and even Gabi and Falco.

He placed his hand over your lower belly before looking back up into your eyes, his lip turning up subtly before whispering to you.

"I know."

#: @chaotic-on-main @levisbrat25 @leviismybby @moonmalice @averysmolbear @cathybarn @tclbts @emiwhore @bejewelledd @sad-darksoul @ackermendick @aomi04 @apolloshaiku @laraackerman @pulpolicia @raenacreates @nube55 @saenora @noctemys @sixpennydame @sleepyfairyxo @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @catskze @nixie-writes-aot @la-undercover-latina @v4mp-wife @darkstarlight82 @professorweezy @braunsbabe @levis-squishy-cheeks @dumbfound-princess @evas-leslas @deepzombieyouth @lovedbylevi join my taglist! and please lmk if you wanna be taken off

[cryonme]

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐀𝐭 𝐔𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

—graham dunne x fem!reader

—summary: the story of you and graham dunne was never simple, but his love for you never faltered.

— word count: 2.7k

—tw: addiction, implied drugging, alcohol, cursing, reader says she "doesn't wanna be here anymore", very obvious signs of mental illness, the works...

—a/n: so... I did not intend for this fic to be this long or this sad, but here we are. I'm breaking it into two parts so its easier to read, part two is coming shortly!! I apologize for how sad this is lol but I promise its a happy ending story! also, sorry for how I wrote daisy! she's my girl and I love her, it was just for the plot I swear! this is the first fic I've posted in about 6 months so im rusty, please be kind! and please, don't read if anything listed in the triggers is going to upset you, I want you all happy and comfortable! XO

(flashbacks in italics)

Nothing was ever Daisy’s fault, was it?

At least, that’s what Graham Dunne thought when he got a call from Karen saying his girl was wasted at a party with Daisy attached to your hip.

She should have known what you were struggling with, she should have known that you couldn’t handle a party, she should have known this wasn’t what you needed. Daisy Jones should’ve fucking known.

To be completely fair, they really all should’ve known. You’d been around since day 1. Everyone knew better, Daisy just happened to be the red corvette.

-

“You can’t keep doing this, my love.” Camilla whispered oh so gently, holding your hair back from your face, pressing a cold rag to your neck.

It was a small gig, at some shitty bar called Tony’s in Pittsburgh. The band always had a couple beers and maybe a shot or two before a show but you had begun to need more. You snuck vodka into your water bottles and begged the bartenders to sneak you a couple free extras by pulling your top down and leaning over the bar, using your forearms to push your tits up. 

It worked every time. Pigs.

“Can do whatever I want.” You slurred, cheek pressed to the toilet seat.

But damnit, you knew she was right.

Tony’s wasn’t the first time.

There was Rod’s, and The Ladie’s Room, and The Shiner Saloon, and some girl named Lisa’s 18th birthday party. It was becoming a pattern, everyone could tell.

You always went back to your house after a show. Your parents had been completely absent since you were 15, you never knew where they were. And after every show, their cars were never once in the driveway.

A safespace.

Billy would sit outside of the bathroom, head leaning against the door while Graham waited in the living room, arms crossed and head down, not wanting to listen to your cries and shakes of pain.

Eddie would retreat to the guest room, but he usually wouldn’t be able to fall asleep til he heard the click of your door next to his.

Warren would be passed out on the couch as soon as you all walked through the door, not that he didn’t care about you immensely, but the poor kid could just not stay awake if he was tired.

“I wanna go to bed.” You said.

Camilla sighed, “Are you sure you’re ready?”

You nodded and so did Camilla. She got up to get Billy like she always did, and he’d come and pick you up off of the bathroom floor, as he always did, and carry you to your room and lay you on the bed, letting Camilla make sure you’re comfortable, like she always did.

Graham would come in and ask how you’re doing, like he always did, and he’d make himself comfortable on your floor with throw pillows and spare blankets, like he always did.

But that night, after Tony’s, things changed.

“I can’t do this anymore, Graham.” You whimpered.

Fuck.

This was early days, Graham was still awkward as hell and didn’t know how to go about things like this.

“Do what?” He croaked, mustering up the courage to be there for you.

“This. I can’t live like this. I’m afraid I’m gonna kill myself.”

Graham was up in an instant, reaching for the doorknob. “Do you want me to get Camilla?”

You shook your head, “No, please. Just-” You wiped a tear from your cheek, “Will you just lay with me?”

“Anything.” Graham breathed as he settled into bed next to you. You immediately wrapped your arms around him, being too drunk to care about any awkwardness and Graham was thankful.

“We’ll get you out of this, promise.”

-

That was the last time anybody saw you drink anything besides a beer or two, following that was shirley temples and cherry cokes.

Nobody really knew the heaviness of addiction then, but they knew that you were happier, and that’s all that really mattered to them. You were even laughing at Warren’s jokes and Billy and Eddie’s lame bickering, everything felt okay.

“You don’t drink?” Karen had asked, the first time you properly met in California, while she was digging through the fridge searching for a beer. You shook your head, hoping you weren’t going to get some crazy reaction like you were a zoo animal in a cage like you got from most people.

She just nodded, a small smile playing at her lips as she pulled two coca cola bottles from the fridge, popping them open with her ring and handing you one.

“Cheers to that.”

You were sober enough to realize you were in love with Graham, and confident enough to tell him. And man, he could’ve exploded.

There was a celebration, at the house in Laurel Canyon, just the 7 of you.

Warren recalls later that Graham looked like he’d been dipped in sunshine and rainbows.

“Like he’d just smoked sunshine and been fucked by a rainbow. It was crazy, man.”

Well, almost.

You’d been around the band multiple times while they drank and it was never a problem. You’d have the first round of beers with them then tap out, but you always stayed and had fun, smoked a couple joints and cigarettes, never without a mocktail or coca cola in your hand. Sometimes, usually Karen or Camilla, someone would join you on the sober night, and that always felt really nice.

That night had felt different, you were scared.

-

“I’m gonna fuck him up Warren…” You said as you laid on the floor with the drummer as Down By The Seaside by Led Zeppelin played from the record player, Warren laughed.

“Yeah you are.” He said, his tone suggestive as he bumped his elbow with yours.

You rolled your eyes, fighting the heat creeping into your cheeks. “You know what I mean, man. I’m gonna ruin him.”

Warren had known you long enough and listened to enough of the songs you wrote to where he’d like to think he knew you pretty well.

And you never opened up out of the blue unless you were drunk.

“Have you been drinking?” He asked, not looking up from the ceiling. You scoffed.

“I still have a beer here and there, Warren.”

“You know what I mean, man.” He repeated your words back to you and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“I’m going to bed.” You said and stood up, trying your hardest not to stumble or slur.

“Honey…” Warren started, pushing himself off of the floor to try to stop you.

“NO!” You whipped around, flipping your hair so forcefully it stung your face but you were quick to pull it back.

“Don’t fucking- don’t fucking do that, man!” You started, holding a hand up. “My own friends don’t even fucking trust me i’m just constantly babied! Do you know how that feels?”

At that point, Karen, Eddie and Billy had tuned in, being in the kitchen. Camilla and Graham must have been elsewhere, he had always confided in her like a sister.

“Hey–” Billy tried to interject with a hand on your wrist but you were quick to pull away.

“Huh?! Do any of you know how that feels?!” You were borderline screaming now, and everyone was speaking to you so softly, hands slowly trying to grasp you and it made you want to scream even louder.

“How dare you ‘ccuse me of something like that asshole?” You were beginning to slur your words, the tequila you’d snuck from Warren’s room starting to hit pretty heavily, making your eyes droop and words slur.

“Baby, please-” Karen started, making the move to grasp your arm but you turned and lost your balance, nearly falling but Eddie was quick to catch you, he held on tight and didn’t dare let go until you calmed down or Graham came back. Billy had left minutes ago to find him and Camilla, who had taken a walk so he could freely gush about his new girl without the chances of anyone else hearing.

“Need you to calm down, babe.” Eddie whispered, running a hand up and down your arm for comfort.

“None of you even care!”

Warren shook his head alongside Karen, both of them had squatted in front of you, doing their best to provide what you needed.

“That’s not true.”

“I fucking hate you all!” 

“You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t wanna be here anymore!”

And then he said your name.

You froze.

He was gonna leave you, you were so sure of it. You worked so hard to be better for him and it didn’t work.

“No…” You whimpered and you swore you saw Graham break in front of your eyes.

“You can’t- you can’t see this.”

But he didn’t care. He knelt in front of you and Eddie and gathered you into his own arms, completely silent as he carried you to his room and you wanted to disappear into him so badly.

“‘M so sorry…” You slurred, and still he was quiet. You let him undress you and replace your pretty top and flared jeans with his own tee shirt and boxer shorts.

You watched as he changed into a similar outfit as you picked at your nails. “Graham, I-”

He sighed and placed his hands on either sides of your cheeks, placing a firm kiss on your forehead that only made you cry harder. You brought your hands up to grip his wrists, not willing to let go of the feeling of his lips on your skin.

“I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

Graham was silent again as he pulled you into his bed with him, covering you both with the large duvet.

“Not in the slightest.”

-

That night was really the last night anybody had seen you get drunk like that.

Then, Daisy Jones came along.

And you learned how to keep bad habits a secret.

Tequila and mints in the bathroom, water and cherry cokes with the band. A shot of jameson to fall asleep. Champagne to wake up, brush your teeth. A beer in the shower after lunch, leave the evidence in Warren’s room since there were hundreds of empty ones anyway.

It’s not like Daisy was teaching you one on one, you just started watching her, and you liked the way she got away with it.

No one told Daisy about your issue either, you could hold your own and you had asked them not to, so lips were sealed.

But it took everything in Graham and Billy not to tell her to tread lightly every time they saw the two of you sneak off on your own.

And now here was Graham Dunne, sitting in the driver's seat of the van outside of God knows who’s house, with Camilla in the passenger’s seat and Billy in the back. Moral support. 

“Want us to come with you?”

Graham shook his head. “I need to do this alone.”

Billy scoffed, “I’m not gonna let you go in there with our two hot headed alcoholic rage sisters. Cam, you stay here.”

“Nope, you go I go. You two get our girl, I’ll handle Daisy.”

The three bickered a moment but finally settled on their plan. Graham and Camilla would take you, while Karen and Billy took Daisy, since the blonde girl drove.

“Fucking finally.” Karen exasperated as she saw her friends walk into the backyard of the party while trying her hardest to hold you upright.

“Where is Daisy?” Billy spat immediately, making eyes around the party. You had always been like a sister to him, in the way Camilla was to Graham, and he could’ve killed the redheaded girl in that moment.

“Beats me.” Karen said, passing off your deadweight into Graham, who was quickly supported by Billy. Your head lulled onto your boyfriend's shoulder, recognizing him as a source of comfort even in your inebriated state.

It made his soul ache.

“Is Simone here?” Camilla asked.

Karen shook her head, “Was. Split as soon as she and Daisy got into a fight. Offered to take this one” she nodded her head at you “home with her but I figured it’d be best if you guys came.”

Graham shook his head, “You made the right call, thank you.”

“Yeah, well uh, I sure as hell can’t drive. Got drunk as hell before even stepping foot in the backyard, soon as I saw (Y/n) I stepped in and called you guys immediately.”

“Do we need to get Daisy?”

“That’s a fight you sure as hell don’t wanna have. Yelled at me just for taking ‘her best friend’ away from her to get her some water.”

Billy rolled his eyes.

Graham and Billy began making their way out of the party with you slung around their shoulders, and Camilla walking arm in arm with a very drunk Karen who kept tripping over feet.

And suddenly red hair and sparkling eyes were in front of them.

“Ohhh no, what happened to my girl?” She tried to touch your face but Billy pulled you away, ready to say something before Graham spoke up, surprising everyone.

“Your girl, Daisy?!” His voice boomed, no doubt you’d be embarrassed if you were in any way conscious. “This is my girl, our girl.” He gestured to the rest of the group. “And I’d say it’s in your best interest to leave her the hell alone from now on.”

-

Graham was a mess when he got you home.

Daisy ended up at the house not too long after the rest, explaining she didn’t know the situation, apologizing profusely, informing them all you had been drinking for months. She told them in a sullen voice that you hadn’t been this bad last time she saw her, that she thinks someone must have done it to you.

Graham understood, he did. But he couldn’t look at Daisy. How could she let you out of her sight, to allow someone to do this to you? It made his stomach turn. Billy was next to his brother this time, in the living room, a hand resting on his shoulder, squeezing from time to time, and instead of standing Graham sat with his head in his hands, creating knots in his hair as he ran his fingers through it. Cam and Karen had you in the bathroom, after seeing the panic in Graham’s eyes they decided to take over that part, knowing it wouldn’t be easy for him to see. Warren stayed up, and Eddie didn’t retreat to his room, Daisy paced back and forth outside of the bathroom, biting her nails. Graham could hear it, it was driving him nuts.

“Would it kill you to be quiet for two seconds, Daisy?!” He groaned, running a hand over his red splotchy face.

Everyone knew that Graham was just upset and taking it out on Daisy, the red corvette, which wasn’t exactly fair, but they also knew better than to argue with Graham at that point.

“You know what, Graham?!” Daisy stomped into the living room, planting herself in front of the Dunne brothers with her arms crossed.

Graham didn’t look up.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!” Daisy used her thumb and pointer finger to grip his chin and pull his face up to look at her and she immediately felt guilty at his tear stained cheeks and glassy eyes.

She sighed, and crouched before him.

“I know it’s hard, and I’m so, so sorry this is happening to her. But she makes her own decisions, Graham. No one could’ve stopped her.”

Graham nodded, but still wouldn’t look in her direction. “Will you go check on her, please?”

Daisy would later tell the story with a frown on her face, and she’d recall never being that scared for another person before, despite the smile she put on for Graham.

“I didn’t-” She took a breath, “I’d never seen it that bad before, at least not while I was sober. I thought she was going to die.”

Daisy retreated to yours and Graham’s shared room shortly after discovering she couldn’t stomach staying in that bathroom, deciding to make herself useful by getting the bed ready, fluffing the pillows and retrieving some fresh clothes for you to wear to bed, making sure she grabbed ones that smelled like your boyfriend. She dropped the clothes off in the bathroom, and passed along the message to Graham from Karen and Camilla that it was time to take you to bed.

This had been Billy’s job, since before The Six was even The Six, that’s how it went. But things had changed, Graham had grown, and it was his turn.

part two coming soon!

[junniieesbby]

Where The Fuck Are They? |Choi Yeonjun

Pairing: Idol Yeonjun x F!reader

Genre: Established Relationship, Smut, Kind of Fluff. 

WC:  1.6K 

Rating: 18+ MDNI 

Summary: You try to tease your idol boyfriend at a music Festival by leaving your panties in his pocket. Only he gets angry when he finds out and your plan backfires on you and he does all the teasing. 

Warning: Mentions of alcohol, and food. Smut with a plot.  Lots of pet names (baby, good girl, princess, pretty), slight Brat/Brat-tamer. Calling Yeonjun Sir. Ass grabbing.Female getting fingered. Slight Edging. Hickies, somewhat of agoraphilia except its just fingering in a public place. Mentions of fucking.Degradation. Mentions of oral (Female receiving). I think that is about it. I don't know if I missed any. Let me know if I did!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Nothing mentioned in this fiction represents any of the characters.

A/N: Have had this thought written down since the Lollapalooza and finally got around to writing it and posting it. This is also part of @majestyjun's 24 days with yeonjun birthday event! 💗I hope you guys enjoy reading this and thank you to all who were interested in it prior I made sure to tag you. 🫶🏼

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Music festivals were always something you looked forward to attending. This year was extra special because your boyfriend would be performing as a headliner at one of the biggest music festivals, Lollapalooza. To say you were proud was an understatement; you were so happy to see him achieve all his goals and reach his dreams one day at a time. To watch him perform at Lollapalooza last year and to see that he would be headlining this year really made you the proudest girlfriend.

The festival grounds were alive with all the excitement, vibrant colors, the aroma of festival food, and, of course, the smell of booze. Yeonjun and you have decided to enjoy the festival and see Kendrick Lamar's performance. You were wearing a short skirt with a white crop top, your red heart chucks converse, black choker, and jewelry. Underneath all of that, you had put on Yeonjun’s favorite lingerie set.

As you are walking around holding hands with your boyfriend, you have a very risky and exciting idea, but you aren’t sure whether to go through with it. After some time, you decided to just do it and see where this crazy thought of yours would lead you. You went on your tippy toes to kiss Yeonjun on the cheek, letting him know you would be using the bathroom. His face kind of scrunched up in confusion because he knew you hated public restrooms, especially festival ones, but didn’t pay much attention to it. Little did he know that all you wanted to do was put your plan into action. You stepped into the bathroom and wanted to do this as quickly as possible. You took your lace panties off, scrunched them up, and left the bathroom to find him standing there waiting for you. You went close to him, and he put an arm around your shoulder to lead you through the crowd. You had a habit of placing your hand in his back pocket, and you did exactly that, ensuring your panties were safe in his pocket.

As the sun began to set, Yeonjun took you to the stage where Kenderick Lamar would be performing. "Are you excited to see his performance, baby?" He whispers in your ear while bringing his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest, and resting his chin on your shoulder. "I am excited, but I’m more excited to see your performance. I know you will rock your performance like always." You tell him while turning your head and leaving a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, baby. I know I can do anything with you in the crowd." He squeezes the hold he has on you tighter, showing his affection through his touch.

The whole time you were watching the performance, you were playing with your shoe laces to get them to untie so you could move your plan along. Once it got really dark outside and everyone was too busy enjoying the performance and their alcohol, you knew it was now or never. Your shoelace was successfully untied. “Jjun, my shoelace is untied; could you tie it for me, please? My skirt is kind of short. Otherwise, I would do it myself." You whisper in his ear. “Sure, baby, anything for you." He moves in front of you and goes on his knee to tie your shoe. As he finishes and gets up, he glances over to see your pussy out in the open. The only thing covering it was your short skirt.

He didn’t want to make anything noticeable, so he got up and went into the same position he was in earlier, with his hands around your waist and his face buried in the crook of your neck. He left a kiss right below your earlobe and whispered "Where are they?" You knew exactly what he was referring to, but you wanted to play dumb. "Where is what, baby?" You asked him with an innocent tone. "Don’t fucking play dumb; where the fuck are your panties?" You loved to get on his nerves. “Oh, those things? Silly me, I think I lost them." You started grinding your ass on his half hard length.

He then held your hips in place so you would no longer grind your ass on him. To him, two could play this game, and he sure as hell wanted to win. "I will ask you one last time, where are your fucking  panties?" He tells you as he gets ahold of one of your cheeks and squeezes it until you let out a yelp. "In your back pocket, Jjunnie, in your back pocket," you quickly tell him. He reached in his pocket and grabbed your panties and gave them to you while whispering, "Put them back on." You could not believe him. "No," you cross your arms, pouting. "Stop being such a brat and put them on," he whispers once again. "No, I don’t feel like it." The moment those words left your mouth, he quickly shoved the panties in his back pocket again. "Alright, you want to act like a brat; prepare to be treated like one." He starts to roam his hands all over your body.

"Mmmh, what will you do about it, sir?" you asked him seductively. He felt his dick twitch in his pants at your name for him. He thought he would just show you what brats like you get and deserve. He knew in no time you would be begging for his cock, which he had every intention of keeping away from you for as long as possible.

He wrapped his left hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him, which earned him a soft moan from you. He looked around to see everyone paying attention to the artist before he brought his right hand under your skirt and separated your soaking wet folds. "My whore is really wet for me, isn’t she?" he says, inserting two fingers in while his thumb rubs at your clit. You wanted to say something so bad, but you knew once you spoke, a moan would come out instead, and you didn’t want random people to notice the naughty behavior going around them. To anyone else, you both looked like a couple being cozy together. You thanked alcohol for making everyone around you too buzzed to notice.

His fingers were going painfully slow, and he was sucking hickies into your neck. "Sir, fast- faster, please," you begged him as he continued his slow pace. "Only good girls get what they want." His husky voice makes your arousal expand. You slowly started to grind on his hand, but he knew your motive. He quickly pinches your clit causing you to stop your movement.

He dove his fingers inside of you, this time moving faster than before and you were in true bliss. "Don't make a fuckin sound okay; be my good girl and stay quiet," he continues finger-fucking you. All you did was nod as he increased his pace. You were biting your lip to stop yourself from becoming a moaning mess underneath his touch. You were so close that your walls started to clench around his fingers, and just as you were about to go into a euphoric state, he pulled his fingers out. He grabbed your chin, turned your head to look at him, and put his fingers in his mouth, licking your juices clean.

You were in pure and utter shock that he did not just stop right before you were going to come. You wanted so badly to wipe that smug smile off his face, but you knew you were the reason you were in this state. All you could do was turn in his arms and kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. "Sir, why did you stop? I was being a good girl like you asked" you said, looking at him with puppy eyes. "Good girls don’t take their panties off mid-festival and place them in their boyfriend's pocket." He grabs both ass cheeks while looking down at you with a smirk. 

You wanted to tell him he could fuck off, but knowing him, he wouldn’t fuck you for the whole week if you did. "Jjun, please make me feel good again. Please fuck me. I need you so badly." You decided to plead with him. One thing about Yeonjun was that he couldn’t deny his princess anything. Whatever his princess wanted, she would get it. He especially couldn't tell her no when she looked at him with such pleading eyes that it made his cock harder than a rock. "How about this princess, You be good for the rest of the festival, and Sir will fuck your brains out how you like. I will fuck you so good that you might need me to carry you for the next few days. Maybe eat that sweet pussy of yours until you come all over my mouth. Just be my good, pretty girl for a little longer so I can reward you. Mmm, how does that sound? '' He started stroking your ass while looking at you with lust and hunger.

"I would love that very much, baby." You stand on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his lips. With him being hard and impatient, it didn't take long for him to just grab you, take you back to the hotel room, and fuck you into next week.

Taglist: @hanniejie @boba-beom @lovejoshua @yo-yo-yeonjun @ttyunz @choistick @kazscara @love-be0m @xenkimmie @toiletfeet68 @txt-yaomi @mochijjunie @ariam-96 @hyukasbestie @takemehye @nightlytyuns and @robin-obsessed @baljinciaga (I thought you might want to see this) ♥︎

If you are interested in being in my permanent txt taglist please go here and fill the form out.

if you are reading this look at my last # for a little something!

[promptedwordsmith]

I have a request my birthday is on March 3 so can you write something with the LDS boys?!?

Hi, thanks for the ask! I wasn't sure what you wanted me to write since I've already done a birthday post so I hope you don't mind what I chose instead! Happy birthday!!

(ps I also gave Caleb a shot as an extra treat I hope that's OK!)

LADS guys when you get injured

Rafayel:

Is furious but he’s not sure at who, you? The wanderer? Himself? He can’t believe it happened, it could have been so much worse, you could have died and what was he doing? Painting peacefully in his studio.

Is very clingy for the next few weeks, appearing at your door to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, and that’s after you had convinced him to not just sleep at your apartment.

When the doctor declares you fit to go back to work Rafayel refuses and makes you go for a second opinion, claiming the first is delusional, claiming you still had a slight limp and if you limped on the battlefield it could get you killed.

Claims he needs to nurse you back to health and he doesn’t tease you as much, he’s quite serious actually.

Tries to make you foods that are good for healing, three meals a day and thinks you don’t notice when he slips out to call the nutritionist he hired and collect the food from the chef.

Xavier:

Everything considered, he would give you the silent treatment while tenderly taking care of you, he’s supposed to be your partner at work and outside of work so why were you out there without him? If he had been there the wanderer wouldn’t have had even the slightest chance of hurting you like it did.

He’s constantly thinking about what could have happened and is more driven than ever to be there when you needed him.

When he did start talking to you again, he made sure to drill into your head how it made him feel for you to not even think of getting his help, that he understood you were strong and capable but that he was always available, he knows he could have made a difference and it’s never too safe to bring back up.

Makes sure you go to doctors’ appointments; he may not take proper care of himself, but everything be damned before he let you work yourself to death with this injury.

 Tries to make you food but quickly learns if he wants you to be stationary and comfortable, he should not even approach the kitchen, opting to order the healthiest takeaways he can, sulking a bit you don’t trust him with the oven.

Zayne:

As your doctor he’s startled when you appear with a large injury, but he’s instantly more comfortable when he finds its mainly just superficial, doesn’t stop him from lecturing you about how you could let that happen.

Makes you go through every test he can justify you getting to check there’s no poison or corruption or anything that could risk your life in anyway and pays special attention to your heart.

He’s now more concerned for your safety, especially about if this is going to be more common and starts researching wanderers and whether they were getting stronger or smarter to cause this, start keeping up with any news on wanderer evolution.

Schedules a few more appointments for you than is really necessary but since its large he justifies it as a higher chance of infection because of its location, even though he’s busy he just extends his working hours to see you in a professional capacity or if he can’t do that because of working laws he’ll come see you as soon as his shifts are over to check on it.

When he’s sure you’re healed he reluctantly signs you fit for duty and gives you a stern lecture about avoiding those types of injuries in the future.

Caleb:

Doesn't hear about it for a while because he's occupied by his job, but the second he does he's desperately calling you and texting you, all while booking time off, a flight back and buying you get well soon gifts.

As soon as he's home, he's giving you a big hug asking how you are, what happened, "what does the other guy look like?" in a teasing tone.

Promises he's sticking around for at least a week, preferably until you're feeling better though, and makes you all your favourite food while he's there, insisting you stay at your grandma's while you recover so they can both dote on you.

Let's you talk his ear off, spends the whole time reminiscing with you and doing things you did together when you were younger, just being more careful with you of course.

When you eel better and before he leaves he makes you promise not to get hurt again any time soon, and makes sure you know he'll tease you like crazy if you do, ruffling your hair before he goes.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Birthday Shenanigans

Stephen King: boy, looks like that bungler elon musk really bungled it again! King: another rocket exploded! boy! Elon Musk: [appearing from ushes] eyyy Stephano king Musk: you thinka you so smart? Musk: whatsa matta for you?? Musk: i breaka you face!!!

Musk: checka dis out [Elon posts an AI image, again it is unclear what it is supposed to be] King: oh yeah uh King: i still don't know what that is King: joe what is that Joe Hill: i can't help you this time, dad

Musk: eyyyy brazil, you thinka you can enforca laws? Musk: checka dis out! [elon posts poop emoji, Brazil bans twitter] Musk: mama mia!!! Musk: dissa spicy meatball!!

Musk: dissa take ALLA my genius brainapower to meme outta dis one! Musk: [takes extra big bump of ketamine]

King: whoa elon i don't think a person is supposed to take that much ketamine Musk: shut uppa you face Stephano king! Musk: you thinka you know about takinga too many drugs? King: King: yeah i kinda think i do

Mary Shelley: sup fuckers? Poe: oh mary it's you Poe: steve is talking to his friend elon again King: for the last time, we're not friends! Shelley: you want me to take care of this, steve? Shelley: i can make it look like an accident

Poe: now mary there's no need for violence Shelley: i didn't say i need to do violence Shelley: i said i want to do violence Shelley: its my fuckin birthday Shelley: so i get a fuckin treat, okay?

Barker: wasn't your birthday yesterday? Shelley: yeah and what did you all get me? Poe: Barker: king: Lovecraft: Koontz: i drew you this picture of Frankendog

Koontz: he's like Frankenstein but a dog Koontz: i thought he would be better as a dog :) Shelley: yes dean i remember Shelley: that was real nice Shelley: so for that, you're exempt from paying the penalty

Poe: the penalty? Shelley: yeah since you all forgot my birthday Shelley: i get to punch each of you Shelley: in the dick Poe: now come on mary Barker: don't argue with her edgar, we're getting off easy

Shelley: step right up, who's goin first? Shelley: how but you, 2 gun bob? you think you got some brass ones? Howard: now hold on thar, parda- [Shelley punches Robert E Howard, he doubles over] Poe: oh no! 2 Gun Bob! Lovecraft: 2 Gun Bob! Barker: 2 gun Bob! King: 2 Gun Bob!

Shelley: who's next eh? i ain't got all day! Barker: how about jack? Jack Ketchum: Shelley: Ketchum: Shelley: Ketchum: Shelley: yeah i'll pass on that Ketchum: smart choice

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

About the order of the dormitories.

Is it confirmed that Heartslabyul is the first because it's inspired by Alice in Wonderland? (I always thought it was that, but now I'm in doubt).

And about book 2 initially being book 6. This creates a pattern in which 2nd graders are the first to overblot and then 3rd graders.

(I don't know if my age calculations are correct).

And, following this logic, it would also be from the youngest boy to the oldest: Riddle (birthday in August, and if the school year starts in September, he turned 16 (minimum age) just before going to the NRC), Azul, (birthday in February), Jamil (born 12 days after the start of the school year in September, so he had to wait a bit longer to go, (I think I saw somewhere that this is canonical?)) Vil, (birthday in April, before September, so probably didn't have to wait an extra year to turn 16) Idia, (birthday in December, after September, so probably should have waited longer to turn 16). So we have Leono aged 20 and Malleus aged 178.

And with the current dorm order, the Disney villains vary: Female (QoH), male (Scar), female (Ursula), male (Jafar), female (Evil Queen), male (Hades), female (Maleficent).

I'm not sure if that makes sense?

Any chance it's deliberate?

(Sorry for any mistakes, I don't speak English and I'm using a translator).

[Referencing this post!]

Again, I couldn’t find any confirmation as to why the dorm order is the way it is; that is inclusive of Heartslabyul. I think you may just be assuming Heartslabyul is first because it’s the one inspired by Alice in Wonderland (for which the franchise is named, hence Twisted Wonderland). (Personally, I would think that a franchise named that would feature the Alice in Wonderland dorm as the final one, not the first.)

Your calculations are correct; if we assume the dorm trailer reveal order is the original “intended” order, then the story would progress in order of youngest second year to oldest second year (Riddle, Azul, Jamil), then youngest third year to oldest third year (Vil, Idia, Leona, Malleus). While there isn’t strong evidence that this is deliberate, I think it’s interesting to consider the pattern of gradually aging through the lens of book 7, whose conflict kicks off because Malleus is so afraid of change and losing his loved ones to time. When the main story itself is subtly posed to indicate a student slowly aging up into adulthood and leaving their peaceful school days behind… Yeah, it’s melancholic in a way 😞

With the current order, we do in fact see an alternating pattern of female-male Great Seven members. It’s unclear whether this pattern was intentional or not, as TWST doesn’t really have a strong gender-based theme to its overall narrative.

What I do think is slightly more believable is that the manga!Yuus may have intentionally been designed as the opposite gender of the G7 member whose book they feature in. Male Yuuken is the Yuu for Heartslabyul (Queen of Hearts), female Yuuka is the Yuu for Savanaclaw (King of Beasts), and male Yuuta is the Yuu for Octavinelle (Sea Witch). We’re going to have to see if this pattern keeps up for future Yuus, as it’s possible that they mix things up (for example, maybe we’ll get a nonbinary Yuu!). Right now, I think an argument could be made that they “flipped” the genders for the manga!Yuus to “mirror” their respective G7 member. (TWST has a LOT of mirror imagery.)

[birdiescanfly]

Jake Deserves Nice Things

Okay, so this calls back to the backstory I was thinking for Jake in my last post, but I had some more thoughts and wanted to share.

Having grown up poor, Jake’s didn’t have a lot of time or money for luxuries so I’m thinking as an adult, he can’t get enough of nice things. Like, he’s a soft boy okay?  He loves big blankets (those really soft ones), he adores those fancy college sweatshirts that are so easy to swamp himself in, and anywhere there is like tiny stupid knickknacks to buy, he picks up and inspects every single one of them, because now he CAN, okay? So yeah, he wants those things, but he doesn’t NEED them.  Jake’s got big money issues.  He often sees something he wants or likes, and is soooo tempted to get it, but then puts down at the store and walks away. A little dejected and missing the spark of joy that he’d had while picking up everything he liked while in the store. It’s a painful cycle for Jake, but he can’t help it. It all derives from the fact that even though he has money now, he’s still living in the mindset of save and conserve because of the ‘just in case’ it doesn’t last. Like, “What if?” you know? Moreover, he just doesn’t think he deserves it.  Can’t imagine spending money on something he doesn’t NEED.  Like it’s a waste. He feels guilty for even wanting it in the first place. Why does he deserve such nice things?  Why is he so pathetic to even want it in the first place?

I think this even extends to buying a certain kind of granola bar he likes or taking long showers or even buying decorations for his house. It’s all unnecessary, and even if it would make him happy, he can’t bring himself to give that care to himself.  Even as he runs his hands over soft sheets and even softer throw blankets, even as he longingly studies café menus for fun drinks he’d like to try but can’t bring himself to buy over a 50 cent coffee, even as he freezes himself out of the shower in 45 seconds instead of savoring the experience, he just can’t bring himself to believe that he is worth the extra money it would all cost. Even if it’s only a little.   

I think it takes Bradley a little while to actually get it.  Jake, of course, doesn’t talk about it, probably doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s doing it to himself. And so at first, Bradley just thinks that Jake is really frugal and utilitarian. But there are signs that his boy is softer than he first expected. I’m thinking this is early in their first relationship (because we all know that they are exes in the present).  Bradley doesn’t quite figure it all out until when they get back together years later in their lives, but, Bradley does notice the harsh way Jake treats himself.  He doesn’t poke at it, he’s not opening about his own shit, why go poking around in Jake’s, but at one point during their stint together, (after they Uhaul lesbian it and move in together without talking about it), Bradley gets his first glimpse of how much Jake loves nice things.  So, Bradley originally did it as a joke, but maybe right before their first breakup (don’t know how it happens yet), Bradley gifts Jake with a stuffed Rooster plushie. Its one of the weighted ones that are super fluffy and soft, and he thinks its funny cause he happened to see it when shopping for a birthday card for Phoenix and couldn’t pass up the gag gift for his boyfriend.

jThe thing is, Jake loves it.  Like, he doesn’t show it at first, just rolls his eyes at Bradley’s smug smirk as he tells him “it’s so you don’t get too lonely when I’m deployed.” But in a turn of events that Bradley never expected, Jake’s eyes linger on the stuffed animal when he sits the object in front of the pillow on their bed. He catches the gentle way Jake sifts his fingers through the rooster’s soft fluff. And in the days that follow, its impossible to miss the way Jake’s hands linger when he carefully moves the Rooster from their bed in the evenings, or the way his eyes cut over to it longingly every so often. The real sticking point is when Bradley gets home late one night for some reason or another to find Jake curled up in their bed with the rooster plushie in his arms.  Jake is curled around the little stuffed animal, his cheek smooshed into the downy fluff, finger gripping tightly around its body as if it might disappear at any moment.  Even in his sleep, Jake cannot let rest his fear of loss. Bradley doesn’t say anything, doesn’t acknowledge his noticings to Jake in any way, but his hearts caves in on itself just a little at the tender way Jake handles such a simple thing as a stuffed toy. He has questions why an adult would cherish a little plushie so much despite acting the contrary, but the reason behind the act is a bit beyond Bradley’s current scope. Still, the knowledge that Jake likes soft and nice things despite his actions saying otherwise, is now cemented into Bradley’s mind.  Years later, this knowledge will come back to him, after time apart and bitterness and hurt the only thing keeping the other in his orbit, but still, the knowledge will come back. It will come back like a choking weight on his chest as he bunks with Jake for one reason or another, and sees a worn and torn stuffed rooster peeking out of Jake’s packing bag.