#Emi was WAY too hard to draw. when I say this took DAYS

[boyiwishiknewwhatiwasdoing]

[natromanxoff]

Record Mirror (December 14, 1974): 51/?

QUEEN KILLING THEM SOFTLY IN FRANKFURT

IT WAS, said the tall and studious Brian May, like playing to a vacuum cleaner. "We were just pouring it out and they (the audience) were sucking it in, with nothing coming back. I tell you, for the first time in many months I felt like I'd done a hard day's work when I came off stage."

May, along with the rest of the band, is sitting in the diner of Frankfurt's Why Not club reflecting on Queen's second date in Germany. The mood is not bad, but there's an undercurrent of steely determination following the difficulties of that night's gig.

The fact is, support band Lynyrd Skynyrd. were exactly what stoned-out Frankfurt wanted. As in England with Golden Earring, so in Germany with Queen, Lynyrd Skynyrd make an over-poweringly succesful support band. Here In Frankfurt there were even more difficulties for the English and. Most of the audience are American GI's, looking like inmates from the local borstal with their cropped hair and rippling muscles.

As you enter the 1100 capacity hall, the air is stuffed with the stench of dope — an intermingling of hash and grass and the sweat of a crowd at least 300 over the top.It's a strange place, former stock-exchange for farmers, complete with balcony, and surrounded by tropical plants.

Up on the balcony above the stage a group of Queen supporters self-consciously tap their feet to Skynyrd's rhythmic weave. Roger Taylor, ever grinning, appears to check on th band, notes the wild applause and disappears, no doubt to plan strategy.

There's a long break between sets leading to the dissipation of part of the crowd. Heidi, the whizz-kid of EMI Germany, explains the local GI's problem: "Zey have to report back to camp by 11.00 pm". So when Queen's little rock 'n' roll drama explodes, there are considerably fewer people end even less enthusiasm.

Presence

Mercury, the self-styled rock supremo, looks unabashed as Queen open with as much presence as a band can muster. Lights, tapes, and screaming dynamics combine to counter the audience apathy. It's ahighly professional first assault. Procession, Now I'm Here, and Ogre Battle make a promising start which draws warm applause. But unlike many gigs, this one did not cook to boiling point. If anything the crowd were almost undecided when Queen departed after an energetic stab. It took fully two minutes before muted applause turned to a good old stmp and chant, bringing the boys back on stage for a stirring finale.

Freddy stalks the stage with controlled aggression as they bash into Big Spender and you realise that here's a rock artist who can sing, cavort, and write songs with an almost contemptuous level of excellence. He is a classic rock star — complete with costume changes and bare hairy chest. Seems, his only real need is to develop that outrageous off-stage campery into the act. He's very much the mincing Queen, yet on stage this seemingly natural personality is overtaken with host of: "Right now we'd like to do" type announcements. Roger Taylor, a veritable demon on the drums and very fine musician, has more idea when he tells the crowd to get off their arses. Nevertheless there were those in the company who felt Queen showed too much aggression in the face of audience apathy.

Anyway, by all account there's a huge row in the dressing room afterwards which sends the EMI rep scurring away with cries of: "Don't let them break the windows."

The Swedes were apparently as wild as English audiences, but in Germany it's different.

Next stop is Hamburg with Skynyrd supporting for the last time.

Unapproachable

More talk on the way back to the hotel suggests the band will be unapproachable and there's even talk of spending the rest of the evening with Slade, who just happen to be staying at the same hotel. The word is that Queen are THE most fastidious band and no matter how good the gig, they (or Freddy paticularly) will find fault.

Eventually Brian and John walk into the bar. They look cool but not too unnerved and they're all prepared to go clubbing.

According to them there've been a few problems already on this, still young European tour like the incident which decapitated their equipment truck. Apparently some hapless roadie was hurtling through the Swedish night when he failed to notice a low-bridge warning. The lorry went on through, losing its root and half the amps in the process. Two gigs had to be cancelled while another truck was driven out from London in time for the Munich gig, a first in Germany. According to Heidi, Munich was a smash: "The audience just didn't know what had hit them," she says, adding that tonight's comparative failure does not over concern her: "Queen will be huge," she says confidently, "I'm sure they are going to be enormous, but it will take a year."

None of the boys seem overly worried and the general feeling in their road party — and among the visiting journalists — is one of disdain for the Frankfurt crowd. A crowd of dopers into boogie rock is hardly likely to appreciate futuristic guitar pyrotechnics and 1975 flash a la Mercury.

"Still," muses May, now installed at the night spot, "they could have returned something. The more an audience feed back the better we play — naturally — but there I just felt like I was wasting my time."

Electronic

He's a musician of the electronic school, very much on top of the latest developments in the uses of amplified sound. On stage he uses two American Echoplex units. The guitar he built himself over two years: "There's nothing special or different about it, it's just a good instrument." The amplifiers, he draws from a good old British tradition. Back in the days when The Shadows were the inspiration for every rock group in the country (they were celled rhythm groups then) Vox amplifires were renowned. Now, in contrast to almost all of his contemporaries, May uses the good old Vox AC 30, or to be more precise, nine of them (three are spare). 

Over a crab cocktail and non alcoholic drink (he's still recovering from Hepititis) Brian quashes the popular misconception that Queen are just a studio band manipulated by highly professional technicians. The truth is self-evident in the stage act. They compare favourably with their recorded sound. But Brian goes further. 

"Do people really believe it's all down to the studio?" he asks indignantly. 

Well, er, yes Brian, Trident Studios has got a reputation for expertise, and you must admit there's a lot of production goes into the Queen discs.

"OK," he returns, "but most of that studio direction comes from us.

"We think of all the ideas. We love being in the studio. We're full of thoughts on how the songs should come out."

Fair enough. But what about being on the road? There are nothing but tours ahead for the band. Can they all cope? What will they do to keep sane?

"I suppose this," he looks unimpressed. "I can't drink more than a couple of pints so there's no danger of me getting wrecked. I must admit though it's going to be long haul. It'll be really good for us but I'd prefer not to be away so long. We're just going home for Christmas then we're off again to America." 

Meanwhile on the next table, Freddy Mercury is being his ourtageous self: "When we were in Copenhagen dear, we went to a Russian restaurant where naturally I ordered the speciality of the house. It was delicious. I said 'what in this' and they told me I was eating bear. Bear, dear, I loved it."

Freddy and Roger Taylor seem to be taking Europe in their stride, and a few indifferent gigs won't stop their growing style in this band. Freddy's voice is on the way to giving out, yet he still has time to confide that he simply must do something about his hair. Perhaps he should send for his personal hairdresser? 

The Queen has her eyes on an entourage no doubt, and what's the betting she gets it...?

[badwolf-winchester]

Ancient Bloodlines

Pairing: Loki x Emy Nightstar (OC)

OC Summary: Emy is the newest Avenger. She specializes in Magic and close range attacks/ weapons. Her heritage is unknown to her as she was left at an orphanage door step when she was a young girl with only the memory of her name. She goes by her nickname Emy but has never told anyone her full name as its a reminder of her being abandoned. Emy can see through any illusion and Magic no matter how powerful they are or how strong the magic is and is unaware of this. Her powers include Telekinesis, Elemental Control, True Sight (as stated above) Enhanced healing and Shifting (she wont discover this till much later in the story). She loves to read, listen to music, play violin, sing, and draw.

Story Info: Takes place after infinity wars. Tony and Natasha are alive Steven comes back from the future after giving back the infinity stones. Vision is alive and living with Wanda in the tower. Thor and Loki live in the tower with the rest of the Avengers and for the sake of the story Himedall is alive and living with the rest of the Asgardians on earth in New Asgard (you will find out why later)

One last thing: Please do not repost my work on any other site or social media, however reblogging on here is fine. I work hard on all of my fanfics and it’s disappointing when people take my work as their own. I am the creater of all my OCs such as Sora Nightstar, Emy Nightstar, and Lithium Nightstar. My inbox is open for any and all requests as i am a multi fandom writer. Let me know how you like the story and i will do my best to answer any and all questions. As always i encourage any and all feedback as it helps with my writing. I hope you all like it!

The Beginning

They say that your parents are there to teach you the rules of the world, but what happens when you have no parents? Who will teach you then? The world is cruel but people are crueler. Ive learned this first hand when the person i trusted most in this world left me on the door step of the St. Trinity’s Orphanage. I was 9 when my mother told me she didn’t want me anymore and i guess I couldn’t really blame her. I mean who could love someone who couldn’t control the powers that grew with each passing year. Someone who started fires out of thin air when they had nightmares, conjured whirlwinds when startled, unfurled earthquakes when angered, spring forth rain showers when sad, and levitate objects when riddled with anxiety. I will never forget that day for its seared into my mind like its own person brand echoing with every beat of my heart. A monster thats what she called me, her own flesh and blood was a monster in her eyes, and i could see the relief when she ran from the solid oak door finally rid of the burden she had to put up with throughout the years. An abomination she cried as she reached the cobblestone sidewalk eager to be rid of me and by the pace she was going at i could tell she had more spring in her step than on the walk over from the bus we exited from. Unnatural she bellowed as she disappeared around the corner a ghost of a smile springing from her lips as she disappeared. These where the last words i would ever hear from my mother, if thats what you would call her.

Emy’s POV

Tonight was just like any other. Crisp cold air submerged the city in a blanket of dark and silence while it settled into your bones. I never minded the cold in fact I welcomed it, it reminded me of the cabin i found one year after running away from one of the many abusive foster homes i was forced to stay with. I’ll admit it was one of the times I was able to avoid the social workers for longer than a week and the happiest I had ever been in my life up until i was captured by Hydra. When I had a flair up with my powers, which usually ended up being fire, i would immediately get sent back to St. Trinity’s but this time i ran before they had the chance to toss me aside. The staff there used to place bets on how long i would stay with a family, they would joke saying i was cursed or jinxed but i knew the truth, no one wanted me. Once the parents found out about my abilities I was sent packing. I was labeled as a flight risk and a danger to others which only deepened my anti socialism.

Walking through the streets of New York i pull my dark purple jacket on and my dark brown hair in a pony tail as I get closer to my destination. Because i don’t feel the effects of the cold weather Tony, being such the dad figure he is, has made it his priority to make sure i still wear one just incase so here i was walking home in black ripped up jeans, a black v neck T-shirt, black and purple checkered vans and a light weight dark purple jacket. With my headphones in my ears and “I like it heavy” by Halestorm blasting I make my way to the place i call home, Stark Tower. Walking through the front doors i make my way past the receptionist who always greets me with a bright smile. As I walk towards the elevator I give her a small smile back and a head nod. After entering the elevator and pressing the button for the penthouse I start to reflect on how i got here.

By the time i was 15 Hydra found me in that cabin and took me away. I went from hopping from family to family to being used as a science experiment, constantly being poked and prodded just so they could get a reaction out of me. As a child my powers where very unstable mostly flaring up with my emotions, its no wonder that Hydra caught wind of me its not like i was hiding it very well or more so that i couldn’t hide it. They tried to wipe my memory to gain control of me “a blank slate” is what they wanted, but for some reason, they failed as I wasn’t susceptible to their conditioning methods no matter how much time i spent in the chair. However, I could tell they were scared of me I could see it in their eyes. This didn’t last long though as they used what they called their perfect weapon code name Winter Soldier to beat me into submission. After that first meeting that left me with a broken arm and a fractured ankle i started to obey, since then Ive met the Soldier a couple of times but if he remembers me he dosent let on and I dont blame him, he has been in that chair so many times Im genuinely surprised he can even remember how to walk. He is stronger than the others as most of the other test subjects had turned to vegetables after the 4th mind wipe, he was on his 10th the last time i saw him with Hydra.

Another test was done on me and this one was different. They used a teseract? If thats what they called it I can’t be sure nor did I care all I could feel was pain like as if someone injected lava in my veins. After they injected me I started screaming after a while I couldn’t even hear myself anymore, my throat was so sore and horse from the constant roar of my agony I just wanted it to end. How long was I out for? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? Years? They didn’t keep clocks there or at least not in the dungeon like cell they had me in. When the fire faded i was left with this numbness and after further tests I realized that I was immune to fire. I can literally stick my hand in fire and i will be left untouched and unscorched. They did the same test with freezing temperatures to see if they could subdue me at least in some way. I must have been out longer than just a couple of days as during the tests i didn’t recognize any of the Doctors. In that moment I realized something, if they were trying to contain me then something must have happened to the soldier. It was time to plan my escape.

Back in my cell i could hear footsteps approaching me and then stop short. One of the scientists frantically trying to talk some sense into someone just out of my line of sight. “She is immune to anything we throw at her sir. We have done every test we could there is nothing left for us to do.” One of the goons in a lab coat stated to what i assumed is a higher up. “Bolden If her powers keep growing at the rate they are it could be days in which she will be unstoppable and with the soldier gone we dont have anything that can keep her in line. She broke Mandy and Rays arms the last time we tested her. She is getting too strong.” Brining a hand up to his chin the higher up Bolden stepped out of the shadows and looked at me with deep interest before he turned to looked at the man and scoffed. As he walked away i felt a cold chill ran down my back as I anticipated what was to become of me; I knew it was nothing good i had already broken their rules. His next words only confirmed what I feared. “ Its simple. Break her spirit or kill her Doctor. And when i say break her i mean in anyway means necessary.” His sadistic laugh is the last thing i remember before everything went black.

Its been 2 years since i have escaped and now I’m living in the avengers tower. I don’t remember what happened after that night in my cell its all a blur of red, screams, and gunshots. When i woke up next i was in a 6ft crater where I was being held captive without a scratch on me. Trees were uprooted and fallen over as if a bomb went off. Luckily the Avengers showed up not long after me waking up and took me to their base where i met Directer Fury. With his permission and 24/7 surveillance provided by Tony Stark via FRIDAY and training sessions to get my powers under control i was allowed to join the Avengers and fight for good. Little did i know that by agreeing to this I would end up in the path of a certain God or Gods who were also taking residence at the tower.

With the sound of a *ding* the elevator shook me out of my mind and back to the present. As i exited the elevator I pulled my head phones out of my ears and was instantly met with the sound of Tony losing his mind. “Where did she go? She knows she can’t be out this late. She could be taken again! Its 5 minutes past her curfew!” Rolling my eyes I roll my headphones up and shove them in my pocket and round the corner. “Tony it takes 5 minutes to get from the lobby to the penthouse calm down. I bet she will walk through that door anytime now.” Came the sweet voice of reason of none other than Pepper Potts. “I’m Home.” I said in a deadpan voice as i walked by the couple only for Tony to stand up and intercept me by placing a hand on my upper arm. “Where did you go and why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” I looked at him and raised an eyebrow pushing his hand off me. “Tony its Wednesday. I have training with Strange on Wednesdays and I had Friday alert you as I was leaving but you were in the lab with Bruce.” Not sure what to say next Tony mumbled a small apology. “Sorry I was just worried about you. I know you are grown enough to make your own choices as you are 25 but I just want to make sure you are safe. How was the training with The Wizard?” Sighing and shaking my head just wanting to go the library and read I decided to just let it go. “Strange is a hard ass that much you already know. It wasnt bad actually I think I’m warming up to him. I didn’t spontaneously throw him to the wall when he snuck up behind me as i was going over the ancient texts so i call that improvement.” I said sheepishly while side stepping around him. “I’m gonna go to the library now and grab some light reading before bed you guys have a good night.” With out waiting for a response I quickly made my way towards my new destination only to have Tony saying something about guests in the house but I ignored him.

Pushing open the library door I make my way to the poetry section to grab my usual copy of Edgar Allen Poe that I read before bed. As my had reached for the spot i knew i put the book in i find that its not there. “Wait what? Where is my book? I know I put it back here before I left for training so where did it go?” Frustrated I stomp back over to the entrance and rip open the door ready to go on a murder spree while shouting down the hallway. “CLINT! You better give me back my night time book or I’m breaking all your arrows again! No one reads in this tower but me! How stupid do you think I am!?” Straining my ears I listen for any type of movement but was met with dead silence. After a minute I finally hear movement through the vents coming from the west part of the tower and I take off sprinting. Sliding around a corner I barely miss colliding with Steve and Bucky who look like they were on their way back from a mission. Offering a quick apology before I continue my pursuit I hear Steve yell “Hey! No running in the tower!” Not faltering in my hot pursuit of the Hawk thief I continue to zip through the tower ignoring the Captains words until i was almost to the vent that lead to the 2 level family room. Using the railing for the steps leading down to the family area to give me more height i jumped as close to the vent as possible and conjured my signature Scythe to slice through it while twisting in the air kicking the vent free and off its track. A shocked and terrified scream resonates from the vent as the culprit falls to the ground with a thud and a grunt. I landed in a crouched position and slowly straightened to my full hight. “What the hell Emy?! When did you learn to do that?!” Clint yells as he sits up rubbing his left shoulder that he landed on. I started stalking towards him with the blade of my scythe scrapping across the ground as i went while giving him a death glare. “Give me back my book Barton.” At the mention of his last name his head snapped up to me fear replacing the pain from his fall. “Oh shit last name not good.” Scrambling up on his feet he turns and runs towards the common room that connects to the elevator with me hot on his tail and my scythe trailing behind me in my right hand.

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit SHIT!!” He yells as he makes it fully to the room only to fling forward as i jump and kick his back tired of all the running. Twirling my weapon around I place it at his neck sneering at him. “I will not ask you again.” I said placing pressure on his neck with my blade. Sensing a fast moving object coming from my left from the kitchen I move my head back 3 inches as what looked like a hammer flew by me embedding itself in the wall. Turning my head slowly in the direction of the flying object, I confirmed it was indeed a hammer that was thrown at me. Irritation flared through me as i released Clint from the end of my scythe and turned fully to the kitchen to face my attacker. There stood 2 men that i did not recognize, one tall oak of a man with blond short hair, blue eyes and tan skin in blue jeans, a red T-shirt ,and grey jacket. the other shorter man made me stare at him and faultier for a second as he was so different from anyone i have ever seen, dark blue skin covered his entire body with darker almost black symbols and piercing red eyes, long black hair with black jeans, a green dress shirt and black jacket. Tearing my gaze away from his own curious one i looked between both men before i clenched my jaw letting my irritation settle back in. “Which one of you threw that hammer.” I said venom dripping with every word. “Whoa its ok Emy thats just Thor and Loki they are the asgardian Gods that live here in the tower part time when they are not in Norway.” Clint said standing up quickly. Not moving from my position i narrowed my eyes and flicked them over in Clint’s direction. The ground started to shake as my irritation and annoyance grew to anger remembering what i was doing before being interrupted by the Gods. Throwing his hands up in surrender he then quickly reached into his back pocket and retrieved my book. “Ok ok dont blow a fuse Em.” He said while tossing me my possession stopping me from causing an earthquake. Catching it in the air with my left had I inspected the book to make sure it wasn’t damaged before I let go of my scythe, with a wave of my hand it disappeared back to the pocket dimension I keep it in then looked back at Clint as the tremors stopped. “Touch my things again and i will be wearing your guts like my mom’s pashmina.” I said to the thief before walking out of the room and disappeared down the hallway not giving the Gods a second glance. As I entered my room i could hear a silky voice ring out from the kitchen. “Well isnt she interesting.”

Part 2 coming soon

@nickkie1129

[vannahfanfics]

A Dash of Cream and Sugar

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Emi Fukukado, Shota Aizawa

Emi hunched over the counter, fist digging into her cheek with her lips pursed as she sourly fixated on the corner of the coffeeshop. Bent over a laptop, fingers smoothly gliding over the keyboard, the handsomest man she’d ever clapped eyes on diligently attended to his work. Onyx-black eyes lidded as they fixed on the computer screen, wavy brown-black hair tied in a loose bun behind his head, and a white dress shirt clinging to his lean but muscular frame, local prosecutor Shota Aizawa sure was a mouthwatering sight— and a frequent one. The man practically lived on coffee, and thus was a regular figure in the mom-and-pop coffee shop where Emi worked as a barista. 

He’s so attractive that it’s a crime, she moped, slumping further into the counter as her longing mounted. She released a dreamy sigh, hearts practically beating in her eyes while she watched him take a languid sip of his black coffee. How can he walk around looking that fine when he’s a prosecutor? Talk about hypocritical! She giggled at her own joke, drawing the attention of her coworker Yu. 

“Ahhh, daydreaming about life with our local sleep-deprived filthy rich prosecutor, are we, Emi?” the blonde woman crooned as she bopped Emi atop the head with an empty coffee cup. The other woman frowned and rubbed the top of her hair, turning to look at her friend with pursed lips. 

“Not so loud!” 

“Relax. The only one who’s unaware of your affections is the object of your affections,” Yu teased. Emi puffed out her cheeks angrily, but said nothing, because she was right. Despite Emi’s most valiant attempts at flirting— batting her eyelashes, fleeting touches, and even bending over the counter to give a great shot of her endowments— had failed miserably. The man was just oblivious. Stone-faced, he’d just take his coffee with a simple “thank you” and shamble off to his corner to attend to his paperwork. 

Emi was at the end of her rope. She wasn’t getting any younger, and dammit, she wanted this man. 

“What do I do, Yu?” she warbled miserably while turning to plank against Yu’s chest. The woman cooed and patted Emi’s back encouragingly, prompting the green-hand woman to seek further solace in her bosom. Buried in her pillowy chest, Emi’s words were muffled as she groaned, “I just want him to notice me…” 

“Alas, my dear Emi, men are dense sometimes,” Yu tutted and patted Emi atop her head. “However, we women must persevere to win the hearts of men, however blockheaded they may be! It’s clear we have to take drastic measures.” 

“Drastic measures?” Emi echoed, turning up her chin to peer at Yu with pursed lips and a few of her sea-green hair sticking up from her friend’s comforting caresses. 

“That’s right!” Yu asserted and clapped her hands down on Emi’s shoulders, making her jump a little. “You have to lay it on so thick that he can’t possibly think you’re doing anything but flirting. Listen carefully, dear Emi, and we’ll net your man for sure!” Emi straightened up and Yu leaned in close to whisper fervently in her ear, both their gazes flickering to the unsuspecting man sitting quietly in his corner and type-type-typing away… 

That’s how Emi found herself sauntering up to the small round table with a fresh coffee in hand, an exaggerated sashay in her hips and a pleasant smile on her freshly-glossed lips (courtesy of her savior Yu). She called cheerily to Shota, adding a delighted wave to play up the cute and endearing act, and her heart skipped a beat when his lidded black eyes slid in her direction. His eyebrows quirked up his forehead when he noticed the steaming cup of coffee in her hand, her seafoam green acrylic nails a stark contrast to the white paper cup. 

“What do we have here?” he smirked, straightening in his chair. Emi’s knees nearly turned to jelly when he stretched his arms above his head, part of his dress shirt coming untucked from the waistband of his slate gray slacks and revealing a bit of his chiseled abdominals. She wobbled in her heels, legs stumbling in front of each other, but thankfully he had his eyes closed as he popped his aching vertebrae. It gave her just enough time to stagger up to the table and catch herself with the edge— and greet him with a million-dollar smile when he cracked his eyes open. 

“You’ve been here for a while, hard at work,” she explained, setting the fresh coffee down. “I thought it was high time for a fresh cup.” 

“Much appreciated, Emi.” Her nerves sang as he used her name, just like every time; with how often he was here, he was on a first-name basis with all the baristas, especially Emi since she worked full-time to supplement her income as a part-time standup comedian. He took the cup and brought it to his lips, sampling it with a teasingly raised eyebrow. He then smiled at her, and she wanted to do a happy somersault when she saw the pleased twinkle in his onyx eyes. “Perfect. I would be disappointed if you didn’t have my order memorized.” 

“The strongest brew of the day with a dash of cream and sugar and an extra two shots of espresso, or as I like to call it, Liquid Death,” Emi joked with a waggle of her finger. “Of course I know it, since I make it almost every day.” Her heart thrummed when his smirk twitched into an amused smile. 

“And yet, it’s not on the menu.”

“The management believes that it may unnerve our normal customers,” Emi purred with a playful wink. A chuckle rumbled in his chest, throaty in deep, and she melted against the table as her knees once again melted at the devilish attractiveness of this man. I’ll die before I even get to ask him out! She thought, resisting the urge to fan her slowly-flushing face. 

“What a shame,” he tutted and took another sip. Emi watched him with an intense stare— more specifically, the writing in permanent marker on the cup he’d yet to notice, as it was currently hidden underneath his thumb. Would her and Yu’s carefully-constructed plan fall to pieces all due to unfortunate physics? Her heart pounded against his ribcage as she just watched him sip at the coffee, her brows furrowing more and more with each passing second. 

Please notice me… I’m right here! she pleaded silently, nearly reduced to tears with frustration. Her heartbeat rose in pitch with each thump, until it thundered in her ears at near-deafening intensity. 

“Emi? Emi. Emi.” 

“O-oh!” she stammered when Shota’s voice finally reached her. She jerked violently and fluttered her eyelashes as she came back to reality; it took her a few moments to register that he was holding out some bills to her and looking at her in concern. 

“You all right?” 

“H-huh! Oh, yes. I just got lost in thought!” she evaded with a light-hearted laugh. She looked down at the offered bills, then waved a hand dismissively with a smile. “Oh, don’t worry about the coffee! I used my daily free drink.” 

Shota raised an eyebrow questioningly, his hand falling a little. 

“Well, that leaves you without a drink, now doesn’t it?” 

“Bahhh, don’t sweat it!” she insisted with another fluttery wave, using her other hand to rub the back of her neck. “I don’t feel like drinking coffee today.” Shota looked unconvinced, but obediently tucked the bills back into his wallet. He picked up the coffee and sipped at it thoughtfully, once again failing to see the writing scrawled on the white surface. Emi wanted to fall over and throw a tantrum, it was so infuriating how the world hated her so!

“Still, I feel like I should repay you some way…” 

“Really, it’s not ne—” 

“If not monetary reimbursement, then perhaps a date?” 

Emi almost spit all over him with the completely flabbergasted sound that came out of her mouth. Shota actually chuckled a little at the way her mouth fell open and she just stared unresponsively, dumbstruck. 

“While you were staring off into space, I read your little love note,” he revealed, turning the coffee cup around and giving it a shake. Emi had written the poem “Roses are red, violets are blue, if it’s not too much trouble, can I go out with you? <3” in black permanent marker in the white space of the cup. “Quite original, I must say. Much more enjoyable than your phone number, though I suppose I’ll need it,” he said with a wolfish grin and a saucy wink that had Emi almost faint. 

“O-okay,” she said breathily, submitting to the urge to fan her face as a blush blazed across her face. She retrieved her trusty permanent marker and the empty coffee cup, lifting it up with trembling hands to write down her number. Her quivering hands made the numbers jerky and twitchy, but thankfully still legible. When she handed it back to Shota, he appraised it with a hum, and then set it down. 

“Thank you. What time do you get off tonight?” 

“T-tonight?” she wheezed. Though this was everything she’d ever wanted, suddenly it felt like it was all happening too fast. Somehow, she remained steadfast and squeaked out, “Ei-eight…” 

“All right then, Emi,” Shota smiled and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll see you for dinner, then. Now, you and I both should probably get back to work,” he said, motioning to the coffee bar with his chin. She looked back to see Yu struggling to man the front herself and casting desperate glances at Emi. 

“O-okay!” she said breezily, wobbling as the situation finally began to dawn on her. Still, her friend needed her, so she staggered back to her workspace to replace Yu at the register and fumble through the orders with a hazy mind. She kept thinking how much Shota’s coffee order fit him— though he seemed dark and brooding, just like pure espresso, but there was a hint of sweetness, a dash of cream and sugar, swirling within. She couldn’t wait until their date, when she could really get a taste of her new favorite brew…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 10: Truth or Truth

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which the truth comes out.

Word count: 6.6k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link (Thea as Y/N)

Well, this is one crazy chapter 👀 Let me know what you think because I’m thirsty for feedback. But also don’t be to harsh on me I’m fragile.

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The last Sunday of the month. Laura Hilfgard’s flat. Y/N’s book was almost finished and ready for submission, and she was at the top of her game. She’d been putting off everything else to write, and for the first time in her life, everything was happening according to plan. Last year’s Y/N would’ve spent every passing moment waiting for something to go wrong. The writer-to-be Y/N, however, was living her best life.

“Are you sure you want to omit the confrontation scene in chapter ten?” Laura asked once they’d stopped for a tea break.

Y/N stirred her tea slowly, still contemplating her handwritten notes. “You don’t need drama in every chapter. It’s not realistic.”

“It’s fiction,” said Laura. Y/N glanced up with an eyebrow lifted, and the agent exhaled as she raised her hands, palms out. “Sorry, ma’am. Your book.”

Blowing into her tea, Y/N closed her pink notebook and took a sip. “Sorry, it’s just the story is based on what happened to me.”

“Oh?” Laura blinked, sounding both surprised and intrigued.

“I changed a few things,” Y/N said. “But yeah, my boyfriend used to be my neighbour. We met in his treehouse twelve years ago.”

“Your boyfriend is Harry Styles, right?”

“You know him?”

“Everyone does.” Laura stopped stirring her tea to add more sugar with the same spoon. She’d been stirring and adding sugar for the last five minutes, which made Y/N wonder if she was going to drink at all. “I’ve heard so many stories about you two. You make a fine couple.”

“You’ve heard stories about us?” Y/N carefully set down her cup and smiled questioningly at the woman. “From whom?”

“Everyone,” Laura said and finally brought the cup to her red lips. Y/N watched Laura take the first sip of her overly sweet tea, and the only thing that came to Y/N’s mind was the likelihood of a connection between Laura and Harry.

Impossible. Harry would never have interfered. Not after their fight about John Conall. Besides, Blake had been the one who’d suggested her to Laura, not Harry. So how could Harry have possibly done anything?

Or could he?

What if he’d contacted Laura right after Blake had given the manuscript to her? No, Harry would never lie to Y/N. Harry, of all people, would understand how much this meant to her, that she’d accomplished everything on her own without his help. Harry, of all people, would believe in her.

Once she got back to her flat, she found herself pacing back and forth in her living room, clutching her phone to her chest as she tried to decide if she should just call and ask him. Him saying he had no connection to her literary agent would put Y/N out of her misery. But that would prove that she didn’t trust him, and he’d be so angry, and they would fight again. Things had been going so well recently she didn’t want to mess it up. Although there was a tiny part of her doubting everything, mostly herself…

Her phone rang, and she jumped. It was Harry. Biting her nail, she slid her thumb across the screen to answer and tried her best not to sound like she’d been overthinking. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey, are you working?”

“I just got back from Laura’s.”

“Is the book done?”

“Yup. We’ve submitted it to some publishers, and all we have to do now is wait.”

“That’s my girl.”

The question about Laura was on the tip of her tongue. She bit her nail instead and took a seat on the couch as he went on, “Don’t hate me for what I’m about to say, okay?”

“Okay.” She kept her tone light and neutral while unconsciously picking at a thread on her skirt.

“I forgot that I’d have dinner with my dad. I know I said I’d take you out tonight–”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” she said quickly and sat on her hand to stop her fidgeting. “You’ve been spending quite a lot of time with your dad.”

“Yeah,” he sighed contentedly. “Now that I don’t have to hide it from my mum or Gemma anymore, I can support Dad and Emi without feeling bad about it.”

“Support? As in...financially?” She hoped she didn’t sound too judgy.

He was quiet for a full second. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Harry…”

“No, hear me out. They owed the bank a lot of money because of the accident. I only helped them pay their debt. It’s not like I’m buying them a car or a house.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled. “You’ve been giving them so many expensive things, and Isaac told me you’ve also been helping Emi get back to acting.”

“ ‘Help’ as in I got her to castings. She still needs to audition like everyone else. I don’t ask directors to give her roles that she’s incompetent at, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I’m not implying anything.” Maybe she was. “It’s just...you can’t live their lives for them, Harry.”

“I don’t. I’m only trying to help.”

“You can help, and you should. Just don’t overspend on them.”

“They’re family.”

She almost told him ‘not really’ and ‘I still don’t trust them’, but then let it go once he fell silent. “That wasn’t a fight, was it?” she asked.

“Of course not, kid.” His low laugh brought her a sense of relief. She straightened before leaning into the couch, staring at one of the cracks on her ceiling.

“I gotta go now. Talk to you later?” he said cautiously.

So she kept her tone light. “Sure. Have fun acting.”

“Have fun writing. Love you.”

She giggled as he kissed the phone.

“I love you, too.”

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Since Gemma ran an online business and therefore wasn’t tied to a desk and a chair, she had decided to stay in London for a couple of days. Those couple of days had turned into two weeks and felt like two freaking months. Time slowed down when she was with Isaac; not that she complained.

She’d been with him constantly since they’d left Holmes Chapel. She wasn’t sure what they were. Friends? Way past that. Lovers? Not quite there. Friends who kissed? Well, sure, that might be a suitable label for their ‘relationship’. Gemma hated labels anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“Have you spoken to him?” Isaac asked, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. They were at his house, curled up in his bed, watching Netflix. Almost like a happy couple.

“Harry?” Her eyebrows furrowed as one of the characters was being brutally murdered on the screen. Isaac leaned forward and pressed pause right before the dead body collapsed.

Gemma gasped, “Hey!”

“You’ve already watched this,” he chuckled and removed the laptop from her lap before she could resume the movie.

“Still, that’s the best scene!”

He shook his head, placed the laptop on the other side of him and turned around, facing her. “Have you spoken to Asher?”

“No. He’s probably forgotten about me.”

“Gem…”

“Can we not mention my ex at this moment?”

“He’s not your ex yet, and you don’t want to mention him at any moment.” Isaac took her hand and brought it to his lap. “You need to break up with him.”

“He already broke up with me.”

“He said it was a break.”

She groaned and hugged a pillow to her chest. “He said it so he could hook up with whoever he wanted. He’s done this before, disappeared for a week or two. I was pretty sure he was hooking up with his secretary at the time, then he came back and acted like nothing was wrong. I just...I was stupid and I was in love with him. But not anymore. I’ve had enough.”

“So you’re just gonna wait until he reaches out to you, and then break up with him?”

“Yes. I want it to hurt.”

Isaac screwed up his face. “Why?”

“What do you mean why? After all that he’s done to me?”

“Do you still have feelings for him?” He tried to sound unbothered but she could see right through him. “Is that the reason why you’re so determined to make him feel equally bad?”

“No!” She shook her head, squeezing his hand. “I just don’t want him to think he’s so important. I’m not gonna reach out first. Now can we please get back to the movie?”

“Fine,” he huffed and brought the laptop back to his lap.

As she snuggled up to him and he draped his arm around her shoulders again, the buzzing of his phone on the nightstand interrupted them. She groaned when he withdrew himself from her.

“It could be Lee,” he said. Lee was his manager.

But it wasn’t Lee. She could see it on his face as he put down his phone as soon as he’d read the messages.

“Who’s that?”

“Your half-sister,” he said, drawing her back into his arms.

She lay her head on his chest, her eyebrows pulled together. “She’s still your model?”

“We had our last shoot yesterday. If you’d come, you could have met her.”

“It’s so weird that I haven’t.” She tilted her head up to look at his face. “Do you think she’s scared of me? Because I’m not as easy-going as Harry.”

“Probably.” A grin stretched his pink lips as she weakly hit his chest.

“Did you ever fancy her?” She arched an eyebrow so he mimicked her expression.

“Are you jealous of your own sister?”

“Half-sister.”

Her irritated tone got him laughing. “I mean, she is pretty.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, gazing at the ceiling. “Maybe a little.”

Gemma poked his side and he jerked away, doubling over and protecting his sensitive spots from her tickling. They nearly fell off the bed from laughing too hard. Somehow he ended up on his stomach and she on his back, their cheeks together.

He whispered, “Do you think Harry would like the idea of us?”

“Should we call and ask him?”

“Gemma.”

She giggled as his face turned serious. “Of course. You’re his best friend, right?”

“I don’t know about that. He didn’t talk to me until Y/N and I broke up.”

“That’s because she’s Y/N. He didn’t let me come to the treehouse because it was ‘their place’.” She rolled her eyes. “But it was mine first. Dad built it for me.” When she caught him gazing at her, she returned a look just as bemused. “What?”

“You said ‘Dad’. Not Winton.”

“Oh.” She rolled onto her back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Isaac flipped over to lie on his side, his head propped up on his hand. She waited for another question, but he didn’t ask, so she went on, “I still won’t visit him or even talk to him. But I guess there was a time when he was good, and I should give the old him some credits. It’s easier to do that, now that I no longer have to deal with the consequences of him leaving.” She turned to smile at him. “Now that I’ve found someone who really cares about me.”

“Who’s that? Is it me?” He acted shocked and she shoved him away, cackling.

“Come on.” She sat up, grabbed the laptop and beckoned him over. “We still have to finish this terrible movie.”

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A week later, Y/N came to Laura’s office after she’d finished two classes in the morning. Laura’s assistant told her Laura had taken a day off because she was sick. “She’s rescheduled the meeting with the publisher this afternoon,” said the assistant. “I was gonna call you but Ms Hilfgard said she’d tell you herself. She’s probably forgotten.”

Weird. Laura never forgot. She was like a machine when it came to business stuff, and Y/N had always wondered where that woman got all that energy. Laura must be very sick. Y/N normally would stay away from other people’s business, but she’d been inseparable from Laura recently, which gave her a sense of responsibility for her agent. She should probably check in on Laura.

“Is she at her flat today?” she asked the assistant, who seemed unsure.

“I think so. Would you like me to call her for you?”

“No, thank you. I’ll do it myself.”

Y/N adjusted her bag on her shoulder, wished the woman a good day and ambled out of the room. She tried calling Laura when she got into the lift, but Laura didn’t answer the phone. A throb in her stomach led her to believe something was wrong.

Everyone got sick once in a while so Laura couldn’t be an exception; she was human after all. But Y/N’s gut feelings were always correct. And if she chose to ignore them, it’d be her fault when something actually happened to Laura, who lived all by herself and had no close friend or family, none that Y/N knew of.

“Laura! It’s me, Y/N!” Y/N banged on the door after she’d rung the doorbell many times and there was no answer. “Laura! Your assistant told me you were sick. I came to check on you.”

Just as she imagined herself kicking down the door like those badass heroines in movies, she heard the sound of it being unlocked, the handle turned, and the door was opened. Her chest caved when Laura appeared, holding the door just wide enough to reveal half of her face. She was in her bathrobe without any makeup on, her skin marked with freckles, her lips dry, her eyes dark and weary, and her hair wasn’t pulled up into a neat bun like it always was. She looked like she’d gone through hell and back.

“Are you all right?” Y/N asked and immediately realised how stupid she’d sounded; of course, Laura wasn’t all right. Look at her.

“I’m very sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t have come here.” Laura sounded spacey. The smell of alcohol on her breath was too strong. She held Y/N’s gaze, expecting Y/N to leave, but once she was sure Y/N wasn’t going anywhere, Laura stepped aside and opened the door a bit wider, just enough for Y/N to slip in.

The door was closed. They were standing in the semidarkness; there was still a bit of light coming through the dark blue curtain of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The evident of Laura’s despair was lying on the white carpet in the middle of the room – empty bottles after a wild alcohol-binge. She wasn’t sick. She was drunk.

Laura brushed past a bewildered Y/N and careened toward the sofa. The sofa legs creaked ominously under her weight.

“As you can see, I’m pretty much alive,” she said to the ceiling, an arm placed over her eyes. “You may leave now.”

Y/N wanted to leave. Whatever Laura was dealing with had nothing to do with her. She’d only come to make sure her agent was still alive, and Laura was just drunk for some unknown reason, but that was all Y/N should know. She should leave. Her brain told her to leave, but her guts told her Laura needed help.

She huffed and came to stand at one end of the sofa. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“It has nothing to do with you, Y/N.”

“You rescheduled a meeting with the publisher without asking me – your author, and then lied about being sick when you’ve been drinking your arse off. So yeah, it has a lot to do with me.”

As Laura didn’t answer, Y/N picked up the woman’s arm and tried to haul her out of the sofa. She resisted the effort, weakly pushing Y/N away.

“Fine. I’m leaving.” Y/N folded her arms over her chest. “Call me when you’ve sobered up.”

“I now see why he’s crazy about you.”

The words froze Y/N to the spot. She slowly turned around and backed away from the front door to return to her previous spot beside Laura. He? Who was he?

Laura’s eyelids fluttered like she was going to fall asleep, but then she continued, “He chose you over me because you’re young and beautiful and ambitious and kind…He chose you over me because...I’m the opposite…”

Y/N’s heart, head, and stomach pulsated at once. “Who...who are you talking about?”

“Blake.”

The name left her in shock. She blinked at Laura, feeling disoriented for a second. She hoped Laura was only messing with her. Laura and Blake? No fucking way.

“He ended it because of you,” Laura went on despite Y/N’s startlement. “We weren’t really together, but he made it clear that we’d never be anything.” She laughed loudly and mirthlessly, her thick dark hair bouncing on her slim shoulders. “You have a boyfriend, and he still chose you over me. I would call him stupid but what would it make me?” Then she glanced up, her glossy eyes filled with wondering and desperation.

Meanwhile, Y/N was stuck in rearranging her thoughts. Everything made sense – Blake had been their connection since the beginning, and Laura had heard so much about Y/N and Harry – but Y/N couldn’t bring herself to believe any of it. She clutched the strap of her handbag and took in the sight of Laura, trying to look for the badass woman hiding underneath.

“I think you should go,” Laura said to her feet and gestured toward the door. “I’ll call you once I’ve sobered up.”

“Do you have anyone else I can call–”

“I don’t need anyone, Y/N. Leave!”

“Okay,” Y/N murmured as she squared her shoulders, gripped the strap of her bag, and marched to the front door.

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Thud Thud Thud

“Blake! We need to talk, Blake!”

Blake opened the door and sprang back before Y/N accidentally hit his face with her fist. “Did you sleep with Laura?” she bellowed before he could question, and he blinked as if she was speaking alien language.

“Laura Hilfgard,” her voice dropped, “My fucking agent. For fuck’s sake! Did you sleep with her?”

He still didn’t answer but the look on his face said it all. He couldn’t admit something so horrible.

“Goddamn it, Blake! Fuck!” she roared into her hands, her chest growing hot. When he tried to touch her, she pushed him away and stabbed a finger at his face. “You lied to me!”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry–”

She held up a hand to stop him. “Oh, don’t fucking apologise to me. I’m not gonna accept it. Apologise to Laura.”

“We’re over.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter, Blake! It’s fucking sick that you slept with her so she would sign me! Fuck you!”

“Y/N!” He caught her wrist and she whipped around to fight him, but his fingers were quick to clasp her other wrist.

“Let me go!”

“Listen to me!” He shook her to get her to stop, and she did, panting and glowering at him. “I didn’t sleep with her so she’d sign you. Yes, I’d...I'd been sleeping with her before. That was how I knew her. I asked her to read your book and she loved it.”

“She only ‘loved’ it because she loved you, Blake!” Y/N yanked her hands back, tears welling up in her eyes. “You broke her and she cancelled the meeting with the publisher. She’s gonna drop me!”

“She won’t. I’ll talk to her–”

“I don’t fucking need your help, Blake. Just…” Y/N stepped back, holding up her hand to stop him from getting any closer. “Just don’t fucking talk to me again.”

“Y/N, please, hey.” He strode forward and got between her and her door, his desperate grey eyes begging her to hear him out. “I swear to you I didn’t do this on purpose. I just wanted to help. You were so desperate and I wanted you to be happy.”

“I was desperate but I wasn’t miserable,” she said through her gritted teeth. “You want me to be happy but what you did was awful, Blake. You made me feel like a talentless piece of shit, that if my boyfriend doesn’t get me a job, then my ex-boyfriend has to sleep with someone for it. God, what is wrong with you?”

“At least I gave your story to Laura and made her read it. Your boyfriend just fucking told John Conall to sign you. He doesn’t even care.”

“Don’t talk about Harry that way. He’s a thousand times better than you.” Then she froze. “How do you even know about Conall?”

“Laura knows him,” Blake said to his feet. “They talked.”

“Fuck this.”

She pulled out her keys and gestured him to get out of the way, but he refused to comply, shaking his head. She had never seen Blake Roman so despondent, and she didn’t like this side of him at all.

“I still love you, Y/N,” he said despite the fact that those were the last words she wanted to hear right now. “I’m sorry I left, but in the last three years, I couldn’t stop thinking about us, and how we could’ve figured out a way to be together instead of giving up. Then I met you here, and...and I–Listen, I’ve been trying to make it up to you–”

“Blake, please…” she breathed, her eyes tight.

“I know you still have feelings for me, Y/N. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have spent so much time with me. You rarely mentioned him when we were together. We have so much in common and we fit.”

“You’re wrong.” She stared dagger at him and unclenched her fists, taking a deep breath. “I rarely mentioned him because I didn’t want to hurt you. I knew you still had feelings for me. I guess I was wrong to want to keep you in my life as a friend when you don’t belong there anymore.”

“I do, Y/N. I do,” he fretted while she kept shaking her head.

“You don’t. You just...you just felt like childhood, which I can’t keep dwelling on anymore. Both of us need to grow up.” She inclined her head, arms wrapped around herself. “I’m sorry, Blake. I don’t think we can be friends anymore. Not after this.”

“Y/N.”

She didn’t look at him and rushed down the stairs, hoping he wouldn’t go after her. And he didn’t. She came dashing out of the building, her eyes prickling with tears. She couldn’t believe she’d doubted Harry and trusted Blake. She felt like such a fool. She hated herself.

Stopping on the side of the road, she fished her phone out of her handbag to call Harry. But then her screen flashed on with the notification of ‘11 missed calls from Laura H’. Her chest throbbed. She called Laura back.

Laura didn’t answer.

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When Gemma stepped out of the lift, fumbling around in her bag for her room key, she almost didn’t notice the man waiting for her in the hallway.

“Gem.”

His voice froze her to the spot. She shot her head up, her heart rate increasing as Asher walked up to her holding a rose bouquet. He was dressed in a fine ocean-blue suit, his dark hair pushed back, the strong scent of his cologne so unbearable. He looked like he was here for a photoshoot or a red carpet event. When he cracked a smile, she responded with a grimace.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, unable to take her eyes off the flowers. The last time he’d got her flowers had been their first Valentine’s Day together; things had gone downhill after that.

“I came to see you,” he said. “To apologise.”

He held the flowers toward her with both hands, and she pushed them right back to him, shaking her head.

“I don’t need your apology,” she said. “You made it clear that day on the phone that this was over and I’m thankful for it.”

“I said ‘a break’.”

“You don’t get to call a break and come back whenever you feel like it,” Gemma said in annoyance. “That’s not how a relationship works.”

She gently pushed right past him to unlock the door. Right as she opened it, he slipped straight into her room. She stared at him, speechless. “Asher, leave.”

“I want to talk, please.”

Frustrated and annoyed, she slammed the door behind her, stormed toward the bed and flung her bag on it. He stood by the door with that stupid bouquet, waiting for his chance to speak.

“I can offer you a deal,” he blurted as she turned around. “You don’t have to get back with me. We can go separate ways after this.”

“Or we can go separate ways now.” She gestured to the door.

He pretended like he hadn’t heard that. “My father really likes you,” he said. “He thinks you keep me grounded. So I think...if you ask him for the investment, he’ll most likely say yes. I'll pay you. Please help me, Gem.”

“No!” Gemma put her hands on her hips, her mouth quirked in annoyance. “You’ve got some nerves to ask me that. We are not getting back together. Go find someone else dumb enough to help you.”

Asher’s mouth fell open. He must have come here thinking she would burst into tears and run into his arms the moment she saw him and forgive him like she always had. If so, he was destined for disappointment.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “Why are you like this all of a sudden?”

“Why do I have common sense all of a sudden?” She cocked her head. “Maybe I’ve finally found someone who appreciates me, and is not only with me because he can use me for his own benefit.”

Asher was shallow but he wasn’t stupid. Realization soon dawned on his face. “Have you been cheating on me?”

Before he’d come here, she’d imagined this moment to be extremely awkward, but now she was full of rage. “You and I are not together anymore, Asher,” she snapped. “But well, I did kiss him once when we were ‘together’.”

“You fucking bitch,” Asher bellowed as he threw himself at her. Everything happened so quickly her brain failed to catch on. The next thing she knew, she was on the floor, gripping the edge of the table, her head in pain. She spotted the horror on her ex’s face before he broke into a run out of the room, so she reached for her head and looked at her own fingers.

Blood.

He’d pushed her.

Shocked and dizzy, she held the table for support to stand up and hobbled into the bathroom where she grabbed a hand towel, wetted it and tried to clean the wound on her forehead. That was when she heard the door open and close. She spun around, horrified. It was just Isaac.

“What happened?!” He rushed toward her, held her face between his cold palms.

“Asher came here…” was all she could say while shaking her head, feeling herself going unsteady.

“Did he fucking hit you?” Isaac ground his jaw, his eyes turning dark.

She shuddered at the thought and felt hot tears in the wells of her eyes. “I think he pushed me,” she mumbled.

“Fuck!”

She fisted his shirt, afraid that he might run after Asher, who must have been long gone by now. But Isaac didn’t bother to ask about the arsehole. He inspected the wound on her forehead and encircled his arms around her. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”

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“Can I see her?” Y/N asked.

“Not yet,” the nurse answered.

“Is she okay?”

“She will be,” the nurse told Y/N while scribbling something on the clipboard. She’d asked Y/N a bunch of questions about Laura, most of which Y/N had answered with “I don’t know”. She didn’t know if Laura was a regular drinker or if she often drank to drunkenness. Y/N only knew what she’d witnessed – Laura blacked out on her bedroom floor with empty bottles scattering all around.

Laura had been taken to the emergency room where they gave her fluids. The doctor had briefed Y/N, saying Laura had got alcohol poisoning from her alcohol binge, and if Y/N hadn’t found her – if she’d locked the door after Y/N had left – then something terrible could have happened tonight. Y/N wasn’t sure if Laura would be okay, but things could have gone worse and she was grateful it hadn’t.

“Is there any family member that we could call?” asked the nurse, who was finally making eye contact with Y/N.

“I-I don’t know. I’m just her client,” Y/N said, rubbing her palms together nervously. “Maybe uhm...maybe I can call her assistant.”

“It’s fine. She’s in a better condition now. We’ll just get information from her when she wakes up.”

Y/N thanked the nurse and sat in one of the chairs in the hallway. She thought of calling Harry but didn’t have any motivation to do it, so she sat with her head against the wall, watching the nurses’ station while she waited for better news.

She didn’t know what time it was. She was already fatigued. She felt herself drifting away when a voice pulled her right back.

“Y/N?”

She looked up. Isaac and Gemma were just as shocked to see her. Gemma didn’t look like herself; she was wearing an oversized black hoodie with the hood on, covering her forehead. Y/N didn’t want to assume the hoodie was Isaac’s, but something told her it wasn’t Gemma’s.

“What...are you guys doing here?” Y/N slowly rose from her seat, her eyes switching back and forth between Isaac and Gemma. “Together.”

Isaac worked his jaw, unable to get any word out as he looked over at Gemma imploringly, and she heaved a sigh. Y/N was losing patience with the suspense when Gemma pulled back the hood to reveal her bandaged forehead.

“Oh my God, what happened?” Y/N gasped, pushing past Isaac to grab Gemma’s shoulders. “Did you get into an accident?”

“Y-Yeah.” Gemma looked unconfident, her eyes searching for Isaac’s again. Something was wrong, and neither of them wanted to tell Y/N what it was. She would have been mad if she didn’t have her own problems to worry about. What a crazy day it had been.

She was going to ask Isaac why he’d been the one to take Gemma to the hospital, but he went first. “Why are you here?”

“A friend of mine got into trouble,” she said. It was only fair that she got to be ambiguous too.

“Alice?” Gemma looked concerned.

“No.”

Isaac grimaced. “Eddie?”

“No!” Y/N rolled her eyes at their surprised reactions. “You guys really assume I have only two friends in London?”

“You do have only two friends in London,” Isaac said, beaming, “Besides us.”

Y/N assumed he meant him, Niall, and Harry. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but she wasn’t going to give him that.

For the second time, she meant to ask why he’d taken Gemma here, but right as she opened her mouth, a nurse showed up with a clipboard.

“Miss Styles," she called.

“Yes?” Gemma whipped around as the nurse sauntered right past her like she wasn’t there.

Confused and surprised, they all watched the nurse head toward the end of the hallway, where sat a brunette with her headphones on. Her hair was covering her face as she was looking down at her phone. The nurse had to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention. She glanced up, eyes popping out the moment she saw them. Y/N, Isaac, and Gemma looked like they’d seen a ghost.

“Emilia Styles,” repeated the nurse since Emilia wasn’t looking at her. “You can see your mother now.”

Y/N glanced over at Isaac and Gemma, who looked as if they’d seen a ghost. The nurse said something else to Emilia and went into one of the rooms. Emilia told the nurse she’d be right back as she shoved her headphones into her tote bag, got up and made way toward Y/N, Isaac and Gemma.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said with a pretentious smile; it was the same smile she always wore, but it was only until this moment that Y/N realized how pompous it was.

“Drop the act,” Y/N snapped. “Are you gonna fucking tell us why you’re here? Or should we go ask your mum who is still ALIVE?”

Isaac held her back by the arm before she could even consider doing something to Emilia. She didn’t want to get violent; she wasn’t that type of person. Not yet.

“Fine.” The fake smile disappeared as Emilia stood taller despite having been exposed. “My mum’s alive,” she calmly confessed. “She has cancer, and my dad doesn’t work anymore so I have to take care of them.”

“With Harry’s money?” Gemma snarled. Y/N believed if Gemma’s head wasn’t hurt, she would have already torn Emilia to pieces.

“I didn’t take anything Harry didn’t want to give.” Emilia crossed her arms and lifted her chin, which made Y/N more shocked than angry; she didn’t know it was possible to be this shameless.

“So everything was fake?” Y/N asked. “You made up a nice little story calling your mum crazy for burning down the house and–”

“It was my dad,” Emilia said with her eyes closed as she sucked in an unsteady breath and opened her eyes at the long exhalation. “He was drunk and he set the house on fire. That was after my mum had been diagnosed with cancer. He was very upset because we didn’t have enough money for the treatment. I had to drop out and use my college money for it.” Then she swallowed and looked over at Isaac, who’d been speechless the whole time. “I’m sorry, Isaac. But when we met I recognised you right away. I knew you were Harry’s friend, and I saw you as an opportunity. We had to lie because Harry didn’t trust us at first; he thought Dad was a terrible man–”

“No decent man would lie to his own son to steal his money!”

“We weren’t stealing!” Emilia half-shouted at Gemma then frantically looked around. A few nurses stared at them with concern but no one attempted to interfere. Emilia turned back to Gemma and lowered her voice, “We were gonna tell him everything.”

“When?” Y/N scoffed. “When your mum gets better? Or when you finally become a successful actress living off Harry’s fame?”

“I started with a lie and I had to go through it.” Emilia huffed, her forehead creased. “Things have got so much better since Harry came into our lives. He paid off our bank debt, for Dad’s medicines, for our food. We never asked him for more money. We simply sold the expensive stuff he bought for us as gifts to pay the hospital bills for Mum. I still have to go to work, but now I can also go to auditions. And Harry doesn’t lose anything. He loves Dad, and he’s rich anyway.”

“Harry worked for everything he owns now,” Gemma hissed. “Your dad doesn’t get to live on the money of the son he left and tried to steal from.”

Emilia’s lips quirked in a scornful manner. “You’re just bitter because Dad doesn’t love you.”

Y/N’s gaze jumped to Gemma, whose face was white with shock. She didn’t expect that. None of them expected that. It was so hurtful. Because it was the truth...

“It was my plan. Dad just went along with it,” Emilia went on despite Gemma’s fists shaking as she refrained herself from tackling Emilia to the floor. Emilia knew Y/N and Gemma couldn’t do anything to her in a hospital hallway, and Isaac would never lay hands on a woman. She considered Gemma’s face. “He just wanted my mum to get better. We knew Harry wouldn’t help us if he had to go behind yours and your mum’s back, so I had to reach out to you first. I had to gain your approval.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Gemma sneered and waved her hand when Emilia gazed at her alarmedly. “Do go on. When will we get to the part where you’re forgivable?”

“Say anything you want, but I did it for a reason,” Emilia murmured, her eyes piercing at Gemma. “What are your reasons for cheating on your boyfriend and sleeping with your brother’s best friend?”

Gemma growled and launched herself at Emilia, who jumped right back as Isaac dragged Gemma away. A few nurses had gathered to watch them, unsure if it was necessary to call security. The four of them weren’t really fighting or being loud, but Y/N wasn’t sure how long they could maintain peace.

“Did I say something wrong?” Emilia looked at Isaac, whose eyes fastened on Y/N’s face at once.

“You two?” Y/N stared at him and Gemma in disbelief.

“Asher and I are over, Y/N,” Gemma said, reaching for Y/N’s hand. Y/N let her hold it, only because Y/N was too shocked to move.

“Does Harry know?” she asked quietly. Gemma and Isaac both shook their heads.

“Guess I’m not the only one who lied to Harry after all.”

Isaac shot Emilia a glare even though his features were incredibly calm. “Why haven’t you told him?”

“This isn’t a game of Truth or Dare,” she told him. “I’m not gonna blackmail you into doing something for me in return for my silence. I’m not a good person but I’m not that awful. I just wanted to help my mum. I don’t care what it takes.” Her voice suddenly dropped as she took a step further from them. “And I really liked you, Isaac. I’m sorry.”

Y/N could tell Isaac had a lot he wanted to say to Emilia, but he kept his lips tight because she wasn’t worth it. From the way Emilia was looking at him, she must regret lying to him the most. What about Harry? Harry didn’t deserve this. He’d been nothing but kind to her and Winton.

“Miss Y/L/N?” a nurse interjected. She was the one who’d spoken to Y/N about Laura. “Your friend is awake. Would you like to see her?” she told Y/N, who sighed in relief. At least this night didn’t go all the way down a pit of despair.

“I have to go,” she told Isaac and Gemma.

Isaac caught Y/N’s elbow before she could follow the nurse. “You’re not gonna tell Harry, are you?”

“I’m not gonna do the hard work for you three,” she said, giving all of them – even Emilia – a disappointed look. “You’re all going to tell him tomorrow. Not tonight. I don’t want his night to be ruined as well.” Then she fixed her eyes on Emilia, whose face was blank; either she hid her emotions really well, or she didn’t feel like any normal person would. Y/N stabbed a finger at Emilia, her voice rough, “You and your family better stay the fuck away from my boyfriend, or you’re gonna have to deal with his lawyer, and it won’t be pretty.”

The other nurses looked scared when Y/N caught them watching. She couldn’t even work up a smile as she mouthed the word “sorry” and marched right past them.

[noemifm]

(  twenty-three,  cis female,  she/her  )    ✉   ―   hey  babes,  have  you  met  𝑵𝑶𝑬𝑴𝑰  𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑨𝑺𝑪𝑶  ?  they’re  𝒗𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈  𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆,  a  few  villas  down  from  where  you’re  staying.  you  might  hear  𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭  𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥  𝐦𝐞  𝐮𝐩  𝐛𝐲  𝐦𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥  playing  from  their  villa,  it’s  their  favourite  song.  yes,  they  hear  that  they  look  like  𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒉  𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆  alot,  actually   –––    it’s  really  uncanny.  their  friends  back  home  in  𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐧,  𝐧𝐞𝐰  𝐲𝐨𝐫𝐤  say  that  if  they  were  on  a  tv  show,  their  trope  would  be  𝑻𝑯𝑬  𝑨𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑯  how  funny  is  that?    ✎    ellie,  21,  she/they,  gmt.

hi,  my  angels!  it's  me,  ellie,  back  at  it  again...  this  time  bringing  my  troublemaking,  chaotic  daughter,  noemi  to  stir  up  the  pot.  if  i'm  not  here  you  can  find  me  over  at  jadon  mosley  (  @jadonfm  )  but  down  below  is  a  few  basic  stats  of  my  daughter,  her  bio  and  wanted  connections  that  i’d  die  to  have  filled.  anyway,  i  love  her  and   all  should  too.  ♡＾▽＾♡

⟨     *    𝑭𝑰𝑳𝑬.    ￫    layer  i   𝄪   basic  info   .

𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐋 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄    ￫     noemi  aida  cordasco. 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐀𝐒    ￫     emi,  mimi. 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘    ￫     italian,  english,  scottish. 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑  +  𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒    ￫     cis-female  +  she,  her. 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘    ￫     bisexual,  with  no  preference. 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍    ￫     manhattan,  new  york  city,  new  york. 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒    ￫     alexander  cordasco,  father.  aliyah  cordasco  ( neé  kennedy  ),  mother. 𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒    ￫     francesca  cordasco,  older  sister;  aged  27.  juliette  cordasco,  older  sister;  aged 25.  luca  cordasco,  twin  brother;  aged 23. 𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍    ￫     private  school  education,  high  school  graduate  &  graduate  of  parsons  school  of  design. 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍    ￫     model,  aspiring  fashion  designer.

⟨     *    𝑭𝑰𝑳𝑬.    ￫    layer  ii   𝄪   background  information   .

okay  i'm  not  going  to  lie,  i've  had  no  time  to  write  an  in  depth  bio  like  i  did  for  jadon    –    however,  down  below  is  a  few  pin  points  until  i  have  time  to  write  something  that  i  actually  like!  triggers:  n/a.

￫    born  into  a  big  family  of  fame,  it  comes  almost  naturally  to  be  drawn  to  attention  and  live  in  scandals.  not  necessarily  her  scene,  but  somehow  still  manages  to  get  dragged  into  anything  her  siblings  do  and  often  has  to  defend  the  cordasco  name.

￫    speaking  of  family,  her  mother  was  a  big  name  in  fashion  during  the  80's/90's,  and  her  father  was  a  designer  in  italy.  they  met  on  set  of  a  photoshoot  and  the  rest  is   honestly  history.  they're  still  pretty  prominent  in  the  industry  and  all  of  the  cordasco  children  have  taken  an  interest  or  have  had  a  gravitational  pull  towards  design,  modelling  or  photography.  (  for  inspiration  /  comparison,  think  of  the  crawford-gerber  family  )

￫    was  essentially  born  into  the  world  with  it  paved  out  for  her    –    usually  seen  as  something  negative,  but  she  took  to  it  like  a  baby  to  a  bottle.  from  as  long  as  she  can  remember  she's  been  surrounded  by  cameras,  paparazzi  and  people  asking  her  personal  questions.  she  doesn't  necessarily  love  the  negative  attention,  never  has,  but  will  still  continue  to  deal  with  it  due  to  her  last  name.  

￫    her  childhood  was  pretty  standard,  it  became  clear  early  on  that  she  had  to  keep  certain  things  to  herself  if  she  wanted  to  succeed.  her  parents  and  siblings  all  have  a  very  supportive  relationship  between  each  other,  not  a  single  drop  of  maliciousness  or  toxicity  in  their  household.  it's  healthy  and  that's  how  we  like  it!  she  attended  a  private  school  in  new  york  and  went  on  to  get  accepted  into  parsons  school  of  design  to  hopefully  follow  the  footsteps  of  her  father  and  make  her  mark  on  the  fashion  world  like  he  did.

￫    had  a  rebellious  stage  when  she  was  eighteen  but  got  it  sorted  out  by  the  time  of  twenty.  she  was  the  girl  who  would  leave  the  club  at  6am,  dilated  pupils  and  all  as  she  attempted  to  pick  fights  with  anyone  who  looked  at  her  the  wrong  way.  it  was  easily  one  of  her  lowest  points  and  she  saw  that  would  affect  her  the  most  during  her  future  years;  code  for  her  growing  out  of  it    –    mostly.  

￫    parties  when  she  can,  slips  up  every  so  often  when  it  comes  to  substances  and  will  instantly  regret  it  the  next  day  but  it's  all  in  good  company  with  her  friends.  has  various  outbursts  when  under  the  influence,  but  that  would  boil  down  to  being  an  aggressive/angry  drunk  (  takes  after  her  mother  on  that  one  )  more  than  anything  else.

￫    is  honestly  rather  self  aware  and  doesn't  take  anything  for  granted  when  it  comes  to  her  wealth  or  status.  she's  always  sure  to  show  her  gratitude  to  her  name  when  it  comes  to  opportunities  that  come  to  her,  and  is  currently  signed  to  IMG  models  international  (  she's  got  a  pretty  face,  can  you  blame  her?  )  along  with  working  on  a  fashion  label  with  her  twin  brother,  luca.

⟨     *    𝑭𝑰𝑳𝑬.    ￫    layer  iii   𝄪   personality   .

self  aware  bitch.  knows  her  worth  and  won't  let  anyone  tell  her  different.  she  sometimes  has  a  god  complex  in  thinking  she's  better  than  anyone  else,  but  is  quickly  humbled  by  either  her  friends,  siblings  or  parents   –    and  when  that  fails,  tabloids  knock  her  down  a  few  pegs.  

she's  naturally  flirty  and  it's  probably  gotten  her  into  trouble  a  few  times.  accidentally  lets  people  think  something  might  happen  between  them  even  99.9%  of  the  time  it's  just  friendly  conversation.

the  amaranth  because  she's  hard  to  forget,  for  one  way  or  another  she'll  stay  imprinted  in  your  mind    –    her  personality,  looks,  etc.  and  she  thinks  that's  pretty  neat  :)

⟨     *    𝑭𝑰𝑳𝑬.    ￫    layer  iv   𝄪   wanted  connections   .

MY  MIND  IS  DRAWING  A  BLANK  SDKFJSDFHSDFD  .  hmu  for  wanted  connections  /  plotting  <3

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

The Trials of Emi

Pairing: A little Minho. A sprinkle of Frypan. Gally x Emi(OC)

Summary: Emi, her twin brother Thomas, and a small group of gladers had been rescued and taken to a safe haven. Or so it seemed. It doesn't take long for Thomas to realize something is wrong. What happens next is a true trial for all of them but Emi's trials began the moment she was ripped away from a dying Gally. Watching someone you love die right before your eyes truly takes a toll.

Finally meeting the right arm could have been the end but betrayal leads to even more chaos and loss. A new mission to rescue those taken from them leads them to a city. The last city. After Emi finally comes to terms with everything that's happened something unfolds that changes everything again. She will have to not only deal with helping her brother take down WCKD and save their friend but also deal with all the new problems in her head and her heart.

Rating: As of right now it’s at most PG13. Some strong language that’s about it but it could change.

(This is the 2nd part/book to my other story "The Maze trials: A Gally Fanfiction". This will cover the events of the scorch trails and the death cure.)

Chapter Fifteen

Outside the city walls was a small city of its own. It was crowded and run down. We wormed our way threw the crowd until we got out into what looked like the main road. A large crowd was making their way up the road towards the wall.

"We are the voice of the voiceless!" A loud man's voice shouted.

We turned to see a van slowly driving with several armed men on top of it. One man was at the front shouting into a megaphone. We stepped back out of the way as they drew closer.

"They hide behind their walls! They think they can keep the cure for themselves! While they watch the rest of us wither and rot!" The man continued to shout as the van slowly drove past us.

I stood beside Thomas with Fry right behind me. The people around us cheered and followed the van as it moved.

"But there are more of us than there are of them! We will rise up and take back what is ours!" The man's voice started to drain away as they got farther away from us.

We followed the crowd through the street. As Thomas turned a corner around a building he stopped.

"That's it! That's our way in!" He shouted over the noise of the crowd.

He took off elbowing his way threw the crowd. Only Jorge was able to keep up with him. Brenda, Fry, Newt, and I got stuck several feet back from them. The crowd started to shout and chat even louder than before as we drew closer to the wall.

"What the hell did we get ourselves into?" Fry asked.

"I don't know but I have a bad feeling." I told him.

Newt grabbed my arm as I grabbed the back of Fry's shirt so we could stay together. I happened to look behind us to see the same two men who were once on top of the van standing in the crowd staring in our direction. I nudged Newt causing him to look down at me. I nodded towards the masked men. Newt looked over his shoulder at them. They were moving threw the crowd now towards us. There were two more on our right watching us as they walked. That bad feeling I had skyrocketed. We shoved threw the crowd quickly to get to the front where Thomas and Jorge were standing. Newt wrapped his arm around Thomas' waist to get his attention.

"Hey, guys, we need to go now. Look." Newt said pointing behind us.

We all turned to see the men in masks even closer now. Before we could move a loud alarm started to sound drawing everyone's attention back to the wall. I couldn't see what was causing the alarm but the people around us started to scream and back away. I screamed tugging Fry's arm as bullets and explosions started to rain down around us. We ran threw the crowd trying to dodge the sudden attack. I found myself holding onto Fry's hand tightly. We turned to run between two buildings coming out in a small area.

Before I had time to think someone grabbed me ripping me away from Fry. I screamed and kicked as the person lifted me off the ground. I was tossed inside a van then Thomas was thrown inside right behind me. Two armed men climbed in then Brenda was thrown in behind them. When the third armed man got in he shut the door. I moved to sit as close to Thomas as I could. He was squeezed between myself and Brenda. He grabbed my hand and held it tightly as the van started to move.

"What the hell is happening?" I questioned quietly.

"I have no idea." Thomas panted.

The three armed men all set opposite us. They just silently staring at us. I noticed the man in the middle seemed to be looking at me. I slowly moved so I could put my hands inside the boots I wore. Thomas noticed what I was doing and grabbed my arm.

"Emi, that's not gonna go well against their guns." He whispered as he tugged on my arm.

I huffed but leaned back leaving the two twin blades that I had stuffed into my boots alone.

"Why don't you boys put down those guns? You couldn't possibly think little ole me could take any of you." I told the masked men in a sickly sweet voice.

One of the men on the side started to put his gun down but the man in the middle grabbed it and shook his head. I smirked but said nothing else. The van finally came to a stop. The armed men climbed out as the door behind us opened.

"Get out!" Another man in a mask ordered.

As soon as the three of us climbed out the other van pulled in. When it stopped it was rocking from side to side. The three of us shared a confused look. The back door swung open as a man came flying out of it. Jorge jumped out landing on top of the man.

"Where is she?" Jorge questioned loudly as he started to punch the man.

We all scrambled to get to him but each of us were pulled backward. Everyone but Brenda. She ran to Jorge putting her arms out to him.

"I'm right here! I'm right here!" She shouted.

Jorge instantly stopped. He got back to his feet then pulled Brenda into him for a hug.

"Everybody relax! We're on the same side here!" One of the masked men shouted.

Thomas tore himself free to turn to the man.

"What do you mean the same side? Who the hell are you?" Thomas asked harshly.

The rest of us were let go. I stepped over to Thomas keeping myself between him and Fry. The man in front of us put his gun down then pulled his mask off his face. When he turned to look at us everything stopped. There was no more noise. My heart stopped beating as it too stared in shock at the face in front of me.

"Hey greenie," he said in the voice I'd been dying to hear for so long.

I stepped back right into Fry. I stumbled but he caught me. He wrapped his arm around my stomach holding me against him.

"Gally?" Thomas questioned softly in utter disbelief.

My body felt like jelly. My legs trembled as my eyes overflowed with tears. He's alive? How? I was snapped out of my intense state of shock as Thomas landed a punch so hard to Gally's face that it knocked him completely off his feet. Thomas dived tackling the man on the ground. The others around us quickly pointed their guns at Thomas. Gally raised a hand at them as Thomas punched him.

"Stop! It's alright! It's alright!" Gally shouted.

Before I knew what I was doing I pulled out of Fry’s hold then ran forward just as Newt did the same. We took each side of Thomas grabbing his arms to stop him. I kept my eyes on my brother's face and not the man lying beneath him.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Newt shouted holding tightly to Thomas.

Thomas panted as he glared down at Gally.

"He killed Chuck." Thomas said through clenched teeth.

"I know. I remember. I was there too. I also remember he was stung and half out of his mind." Newt informed Thomas.

Thomas looked over at me. My tears were falling freely down my cheeks. I didn't need to say anything to him. He knew everything I was feeling at that moment.

"Just calm down." Newt whispered.

Thomas huffed then jerked himself away from us and Gally. Gally. I slowly turned to look at Gally who was still lying on the ground. His eyes were fixed on mine. I was pulled to my feet by Thomas. I stumbled backward but Fry caught me once again.

“Are you okay?” Fry whispered as he held me steady.

I shook my head. I’m the farthest thing from okay. Gally got to his feet as he rubbed his jaw.

"Kinda had that coming. Anybody else? Fry? Newt?" Gally questioned then turned back to me.

"Emi?" His voice wavered slightly.

"You know this guy?" Jorge asked.

"He's an old friend." Fry said simply as his hold on me tightened slightly.

I turned around grabbing Fry's shirt in my hands as I leaned my head against his chest. My mind couldn't process anything. Run to him! My mind repeated those three words over and over. If I wasn't clinging to Fry's shirt I'd be jumping into Gally's arms. I can't do that. I need to process the situation. I was healing. I was letting myself relax with the thought of maybe one day moving on. Moving on with Fry when I was ready.

"How? How is this possible? We watched you die." Newt said in disbelief.

I tightened my hold on Fry's shirt.

"No, you left me to die." Gally corrected.

A sob involuntarily came out of me. Fry was quick to wrap his arms tightly around me.

"If we hadn't found you when we did you'd be dead right now. What the hell are you doing here?" Gally asked.

I forced myself to let go of Fry. I turned slowly blinking away the tears. I placed my back against Fry’s front. Gally was watching me until Newt answered him. I noticed Gally’s eyes moving from me to Fry’s hands that were holding my upper arms.

"Minho. WCKD has him here. We're looking for a way in." Newt told him.

Gally glanced back to me then back to Newt.

"I can help with that. Follow me." He said then turned to walk away.

Thomas stepped forward.

"We're not going anywhere with you." Thomas said harshly.

"Suit yourself but I can get you through the walls." Gally shrugged.

My eyes were once again fixed on Gally. It took everything I had to stay glued to my spot. I wanted nothing more than to feel him holding me tight. I had made my peace with his death. I had finally made myself believe I'd never see him again but here he is. Right in front of me. But who knows if he still feels the same about me. After everything that happened. After all the time that has passed. I could never let go because I thought he had died but he probably thought I just left him. I took a step forward but Thomas was quick to grab my arm.

"Emi, we need more information before you go jumping into his arms." Thomas whispered to me.

I turned to look at him with tear-stained cheeks. He gently wiped my cheeks with his fingers then turned to Fry.

"Keep a hold of her please." Thomas told him.

Fry grabbed my hand then gently pulled me back to him. I knew Fry had feelings for me even if I had made myself clear to him. He had been so understanding of me needing time but what was he thinking now? I still love Gally and knowing he’s actually has changed everything.

"I can't imagine what is going threw your head right now Em but I need you to trust me. I just need to make sure this is safe. That he's safe." Thomas said quietly.

I nodded then squeezed Fry's hand. Fry squeezed my hand back softly.

—

[foggedgrief]

okay, hello, this is going to be a part one to a series of introductions ! i have already hit my five character cap because i’m a menace but that means you get more content and honestly that feels like a fair trade off. without my rambling, i give you nicky ( click here to find some quick facts about my boy ) and emi ( click here to find some quick facts about my girl ) ! wanted connections can be found here.

be warned ! before you click that handy dandy little read more, the following triggers will be discussed : death ( multiple deaths due to the fog, not explicit : both nicky and emi ), grief ( parent losing a child : emi ), religion ( turning away from : emi ) !

losing  friends  and  family  to  the  fog  and  blaming  yourself  for  not  being  more  vigilant,  taking  guardianship  of  your  little  sister  and  getting  a  second  job  to  make  sure  ends  meet,  trying  your  hardest  and  kicking  yourself  for  not  doing  better,  bloodied  knuckles  aggravated  by  vodka  to  clean  them  and  wrapped  so  tightly  you  fear  your  fingers  might  turn  blue,  anger  replaced  by  grief  replaced  by  the  understanding  she  needs  you  and  you  will  tear  down  the  rest  of  the  world  to  keep  her  safe.

nicholas adam locklear was born in inverness, scotland, and still has a scottish accent even though he’s been in the country for twenty years. 

nicky and his family moved to maine a few months before his seventh birthday. they moved to maine because his mother, a once american ex pat, had a father who wanted his kids to be closer because they all seemed to have scattered to the wind. he walked into the fog a week after the locklears had unpacked their home. 

the fog has always been a thing of morbid fascination from nicky and after grandpa took his walk into the woods, nicky was kept particularly far away from the forest line, fog warnings or not. on all saint’s day, the day after he turned eight, nicky found himself in the fog. and then he found himself in his bed with no explanation for either event. 

he started drawing that day, intricate sigils that gave themselves meaning but no voice, so he spoke them into existence: protection from sorcery, protection from evil, wards off negative energies, heal the body and the spirit. four symbols that he couldn’t stop drawing on everything he owned. homework, notebooks, on the walls of his home in crayon ( if you look in those spots today, in the locklear family home, they’re painted now. a whole interior room covered in the sigils intended to look like an artsy photo collage wall. ).

some in town say that the locklears are cursed, that their family bears bad blood, that they owed some kind of karmic debt too large for one life. whatever the rumor, they all boil down to one thing: too many locklears have gone missing in the fog. nicky’s paid little mind to them, though there’s a voice too strange to be his but too familiar to dismiss that encourages him to go in ( to go back ). 

nicky’s life revolves around his little sister, belle, who was born when he was twenty. a few months later, their mother went into the fog and their father went about an hour later to try and look for her. neither came home. though the courts tried to pass belle off to the next living relative, nicky petitioned for rights to guardianship because he lived in the home and could find a way to make ends meet for him to be belle’s caretaker. enter the diner and blue valley.

nicky’s always been a hard worker, never one to take a short cut and never one to take the easy way out. his focus has always been to take care of belle above board, so no one could have a reason to take away the last of his family. that little babe was his world and is nicky’s driving force in most things. he started working at the bar first and took on a job at the diner when he realized that tips got slow after a certain hour and what better way than to make more money by helping to sober up the people you just got drunk ?

when customers offer to buy nicky drinks, he usually puts together a couple of complimentary mixers ( cranberry juice, pineapple juice, and orange juice ) and pours in water from an old tito’s bottle to make it look like he’s adding tequila. he’ll pocket the cost of a drink as an extra tip. he never drinks on the job. 

his jobs aren’t glamorous but they keep the roof over his head and belle’s. he works 14 hour days ( 9 pm to 11 am ; 9 pm - 3 am at blue valley and 3:10 to 11 am at the diner ), 6 days a week ( sundays off ), 84 hours a week and he’s damn good at what he does, and seldom calls out for anything. nicky’s the kind of guy to pound three monsters and call it a day just to keep himself going. he’s used to running on little sleep because of his paternal role with belle and wanting to keep as engaged with her as possible. he usually leaves her with the finnegans so he doesn’t have to pay any babysitting money.

the one time nicky tried, dottie looked at the bills in his hand and just hugged him tightly and said, “no child of mine is going to pay me to watch theirs.” nicky cried that day and spent ten minutes crying into her shoulder and then slept on her couch for a few hours while belle played with the finnegan twins. 

nicky is a good person and he’s a really good dad. at 22 he became licensed in the state of maine to be able to foster and has fostered ten kids in the last five years. right now it’s just him and belle in the house that his parents bought that he keeps up as best as he can. the guest bathroom needed a remodel three years ago and the kitchen appliances only work when you knock on them the right way and if the wind’s blowing in the right direction, but some things are just the way that it is. 

other important things that i couldn’t work in above but you should know: 

nicky gives like ,,, just really comforting hugs that suggest a level of emotional intimacy that is likely to catch you pleasantly off guard. 

will help you buy your groceries because he has a better chance of making fifty dollars tonight than you do. 

usually sleeps on disney princess sheets because belle insisted they would look best in his room ( she was right ). his other sheets are bubblegum pink and he bought them for himself because that’s the vibe he was feeling and sometimes you just have to do what will put a smile on your face. 

his little sister is seven but nicky is the only parent she’s ever known and she usually calls him dad over nicky even though she knows the difference. 

nicky calls her his kid a lot. everyone in town pretty much knows the story. 

steady  hands  and  steady  heart  are  starting  to  shake,  pleading  with  officers  don’t  let  me  bury  an  empty  casket,  the  table  set  for  three  but  you  can’t  bring  yourself  to  put  the  plate  away,  pale  yellow  front  door  once  made  your  laugh  now  just  makes  you  sad  because  your  daughter’s  sunshine  still  lingers,  and  there’s  no  place  to  put  your  faith,  nothing  so  powerful  would  take  away  a  little  girl.

emi is considerably less fleshed out than nicky but we’re still going to do our best to give her a fair shake at an intro, so here goes ! 

noemi was born noemi sofia ibarra in pine haven, maine. though she’s always considered pine haven her home, she’s always desired that her upbringing was somewhere warmer. 

she’s a third generation doctor at the clinic, following in the footsteps of her grandfather and mother and knew from a young age that she wanted to help people. she bounced from pine haven for a while ( from ages 18 to 28 ) and followed her dreams to go somewhere warmer and graduated from emory university’s medical school in atlanta. 

she pushed through medical school immediately after graduating with her undergrad and returned to pine haven as a permanent resident when she was 29. having been home, officially, for ten years, she has found herself in the center of the community. more often than not, residents of town know they can call emi and come sit on her kitchen table if they need urgent care. 

life outside of pine haven’t wasn’t all medical school, though, because she also met her the father of her daughters. at 23 emi gave birth to her elder daughter, evangeline. that sweet little girl meant the world to her and emi spent double the amount of time awake those first semesters trying to get used to having a baby and school to balance. she was the center of emi’s universe, this baby and her father. 

emi’s second daughter, catalina, was born about eight years ago and is as much emi’s pride and joy as her older sister. the pair never fail to blow emi away in their creativity, kindness, and love, and she has made that known to them from the time they could open their eyes. though these times were sweet it’s time to fast forward to the current day because this is where emi shifts for the worse for as much as she doesn’t want to. 

two weeks ago, during the fog warning, evangeline wasn’t home with the family. emi was at work, locked down with a few patients, and when she didn’t get a phone call from her daughter, like she asks of all her family, she started to worry. panic didn’t settle in until after the fog warning and no one had heard from evangeline. frantic, begging, trying to stave off the final moments before the inevitable declaration, emi found herself begging the officers at the station: find me something to bury before absolutely crumbling against the weight of her own fears.

prior to her daughter’s disappearance, emi had put at least some stock into god but spite consumes her whenever she thinks about him. something all loving doesn’t steal child from the arms of their mother’s and something all powerful doesn’t let whatever lives in the forest to exist after taking the first soul. this town suffers because of that fog and venom pools in her mouth waiting to spit at the first person who proclaims that god will watch over her daughter. some people turn to faith for stability. emi has turned away. 

[everythingoesnk]

Once in Rockfield Farm (3/5)

summary; 🤡🔫

word count; 4 970

disclaimers; this is my least fave chapter don’t ask me why. tell me what u think please i’m so conflicted !!

warnings; nopeee

part 1

part 2

********

By the ridiculous number of plaques of the albums' sellings and accomplishments hanging along the corridors, it was quite obvious that EMI moved a lot of money.

With your middle finger, you went over the edge of one of the paintings. There wasn’t a single speck of dust on it.

The boys’ manager and lawyer invited you to wait for them outside.

Roger’d already warned you that they wouldn’t allow you to be present. Not that you cared or wanted to. But at some point you were growing tired of sitting alone doing absolutely nothing.

Once they abandoned the office after what seemed an endless time, you immediately hauled yourself to your feet.

“You’ll kiss the floor we step on as soon as we introduce you to A Night at the Opera, my dear," Freddie told Foster as he left the room.

Ray followed the grandiose Freddie with his eyes, a bit of mistrust in his face.

"I very much hope so" he answered before closing the door.

"It went well?" you asked to no one in particular, holding your purse against your tummy.

"We think so" Brian murmured.

"He doesn't believe we're going to present him the best album in history," Freddie bragged confidently as if it were definite that they were going to do so.

"Will you? Create the best album in history?" you smirked.

"Yep," John replied with all the sincerity in the world, leading the way to the elevator.

Roger stood beside you as the group left the building behind, and pulled a pack of ciggies out his pocket. In record time, he brought one urgently to his lips.

"You don’t think we can?" he inquired you, aiming the other way before blowing the smoke out.

You extended your hand and he understood the message.

Before shoving the package back, he took out another one, and with the cig hanging immobile in your mouth, Roger lit it for you.

At that exact moment, while he was concentrated on the task, you realized how long and thick his lashes were.

"I haven’t said such thing"

"Lovebirds, when you’re done with whatever it is you have to do, come to Mary's”

Roger nodded at Freddie’s words.

Posterior to waving the other three goodbye, you glanced at him with a puzzled expression.

"Right. This way"

"What are we doing?"

"Do you always have to ask questions?"

"And do you always have the habit of not answering when being asked?" you objected.

"When we get there you'll know it"

"You’re impossible" you groaned, and quickened your pace.

He took a new puff on the cigarette and looked at you jubilantly, pushing his tongue into his cheek, enjoying your harmless tantrum a little too much.

If only you knew how much he loved these domestic moments with you.

"Not that much, believe me"

In what sense is that addressed, even?

Although you didn’t speak much because Roger was intent on not getting lost, obediently following the instructions Clare had patiently listed him the night before, from time to time you exchanged a word to fill the silence.

You really appreciated the stroll. The last couple of weeks it’d been home-uni-home-uni-home-uni. You’d missed the active streets of London, the continuous loop of the loud noises and the accent.

"I think we’ve got to turn to the right"

He didn’t seem completely sure of his own words, and because of how fast his eyes moved from side to side, you knew he was struggling.

Eventually, he managed to ubicate himself.

"We have to cross the park and technically we’ll be able to see it"

"You'll see it, you mean. I don’t know what there is to see"

Roger rolled his eyes and put his hand on your lower back to guide you.

Checked first if it was okay to go ahead, and ignoring that the light was red, you passed the zebra crossing together.

Bringing you back to an old memory, it made you recall how several weeks ago you witnessed the boyfriend of a classmate of yours do the same with her with hectic traffic when they were late for their class. Nevertheless, it was also something a father could do with his daughter.

Why were you spinning around the matter? Nonsense.

But it was cute that he kept you close while crossing the street, though. Had it been a reflex action or had he been fully aware of doing so?

The thread of your thoughts caused you to space out, and as a result you didn't notice until then that you were approaching the exit of the aforementioned park.

Your heart enlarged a couple of sizes when he nonchalantly slipped his hand out of your back to entangle his pinkie with yours.

The pulsations your heart kept on producing were hard, so hard they hurt. Persistent and quick like a hummingbird’s flap.

As lightly and subtle as he did, you slowly proceed to move your fingers and hold his hand in its entirety, both of you looking ahead as if looking at each other would turn out to be too much right now.

It all felt too intimate, hands being the only method you used to talk to one another during the remaining bit of the walk until the final destination.

Roger stopped walking, and you did too.

You fixed your eyes on the store window before them: there were two mannequins wearing sets that genuinely caught your attention. From where you were stood, the store seemed to be empty. Sign that it was expensive. The walls inside were painted with neat white, thin golden lines forming patterns on the walls. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, so large that you were surprised it stayed in place without falling off, dragging the roof along with it.

You looked suspiciously at Roger.

"What are we doing here?"

“See if you find out yourself. After you," suggested Roger, and as on the day you met, gesticulated you to go first.

A tune rang in the background announcing your arrival after you stepped right in. It made the employee’s head lift up. She left her position behind the cashier and walked towards you. Her outfit was all white with a golden headband, matching the drawings on the walls and the rest of the store.

When the three of you were together, you noticed that both of you wearing heels surpassed Roger by a few tiny inches. It didn’t seem to bother him, perhaps he didn’t even detect it.

"Good morning. How can I help you?"

"Clare’s friend?" Roger asked.

"Oh, Roger and (Y/N), I’m guessing. Very well, come with me"

The girl marched away, Roger with her.

He turned around and stopped when he saw you hadn’t moved.

"Ay, what's all this?" you whispered, not wanting the woman to hear you as not to be impolite.

And who the hell was Clare?

Roger grinned.

"This is my surprise"

Head in a muddle, you let Roger lead you to a small room filled with clothing items where the saleswoman’d been waiting for you.

A tray of tea and freshly made biscuits filled the air with a nice scent of sweet and salty.

"Our firm is not particularly well known for its catalogue of dresses, we rather excel at accessories such as handbags and glasses. Either way, I hope you find one you like. Anything you need, call me"

In the blink of an eye she was gone.

"Roger, care to explain?" you asked after a pause, looking around.

"Yesterday you mentioned you didn't have your graduation dress. I know your father's behaviour saddened you, I thought this would cheer you up"

"Shopping? Don’t tell me that, Roger. I didn’t take you for a sexist"

He looked like if you just hit him across the face.

"No... I never... I didn’t mean... I just wanted to have a nice touch, to buy it to thank you for—"

"I'm messing with you. Of course I don't think you're a sexist. I know very well you did it with the best of— What did you say? Buy it?"

Wide-eyed, you were shaking your head no.

"Yes. Buy it"

"Why would you do that?"

"To thank you for your hospitality"

Also because Roger simply wanted to give you the world, but since it's something that takes time, he decided this was a way to start. But he meant what he said: adopting four crazy and weird children for months… no one in their goddamn right mind would have agreed to that.

The first couple of following days after their arrival, having very little confidence around any of them, you didn’t really hang out together. Still and all, after some time but soon enough, you learnt that the four of them were warmhearted, fun and loving people.

"I know how hard you’re working to earn that diploma. We’re proud of you"

"Roger, you already pay me a rent. And I know you are, but it’s not necessary. You don’t have to do this, I can pay for it myself” you said too quickly.

“I know you can” he shrugged, letting you know he wasn’t going to change his mind.

Because of the look he was giving you, all defensive, you knew he already made the decision.

Arguing was only going to make you lose a valuable amount of time you could invest in killing the curiosity raised by the outstanding dresses displayed out front.

Following Roger's orders to take a good look at them, you picked three that you thought were pretty and elegant. One was black and the other two different shades of blue.

When you glanced up at Roger to tell him you were done choosing, he was no longer on the small sofa near the fitting room devouring the biscuits like the last time you saw him.

A one-sided grin lifted the corner of your mouth when you spotted him snooping on the other side of the room, rummaging through the dresses as well to be occupied. By his expression of absolute concentration it seemed that he was really putting effort and interest in the mission beforehand.

He turned around unexpectedly and smiled delightedly at you.

Every time he did smile like that, you could feel your soul leaving your body.

From time to time you had these intermissions where the world around you gradually began to slow down, Roger Taylor as your only source of light.

It was one of those.

"I have these," you said shyly after some time of you two staring at each other. "Have you found any I could try on?"

“Not really”

Seventeen minutes since you entered the dressing room. Roger was bored.

“Can I see?”

“No. The black one’s so ugly on me” you roared, looking at yourself in the mirror.

“You’re not being objective. Let me see”

“No”

“You look gorgeous”

You quickly turned on your heels, ready to hit him in the head for not listening, but he was nowhere to be seen. How the hell…?

“How can you tell?”

“I just know”

You laughed it off, blushing.

“So cheesy”

“But you’re smiling”

“Roger! Are you seeing me?” you asked, staring intently at every part of the curtain to see if maybe there was a tiny hole in it where he’d been peeking at you.

“No, but I can hear it in your voice”

“Shut up” you giggled.

“Can I see now?”

“No, you can’t”

God.

You weren’t sure about this.

You weren’t sure about this at all.

Roger taking the credit card out of his wallet to pay for something that was not going to be his but yours made you all flustered and uncomfortably red as hell itself in the face.

You took his hand before he could pass it to the woman.

“(Y/N), stop” he chuckled and gave her the card anyway.

He pulled you closer to him and kissed your cheek so casually, like if said actions didn’t have consequences. Hello? Your heart combusting, perhaps?

“There you go,” the woman handed him the bag, “tell your sister I said hi”

“I will” Roger nodded.

“Your sister? Clare?”

"Uh-huh"

“Younger or older?”

“Younger”

"You didn't tell me you had a younger sister," you said as you two initiated your way to Mary's.

"You didn't ask. Aren't you gonna tell me which dress you've chosen?" he cocked an eyebrow at you. "I paid for it, I believe I have the right to—"

You wanted him to see it the day of the ceremony, to make it a surprise as well.

"Please don't remind me you bought it. It's embarrassing"

Roger snorted a chuckle.

“Oh my God, woman. You’re so worried about it”

"We've got to be frank here. Mary told me you guys are broke, because you had issues with… whoever in the past. And now you take me to an upper high-class store to buy me a dress. Don't take me wrong, but I just don’t get it”

“Don’t have to swear on it” he noted quietly to the last part.

You sure weren’t getting anything.

“We firmed a contract we shouldn’t have. Life goes on and we’re with Rheid now, about to launch a masterpiece that will change our lives forever. Every penny he’s given us is for the album, but I know it’s gonna pay off. Of the little I had left from before, I wanted to do this. It’s my money. I do whatever the fuck I want with my money”

You didn’t say anything, perplexed.

He wished you'd understand the real reason why he wanted to make you happy. To cover your whims. To take care of you.

“So,” you spoke after a while, breaking the ice, “A Night at the Opera”

“Freddie’s suggestion. Do you like it?”

“I do. It’s weird, but it sounds like Queen”

He grinned.

//

Freddie said that enough was enough, that they deserved to disconnect from work for the group’s sanity.

They were getting ready at Mary’s to head to the nearest pub –putting it in his words— to dance until their feet bled and hopefully drink like psychopaths. He dictated how disappointed he’d be in them if they didn’t wake up naked and hangover in the middle of nowhere.

He was now in the bathroom applying black eyeliner to John.

“Can we come?”

Mary and you opted for a chill sleepover at first, but you changed your mind and managed to persuade her to go out as well, telling her you couldn’t remember the last time you went partying together.

Brian and John didn’t speak up, expecting Roger to do. When you saw that neither of them were saying a word, you turned your gaze towards him. He was wearing a seemingly chill unbothered facade, pushing aside how your request had tickled his stomach.

"Sure" Roger replied, mouth curving into a perfect smile.

Mary told you you could choose whatever you wanted from her closet in case you wanted to change to a more appropriate outfit for the occasion.

The two of you hurried upstairs.

It was evident that once you were there you were gonna dance all freaking night, so you picked a pair of denim bell-bottoms to be comfortable, a basic top, and kept the pair of black heels you had on already. Then you ran to touch up a little the makeup you had previously put on in the morning, adding a bit of glitter to your cheekbones.

Listening to the front door open and Freddie screaming to get your fat asses down there, Mary rushed to put a sparkly belt on while both of you trotted down the stairs.

“We’re coming!” you shouted, jumping to skip the last three rungs.

Sliding the back of your hand across the forehead to remove the sweat, you took Mary by the arm and escorted her to the opposite end of the pub, fleeing from the group of girls who were screaming at you for having spilt drink on them by accident. Mary tried not to fall while you made your way through the congregation of people going against your flow.

You raised your arms and kept dancing carefreely, ignoring the looks of all kinds you received.

Mary knew she’d never be on the same level as you. Her knees were begging to stop, meanwhile you were as fresh as a rose. It didn’t seem like you’d been dancing for over two hours without a break.

The boys, even Freddie, had also thrown in the towel a while ago.

"(Y/N), I'm going with Freddie!" Mary shouted, grasping you by the shoulder.

"What about me?"

"Come, I’m not keen on leaving you on your own" with this said, she began to gently push you towards where the boys were.

You were careful not to stumble since the drinks you had consumed earlier were already coming into effect. The purple, yellow and blue lights that illuminated the area disorientated you, so without question you let Mary lead you.

"Mary, I've saved you a seat, darling" Freddie said, patting the empty space next to him.

You frowned when you saw there was no room left for you in the booth.

"Shit”

John laughed when he heard the disappointment in your drunken voice.

Roger didn’t stutter. He held your hand and sat you on his lap.

"I don’t like this posture. Your thigh will hurt you, y’know what I mean?" you slurred.

Yet your actions were contradictory, because you moved to squeeze against him, too exhausted all of a sudden.

"I'll handle it," he murmured, fighting the instincts that grew inside him to touch you everywhere.

Fiddling with your necklace, you looked at the people on the dance floor.

You’d been wasting your time with them, bizarrely enjoying being so proximate to Roger more.

Speaking of the devil, the bastard had unbuttoned his shirt at some point.

The top you wore had its back completely uncovered; as a result, your sticky skin collided with his. Not that you complained, in fact, the contact made you horny. Could it possibly be that you were just dreadfully drunk and that your five senses were way more sensitive than usual? And that it didn’t have anything to do with Roger?

You’d been secretly having lascivious dreams concerning him for a hot minute, but resigned to admire from a distance. So no, he absolutely was the one to blame.

Roger waved his glass of tequila, offering you some.

As you were already drunk from the shots you had with John as soon as you stepped in, when you threw your head back to swallow til the very last drop, a lot of the liquid dripped down the sides of your mouth, staining your top and wetting your neck.

You laughed, clearly too tipsy to be upset.

Roger watched you attentively.

Many inappropriate thoughts seized him as he saw the liquid running down your collarbone.

You deposited the glass back on the table.

“You won’t be dancing anymore?” Roger asked.

“Perhaps at another time. I like it here”

“I like it too” he replied, and added in a small voice the following request hoping you wouldn’t get to hear it through the music. “Don’t leave”

You listened without interest as Brian and Freddie exchanged opinions on whether they should or shouldn't add a guitar solo in an almost finished song. John looked at them as if it were a tennis match, throwing glances at Mary from time to time that she returned. They knew they had to act before they started an argument, so Mary proposed to go dance some more.

Freddie followed her, and you saw him complaining to her about Brian's last-minute changes. John gestured Brian for the two of them to leave the booth as well, pointing discreetly with his thumb back to Roger and you: Brian understood.

"They’ve abandoned us" you stated, staring at your friends walking away until they were no longer in sight.

Now it was you sitting on the leather sofa, with Roger tucked between your legs –clearly if he sat on your lap he wouldn’t even last five minutes because you wouldn’t put up with it any longer than that, so it wasn’t worth a try—.

You had your feet against the edge of the table, legs wide apart to make room for him. At first he wasn’t sure, but quickly changed his mind when your fingers slipped into his hair, lazily massaging his scalp.

The idea occurred when he proved your point, telling you to sit on his left thigh because the other was getting numb.

He was in a trance, and felt his eyelids heavier by every second, not because he was sleepy but because of the pleasure.

“Fuck” Roger muttered thoughtlessly with his eyes closed, catching you off guard.

A sudden increase in your heartbeat, now irregular, rattled you.

“Wh-what?”

Embarrassment crept up his face when you stopped.

“Sorry, I don’t know what was that, it just felt good and—“

Your core was throbbing. You were so confused but so pumped at the same time.

“You want me to continue?”

He turned his head and scanned your features. He definitely didn't expect that, thought you'd want him to get off you instantly.

The intense eye contact that followed earned you another electrifying whip that shook every corner of your body.

When Roger went back to his initial position, you smiled mischievously.

He had to keep biting back his moans throughout the entire thing.

The mixture of alcohol running at an unrestrained rhythm through your veins, including how dangerously turned on you were by Roger’s constant heavy breaths, pushed you to take a step further: you traced your finger along the curve of his jawline, painfully slow, and with the tip of your nose you drew patterns on his neck, observing hungrily his Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard.

Roger looked up at the ceiling and attempted to count its tiles. Anything that'd distract him from having a boner, really.

"You good?" you teased with a smile, whispering near his ear.

"I wish I could answer honestly"

"Do it, I won’t judge"

He ran a hand through his golden hair, feeling really irritated that this was happening now, where he couldn’t rip your clothes off.

Saying he was having a hard time keeping it together doesn’t do justice to the reality of how much he had to retain himself.

"Say it" you insisted, intrigued.

In a hoarse whisper, pretty much thanks to the alcohol and the inebriety that your touch drowned him in, he grew the balls to actually say what was crossing his mind.

“I’ve never had the urge to taste a woman this bad”

You grinned, and that throbbing kept escalating.

“Oh, Rog. You couldn’t be any more subtle, could you?” you laughed, burying your hand one more time in the mess that his hair was, pulling it.

Literally, you couldn’t control yourself.

It’s his fault!, claimed a voice in your head. For being too fucking irresistible.

"Don't" he desperately groaned, taking your hand in his.

He sat straight.

“Why?”

Roger gave a small sexy laugh, and he turned to look at you in the eye, shoving the hair back of his face.

“Wanna hear me say it or feel it yourself instead?”

“(Y/N)”

A bad feeling that you did something terrible sunk in when you saw Mary towering over you, her mouth set in a line.

If yours'd been watering seconds ago because of Roger's cock being hard because of you, now it was as arid as the Sahara desert.

"I need a ‘you-know-what’," she said, the ‘you-know-what’ item usually being a tampon. This time it was only a petition for you to follow her quickly, “come with me”

Once inside a bathroom stall, she locked the door and sat on top of the toilet seat, crossing her arms and looking at you as if you were the biggest crackhead in the world.

"What the fuck was that? What were you thinking? What was all that about?" she argued.

"I don’t understand a word you’re saying"

"If I’d gotten there just ONE second later you’d be sucking him dry right now. Don’t play dumb with me, (Y/N)”

You leant your back against the door.

"Mary, cutie, this conversation’s stupid"

She put her hands on her hips. It made you giggle that she was so angry.

"I already explained to you what Roger is like. Once he gets what he wants, he’ll forget you and drool over the next one" she hissed matter-of-factly.

"Why are you acting like I’m in love with him or something? We’re adults having a good time. If there’s physical attraction, why shouldn’t we able to fuck?"

She winced, and focused on the first question only.

“You aren’t?”

You furrowed your brow. Okay, maybe the conversation was more serious than you thought. Alcohol slowing your brain down didn’t help the situation either.

“You’re being weird”

“And you’re being an asshole! Are you even listening to me? Roger’s a—“

“What?! What is he, Mary?! Enlighten me! And I do listen to you, always! Sure I remember me phoning you after that day I sang ‘All Too Well’ to him and you saying I shouldn’t get too close. But he’s been nothing but nice to me, M. He’s polite, funny, sweet… What the hell did he do to you?” you asked, staring at her with a look of incredulity, not recognizing the person in front of you.

“To me? What he did to endless women that once were in your place. He’s used them all and he’ll use you too”

When she pointed an accusing finger at your chest, where the heart is, you could feel yours dropping.

That you liked each other physically was undeniable, but what you didn’t know was that you cared about him so intensely. When and how did that happen?

It was true that out of Queen he was the one you talked to the most and the one you had the best time with, always joking and finding interesting subjects to talk about. Above everything else, he became a confidant. And it felt mutual up until now.

Had he been toying with you just to get in your pants?

“But… he helped me cope with my dad, and…”

“And what was he supposed to do?”

“And today…,” speaking was so hard. You were scared you’d choke clumsily with your own saliva, “today he bought me a dress. For my graduation”

Mary’s strong gaze changed, and she pulled herself to her feet. You swore something was eating her alive internally, but she was good at pretending she had it all together.

“Buying your love and attention. I saw it coming”

Mary let a calculated pause set between you two.

“You’re my best friend, (Y/N). I don’t enjoy doing this. I… I want to protect you”

She sighed and left when you didn’t open your mouth.

A couple of minutes later, you did too.  Staring at yourself in the smudged mirror, you couldn’t tell whether you needed to go home or have twenty more drinks.

“Finally” you suddenly heard Roger say. He hugged you from behind right away, stopping you from literally rushing to John to tell him you wanted to leave. “I missed you, love”

Although you noticed your pulse rapidly accelerating, Mary's words seemed to be floating through your mind with a big neon sign with the word “alert” above them. She’d known Roger for a longer period of time than you did, and saw every lover appear and vanish whenever he found a new interest.

It just… You had to accept that one way or another, Roger was most likely to create damage.

“I want to go home, I’m wasted”

“Go home? We’re having a good time” he pulled you closer once again, his hands resting on your stomach.

He debated whether to bite your earlobe or not. One second later, he went for it.

You moaned. Loud. You wanted him to do it again.

“No, stop” you turned around and took two steps backwards, convincing you it was for the best.

He looked nothing but shattered.

“What’s the matter?”

“Forget what happened earlier. It was foolish”

Roger blinked too many times. He didn’t want to believe that you were being serious.

However, you looking everywhere but him was everything he needed to confirm you meant it.

Anger, exasperation and hurt clouded his face.

“So, we were this close” he began, his thumb and forefinger almost touching, “to make out about ten minutes ago, and now you want me to simply pretend it didn’t happen?”

“Well, I don’t want to ‘make out’ anymore, easy as that”

“I just can’t fucking wrap my head around it” he snapped.

It wasn’t about making out or not: he enjoyed your company and loved the way you made him feel when you were together. And he thought… you felt the same.

His heart was pounding so fast in his chest he thought he’d suffer a stroke.

You lapsed into silence, broken only by the one thing that made Roger understand why you were rejecting him.

“All girls swoon for you. Find another one to spend the night with, it won’t take you long, really. And please do forget about whatever happened between us in the booth”

It sounded way crueller than you wanted to. You wished you could take it back, but what's done cannot be undone.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything for a while.

Knuckles white and breathing uneven, Roger got closer and bent forward invading your personal space.

“Assuming I’m a womanizer, eh?” he replied coldly, jaw hard.

Curling up into a ball and crying never appealed to you that much before.

“Don’t worry. I will”

********

tagging; @sweetdaisys @multifics @incorrcctqueen @namelesslosers @benders-diamond-earring

[nyxdelanuit]

A Dream In Red Ch18

A03

You had to admit, you felt a little guilty walking back to the dorms arm-in-arm with Kaminari. Especially when you saw your favorite redhead waiting nervously outside your building. You were lucky you had the foresight to tuck his present into some of the other bags you had gathered throughout the day.

Kirishima was a storm of emotions as you approached. The spicy tang of his jealousy and anger was only enriched by the subtle flavors of his relief. Kaminari unhooked your arms apprehensively, although he had enjoyed teasing his friend, he didn’t truly want to anger him. You took a step closer to Kirishima, Kaminari waiting behind you.

“So what, do you just not understand what bed rest means?” You flinched a bit at the anger that seeped into his words. “And you!” He pointed at Kaminari, “What were you thinking? What if something had happened while you were out? No one knew where she was!” You were torn between placating your friend and being angry that he didn’t seem to let you make your own decisions.

He opened his mouth to continue airing his grievances against Kaminari, but you just step closer. You placed a hand on his chest, not as warmly as you usually do.

“First of all, I’m the one who messaged Kaminari, so don’t be an ass. I probably would have wandered off even if he didn’t show up. Be glad I took someone with me. Secondly, am I just crazy or am I not an adult? I can make my own decisions, even if they end up being bad ones.” You didn’t have it in you to keep being upset. You were just feeling tired.

Kirishima cursed softly and took a step back. He ran a hand through his hair roughly, turning back to you. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He didn’t look happy about it. You knew he felt compelled to protect you, but you refused to let your boundaries get disrespected as Inasa had done.

Seeing him relent, you softened your heart. Your hand ran over his shoulder, further calming him. He shot you a small smile, but you still saw the hardness in his eyes as he looked towards Kaminari. You shot the blond a wave, walking past the two men. Your bed was calling.

Morning brought you some relief. With a salve still shining on your skin, you were able to stretch without wincing at the dull pain in your ribs. You still had a day off of class, but that did not mean you wanted to lounge about another day. You dressed yourself in baggy clothes, trying to keep them from sticking to your skin as the salve absorbed into your sickly colored bruises. Everyone else had already left for their morning classes, and you took your time starting your day.

You left your bag in your dorm, only taking a wallet and keys with you. It wouldn’t do you any good to push yourself today and let everyone think you needed more time to heal. The walk to campus was quiet, the early summer birds and bugs providing a calming background. It would have been eerie if you hadn’t heard the murmuring of classes once you entered the buildings.

A quick rap on the door and you let yourself into Ms. Joke’s office. Even if you weren’t in class, you could still perform your student aide duties. The mint-haired pro greeted you warmly, passing you a schedule for today. As you scanned today’s appointments, you nearly groaned. It was definitely a busy first day back.

The two of you caught up shortly, waiting for the first counseling appointment for the day. All the students currently attending had signed off on your presence in their sessions, but it didn’t stop you from feeling as if you were intruding on something too intimate.

The first few sessions passed quickly, mostly follow-ups from previous appointments. You could tell Ms. Joke was passionate about the mental health of the pupils under her. It wasn’t unusual to see a familiar face from your class. Still, you weren’t expecting someone so familiar so soon.

Tetsutetsu meekly peeked around the door. He met your eyes, more bashful than you had grown accustomed to.

“Hey, Tetsu.” You gave him a soft smile, ushering him into the room. Ms. Joke sat on a plush armchair across from the couch you sat Tetsutetsu on. You picked another armchair next to the couch, not knowing if Tetsu wanted you to keep a professional air about this.

You were glad he took your advice to talk to Ms. Joke about the guilt he was feeling for your match earlier in the week. Both you and Joke had tried to reason against his guilt, to no avail.

“Tetsu, I’m proud of your quick thinking and even quicker action. I was trying to get in your head and you were able to keep me out and take me down. Granted, I still won, but if it had been only me…” He sighed and you tore yourself away from that tangent.

“When you’re fighting against villains, you can’t feel guilty about when you stop them. You also can’t drop everything when someone you care about gets hurt. That’s how people die.” Ms. Joke’s voice was soft but stern. It was a lesson all heroes had to take to heart, “You have to assess each situation. Make sure that all danger has been taken care of, you are our front line. We have support heroes for a reason. Once you can be sure that no danger will come to civilians and your fellow pro-heroes, then you can start assisting the support heroes. You can only let yourself fuss and worry after all that is over.” You could tell Tetsu understood what she was saying logically, but it didn’t assuage his guilt marring his face. He felt the couch dip next to him, and your hand soft upon his arm.

“May I?” You said quietly, glancing over to Ms. Joke for her approval as well. Tetsu gave you a soft nod, and Joke made no move to stop you. Tetsu followed your breathing, exhaling alongside you as he let you slip into his thoughts. You made no effort to make his abstract thoughts more concrete, instead, focusing on sharing yours. Your feelings of calmness, clarity, and no ill-will toward your friend. You touched your head to his, your breaths mingling as you tried to console his gnawing feelings, urging a wave of contentedness to flow between the two of you.

You heard a sniff from across the room, pulling you out of your headspace. You had known Joke long enough to realize when she could no longer stand being so serious. Tetsu opened his eyes, not knowing when they had fell shut, and quickly pushed you from his head.

“You’re just so sweet. I swear you’re going to give me cavities.” Ms. Joke cooed at you, distracting you from the red sheen on Tetsu’s face. “I’m so proud of my little girl.” Ms. Joke sprung up, wrapping you up in her arms.

“I’m not your daughter, Emi.” You whined, causing Joke to shush you.

“It’s Ms. Joke when there are students in the room, kiddo.” She giggled. Joke led the three of you through some breathing- and giggling- exercises to ease the tension that had grown in the room.

“Hey, so do you want to sit in on Fatgum’s class? That’s where I’m off to next.” Tetsu shouted over his shoulder, half-way out the door. Ms. Joke nudged you toward the door, as much of a dismissal as you would get. You nodded to the silvery boy, threading your fingers through his as you followed out the door.

Ms. Joke watched the door swing shut behind them, scoffing to herself. “Oh, Joke, I can read minds and know people’s feeelings.” She chuckled to herself. “She’s still so oblivious when it’s about her.” She smiled gently, running her fingers over a small frame with Aizawa’s picture. “Just like someone else I know.”

You sat to the side of the gym as people filed in for class. Fatgum was happy to see you, as always. He offered you a candy as you got comfortable, the small strawberry sweet spreading throughout your senses. It was so distracting that you almost missed the smoldering smokiness of Kirishima’s anger as he spotted you, chatting with Tetsu. You quickly snapped your eyes to him, making his step falter. You quickly excused yourself with a brush of your hand on Tetsu’s arm. Class hadn’t started yet, so you were easily able to pull Kirishima to the side without drawing attention.

You weren’t even sure what to say to him. He knew he shouldn’t be angry at his friend any longer, but feelings weren’t logical. How do you fight against something with no logic? Instead, your hand drifted to the faded bruise on Kirishima’s cheek, and your lips followed after. You felt him freeze up underneath your touch. It hurt to see his reaction to something toeing the line of friendliness, cementing your worry at your growing feelings. You swallowed the hurt for later, smiling up at your best friend.

“Kick some ass for me today, Kiri.” You gave him another small smile before escaping to Fatgum’s observation table. You sat behind the table, ready to watch with Fatgum. You watched in confusion as Fatgum wandered the gym, pairing people and sending them off. The group shrunk as pairs wandered to sectioned off areas, stretching and engaging in light sparring. Two people were left standing, motionless and refusing to meet each other's eyes.

“Alright, boys. Go at it.” Your eyes widened in surprise as Fatgum sunk into the seat next to you. Kirishima and Tetsutetsu seemed to share your surprise as they tensed on the other side of the table. Fatgum motioned in front of him with a hand, “Well, get started.” The boys wandered a bit further from the table, facing each other awkwardly.

You turned to Fatgum, about to protest, but a harsh sound drew your attention. You weren’t sure who struck out first, but Kirishima and Tetsutetsu were currently locked against each other. They struggled against each other before parting. There was barely a moment between their blows, their movement fueled by their raging emotions. It was quickly becoming a battle of attrition, neither giving the other the chance to land a solid blow. It almost hurt to watch them go so hard against each other, especially against the stark background of the other students sparring lazily.

Each hit and Kirishima seemed to grow sharper, his jabs hitting harder. Tetsutetsu seemed to have a harder time keeping his energy up. You were sure it was due to all the guilt he had been carrying that week. Anxiety had been building as you watched, keeping you on the edge of the seat. You wondered in passing why Fatgum hadn’t stopped this spar, it didn’t seem like this was helping either of the boys you had become so close to. Then he didn’t have to.

Tetsutetsu moved to fall back, but Kirishima followed, sending a jab straight to the metallic boy’s body. As Tetsutetsu recoiled from the unanticipated attack, Kirishima followed up with a hook straight into his face. The metal covering his face cracked, and Tetsutetsu fell back, raising his arms to yield.

To your surprise, Kirishima reached out an arm to help Tetsu to his feet, a smile on both boys’ faces. Fatgum stood and made his way over to them.

“Feel better?” He grunted. They nodded, almost in unison, and Fatgum gave both of them a soft knock on the head. “Good, next time leave your feelings outside of class.” He dismissed them and fell back into his chair.

“Wait, so that’s it? All that brooding and all they needed was to punch it out?” You cried out, incredulous. Fatgum chuckled with a nod.

“For how sensitive they are, they still work things out through actions. Not that you didn’t help too.” His eye slid to your face. “Don’t think I didn’t see you try to placate them both before class.” You flushed with embarrassment and shrugged. “You just keep being yourself, makin’ this world a little brighter.” You nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. He dismissed you for the day, reminding you to take it easy lest the boys become more overprotective.

You approached the boys as they spoke near the gym doors. As they saw you, their conversation became less boisterous and animated, but the looks on their faces softened to the grins you were used to seeing. That was how you found yourself being escorted back to the dorms, one boy on each arm. You basked in the glow of familiarity between the two men on either side of you as if the past two days had never occurred. They did, however, still fuss over you like a child.

“Come on, darling, just spend the rest of the day in the dorms, for us?” Kiri smiled down at you. You were upset at how well that worked against you. You didn’t answer, just jutted out your bottom lip in a childish pout. If they were going to treat you like a child, surely you had grounds to act like one.

“Yeah, don’t make us worry any more than we already have! All you gotta do is kick your feet up and chill for a few hours.” Tetsu chimed in. Now that they had reconciled, they focused their efforts on making sure you took your downtime seriously. You sighed in thanks as the dorm doors came within sight, slipping your hands from the arms that had caged them in. As you went to shelter yourself within the doors, away from prying eyes and pleading voices, a hand caught yours.

Kirishima turned you to face him, your joined hands falling between you. His free hand rose to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his eyes.

“Please, darling. A few hours cooped up here and then I’ll let you do whatever you want with me when I get back. I’ll even pick up some takeout on the way in.” You felt your face growing warm under his hand, and warmth pooled in your stomach. He could have stopped at the word darling and you would have agreed. You nodded softly, not trusting your voice.

This was not the closest you had been to him by far, why did this time seem to hold more weight? More emotion at the very least. You let your head wander instead of focusing on how close he was and how easy it would be to lean up and-

And his lips met your forehead, almost like an afterthought. “Thank you, Princess. We’ve gotta run now, I’ll see you tonight.” You watched, almost stunned as Kirishima and Tetsu ran off, almost certainly late for their next class. Softly touching your forehead, his words repeated in your head. Your face grew hotter, had he meant for his words to be so… suggestive?

Your legs worked on autopilot as you made your way into the dorms. You made a beeline for the common area, intent on collapsing on one of the couches for the time being. With a huff, you vaulted yourself over the back of a couch, instantly colliding with another body. You scrambled back into the arm of the couch, trying to give your unwilling cushion some space.

“Now, dove, I usually don’t mind being woken up with a warm body pressed against me, but that was a little rough for my liking.” A tired voice groaned out, sparking almost as much recognition as his soft lavender locks.

“I’m so sorry, Shinsou. If I knew you were crashing here, I never would have catapulted myself onto your back.” You helped him up into a more comfortable position as your fretted over him. He accepted your help before waving you off, clearly more irritated than injured.

“It’s fine, I probably shouldn’t make a habit out of taking naps in unfamiliar places, lest I end up like that old man.” He smiled, seemingly at a memory of his. With a shake of his head, he focused back on you.

You narrowed your eyes at him, realization dawning across your features, “What are you doing here, Shinsou? It’s the middle of the week.” He huffed a chuckle at you as your body leaned toward him, questioning. His finger pressed against your forehead, pushing you back into the couch.

“Ouch, Princess, first you jump me and then don’t even allow me to recuperate before interrogating me. I’m hurt.” He grinned at you, now invading your space as you had done to him. Warmth spread across your face, surely you were vibrant red. “Cat got your tongue, Princess?” He smirked before allowing some distance between your bodies. “My classes got canceled for the rest of the week. Seems like there was some sort of emergency that requested a large part of the hero staff. I checked in, but they said my quirk wouldn’t be beneficial to… whatever it is that’s going on.” He sunk into the couch with a sigh, “So I decided to come waste some time here. Our little Pikachu told me that you also had some free time on your hands. I thought maybe I could finally get some one-on-one time with the resident baby of the group.” He shot you a tired wink.

You huffed, “I think I’m older than some of you.” Even as you said it, you couldn’t help but think you did sound childish. He shook his head softly.

“Being baby is not about age. Anyways, I bet you’re feeling a little pent up after a few days down. Wanna play around with our quirks?” His smile turned sinister, and you couldn’t help but mirror it. You and Shinsou had met up quite a few times with the rest of the group, but you knew enough to keep your mouth closed after a declaration like that.

Knowing he would be prepared, you dove into his mind. You didn’t bother holding back, as this wasn’t true training and no one would be actively attacking you. You were unsure if it was due to his quirk, but his mental fortitude was unlike any you had seen before. He had let you in enough to communicate but his mind was built in an almost labyrinthine pattern. Most people had their one wall to either break or scale, but brute force would not work on Shinsou’s mind.

It was a back and forth between the two of you, your eyes hazy and unfocused as you meandered through his maze. It would be easy to traverse if it was anyone other than Shinsou, all you needed to get further was to get him to open up and talk.

The last time you had gathered as a group, Shinsou had brought up an interesting theory. He wondered if he could take control of your mind while communicating through his. You were unsure, but while you poked around in his head you couldn’t help wondering yourself. You were too competitive to let him win easily if it were true. So you gave as little as you could, still asking enough to get through the gaps in his defenses. You never truly responded.

“Come on, Kitten, give me something to work with.” You heard his voice echo in your head, the remnants of heat on your face rekindling at the unfamiliar pet name. Unlike you, Shinsou had the advantage of sight, watching the red bloom across your cheeks. “Oh, sweet thing, is that your weakness? I should have caught on earlier. Although…” You felt the spicy-sweet of mischievousness roll across your senses.

“It doesn’t quite hit the same from me, does it?” You knew the smirk Shinsou would have across his face. “No, you always show the cutest faces when Kirishima calls you sweet things.” You felt yourself shiver as Kirishima’s name rolled off Shinsou’s tongue in the most seductive voice you’ve ever heard from the boy.

It startled you as you heard Kirishima’s voice inside Shinsou's head, but you shouldn’t have been surprised. Shinsou had worked with his voice modifier enough that it was basically part of him. “What was it again? Princess, Buttercup, Dove, no…” The sick excitement you felt sent a chill through your veins.

“No, it was Darling. My darling princess, won’t you answer me?” You bit your lip to stop yourself from replying, but that didn’t stop your mind. It came from you unbidden, a simple muttering.

“Kiri…” The comfortable wave of being separated from your mind washed over you. It felt like floating, but you could still observe from outside of your body.

“Come here, Princess,” Shinsou ordered with a smirk. You watched as your body crawled across the couch and onto his lap, Shinsou adjusting you to straddle his lap. You felt a dazed embarrassment, you had been this close to Shinsou before, but usually after a few drinks. You watched as he pulled your head down near his, placing your head on his shoulder. His breath was warm on your ear, but it was a faint sensation to you. You could live blissfully under his mind control.

“I know your secret, Princess. You were trying to get into my mind, but I think I got into yours.” You felt his smile more than you saw it. “You’re in love, aren’t you. You keep trying to fight it, but you can’t hide it from me.” You would normally feel shocked or anxious at his words, but you couldn’t find the will to do more than numbly exist in the throes of his quirk.

You must have been wandering Shinsou’s mind for longer than you thought because the squad was starting to filter in through the door. Shinsou’s smile widened against your hair.

“Oh, hey… guys…” You heard Kirishima’s voice filter through the fog. You watched for a moment as he took in the sight of you sitting on Shinsou’s lap. Kaminari joined him shortly, his mouth stretched into a thin line.

“Hey, guys. We were just playing a little game between two mind people. Don’t mind us.” Shinsou gave you a tap on the thigh. “Princess, why don’t you go show Kirishima how much you missed him.” He grinned wildly at you as your body moved on its own. Your cloudy eyes passed over Kaminari, who looked more exasperated than upset, and move swiftly to Kirishima’s side. Your arms hung numbly around his neck as your face neared his. He wrapped you in his arms reflexively. At the last moment, Kirishima moved his head to glare at Shinsou, causing your hypnotized kiss to land just under his jaw.

Kirishima’s arms tightened around you, and you felt a deep rumble from his chest. His arms tightened to the point of pain on your bruised ribs and you swiftly broke from Shinsou’s control. With a squeak from you, Kirishima released you from your hold as you whipped around to Shinsou.

“That was a dirty trick!” You squealed, launching yourself onto his back.

“No tricks here, Kitten.” He laughed as you tried to drag him to the ground. “Plus, now we know that my theory is correct. Which means you have to be more careful in people’s heads.” His talk sobered you up a bit as you thought of the repercussions of this experiment. Before you could get too into your head thinking about it, the conflicting flavors of the emotions stewing around you pulled you to your friends.

“Well next time, maybe don’t make me sit all over you. I think someone got jealous.” You gave him a wicked smirk and pushed him into Kaminari. It was a sweet satisfaction as you saw both boys flush. Before he could retaliate, you grabbed onto Kirishima’s arm. “Now if you’ll excuse me, someone promised that we could do anything I wanted tonight. And takeout.” You quickly pulled Kirishima to the elevator and out of sight of the rest of the group.

[p4nkow]

Fight from the inside

Hey everybody! Here’s another Roger fic. I’m thinking on writing a second part to this but please tell me your opinion. Let me know if I should and especially what you think of it!

Summarise: Reader is having some fun with the boys when a ghost from Roger’s past comes back to haunt her. Not literally. 

Warnings: none, I think? It’s a bit angsty but also fluffy

This could be read both as real life Roger or as Ben!Roger.

Gifs not mine so credits to the owners.

“But I want to hear you sing!”

“Not a chance.” John shook his head at your request. You had been trying to persuade him for about half an hour now, but he seemed inflexible.

“You’re not the first one to try to change his mind, darling.” Fred glanced at you while he took a sip of his drink.

It was a quiet afternoon and the guys decided to take a break from the studio in order to go grab some drinks. An old Beatles’ song played in the background as you guys were chatting.

“C’mon, just in the chorus.” Roger supported your cause and Brian nodded in consequence.

“We need one extra voice.”

“You don’t.” John cut all of you off and you knew he wouldn’t change his mind. You took a morsel out of your piece of cake, glancing at Roger with the corner of your eye.

“What?”

“Nothing” He said with a smile, starting to caress your thigh. You smiled back at him and leaned your head to his shoulder. He surrounded yours with his arm in order to keep you close to him.

“Y/N could be your extra voice” John said, bringing back the subject.

“I could what?” You said in disbelief and Roger chuckled next to you.

“Obviously you never heard her sing.”

“I’m sorry?” You said with an amused tone, turning your face to him.

“I’m sorry love but you’re terrible.”

“No, she isn’t” Fred said, taking your side.

“I’ve never heard you singing.”

Roger glanced at Brian and coughed. “Lucky bastard.”

“Roger!” You slapped him on his chest but you giggled. You knew you were terrible at singing. You really, really were.

“But I wanna hear you sing. You could give us a hand with the chorus.”

You glanced back at Brian, shaking your head. “Bri, Roger’s right. I-”

���Roger?” A new, feminine voice cut you off so you turned around to see who it was.

“Jo?” Roger’s tone was full of disbelief and confusion as he let go of you and stood up to greet the newcomer.

Of course you knew who Jo was- Roger’s well known ex girlfriend. You stood in silence as the boys greeted her and for the first time ever you felt uncomfortable around them.

“Long time no see, darling!”

“Where have you been?”

“You look so different!”

“I missed you all so much.”

You alienated yourself from their conversation as you started to overthink- one of your worst flaws.

Roger’s voice brought you back to reality. “Love?”

“Hm?”

“This is Jo” He said with a smile, so you forced yourself to stand up and to shake her hand. She meant something to the boys so you had to be polite with her.

“It’s nice to meet you” You forced a smile as her watchful gaze judged you.

“So, are you a groupie?” She asked and you felt yourself blush.

How dared she?

You heard Brian cough and you could feel John and Fred’s gazes on you.

Fuck politeness.

You were about to say something when Roger spoke up. “Actually she’s my girlfriend.”

You were glad he interrupted you- you might have said something you’d have regretted. You were too mad to move your gaze away from Jo. Roger put a hand on your back, probably with the purpose to calm you but you couldn’t even look at him.

“Oh- oh! Your girlfriend! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

Fred stepped in to divert attention from you. “What are you doing here, darling?” You were glad he did so you sat back down and tried hard not to meet Roger’s eyes.

“Love” He murmured, placing again his hand on your thigh.

“Not now, Rog.” So he let it go.

You could feel Jo’s presence behind your back and you clenched your jaw in order to avoid to say something stupid. You have never been so ashamed in your life.

You met John’s gaze and he smiled at you. “You wanna leave?” He mouthed you and you were grateful he did, but still you refused his offer by shaking your head. You couldn’t leave Roger just like that. Not when Jo was around.

“I stopped by the studio and Paul told me I‘d found you here. I’m your new assistant!”

“You’re what?” Brian was as shook as you were.

“Yeah, I was the assistant of this band but it just split so EMI is trying to place me on a new one. In the meantime I’m your temporary assistant along with Paul!”

And you thought it couldn’t be worse.

“Great” You murmured, drawing Roger’s attention. He started to stroke your hair in order to reassure you but jealousy was eating you alive.

“That’s awesome!” You could tell Freddie was really ecstatic delighted by that news.

“Yeah, that’s really fantastic” Brian said while Jo took her seat right in front of you. You couldn’t help but notice the looks she gave Roger.

“What did I miss? Please, catch me up.”

“Not much, really” Roger said with a shrug. “We’re working on a few new songs.”

“I hope they’re as good as the old ones” she replied with a smile and you couldn’t help but give her an eye-roll.

“Oh yes darling, some of them have got potential.” Freddie said with a smile, proud of the work they’ve been doing.

It was at this point you decided to join the conversation. “It’s my favourite album so far.”

“Really? You were crazy about A Night at the Opera.” John has an amused look on his face.

Roger couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “He’s right, you did nothing but talk about ‘39 for months.”

“I guess Fight from the inside got me.”

Jo had been following your conversation in silence until now. “What’s Fight from the inside?” She asked, and Fred immediately answered “One of Roger’s songs for this new album.”

“Oh I absolutely have to listen to it!”

“Sure” Roger said with a little smile. You put all your attention to your piece of cake which you never finished eating. Your stomach was blocked because of the entire situation- which, to be honest, you weren’t really excited about.

“Anything else?” Jo asked, glancing at the boys one by one.

You hoped Fred didn’t tell her the real news but oh man, your hopes have been destroyed. “Our boy here is getting married!”

Jo’s lips formed an O after hearing that and for a little moment you were pleased for her reaction.

You were getting married. Roger had proposed the day of the final stage of the tour, the second night of the show in London. He caught you completely off guard and that’s probably why you cried you eyes out since the moment he kneeled in front of you.

“Is that true?” Jo asked and Roger glanced at you with the biggest smile. Just the thought of the two of you getting married made your hurt run faster than ever. You smiled back at him, nodding at her question. “Yeah, we are.”

“Hopefully as soon as possible” he added and you leaned to him, letting him surround your shoulders with his arm.

“That’s... fantastic” she said, but you could tell her smile was fake. John thought the same and glanced at you as soon as he noticed it. There was a moment when you thought she wasn’t that bad, if it weren’t for her comment about you being a groupie. That was until she said “I cannot imagine you being married. You’re too a free spirit to chain yourself to one woman.”

Roger was as blindsided as you. You tried to take deep breaths before speaking but in the meanwhile John did it for you. “Jo.”

“What? It’s true. We all know all the crazy adventures me and Roger had, there’s no point in hiding them.”

“It was the past, Jo.” God, you loved that man. You glanced at Roger and you could tell by his eyes that he wasn’t that happy of the whole situation. You tried to reassure him by placing your hand on his thigh, squeezing it a bit.

“It was, but what a past! We had our fun, didn’t we? Do you remember that time when we-”

“That’s enough” you snapped, catching everyone’s attention.

You got up as you couldn’t take it anymore. Roger stood up too. “Love-”

“I’ll see you at home.” And with that you took your coat and walked away from the table, as you heard Jo asking “What? Did I say something wrong?”

You walked away as fast as you could but you heard steps following you. You glanced behind your back just to see Roger following you.

“I thought you were stayin’ with the boys.” You said but you didn’t stop walking.

“I’d rather go home with you.”

“You’ll miss all the fun.”

“Don’t really care.”

You were mad but it wasn’t right to take it out on him. Despite the fact you knew that, you couldn’t help but act that way. You kept walking in silence, followed by Roger, until you made it home. As soon as you both entered the flat, you turned to him, trying to find the right words to apologise for your behaviour. You couldn’t do it- Roger’s lips crushed into yours as he placed his hands on your face.

You put your hands into his chest, kissing him back as he moved forward up to when your back was against the wall. He took your wrists into his hands, lifting them up and holding them with one hand only.

You kissed him back and you completely forgot what you were gonna say. He placed lots of kisses on your jawline and on your neck and in that moment you were at his mercy. You hated the power he had on you but when he kissed you like that there was no way you were gonna argue with him.

“Roger...”

“Shh, love” He murmured with his head buried in your neck.

“Roger.”

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful” He said, meeting your gaze as he kissed you again. “Don’t you ever doubt that.”

“I don’t like her.”

“I want you to forget about her for now.”

You placed both of your hands on his hips, slightly lifting his shirt to caress his bare skin. “Make me.”

And he did. Over and over that night. Now it was almost 1AM and both of you were enjoying the silence of the night, standing on the balcony. You were admiring London’s night lights and Roger was smoking a cigarette. You were wearing his shirt and you could smell his cologne on it.

However, despite all the love that he had showed you that night, you couldn’t help but to think of Jo.

“When did the two of you split up?” You murmured, silently praying he’d answer your questions. Roger knew how persistent you could be and how bad you could feel about this all situation so the only solution was answering your questions.

“About a year and a half ago.”

“Why?” You weren’t mad anymore, just curious.

“I didn’t love her anymore.” He frankly said, glancing at you with the corner of the eye.

What if it happened to you too? You were getting married, yes, but it could still happen.

“Stop” he said, interrupting your thoughts.

“Stop what?”

“Overthinking. That won’t happen to us.” He really knew you. He put away his cigarette and came closer to you, placing a hand on your hip and the other on your face. He gently caressed your cheek as his beautiful blue eyes met yours. “I love you so fuckin’ much for something like that to happen. And you shouldn’t worry about her.”

“I don’t” You lied.

“Yeah, you do. I don’t want her, Y/N.”

“She meant something to you.”

“Yeah, she did in the past. She’s my past, love, but you’re my present and my future. You’re the only woman in my life, the only one I need. You’re going to be my wife, for fuck’s sake. Don’t let a ghost from the past ruin what we have.”

“God, I love you so much” You murmured as you placed your lips on his. You believed him, you trusted him, and you knew he spoke the truth, but you couldn’t say the same of Jo. That’s why you were terrified of meeting her at the studio tomorrow, but no matter what was gonna happen- you wouldn’t let her ruin what you had with Roger. You were going to stand up for your relationship.

[fleurie3am15inspo]

Everyday Hero: Dad-Aizawa Fic

Hey there @the-lupine-sojourner​ !!! It’s me, Fleurie 😁 I bet you’re wondering, “huh, I wonder why she’s tagging me in this fic?” Well, I got news for you, buddy! I was your Secret Santa for this @dailybnha​ BNHA Secret Santa event! 😄 Surprise! What are the odds, ey? 😂 I hope I didn’t give it away in my anon asks cuz with me sounding all nervous all the time :p try as I might, I cannot shake it, lol. Well, anyway, this is all still a little new to me, writing bnha centered fics and whatnot. And as I mentioned before, it came out a little more on the slice of life side than fluff. Sorry, but I hope you like it anyway! Enjoy some Dadzawa and I hope you have a Merry Christmas!

The baby in his arms reached her tiny hands up, grasping at a few strands of his hair. It was different than before. No more did he feel that irk of annoyance when she did that. Instead, it felt warm. Innocent. And filled with love. Eraserhead blinked in surprise and tugged his head back. The movement caused him to wince and the child to laugh a colorful, sweet, twinkling laugh. Despite himself, Eraserhead felt a smile broaden over his own face and a soft laugh break through.

“Fukukado,” he warned, still laughing, “Turn it off.”

She quirked a brow, a smirk playing on her lips. “It’s not me, Eraser.”

“Don’t lie to me,” His hair rises (save for the strand in the infant’s hand) and his eyes glow red as he attempts to erase a quirk that was never even activated.

What? Curiously, he sneaks a glance at Yoshiko. Nothing.

“It’s not her either,” Emi says chuckling, “It’s you. It’s all you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“NO.”

“Oh come on, Shota! You haven’t even heard what it is yet.”

“I don’t need to. The fact that you’re asking me is enough.”

“Since when is me asking for a favor a bad thing?”

“Since you haven’t visited for years and only show up whenever you need something.”

“Okay, I know I haven’t had the chance to visit lately, but I know for a fact you haven’t made the effort either. The way I see it, it’s the classic kettle calling the pot.”

“I have a responsibility to my agency.”

“As do I to my city,” Sigh, “Look, it’s just for a few days. I need to attend the conference per company regulation. It’s just a series of meetings and trainings, but I can’t bring Yoshiko with me. I need someone to look after her while I’m gone.”

“Why don’t you get a babysitter for her?”

“I’m not trusting my baby to a stranger! Especially not now where there’s been undocumented kidnappings in the area. I don’t have time to do background checks on everyone. I know you. And I trust you. Please, you’re the only one I trust to look after my daughter.”

“...How long?”

“Just the weekend. The second the conference is over, I’ll be on the next flight home. I promise.”

“Alright. Bring her by the house later when you’ve got all her things. Stay safe up there.”

“I will. Oh, thank you Shota! You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Don’t mention it. Though, in exchange, you need to stop with these out of nowhere favors. Come by and visit sometime.”

“Of course! Yoshiko needs to get to know her godfather, afterall.”

“Her what?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been four years.... I miss you, Aneko.

Indeed, four years have passed since the disappearance of his cousin. What had only meant to be a three day weekend of watching his newfound goddaughter had taken a somber turn when news spread of a massive villain attack in the city where his cousin’s agency was undergoing their annual battle training. Normally, such an outright attack on a congregation of heroes would be wildly unsuccessful, if not laughable. But this instance was far from normal. In broad daylight, the entire building just vanished. Along with everyone inside it.

Investigations were still underway to locate the missing heroes. But in the four years of the aftermath, too little leads yielded little hope. Many families were grieving and others were moving on, adjusting to their new lives; Shota included. Suddenly, he found himself to be the only family baby Yoshiko had left. Her mother was missing and as far as he knew, Aneko had been on her own.

Once he came to terms with the fact that he was now her legal guardian, he had pulled out all the stops. Parenting books, crib shopping, taking a leave of absence from his agency, and enlisting the help of a few friends like Ms. Joke and Present Mic. Despite not having any children herself, Fukukado was great with children. She always seemed to know what to do to get a laugh out of the child without the use of her quirk. Mic knew some good lullabies to lull her to sleep.  

Even with all the help he had been receiving from those around him, he still found himself questioning his abilities. How was he supposed to raise a child? Aizawa never had any siblings growing up and was raised to be independent from the get go. Aizawa knew he couldn’t rely on their help forever, so he spent countless hours practicing on his own. In no time at all, he learned to change diapers, properly prepare bottles, braid hair, put outfits together, etc. and as Yoshiko got older, he was constantly finding himself picking toys off of the ground, trying to get her to eat her vegetables, preparing special meals for her, struggling to get her to sit still in the morning long enough to brush her hair. It was hard work. And he loved every minute of it.

Finally, in the blink of an eye, Yoshiko was old enough to start school. It should have been a relief to have her start school. It would mean that she was being kept under close supervision at all times for the better part of the day so that he could focus a little more on his work. As it was, being a single, working father was hard enough. Having somewhere she could be safe while he worked gave him a little bit of breathing room, but lately, he had been reminded that villains didn’t seem to care for heroes’ personal lives and would make their little heists at ungodly hours of the day. Or just any time he could have spent with his daughter.

With a sigh, the erasure hero pulled his goggles over his eyes and refocused on his current mission at hand. His agency had gotten word of suspicious activity on one end of town and had sent him to investigate. Silently, he crept towards the edge of the building overlooking an alleyway. It looked to be some sort of contraband deal. There were six figures in total; nothing too serious. Working quickly, he made sure to apprehend them and made short work of them in no time. The only injury he sustained was a cut along his upper arm from one of the thugs’ talons when he let him get too close. All things considered, that injury was the least of his problems.

“Shoot!” The injury could wait. He was nearly two hours late picking up Yoshiko from pre-school. Working quickly, he made sure to bind the thugs together away from the contraband and contacted the authorities. It took forever for them to arrive, it seemed. By the time the first cop car arrived, Eraserhead was already wrapping his scarf onto the building ledge.

“Wait!” The cop called, “Eraserhead, we need a statement!”

“That’ll have to wait,” He responded curtly, “I’m already late picking up my daughter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, a little girl with violet hair and yellow floral overalls is sitting in the doorway of a classroom, drawing in the dirt with her finger. Her backpack is lain against the wall. Two of her teachers are watching from inside the classroom and exchange worried glances. The younger of the two, Akiyama, approaches her and kneels down next to her.

"How are you doing, sweetie? Your dad still isn't here yet?"

"Nope."

"Do you want to come inside? It’s going to be dark soon.”

“No, thank you.” she replied, not looking up from her drawings, “Daddy will come.”

“I know sweetie, but we need to get you inside. We’ll call your dad again in a few minutes.” She holds out a hand towards Yoshiko. “Come on. You can have a snack if you want, too.”

Yoshiko finally looks up at her and stares at her hand blankly. She hums in hesitation before glancing out one more time at the empty parking lot. “I don’t…”

A loud screeching of tires sounds through the air and a taxi is seen skidding past the pickup area, grinding to a halt a few feet away from where the classroom door is. The poor teacher’s aide next to Yoshiko screams and falls back, but the little girl smiles with glee. Aizawa jumps out the driver’s side and a very frightened taxi driver scrambles out of the passenger side.

The driver clutches his stomach and raises a shaking finger at Aizawa, “Y-you! What are you crazy?! You could have killed us!”

The other teacher rushes out of the classroom and kneels down at the side of the petrified aide. She shoots Aizawa a very angry look. “Sir!” she screamed, “This is a school, for Heaven’s sake!”

He pays no attention to them, instead, focusing on the one shout that mattered.

“Daddy!”

He rushed around the car to the little Yoshiko who is bouncing up and down excitedly. She’s raising her arms and he scoops her up into a hug with an apologetic look on his face.

“Hey, hey…” he murmured, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect work to keep me out so late. I’ll be on time tomorrow, okay? I promise.”

“It’s okay Daddy,” she said snuggling her face into his shirt, “I knew you’re coming!”

The older teacher, Hayashi, is helping up Akiyama while holding a steady glare at the “Sir,” she reprimanded, “This cannot continue. We have told you countless times that we are not a daycare center. When 3 o’clock rolls around, you are expected to be here, on TIME, to pick up your child. I understand you’re a busy man, but given that you are already aware of these instances, I implore you to make arrangements at an actual after school child care facility-”

“I am not trusting my baby to a stranger,” Aizawa interrupted, holding Yoshiko tighter,  “The background check process took long enough with this school, I don’t have the time to interview other daycares.”

“Well, I’m sorry, sir, but something has to be done. Take it up with your employer; we can’t keep doing this.”

The tension hung in the air for a brief moment before Aizawa finally relented with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

Hayashi crossed her arms and said, “See to it that you do.” before leading Akiyama back to the classroom by the elbow.

“Looks like I have work to do,” Aizawa humphed. He pulled Yoshiko away from him and placed her on his shoulders. “You want to take the scenic route home?”

“Yes!” she cried, clapping her hands happily. Aizawa wrapped one end of his scarf around her like a makeshift seatbelt and readied the other in his free hand. Before taking off, he dug around in his pocket for a few bills. He promptly handed them to the taxi driver who, though no longer shaking, still remained a little green from the incident.

“Sorry about that. We’ll take the high road home from here. Let’s go!”

Yoshiko waved bye-bye to the taxi driver one last time. And with that, he swung off high above the building tops.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright, Yoshiko,” he said putting her down once they got home, “go put your backpack away. I’ll clean up a little and get dinner started.”

“Okay!”

While she bounded off to her room, Aizawa made his way to his own room to grab a fresh set of clothes and get changed. He winced a little at a small pain in his upper arm and remembered his wound. The cut wasn’t deep. Nothing a bandage shouldn’t be able to take care of. After wrapping it quickly, he headed back to the kitchen and set some noodles to boil on the stovetop. While that was cooking, he found Yoshiko sitting at the table with crayons and pages scattered all around her. Most were adorned with colorful doodles of cats and flowers. She had her head bent low over her current project and was scribbling feverently. Aizawa took a spot next to her, leaning over curiously.

“What are you drawing there?”

Donning a wide grin, she proudly holds up her drawing, “It’s you!”

Indeed it was. As close to resembling Aizawa as a four year-old’s crayon drawing could be, anyway. Yoshiko had drawn a tall box looking man with wild black sticks for hair and giant pink swirls for his eyes. Beside the figure was a smaller box girl with violet sticks of hair pointing downward that seemed to be both holding hands with the Aizawa figure and holding this giant pudgy looking cat in her other arm. (Said cat was now rubbing himself along the feet of her chair, meowing for attention.) And on the top of the page was scrawled the words “ME AN DADE” Warmth blossomed in his chest as he took it all in. Yoshiko leaned over with big gleaming eyes. “Do you like it, daddy? Did I do good?”

Aizawa chuckled and pulled her over, giving her a kiss on the forehead, “I do. It’s beautiful, thank you. And you know what? I know the perfect place for this.”

She jumped off of her chair and followed him back to the kitchen where she watched him proudly stick a magnet on the corner and stuck it to the fridge. “How does that look?” He asked her. Instantly, she squealed and bounced around in joy. “It looks perfect!!”

He picked her up and planted another kiss on her head before setting her back down again. “I’m going to finish up here. Go draw me another one, okay?”

“I’m gonna make a big one!” she cried, running back to her crayons and starting on a clean page with a renewed vigor.

As he stirred the soba, Aizawa got to thinking. How did he end up with such a beautiful little girl? A small pang hit his heart as he recalled the specific details as to how he came to be her guardian, but it was replaced with determination to raise his goddaughter as if she were his own. So far, it looked like he was succeeding. She was growing up so fast, and so patient for her age. She had to come first, always. It wasn’t fair that what happened today was commonplace for her. At this rate, it could spiral out of control and he could be missing out on larger parts of her life.

No. He wasn’t going to let that happen. Working at the agency and trying to be there for Yoshiko was becoming too much of a losing battle. He would just have to take a break from hero work for a while. Try something else, teaching maybe. A lightbulb went off in his head and he grabbed his cell, dialing a certain blonde pro-hero.

“Hizashi? Could you come over and watch over Yoshiko for a little while? There’s something I need to do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Principal Nedzu, thank you for meeting with me on such short notice”

“Not at all!” The small rodent hoisted himself up on a chair and settled down happily with his cup of tea. “I have often told you in the past that if you ever needed anything, all you had to do was ask. Surprisingly, not too many folks are too keen on the idea of coming to me when they need assistance. I ask for nothing in return; I’m so glad you are finally coming forward to speak with me. Just tell me what you need and we can work something out. Are you having issues in your current place of employment? Perhaps if we discussed it at great length-?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Aizawa interrupted hastily, “I am experiencing some difficulty with time management in my current agency. I called hoping to meet with you to discuss an employment opportunity you had offered to me in the summer.”

“Ah, yes!” Nedzu exclaimed, “I do recall contacting you. We are in need of a new homeroom teacher for the hero course. Have you reconsidered my offer? The position is still available if you are interested.”

Aizawa set his own cup down and leaned forward in his chair. “As a matter of fact, I have. I will be leaving my current agency soon in favor of a job with more manageable hours. Financially speaking, we are well off. But practically, I cannot raise my daughter if I am never home. And now that she has started school, I am having a difficult time finding a middle ground”

Nedzu nodded understandably, “Yes, I see. It is no easy task raising a child alone. But rest assured, here at U.A. we take care of our faculty members. Believe it or not, you are not the only teacher who has had difficulty with after school childcare. We have a daycare center in our main building. You are more than welcome to make use of it for your daughter. We can send someone over to retrieve her every day precisely at three o’clock and have her wait here until the school day has finished.”

Aizawa stiffens a little at the mention of someone else picking up Yoshiko from school. Nedzu catches the hesitation, “I see you are a little uneasy still? Not to worry, Eraserhead, we are all trained professionals here. Your daughter will be in safe hands. You have my word”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, Aizawa took special care in brushing and braiding Yoshiko’s hair. He sat with her on the bed while she busied herself with annoying the old black and white kitty by hugging him relentlessly. While he brushed, he pondered how to ask his next question.

“Yoshiko? I want you to tell me something.”

“Yes?”

“How does it make you feel when I am late picking you up from school? Or have to leave early sometimes and you have to stay with aunt Fukukado or uncle Hizashi until I get back?”

The question makes her pause and think. The cat uses this opportunity to flee but she makes no effort to grab him again. “Well...sometimes when you’re late, I feel sad. I have to wait longer to see you. And when you’re really late...I get scared…”

A surprised look comes across Shota’s face, “Scared?”

She nods in affirmation, “Uh-huh. I get scared...cuz what if you don’t come for me? I don’t want you to forget about me…then I would be alone...”

At that, he pulls her in for a hug, “No, no. I could never forget about you. I’m sorry that I’ve scared you so much that you even had to think that. Look at me,” He lifted her face to look her in the eye, “I promise-”

“Pinky promise?” she asked, holding up her little finger.

“Pinky promise,” he confirmed, hooking their pinkies together, “that no matter how long it takes me to get to you, or how far I go, that I will never, ever forget about you. It’s impossible. You’re my little girl. I’ll always make my way back to you, even if I have to fight a million monsters to get to you. I’ll fight a million and one, just to keep you safe.” He kissed her forehead and scootches her over to the pillow end of the bed, tucking her into her covers. “Now you rest easy tonight, okay? Daddy got a new job, so I’ll be there right on time waiting for you after school. How does that sound?”

Yoshiko smiled and yawned, turning into her covers, “Every day?”

“Almost every day. If I can’t, I’ll have your uncle come get you. You won’t be alone again. I’ll be here. I promise.”

The smile on her face grew wider and more content as she begins drifting off into sleep.

“Thank you.”

He ruffles her hair in response, “You’re welcome.” He picks up her teddy bear from the floor and places it next to her as he gets up to leave. He stood at the doorway, flicking off the light when she spoke in a soft whisper.

“Daddy?”

He turned his head back to his little girl, already cuddling with her bear and falling half-asleep, “Yes?”

“You’re a hero.”

Aizawa snorted a little chuckle, “I know. That’s my job.”

“No,” she opened her eyes a little, “You’re my hero.”

A sudden burst of warmth exploded in his chest. To hold that mantle in your daughter’s heart...it almost made him want to cry. Almost. One thing he knew for sure: he would never let anyone hurt his child. He would protect her with his final breath, fight off any monster she feared, and make sure that she would be loved and safe for the rest of her life.

Sometimes he would think back to his life without her and think of how it was so different since she came along. His life was a better place. And it was all thanks to her.

“I love you daddy.”

“I love you, too.”

FIN

[olivenight17]

Hi! How are you doing? I'd like to request a MHA matchup if that's alright (a relationship partner and an unofficial parental figure, or just the significant other if you want!). I'm 167 cm ), the same age range as the students, and a female. I've got ADHD, anxiety, severe depression, and bpd. I kinda bottle my issues/ negative emotions and keep up a mask of bubbly joy (the stuff just nags at the back of my brain). I'm in choir, I cosplay, write, draw, and I'm overall artistic. (1/?)

My zodiac sign is Ares. I like to describe my style as “I would be super punk rock/goth/emo but my mom won’t buy me the super awesome clothes so I’ll made do with what I have.”. I love punk music and rock music. On my bad days it’s really hard for me to get out of bed, I’ll often go nonverbal, I get insomnia, and just kinda stare off into space (it can take days for me to climb out of these holes). I have issues with my family and due to that I crave affection from others. (2/?)

I love stuffed animals and have like 23, have a habit of building ‘nests’, and I’m a bit of a goblin when it comes to shiny things and bones (I collect them!). Anyways, thank you so much and have a great day! (3/3)

Let me tell you hon, we’re almost cut from the same cloth, I relate so hard to you. I really hope you get to take on that full punk rock look eventually, I’ll be cheering for you!

Alright, parentally wise, I basically effective immediately knew who would be best for you and I give you, our lovely Emi Fukukado!

- This lady, let me tell you, is about to be all over you parentally.

- Her whole job basically consists of making people laugh, so she can tell when someone’s smiling face is real or fake.

- She sees right through that happy mask and immediately her heart says “No, this won’t do. The child needs to be happy.”

- From that point onwards, it has become her mission to have you smile a real smile at least once a day.

- She may seem ditzy and not good for parenting, but she is a teacher after all, she knows how to take care of kids.

- Becomes your #1 supporter, doing extensive research on all of your mental illnesses. She would never want to do anything to unintentionally harm you in any way and knowing is always half the battle.

- Is very just, kind towards you, understanding that this is hard to get through but she’s very patient and will never raise her voice at you.

- Wants to limit how much you’re bottling your emotions, so she tries to get you to talk about your day every time you come home from school. She makes it clear that you’re allowed to come to her for anything. She wants to know how you’re feeling because it best helps her.

- The nonverbal side is a little daunting for her at first. Only because she can’t help if she doesn’t know what’s happening. If it’s just a no verbal speech, she might ask you to shake or nod your head to her questions. But if it’s like no communication period, she’ll let you stay in bed, make sure you have your stuffed animals with you and just stay with you until you’re ready to talk. And, if you’re comfortable with it, she’ll hug you too.

- The good thing about Emi is that she’ll give you affection all of the time.

- She supports all of your hobbies, helping you to find the right wig or costume, good art supplies, listens to your singing. And have no fear, if you weren’t able to go full on punk before, you will now. Just because Emi doesn’t wear that herself, doesn’t mean she will not spoil you rotten and practically fill your wardrobe with leather jackets and dark clothing.

- Not to mention, she just loves your stuffed animals, and it only serves to love you as her daughter more.

- It takes her a while to adjust to the whole nesting thing and especially when some shiny things in the house go missing, but now she knows where to look if she needs said shiny things. And if she sees any shiny things while out on the job, she brings them home for you.

- Overall, she’s 10/10 supportive mom who will love you no matter what, support you, and always up to make you laugh and smile.

Now for your romantic partner, have none other than sunshine boi Mirio!

- The human representation of the sun is here to love you at all times and make sure you know it!

- 10/10 thinks you’re the most adorable person he’s ever laid eyes on.

- So, like any good extrovert, he roped you into friendship!

- Really loves to hang out with you and, like Emi, loves your stuffed animals. He thinks it’s super cute.

- In fact, the first date he took you on was at a carnival and it was purely just to get you more stuffed animals.

- Always brings you small little punk presents, whether it’s a cd from your favorite band, or an extra choker for you, he is all on board with that style and thinks it looks really good on you!

- Though, he won’t be too pushy with you. He is friends with Tamaki after all so at least with anxiety and self doubt, he’s all good on how to handle.

- With some of the other things, such as the bpd, ADHD and depression, he might need some help with. So, he’ll ask you about it, trying to get what works for you and what doesn’t, any signs he needs to look out for.

- Always has you eating lunch with him to make sure you eat, if you get hungry because you missed breakfast, he’s got a few snacks on hand for you. On top of that, he sends little reminders to eat dinner when you’re both at home.

- Rest assured, Mirio is on the lookout and making sure you’re taking care of yourself and he’s gonna try his hardest not to let you fall too hard.

- If at any time you go nonverbal with him, he understands. He’ll still be talking to you, but he’ll make it clear that you don’t have to answer him. Lol believe me, he’s got enough socialization to talk for the both of you.

- Super hyped for all of your hobbies. He wants to read all of your writings, he’ll go see all of the performances your choir makes, see your drawings, and he’ll love all of your cosplays. In fact, if you take that cosplay to a con, he might even dress up to cosplay with you.

- Need affection you say? Oh honey, it’s practically done and done. He has so much affection and love for you, just say the word and he will unleash it all upon you in words of affirmation and a lot of hugs and kisses.

- Overall, your relationship is filled with a lot of encouragement, love and support, you two look out for each other.

I hope you enjoyed!

[hearts-hunger]

When I’m Not With You || Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: At a party with emotions running high and Roger’s next tour dates closer than either of you would like, you learn the hard way that it doesn’t take much for little misunderstandings to turn into something worse.

Pairings: Roger Taylor x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: accusations of cheating, smoking, language

A/N: This fic is for @fredthelegend‘s writing challenge! Did I wait until the very last possible day to write it and get it posted? You bet! It’s who I am as a person, what can I say? As per the rules of the writing challenge, I drew inspiration for this fic from “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy”. It’s plenty angsty but it ends up fluffy, so it’s not all misunderstandings and screaming matches. Let me know what you think, and I hope you like it! ♡

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You looked over at Roger as he put his hand on the small of your back, the combination of his voice and his touch something you’d come to associate with comfort. He always made sure to do both when you were in big social situations like this, making sure he didn’t scare you and taking the time to ground you and let you know it was him. The ease and gentleness with which he’d handled your anxiety from the very beginning of your relationship never failed to endear him to you; as always, you found yourself incredibly thankful for a boyfriend that loved you as well as he did.

You smiled as you met his lovely blue eyes. “Hey yourself, cutie.” You knew he loved it when you called him that; he always said it was very American of you.

“Just checking in,” he said with a smile. “You alright?”

You nodded, gesturing with the drink in your hand. “One more margarita and I might drag you onto the dance floor,” you teased, “but yeah, I’m great.”

He grinned. “I might take you up on that.”

“You’ve got Freddie set up already?” you asked. Freddie had been flirting with - or, rather, casting longing glances towards - a burly brunette all night, and Roger had taken pity on him eventually and offered his services as Freddie’s wingman.

“You doubt my ability to him the date of his dreams?” Roger teased. “I’m the expert on flirting, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, you don’t have to remind me,” you said, giving him a quick kiss. “I know better than anybody that Roger Meddows Taylor is the world’s biggest flirt, don’t I?”

He grinned. “Only with you, love. Only with you.”

You shook your head, affectionately exasperated. “You’re a mess.”

“Yeah, but I’m your mess,” he said, cheeky. “Lucky girl that you are. I’m going to have quick smoke, but when I get back, you and I have a date with the dance floor.”

You laughed. “Okay. Do you want another drink?”

“Sure,” he said. He gestured with his wine glass. “Just another Chardonnay, if you don’t mind.”

“You got it,” you said. “Don’t be too long.”

He laughed and gave you a kiss as he turned to go. “No, wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled to yourself as you watched him weave through the crowd of people towards the back door, stopping briefly to greet friends who congratulated him on Queen’s latest success. The party had been thrown by EMI Records to celebrate A Day at the Races hitting number one in England and Japan. The boys were just back from the American leg of the tour, and you and Roger had been practically inseparable from the moment you’d thrown yourself in his arms at the airport.

Even though he’d only gone for a smoke and he’d be back in no time, the months of being apart made every little moment of absence that much keener to you now, especially considering the precious little time you had before he left again. They had a few weeks before they had to head off for the last leg of the tour across Europe, which was slated to last at least a month. You didn’t want to waste a second of the time you had before Roger left again. So far you hadn’t - god, the two of you hadn’t gone so many rounds in one night since you’d first started dating - and you weren’t of a mind to start now. You headed to the bar to get Roger’s Chardonnay, deciding you’d take it outside and keep your boyfriend company while he smoked.

Finally making it through the sea of people carousing on EMI’s dime, most of whom he didn’t even know even though they probably had some connection to the tour or the album, Roger pushed through the back door and took a breath of the cool night air. The sound of Freddie’s crooning on “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” dulled as the door closed behind him and he found himself mildly relieved; though he was proud of the album and its songs, he couldn’t deny he was a bit tired of them after playing them nearly every night for the past three months. But it was a party to celebrate the album, after all - he supposed the DJ could be forgiven for playing it on loop all night. He’d ask them to play something else when he took you out on the dance floor, though, maybe one of the Beatles songs you’d listened to all the time when you first started dating.

He fished a slightly crumpled pack of Marlboro Reds out of the inside pocket of his blazer and took a swig of his wine before pulling out a cigarette, drawing a long inhale when it was lit. He quietly sang along with the bridge almost out of habit. “When I’m not with you, I think of you always.” He kicked at the gravel under his shoes as he blew out a stream of smoke, thinking he probably wouldn’t finish the whole cigarette before he headed back in to be with you.

“Bloody hell, sweetheart.”

Roger snapped his head up at the sound of Brian’s voice, fairly sure the guttural outburst hadn’t been directed at him but confused nonetheless. He hadn’t realized Brian was out here; looking into the darkness where his voice had come from, Roger tried to make out the guitarist’s form.

“Bri?” he called.

He heard a few harshly whispered curses from the shadows in response and couldn’t help but smirk, knowing exactly what was going on past the glow cast by the light above the door. A few seconds later Brian stepped out from the shadows, obviously disheveled; a girl with a rumpled dress and smudged lipstick followed right behind him.

“Interrupting something, am I?” Roger teased.

“No,” Brian said quickly, flustered at being caught red-handed. “No, we were just going back inside.”

The girl came up to Roger, eyeing him with interest. She smelled of lavender and vodka. “You’re the drummer, aren’t you? Robert?”

“Close,” Roger told her. “And you are?”

She gave him a smile. “Alice,” she slurred. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

She bit her lip as she looked Roger over. “You want some company, Robert?”

“Oh, ah, I’m good,” Roger said, struggling to keep from laughing as Brian rolled his eyes. “I’ve already got some company I wouldn’t trade for the world. Thanks for the offer, though. I’m sure you’re, um, really something.”

Alice smirked. “Your friend certainly thought so.” She looked up at Brian. “Isn’t that right?”

Brian looked absolutely mortified. “Yeah, well, we should go in before we’re missed,” he said. He gave Roger a withering look. “See you inside, Robert?”

Roger grinned. “Yeah, I’m just finishing up my cigarette.”

“Come on,” Brian said to Alice, though he didn’t wait for her as he went back inside. She made to follow him, but between the gravel and her high heels and the copious amount of alcohol she’d obviously had, she lost her balance and crashed right into Roger. Staggering back a step, he awkwardly caught her against him, wine sloshing over the rim of his glass and onto the sleeve of his blazer and the back of her dress.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Uh, sorry,” she said, seemingly unsurprised at her own lack of coordination. He released her as she got her balance; she pulled back from him without a shred of embarrassment at having careened into him.

“Sorry about your dress,” he said, holding the now empty glass. “Gonna find Bri ok?”

“Oh, probably not,” she said, unconcerned. “He only wanted a quickie, which is fine by me. Sorry for falling on you.”

He chuckled. “No problem.”

He kept an eye on her as she went back inside, making sure she didn’t trip again. He shook his head, smiling to himself. Brian sure knew how to pick them.

He took a few more drags from his cigarette before letting it drop to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot. Juggling the glass, he pulled off his blazer, thankful he’d decided not to wear his favorite rainbow one tonight now that the sleeve of this one was soaked with wine. He draped his blazer over his arm as he headed inside, already grinning at the thought of taking you dancing.

“Chardonnay, please,” you said to the bartender. “And a margarita with extra lime.”

You absently drummed your fingers on the bar, a habit you’d picked up from Roger, and looked out onto the party as you waited for your drinks. Freddie was talking with the brunette from earlier and from the looks of them, all smiles and “accidental” touches, it seemed Roger had done a good job as Freddie’s wingman. You smiled. Roger would do anything for his friend, and even if he didn’t know the first thing about chatting up guys on other people’s behalf, flirting was more or less a universal language on some level and Roger was certainly an expert on it.

Your gaze traveled to Deaky, who was clearly enjoying himself on the dance floor. You didn’t know what to make of Deaky’s dance moves sometimes, but he was nothing if not enthusiastic. You grinned and watched as he tried to figure out what to do with his hands usually occupied with his bass and settled on a sort of one-handed clapping motion.

“Here you go, love,” the bartender said behind you. You turned and took the drinks he put on the bar for you, smiling your thanks as you carefully made you way towards the back door. You were nearly there when you saw the door open; a girl with smudged makeup and messy hair came in, teetering slightly as she pulled the strap of her dress back over her shoulder. You didn’t think anything of it, really; it was almost a given at any party you’d been to with the boys that disheveled groupies were to be found around every corner, usually with someone in tow behind them. The girl stumbled off and she probably would have never crossed your mind again had it not been for the next person that came through the door.

The first thing you noticed was his grin, that beautiful smile you loved more than anything in the world. He wasn’t looking at you; you were still somewhat hidden by the people between you and Roger. What was he beaming at like that?

The next thing you registered was that he’d taken his blazer off. The champagne-colored jacket with multicolored birds stitched into it was draped over his arm, his empty glass held casually in his hand. Ever keen on fashion, Roger wouldn’t have taken his blazer off without good reason.

Oh, you thought as you saw the collar of his shirt. It surprised you how easily you resigned yourself to it, how quickly you went from confusion to rage to despair to resignation. In the space of a second, you’d seen the streak of red lipstick on the starched collar of his white button-down and felt absolutely nothing.

“Well hello, lovely.”

You startled a little, realized Roger was talking to you. He’d spotted you and come over, the smile on his face showing no hint of shame or remorse. You didn’t know what you’d expected. His expression was eager and affectionate as he looked you over, his baby blue eyes shining as they met yours.

“I was just coming back in to find you,” he said, setting his empty glass on the table nearby. “Thanks for getting my drink.”

He took it from you and took a sip, his head tilted back; you found yourself looking for love marks on his neck despite the numbness that had swept through your whole body.

“I believed you said something about another margarita and a dance, hm?” he said.

The thought of dancing with him, in front of everybody - in front of that girl, whoever she was - made you feel sick.

“No, I - ” You swallowed thickly. Your grip on your glass was so tight your knuckles were white. “I changed my mind.”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “I promise it’ll be fun. We can’t be worse than Deaky, anyway.”

He took your hand and tried to pull you closer to him; you reacted to his touch as if he’d burned you.

“No,” you said, louder this time. You cradled your hand close to your chest. “I don’t want to, Roger.”

His easy smile disappeared at your outburst; he searched your face with a sickening worry in his own.

“Hey, hey,” he said gently. “What’s wrong?”

You felt a hysterical laugh rise in your throat. “Nothing.” As much as you wanted to, you weren’t going to make a scene. Not here, not in front of your friends, not in front of the girl your boyfriend had snuck out to be with, the girl whose lipstick marked his shirt like a scarlet letter.

“It’s not nothing,” you heard him say. You met his eyes and saw the concern there, the kindness in his expression that you hadn’t ever had reason to question until now. A horrible thought struck you - was this the first time he’d masked guilt with affection, or had it happened before? How many times had he left you to be with someone else and fooled you with his pretty smiles and pretty words? How many times had he not had to, since he was halfway across the world and he could wash out the smell of perfume and the color of lipstick before you ever saw?

You suddenly felt lightheaded, swaying slightly on your feet. He reached out to steady you and you tried to back away from him.

“Don’t,” you said. It came out weaker than you wanted.

“Easy, love,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard you. He set his glass down and pried yours from your hands to set it down too, gently gripping your arm to steady you.

“How much did you have to drink?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

You felt a flash of anger. “Does it matter?” Of course he’d like to think you felt this way because you were drunk. Was he really arrogant enough to think you hadn’t noticed, that your fight-or-flight reaction to him since he’d walked through the door was just because you’d had one too many drinks?

“No, I suppose not,” he said. “But maybe we should go home if you’re not feeling well.”

“I feel fine,” you snapped. The last thing you wanted was to go home with him. You sucked in a breath and your head spun. You could smell her on him, the scent of lavender that neither you nor Roger wore plain as day on his shirt and in his long blonde hair. You felt yourself react to the smell of her perfume and the acidic despair that welled in your already rocky stomach.

“Rog,” you said weakly. Your voice sounded strange, calmer than you felt.

“Yeah?”

You put your hand over your mouth. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Unhindered by the same numbness you were, Roger quickly opened the back door and steered you outside. He held your hair back as you retched.

“Okay, love, that’s it,” he said soothingly. “I’ve got you.”

When nothing more would come, you straightened and reached a hand to wipe your mouth. You noticed your hand was shaking.

“Let me go get you some water,” Roger said. “I’ll be right back.”

You stared blankly out at the darkness as he went inside, the air cool against your face as tears finally fell. You wanted nothing more than to let him take care of you, to let him hold you and tell you everything was going to be ok. You wanted to forget what you knew, what had broken the way you looked at him and maybe could never be repaired. You loved him; you loved him so much you could hardly stand it. Maybe he loved you, but not that way. Not enough.

He came back with some water and you washed your mouth out with it, avoiding his worried gaze. You hated that you couldn’t stop crying; though it wasn’t the heaving sobs you thought might come, not yet anyway, it was still a relentless stream of tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how you tried.

“Please tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart,” he said gently.

A part of you wanted to. A part of you wanted to tell him you’d seen what he had been too arrogant to hide, that you knew how easily you’d been discarded. How pathetic you must seem to him, a broken girl so easily fooled by his charm. You ran the heel of your palm over your cheek.

“It’s nothing,” you said. Your voice was soft with grief and shame. “I just - I just don’t feel good.”

“I know,” he said, sympathy in his voice. “Let’s get you home, ok?”

A sharp bitterness shot through you. “You sure there’s nobody you’d rather stay and talk with?”

He shook his head, seemingly unhurt by your tone. “Nobody as important as you, love.”

What a joke, you thought. Was that all you were to him? A joke, something to amuse him, something to make fun of without you realizing?

“Come on,” he said. You followed him back inside, not really having a choice - where else were you going to go? You could have told Roger you wanted to stay with one of the boys tonight, but you didn’t want to drag them into this. Besides, Roger would ask you why you didn’t want to come home with him, and then you’d have to tell him you knew. No other answer would convince him. But you didn’t want to be the one to break the ice about it. You wanted him to have the decency to tell you, to beg for your forgiveness; you wanted him to man up and take responsibility for what he’d done to you. For you to bring it up would only make it easier for him.

Thankfully no one stopped you on your way out. You didn’t know if you could manage pleasantries or ribbing from the boys that you and Roger were sneaking off early so you could have time alone. The thought of being anywhere close to Roger was painful to you; you’d rather die than sleep with him now, let him touch you with those hands that had felt another woman’s body and made her feel the things he made you feel.

When you got in the car, you moved as far away from him as you could manage, curling up against the passenger door as he started the drive home. It only briefly occurred to you to wonder whether Roger was sober enough to drive; your implicit desire to trust him with your well-being had been proved foolish, but you hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to get the two of you killed. You pressed your cheek against he cool glass of the window, shutting your eyes as the lights and shapes passing by threatened to make your head swim.

Roger didn’t say anything the whole ride home, but you didn’t know what you’d expected. You wished he would just say it, just admit what he’d done. That would be better than this tension, this thickness in the air that choked you.

You got out of the car before Roger had really even parked, eager to put some distance between you. You fished your keys out of your purse and tired to unlock the door, but between the alcohol clouding your head and the tears that refused to stop, you couldn’t get the damn key in. You bit back a sob as Roger’s hand came over yours and took the keys from you, unlocking the door and pushing it open for you.

Leaving your keys with him, you brushed past him and headed straight for your bedroom. Your chest tightened at the thought of sleeping in the same bed with him tonight, but you pushed that off to deal with later. Right now you wanted to get a shower and wash the night off of you, wash off his touch and the pain and the grief and the stubborn tears.

Despite everything, you were a little surprised that Roger didn’t ask to come in the shower with you. That was Roger’s favorite thing; even more than he liked making love to you in the shower did he like just being with you, washing your hair, feeling your skin against his.

He’s probably had his fill for tonight, you thought, nearly tasting your own bitterness. You made the water as hot as you could stand and closed your eyes as you stood under it, shoulders shaking as you kept your sobs as quiet as you could.

When the water grew cold and your tears had finally run dry, you got out of the shower and hesitated before opening the bathroom door. You didn’t know if Roger was in your bedroom, and you didn’t want to see him. You couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever, though. You took a steadying breath and opened the door.

He wasn’t there, but you saw he’d laid out some comfy clothes for you on the bed, the exact ones you would have picked out for yourself. Just past your bedroom door you could hear Roger in the kitchen, humming “Here Comes the Sun” to himself. You felt a wave of sadness like a physical pain in your chest.

Too tired to find any other clothes, you put on the ones he’d put out and sat on the edge of the bed. You didn’t know what to do. You watched the shiny droplets of water fall from your hair to darken the fabric of your sweatpants. You noticed your hands were shaking but couldn’t make yourself care.

A few minutes later, you guessed - it could have been hours for all you knew - you heard the door open. You felt a surge of adrenaline as your fight-or-flight kicked in, but you were too numb to actually move.

“Hey, love,” Roger said, his voice gentle. “Feeling any better?”

You didn’t answer. You watched as he set a mug of tea on your bedside table.

“I made the peppermint kind,” he told you. “Thought it might settle your stomach a bit.”

He didn’t press you for a reply and you didn’t give one; he went to the dresser to get himself a change of clothes and you noticed he was still wearing his clothes from the party. The smudge of lipstick on the collar seemed to mock you, the scent of lavender you swore you could still make out bringing your headache back with a vengeance. He hadn’t even bothered to wash it off, to crumple up the shirt and put it in the laundry to get rid of the evidence on the off-chance you hadn’t noticed. It was like he was mocking you too.

“How many, Roger?” you asked.

He turned at your voice. “What’s that, love?”

You looked up at him, a determined set to your jaw. You wanted the truth, and you were done waiting for him to tell you.

“How many others were there?”

A confused frown tugged at his features. “What do you mean?” he asked. “How many others of what?”

Was he really going to play dumb? You felt anger spark into a fire in your chest.

“How many other girls, Roger?” you asked, your voice rising. “How many other girls were there before the one you had tonight?”

He looked genuinely confused, and you felt a burning self-hatred that you’d been fooled by him for so long. He was a terrific actor, you had to give him that, but no more. The game was up and no amount of playacting was going to fool you ever again.

“I don’t know what you mean, love,” he said, his voice disgustingly desperate. “What are you talking about? What girls?”

“Stop pretending, Roger!” you spat. “You don’t have to keep up the ruse any more. I just want to know how many girls you fucked when you thought I wouldn’t find out.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

You stood, feeling tears come again; this time, they were borne of rage instead of sadness.

“Please don’t make this any worse than it already is,” you said. “Just admit it. Be a man and own up to it, that’s all I ask. You owe me that much.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” he insisted.

You could have screamed. “I saw you, Roger!” you said. “I saw her putting her dress back on and I saw you come inside with that grin on your face like - ”

Like she’d been better than I have ever been. You couldn’t make yourself say it.

You met his eyes, wanting desperately to see anger or guilt or shame, something that would tell you he had finally dropped the act and felt the weight of his own guilt. When you saw only hurt, you couldn’t help the cry of frustration that escaped you.

“I don’t know what you thought you saw,” he said, his voice showing his distress. “But nothing like that happened, I promise. When I came in, I was - ”

Your breath came in a sob. “Please,” you said, cutting him off before he could give you some fabricated excuse. “Please, Roger, just stop.”

His hands went up in a gesture of helpless exasperation. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what to tell you. I swear to you that nothing happened.”

You pressed your hand to your mouth, anger and debilitating sorrow taking your breath away. Your sobs came as groans of pain as you tried and failed to keep them at bay.

“Did you ever love me, Roger?” you managed to say.

“What kind of question is that?” His voice was angry now. “I’ve always loved you, and I love you now despite whatever the hell this is you’re going on about.”

You sucked in a hitching breath. Of all the things you had imagined would come from this, his willingness to inflict such pain on you was something you had never considered. Why wouldn’t he just admit it?

“You can’t,” you sobbed. “You can’t love me. If you did you wouldn’t do this to me. You wouldn't lie right to my face when I told you I saw her, I saw what you’d done to her when you thought I wouldn’t know. You wouldn’t stand there with her fucking lipstick on your collar and tell me nothing happened.”

He looked at his shirt, pulling the collar out to see it better. You saw his face pale and realized that he hadn’t even known it was there.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice panicked and desperate. “This isn’t what you think.”

“What are we, in a fucking movie?” you said. “At least think of something more original.”

“No, sweetheart, I promise,” he said, his expression pained. “I'm so sorry. I didn't notice she'd got lipstick on me and if I'd seen it earlier I would have told you. It wasn't like that at all.”

“What was it like, then?” you spat.

“I went outside for a smoke, just like I told you,” he said, practically tripping over his words in his haste to get them out. “Brian was out there with this girl, and when she walked by me she tripped and I caught her. Her lipstick must have gotten on my shirt when I caught her.”

“Oh, right,” you said waspishly. “She fell and you caught her.”

“She did,” he said, distressed that you didn't believe him. “And if you’d asked me when I came in, I would have told you the same thing. I’m sorry I didn’t notice the lipstick before; I wish I had, and I wish I could have told you what happened before you got so upset.”

He ran a hand over his face. “Oh, God, this is all my fault, isn't it?” he said. “I'm so sorry, love. If I'd have known you thought - all you saw was her and then me coming in right after with her lipstick on me and my clothes half-off - God, and you've been thinking this whole time that I'd been with her. I had no idea. You were so upset and I couldn't even see it. I just thought you didn't feel well. I'm so sorry. But why didn’t you say anything at the party?”

You twisted your fingers together like you did when you were nervous; none of this was going the way you’d thought.

“I didn’t want to make a scene,” you told him, your mind racing to account for what he’d told you and how he was reacting to you. “I didn’t - I wanted you to tell me instead of me having to ask.”

For the first time you saw a flicker of hurt in his expression, a shadow of pain in him that didn’t come from realizing he’d hurt you. You’d hurt him in this too, and he couldn’t hide it.

“You wanted me to tell you I’d cheated on you?”

His quiet voice was like a dagger in your heart. “What am I supposed to think, Roger?” you said, lashing out in defense of yourself. “I’m not crazy for thinking that.”

He shook his head; you were surprised to see tears in his eyes.

“When have I ever given you reason to think that I’d cheat on you?” he said. “I mean, I’ll admit it doesn’t look great, and you don’t know how sorry I am - but do you really think I’m capable of that? Was it really that easy for you to take one look at me and assume I’d gone off and been with some other girl?”

“Easy?” you repeated. “No, Roger, it wasn’t easy. None of this has been easy.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said.

You bit your lip. Your vision was so blurred with tears that you couldn’t even see his face.

“Why didn’t Brian come in with her?” you asked. “If he was out there with you, why didn’t he come in?”

“He went in before her,” Roger said. “Maybe you didn’t see him come in. But he went in before her, and when she tried to follow, she fell.”

“Why did you take your jacket off?”

“I spilled my drink when I caught her. It got all over the sleeve of my blazer. Here,” he said, retrieving the jacket from where he’d thrown it in the laundry basket. “Feel it.”

Hesitantly, you reached out to feel the proffered fabric; it was damp and smelled like Chardonnay.

“I promise you, sweetheart,” he said, the seriousness of his tone only made weightier by the love that also colored it. “That’s all that happened. That’s all. I didn’t kiss her. I didn’t do anything with her. She tried to come on to me and I told her I didn’t want anything to do with her.”

He tossed the jacket on the bed and closed the distance between you, taking your face in his hands. He brushed your tears away with his thumb, looking at you with love and an unmistakable hurt.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you more than anything. I would never do anything to hurt you. I would never do anything to jeopardize what I have with you. I know how lucky I am to be with you, and I’d be an absolute fool to throw that away.”

You didn’t know what to say. You had been so consumed by anger, by despair, by the certainty that he had done the one thing you couldn’t forgive that you didn’t know what to feel now. Everything in you ached to trust him, to trust what he told you was true.

“I’ve never lied to you, sweetheart,” he said. He let his hands drop. “I’ve never kept things from you. If you don’t believe me, we can ring Brian right now and he can tell you what happened, but you can trust me. I’m not lying to you about this. I would never cheat on you, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I made you feel like I would.”

You studied his face, his features so dear to you, the expressions that showed his emotions like an open book. He was right; he’d never lied to you. Despite everything, despite the evidence that you had collected like weapons to use against him, he hadn’t gotten defensive towards you. He’d explained what happened and apologized over and over for unknowingly causing you pain.

You felt a crushing weight in your chest. If what he said was true and you'd misread the whole situation... You’d accused him of something horrible. You'd thought him capable of cheating on you. Roger, the sweetest man alive, the love of your life - you’d really thought he could do something like that to you. Though he had never hurt you before, though he had been nothing but good and kind and loving to you from the moment you met, you had been able to think that of him.

You suddenly felt sick, but for a reason different than you had before.

“Roger,” you said quietly.

He looked up at you. “Yes, love?”

Your face burned with shame as you realized how much you’d hurt him and how much he still loved you despite it. You breath hitched.

“Why aren't you mad at me?”

He softened and you couldn’t bear to see it, you couldn’t bear to see the love you didn’t deserve so plainly on his face. Your expression crumpled and you hid your face behind your hands, shoulder shaking with renewed sobs.

“Oh, love.” You heard the sadness in Roger’s voice as he pulled you close, holding you against his chest as you cried. He rubbed a soothing hand up and down your back. “It’s ok.”

“It’s not ok,” you sobbed. “I said those awful things and I - I thought you cheated on me and I didn’t trust you and I - ”

“Shh, hey,” he soothed. “Sweetheart. Take a deep breath.”

You tried to do as he said, your inhale hitched with sobs. You pulled back and tried to wipe the tears from your face.

“You should be yelling at screaming at me,” you said miserably.

“What for?” he asked gently. “I’m not angry with you, love. I’m sorry for what happened, and I’m sorry I’ve done a poor enough job loving you to make you think I could cheat on you, but I’m not angry with you. This whole thing is my fault, not yours.”

“That’s not true,” you said. “You didn’t do anything wrong and I just assumed that - ”

“You just assumed what anyone would have in your position,” he said. “Unfortunately everything aligned to make this a disaster, and I can’t fault you for thinking what you did. I only wish I’d have known sooner and could’ve avoided hurting you like I did.”

“But Roger,” you said, your voice pleading, desperate for him to know how sorry you were. “I hurt you so much worse, I didn’t trust you, I blew everything way out of proportion and I ruined your party and I said terrible things to you and I - ”

You sucked in a breath, feeling like you heart was in a million pieces. “I’m sorry, Roger,” you said, your voice soft with pain. “I’m so sorry.”

He hesitated only a second before gathering you in his arms again, any anger he’d felt at your words dissolved at the sincerity of your pain at having hurt him. Your accusations had been hurtful but not irrational; he was more sorry than he could say for the way one misstep after another had eventually come to this. The months of being apart, the whirlwind of emotions that this week had been, the clawing grief you both felt at the inevitability of being apart again - added to the seemingly little misunderstandings, it had grown into something much bigger and much more painful than it might have otherwise. He wasn’t angry at you for thinking what you had. Tours always made things strained between you, and he knew something like this was bound to happen eventually. You had been frightened that your separation had weakened his utter devotion to you, that during the months away from you it had become easier and easier for someone else to turn his head. He told himself he’d do better next time; he’d do everything in his power to make sure you knew that being halfway across the world wouldn’t make him love you any less. Nothing could change that, no matter how long you had to be apart.

The words of Freddie’s song came back to mind. When I’m not with you, think of me always; I love you, I love you.

“I’m sorry too,” he said gently. “I love you, you know? More than anything in the entire world. You don’t ever have to be scared of me leaving you or cheating on you or doing anything other than loving you with everything I have. God, you were the only thing I thought about while I was gone. You always are.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. You could still make out the scent of lavender but you ignored it, focusing instead on breathing him in, his scent of cologne and Marlboro Reds and something uniquely Roger. He was warm, his heartbeat strong and steady against your cheek.

“I missed you so much,” you said quietly. The thought of him leaving again brought tears back to your eyes, those miserable tears that never seemed to stop when he was gone. “I don’t want you to leave again.”

He sighed. “Me either, love.”

You looked up at him, gazing at the man you loved more than life itself. The man who had proved that no matter what, you couldn’t make him stop loving you. The man who tirelessly loved you despite everything about you that was unlovable.

“I love you, Roger,” you said.

He kissed you gently, with all the tenderness of the first flush of love and all the devotion of someone who had weathered the storm with you.

“I love you too,” he said. He drew you closer, resting his cheek on your head, memorizing the feel of you so he’d have it when he was thousands of miles away. “Oh, my love. I love you too.”

forever taglist: @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl

[callumturncr]

A Different Path [Sirius Black AU] - Part 4

Summary: Post-graduation AU in which the reader, Lily and The Marauders have just joined the Order of the Phoenix. As tensions are at its highest in the First Wizarding War, the reader, who likes Sirius Black more than she would like to admit, is framed for the murder of Marlene McKinnon.

Parts:  1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8

Author’s Note: Starting from next week, updates will be on Saturday/Sunday instead of Wednesday because my school starts Monday, sorry! I hope you guys enjoy this part. Please feel free to message me if you want to be added on the tag list!

Gif is not mine. Words: 1.5k

Almost three years had passed and Y/N still hadn’t gotten used to the blasting cold that surrounded Azkaban prison.

It was the bone chilling kind that made you numb with prolonged exposure and the striped prisoner uniforms did nothing to shield against it. The monotony of solitary confinement and the Dementors that lurked along the corridors weren’t much comfort either. This had inevitably taken its toll on Y/N, both mentally and physically but like with the cold, she could do nothing to make herself feel better. Any positive thought, no matter how tiny would surely be fed upon by the Dementors.

Her cell was small with a port-hole like window that sat high up one wall. Small, white markings stood out on the other one – little lines made with a shard of rock to count the days she’d spent as prisoner – facing the door. It swung open right as she thought of it and Y/N flinched, waiting for the cloaked figure to swoop inside. But it wasn’t a Dementor.

Alastor Moody stood at the doorway, but this recognition only dawned on Y/N after a good few minutes. His face was covered with numerous scars and a chunk of his nose was missing, but the most shocking was his fake eye that was currently swiveling around the length of the room. Spotting her huddled against a dark corner, he moved inside.

“Y/L/N.”

Not sure if she was dreaming or not, Y/N stared at him in awe. He walked a few steps forward to see her a bit more clearly before crouching.

“Still got your wits about you?”

Recovering from her shock, she merely nodded in reply. There were so many questions that she had for him but she didn’t ask any, not trusting her voice. Instead, she sat up straighter and hid her shaking hands.

“Dementors give you much trouble?”

It was very unlike Moody to make small talk but Y/N thought that he had probably never found himself in this situation before. She shrugged.

“Why have you come?” Her voice was ragged from disuse.

“Annual visit with the Ministry,” he answered. “Crouch thought it would be good to see what became of the convicted Death Eaters in here.” As soon as he’d said it, he cursed under his breath. He hadn’t meant to sound as if Y/N was included in that category but the insinuation stung all the same.

“Why have you come to see me?” Once, the mere thought of questioning Alastor Moody would’ve made Y/N shudder but the Dementors were so draining, that she found herself past caring if she offended him or not.

“Dumbledore told me to check this floor.” He offered no more explanation. The magical eye had stopped scanning the room and was now fixed on her, bright and unblinking.

“You’ve missed a fair amount,” Moody said after a while. She looked on curiously but had half a mind to stop him. As much as she wanted to hear about the world beyond the tiny one that had become hers, thinking about her friends was painful. “Evans and Potter are married now. Have a son. Made Black the Godfather, he was best man at their wedding too.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Despite her markings on the wall, the days spent in her cell had all blurred together at some point but now, she truly realized how long it had been. Lily and James had a son. Something faintly resembling a smile broke out on her face and she found herself once again speechless. Moody inclined his head and spoke softer.

“Black goes to visit your friend’s grave regularly. Took her loss quite hard. Didn’t show at meetings for some time.”

At the specific mention of Sirius, Y/N looked towards the floor. Sirius’ words to her that day had stung most of all. The look of hatred on his face haunted her when she was awake, when she was asleep, in her dreams. As did the moment of Marlene’s death – Y/N had relived that night more times than she could count, each time envisioning something different she could’ve done to prevent it. Shaking her head fiercely, she expelled the image of Marlene’s dead body from her mind.

She didn’t want to hear about Sirius either.

“Where did they bury her?”

“Godric’s Hollow. She’s with her family.”

Y/N cocked her head to the side in confusion, heart thudding in her chest.

“Voldemort went after the whole McKinnon family after Marlene. Wiped out all of them,” he was still speaking softly, like his words might shatter her if he said them too loudly. She bit her lip, roughly wiping at her eyes. An entire family gone just like that. While she’d been holed up in Azkaban, Voldemort had only grown stronger and stronger and the McKinnons had taken the brunt of his power.

“You asked why I’m here,” Moody continued. “The Potters are about to be next.”

Surely she’d heard him wrong.

“Wh– what?”

“There is a prophecy that a boy born at the end of July possesses the power to defeat the Dark Lord,” he stopped seeing the incredulous look on her face but continued on before she could stop him. “Lily gave birth at the end of July, last year.”

She stared at him, dumbstruck. “How can a child–”

“That’s not the point. Voldemort reportedly knows about this prophecy. This boy it referred to can either be Lily’s son or Alice Longbottom’s. You remember Alice?”

Y/N nodded. “She was an Auror. Her husband as well.”

“Professor Flitwick told Dumbledore that a Fidelius charm could be performed to keep James, Lily and the boy safe. Something about hiding them in a living soul. The person whose soul is chosen is referred to as the Secret Keeper.” Moody paused and let out a sigh before dealing the final blow.

“The Potters have chosen Peter Pettigrew to be that Secret Keeper.”

Y/N’s blood ran cold. His words made no sense at all.

“No,” she began, “Why him? Why not Sirius? James’ best friend is Sirius.”

“Actually, Black was the one who convinced them to choose Peter instead.”

The thought of Sirius secretly being Death Eater too played itself out in her head but she shook it away. Sirius would never, not in a million years, betray the Potters. Not James, who had given him a home and a family and his trust.

But hadn’t she thought the same about Peter once?

“Then why not Remus? Don’t tell me they’re still at odds.”

“They are not. Once Crouch sentenced you, Black believed he had it wrong from the beginning. Remus was not the spy to be wary of…” Moody trailed off. Y/N steeled her gaze.

“He thinks it was me all along,” she finished for him. Something bitter rose within her; it had taken her imprisonment for them to make up.

“He believes he and Lupin would be too predictable as choices for Secret Keeper. Voldemort would never think it would be Pettigrew,” Moody said grimly. “But Sirius doesn’t know what you know does he, Y/N?”

She gaped at him as her mind worked to decipher what he meant. At last, she understood why Moody was here.

He believed her. Believed that Peter had been the one to kill Marlene, the one betraying the Order’s secrets. Believed that given the chance, he would betray this secret too. Moody stood up as the realization crossed her face.

“Sirius will not change his mind. It’s Peter’s word against mine,” she couldn’t help the bitterness in her voice.

“Unfortunately that is true. So we show him.”

His wand was in his hand and he hobbled closer to her.

“He will not take your word for it either. Legilimency won’t work,” Y/N said.

“Right again. Legilimency will not convince anyone, which is why I need the exact memory,” Moody’s eye had spun again so he could watch the door in case anyone came in. His real eye was focused on her as she pieced it together.

Dumbledore told me to check this floor.

“The Pensieve,” she breathed. Y/N closed her eyes as he brought his wand to her temple. A thin wisp of silver floated out and directed by his wand, placed itself in a small vial. He made his way back just as several muffled voices rounded the corner, Dumbledore’s deep rumble among them. Opening the door, Moody spoke loudly as if he had only just come to her cell.

“The Ministry of Magic has agreed to your trial,” he began. Y/N blinked in surprise and his sheepish look told her that he’d nearly forgotten to say this. “You will stand before the Minister and the Wizengamot in two months and tell them exactly what happened that night.”

The voices were drawing nearer. Moody gave her one final nod and pocketed the vial, about to close the door when Y/N called out.

“What’s his name?” she asked. “Lily’s son?”

The door had almost shut but she heard his answer.

“Harry Potter.”

Tag List: @knowledgeisthebomb @siriusement @kendratheweird  @emi-loser  @i-think-i-am-adorable @avengersassemblee @movokepwc @blackloveangel13 @misunderstood-sinner @vvytran @all-throughthe-night @ashkuuuu @thepuffyeyedpuff @annino112

[honeyy-piee-blog]

BAKU-BABIES JOIN THE FIGHT

Hey-o, friends and not friends; I decided (mostly for my own posterity) that I wanted to make a text post with visual references for describing my kids with Bakugou! Under the read more is a lot of information, so tread lightly lmao

First up are the twins:

Emiko and Takeo! 

Birthday: August 23rd

Sun Sign: Leo/Virgo Cusp

(Emiko was born three minutes before Takeo so she’s technically the oldest and she will not let Takeo forget it)

Emiko and Takeo are fraternal twins who both inherited mixed quirks from Katsu and myself.

Emiko’s face claim:

(Also Known As: Emi)

She inherited the quirk GUNPOWDER which allows her to create a highly explosive powder from her hands. She also inherited her dad’s hair texture, hair color, eye color, and drive to be the very best.

Emi is a brash, yet friendly girl with a lot of natural talent. She has a lot of friends and frequently trains to become the greatest hero she can be. Although, even with her natural talent and intelligence she has trouble studying and doing homework, resulting in her not always having the best grades.

Emi is a natural leader and was the captain of every sports team she was on, leading most of them to a sure victory (and to a sweet pizza place afterwards).

Emi loves rock music, her room is covered with posters and various types of guitars (that she can play semi-well)

Her fashion style is very sporty/punk chic; she has four piercings in her left ear and five in her right.

Also, she’s gay

Takeo’s face claim:

He inherited the quirk SUPERNOVA which allows him to emit an explosive force from his entire body. It is an incredibly powerful, yet destructive power, which has scared Takeo away from being a hero. At least, scared him away from the front lines.

He also inherited my hair texture, my natural hair color, my eye color, and my softness.

Growing up alongside Emi, Takeo was always the softer of the two. Where Emi was loud and take-charge, Takeo was quiet and introspective. Also a child born with a lot of natural talent, he tends to think through every scenario thoroughly before opening his mouth.

His incredible logic skills and hard working attitude have put him at the top of the class in grades for basically his whole school career.

As I said earlier, Takeo’s quirk is massively powerful, and due to an unfortunate accident in his youth, where he hurt some other kids while playing, he decided he never wanted to use his quirk except for in last effort, self defense situations.

His genius with computers and engineering has led him to Support Hero work, which is what he is currently studying. There are few things he loves more than hearing that he successfully helped a hero become better than they ever could have on their own with the equipment he designed.

Takeo has a green thumb, his room is littered with a variety of plants.

His fashion style is very modern chic. He wears a lot of button up-short sleeve shirts, sweaters, nice jackets, and nice shoes. He technically needs glasses, but his prescription is rather low so he doesn’t wear them if he doesn’t feel like it. He has one piercing in each earlobe.

5 YEARS AFTER EMI AND TAKEO ARE BORN

Bakugou and I decide to have another child! We named this sweet, baby gremlin:

Chihiro

Birthday: February 3rd

Sun Sign: Aquarius

(I decided not to do a face claim for her because I didn’t wanna like put up a picture of someone’s kid without their permission because I dunno it just feels weird??????)

Chihiro inherited the quirk FIREWORKS where she emits small, colorful explosions from her hands. She also inherited her mother’s hair texture, her father’s hair color, her mother’s eye color, and her mother’s sweet tooth.

Chihiro is a young girl who doesn’t have any interest in being a hero, all she wants to work on is

DESIGNING F A S H I O N

A very creatively charged youngster, she can frequently be found drawing her little heart out and/or hanging out with her grandma on a photoshoot set. She wants to go to a high school dedicated to the arts.

A sassy little thing who loves snacks, she always tries to strike deals with her grumpy father, who tries his best to get her to eat as healthy as she can (not to say she can’t have sweets, but if Chihiro had her way she’d have cake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner).

Chihiro also tries to convince me to let her dye her hair fantasy colors (like I do) even though I’ve told her time and time again she’s too young and will ruin her hair. We’ve compromised with hair chalk and colored extensions, which Chihiro wears in her hair almost every single day. I told her that once she turns 16 she will be allowed to dye her hair.

She dyes her whole head blue on her 16th birthday.

Her fashion style is Experimental, she began dressing herself and choosing her own clothes from a young age, so she’s still learning what she likes and what looks good together. She wears whatever she wants, basically.

In terms of their relationships with one another, as young children Emi and Takeo didn’t always get along. Growing up as twins a lot of teachers and other kids would compare them a lot, which made both of the children incredibly frustrated. Every year of grade school they asked to be put in different classrooms, so the comparisons would lesson. As they aged and discovered their very different talents, they grew apart with different friends and different clubs.

It wasn’t until they neared the graduation of junior high, that Emi swallowed her pride and knocked on her brother’s door, UA Application Practice Test in hand.

They were applying for different sections of the school, (Emi for the hero course and Takeo for the support course) and Takeo had his own studying to do, but seeing his own sister who had looked so strong his whole life come to him admitting weakness and asking for help, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy. And with a sigh, he let her into his room.

If it wasn’t for Takeo supporting his sister and helping her study, she might not have passed the written test for application into UA. After that, they began to understand each other more and grow closer as friends.

Chihiro took a lot of teasing from the older pair growing up, but for the most part got along with her siblings. Only fighting during long road trips or when Chihiro would immaturely show off for her friends by annoying her older siblings. Her older siblings have to babysit her a lot (which also would occasionally annoy the twins if they had plans), so they watched a lot of animated films together or would try to teach Chihiro how to make a cake from a box.

Both of her siblings are impressed with her creative talents, especially Emi, who said that when she grows up, Chihiro could design her hero costume. This made Chihiro’s eyes light up and sparkle, already babbling off immature ideas and making Emi chuckle.

So, there you have it! This was an incredible information dump, so if anyone besides Future Me is reading this, thank you for sticking around so long! Say, thank you, kids.

*chorus of three mismatched thanks and thank yous*