#but like. in the front spot (since i was standing closer to the bus & gearing up to put mine on the inner spot)

[orcelito]

oh yea i was also so late in leaving for my lab today that there was NO way i'd be biking in time. but i managed to catch the bus bc there was a spot for my bike so i got there on time after all <3

[imagineabrighterworld]

Summary// Ground Zero has been your crush since you were rescued by him, and ever since then, you've been writing love songs that your manager is sick and tired of hearing. One day on a live broadcast, you admit that the songs were inspired by your admiration for said hero. Little did you know, he was just in the other wing of the building getting his own interview done and decides to see you after the cameras are off.

A/N: I know his hero name is Dynamite but I wrote this before it was decided so I'm sticking with Ground Zero, sorry ^^;

————

You were never camera shy, you loved the stage and all that came with it. The lights, the flurry of makeup artists and the adrenaline rush of seeing the On-Air light turn red.

But the moment you saw him walk into the room, you swear your heart fell into your stomach and all the words you've ever sang were sucked right back into your throat.

- -

Ever since the accident that nearly took your life, you have been an active fan of Ground Zero. He was constantly in the news, either due to his heroics or due to being spotted with other top heroes such as Deku or Shoto. Considering he was their classmate in high school, the media gobbled up any coverage they could with the trio.

You on the other hand, were mostly into the tabloids for information on Ground Zero.

The accident was after one of your concerts. You had been on your way to your tour bus when a villain had attacked. Luckily none of your crew were hurt, but you were trapped under the rubble of the concert hall that had fallen when the villain rammed into the wall. It was cramped and had little oxygen, the air was full of dust and your lungs were heavy with the ash. You had broken your arm and had to use it to support yourself to keep from getting crushed under the rubble that was slowly but surely pressing down on you.

You had little hope for yourself as the rubble grew heavier, your arm giving out under the weight of your body, but before it could fully crush you, you heard the sounds of explosions.

Not long after, you felt the weight of the rubble lift.

Ground Zero had sent smaller blasts to break up the larger pieces of rubble before finally moving the giant piece that was pinning you to the ground. He scooped you up into his arms and murmured the same line under his breath as he brought you to the paramedics.

"You're safe now."

He lowered you onto the gurney and waited by you as the paramedics asked you questions, soon finding your rib was cracked as well. Ground Zero gave you a once over before parting with a quiet goodbye and a thank you to the medics that were helping you.

You didn't get the chance to thank him as the medics placed an oxygen mask on your face.

So you wrote him songs. You never used his name, but a hero was always implied when it came to songs about him. You tried to be subtle with the crush you had developed, but apparently you weren't subtle enough.

Your manager was sent an invitation for an interview to talk about your new album full of love songs. The album was crammed with songs about a one-sided pinning for someone who could never love back, but the last song was a ray of hope that they might find a way to each other.

Was it based on reality? No. Ground Zero couldn't have liked you like you liked him, he didn't know who he had saved and likely didn't look back on that event. He was a busy hero who saved people daily. He wouldn't know your name, but you could always dream maybe he would hold you like he did when you were hurt.

So there you were, in a chair with the lights on you and your interviewer.

"Your album is named Loved One, are you trying to send a message to a certain someone?" The man asks as he cleans his glasses with a wipe.

You fiddle with your hands on your lap, a half smile on your face. "It's a love song for someone, yes. But if he's ever heard it I'm not sure."

"Your songs have been in the top ten, with Sweet Delights being number one for seven weeks straight. Surely he's heard one of them."

True. Your music was popular. But did he ever hear them? Would he know it was him you were talking about when you sang?

Of course not. That's why you wrote your feelings with no fear of being found out.

"He's a very special man, I can't say he has the time for music." You turn your face as a small blush fans your cheeks. "He's a hero, I'm sure he's too busy to listen to the radio."

The interviewer leans forward in his seat, a grin tugging at his lips. "A hero?"

The live audience begins to whisper and you can hear the names of heroes being tossed around.

Deku. Shoto. Chargebolt. Cellophane.

Ground Zero.

"Yeah." You chuckle. "He saved me during an accident. I'll be forever grateful to him for saving my life."

"Love at first attack."

"Something like that."

"What would you say to him if he were here right now?" The interviewer leans back in his seat.

You look down at your lap, twiddling with your thumbs as you try to come up with the words. You've written dozens of songs, but what words would you give him?

"Thank you. For being my hero. I've written you love songs I never thought you'd hear. Maybe I thought it would make you feel the same way I feel for you." You look up from your lap and chuckle, this time a tad bit weaker. "Silly isn't it? I get to know so much about him but I'm just a dime a dozen that he saves. He doesn't even know my name."

The interviewer scoots forward and hands you one of the tissue boxes on his desk. You aren't about to start crying but you appreciate the gesture and take it from him anyway.

"Love can be tough. But you've written plenty about it haven't you?"

A light chuckle comes from the crowd.

You smile. "I know enough about pinning for someone who will never know me."

"What is his name? Maybe we could get him on here, get you a coffee date." He says in a playful tone.

What's the worst that could happen?

"Well, this is a little embarrassing, but it's Ground Zero." You rub your neck as the crowd collectively gasps. "He saved me after a concert I held, and ever since then he's been on my mind. I thought it was creepy, so I figured I would use my music as an outlet. My album is dedicated to unrequited love and accepting it. Hopefully I'll accept it one day too."

For a moment the interviewer is quiet, but when you look closer you see a smile is building on his face.

He clears his throat and lifts his remote control to the screen behind the both of you. "Ironically, in the west wing of the building, we're holding an interview with Ground Zero himself."

The screen turns on to show Ground Zero seated with his own interviewer.

They were watching your interview live.

And he just heard your admission to liking him.

Your grip on the tissue box tightens as you see his eyes scanning you.

Oh god you were going to be sick.

He stands up and walks out of the room. All you feel is lead in your gut as you watch the television move onto commercial.

Your interviewer presses on the Bluetooth in his ear and nods along to whatever the people were saying. But you didn't want to hear any of it. All you felt was dread.

He heard.

He heard.

He must think you were crazy. It was his job to save people! He didn't do it out of chivalry or kindness like some knight in a fairytale!

You let go of the box and cover your face with your hands. The crowd was talking now, you couldn't catch what they were saying but they were going wild.

Deciding to see what was getting the crowd so riled up, you look to the doors.

And there he is.

Standing across the room with his eyes glued to yours.

- -

So there you are. No words were forming and you felt like you were being sucked into the Twilight Zone.

The crowd cheers as he walks down the aisle in his full gear and makes his way straight to you.

You cover your face again as the interviewer speaks to him.

"The man of the hour, Ground Zero ladies and gentlemen!" He announces, but the crowd was already roaring with energy.

You feel the hero stand in front of you, mostly because he blocked your light, and soon you were wondering if you could sink into the cushions and disappear forever. Let Loved One be your momento mori, your swan song before you disappeared off the face of the earth.

"Hey."

No no no no- no!

You hear his gear shift and from the cracks between your fingers you see him crouch in front of you.

"Stop filming." He says to the interviewer.

"We still have five minutes to break-" The interviewer starts up but stumbles on his words. You hear the pop of small explosions and the murmur of the crowd.

"Break for two!" The producer calls from backstage.

"Hey."

This time, you lower your hands to cover your mouth, looking at Ground Zero with half of your face covered.

He looked just as he had when he rescued you, minus him being in his winter gear. But it was all the same. Even the tone he was using with you. Like you were fragile.

"Did you mean it?" He asks, his head nodding towards the screen above. "What you said about me."

"I.. I did." You uncover your face, using your nervous energy to hold onto the box of tissues instead, squeezing the life out of the poor box. "Every word. You saved me and I'm grateful." You look down in shame, unable to utter the next words while looking him in the face. "I- I know it's weird, to like someone you know so little about-”

"Bakugou Katsuki."

"Huh?"

"My name, is Bakugou Katsuki." He grips your chin gently and tugs you to look at him. He had a small grin on his face. "Go to dinner with me and I'll debate letting you call me Katsuki."

[jeonqqin]

man up. [m] | pt. 3

h. jisung x reader | netflix rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 4k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNINGS: slight angst?, gross/cringy couple, language

A/N: Hyunae is a normal person guys 🤭

▸ request

CHAPTERS:  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

© jeonqqin 2020

—UNEDITED

“Don’t even think about it.”

Jisung froze in place, his eyes wide. He hadn’t even said a word and you were already angry with him? He didn’t even know how you could tell it was him—your back was turned and you were staring intently down at your laptop. And he certainly hadn’t expected you to snap at him when he finally found you tucked away in the library.

“Huh?”

“If you plan on bothering me while I’m studying, I will not hesitate to throw my laptop at your head.” You threatened, not once taking your eyes off your notes.

“I didn’t even say anything!” Jisung defended, suddenly ready to block any flying objects from hitting his head. “I just got here!”

You turned your head to send a quick glare to him, just to make sure he knew you weren’t happy with him, before resuming your typing.

To say you weren’t happy with how your little dinner went the other day, would’ve been an understatement. You were currently giving the silent treatment to three of the five people who were at the table and even though you really had no reason to be mad at Jisung, he pushed your buttons so you wanted him away. Unfortunately, it seemed that you had grown a parasite.

“Come on, Y/n. Seriously?” Jisung asked.

Your head shook, eyes rolling in dismissal.

“Yes. I’m—” you sighed, hand lifting to rub over your eyes. You were tired and your eyes hurt. What were you studying again? “I’m serious, you asshole. I need to get this shit done and over with.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Yes.”

Even without looking at him you could tell he was pouting, his lip pulled up and brows furrowed.

“I didn’t do anything this time!” Jisung defended, rounding the table to look you in the eye. “Why’re you mad at me?”

He sounded so much like a scolded child, it took everything in your being not to just grab your stuff and leave. Though, as tempting as the thought was, he’d probably just follow you and you’d be right back at the start.

“You’re annoying.” You answered simply.

He stood there for a moment, watching you with too much intensity for your liking. You could almost see the gears turning in his head, his eyebrows slowly forming into a frown as the seconds tick by. It was unnerving to say the least.

But finally, Jisung sighed, reaching over to shut your laptop.

You gawked at his blatant disregard of your words.

“I—” You stammered, reaching out to grab his wrist in whatever attempt you were making to stop his disruptive behavior. “You can’t—!”

“When was the last time you ate?” He asked, freezing you in your spot.

When… did you eat last?

He waited for your protests and whines but none came, there was just a big puff of the last bit of your resilience. Jisung rolled his eyes fondly, his way of silently saying, “yeah, exactly”. So he continued onward, pulling your chair out and sliding your laptop into your bag.

“Let’s go.” He droned, grabbing your hand and tugging you out of your chair.

You released a small groan in defiance but it was short-lived as Jisung maneuvered your head to rest on his shoulder, one of his arms wrapping securely around your waist to keep you from going limp.

It hasn’t been the first time he had to drag you away from the library, and it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. You were too stubborn for your own good.

You sighed, finally just slipping into the warmth of Jisung’s shoulder. “You don’t have to baby me, you know.”

You felt Jisung’s body shake in a silent chuckle.

“I know. But I want to.”

You had always felt strange whenever Jisung took care of you. It wasn’t like Minho, who was your actual brother. Your relationship with Jisung was something that felt both artificial and natural all at the same time. He felt obligated to help you just as Minho did, but that only made things between the two of you feel fake. Though you knew he sincerely cared about your wellbeing.

If only he would stop trying to fit into that mould that Minho built around himself. Maybe then Jisung and you could be really good friends. But that would never happen while he was trying to compensate and prove whatever it was that he was trying to prove to whoever he was trying to prove it to.

Maybe after that he could be more than your brother's best friend.

“Lix is going to punch me if I miss our lunch again.” You huffed into the fabric of his... sweater?

When did he start wearing those?

Jisung patted your arm, “Well, he won’t be punching you today. You need to eat.”

Your eyebrow raised as you shifted enough to look at him.

“And you’re going to carry me the whole way?”

“Of course.” He nodded without a second thought, a proud smile on his face. “Where are we going?”

Jisung could be really cute sometimes, and you couldn’t help but smile at that realization. He thrived off of making other people feel good, and when he succeeded, he got giddy.

You struggled to pull your phone from your back pocket, scrolling through all the messages you and Felix sent that morning. You hummed, “Felix said we were going to Haven.”

Exiting the library, Jisung groaned, “Again? We just went yesterday.”

You shrugged against him. “He has a soft spot for Jeongin.”

Finally reaching the chilly air waiting outside of the university building, you cursed under your breath. No matter how many layers you threw on, the autumn wind was always there to seep through them, nipping at your sensitive skin. The leaves were finally changing, which was beautiful, but you couldn’t really appreciate their beauty when the wind and rain whipped them off their branches.

It was a little like college; no matter how pretty or vibrant you were, the whirlwind of work and studying always threw you around enough to knock you off that pedestal. Until you were bare and ready for summer to come again so you could recharge.

The cycle was a bitch.

Jisung sighed with you, his eyes gazing out at the pretty leaves as well. Gradually he adjusted you enough so he was able to slip his arm from your waist and then sliding it over your shoulders. The extra padding if his sweater was nice against your cheek, bringing just a little bit of warmth.

He peaked at you in the corner of his eye, looking forward again to avoid being caught in the action.

“Do you want to take the bus? It’ll take a little longer, but at least we won’t blow away.” He suggested with a small snicker as his bangs whipped around his eyes.

You considered it, hands finding warmth in the fabric of his grey pullover.

“Sure, but it’ll probably be packed since everyone is getting out of class.”

He looked to be weighing the options in his head, but suddenly he was at a standstill, his once-limp arm going completely stiff around you.

“Ji?” A delicate voice rang, followed by a small laugh. “I called you twice, baby. Where were you?”

Ew, you frowned, what a movie moment.

Hyunae stopped in front of you, her tawny locks swinging in a pretty braid at her ribs and her thick sweatshirt hanging loosely down around her thighs. You knew it was Jisung’s—you had seen him wearing it before. Hell, you’d seen Minho wearing it.

She wasn’t in anything extravagant or flashy, but with her honest eyes and round cheeks, she didn’t have to be to stand out from everyone else in the world.

The moment her eyes made a sweep of Jisung’s frozen position, they flickered to you, her face slowly settling into something akin to a frown. It was a look that could make anyone feel sad, her face looked unnatural when sullen.

With a nudge from you, Jisung jumped to his girlfriend’s side, leaving you exposed to the chilling wind.

Boys were stupid, weren’t they?

“Sorry, angel—”

Oh, gag.

“—Y/n stuffed herself in the library. Someone had to pull her out for some air.”

He smiled down at her, unconsciously maneuvering his body in the way of the violent wind, shielding her small frame.

She nodded slowly, again looking over towards you.

“Okay. But Ji,” she paused, grabbing his hand to gain his attention. “You know how I feel about you being affectionate towards other people, right…?”

Jealous, insecure, though not completely irrational—

Jisung bent closer to her, lips curled apologetically. “I know, baby. I’m sorry, but it’s like second nature with Y/n! She’s like a baby sister, you know that.”

Hyunae sighed. She was ready to spout out more choice words, but with a small smile, Jisung began to pepper her face with quick kisses, bringing a melodic giggle to her lips.

They seriously couldn’t have forgotten about you. You were standing three feet away from them.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, finding the flying leaves much more interesting than the display in front of you. The giggling stopped and things suddenly felt much more uncomfortable.

“I’m going to head over to Haven, okay?” You asked, ready to speed-walk as far away from their little reunion as you possibly could.

Hyunae places a chaste kiss to Jisung’s mouth before grabbing his hand and hooking it around her waist. She patted his stomach, fluttering her long lashes up at him, “I could go for something to eat. Can I tag along?”

Your nose scrunched up in distaste.

She had to be laying it on thick on purpose. You had seen the two of them together before and sure, they were a lovey-dovey couple, but did she have to look up at Jisung like he had hung the stars in the sky?

Jisung wasn’t any better, his cheeks a nice rosy color, and his hands touching all the little curves of her waist.

Every moment you were within range of Hyunae, you were ignored. She wasn’t outwardly an attention seeker, but just her being there called everyone’s eyes. Not that you wanted to be the center of attention necessarily, it only bothered you when you spoke out and were completely brushed off. Your words going in one ear and out the other with both Hyunae and Jisung, it was frustrating.

They were always in their own little world, and you couldn’t have been the only one who didn’t want to be there to witness it.

“Yeah,” Jisung nodded obediently. “Of course you can, sunshine.”

Well, if you hadn’t been hungry before, you definitely weren’t now.

You deadpanned, spinning on your heel, “Great. I’ll be on the bus then.”

“We’re definitely going on the bus though. Your pants look too thin to be walking around in this weather.”

Hyunae giggled at her boyfriend’s words.

Maybe you could lose them and take the next bus back to your dorm.

You weren’t being petty—no one liked being ignored. That was a fact. Stepping up to the campus bus stop, the last of the crowd was piling into the bright blue vehicle, and you released a relieved sigh. The last thing you wanted to do was sit and wait for ten minutes while Jisung and Hyunae cooed and pinched each other’s cheeks.

Your relief proved to be in vain, however, as you slid into the last remaining seat, only to be followed by the couple. They stood directly in front of you, their shadow casting down and becoming the only thing you could see.

Never had you thought that you would be able to feel your stomach flipping upside-down inside of you as Hyunae pulled Jisung down into a kiss in front of everyone in the crowded bus. Would you really be committing a crime if you threw them out the window? Could it be considered a public service?

“Baby, stop! There are people here…”

Seriously, what kind of sadistic soap opera were you living in?

You had thrown yourself out of your seat the moment the bus crawled to a stop. It was a good thing the diner was the first stop or else you probably would’ve walked the rest of the way and risked being caught in the wind. Even then it would’ve been better than sitting and pretending not to see the cuddling happening a foot away.

You were going to order a cup of coffee and leave with a stomachache—that was your plan.

Maybe Minho would be home and you would be able to slide into his bed and beg for him to cuddle you. Not that there was a particular reason why you were suddenly feeling needy and void of attention, Minho was just kind of squishy and made a good pillow on occasions where you had to force yourself to sleep before you attempted to squeeze more studying in.

“It took you long enough to get here.” Felix called as you slid into the seat beside him, waving off the confused look he sent you. You simply motioned towards the smiling couple and watched as your best friend’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, yeah. Okay.”

You deadpanned, “Quick, kill me before they get here. We can both get out of this.”

“No way, you get the easy way out. I’m here stuck with murder.”

You patted his shoulder sympathetically, the sides of your mouth finally twitching at the corners.

“Trust me, jail for life is better than five minutes around these two.”

“You’re being dramatic. Let the young couple be gross.” Felix said as he nudged at your arm.

“Screw you and your dumb romantic heart. To normal people this is bordering on public indecency.”

Felix’s lip curled at the side as the two sat down on the other side of the table, Hyunae grabbed one menu for the both of them and opened it to discuss amongst themselves and they had to be covering every single disgusting couple trope out there. No matter how many times you witnessed it, it would always surprise you as to just how much you wanted to throw up.

But it was when Felix mouthed the word “jealous” did you determine that your day was just going to be shitty and you couldn’t do anything about it anymore.

“Did you order yet, Lix?” Jisung chimed, his voice almost sounding brighter than it had before. Did Hyunae really affect him that much?

“No. I was waiting for Y/n to get here.” He shrugged, holding up his own menu.

Hyunae looked up, her eyes shining with worry.

Gross.

“I hope we didn’t intrude or anything.”

Who even said “intrude” anymore?

Felix shook his head. “You’re fine. Y/n is usually a bummer to eat with anyway.”

Hyunae glanced your way before chuckling, shaking her head as she refocused back on Jisung who was desperately trying to show her something on the laminated sheet in front of them. He was actually a child.

Who got excited about menus? He ordered the same thing every time he ate at Haven, what was there to be excited about?

“What can I get you guys?”

Jeongin’s smile just barely lifted your mood, and you were grateful.

Felix set his menu down, “I’ll just have a Coke, and I wanted to know if I could order off the dinner list?”

And with that question, your mood was immediately diminished. You frowned, sending Felix a look similar to disgust.

What kind of day were you having?

“Can even be considered dinner? It’s four o’clock, who eats dinner at four in the afternoon?”

“It’s called the early bird special, you disrespectful baby. Old people do this shit all the time.” Felix pointed, sliding his menu across the table to Jeongin.

“Sorry that I don’t know the routine of old people, Felix.”

Jisung frowned, his eyes trying to catch yours to assess what was wrong, but you were too busy ripping up what was left of Felix’s napkin. Though, Hyunae noticed where Jisung’s gaze was lingering, and slid her fingers through his.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” Hyunae asked, voice lit with the intention of lightening the mood. “You seem a little grumpy today.”

But you saw nothing humorous in her comment. You bit your tongue, hard enough to taste the faintest of copper.

“A coffee.”

“Just—?”

“Just a coffee, Jeongin.”

The table went tense at the way your voice rose, Jeongin moving quickly to jot down your simple request, no longer looking up from his notepad. You would’ve felt bad had you not been so frustrated with the turn out of the day.

Hyunae then cleared her throat, her brows raised in the smallest action of judgement. It was similar to the many looks she had shot at Hyunjin during one of their many heated arguments, and that was what you hated about Hyunae. Not only did she get on every one of your nerves by being the world’s best girlfriend, but she had the incredible ability to make you feel like you had done so much wrong just within the few seconds of her flashing that look.

“Okay, then. Me and Jisung will have—”

And her “Me and Jisung,” that was what made your stomach churn the most.

“Sorry, Jeongin.” You said, startling everyone, including the boy you addressed as you stood from the booth. “I’m not feeling very well. I have to go.”

“O-Okay. Feel better, Y/n.” Jeongin said, moving out of your way.

“Woah woah woah,” suddenly, Jisung was standing too, grabbing your arm before you could rush out the door. “Where are you going? You need to eat.”

For whatever reason, his words only infuriated you more, feeling your ears heat and muscles tense under his grip. Was that what it took to get his attention? You had to throw a fit before he gave you the time of day?

You ripped your arm from his hold, not even giving the table a second glance before spinning on your heel.

“Fuck off, Jisung.”

As you stormed off, throwing open the door and leaving with a huff, Jisung watched your retreating form with wide eyes. It was as if you had slapped him, mouth gaping and brows furrowed in confusion.

Felix sighed, suddenly feeling bad for pushing your buttons in that ordeal. “She’s tired.” He concluded, slouching in his seat.

“I’ll say…” Hyunae quipped.

And for whatever reason that was, Jisung really wanted to snap at her, to defend you and tell her to quit being a bitch. But his voice was lost as he looked down at her, only able to muster up a silent scoff as he sat back down. He didn’t even push away her hand when it reached for his.

What perfect timing to realize that he was afraid of his own girlfriend.

He was such an asshole.

Both your and Jisung’s thoughts were very similar at that moment.

And how you could go from leaning your head against Jisung’s warm shoulder to wanting to rip his head off was unbeknownst to you.

You had to leave in that moment, if you hadn’t you didn’t know what you would’ve said… or screamed. You were just so frustrated and so tired, convincing yourself that no, you did not want to cry in front of everyone who was enjoying their early bird special.

There was school, all your homework creating a permanent dent in your life filled with papers and essays and tests, and there was Minho there to nag at you and chase away any boy that gave you the time of day. They had always been in your life. But now there was Jisung and Chan, new emotions and problems to throw into the mix. With everything going on, it was difficult to keep up, and you actually missed the moments when it was just Minho there to tuck you under his arm and lecture you about boys.

In your thoughts, you never even noticed how you completely walked past the bus stop and had come up to a quiet playground on the edge of campus. How you had managed to walk that far, you didn’t know. Perhaps it was all the pent up stress that just had you zoning out and walking, or your body was subconsciously trying to get you kidnapped so you didn’t have to deal with your problems anymore.

You were feeling a bit better, so either way, it worked.

Finally, you found your legs carrying you to one of the swings, the black seat reminiscent of your childhood where you would always burn the backs of your legs in your hurry to get there before everyone else. That black rubber always got so damn hot.

With a small smile, you sat down, almost disappointed to feel the coolness against your jeans.

Your legs of course bent awkwardly under you, you weren’t a kid anymore unfortunately, and it was pretty strange to push off on something that you had forgotten entirely about but had thought so highly of before. Despite it being strange, it felt nice, and you were thankful that the wind was dying down as it was getting later in the day, the sun making its way towards the ground in front of you.

Rocking yourself in the swing you reached back for your phone. You wanted to apologize to Felix for storming off and probably worrying him, he was sort of your mother in that way. But you weren’t really ready to squeeze back into reality like that, so you called someone else.

“Y/n? What’s up?”

You felt your lips quirk up.

“Nothing much. What about you?”

The man on the other line hummed, the faint sound of typing just barely made out. “This song isn’t fitting together and I kind of want to scream, so I’m doing pretty good.”

“I think I’m doing pretty good then too.”

You rested your head against the chain of the swing.

“Did something happen?”

You made a sound that could be read similarly to “yes, but I think I’ll sound stupid if I tell you”, but it successfully pulled a laugh from him, so it was worth it.

“I don’t think you want to listen to my woes.”

“I always want to listen to your woes.”

His tone was joking, but his words were genuine, you could tell.

And finally, you were smiling, as difficult as it had been all day, you were able to while talking to him. There was no Jisung, no Hyunae, no judgment. You could talk to him without worrying, and you knew that for sure.

“And I want to throw up because of how cheesy that was.” You retorted, using the same joking tone he had spoken in.

There was the sound of shifting, and ruffles of fabric—as if he had just stood from his desk and fell back onto his bed.

“Don’t make fun of me, I’m already feeling bad about my song. Now tell me about your day so I can feel better about mine.”

You snorted, pushing yourself off on the swing once more.

“Okay, Chan. Whatever you say.”

[1kook]

subdued

— good boy joon on his bday x fem reader

summary; He could so easily take you over in the bedroom, push you down and ram himself inside until you cried. But it’s the other way around, and he likes it that way. tags; birthday boy joon, solo rapper joon, college student reader (unspecified year/age lol), this entire fic is based off THIS joon everyone look and never forget him warnings; kissing, blowjobs, grinding, unprotected, birthday sex, sub!joon word count; 5k

notes; hoooo boy, if you think my other fics were self-indulgent, this one is straight from my 3 am thoughts... anyway. i actually have the same birthday as joon so this fantasy plays off very different in daydream universe no. 794 lol but i understand not everyone is as lucky as us sept 12 babies so i adjusted it 😌

The stoplight down the street from his building takes the longest. He had warned you of its faulty mechanics the very first time you visited. It lingered on red a beat too long, wasted precious seconds you could be spending with him. It’s been the sole challenger to your patience this past year. Every time you wanted to visit him, it was this same stoplight that held you up— made the sugar in his coffee cup settle, the food in its container go cold. It absolutely dampened your mood.

Today, it’s from the back of an Uber that you watch the red glow of the light, gaze fading in and out of focus. It’s raining, the rhythmic pattering of raindrops against the wind shield hypnotizing you. There’s a styrofoam box of takeout beside you falling into the same fate as all its predecessors, tucked inside a plastic bag. It’s his favorite today, the black bean noodles down the street from your university paired with a sickeningly sweet fizzy drink. (There’s a cheap bottle of wine too, but he was never one for getting shitfaced so it had a slim chance of consumption.)

The longer the light stalls, the more nervous you become. One glance at your phone tells you it’s nearing eleven forty-nine, your last message to him just a few minutes before. It was a slew of sad faces as you apologized for the fifth time that night. Another minute ticks by and you’re suddenly hit with the overwhelming fear that you won’t make it on time.

It was Namjoon’s birthday.

At least it would be for the next ten minutes.

You hadn’t seen him all day, your usual Saturday morning brunch postponed by your conflicting schedules. You had a huge group project coming up, and the other students in your group all had lives of their own, jobs, sports, dates, that made their schedules hard to work around. Namjoon, too, was busy gearing up for the release of his mixtape, a collection of songs he had worked hard on for the better half of the year.

He had been planning for this since you first met, around this time the previous year. It was all he ever spoke about these days, which was both endearing and worrisome. Regardless of how you felt about his avid dedication towards his mixtape, you would continue to support him through it all.

You were supposed to drop by after your last class, but one thing led to another and suddenly you were babysitting your neighbor’s kids as she ran off to the hospital. You had felt bad for her, something about a relative in an accident, and had said yes without thinking through what exactly that meant. Two overexcited children and a kitchen lined in cake batter, is what it meant. Your neighbor had returned a little before eleven, and by then you were really cutting it close.

The order you placed had been ready when you got to the little restaurant, and, deciding to forgo bus stop waiting times, the Uber came quickly enough. Because things can never go your way, there was a small accident on one of the major streets that set you back, leading to your driver taking an abrupt detour that you doubt was helpful, and now you were here.

You bite down on your lower lip for probably the umpteenth time, flipping your phone around to check the time. 11:52.

The light changes a second later, your chauffeur for the evening slowly easing his foot off the break and sending the two of you one step closer to your boyfriend. The movement doesn’t ease your nerves in the slightest, foot tapping wildly against the carpeted flooring of the backseat as you think of that creaky elevator. Will it be on your side today? Or will it force you to run four flights of stairs up to his floor?

You won’t know until you get there, absentmindedly tipping the poor soul who bore witness to the rolling waves of tension that had swamped your body tonight. You can only hope it’s an appropriate bill, taking off toward the front doors of his building. The water on the sidewalk splashes beneath your frantic footsteps, tickling your bare ankles. The black boots you wore that day did nothing to save you, a small gust of cold air trying to sweep up beneath the thin material of your dress, luckily to no avail.

The front area is as empty as it usually is, though you doubt the late hour would change that. Knuckle jammed harshly against the flickering elevator button, you wait impatiently for it to descend. His small label takes up the entirety of the fourth floor, studios squeezed beside meeting rooms and offices. It was by no means a monster record label, but it had gained enough fame from the quality soloists it produced over the years; Namjoon was quickly becoming one of those. The carriage is on the fifth floor, right above his, the digital panel beside you says. It passes his floor, passes the fourth, and then… nothing.

You curse every deity in the universe as you watch it freeze on the second floor. You had been so close, you groan, kicking the tip of your shoe against the metal doors. It does nothing to fix the broken elevator, and with one heavy sigh, you turn to the flight of stairs. It was 11:54 now.

The stairway is silent, off-grey concrete walls mocking you as the time continues to tick down. Holding the plastic bag to your chest, you start up the stairs in a hurry. The rustling of the bag grows annoying quickly, your thighs aching half way up. The platforms between floors provide nearly no reprieve before you ascend the next level of stairs, heaving for air as you turn onto the final platform before his floor. Your hair sticks uncomfortably to the back of your neck.

You can’t fling the door open fast enough, heart hammering between your rib cage. The hallway is filled with blissful air conditioning, nothing like the stuffy air of the staircase. You relish in it for a second before taking down the winding halls, torpedoing straight into the room your boyfriend’s in.

“Happy birthday,” you gasp, only hoping you made it in on time. Your sudden appearance has him whirling around in surprise, dark eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets at his surprise intruder. The digital clock above one of his speakers blinks back at you. 11:59.

The surprise wears off soon enough. Namjoon melts back into his puffy chair, easy going smile taking over his features as he regards your ruffled appearance. “Jesus, what’ve you been up to?” he teases playfully, standing up to relieve you of the bag in your hand, still warm against your chest.

He brushes a kiss against your forehead, placing the plastic bag somewhere off behind him before enveloping you in your arms. “Thank you, baby,” he hums, strong arms wrapped around your shoulders. Almost immediately the tension in your body melts away, oozes out of your skin as you bury yourself against his chest. It feels good to be there, the faint cologne from that morning clinging to his white zip-up.

“Sorry I’m so late,” you murmur. Feeling comforted enough, you pull away from your hiding spot against his chest. The arms hanging loosely around your waist don’t let you get too far, low-lidded eyes staring down at you over the straight angle of his nose. “So much happened today— I’m sorry.”

Namjoon waves your apologies off as he guides you towards his computer chair. He plops down first, pulling you over to sit on his thigh. The clock ticks by, and suddenly his birthday is over. The scent of the noodles fills his dark studio, and you become acutely aware of the soft melody drifting from his speakers. Nothing too developed yet, just a simple piano with a bass drum kicking in.

“Another year, another grey hair,” he sighs, leaning back against his seat. You laugh at his dramatics, running a finger through the head full of silver hairs he’s rocking this time around.

“I fail to see the issue,” you muse, shifting about until you can loop your arms around his neck, pulling his face close enough to yours to kiss. He lets you, opening his mouth when your tongue prods against his plush, doll lips. He tastes of that energy drink you know is bad for him, the one that keeps him up way past his nonexistent bedtime. You should scold him for it, but there’s something about the way he molds his mouth against yours that makes it difficult to pull away and do so. You kiss him for a few minutes, lips casually molding against each other.

The enticing scent of the food you brought over has you pulling away with a soft smack of your lips, lazily grinning down at him. “You should eat,” you encourage, attempting to move out of his grip. If anything, the hands on the small of your back stiffen, keeping you comfortably pressed against him.

“Don’t want to,” he whines, half-lidded eyes gazing at you with that tender look. He leans back in, nudges his nose against yours until you’re moving to accommodate him again. His lips catch yours a second time, a soft sigh released on his end. His body feels like a furnace, swaddled up in that nice white tracksuit, some fancy brand he’s an ambassador for. There’s something about him that’s different today, cherry lips catching you in a daze. He seems totally aware of the pull he has over you, moving his mouth against yours like he knows he’s won you over and was now ready to dedicate the rest of the night to you.

You weren’t having any of that, at least not tonight.

Knitting your hands in his hair, you tug. You tug and tug until he’s releasing you with a whine, swollen red lips shiny from your lip gloss. It’s certainly a look on him, and as he pants beneath you, you’re left wondering why he’s chosen to be an elusive rapper when his doll-like face could easily blend into the idol world.

Another mystery you’ll never solve.

“Missed you today,” he admits bashfully, lips pulling into a shy smile he tries to hide from you. You reward his confession with a soft peck against his cheek, hands cupping his soft cheeks between your palms. Despite how easily you’d been forgiven before, there’s a tinge of a whine curling around his next words. “Who blows someone off on their birthday?” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut.

You chuckle, tracing your thumbs over his skin. They just barely brush against the corners of his mouth, the soft flesh begging to be touched. “Who spends their birthday cooped up in a tiny room?” you reply teasingly, leaning in to kiss the mole beneath his plump lips.

Namjoon inhales softly, head lolling backwards as you kiss down his chin, over his pulse point. “Was inspired,” he weakly defends, the grip around your waist growing tight. “There was a pretty girl in my dreams last night.”

“Oh?” You hum, slithering off his lap. The floor mat he has beneath his rolling chair to protect his hardwood floors is cold. There’s ridges on it that press uncomfortably into your knees. But all that is forgotten when you roll your hands over his shoulders, kiss his neck tenderly, and he groans. “How pretty?”

Your back is straining from being awkwardly stretched over him in a desperate attempt to kiss the entire column of his neck. He doesn’t make it easier, hips wiggling before you as you nip against the side of his neck. “Joon?” you coo, sliding your hands down his chest. The muscles jump beneath his zip-up, one shuddering exhale escaping him.

“R-Real fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mumbles, hands circling your shoulders. He wants to pull you close like he always does, but you can tell he’s equally as conflicted by the need to push you down onto his cock.

The front zip of his sweater gives with one tug, the clicks of the teeth coming apart following your hand down. He’s wearing a plain white shirt underneath, the beginnings of sweat clinging to the flimsy material. You place your hands around his waist, let the fabric catch over your knuckles as you glide them upwards. The sinewy muscle quivers under your touch, Namjoon’s breath catching in your throat.

When you reach his pecs, he barely contains the whimper in his throat, hands releasing you in favor of clutching at the armrest. “Please,” he huffs, the white zip-up halting you from pushing any further. “Off.”

“Of course,” you purr, pushing it over his deltoids. He doesn’t shake the sweater off completely, the sleeves catching over each other in his haste to feel you closer against his body. The t-shirt remains tugged up to his chest, held up by your wandering hands. “Relax for me, okay?” you croon, leaning forward to nip at his lower lip. The plush skin bounces back, redder than ever. He nods shakily, chest rising and falling.

You place a kiss directly on his sternum, his heart fluttering wildly just a few inches away. You feel it beneath your palm, the way it beats wildly out of rhythm for you. The music loops back around, the same melodious tune mixing with his airy sounds. You trail your mouth lower, letting it mold against the faint ridges over his abdomen.

He’s been putting on muscle these last few months. It’s a sight you only get to appreciate in moments like these. Namjoon wasn’t a flashy performer; he was too shy to wear revealing outfits, not that they particularly fit his onstage aesthetic anyway. He liked it simple and dark, wanting his words to capture people more than his looks.

It was a humble approach, really, because you don’t doubt for a second someone with looks of his caliber couldn’t pull fans with that alone. But as you said before, Namjoon didn’t like that sort of thing, and you suppose that’s why he’s declined invitations to join rookie boy groups time and again. He had worked hard to make himself known on his own, frequenting various hip hop scenes until he picked up steam. By the time you’d met him, he had his own contract, with this same company you’re currently in.

Now he was freshly twenty-six, on the cusp of releasing his first full mixtape, completely of his own creativity. His first mini-album had done extraordinarily well, but there had been a lot of outside partners and producers that pushed it along. This mixtape was one hundred percent him, a fact you couldn’t be more proud of.

What better way to treat him than to shower him in attention like this?

You press a soft kiss to his belly button, glancing up just in time to see those plush lips pull into a smile, pearly white teeth appearing in between, eyes fluttered shut. The waistband of his matching bottoms stretches easily enough, giving you a brief view of the dark underwear he’s got underneath. You let it snap back into place, relishing in the tiny gasp he gives. “You’re acting extra sweet for me today, aren’t you?” you smirk, running a palm over the bulge beneath his pants. His knuckles tighten dangerously against his armrests.

“I’m the same,” he chokes out, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you give his outline a teasing squeeze. “Just… lower please.”

His statement is followed with one hand on the back of your head, tentatively urging you closer to his stiff member just an inch. He’s so polite and shy tonight, cheeks tinted a nice rosy color as he looks away from your lewd expression practically salivating over the prize hidden beneath his clothes. His bottoms come down around his thighs, throbbing cock bouncing up to tap his stomach.

“Oooh,” you say appreciatively, taking him in your hand. Namjoon flinches, a groan catching in his throat as you trail your fingers over his cock. They end at the tip, swollen and red; you can’t help yourself as you duck down, kissing the tip softly. Namjoon full on shivers, hips bucking against your touch.

“Please, just... touch,” he begs, wiggling around underneath you.

You nod, pulling away to plant your hands against his hips. “Have to sit still for me, big boy,” you remind him, pushing down until his bottom glues itself firmly to the leather padding of his chair again. He does so with a huff. Clouded eyes meet yours, so beautifully framed by the blood that rushes to his face.

Despite calming him just moments before, the first kiss against his tip makes him squirm and buck like a wild stallion, your name falling from his lips like a mantra. Eventually he calms down, labored breath fanning across his chest as he watches you lower your mouth down around his cock. It twitches in your hand, one perfect pearl of cum oozing from the tip. It’s barely rolled down past his head when you strike, the tip of your tongue scooping it up quickly.

A little on the salty side, but it still makes you shudder. Above you, Namjoon isn't faring that well either. He groans, hands clenched over the armrest as he tries his best to be good for you. “More,” he says hoarsely, silver hair dangling over his eyes. It creates a curtain between you two, his beautiful expression hidden from your view.

You ease his cock down your mouth. It feels just as good as you remembered. Your knees ache from being on the ground, but you wouldn’t trade places with anyone in the world right now. An inaudible moan resonates from above you, his back going stiff the further down you swallow him. You could practically feel yourself drooling, excess saliva making his entrance into your mouth so much easier. You get about two thirds down before it becomes difficult, lips pulled taut around his swollen member. The tip is reaching dangerous territory now, nudging against the soft spot in the back of your throat.

You could gag, but that would only startle him away, make him worry about you. You don’t want that, not when he’s melting into his seat with every inch you swallow. So you push the discomfort away, focus on feeling the entirety of his cock in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he whines, shaking his silvery locks away from his eyes when he leans forward to look at you. You take extra care to bat your lashes up at him; he obviously likes the sight, his lower lip catching between his teeth for the umpteenth time that night.

When you finally surpass that initial discomfort, his cock wonderfully resting in your mouth and throat, everything becomes so much better. The drag against your lips feels almost heavenly, never mind the fact it would certainly leave the skin around there soft and tender tomorrow. It’s something you’re willing to overlook, running the flat length of your tongue against the underside of his cock to distract him.

You make one hand busy, reaching down to cup his balls. The skin is soft, but tight, like it’s taking everything in him not to bust right now. The other situates itself loosely against his hip, thumb drawing slow circles against the skin. He’s grown hotter since you’ve gotten here, like your own personal furnace.

He’s a good boy, through and through.

It had admittedly taken a while to tame his wildness; there had been a time where he would push your head down his cock the second your lips touched his mouth. Now, he fared pretty well against his own carnal instincts, blunt nails digging into the armrests in order to stop himself. Thanks to this, you’re able to pick up a comfortable pace against his cock, bobbing up and down between his thighs.

“M-More,” he pants, muscles trembling from the exertion it takes for him to hold himself back. “Please,” he throws in.

You appease him, letting go of his balls to grip the base of his cock. He hisses at the touch, hips unconsciously jumping. You hold him tight, squeezing his cock between your palm until his thighs are quivering too. The descent down his cock is easier too, no longer trying to swallow him up whole every time.

It only calms him for so long before that same plea is falling from his lips again. This time, you pull off completely, lazily jerking him off as you rest an elbow on his thigh, chin falling into your open palm as you analyze his figure. “Always need more,” you sigh, the slippery sound of your hand mingling with his little moans.

Namjoon’s jaw tightens, head falling forward until his chin touches his chest. “Would like to fuck now,” he seethes, his t-shirt growing damp at the collar from all the sweating he’s been doing.

“Is that so?” You smile. As you say this, you loosen your grip, letting your hand fall away much to his dismay. “Your clothes, Joon,” you explain, using his thighs as leverage to push yourself to your feet again. There’s creases on the skin over your knees, skin and joints tender from the position. That gets pushed to the back burner as you watch Namjoon finally fight his way out of his clothing, hands stuck in the sleeves of his zip-up.

“Off, off,” he huffs, eventually tugging it off all inside out. The shirt is next, neck hole stretched huge as he peels it away from his body.

You muffle a giggle behind your palm, placing a hand on his bare shoulder when he’s done. He’s looking at you with those same, desperate eyes, stealing your heart without even realizing. “Adorable,” you tease only to watch the blood crawl over his ears and down his neck. You throw a leg over him, his thigh pressing against yours. Before you can mount him you’re tugging off the thin jacket you’d worn that day, pawing it off until only the thin barrier of your dress is between the two of you.

With both knees pressed to either side of him, you finally show him what he wants to see. The sundress you’d worn that day makes everything so accessible. The flimsy material stretches over your ass, sits pretty around your waist to reveal your sheer panties. The sight makes Namjoon groan, eyes downcast as he fights to see your pussy. You return his gaze with a hand against his jaw. “Look at me, sweetheart,” you murmur, looping your hands around his head, finding their place on the nape of his neck first. Your fingers instinctively run through his locks, drawing an airy gasp from him.

“Yes,” he breathes, lower lip brushing against yours from such close proximity. You smile down at him, easing your core down on him. His cock pressed against your clothed panties, leaving a wet trail against the exterior side of them.

He fits snugly between your folds, hesitant hands resting at your hips like he wants to grind you down but knows better than to attempt such a bold move. You reward his behavior with a faint kiss against his cheek. “Good boy, Joonie,” you praise, barely containing your own gasp as you wiggle over his cock. “Being so nice for me today,” you sigh, grinding down against him.

Namjoon shivers, cock throbbing against your soiled panties. “Always good for you,” he groans, a trail of sweat running down from his hairline.

Another kiss is pressed against his face, this time against his cheekbone as you begin grinding back and forth. “That’s right,” you confirm, hugging him tight to your chest, until his face is practically buried between your breasts. “Even on your birthday,” you sigh, stretching a hand behind you to tug your panties to the side. The first glide of his cock against your folds has him bucking against you, a choked gasp escaping both your lips.

“I-Yes,” he cries, hands wrapped tight around you.

You bite down a whimper, his length running over every inch of your folds. It makes your toes curl when he stimulates your clit. Your attention had been solely on making him feel good tonight, that the barest amounts of pleasure to your own body was enough to make you shake. “Tell me,” you pant, moving back to grab him by the shoulders as you run against his length. “What you would do if you weren’t my good boy.”

Namjoon cries at your sudden pace, head lolling back as he fights every instinct in his body telling him to just fuck right into your inviting heat. “Can’t,” he sobs, eyes squeezed shut.

“Joon,” you growl, snapping your hips forward roughly. “Tell me.”

He shakes his head with another whimper, thigh muscles jolting beneath you. It makes you shift forward, clit running hard along his cock. “No, you’ll—“ he wheezes, fingers digging deep into your sides now. “You’ll… think I’m bad. Dirty.”

You lean forward, shove your tongue into his mouth with no warning. He moans, letting you push his tongue around until yours is halfway down his throat, licking and slurping every inch of him you can reach. You yank his head back by the hair, catching those watery eyes. “Tell me all your dirty thoughts,” you croon, lips trailing down his jaw. “Tell me them and maybe we’ll make them come true.”

Namjoon moans. “You,” he hesitates. While he does that, you reach down to align his cock with your hole, throbbing to be filled. His tip brushes along the tightened lips surrounding your entrance, reducing him to a stuttering mess. “You tell me I’m dirty,” he cries, “dirty and messy, and-and you make me beg for forgiveness just to cum, s-sometimes you don’t like it and make me d-do it again,” he babbles. “I-if you’re feeling mean y-you just edge me. Until I cry.”

You sink down on his cock, your shared arousal making the glide slippery and so wet. It’s almost too easy how he fits inside of you, your back arching as the head of his cock runs deliciously against your walls. The sensation of your cunt wrapped tightly around his cock has him gasping for air.

“Until you cry?” You repeat through clenched teeth. “Like you are now?”

Namjoon trembles, hips and thighs twitching every few minutes. He nods his head, but he’s become overwhelmed by his thoughts and your touches, so the movement ends up looking more dazed. There’s a couple tears that escaped and painted pretty trails down his cheeks, one catching on the corner of that pout of his. The rest pool in the corner of his eyes, glassy just like his sweat-soaked skin.

“Happy birthday,” you mumble, brushing his hair away from his face to press a kiss against his forehead. Namjoon groans. “Fuck me, baby,” you purr, wrapping your hands around his neck again. “You deserve it.”

Namjoon lets out a loud cry at your permission, hands tightening around your hips. He wastes no time, bucking into you like a wild animal that’s desperate to cum. You don’t blame him; he’d been close to cumming down your throat, and recounting his demeaning fantasies while stuffed deep inside you certainly didn’t help.

You let him jostle you to and fro, dick slipping in and out of your pussy with an unreal amount of force. He was grunting all kinds of sounds against your shoulder, biting down on the skin like it would calm him. It doesn’t, and you already know there will be a big bruise to attend to tomorrow.

With every thrust, the head of his cock rubs against that sensitive spot in your pussy, back arching at the angle he pushes in at. It makes every hair on your body stand, the animalistic sounds he’s releasing reaching deep into your core.

It’s a brief reminder of what this man was truly capable of, buff arms and thick thighs lifting you around like you’re nothing. He could so easily take you over in the bedroom, push you down and ram himself inside until you cried. But it’s the other way around, and he likes it that way.

Well, you liked it that way too, especially if it meant having this big strong man so pliant under your touch.

“Fuck,” you moan, holding the back of his head closer to where he’s seemingly set on bruising your entire shoulder. “Just like that.”

Your walls clench around his length, squeezing him so tight that it becomes difficult for him to move. A wail catches in his throat, his body beginning to burn out from the initial burst of energy he’d received when you gave him the go ahead. “I-I,” he pants, weakly and unevenly bucking into you. You know he’s close from the cute wavering of his speech, his usual eloquent speaking style reduced to a stuttering mess. You take pity on him, gearing your muscles up again to see him to completion.

It doesn’t take long. A few slow rolls of your hips later and he’s spasming beneath you, your name rolling off his tongue in a series of soft whimpers. He continues groaning even afterwards, hands falling limply to his sides as you finish yourself off.

The thing about this big strong body was that it burned out extremely fast, his head rolling back to give you a clear view of his fucked out features. He was tired, absolutely drained from your little moment, and such was exhibited on his lax frame. Your orgasm rolls around right after, stomach clenching. Despite the shock of pleasure that swallows you up, you can’t help the endeared smile that takes over your features at the sight beneath you as you cum.

“So proud of you,” you murmur afterwards, cupping his face in your hands to deliver a brigade of kisses against his skin. He groans in faux annoyance, letting you turn him this way and that as you shower him in affection. “My baby did so well today.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he huffs, though the ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. “What’s there to eat?”

You snort, pushing yourself off of him. You wiggle your panties and dress back into place, tossing him his discarded shirt as you make toward the noodles. They’ve probably gone cold by now, neglected in favor of fucking like two bunnies in heat. Still, you give them a poke. Just as you’d predicted, they’re way too cold to be edible, a fact which greatly saddens Namjoon.

You weren’t having any of that, especially not on his birthday (it was 12:49 now, but technically, it’s still his birthday until he goes to sleep), which is why you make him pack everything up right away. “I’ll heat them up at my place,” you assure him, patting his bum as he whines at the sudden relocation. He’s tugging his zip-up on, the collar tugged all the way up for him to hide the lower half of his face behind.

It doesn’t stop you from pressing a kiss over where you know his mouth is.

“Come on,” you grin, waiting for him to lock up his studio. He falls into step beside you, grudgingly throwing a hand around your shoulders. You beam up at him, leaning onto your toes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll make you cry at my place,” you promise, relishing in the dark flush that floods the apples of his cheeks.

Copyright © July 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[yayeetsonny]

Keeping Secrets~USWNT x Baby Reader

Prompt: Team finds out baby r has epilepsy.

Requested by: @khiaraaa-in-spacee​

TW: Depictions of seizures and mentions of them.

Y/N PRO//

My name is Y/N L/N and I have epilepsy. Having epilepsy is hard because a lot of people assume that there is just the one kind, where a person suddenly falls to the ground and experiences uncontrollable muscle movement. While that is a common form that it can take there are several other types. Like mine, I experience Typical absence seizures, this means that when I am experiencing one I stop whatever it was I was doing and it can look like I’m frozen or zoning out, my eyelids flutter quite a bit and my ams jerk slightly sometimes too. When these happen I don’t realize it until it’s over.  Most of the time I have several in a row so when everything is over I tend to be a little confused. 

I try not to let it define my life. I’m also a member of the United States Women’s National soccer team. I’m the youngest player on the squad at 15 and the team is over protective to say the least. They tend to overdue it by a lot when we’re on the field, for example if I go down injured at all they swarm me, asking if I’m okay a million times and calling the medical staff over for the tiniest injuries.. Off the field is much the same, they wake me up at the same time every morning because

“Having a routine is important.” 

Christen has told me this a thousand times, doesn’t mean I like being woken up at 5:30 am everyday, off days included. (That is unless I’m sick, then they make me hate naps) Once I’m up they make me get dressed and they carry me down to the dining hall where all the food is set up. When they first started doing this I protested being carried, citing that I was a big girl and I had two legs that worked perfectly fine but, after a look from Ali and Ashlyn I just let it happen. The veterans of the team also stormed the coaching staff’s office demanding that they find a way to make breakfast available for me (and them) when I wake up. They didn’t do this to be snobby or high maintenance they say its because

“If don’t eat right away in the morning, you get grouchy.” 

I don’t, but they think I do so I just let them have it and eat by 6 everyday. 

I haven’t told the team that I have epilepsy because I don’t want to scare them or freak them out. It’s not that I’m ashamed of it or anything it’s just that I don’t want them to feel like they have to worry about me even more than they already do.

“Hey Y/N! You in there?” Kelley asks appearing out of nowhere.

“What? Oh, sorry what’s up?”

“We just wanted to see if you wanted to go to the coffee shop around the corner with us.” 

She pointed to nearly half the team, including all the vets who were looking at me with concern written all over their faces.

“I think I’ll stay here, thanks anyways.”

“Are you sure? You love that place.” Kelley said frowning.

She was right, I had never turned down going there, especially with her. I wasn’t going to tell her this but I had forgot to take my seizure medicine so I need to stay back to take it before I forgot.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay, well, we’ll bring you something back then.” 

“Y/N?” Christen grabbed my hand before I could start walking to the elevators to go back to my room.

“Yeah Chris?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I just wanna make sure. You know, me and the other veterans wouldn’t mind staying with you. We could hang here and watch movies or play board games or if you want we could all lay down and nap together, I know how much you love the “Cuddle puddle” we create.”

“I’m okay, really. Go have fun with the others. I think I’m just gonna go read my book in my room.”

“Okay, see you later.”

She gave me a hug before leaving, I watched as she explained what we talked about to the other vets and I saw several of them turn back to look at me. I shrugged at them before turning on my heel and heading back to my room. 

Once there, I took my medicine out of its hiding place, making sure to take the right dosage I then put it back and make sure it would stay hidden. I had to hide it because the girls always double check my bag before we leave any where we’ve stayed to make sure I have all my stuff. It’s nice sometimes but it also can get a little annoying.

There was a sudden knock at my door making me jump a little. Who could that be? The players who stayed behind were those that loved to nap and or they didn’t like coffee and almost all of them needed to have there alone time so getting a visitor is rare. After looking through the peephole I saw it was my roommate and best friend Morgan.

“Hey Moe! I thought you went with the others?” I said as I let her in.

“I did but I forgot my sunglasses. Have you seen them?”

“Um, I think you left them on the bathroom sink.”

“Oh that’s right! Okay, well got ‘em! See you later.”

“See you.” 

After she left I was able to go back to reading my book, It was pretty peaceful and I had almost made it half way through when I stopped. The book fell out of my hands and onto the floor with a loud thud. 

My eyelids fluttered and my fingers twitched and then just like that it was over. They only last 10-20 seconds, which isn’t long at all but for me it often feels like hours before I am aware of my surroundings again. Okay, there’s one. Am I going to have more?

My medicine has reduced them but it doesn’t stop them completely and some days it doesn’t work at all. I would go to a doctor to fix the prescription but since I can’t drive and the girls don’t know I just leave it be. 

“Oh boy, today is gonna be a long day.” I say to no one but myself before I slowly stand up and go to the sink to splash water on my face. 

We have practice in 45 minutes and I know the girls will want me to be ready a few minutes early. After I take my time changing into my gear and double checking that I do indeed look okay I make my way down to the lobby so that I can get on the bus before everyone else. I choose to sit all the way in the back and put my earbuds in so they know I don’t want to be bothered. But it seems Megan didn’t get the memo because she sits down right next to me and yanks the earbud out of my ear, putting it in her own.

“Hey kid, where you been? We brought back your favorite drink but you weren’t in your room.”

“I’ve been here.” I say shortly

“Okay?”

“Sorry I’m just tired.”

“You should’ve taken a nap before practice Y/N. What have we told you about that?”

“That I get grouchy without one, I know.”

“Do you?” 

“Yes! I’m sorry, okay? I forgot, I’ll take one when we get back.”

“I’ll be having a discussion with Carli, Chris, Alex, and the others about what we can do to help you remember.” She said leaving no room for argument.

Ugh, I hate when they have “Veteran meetings” about me. After they’ve decided something, they sit me down and all crowd around me so that if I get upset, they can comfort me. 98% of the time whatever they tell me isn’t a big deal, like a curfew. I can deal with that or even an early bedtime when I get sick or injured. But I draw the line on some things.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me Y/N.”

“Whatever.”

“Are we gonna have to talk about your attitude too?” 

“No. Sorry.”

“Mhm, what I thought.”

We finally arrived at the training facility we were practicing at this camp before our up coming international friendlies, and I grabbed my stuff and ran off the bus so I wouldn’t have to deal with Megan giving me the look anymore. 

“Y/N! Walk please!” I heard Alex shout from behind me but I ignored her.

Ali PRO//

“Okay is it just me or she acting weird?” I asked, concerned for our youngest teammate 

“Mmm, she’s just in a mood.” Megan said

“Okay, but she knows how we feel about her running anywhere that’s not the field, she’s the clumsiest kid we know. Plus, she always listens to me.” Alex said

She made a good point, she listened to all of us 9 times out of 10, some more than others but still. We all just stood there, letting the young players off first while we continued discussing our kid’s weird behavior.

“Hey guys?” 

“Yeah Ash?”

“What’s this?”

She held up a pill bottle that none of us had seen before. On it in big bold letters, was the name Y/N L/N and it was a medicine called Ethosuximide with the name (Zarontin) in parentheses. What the hell?

“What is that and why does she have it?” Christen asked angrily.

“I don’t know but I’m gonna find out right now.” Ashlyn said as she stomped off the bus.

“Ash, Ash hold on!” 

I stood in front of her trying to get her to stop walking.

“Why?”

“I know you, you aren’t going to let her explain and you’ll jump to conclusions.”

“What’s there to explain Ali? None of us have ever seen her take pills before and we all know she doesn’t have any medical conditions. We made Vlatko give us her file remember?”

“Yes but you should still let her explain.”

Ashyln was growing more upset and I was having a hard time keeping her at bay. As we got closer to the locker room the players who were already on the field or heading out attention was drawn to our argument. 

“Ash, cool it. Young ones in the vicinity.” Alex said referring to the “youngins” as Becky called them.

“I don’t care. I’m talking to her right now.”

There was nothing me, Alex or any of the other veterans could do to stop her from storming into the locker room.

“Y/N Y/M L/N!”

She came over to the front of the room quickly, startled and looking slightly terrified. She had yet to spot the pill bottle Ashyln was holding behind her back.

“Yeah Ash? What’s up?”

“ “What’s up?” she says. What’s up? That’s all you have to say?” Ashlyn had a bite to her tone that made me shiver. She can be mad intimidating when she wants to be. 

“Yes?”

“What’s up Y/N, is this.” 

As soon as she saw what she was holding all the color drained from Y/N’s face and I was afraid  she might faint. 

“Y/N… Sweetie, you’re okay. We’re just a little worried about you.” Chris said stepping forward and blocking her view of Ashlyn’s “Mean face” 

She tried to reach for Y/N but she turned away from her and made a move to leave.

“Uh you know, I really should get out on the field with the others. See you guys out there!”

Alex grabbed her around the waist and held her in her arms tightly so she couldn’t go anywhere. She tried to get her to let go but gave up when she realized Alex was too strong.

“Shhh, deep breaths. You’re okay. It’s just us. It’s okay.” Alex cooed softly in her ear.

I could tell that she was scared and was trying not to let her walls down.

“It-it’s not anything bad I swear!” 

“Really, then what is it?” 

“It’s just… can we just talk about it later? Please.”

“No, what is this and why do you have it?” 

“I- Please just let me go practice.”

“Y/N…”

“I have epilepsy, okay?! There, can I go practice please?”

She freed herself from Alex and ran out onto the field. We all chased after her and Christen tried to catch her but she was saved by the whistle.

“Ladies! Let’s go, stop messing around and get to work!” Dawn yelled, we knew it was directed at us.

After that we had no choice but to let it go and practice. We did the usual, stretching and warm up and then position group training, individual for some and scrimmages to end the session. Were half way through a scrimmage whenI noticed Y/N stop moving. It was like she was frozen, she wasn’t moving except for her arms that were jerking slightly and I could see her eyelids fluttering. She must be having a seizure. I thought. I rushed over to her stopping practice and tried everything to get her to snap out of it. Many of our teammates also tried to no avail and everyone was gathered around her unsure of what to do.

“Okay let’s give her some space.” Ashlyn said

I stayed close in case I had to prevent her from falling and hitting her head or needed to do anything else to help her.

She continued to seize, each one only lasted 10 seconds but she had 5 in a row and when those had stopped she only came to for a few seconds before she started to experience a second wave. In total she was unresponsive for almost a minute and half straight. Christen had put her arms on her shoulders, trying to let her know she was there.

“Y/N, it’s okay. We’re here. You’re okay.”

“What do we do?”

“We just have to let her know we’re here.”

“What’s going on? Is she okay?”

Several of the younger players looked scared and unsure of what to do, so Tobin and Megan took them away from where Y/N was and tried to reassure them she was gonna be okay.

Y/N PRO//

Everything finally started to come back into focus and at this point I had been moved to the ground and I was sitting in Chris’s lap as she held me. When I was fully out of the state I had been in I started to try to push her away, I was disoriented and confused and I didn’t remember what I was doing here.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. Y/N you’re safe, it’s okay.” Becky said as I settled down and the rest of the team begin trying to help me.

Chris held me the whole time, cooing in my ear and trying to keep me calm. Everything was super loud and my mind and body had gone into sensory overload trying to come back to practice. When I realized what happened and I was able, I pushed my way out of Christen’s arms, and ran back to the locker room. After that I ignored everyone and their questions about what was going on. I was the first back on the bus and had planned to continue ignoring everyone. The Vets of the team had other ideas however and put an end to it quickly.

“You feeling better little one?”

“Yeah Al, I am.”

“That was really scary.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about babe. But can I ask you something?” Ali said

“Sure, shoot.”

“Did you take your medicine today?”

“Yeah, I did it just doesn’t work well.” I said timidly

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the right dosage, it just doesn’t work well enough most of the time.”

“Why didn’t you get it adjusted?”

“I didn’t want anyone to find out about it.”

“That’s dangerous, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know you were scared. We’ll take you to get it adjusted as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.”

When we got back to the hotel I dropped off my stuff and decided to go for a walk. I needed to think about some things, and I knew the girls wanted to have a more in depth talk about what happened but I wasn’t ready. Eventually though I made my way back to the room and when I opened the door my roommate was there to greet me.

“Hey babe! You came back to me!’ Moe said dramatically as I entered our room.

“I’ll always come back to you, baby.” I said jokingly

“You better. My life is so boring without you!”

“I am the life of the party I’ve been told.”

“Ha ha, If anyone is the life of the party its Crystal. Girl can dance.”

“Definitely.”

“Have you talked to the others since we got back?”

“Uhh... no. I’m sorta avoiding them.” I said rubbing the back of my neck.

“You know that they’ll want to talk to you about it eventually right? I’m sure they’re worried about you.”

I was unsure of what to do because I didn’t really want to talk to them about it but I knew I had to. After another hour of avoiding it, I got up and made my way to Alex’s room. I knocked on the door timidly and waited for it to open.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just was wondering if I could talk to you all?” I said as I saw almost all the older players in her room.

“Of course.”

We got to talking about what happened and I told them about the condition I had and when it first appeared and all the while Alex held me in her lap, cooing in my ear when I would start to get emotional and the others sat around us doing there best to let me know they were there.

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” Ashlyn asked 

“I was just afraid.”

“You don’t ever have to be afraid to tell us these things. I’m sorry you felt the need to hide it from us.” JJ said.

“I know today was scary for everyone. I think I should tell the whole team everything soon.”

“Are you sure? You shouldn’t feel like you have to, if you’re not ready that’s okay too.”

“I am, it’s okay. Will you guys be there?”

“Of course, always.”

“I love you guys.”

“We love you too.”

I knew that some of them were still a little hurt that I hadn’t told them sooner or they felt bad because they weren’t able to protect me but I knew we would be okay.

we agreed to be more honest with each other going forward and When it came time for me to tell the entire team the older players were there to support me and help me explain everything. They were all super supportive and assured me that they didn’t see me any differently.

After our heart to heart we decided to do some much needed team bonding.

Rose showed me a Tick tok of a bulldog trying to reach a cake that was just out of its reach and failing (or succeeding) spectacularly as it splattered in the floor.

“Wilma would totally do this!” I said laughing at the thought of Rose’s dog doing something similar.

“She totally would but I would give her a hand.” Rose giggled.

Kelley succeeded in putting a cup on her head with only her feet and I was in awe of her flexibility. I attempted to do the same but I failed miserably and pouted as everyone laughed at me.

“Good try kid. You’ll get it eventually.” Kel said.

We ended up playing cup pong (the clean version), Jenga, Sorry, Truth or Dare, and twister. We also tried playing hide and seek through out the hotel but we got in trouble with the managerial staff and almost got the whole team kicked out. Let’s just say that Vlatko was not too pleased… 

Sam, Rose, Sonnett, Lindsey and Mal choreographed a new dance and performed it for everyone. We all watched for over an hour as these knuckleheads tried to get it all down perfectly.

“Oh my god you guys, try again tomorrow when you actually know the dance.” Tobin said exasperated

“No, no we can do this. Right guys?” 

“Yes we can.”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Just give us a minute.”

“We got this.”

We watched on as they tried and failed to prove that they had it, but we all gave them an A+ for effort anyways.

“We would have gotten it, if you guys had just been patient enough.” Sam grumbled.

“We watched for over an hour, you know this team, they can’t sit still forever.” I giggled.

“I guess you’ve got a point.” Sam chuckled.

“Hey! We’re not that bad at sitting still.” Kelley protested.

“Uh, yeah Kel. We are.”

The whole team giggled at that and agreed that together asking us to sit still for long periods was useless.

After that we made pies and cupcakes and they were actually really good, but things took a turn when I decided to smash Ali’s face in a pie. She then chased me down the hall trying to get me back.

“Y/N, get back here!”

“Becky! Save me!”

“No way kid. Not trying to get punched.” She said before she closed her door.

“Traitor!” I yelled as I continued to run from a pissed off Ali Krieger. 

She eventually caught up to me and attacked me with kisses and tickles. I ended up covered head to toe in pie filling after she got hers all over me and then found another one and got revenge.

“Aw man, you got me.” I said as I giggled wildly as she tickled me some more.

“This whole team loves you so much. You know that right?” Alex would later tell me that night as we all snuggled on the two beds in the room I shared with Morgan. 

“Yeah, I know. I love you guys too.” 

They drive me nuts with the constant hovering and weird, silly rules they make me follow but I am so grateful to have them in my life and to have such an amazing group of friends who love and support me no matter what. Me and my 23 best friends are family for life and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

//

THE END

If I got anything wrong, I’m so sorry. I did the best research that I could. Sorry for any mistakes.

-N

[wickedobsessed101]

"Sewing It Up" Oneshot #8: Birthdays, Bobbins, & Bubbles

The full shop version (with Elphaba, Fiyero, and Galinda) will be up either later tonight or tomorrow, but here, it mostly focuses on my OCs. But the canon gang makes a special, fun cameo here. Art by @abbythegatekeeper (@the-oc-workshop)

~~~

Geri smiled at the sunny-side-up eggs placed perfectly on the plate with a double bacon smile. He was very proud of his work, and couldn’t wait to surprise his wife.

“That smells wonderful.”

He turned, seeing his wife approaching. “Morning. You’re up early.”

Her eyebrow quirked as she reached into the cupboard and searched for her mug. “You don’t sound happy about that.”

“It’s just…”

“Geri, it’s early, I have a busy day today, and I need coffee before Nyris wakes up.”

“I wanted to surprise you for your birthday. I made sunny-side-up eggs and bacon. I had a plan.”

She paused in her coffee brewing. “Oh. Thank you, honey.” She pulled him into a kiss, smiling against his lips. Humoring him, she sat at the table.

“This was supposed to be breakfast in bed.” He still set the plate in front of her with a kiss. “Eggs are at ten and two, and the smiley-bacon at six.”

Her fingers grazed over the curved bacon. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You want your usual coffee fixings?”

“Please.”

The couple was able to eat quickly, with Villy going over her packed schedule for the day. Winter was busy with custom orders, as people got ready for spring and summer events. As busy as they were, Villy made sure to never overbook, knowing she’d regret biting off more than she could chew. She and Elphaba worked fast, and knew when they would get overwhelmed.

“Are you used to being this busy?” Geri asked, finishing his coffee.

“Yes, but ever since our reopening, we’ve gotten busier. Elphaba and I have it under control. I’ll probably have to stay late, so I’ll take the bus home.”

“Mmm. I’m taking Nyris to her ballet class tonight, so it works out.”

“I’ll go wake her, before we end up late,” Villy said, standing and going over to her husband, wrapping her arms around him from behind. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome, Dovey.”

Nyris gave her stepmother an enthusiastic birthday hug. “Papa and I are picking up your birthday gift today. He said it’s ready, but I can’t tell you what it is, ‘cause it’s a surprise.”

Villy chuckled as she helped her with her thick tights. “I suppose I can wait until tonight.”

“Can I brush your hair?”

“We’re in a hurry, Jellybean.”

“I can be quick and gentle. I promise.”

Sighing, she nodded and Nyris got the hairbrush. The two took their usual spots on the bed and Nyris gently ran the soft bristles through Villy’s copper hair.

“You should wear your hair down. It’s pretty.”

“I don’t like wearing it down when I work. It gets in my face.”

Nyris pouted. “But you look pretty!”

“Thank you, but Elphaba and I have a busy day today. I can’t have my hair getting in the way.”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, then ran over to her basket of hair accessories. “You can wear my yellow ribbon.” She fixed her hair into a low ponytail and tied the ribbon around the hair tie, letting the ends fall instead of tying it into a bow.

“Thank you, Jellybean,” Villy smiled, turning and pulling her into a hug.

Ten minutes later, the two came back downstairs, Nyris dressed in her uniform and her hair in pigtails with green ribbons. All bundled up in their winter gear, the family headed out. Once they got to the school, Villy climbed out and walked Nyris inside.

“Are you alright, Nyris?” Villy asked, hearing Nyris huffing.

“I’m creating clouds.”

“What?”

She exhaled again. “I can see my breath in front of my face. It’s cool!” She snuggled closer, allowing Villy to help shield her from the cold, February wind.

“Have a nice day, Jellybean,” Villy said, giving her daughter a hug at the corner of the main hallway.

“Bye, Mimsey. Are you taking me to my ballet class today?”

“No. I have to stay in the shop tonight. Papa’s taking you. You can give me my birthday present tonight.”

“Okay.” She gave her a kiss and skipped away, calling out to one of her friends.

The seamstress retraced her steps, and her husband met her at the door.

“Have a nice day, Dovey,” Geri said as the car stopped directly in front of the shop.

“Thank you, Geri. I’ll see you tonight.” She smiled against his lips and slipped out, taking a few steps until her cane hit the door. The door was unlocked, so Elphaba was already there, and she heard the car pull away as the door closed behind her. “Morning, Elphaba.”

Silence answered her. Perhaps she ran upstairs or to the bathroom. The dressmaker started towards her office, but soft voices from the back startled her. She froze and called for her assistant again. This time, instead of her expected answer, she heard a loud pop and yelped, dropping her cane and faintly aware of it rolling away as she jumped away, her back colliding with the door. Her eyes widened and she balled the sides of her coat in her fists.

“Miss Villy…” Elphaba finally addressed her. “You’re early.”

She turned, eyes narrowed. “What in Oz’s name was that?!”

Elphaba softened at the dressmaker’s alarmed tone. “It was a surprise.”

“Believe me, I’m thoroughly surprised, and not in a good way.”

She stepped towards her, but paused when Villy moved away, squeezing her gloved fingers. “I’m sorry. Nothing’s wrong, and I’m fine.”

“Yes, well…” She coughed, her mouth dry as she licked her lips. “Not even the biggest cup of coffee could wake me up this effectively.” She took a breath. “I heard other voices. Did you have the radio on?”

“No. Yero and Glin are here.”

“Why? Aren’t you about to start your mid-winter break?”

“It starts tomorrow, but they’re staying on campus, and agreed to come by and help.”

“Help with what? Elphaba, it’s too early to deal with your vagueness.”

“Help decorate your office for your birthday.”

As it slowly sunk in, Villy relaxed as her heart rate finally returned to normal. “Oh.”

She picked up her cane and handed it to her. “This isn’t how I wanted to start your special day.”

“Did you finish? I can wait out here if you want more time. I’m early, after all.”

“No, we’re done,” a new voice said from the back doorway.

Elphaba turned to see Fiyero coming out, dragging a less-than-happy Galinda behind him. “We are?”

He nodded, and Galinda yanked her hand away. “Happy birthday, Miss Villy.”

“Thank you, Fiyero. Galinda,” the dressmaker smiled, accepting hugs from him and the bubbly blonde, before being ushered to her office. She pocketed her gloves, and removed her coat and hat, hanging them on the coat rack, along with her now-folded cane. “What did you do in here?”

“We made your door a present!” Galinda giggled.

Villy reached out her hand, running her fingers over the smooth wrapping paper, finding the bow in the center. “What color is it?”

“Dark blue, almost black, with pale yellow stars. It looks like a night sky.”

“And the ribbon?”

“Royal purple. And we made you a sign!”

“I made you a sign,” Fiyero corrected, glancing at the blonde and leading Villy over to the right wall where the sign hung.

Her hands glided over the relief lettering. She figured it said ‘Happy 38th birthday, Miss Villy’ after only three letters, but was enjoying the textured paint. “Thank you, Fiyero. I still think you could have pulled off being an art minor.”

“Perhaps, but my talents lie elsewhere.”

She thought that innocent comment meant he had chosen a different minor, but the innuendo made itself clear when Elphaba, now standing next to the prince, made a noise in the back of her throat. She whipped around towards them. “You two, separate.”

“… ‘Kay,” came Fiyero’s distracted response.

“But the lights are on,” Elphaba faux-whined.

Villy’s eyes narrowed, but twinkling from above grabbed her attention, her brain forcing her eyes to stare at the visible, slowly moving lights. “Wait, what’s that smell?” she frowned, wrinkling her nose.

“See… what had happened was… Glin –“

“I made magic bubbles!” the blonde grinned cheekily. “They’re up on the ceiling.” Instead of bubbly beams, she was met with blank stares from all three third parties. “Hey, it’s a big improvement from last time!”

“Last time?” Villy asked, her gaze fixated on the ceiling as the light from the windows reflected off the bubbles. It wasn’t as bright as the balloons would have been, but it still held her attention.

“She exploded my lunch. Made bits of my sandwich fly all over the place. Yero walked by and called me a ‘lettuce head’.” The green girl set a pointed look upon her best friend, pointing at the bubble-covered ceiling.

“She got carried away,” Fiyero shrugged.

She sighed. “We forgot the glitter balloons, so we decided to improvise. It was successful, ‘til she got carried away and tried to see how big she could make the balloon before it popped. That was the loud noise you heard.”

“I’m really good at the bubble spell. Do you think that if I created a bubble big enough, I could float around Oz in it?” Galinda asked thoughtfully.

Elphaba rolled her eyes. “Sure. And I’ll enchant a broom to fly.”

“And I’ll leave my feet safely on the ground,” Fiyero nodded confidently.

“So will I,” Villy agreed.

The blonde confidently lifted her chin. “I could do it!”

“I don’t doubt you, but floating and flying aren’t my ideal forms of transportation,” the dressmaker said, giving the blonde a comforting arm rub. “Thank you, all three of you. I love this surprise. I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

“Well, it was too late to rent out the park again, and organize a ticker-tape parade, and when you factor in that –“

“Don’t you have an early shift at Ozbucks this morning?” Elphaba interrupted.

She made a face at being cut off, but conceded. “Yes, so I suppose I should get going now. Enjoy your free day.”

“I’m working all day.”

“See you later!” She left with a flitted wave.

“I know you both have a busy day today, so I’ll come back later with lunch,” the prince promised, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Okay. Thank you, Yero,” she replied with a grin, turning in his arms and rising to her toes. Pressing her lips against his, she wrapped her arms around his neck. They pulled away, muttering soft declarations of love against each other’s lips.

Villy realized the two had never separated and groped for her assistant, grabbed her arm, and pulled the two apart. “Bye, Fiyero,” she sing-songed, fighting a smirk and clutching Elphaba’s arm as she pulled her closer.

Both their faces heated and the prince muttered a quick ‘goodbye’, hurrying out.

“I’ll come later on my birthday to give you time to decorate the whole store," Elphaba smirked.

“I’ll be sure to use lots of streamers and balloons.” Villy waited ‘til she heard the shop door close before releasing Elphaba’s arm. “Socialite season starts in three weeks. And we have a few initial consultations and measurings today.”

“You have my full attention for the next eight days. That’s enough time to get most of them done.”

“I’m not locking you in a sweatshop to work on party dresses all day with no break.”

“Minor details,” she shrugged with a dismissive wave and hum, going about her morning chores. Once the shop opened, they were busy until lunch, the adrenaline pumping through their veins keeping them going.

~~~

At the end of the long day, Villy tiredly made her way down the street from the bus stop. Though busy, it wasn’t bad, but she wanted nothing more than to relax in bed.

She searched for the landmark metal lamp post that indicated the gate was on the right. Her cane hit something in front of her and upon further investigation, realized it was a large recycling bin. She maneuvered around it and a few steps later, there was another one. Her cane swept to her left and hit the lamp post. Turning, she found the gate and felt around with her free hand for the latch. Finding it, she unlocked it and stepped through, closed it behind her, and walked up the path leading to the front door.

She felt for the keyhole and fiddled with her key, her tiredness trying to overcome her. She unlocked the door and stepped in, folding and hanging her cane, and shedding her outerwear. She pulled out the hair tie and ribbon, relieving some of the tension and her headache faded slightly as she ran her hand through her hair.

“Hi, Mimsey!”

She looked down as a small force collided with her side, and short arms wrapped around her. “Hi, Nyris.” She lifted the little girl into her arms and kissed her cheek. “How was school?”

“Fun. We played soccer in gym class and I got to score a goal.”

“Amazing. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks.”

“Where’s Papa?”

“Downstairs doing his homework. I finished mine, and wanted to wait up here for you.”

“How was ballet class?”

“I loved it! We practiced our jumps and my teacher congratulated me on my perfectly pointed toes. Do you want your birthday present now?”

The dressmaker had forgotten about the promised gift. “Yes, please.”

Nyris giggled and wiggled out of her arms. “It’s on the table in the living room!”

Villy followed her stepdaughter and sat on the sofa, reaching out her hands. Her fingers bumped against a large box and she carefully tore the wrapping paper off. She ran her hands over the thin cardboard. She suspected there was a picture of whatever was inside on the box, and she reached in. She felt something soft and circular and reached in, feeling the base. She carefully pulled it out. “Is this a lamp?”

“Uh-huh!”

She felt the base. “It is a heart?”

“Nope.”

“A teardrop?”

“Nuh-uh! It’s my favorite fruit.”

The little girl had a new favorite fruit every few weeks, so she had to really think about which one it was. “A… strawberry?”

“Yeah! It’s painted red with the little black seeds. You can put it on your night table. I knew you like strawberries, too I picked it out myself.”

She set it on the table and pulled Nyris into her lap. “Thank you, Jellybean. I love strawberries, and I love this special present.”

Nyris rested her head on her shoulder and snuggled closer. “You’re welcome, Mimsey. Happy birthday.”

[gothpanda]

Not So Different (M*A*S*H)

DESCRIPTION: Trapper becomes jealous of the new Major that replaced Frank.

SHIP: Hawkeye x Trapper

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

A/N: I posted this on Ao3 and thought ‘what the hell!”

WARNINGS: none

Clink. Hawkeye and Trapper smiled at each other from the front of their amateur distillery, sipping on the fresh gin that highly resembled if the liquor was bought back home. Trapper let out a relaxed sigh as he sat down on the wooden stool by his cot, the smile staying on his lips when he saw a completely empty corner in The Swamp. Only a cot and a desk ready for someone else to use, hopefully for no one at all as Hawkeye had an idea already in his mind.

“No more whining! No more stupid threats! And best of all I don’t have to waste my precious time looking at Ferret Face,” Trapper exclaimed, kicking his feet up on top of a crate. Hawkeye chuckled alongside Trapper, sitting right beside him as they sipped on their martinis. “Do you think Hot Lips will be P.O’d about Frank leaving when she gets back?”

Hawkeye starred out in thought, pursing out his lips. “Well, he didn’t call. Or leave a note. And he took the pearl necklace from her tent. So my prognosis would be ‘oh hell yes’ with a high level of colorful words,” Hawkeye said, grinning mischievously at Trapper.

“But of course she’ll just play it off as if nothing was between them because they were ‘oh so secretive’,” Trapper teased, tossing in a piece of gum to chew on.

“You’d think Margaret would’ve convinced Frank to quit the charade after asking me about my lack of flirtation with the nurses,” Hawkeye said, sipping on his martini, Trapper popping a bubble of strawberry gum.

“Nah Frank’s too stubborn and birdbrained to ever think about relaxing in this place. He has a ‘reputation’ to uphold,” Trapper said in a mocking tone.

Hawkeye stood up from the chair they had, walking over to sit on Trapper's cot with a certain look of remorse as he sipped his martini. He pursed his lips out, staring off ahead of him. Trapper was quick to notice Hawkeye's thoughts turning in his mind like a wheel, playfully kicking his foot with his own. He chuckled when Hawk jumped slightly, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “What’s with the sour face?”

“It’s not a sour face, it’s my thinking face. I figured you’d know by now. I kind of feel bad for Margaret about Frank's ditching. Don’t you?”

Trapper shrugged, “It’s Frank so I don’t feel anything for the doofus,” Hawkeye glaring at him, which made Trapper change his attitude for a moment. “Okay yeah what Frank did was pretty cruddy but Hot Lips isn’t going to show anything to anyone. At least maybe to you,”

“If you did that to me, I’d get Klinger’s uncle a bus pass to Boston,” Hawkeye warned with the best of his ability to sound intimidating, Trapper smiling at Hawkeye as he sat beside him. Trapper swung an arm around Hawk, nuzzling him closer to his side, Hawkeye leaning on the vacant shoulder.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head-,”

“Oh, you think I’m pretty?” Hawkeye interrupted, raising his eyebrows to Trapper, making him roll his eyes with a hint of affection.

“Yeah yeah. As I was saying, I wouldn’t just leave you hanging after being together for this long. What kind of man would I be?!”

“A ferret face! That’s the kind of man you would be, and we both know we don’t need any more of those! Please I couldn’t handle it!” Hawkeyes exclaims, martini glass in the air, putting on his best general impersonation. Trapper only chuckled at Hawkeye, enjoying the relaxation that was given. It had been slow in the 4077 with no wounded flying in on choppers or coming in on ambulances. Hawkeye taking this time to write to his father while Trapper did the same, but mainly asking Louise to tell his daughters how much he loves them. When Frank Burns finally got his orders to head back stateside, the whole camp celebrated with Hawkeye and Trapper as the main hostess for the occasion. Unfortunately- unless you were Frank- Margaret was on her three day R&R pass that she rarely took, Henry almost begging her to take it since she highly deserved it. If Hawkeye didn’t have a soft spot for Margaret in this situation, he’d be placing bets with everyone on her reaction, but alas he’s a man with a heart.

Attention! Attention! Captain Pierce and Captain McIntyre report to Colonel Blake’s office! Captain Pierce and Captain McIntyre report to Colonel Blake’s office! On the double!

Both Hawkeye and Trapper rolled their eyes in unison, groaning as they were both relaxed in Trapper’s cot. Hawkeye fell on his side on the cot, pretending he was asleep, hoping it would stall walking the few feet to Henry’s office.

“You know every time that speaker comes on I feel like I’m in grammar school,” Trapper complained, setting his glass down on the still as he got on his feet. Trapper looked down at the ‘sleeping’ Hawkeye, smirking at him. He reached for the man’s hand and laced their fingers, pulling Hawk’s arm only to tug his body an inch.

“Tell Henry I’m dead. I don’t want him to give any eulogies at my funeral. Only you and dad are allowed to speak,”

“Come on, Hawk. Maybe if we get whatever Henry wants out of the way, we can have fun before the poker game tonight,” Trapper coined to Hawkeye, smiling right as Hawkeye jumped on his feet, fixing his khaki jacket.

“Onward Dr. Trapper!” Hawkeye said, gripping onto Trapper's hand as he led the way out of The Swamp in high gear, bursting out the tent. Trapper tugged behind, knowing no one would give a second look if the two were holding hands out in daylight.

*

“Alright, General, I’ll make sure to have my best men for the job. Okay. Okay. Goodbye now. Radar! Where are Pierce and McIntyre-” Henry yelled outright as Radar came front to his desk, Hawkeye and Trapper in tow.

“Captain Pierce and Captain McIntyre, sir,” Radar reported looking right at his clipboard. Henry could never figure out the way Radar could sense things so fast as if he was reading everyone's mind. Hawkeye sat perched up on the edge of Henry’s desk, Trapper sitting beside him with his feet kicked up. “Anything else, Colonel Blake?” Radar asked, moving beside the Colonel.

“No, that is all Radar. Thank you,” Henry said, twirling a pen in his hands. “Pierce, why can’t you sit in a chair for once?”

“It’s not in my programming,” Hawkeye said, crossing his leg over the other to get more comfortable on the desk.

“Henry, why did you oh so disturb our relaxation time?” Trapper asked, popping his gum.

“I need you two to pick up Frank’s replacement tomorrow afternoon at Kimpo Air Base. And please just go to the Air Base and come back, no funny business,” Henry ordered in a plea. Hawkeye and Trapper exchanged looks of annoyance at the idea of a replacement Frank, hoping to have a few more days of no R.A wanna-be majors.

“Why can’t Radar go? What if wounded come while we’re away? Or worse what if I get my discharge while we’re gone?” Hawkeye asks.

“I ordered Radar to go pick up Major Houlihan from the airport. Unless you two want to explain to Margaret why Frank didn’t pick her up,” Henry said smiling at the captains who only looked at each other, almost communicating in silence.

“I already have the hard job, sirs. It shouldn’t be bad to pick up the new Major,” Radar explained with the usual sheepish smile he had.

“What’s this new major like? If he’s a Frank I’m leaving him on the side of the road,” Trapper asks.  

“Awe come on, Trap, have a heart. If he’s anything like Frank it’s entertainment for the both of us once again,” Hawkeye said with a smile. From the top of a whole bunch of other files, Henry gave Hawkeye the new ‘Frank’s’ file, reading off the basic facts about him.

“Young. 6’3. Graduated from Stanford with a fraternity background. Looks like a blonde in his photo. Major Hunnicutt, I might be in love with you,” Hawkeye teased, Trapper cocking his head up at Hawk from the last of his words.

“Cool it, Pierce. Tomorrow at 12 o’clock sharp you two will pick up Major Hunnicutt. Is that understood?” Henry asked, placing a cigar between his lips.

“Sir yes sir!” Hawkeye yelled out, jumping off Henry’s desk with his version of a salute, his right hand close to face as if he were waving. Henry shook his head at Hawkeye as he stood up from his seat, walking out of his office, Radar following the Colonel.

“Thank you!” Henry said from the far distance. Trapper yanked the file out of Hawkeye’s hands, standing right next to him as they always did. Hawkeye pressed his chin on Trapper's shoulder, wrapping an arm loosely on the man’s waist. Trapper read along with the new man’s file, seeing how much of a better surgeon he sounded compared to Frank. Hopefully, this would mean no more needing to worry if someone was bringing the assembly line down. The meatball surgery they all did was something Trapper and Hawk was used to, but maybe this Major can be used to it as well. Then Trapper stared at the corner photo of Hunnicutt, understanding what Hawkeye was apparently attracted to (or not). Trapper had to admit Hunnicutt was good-looking but of course, wasn’t his type of man, he gravitated towards brunettes who were almost his height. Hunnicutt looked perfect for Hawk, noting his attraction to blondes. Trapper tossed the file onto Henry’s desk, popping his gum in somewhat of an annoyance, Hawk scrunching his brows at him.

“It’s a file, Trap, it won’t hurt you,” Hawkeye teased, Trapper glaring at him, lightly pushing Hawk’s arm off him as they left the office.

“I’m just checking to see if this Major’s even worth coming down here, something you should be doing. Remember chief surgeon?” Trapper said.

“Oh I remember but as chief, I can just tell my men to do all the paperwork for me. Or in my case my man,” Hawkeye said, pinching one of Trapper’s cheeks as they headed back to The Swamp. Trapper only swung an arm around Hawkeye’s shoulders.

“Don’t get cute, you still have a poker game to win for us,” Trapper says opening the thin wooden door for his chief.

*

The next day coming around, Trapper and Hawkeye drove their slowest to the airbase, singing songs outloud of joy and love. Hawkeye keeps his eyes on the road at all times. Trapper smiling at Hawkeye, he couldn’t help but kiss him on the cheek after being a safe distance from the checkpoint.

“Oh, you do love me!” Hawkeye exclaimed, giving off that smile that made Trap blush out of nowhere at times, eyeing him for a moment.

“Shut it and watch the road,” Trapper said, pushing Hawks' face straight back as he chuckled along.

When the two parked in front of the Kimpo Officer’s Club, Hawk looked around the circus of men to find the new Major and put the jeep in park, getting out of the jeep. Trapper jumped out to stretch his back to then see a man in a perfect first-day uniform by a pile of crates. He waved towards the man, pulling Hawkeye by the arm to step their way to Hunnicutt. Major Hunnicutt was the exact opposite of what both Hawk and Trapper thought he’d be. A major with a heart, who has a soft-spoken smile and goofy when saw the opportunity. Hunnicutt saluted the captains like regular army, only laughing when Hawk and Trap gave him their versions. His name is B.J and even though Hawk tried to get him to explain what B.J means, they only received more jokes.

“Seriously what does B.J stand for, Hunnicutt?” Trapper asks as the three walked back to camp from Rose’s after returning in the evening.

“Anything you want, Trapper!” B.J says with a broad smile, Hawkeye laughing along as the new Major stood in the middle of the couple. Trapper only shoved his hands in his khaki jacket, Hawkeye patting B.J on back with a grip on his shoulder.

“Careful B.J or I might take you up on your name being whatever I want,” Hawkeye said, still laughing alongside B.J while Trapper remained silent. B.J was oblivious to Trapper’s quietness towards him, believing this was just how the guy was. Hawkeye was the fun jokester while Trapper tagged along with Hawk for their schemes. It wasn’t entirely wrong but not the full truth either. As the three grew to talking and getting to know each other within weeks of B.J’s arrival, Trapper knew he could not not like the guy. B.J was a good surgeon who only was nervous on his first day of many wounded, but quickly got into high gear the next day. He had a good spirit about him that confused Margaret as to how B.J could ever be a major, noticing how he played along with Hawk well. Trapper and B.J had similar lives back stateside, married with a wife and daughter waiting but never cheated. Hawkeye didn’t quite notice the change of Trapper right away since he played nice, it wasn’t until Trapper stopped his frequent little touches that made Hawk question.

It was movie night at the 4077, almost everyone was in the mess tent turned movie theater. B.J joined Klinger to see his first movie of whatever Radar could get his hands on, leaving Hawk and Trapper alone in The Swamp.

“You’re cheating,” Hawkeye said, pulling out a card from the deck.

“I am not! How would you know if I’m cheating?” Trapper protested, frowning at him.

“Because I taught you everything you know. I also know because out of the three people in this tent, you’re the cheater!”

“Oh sorry I’m not like Major Angel over there who admits to playing bad,” Trapper said, tossing the cards on the makeshift desk of a crate, grabbing his martini glass.

Hawkeye chuckled. “Major Angel? Why that nickname? Certainly, you would take the chance to use his initials for a crappy nickname,”

“Because that’s how he acts. He acts like an angel compared to us… or at least me,”

“He doesn’t act like anything. B.J is just more of a light of sunshine who knows a joke. You should ease up on the guy, he’s nice to be around,” Hawkeye said, shuffling the cards for another game.

“What do you mean ease up on him? I’m good around him,”

Hawkeye shot a look at Trapper that showed nothing could get past him. “Trap the moment we picked him up you’ve given him the cold shoulder. You interacted more with Frank,”

“Well, maybe I’m ‘cold’ to him because you two talk nonstop and don’t let me get a word in. Ever thought about that?” Trapper said, retying the rope on his yellow robe.

“That’s never stopped you before. The main reason why I liked you so much, you never cared to interrupt me,”

“Liked?” Trapper asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hawkeye couldn’t help but roll his eyes all the way to the back of his brain. From the year and a half of being around Trapper, Hawkeye had never seen this side to him on any level. It was strange to Hawk because in his head, he thought B.J would be a great addition to their antics like when Spearchucker was still here.

“Like, Trap. The main reason why I like you so much. Seriously what’s with you?” Hawkeye asked, folding his arms against his chest. “And don’t say nothing because there’s been something up your ass for weeks!”

“I’m fine, Hawk. Let’s just play before he gets back,” Trapper mumbled, dealing cards between them.

Hawkeye shook his head. “If I knew any better I’d say you were jealous,” Hawkeye said under his breath, getting up his seat and walking over to the still. As the words came out of his mouth, Hawkeye turned on his heels with wide eyes and grinned at Trapper, seeing the blush on his cheeks even when looking away from him. “Oh! You are jealous! That’s it!” Hawkeye exclaimed with a sharp finger, sitting back in front of Trapper.

“I am not!” Trapper protested, the blush staining his face.

“Yes, you are! You’re jealous there’s someone else I get along with that isn’t just you! My, my, my, Trapper I never thought I’d see the day!” Hawkeye teased, his shit-eating grin growing bigger.

“I’m not jealous! Why would I need to be jealous of Major Angel over there?” Trapper said, trying his best not to yell.

“Well, then why haven’t you talked to him on your own? Or even stopped giving me little kisses that I like behind my ear? You know it hurts my feelings,” Hawkeye asked with a little pout, still playing along with the teasing.

Trapper shook his head as he gulped the rest of his martini. “So what if I’m jealous? You don’t think Hunnicutt might have a little crush on you?”

“Of course he would, have you seen how gorgeous I am?”

“That’s it! I’m done with this conversation!” Trapper said, rising up from his seat in one motion, grabbing his toiletries to hit the showers. Hawkeye immediately followed Trapper's steps, gracefully stopping him from leaving by his hand on Trapper’s arms. He was able to see how uncomfortable this conversation was for Trapper, telling himself to tone down the jokes.

“Hey hey hey, Trap, I’m only teasing. You don’t need to worry about B.J at all. He’s a married man if you don’t remember,”

“Yeah and so am I if you don’t remember,” Trapper muttered, grabbing the towel that hung from the nearby hook.

“That’s different! He doesn’t seem like the type to cheat on his beloved back stateside,”

Right as Trapper was about to say anything else, the crowds of people from the mess tent spilled out, all going back to their respective tents. “Forget it, Hawk,” Trapper said, leaving The Swamp and headed straight for the showers. Hawkeye slouched his shoulder as he stared at Trapper disappear in front of him. He dropped himself on his cot, covering his eyes with the thin blanket. He let out a long sigh, hearing the door open and close shortly after, peeking up to see B.J.

“Oh, you played cards without me?” B.J asked sitting on his cot and taking off his boots.

“Yeah it’s part of me and Trap’s bonding time,” Hawkeye mumbled, propping himself on one elbow.

“Aw that’s sweet. Peggy and I would play checkers every Friday with wine before she was pregnant with Erin. God, I miss those days,” B.J said with a soft smile as he reminisced of being stateside in California. Hawkeye smiled at the idea of the similarities, knowing Hawk and Trap could very well pass for a married couple if just one of them was a woman.

“You know Beej, did I ever tell you the time Trap and I threatened our old Major who wanted to report a soldier for loving someone of the same-sex?” Hawkeye asks, sitting crisscrossed on the cot.

“No, but sounds like something you two would do. I would’ve been on your guy's side for it all,” B.J said with a smile.

“Really? Why’s that?”

B.J shrugged, “Because everyone should find love in someone. If a man finds that love in another man, who am I to judge?”

Hawkeye smiled at B.J tenderly with affection at the relaxed feeling of the new Major. “Well in that case let me explain a little bit more in-depth on life at the dear old 4077. Or love life,” Hawkeye said, clearing his throat as he tried to inform B.J as fast as he could before Trapper came back from the showers.

*

“You got a minute, Trapper?” B.J asked behind Trapper by The OC’s bar. Trapper looked over his shoulder before finishing the rest of his whiskey, slamming the glass down loud. He sighed out right before coming face to face with Hunnicutt, pursing his lips out as if Trapper were thinking. “We could go outside for a smoke. I was able to get some nice cigars from Peg,”

“Lead the way, Major,” Trapper said, seeing Hawkeye eye both of them from the corner he was at with Margaret. When the two stood off to the side of the aluminum club, Trapper and B.J were silent amongst each other, only taking in puffs of smoke from the cigars. Trapper didn’t know what to say to B.J, only speaking to him in polite regard during the time in the O.R. After last night's spat with Hawk, Trapper just felt an embarrassment in it all, wanting to make himself small.

Finally, B.J cleared his throat to cut the silence. “Look, I wanted to talk because I think there might be a misunderstanding between us,” said B.J.

“Oh yeah? And what is that?” Trapper asked, letting out smoke into the air.

“I’m not in any way interested in Hawkeye, Trap,” B.J blurted out, causing Trapper to look at the man with wide eyes.

For a moment, Trapper thought about playing the clueless game but knew there was no point. B.J wasn’t like Frank by a long shot after all. “He told you?” B.J nodded. “Everything?”

“He said how you two have been together for a while, and you might have gotten jealous after I arrived. I didn’t mean to cause any tension,” B.J said with sincerity in his voice.

“Might is a soft way of putting it,” Trapper mumbled, puffing out another cloud of smoke. “And trust me you didn’t. It’s just, since being here it was always Hawk and me. You getting here and meshing so well, I didn’t know how to take it,”

“Well, I can understand. You found a major who’s almost exactly like you,” B.J said, pressing his lips together as Trapper looked at him in such confusion.  

“You’ve…?” B.J nodded. “But you got married?”

“Because I really did fall in love with Peggy. That’s the difference between you and me, Trap. I played both fields for a while before I met my wife, and when I did, I knew she was the one for me. But that wasn’t for you, was it?” B.J asked, gripping his by the shoulder.

Trapper stepped on the small cigar bud. “I thought it was,” Trapper said, leaning against the cold wall, hands in pocket. “Then you get drafted to a country you’ve never been to and meet a brunette that takes your breath away but isn’t a nurse,”

B.J smiles at Trapper, patting him on the shoulder. “See, we’re not so different after all. I know exactly that feeling. So are we good?” B.J asks, sticking out a hand. Trapper accepts the handshake, pulling B.J in for a quick hug, patting him hard on the back. “Awe, I knew you were a softie!” B.J exclaimed as Trapper pushed him off, laughing as they both walked back into The Officers Club. As the two walked in, Trapper went straight to Hawkeye in the corner, seeing him all by himself.

“Care for a dance?” Trapper asked, extending out a hand with a short bow.

Hawkeye sipped on his martini. “Okay, but arm's length. We need space for Jesus,” Hawkeye teased, standing up to accept the hand of the man he cared about. Trapper was the one to lead this time, placing a soft hand on the small of Hawkeye’s back, Hawkeye having his hand on Trapper’s shoulder. “Everything good, Captain McIntryre?”

Trapper smiled down at Hawkeye. “In tip-top shape,” Trapper glanced down for a moment before seeing the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. “I’m sorry about being jealous towards you and B.J,”

“Don’t sweat it. It was actually quite attractive seeing you like that if I do say so myself,” Hawkeye smirked.

Trapper matched Hawk’s smirk, looking around to see if anyone was staring right at them. “Well, do you want to make up for lost times?” Trapper whispered, only getting an answer by Hawkeye leading them out in a swift and heading straight for the empty tent they called home. Trapper pulled Hawkeye for a kiss right as the thin door slammed shut, not being able to contain the smile on his lips at the same time. Everything falling back into its blissful place. Hawkeye enjoying every minute of him and Trapper, back in perfect harmony.

[lalainajanes]

for the prompt list: 12. “Welcome back. Now fucking help me.” / 1. Coworker AU / 16. "Sit in my lap" :D

Thank you! I was thinking the other day that I’ve never really done a musicians AU which is silly. So I made that happen here though it’s probs stretching “coworkers.”

The Beat Goes On

When Caroline steps on the bus, she stops immediately, only halfway up the steps. She surveys the scene – Kol, Marcel, Klaus, plus about a half dozen fans. Her eyes turn murderous. She hitches her bag higher on her shoulder, yanks her suitcase up the rest of the way, and storms through the living area. She’s whipped the curtain that hides their bunks closed behind her before Klaus can snag her attention.

A pity. He’d been hoping for her help.

He’s in no mood for company either. Partying all night is such a rockstar cliché – and completely unrealistic considering they need to be on the road in a few hours, then unloading their gear in the next city a few hours after that.

It’s their first headlining tour. They can’t quite afford a complete crew. It’s going well, with most shows sold out. They’ve had to put in a rush order for more merch. Klaus has high hopes the next outing will be a little more luxurious.

Higher hopes that one day they’ll have more than one bus. He’s willing to share with Caroline. Preferably something with an actual bedroom – not the claustrophobic stack of cots they’re currently enduring.

He can’t complain too much. Their current accommodations are far superior to the unreliable van and dingy motels they’d piled into on their first tour. They’d been the first of several supporting acts, had considered themselves lucky when they’d turned a profit by the end.

That profit had bought some decent recording equipment, the EP they’d put out after doing well on Spotify. A better tour had followed. Then another. Press, photoshoots. Then interest from a few labels.

Klaus has only spent a few nights of the last few years in his own bed. He has no regrets.

He sets his beer down, stands. Pretends not to notice when one of the women who’d been inching closer and closer swipes it immediately.

He’ll have to check eBay tomorrow. See what the going rate for his saliva is. He doesn’t bother to excuse himself.

Caroline’s stowing her belongings. Klaus would bet they have the cleanest tour bus in the history of the music industry. Caroline’s a bit of a psychotic neat freak. Over the years she has doled out vicious punishments when a “Close Cohabitation Survival Rule” (there’s an extensive list - laminated and prominently posted) is violated.

Kol had been the slowest to learn. To drive the lesson home, Caroline had snipped out the back pockets of every pair of trousers he’d packed. She’ then hidden all of his underwear. Had bribed, threatened or cajoled every man on tour not to offer a spare pair.

She’d timed it flawlessly, Kol hadn’t had time to run out to a shop, and they hadn’t been significant enough to have anyone they could send on an errand. Kol had done a show with his arse – clad only in a pair of Caroline’s lime green lace boy shorts, hanging out of a ruined pair of jeans. The pictures appeared online within minutes, Kol will likely be answering questions about his preference in underwear for the rest of his natural life.

Caroline’s plots had done the trick. Their belongings tend to stay organized, their floors are never sticky, and the bathroom is perfectly sanitary.

Her bunk’s curtain is closed, but Klaus sees a faint glow, knows she’s not asleep. He yanks the curtain aside.

He’s willing to risk stoking Caroline’s anger. He’s exceedingly good at soothing her.

Caroline glares and tries to pull the fabric out of Klaus’ grip. “Go away.”

He gauges how much she means it, finds little heat in her tone. And she shifts over willingly when he climbs in next to her, lifts her legs so he can curl his under them. Caroline had showered at the venue, had her hair braided and off her face. She wears an old pair of sweats (his) and a tank top. Klaus attempts to coax, “Come out and have a drink.”

Caroline’s nose wrinkles, “Pass.”

“One drink.”

“I’m tired. It’s crowded.”

Weak excuses. “You’ll miss the show.”

That piques her interest. Caroline hates to be out of the loop.

“What show?”

“Our lovely manager should arrive shortly, shouldn’t she? Why else would Kol have three girls who’s name’s he hasn’t bothered to learn draped all over him?”

She twists her head to stare at him, and Klaus is sorely tempted by how close her mouth is. It would be so easy to close the minuscule gap and press his lips to hers, to stroke the spot on her neck that always makes her eyes roll back and her hips shift close.

But they don’t do that anymore.

“Are you telling me,” Caroline says slowly, disbelief etched in every word. “That Kol’s concocted some teen soap style plot to make Bonnie jealous?”

“I did try to tell him it was unwise.” Though, if he’s honest, Klaus hadn’t tried that hard.

Caroline presses the heel of her hand to her forehead, a frustrated groan spilling from her throat. “I have been trying so hard to convince Bonnie he’s serious. He’s going to ruin all my hard work.”

“All the more reason for you to come out, hmm? Can’t have all of your most excellent matchmaking going to waste.”

He’s not even upset when she elbows him in the stomach because he knows he’s won. He slides out of the bunk, and Caroline twists, “I need to find my phone and stall Bon,” she mutters. Her tanktop slides up as she rummages through her blankets, and Klaus clasps his hands behind his back because the urge to run his hand over the smooth skin of her hip might be stronger than he is.

He has a plan, well thought out, and practically foolproof. He cannot rush. Caroline pauses when she notices Klaus watching, balances on her elbow, and shoves his shoulder with her free hand. “Get out there. Make sure no one does anything too stupid.”

“No promises.” Klaus knows better. He’s known Kol since birth. Reckless acts of stupidity are one of his brother’s specialties.

Caroline’s found her phone, has settled on her stomach. She’s frantically texting, so Klaus exits.

He immediately notes that several bottles of liquor have made their way out. That more people Klaus doesn’t recognize have joined them. Kol’s lost some clothing, has got one arm raised high, splashes of what Klaus is reasonably sure is bourbon splashing down, onto his bare chest.

It has all the makings of a disaster.

Unfortunately, for some reason, Caroline is slow to appear. Kol’s at his jittery, exuberant drunk stage, unable to sit still or focus on a topic for longer than a few moments. He’s telling stories that are only half true, gesturing wildly. A few of their visitors are enthralled. Marcel had slipped outside with a few people, Klaus hears his laugh drift in through the open door occasionally.

Two women have boxed him in. They don’t seem to mind that he has no interest in the conversation they insist on prolonging. They giggle delightedly at his clipped answers. Klaus has already taken photos, signed skin. Has his fingers crossed their not the type to rush off to a tattoo parlor.

When Caroline emerges from the back, Klaus has a moment of déjà vu. She barely notices Kol; her attention focused on him, and the people invading his personal space. She’s furious again, more so, Klaus thinks.

He’s always been confident in his plan but won’t say no to the ego boost her obvious jealousy provides.

It’s a small space; she’s in front of him in a few steps. Klaus smiles up at Caroline, grabs her wrist. She appears confused for a second – it’s been ages since he’s touched her in front of another person.

He hasn’t attempted it since being photographed, having the images splashed all over social media and picked apart, became a real possibility. Caroline had begun shying away once the tweets and the Instagram comments had started coming in. Some positive, a lot negative. Klaus had followed her lead. Had figured he’d let her get used to the fame, that he’d just have to convince her that they could be together publicly without ruining what they have privately.

He drags her hand to his mouth, distracts her by pressing a chaste kiss to the back of it. He hears a gasp to his left, but he doesn’t care, tugs harder until Caroline loses her balance.

She lands in his lap, and one of the women leaps to her feet with a yelp. Convenient, as it gives Klaus more room to maneuver. He wraps his arm around Caroline’s waist and settles her more comfortably, her side resting against his chest. He pitches his voice loud enough to be heard clearly by everyone in the room, “A bit clumsy tonight, aren’t you? It’s fine, sit in my lap.”

The woman who’d swiped his beer bottle is either drunk enough not to mind her tongue or unconcerned with basic manners. “Are you two?” She lifts a hand in a gesture that’s both vague and slightly lascivious.

Caroline squirms, but Klaus squeezes her hip, cutting off her denial with a whisper in her ear. “You took ages. Welcome back, now fucking help me.”

She pinches his stomach in retaliation. Klaus holds back a wince. Caroline ignores it, turns on the charm, smiling warmly at their nosy questioner. “Nope. We’ve just known each other for ages. Spent way too much time in tight spaces. Not a lot of boundaries when you’ve spent months crammed in a van, you know?”

Klaus could comment about the private time they’d managed to enjoy in that van occasionally but Caroline’s fingernails are sharp. He doesn’t mind wearing their imprints, but he’d prefer to earn those marks pleasurably.

“So, you’re just friends?”

“Bon-Bon!” Kol shouts, interrupting Caroline’s response.

(Probably a good thing. Klaus isn’t entirely sure he trusts himself to stick to his timeline if Caroline tried to claim they were just anything while sitting on his lap and wearing his clothes.)

He’s surprised when Caroline settles back against him, rather than leaping to his feet. Pleased, too. Her arm drapes around his shoulders, her fingertips tangling in his necklaces. She watches the scene unfolding in front of her.

Her touch is familiar, missed. Klaus closes his eyes to enjoy it while he can.

[timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic]

Chapter 29 - You Love me So Hard

Dusseldorf Germany, April 16 1990

(Andi is 20, Chris is 25)

ANDI: Sitting at the back of the large tour bus, I place my pen in between my lips and flip through my planner going over everything that's planed for the European leg of the tour. It's the first time as their manager that I will be overseeing everything on this tour and I'm so damn nervous. I want everything to go as smoothly as possible especially without any sort of hiccups on my end. I brought my two favorite guitars with me, my '59 Sunburst Gibson and the '90 re-issue of the Sparkle Silver Gretsch Duo Jet that I got for my birthday. Chris has the '81 black Gibson Standard with all his gear, so hopefully these two will keep me a calm and collected as possible. I even brought my shitty little amp on the bus which made Jason laugh. I still have no idea why he's such a dick to me sometimes. I have to admit though, I have no clue what I am doing. Susan said that I could call her at anytime if I needed any help but I want to be able to do this on my own. She's my best friend and I do not want to let her down.

"Hey baby," Chris says as he slides open the divider. I flip over another page and glance up at him.

"Hermph... ah, hey," I say as I fumble with the pen forgetting that it was between my lips. Chris laughs as he moves over to me and flops down on the couch beside me, flipping his curls out of his face and leans to look over my shoulder. He smells of fresh cologne and aftershave, his face completely smooth, not a hint of stubble anywhere.

"What'cha doin'?" He asks resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Just going over the schedule, making notes... you know, boring stuff," I say as I make a few scribblings with my pen on the pages.  He then reaches over and takes my left hand, distracting me for just a moment and I glance at him raising my eyebrow at him.

"Hey, it's healing pretty good," He says examining the freshly inked tattoo on my ring finger- a simple design for now until it's completed once we actually get married - and places his lips there.

"It better... fucking hurt like a bitch," I say and Chris laughs then reaches for my hips to pull me into his lap, I touch my forehead to his and see his necklace with the silver ring that Andy had given him that also had the diamond engagement ring that Chris gave to me. I then begin to play with both of them between my fingers, and I suddenly felt this horrible sadness seemingly come out of nowhere hitting me in the chest like a ton of bricks. Losing Andy still hurts so much.

"You put my ring with his?" I ask.

"Yea... I uh, wanted to keep it with me," He says softly and places his lips to my temple.

"I miss him," My voice breaks.

"Me too baby... me too," He says and  moves to brush his lips across mine, pulling me in closer and I respond.

His hands move back down and around my back, his fingers trailing up under my loosely fitted Dead Kennedy's tank top, skipping across my skin. It's amazing how in one moment I feel such horrible pain and as soon as he touches me, I quickly forget, relishing in his comfort and knowing that he is the only one who feels the way I do.

Suddenly the bus comes to a stop and Chris slowly pulls away from me, looking confused at where we are.

"Shit, what time is it?" I ask as I move myself from his embrace and make my way over to the window. We had pulled into a large parking lot behind the small club and see a handful of people standing outside the back entrance.

"Sound check time," Chris says as he rises from the couch and pulls open the divider. I quickly grab my planner and follow Chris off the bus with Kim, Matt and Jason in tow.

"Alright, so... I'm gonna go and find the promoter, hopefully they speak some English, and I'll meet you guys inside?" I say as I jump down off the last step of the bus. They all nod at me with Chris giving me the cutest smirk as he leans down and places a quick kiss on my lips. I reach up and place my hand on his cheek, feeling the incredible softness of his smooth skin, then break away to head to the front of the club to find the promoter.

*****

"Ze show needz to be tame ya? Tame..." the German promotor re-iterates to me as we stand backstage and just down the hall from the dressing rooms while Chris's voice soars during their soundcheck.

"Ok but... I don't know how tame you expect it to be, since you have..." I trail off and glance down at the page in my planner to see who Soundgarden was opening for. "Nichts playing after them,"

I had no idea if I was even saying the band name right but from what was written on my planner, they are a sort of gothic Industrial band with a somewhat elaborate stage show.

"Zoundgarden must be tame!" He exclaims in his thick German accent once more, emphasizing by waving his hands around which makes me flinch. He then heads in the opposite direction of the dressing rooms and I'm left standing there wondering what the hell just happened. I exhale and a stray curl flutters up as I close my planner and make my way back to the dressing room, confused.

Must be tame? What the hell?

Once I enter the dressing room, I set my planner down on the table and walk over to the mini bar to make myself a drink. I'm feeling frustrated and nervous all at the same time and since my guitar is on the bus, I can't quite pick up and just play while I'm supposed to be working. I'm starting to feel like I might slip and I don't want to at all if I can help it, so instead I pull out a bottle of Jack Daniels, a shot glass and a can of diet coke - I don't really like diet coke but I'll drink it if there's nothing else - and I pour myself a shot hoping it will calm my nerves a little bit.

"Hey baby... you wanna pour me one too?" Chris says as he enters the dressing room raising his eyebrow at me with that mischievous smirk like he caught me doing something I shouldn't be doing. I knock back the first one as he wanders over to me, feeling that sweet but sour burn trickle down my throat and I set the shot glass back down to pull out another shot glass.

"Sure," I say with my voice caught in my throat and pour him a shot. He laughs as he places his hand on the small of my back and I hand him over the dark liquid in the shot glass.  He brings it up to his lips, waiting for me to pour mine and once I do, I turn and hold mine up with him pushing my curls out of my eyes.

"On Three?" He says with that same smirk.

"Uh huh," I say and take a deep breath.

"And... Three," We both say at the same time, and I clink my glass to his while we both knock them back at the same time. He flinches just a bit and I open the can of diet coke and take a sip.

"Shit that was... sour," Chris winces and I giggle.

"Yea, I think the bottle's been open for a while," I try to contain my wince. Normally I can just drink it straight like water, but this bottle - jeeze.

"You guys finished with soundcheck?" I ask as I pass him the can of diet coke.

"Yea I think my voice is warmed up enough... I need a smoke though," He says looking around the room and spotting his leather jacket on the couch. He takes a sip and passes it back to me, quickly placing his lips on my temple, then moving over to grab his cigarettes out of the side pocket of his jacket. I take another sip of diet coke as I watch him light one up, taking a drag and squinting his eyes from the rising smoke.

"Alright I think that case of beer in the fridge is calling my name," Matt says as he bounds through the door with Kim following behind. Matt smiles at me as I step aside and he grabs a couple for us, handing me one.

"Andi," Matt says sweetly and clinks his beer to mine. I was already feeling a lot more relaxed from those two shots I just had but I obviously don't want to be rude so I take a sip.

"Where's Jason?" I ask.

"He stepped outside for a smoke I think," Kim says lighting up a cigarette and then taking a sip of his beer. I'll never understand why Jason always just wants to be off by himself. I needed to go over with them just how the promotor wants the show to run and it doesn't make it easy when Jason just decides to take off outside.

We all end up hanging out for a little while with Jason still outside somewhere, Kim and Matt making me laugh with their usual wittiness, and Chris just obviously being Chris and becoming playful and silly too. Especially when he decided to grab me from the couch and pull me down on top of him to tickle me to get me to lighten up a bit. In the midst of him pulling me down on him, I spill my beer getting it all over myself and even though Chris doesn't care, I really didn't want to smell like beer.

"Oh no baby, are you mad?" Chris laughs as I attempt to push myself up from him and try to hold the bottle of beer.

"No," I say flatly pressing my lips together and holding out the bottle so I don't spill any more of it while Kim and Matt laugh along with Chris.

"I don't know, I think she might be a little mad," Kim chuckles and takes a sip.

"No, no I'm not mad at all. I'm just thinking about how... I get you back!" I shout and pour the rest of my beer all over Chris then quickly escape his arms laughing.

"Andrea!" Chris half laughs but I could tell he wasn't expecting me to do that. He sits up and tries to dry the liquid that was all over him, flipping his curls out of his face and squinting at me.

"Fuck man... you sure you want to marry her?" Kim chuckles.

"Hey!" I say and Kim flinches but starts to laugh which makes me laugh.

"I'm not so sure now," Chris says giving a slight chuckle as he rises from the couch and removes his black T-Shirt.

"Gee thanks," I reply sarcastically placing my hands on my hips and Chris laughs again.

Suddenly there was a knock at the dressing room door. I turn and open the door to see the German promoter once again as he looks at me up and down.

"You uh, Ze Zoundgarden?" He says and the guys look at me.

"Yes, um... this is um, Kim and Matt... sorry I don't know where Jason is... and that's Chris over there," I say apprehensively and gesture towards Chris as he dabs his bare chest off with a towel.

"Ok, Ze crowd iz showing up so... good to go?" He asks in his broken English.

"Yes, we're ready," I re-assure him.

"Ok, remember... must be tame ya? Tame," He says to me once again and I could feel the confused looks from the guys as the promotor walks away.

"What the hell was that about?" Chris asks as I close the door.

"Oh, nothing... he just doesn't want you to um... you know, be better than the headliner. He wants you to keep it tame, don't take off your shirt, don't climb the rafters... you know, the usual," I say nonchalantly and push my curls behind my ear.

"Uh huh," Chris says flatly and raises his eyebrow at me.

"Chris?" I ask. I could tell the wheels were turning in his head.

"Well I guess we're just gonna have to give them a show they'll never forget," Chris smirks while Matt and Kim sip their beers.

Why do I have a feeling Chris is up to something?

*****

"...Fuck it! Time to wake Up!" Chris yells into the mic while Kim starts the into to 'Head Injury' and I stand off to the side of the stage while I watch the entire crowd stand there staring up at the band with no emotion and no reaction at all. Most of them are along the sides of the venue, some of them in the middle of the floor and almost every single one just staring up at Chris, clearly not liking what they are doing.

I glance around behind me and I see no trace of the promoter at all, but once I turn back to watch Chris, he jumps off Matt's drum riser and somehow knees himself in the face.

"Oh Shit," I say though the band can't hear me at all but I see Chris recover as if nothing happened but his nose is actually starting to bleed.

Chris obviously not even caring at all continues to circle around the stage with Kim off to the one side glancing at him every once and a while as Chris continues to scream into the mic, bloody face and all. I have never see him do anything like this at all and I've seen some crazy Soundgarden shows.

"You got a kiss for me, it's sweet and frail! You got a fist for me, sure to impale! My hand on my head, your words are like arrows, My hand on my head, my mind growing narrrrroowww!!" Chris wails into the mic as he continues to circle, completely lost in the energy of the song, ripping his shirt off and throwing it off somewhere and still no one in the crowd is giving him any sort of reaction at all.

"No! I told you I said tame... TAME!" I suddenly hear the promoter behind me screaming waving his hands around. I try to tell the promoter that I had no idea they were going to do this but he wasn't having it at all.

"You got a kiss for me, it hits me hard! You got a fist for me, you love me so hard! My hands on my head, your words are like arrows! My hands on my head, my mind growing narrow.....! Head, head, head, head, head HEEEEAAADDDD!!!!" Chris screams and throws the mic stand into the crowd.

I watch as the mic stand hits the floor and slides across like a spear, landing at the far end of the back wall where some people quickly moved out of the way but still look up at Chris like they weren't impressed at all. Kim Matt and Jason all stop playing once the song reached the end - obviously, and Chris stood there on stage, his mess of curls completely covering his bloody face while he pants trying to catch his breath. Normally they would be doing some sort of feedback ending but I've never heard them end a set with 'Head Injury' before. Then slowly the crowd starts to 'Boo' and all I could do was stand there.

****

"You will never be allowed here again, I promise you that - "

"I'm sorry, I had no idea that -" I start but the promoter once again cuts me off.

"Never again!" He shouts at me as Chris walks up to us backstage and Kim, matt and Jason pass by heading back to the dressing room.

"What the hell is going on here?" Chris asks concerned as he dabs a towel to his face. His nose had stopped bleeding a long while ago but he was still a little messed up from it.

"You! I said no extreme... I want you out! Out!" The promoter yells at Chris in his broken English but Chris just gives him a defiant look and a smirk indicating he was pleased with himself. I just wanted to crawl under the stage and never come out.

"-ok, ok we're leaving, I swear... come on, lets get back on the bus," I say and grab Chris's bicep and attempt to lead him backstage so that we can get the hell out of here.

"No babe, This guy's a piece of shit for yelling at you the whole time," Chris says staring the promoter down.

"I want you OUT!" The promoter shouts once more.

"Or what? - " Chris challenges.

"Chris, come on," I say as I pull on his arm trying to lead him back to the dressing room. As I finally break up the argument that should have never taken place I am finally able to lead Chris back to the dressing room to quickly grab the rest of our stuff and see that Kim Matt and Jason have already piled outside to get on the bus. I barely speak a word to him as I throw his leather jacket at him and pick up my planner making sure there was no other trace of us being there.

Once we make it onto the bus Chris continues to wipe his face and pleads with me to talk to him but I'm so pissed off and frustrated with him that I can't even think of anything to say.

"Babe... wait... hey," He calls after me as I hop up onto the bus and he follows behind me.

"... is there something wrong? Did you happen to experience some brain damage when you hit your face somehow?" I ask angered turning around to face Chris as Kim and Matt sit on opposite sides of the couch, looking like they were trying to avoid the fight that was about to take place between Chris and I.

"Andi I was just - " Chris starts standing there shirtless in the middle of the bus isle.

"You were just what?! What were you trying to do?! Make everything worse? Because if that was your goal well you sure as shit did a great job in doing so!" I shout. I couldn't help it.

Why does he have to be so defiant with people sometimes? Why does he always have to prove a point when someone tells him not to do something?

"That guy was a dick and he was acting like an ass towards you and everyone else," Chris says.

"So?" I say.

"So? What do you mean 'so'?" Chris chuckles sarcastically and I could tell by the look on Matt and Kim's faces that they felt extremely awkward being in the middle of our fight.

"I mean I was handling it. Yea he was a dick but so what? I don't need you to save me each time some asshole gives me a hard time alright?" I shout back as I walk towards the back of the bus, slamming the divider door shut.

[unpopular-bishop]

outsider pov

“I already have someone’s gear in my care.”

-

Khaofang isn’t bitter.

Sure, she’s liked Kongpob since she first saw him, and sure, she’s been trying to gather the courage to confess for months, and sure, her feelings are hurt and her pride is hurt and she is sad. But she isn’t bitter, and she’ll get over it. She liked Kongpob, but she wasn’t in love or anything. Maybe she could have been, given a few more months, but Kongpob had been blunt but kind in his let down. Hadn’t given her even a hint of hope to hold on to.

And she can appreciate and respect that. If she can’t be with him, then at the very least, she wants him to be happy. If he’s already taking care of someone’s gear, and he seems so serious about the responsibility, well...that must mean something. Must mean he loves the person he cares about very much. Is happy with them. She very much wants him to be happy.

So she isn’t bitter.

...

She is, on the other hand, curious as hell. Who in the world could have snatched up someone as kind and patient and smart and sort of perfect as her Phi?

Standing on the beach and watching Kongpob walk away, Khaofang imagines that whoever she is, she’s got to be about as perfect as Kongpob.

She imagines someone beautiful, but in a plain sort of way. Someone who doesn’t draw stares, but who has a presence and a nice smile. Someone who likes to be doted on. She can tell that Kongpob likes to do things for the people he cares about. He’s observant and always there with a kind word or advice when any of his juniors need it. Even his punishments tend to be kind and he always explains why he’s handing out exercise or essays. And he smiles a lot, so the person who’s gear he’s taking care of must smile a lot, too. Maybe she’s funny? Khaofang hopes so. Or maybe she doesn’t smile enough, so Kongpob makes up for it. Maybe instead of funny, she’s overly serious or stoic.

Khaofang pictures a blank, person-shaped image in her head and slowly molds it into what she thinks is the perfect person for Kongpob. She’s pretty in a quiet sort of way, and has a serious face that is cute when she smiles. She’s got a good personality, Khaofang decides; maybe not as kind as Kongpob but definitely similar to him. She has a gear, so she must be smart like Kongpob, too, and tough enough to have gotten through the previous years of SOTUS hazing, which Khaofang has heard were much more rigorous. Was she in Kongpob’s year? Or older?

Khaofang thinks she would have noticed someone hanging around her Phi after all this time, so she decides that his girlfriend must be older - a year or two at least. And she must like to be doted on, but also makes sure to take care of Kongpob in turn, for him to care about her so dearly. He hadn’t even hesitated to reject her, and she was a catch!

She follows her Phi slowly, trying to both soothe her own hurt and imagine the kind of person she lost out to without even realizing they exist. She wants to meet her, if possible. Wants to know if she’s really as perfect as Khaofang thinks, hopes, she is. Wants to see if maybe, just maybe, Khaofang might have a chance in the future.

-

She doesn’t quite know how it happens, but she and Kratai end up sitting with the seniors later that night. She and Kongpob are sitting on opposite sides and ends of the table. She can’t help that she wishes she were closer to him, even after the rejection. Kongpob just has an aura of calm warmth, a kindness that makes her feel happy and relaxed but energized all at once.

She hopes that the person who he has given his gear to feels that, too. Hopes that she feels it even more, even! She better appreciate what and who she has or Khaofang will swoop in!

Khaofang sneaks a glance toward Kongpob and takes a second to appreciate how nice he looks. She’s used to seeing him so serious and put together. His hair is usually slicked back and his engineering shirt gives him the air of an intimidating senior, and he always stands so straight and stiff when he’s around his juniors.

Here, though, he looks soft. His hair is ungelled and he’s wearing a billowy white shirt that softens his face and sort of brings out a sweetness that she’s never quite noticed before. Plus the cut of the collar is low enough that she feels her face flush before she cuts her eyes away. It isn’t fair to her, or to him, to keep looking. Especially after she’s been so rejected just an hour ago - and she’ll stop.

Just one more night, and she’ll stop.

She glances again.

Kongpob is sitting with a graduated senior she’s spotted around a few times but has never really spoken to. She’d say Kongpob was sitting between this Phi and M, except there’s a pointed space between Kongpob and M that just doesn’t exist between her Phi and his Phi. The senior has an arm slung across Kongpob’s shoulders in a casual sort of touch that she’s never seen anyone have with him before. Kongpob has never been unfriendly, but there is often a distance, a wall, that he keeps up between himself and other people around him. M is exempt, in a way, but she can’t remember a time that even he has been so casually close to Kongpob before. She might not have noticed except that she is watching tonight, drinking him in so that she will have this night to remember until she’s truly ready to let go.

She isn’t good with names, and only knows Bright’s because he so loudly introduced himself earlier, but he and Prem seem close to the senior next to Kongpob.

“Arthit!” Bright says loud enough to catch her attention, and that must be his name because he perks up. She’s caught up in how happy Kongpob looks, relaxed in a way she hadn’t imagined he could look, and that’s why she notices the way he leans into Arthit’s space just a little. Kongpob’s shoulders are lax and he can’t seem to keep his eyes off Arthit’s face, memorizing it not unlike how she’s memorizing his. “Where the hell have you been? Why did you disappear!? You went to be with Kongpob, didn’t you?” he sings a silly song but she’s distracted by he and Prem beginning to bicker about Prem doing the gear ceremony alone.

“Ai’Arthit kept calling me! He even took a cab to meet me at my bar. Look how much he wanted to come.”

She doesn’t know why that statement gets a reaction but Arthit pulls such an innocent face that even she can tell that something is up, and Kongpob starts to smile again, a slow and sweet sort of look that makes her heart ache for some reason.

“You’re talking too much.” Arthit says pointedly and Prem buts in with more teasing. They get Arthit spluttering but Khaufang can’t help but watch how happy Kongpob looks - like a cat who’s tasted the cream. He’s still leaning in to Arthit. Something is beginning to wiggle at the back of Khaufang’s mind, but she just doesn’t know what it is. Something feels like it’s close to clicking into place but hasn’t just yet.

She’s still thinking about it when Bright demands pictures, and she smiles automatically even as her mind churns to make sense of the information in front of her. She can taste the answer she’s coming closer and closer to, but she can’t recognize the flavor of it yet.

Kongpob looks like he’s bracing himself and she tunes back into the conversation in time to hear Prem demand, “Ai’Arthit! Your eyes were on Kongpob!”

“What!? No!”

She sees Kongpob’s cheeks start to go red and he lifts a hand to his face, covering his pleased, wide grin. She’s never seen him smile like that before.

“He mistook N’Kongpob’s eyes for the camera!” Bright accuses with a flourish of the phone and Khaufang watches as the whole table of Kongpob’s closest friends and seniors all ooooh loudly in teasing, implicating noises.

“I wanted to show my side profile!” Arthit tries to deny, but he’s blushing, just a bit, and Kongpob looks - happy. So happy.

Khaofang takes a deep, deep drink of her water and wishes it were something stronger.

All of the pieces click.

-

She sits on the bus with Kratai asleep against her shoulder and watches the world blur by as she thinks.

Arthit is not at all like she imagined Kongpob’s sweetheart to be. He’s a man, for one, but she’s a modern girl in modern times and that doesn’t bother her.

He’s handsome, at least - not the understated beauty she’s been imagining but he looked - soft, at dinner. Like there were hard edges to him that the beach had washed smooth for a time. But he wasn’t funny like Bright, but nor was he especially stoic. And Kongpob didn’t crack jokes to make him laugh, or dote on him especially. If she hadn’t been watching, if their friends hadn’t given them up, she would have more than likely written the night away as two close friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while.

She couldn’t write away the look on Kongpob’s face, though, as he watched Arthit like he might disappear at any moment. He hadn’t torn his gaze from Arthit the entire time, like Arthit had drawn him into orbit without even realizing. In the rare instances that Kongpob had looked away, Arthit had found him with his eyes and smiled in a way that made her feel like she hadn’t been supposed to see it.

No, she decides and lets Kratai tangle their hands together and settle more comfortably on her shoulder, Arthit isn’t really anything at all like she thought her love rival would be.

But the way Kongpob had looked at him, the way he’s practically glowed every time they’d been poked at or Arthit had leaned closer to him, was enough to show her that the most important thing was true - Kongpob was happy. He was taking care of Arthit’s gear and Arthit was probably taking care of his in return.

She’d lost long before she’d even known that she should start racing, but she still finds herself smiling at the memory of that shy, pleased grin on Kongpob’s face when Bright at teased them after the photo.

She isn’t bitter about this loss at all.

But, she thinks firmly to herself, Arthit better watch out, and take care of that gear with his whole heart. Otherwise, she’ll still be here, and she’ll make him regret it!

[rogueariadne]

To Have A Villain’s Quirk

SIX: PROUD

Kaida stayed away from everyone as they filed off of the bus in front of Battle Center C, fiddling with the ponytail she had resting over her shoulder. Maybe she should put it up higher, or into a bun to keep it out of her way. She'd be bound to get caught if she let it stay loose. Making up her mind, she quickly put it into a semi high bun, taking a breath as she looked around at the other competitors, then up at the large doors that blocked them from going in just yet. Maybe she should get closer too, that way she can barge straight in- no, everyone else will be doing that. Hmm, she could use her rinkaku to move past everyone as stay perched at a good height. She'd be able to see everything then and get to the enemies quicker than everyone else.

    "Hey, pretty lady! Why are you all by your lonesome?" Kaida stopped mid thought, eyes slowly shifting to the side to find the owner of whoever just spoke. Only a few inches taller than her, she looked at a orangey-blond haired boy with gold eyes. Plain looking, except for the black streak in his hair. He had a big smile on his face, as he tilted his head down at her. A little too close. He could practically hear the gears in her head turning as she comprehended what he had just said, laughing as soon as her face blossomed red. Her parents and Midoriya were the only ones she ever gotten this close to. Just what was this boy doing?

    "Too close!" She quickly shuffled away, staring at him wide eyed. "W-what are you doing?" He chuckled as he stood up a little straighter, his friendly smile still playing on his lips.

    "Hah! Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. You just looked lonely is all." The maroonette looked down, trying to force the heat in her face to go away. The boy watched her wring out her hands, humming to himself. He stuffed one hand in his pocket before pointing to himself. "Well, the name's Denki Kaminari! So, what should I call you?" Kaida was at a loss with his flirtatious smile, eyes trying to avoid his. He just found it cute.

    "Ah.. Kaida's fine." She was never one for formality, calling someone by their last name. She saw going by first names right out the gate was an easier way to get closer to being friends. At this moment, though, she didn't know if she'd be able to handle this boy's friendship.

    "Kaida, huh? Suits you." He followed it with a wink, causing her to feel like she was going to close in on herself. She was happy when she heard Present Mic's voice echo through the area about starting. She didn't even take a second glance at the boy as she took off. As soon as they passed the gate, she sent her rikaku to latch onto the top of one of the buildings, pulling herself onto the roof to get a better look at the surroundings. She just needed to defeat these things and rack up a bunch of points. She just hoped that Izuku was doing okay.

    Ten minutes was all they had to rack up points, but she wasn't going to complain. She also wasn't above stealing points from others either. That being said, she could see the robots from where she was, and with the help of the five tails she managed to create, she could strike down the creatures in multiples. She could already hear the others shouting in annoyance, but she needed the points, but she could already see her recklessness was going to cause someone to get hurt, so she made sure that she kept the pieces from squashing anyone. She hopped rooftop to rooftop, catching points left and right, even seeing the Kaminari boy she ran into. But she didn't pay him much mind as she continued on, huffing as she was slowly getting low on energy. She knew it was going to happen, but it wasn't draining her as quick as it used to. Kaida was definitely happy that she had pushed herself so hard. As she went through the area, she caught a falling piece of debris from hitting one of the female contestants, Kaida getting a thankful wave before they went their separate ways.

    Soon, time was up, the alarm sounding overhead, and she swore it was the shortest ten minutes she had ever felt. She panted as she deactivated her quirk, resting her hands on her knees to catch her breath before she left the center with everyone else. It looked like they were all just as worn out. Boarding the bus back to get their things, Kaminari caught up with her, sitting beside her. "Hey! I saw you up on the buildings, you were amazing!"

    "Huh?!"

    "Yeah! You took out the robots like it was nothin'! And I saw that you saved one of the girls here, too." He went on, an excited look on his face as his hands moved with his words. "You're really hero material! There's no doubt you'll get in!" His praises just made Kaida's face redder by the second. No one has really praised her like that. Her parents, sure, but Izuku hadn't really seen her use her quirk much, so he wasn't able to have an opinion about it.

    "Ah, well, thank you.."

    "No problem, cutie!" God, she just wanted to hide.

    Making back to UA without too much of a problem, Kaida still hadn't been able to shake the electric puppy dog from her trail, instead just letting him talk away, while she just listened and nodded. He was so talkative. At least he dropped the compliments and was finally talking about normal stuff. They soon had to split ways to go get changed and collect their things, so Kaida mustered up a big smile and wave, while Denki finger-gunned himself away. She giggled a little bit before getting herself together. As she left the changing rooms, she noticed the brown haired girl they had talked to this morning. It looked like she was caught staring by her, the girl making her way to her with a slight worried look.

    "H-hey. You came here with that boy with green hair, right?" She asked, pushing her fingers together nervously. Kaida blinked, frowning as she slowly nodded, confused. "Right, um, he might need help getting home.. he got hurt dur-" Kaida didn't let her finish before she took off. She knew it! She knew something like this would happen! He was probably reckless, too! That dummy!

    She searched around before she finally came across him with the well known Recovery Girl. "Izuku Midoriya!" She shouted, scaring the poor boy. "You were reckless, weren't you? I told you to be careful! You're not made of steel!"

    "Wah! I-I'm sorry, Kai! Don't worry! I'll be more careful!"

    "You better be! Now, let's get you home. Dummy."

                                                                                      *

One Week Later

    If her estimates were correct, Kaida would be receiving the results sometime soon, but it was killing her to not know. She was constantly unfocused, staring off into space, or even being locked up in her room not making a noise. She checked for mail every day since then, confusing her mother, but it didn't matter. She just needed to know. She and Midoriya had been messaging back and forth everyday about the results and what they could be. She tried her best to cheer him up, after he told her what happened. He had a late quirk, according to him. It was unheard of, but she guessed that they just didn't know that much about quirks like they thought they did. At the moment though, she had herself leaning over the counter as her mother cooked herself dinner. Kaori was constantly watching her, worry etched into her features. Eventually, she sighed.

    "Okay.. Honey. I know you've been checking the mail at about this time for the past week. Why don't you go check it, maybe whatever you're waiting for has finally come in." She had no clue what her daughter could be waiting on but it as obviously important. Kaida reluctantly removed herself from the counter, shuffling to the door.

    "Yeah, okay.." Kaori raised a brow as she staggered out the door, shaking her head as she pulled her food of the stove to put it on her plate. She nearly dropped the pan when the door slammed open and her daughter came rushing in, almost sliding past the counter with an envelope in hand. "IT'S HERE, IT'S HERE!"

    "O-okay! What is it?" Kaori quickly asked, startled as the girl ripped the whole thing open, a small disk flopping out onto the counter. The woman, circled the counter to stand next to her, curious now. A hologram forming from the disk, All Might appearing in the screen. "Honey, w-why is the number one pro hero on this projector..?"

 "Hello! It is a pleasure to let you know that you have passed both the written and practical exam with flying colors." Kaida stared up at All Might's face as the entrance exam results for the top ten were listed, her seeing her name with the number of villain and rescue points. Fifty-nine Villain points.. and sixteen Rescue Points. Sh-she was ranked second place! "As the newest teacher for the Hero Course, I, personally, would like to congratulate you on being accepted. Welcome, Kaida Hiyama. You are now apart of the Hero Academia." All Might's big smile remained frozen as the projection ended, eventually turning off. Kaida remained staring off at the spot where the projection was, feeling her eyes watering before the hot tears slipped down her cheeks.

    "K-Kaida.. You.. You enrolled in UA?" Her mothers voice broke through her thoughts and she hesitantly turned to look at her. She was surprised to see her mother crying her own tears. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Oh!" She pulled her daughter in for a hug, squeezing her with all her might. "I'm so proud of you!" Kaida hugged her back tightly, feeling her heart swell at finally being accepted and being told that she was proud of her. She had never felt like she belonged more than she did in that moment. She quickly pulled back, a big, happy smile on her face.

    "I gotta call Izuku and tell him! I'll be back!" She quickly grabbed her phone and ran up to her room. Kaori watched her bound out of sight, eyes still overflowing with tears as she closed her eyes.

    "What do you mean, 'she changed her mind'?"

    "She can't just do that, that's our child! MY child!"

    "Mrs. Hiyama, I understand you're concern, but you have nothing to worry about."

    "She signed the papers, she can't keep my child!"

    "Legally, no, but.."

    "But nothing! She's not keeping my child!"

    "Don't worry, my sweet girl. I'll make sure nothing harms you.."

[random-imagines-blog]

Heaven {Diana Prince x Reader One Shot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 3304 Synopsis: After getting caught up in a battle on the streets between Wonder Woman and a villain, you end up traumatized. She continually checks on you.

The sky was getting to a shade of dark blue that was bordering onto black, meaning that the sooner that you got home, the better. But because your boss turned up late to close up, you ended up having to stay and missed the bus - which only happened to come every hour. There was no point to waiting in the same spot for an hour, making a target of yourself. So you decided to walk, keeping your arms around yourself to feel just a bit more secure, keys in hand in case anyone tried to attack. And though there was the Justice League keeping the world safe, you couldn’t guarantee that Batman was going to swoop out of nowhere and save you if some prowlers took advantage of the darkness and attempted to pull you into a dark alley. The world was still a very dangerous place.

So when you started to hear car alarms going off a couple of streets away, you weren’t entirely surprised. You looked around you to see if there was any police, but the one car you did see went tearing down the street to the source of the sounds. Your mind raced and you quickened up your steps. Is there no end to the chaos in the damn city?

On that thought, you started to hear the screams. You then felt the earth quake beneath your feet, like something had caused the tremor on top of the surface rather than below it. Batman may not be a God but you damn well were praying to him and the Justice League right now! Aside from him and Wonder Woman, you didn’t know much about them except they were supposed to help save people. You felt overwhelmed by the fear - you remembered when the city had been taken over by The Joker, when Superman went rogue. This could be like either of those things - or worse. Really, the thought of it not being as bad didn’t even cross your mind.

You could hear the sounds getting closer. You could distinguish the police sirens from the ambulance and firetruck ones, meaning that the city was pulling out a lot of the stops to get whatever this was contained. With that, you looked for the first neon sign that you saw and ran into the place whose window held it. You ended up in a Sports Themed bar but the environment inside was hardly celebratory. The patrons were looking out the windows, but huddled in the back, hoping that would save them from any debris. The bar was a rather small one, just a boxy-type room, and two individual bathrooms in the back. The size of it didn’t make you feel any safer than you did on the street, but it was better to have people around you.

Your thoughts were soon torn out of your head. The windows by you had shattered, the glass cutting into your flesh. It was your reflexes that kicked into gear - your arm raising up to protect your face from any of the heavy damage. You were so overwhelmed by everything that was going on, that you didn’t realize that you were outside until the heavy, thick, sharp fingernails of a woman pierced into your skin, holding you in front of her. However, when you slowly opened your eyes, you found yourself looking at the determined face of a woman in gold. She looked you in the eyes, and you saw no fear in them.

Wonder Woman was standing across from you, and that made you feel slightly better - like this was going to be an ordeal but she was going to make sure that you were alright. She had a sword in her hand, and she looked very much like she knew how to use it. You focused your attention on her, for you were frightful of whatever devil was hiding behind you, using you as a shield. So your eyes caught onto the whip that was coiled up, and against Wonder Woman’s hip. She saw where you were looking, and reached for it, holding onto the thicker end, ready to wield. Your breath was caught in your throat, anticipating the action that you were now a part of.

The nails digging into your arm felt more like claws. Whoever, or whatever it was, had a strong grip. And it was determined not to let you go. It smelled of death, of decay. Wonder Woman was going to be your savior - she just had to be...

The woman in front of you started to charge. It seemed like she was coming right for you but in the last minute, she adjusted her trajectory and shot through the evil thing with her sword. With all of her might, she had gone past you - the wind that she created going through your hair as you stood as still as a statue, your eyes clenched shut to avoid seeing what exactly was happening. It was terrifying enough already.

It must not have gone according to plan, for the demon’s grasp didn’t loosen, but rather it tightened. How this thing did not die, you didn’t know. Wonder Woman didn’t either for she gave a loud cry of anger as the thing continued to hold you tighter and to taunt her. Lights around you shattered - street lights, bar signs, the lights inside the interior of the buildings - all at once. Blue and red played against your closed eyelids as the police caught up but then those too were snuffed out.

But against the darkness, there was a golden line, shooting right through as if the sun had miraculously come out. The hands that grasped you let go, and you fell onto the ground, scraping your cheek against the pavement. Your pain didn’t stop you from getting to your feet and running blindly, refusing to open your eyes until you felt another hand take you and pull you somewhere. Despite the fear, you didn’t cry out.

“It isn’t safe to run around out there, stay here.” A voice said, and then that too was gone. You finally opened your eyes and saw that you had been pulled into an alleyway. Maybe a block or two down from where you had been captured, but you weren’t sure. You didn’t recognize the grafitti on the walls.

You took the stranger’s advice, although he clearly had not taken his own, for he was nowhere to be seen. He must have run into the street or down the other side of the alley but you certainly weren’t going to go off looking for him. Your plan was to stay right there until Wonder Woman, or the police themselves, told you that it was safe to return home. Or to the hospital, with the way that your arm was hurting.

Wonder Woman was the one who came looking for you. You had been huddled in a ball in the alleyway, cold from the wind, bleeding profusely from the arm, and near comatose from the harrowing experience. Wonder Woman picked you up in her arms, and was the one to take you to the hospital herself, bursting through the doors in full uniform. Both the people who were working and the other patients stared at her, but quickly started to hustle and bustle to get you on a stretcher and checked out.

*

You had managed to make it through the week. It had been hard though, and you made a lot of adjustments to how you looked at life and how you handled everyday things. You got rides home from your boss now rather than walk down the streets alone. You kept pepper spray in your pocket at all times, even during the day, though it probably wouldn’t help if something supernatural came after you once more. You had nightmares every night, which ended up with you waking up trembling, and soaking wet from sleep.

Your parents had decided that they were going to pay for you to see a therapist, since the tremors got worse over time rather than any better. Another person for you to sit with in silence, was the way that you saw it. Trying to explain the way that you had felt vulnerable and in danger in those moments was impossible. Before, you would say that you had a pretty good vocabulary. You now didn’t know any words that came close to describing how you were feeling. Your therapist wanted you to at least write down anything that came to your mind when you thought about what had happened, but the notebook stayed empty. Just approaching it with a pen and knowing that you were supposed to think back to what had happened was triggering.

*

The place that you lived had become messy, and disheveled to the point where you gave up trying to find anything. Diana stepped inside, and picked up the towel that you had haphazardly thrown onto your dining room table. There were empty take out containers and frozen food boxes beneath it, which sent up an unpleasant smell. They were quickly thrown into the trash bag by Diana’s strong hands, before she ventured forth to find you.

The Amazonian found you wrapped up in a throw blanket on the couch. Your TV was on, playing a nature documentary about marine life, which she turned off with a push of a button. Diana said your name softly, which she had gotten from the hospital records, along with your address. Each of those had a cost, since the nurses were reluctant, but she was worried about you. She had seen the fear in your eyes, and the way that you were shaking when you were rushed to the emergency room.

You slowly woke up, looking exhausted until you noticed that there was someone else in the room with you. You instantly jumped to your feet, reaching under the couch cushion to pull out one of your kitchen knives. Diana put her hands up to show that she meant no harm, her lasso of truth shining on her hip, bringing light to the room. That helped you calm down just a bit, but you still held onto the knife.

“You are safe here, don’t worry.” These words didn’t do much to assure you, however. As Diana moved closer to you, she veered slightly towards a floor lamp and clicked it on, flooding the room with a soft yellow light. It made you squint, since you had started to grow accustomed to hiding in the darkness.

“After I destroyed the creature, I took care of the one who had created it.” Diana explained to you. “All will be well now, there is no threat that will come into this city, or after you.”

You shook your head, and looked away from the beautiful woman who was shining in the middle of the chaos you called your home. “You don’t understand, it came after me, it held me.. it put it’s claws in me.” Diana reached out out for you, but thought better of it. She instead moved over a small pile of slippers and socks that were on the end of your couch, and took a seat there.

“If I could make that not happen, I would. Especially with how it had hurt you - I do not like to see innocent people get hurt.” You stared at her and you did see the sense of justice in her face - but that did not change what had happened to you, or make you feel any better about it. You wrapped your arms around yourself and closed your eyes for a moment, trying to ground yourself. Your mind had been rather fragile lately - anyone with eyes could see that.

“But you should still take care of yourself,” Diana finished. She stood up slowly, then went around the room, turning on every light. Your electricity bill was already wincing, but that didn’t matter at the time. Diana brought light back into the room and you basked in it like you hadn’t before - you had been hiding in the dark where it’s safe, rather than in the light where you could truly see. With all of that light, you were finally able to see Diana clearly, and she was able to see you.

The room was messy, like the kitchen had been. But it was nothing compared to the mess that you had looked like. The fact that you were able to sit up at all was astounding to her. Diana wanted to run to you and to hold you to her breast and to instantly make you feel better. She felt that this was partly her fault because she hadn’t been able to stop the creature in time. She felt your eyes on her, and returned that, looking straight into yours kindly, showing no pity.

“I asked the hospital for your address, I wanted to see if you are okay.” Diana continued, since you weren’t talking. She would simply fill the silence up for the both of you. “I want to help you.”

There was confusion in the look that you gave to her. “I don’t need help, I’m fine.” You swatted away a stray fly that was hanging around, probably because of the garbage that had piled up - more fast food containers, balled up napkins and empty water bottles.

Diana looked around at the mess, then back at your face. She didn’t need to say a word for you to start blushing with the shame. “I’m okay, really, you don’t need to be here.” You insisted. Diana didn’t bother replying to that, but instead, she started to pick up some of the garbage and put it into the nearest bag. Her work went quickly, and then she opened up the curtains to let some of the natural light pour into the room. But you winced at how bright the room was becoming.

*

At that time, you were not taking care of yourself, your apartment, or anything due to the fear that you felt that the monster was going to come and drag you back to the hell that night had been. You did take a shower that night though, because of Diana’s insistence. She had come back the next day and together, the two of you tackled the kitchen which you had let go first, simply because food hadn’t become a priority - only your need to hide. In the recycling went a bunch of pizza boxes, beverage cans and the flyers that had built up in your mailbox. But all of the food that had gone bad went into the trash can, and Diana helped you to fill your fridge with better options than the fast food you’ve been living off of. She had become a major help in bringing light back to your life after the traumatic ordeal.

It was about taking it one day at a time, and Diana continued to visit you every couple of them. The beautiful Amazonian would check on you, then invite you out for a stroll to get some fresh air, and then the two of you would usually get a meal together. With sparks flying, at least on your end, it was hard to decline any of these visits so you went with her each and every time. She got a lot of attention from the locals, even when she was dressed down in a pair of hip-hugging jeans and a jacket. She never paid attention to them, unless they seemed like a shifty character. You felt like ... like someone special, since she wanted to spend time with you. You had become important to her, and her to you.

Those who didn’t understand her attachment, like Bruce, just had to get over themselves, since she would snap at them when thy tried to stop her from leaving to see you.

That horrible night had been two months ago now. The scratches on your arm had healed and left faint scars, but Diana gave you luxury creams to rub into the skin to get rid of them, spending large amounts of money on your peace of mind. You never asked her for any of them, but she had offered, and you accepted them as gifts from the person you were coming to care for the most.

Diana came over on a night when a thunderstorm was rolling into town. So, it was a rough night for you since sudden noises still tended to make you fearful. She brought take-out, and set it up on the table right as the power decided to flicker out. The darkness arrived at the same time as the loud growl of thunder made it’s way over the city, entering into the ears of most of the population. But Diana had come prepared - she brought some candles out of her bag and with a box of matches, lit each one, the smell of warm pumpkin filling the room pleasantly. Especially fitting, since Autumn was coming upon you. She breathed in the smell and smiled, then joined you at the table.

The lightning followed not long after, but neither of you knew since just for tonight, Diana closed the blinds. “You should try some of this, it’s a new recipe,” She said, scooping food onto your plate.

“It looks good, thanks.” You said, smiling weakly. You pulled a throw blanket over your shoulders, tightning it around you for extra comfort. Diana moved her chair in closer, and put the blanket over her shoulders as well, then giggled at the look of surprise on your face.

“You are adorable.” She said, poking your nose then turned the attention to her own plate. You didn’t look away from her, admiring her face in the candlelight. Diana had absolutely gorgeous features that reflected the strength that she had. She wasn’t soft, though her skin begged to differ. “It is going to get cold,” She reminded you, pushing your plate closer to you. And then she noticed that you were staring at her, and smiled. “Are you okay?”

“Perfect,” You insisted. Your attention was so focused on her that you didn’t flinch when another loud peal of thunder came from the sky. She noticed that, and took it as amazing progress.

After dinner, the two of you curled up on the couch together. Without the television to keep your attention, the two of you started to talk about that night. You finally felt comfortable enough to talk about it, and you spilled your guts about how you had felt that night, how it affected you - things that Diana had suspected but which never had been said aloud. Why you were saying this now, you weren’t sure, but Diana had made you feel so comfortable, it all came up.

You exhausted yourself by releasing all of these emotions, but you felt relieved at the same time. You were ready to pass out when the thunder let out another bellow, the wind picked up and shook at your windows and the rain pelted down loudly.

“Here, rest.” Diana said, pulling you gently so that your head was on her lap. You let her guide you down, and put your head on her lap, a pillow there so you could be even more comfortable. It was easy to drift off into a peaceful sleep with her there, her fingers playing at your scalp, going through your hair.

Turns out there could be some heaven in this hell of a world after all.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Nothing like the present

Wizarding World AU please? Famous tattoo artist Bucky is doing his best to keep his secrets safe. The first being he is madly in love with Tony the baker in the little steampunk bakery across the street, who sings beautifully when he thinks no one is listening. The second being he's a wizard. Who may sometimes do magical tattoos for the magicking community. Little does Bucky know is that Tony is also a wizard who happens to be a very startling animagi. Please and thank you?

A/N: There is a lot going on in this prompt and I didn’t manage to fit everything in. I hope the prompter doesn’t mind.

Click here if you want to see what kind of animal Tony’s animagus is.

Chapter 1 /2 (on AO3 )

The harbingers of spring were already coming to the small town of Rosendale in upstate New York but the nights in early March were still icy cold and Tony felt like his paws were about to turn into ice clumps as he traversed the street and hopped gracefully on top of a garbage container. It was time's likes these that he wished his animagus would have taken a more cold-resistant form, something with thicker fur under his paws to protect his sensitive toe beans. ‘Toe beans’, Tony snorted - a weird sound when done as a cat - muggles and their memes. He didn’t know where that thought had come from and he pushed it aside, cold paws or not, he was on a mission.

Bucky Barnes’ birthday was on the 16th and Tony needed a present, a good one, a great one, a spectacular one even.

And he only had 10 days left.

Bucky was Tony’s neighbor who owned the small but popular tattoo parlor across the street from Tony’s bakery. Tall, dark, broody turning into shy once you got to know him and incredibly handsome with long brown hair and silvery eyes Tony could get lost in. Scratch that, had gotten lost in. Tony was utterly in love with his sweet and caring neighbor, had been since he had first heard Bucky laugh and those silver eyes had lit up with mirth. Unfortunately, it was a sound that was rarely heard in the town of Rosendale and Tony wanted to change that.

Unfortunate was also that fact that Bucky was a muggle and so Tony couldn’t just invite him into his bakery and put on a magic show, dish up some of Bucky’s favorite baked sweets for him on his birthday and make it a grand event with a cake that baked itself as the main course. He had to find a muggle present.

Maybe it was just the way Tony’s brain worked or maybe Bucky wasn’t just shy but also secretive but even though they’ve known each other for months now and talked almost daily, he couldn’t remember Bucky mentioning one thing that he liked, no hobbies, no TV shows, books, sports, all these muggle things that Tony knew off (and he knew a lot, partially due to the fact that he lived as the only wizard alone in a muggle town and you tended to stick out like a sore thumb if you didn’t know what the Super Bowl or an iPhone was and partially due to, well, being Tony and being naturally curious about absolutely everything).

So here Tony was, trying to figure out what hobbies Bucky had by sneaking into his house in his animagus form because who gets mad at a kitty walking around your house, right? It’s what cats do after all.

He spotted a small basement window that was maybe a foot tall and not much wider, certainly not big enough to fit an adult human through, but cat Tony would certainly fit and as luck would have it, the window was slightly ajar. Eager to get out of the cold and into the house Tony wasted no time to stick his head through the gap and wriggling the rest of his body after it, thanking evolution for the lack of collarbones. Gravity seemed to work differently for cats as well because he landed lightly on his feet on some dusty surface but that’s where his luck ended.

A subconscious flick of a tail and something tumbled to the ground producing a deafening crash and not a moment later the room was suddenly flooded with light and Bucky was standing in front of him.

Pointing a wand at him. —— Bucky had just finished his talk with Steve at the fireplace, one of the reasons he had never wanted a fireplace when moving to Rosendale in the first place. The thought of Steve or any of his other wizard friends trying to take the bus or -god forbid- an Uber to his place had convinced him, however. Anything to keep his friends away from the general Muggle population, or else he’d had to move again, and he didn’t want that, not after he had finally managed to settle. So Bucky put up with the calls and the occasional visit having a fireplace brought with it and it did have a few advantages. If he really needed to go to a wizarding shop he could do so easily and the few magical customers that wanted a tattoo from him had it easier as well.

Now he was getting ready for bed, massaging his left shoulder before throwing back the covers. Talking to Steve was exhausting, not as much physically - though sitting on the ground in front of the fireplace was getting to him too - it was the mental exertion that drained Bucky’s energy. Steve rarely showed interest in Bucky’s day to day life, his work or the friends he’s made in town, or his recent fame on Instagram. (”Instagram? Is that one of these weird metric measurements those Europeans use?” Steve had asked him when he had mentioned it, but what could you expect of a guy who thought muggles were only able to produce smartphones because they had imprisoned a wizard or witch somewhere.) It’s always the past for Steve, stories from before when they had both been Aurors, before Hydra.

Bucky shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts out of his head lest they turn into nightmares again.

When he heard the crash all of that was instantly forgotten as he apparated into the cellar to face the intruder. —— Tony blinked against the harsh lights and almost missed how Bucky put the wand away. It happened so fast that Tony wasn't even sure Bucky had been holding a wand at all. One moment he was moving his right hand like he was about to put his wand in his left sleeve, like lots of wizards and witches do, and the next moment it's gone. Except, Bucky isn't wearing a robe or anything with sleeves for that matter. Bucky was wearing a tank top that was showing of previously unknown tattoos on Bucky's shoulders and revealing the whole expanse of Bucky's muscular arms to Tony.

"It's just a fucking cat, Barnes, get it together." Bucky cursed and pushed his hair back with one hand, visibly shaken. He stood still for a moment, just breathing and staring at the floor, his eyes betraying the internal struggle his mind was fighting. Tony didn't even dare to flick his tail. After a while, he looked up and eyed Tony and then the open window above him.

"You squeezed through that, huh?" Bucky shook his head in amazement. "Were you looking for someplace warm? You don't look like you are made for the cold, you're someone's pet, huh? You're a graceful thing, though, quite adorable." Bucky took a step closer and before Tony knew it his cat instincts made him jump off the table and away from Bucky. The rational side of his brain protested once it had realized the mistake. Being petted by Bucky would have been amazing.

"Woah, didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to open up the window a bit more so you could get back out again if you want to." Bucky didn't come any closer, instead, he rested his chin in one hand and his elbow in his other and put on an adorable thinking face. The one he often wore when Tony went on a rambling streak too fast to follow. That face did things to Tony, plus that pose put Bucky's biceps on display like Tony would a particularly fancy cake in his bakery window.

Tony started to drool.

Literally.

It was a cat thing, nobody could blame him for that, but he did wonder why Bucky didn't wear sleeveless tops more often. It was a delicious sight. "You should probably stay indoor anyway in this weather. Don't want you freezing to death somewhere. This your first time outside?" Bucky looked at Tony like he was about to answer him then shrugged. "Probably better you found your way inside then..." He trailed off and looked around the room at the various shelves and cupboards. " I gotta have a box for you around here somewhere. You can hang out with me tonight and then I'll make some calls in the morning, see if anybody's missing you." Bucky walked over to an old antique wardrobe and stretched to get one of the boxes off the top, giving Tony a good view of his back. He noticed a fine silver line running across Bucky’s left shoulder that he hadn’t seen when he had been ogling Bucky’s biceps. Some kind of scar he reckoned, it looked unusual though as it appeared to be shimmering as Bucky moved about.

The most striking feature of Bucky’s back, however, wasn’t his muscles, despite being quite impressive, it was a tattoo that stretched over Bucky’s back and right shoulder. It was partially obscured by his tanktop but nevertheless, it was clear what it portrayed.

A white wolf howling at the moon.

Tony was mesmerized. It was so detailed it looked almost real.

If he weren’t in his cat form Tony would feel bad for staring but right now he was just enjoying the sight, memorizing every little detail as Bucky moved about and peered into boxes.

Bucky had never mentioned liking wolfs so it came as a surprise to see him having such a big tattoo of one on his back. It stood in stark contrast to his other tats which were mostly small and kept almost exclusively in black ink, like the scrawly handwriting on the inside of his right wrist that read “Till the end of the line” or the black widow spider dangling on a string on the inside of his elbow. Not to mention the tattoo sleeve that covered his left arm in gears and metal plates, while those also looked realistic and well done it was nothing compared to the wolf on Bucky’s back.

Tony decided to get a better look and sneak a little closer. To not make it too obvious that he was watching Bucky and that he wasn’t quite a normal cat, he padded around the room in a circle. He stuck his head into a few things to add to the illusion (and damn those cat instincts) and suddenly he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.

He glanced back to Bucky but the man had a box in his hand and was staring into it, mumbling something to himself before he closed the box back up and put it back on the wardrobe and took down another one. Bucky really was taking this box things serious but Tony did love a good box when he was a cat so he appreciated the effort.

But if Bucky wasn’t looking at him, why were was the fur on his back standing on edge? Tony was starting to get creeped out and that’s when he noticed it.

It was the wolf.

The wolf was looking at him. The wolf - the wolf tattoo was looking at him. He could have sworn the wolf had been howling at the moon. Tony seriously started to doubt his sanity right about now and wondered if he had drunk any hallucinogenic potions lately that still had an effect on him, but he had sworn off that stuff after he had accidentally turned Rhodey into a platypus while at the Academy and it had taken the headmaster and three high-ranking wizards from the Agency of Magical Mishaps two weeks to figure out how to turn him back. That couldn’t be it.

Except then the wolf tilted his head and regarded him curiously and yeah, the tattoo is actually moving. Of course, it is. It's not the first moving tattoo Tony has ever seen, he was a wizard for fuck's sake, and then it finally clicked in Tony's head.

Bucky had a magical tattoo. Bucky was a wizard.

BUCKY WAS A WIZARD! His mind was screaming at him. It hadn't been his imagination then earlier, Bucky really had had a wand. This was like winning the lottery as the muggles would say and he wasn't even consciously initiating the shift or thinking about any consequences. All he was thinking about was how he didn't have to keep his biggest secret from his best friend and secret crush and then —

"STUPEFY!"

Everything went black.

[quirklessbunny]

Bury Me

Day 2 of Whumptober: Explosions

This didn’t turn out quite the way I wanted to, but I’m trying not to get to far behind lol

Ch 1/? (Will probably be updated after October)

CW: Explosions, cursing/swearing, panic attacks, avalanches, exhaustion

Relationship: TodoDeku (only implied thus far)

Izuku is overjoyed when a trip to Switzerland is announced. They'll be learning skiing techniques that can help in snow rescues, should they ever find themselves needing them. In their last year of UA, it's the only thing left that Izuku thinks they need to learn. At least, for environmental rescues. His personal favourite was the back country hiking lessons, that was incredibly fun, and he can't imagine that back country skiing will be much different.

They're going to be put into groups for the trip. These groups, Aizawa explains, are for safety. They'll get more information when they arrive in Switzerland, but their groups will be posted early the next morning. Aizawa hands out information packets, then goes and flops down on the floor behind his desk, leaving them to read and talk amongst themselves.

Izuku smiles happily, turning to his friends. “This is amazing, we'll finally be able to say we're certified to rescue in any environment. One step closer to being the best heroes we can be,” he says, smiling wider. “And, I've heard that the teams in Switzerland are headed by the snow hero, Frost! He can control snow to an extent, and he usually uses it to slow avalanches to give civilians time to get away. I read that avalanches can move up to 130 kilometres an hour after only six seconds.”

“Yes, Midoriya, that is exactly why we need to learn the safest way possible to deal with back country snow rescues. Beacons and avalanche bags can only go so far in preventing deaths.” Iida smiles at him. “Leave it to Midoriya to already know about the lead rescuer. I have no doubt this trip will be both informative and fun.”

Izuku nods, smiling wider. That night, he double checks the packing list before putting his duffel together. He can't believe he will be meeting Pro Hero Frost, it's nearly a dream come true. A few years ago, he never would have guessed he'd be here now, but he's unbelievably proud of how far he's come.

With this certification, he's just one step closer to where he knows he can be. The number one Pro Hero slot is just calling his name.

Going to sleep that night is difficult, but he knows that sleeping will make it come even faster. The next morning, he crowds the bulletin board with the rest of the class, looking between the different posters for his name. 'Group 3: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijiro, Uraraka Ochaco'. Izuku lights up when he reads the listing. Three of his best friends. It's definitely going to make the activities twice as fun.

He wonders why they were selected this way, though. Is there something to do with their quirks that make them a particularly good set? He knows his speed would be a good in the event of an avalanche. He can move quickly, and it makes sense why he and Iida are on different teams. Theoretically, the heat from Katsuki's palms would help with unburying someone, but only cautiously, and with the hope that they don't accidentally trigger another avalanche or burn the victim. Ochaco would definitely be an asset, though it's still only theoretical, she could lift the snow away from large patches an assist in removing the snow faster, increasing the odds of the victim surviving. Eijiro's hardening quirk would also be amazing for digging.

“-ku. Deku. Deku!”

Someone yelling his name breaks through his thoughts, making him look up.

“H-huh? Sorry, Kacchan, I was just thinking.”

“Yeah, I know. We all know. We all <i> heard </i> what you were thinking about, Deku.” Katsuki gives him a slight smile, then shoves his hand against the side of Izuku's head. “It's a good thing you don't walk around thinking dirty thoughts, everyone would know just what kinks you're into, shitty nerd. Aizawa said we're all supposed to get into cars to head to the airport now, so go get your bag.”

“Oh thanks!”

The ride to the airport is short, and a bit of excited anxiety builds in Izuku's chest. This is actually happening, he thinks. It's amazing! He wants to sit next to Katsuki, but he flopped down with Eijiro, so he snags Shoto and pulls him to a set of seats with what should be a good view.  

“What do you think Frost is going to be like in real life? I always try to imagine meeting the pros but it's always different from what I think it will be like. For example, meeting All Might was kind of depressing. I mean, for a bit he wasn't really the guy I saw on tv, he spent a lot of time in his smaller form when speaking to me, but when he was All Might, he was everything I ever imagined he would be. I think Frost is going to be what the news reports say about him, but unless an avalanche happens, I doubt we'll get to see the full scope of his quirk. And I'd be alright with that, cause I don't want anyone to get hurt.”

Shoto hums in thought. “I dunno. I guess as long as he's not like my father, completely two faced, then he's pretty cool.” He likes Izuku's passion for heroes, even if he doesn't share it. He sets his hand on Izuku's and smiles slightly. “I'm going to nap for a little while, but I would like to hear what you have to say about Frost.”

Izuku smiles and nods. “Alright. It's a pretty long flight, we'll have plenty of time,” he says. It was almost 26 hours, from what he remembers. He's probably going to sleep as well. The itinerary says they'd land, head to the place they're staying, which was about an hour drive, and then they'd get to sleep for a while, since walking on avalanche terrain while exhausted isn't a good idea. Izuku practically plasters himself to the window as the plane takes off, eyes shining with excitement.

This is absolutely so cool!

And it is, for the first few hours of the flight. He watches All Might movies on the little screen affixed to the seat in front of him, he plays on his phone and reads a little. He even does his hand exercises, but it becomes incredibly boring. He's trying not to move too much, because Shoto's head is resting on his shoulder and he doesn't want to wake him.

Twelve hours into the flight Izuku is shifting every few moments, unable to disperse the energy coursing through him. He gets up and walks up and down the aisle of the plane, wringing his hands and muttering to himself about different heroes. A few people stop him to make sure he's alright and yes, he is. He just hasn't been on many planes before and long flights are hard on him.

He's sitting with his face pressed to the window when they enter Swiss airspace. He bounces a little in excitement, patting Shoto's arm quickly, then moving to patting his leg. “Look Sho, it's there, it's there,” he says happily, hand slapping down on Shoto's knee a little harder.

And Shoto smiles and nods, leaning over him to see as well. “Wow, it's beautiful,” he whispers, setting his chin on Izuku's shoulder.

Izuku blushes darkly, turning his head to look at Shoto. He's not used to that kind of contact still, but he relaxes into it and nods, looking through the window again.

“The Alps are supposed to be absolutely gorgeous. I can't wait to see them. The place we're going is near a small town, I hope we get to spend some time in it. I want to get a present for my mama and d- All Might.” Izuku smiles, face still pressed to the window during the entire landing. The excitement from before hits him full force again, and he's bouncing in his seat. He doesn't even feel tired, despite being awake as long as he has been. He gets off the plan, duffel slung over his back as he looks around at the little trinket shops in the airport.

Aizawa ushers them along quickly, they have a schedule to keep after all. He doesn't mind, he's more focused on what they're going to get to do next.

Izuku can't sit still in the bus, he's wiggling around and patting his own leg and Shoto's leg, trying to get some of the energy to disperse. He quickly finds that the excitement is almost overwhelming and breathing becomes a little hard. He turns to look at Shoto, eyes wide as his chest feels tight. He grips his leg, mind slowing.

It's too much, too much everything. He can't seem to breathe right. His hands feel foreign as he drags them over his face, pulling down on the skin of his cheeks. He thinks he can faintly hear someone talking to him, trying to get his attention.

He can't focus on the sound.

Everything feels muted as he gasps for air, his chest tight and uncomfortable. He scratches at his cheeks and wrists, wanting to ground himself, it's not helping. He closes his eyes tightly, tears flowing down his cheeks.

When he finally manages to breathe properly again, he can feel everyone's eyes on him.

He's so embarrassed, he hasn't worked himself up like that since he was a kid. He's had panic attacks, but this wasn't even that. Izuku assures everyone that he's alright, then turns to look out the window, hoping deeply that the topic is dropped.

The hotel coming into sight is a relief. He wants to drop into a bed and just sleep this off, now. Tomorrow will be better. When he has an actual objective, it's a lot easier to organize his thoughts to prevent himself from overloading like he just had. Izuku stands up and heads inside, waiting for their room assignments.

Bakugou Katsuki and Izuku Midoriya, room 18.  He takes his key and heads up to the room, dropping his bag by his bed and just flopping down. He's barely aware of someone else coming in as well before he's completely out.

The next morning, he heads downstairs and eats a quick breakfast with the rest of the class before they file into a room full of tables. Each spot has a backpack and a few different types of gear on it. The maps and compasses they already know how to use, but there's a weird electronic Izuku has never seen before. He doesn't touch anything yet, he doesn't want to screw anything up.

A few minutes after everyone settles down, Aizawa steps to the front.

“No one is going out on the snow today. Today we're learning how to use everything in front of you in a snow scape, how to put skis on, how to recognize an avalanche zone and the safest way to move across them, and more. I'm going to turn you guys over to Frost's assistants. I expect you to respect them more than you do me and give them your full attention. Remember that any wrong move in a snow scape could ultimately end with you killing the person you're trying to rescue. Don't let that happen.” Aizawa finishes speaking then walks to the back of the room, slumping down in a chair. This whole jet lag thing has him completely exhausted, Izuku thinks.

Izuku pulls out a notebook, looking up towards the front again. Two women are standing there, both dressed in what he assumes are their suits for rescues. In case of emergency, he guesses. He doesn't recognize either of them as pros, wondering if maybe they're underground pros like Eraserhead.

The class is long, but informative. Izuku has several pages of notes on the matter, and a full understanding of how to use all the equipment. That is, except for the skis. It's awkward to just stand in skis without snow, he thinks, but it's necessary so they can see everything that these skis do. They're shown how the breakaway works, then they're brought outside so they can practice a few different techniques in a safe zone.

Izuku is completely exhausted by the time the day is done. He sits at the table and slowly eats, legs exhausted in a way they never have been before. Not that he's complaining, it's a lot of hard work in the name of becoming a hero, but sometimes that hard work doesn't feel very rewarding. Like when his legs are aching and numb.

By the time he heads to bed, Katsuki is already asleep in the other bed. Not that he minds much, he's not interested in talking either. Not right now, anyway. He's too tired to stay awake. He collapses into bed, sleeping on top of the blankets once more.

When he opens his eyes again, he doesn't want to move. God, he's so sore, but he peels himself off the bed to shower. When he steps out, he starts to shiver a little bit. It's so cold here, he thinks. He hopes that Katsuki's quirk isn't messed up by this.

He'd desperately regret hoping that.

Breakfast is quick, no one eating as much as they really could, too excited to get out onto the snowpack again. The room is buzzing with excited talking as groups come together, snow gear and packs pulled on quickly.

Izuku just listens quietly as he clips his beacon onto his backpack. Frost brings them all back together, leading them outside and helping them put their skis on. After a quick safety speech, they're sent up into the snow.

Izuku slides forward, testing himself, then slides himself forward. “Alright, how do we want to walk? The person at the end is most in danger of getting swept off by an avalanche, so I think Ochaco or I would be the best option, since we both have the most chance of getting out of the way if it happens. We should also stay close, we don't want to lose one another.”

Katsuki hums in thought. “It would make sense if Eijiro were in front. His quirk would help for digging the best, and he should be out of the way. Ochaco after him, and then me, and then you. Ochaco can float herself and Eijiro if she has to, and I could probably propel myself up with you, but if the cold stops my quirk, then Izuku can run us out of the way. We'd each be paired up and not getting too far away from our partners.”

The others agree, and they head up the mountain.

Soon, Izuku's team is making their way through the practical part of the exam. They're doing a good job, digging up the mannequins and setting them on a 'medical square'.

At least it was going fine.

Until a villain appeared. One that Katsuki recognized immediately. “Hand job? I fucking...I fucking thought you got arrested forever ago,” he growls, sparks flying off his hands. “No worries, though, I'll put your ass right back behind those bars. It's where you belong.” He launches forward, snow flying up under his shoes. He sets off an explosion towards Tomura, knocking the creepy fuck backwards. A little down the mountain he hears a scream of his name.

A deafening crack startles him. It's like nothing he's ever heard before, and the ground below him crumbles and cracks, like a pane of glass. He panics, blasting himself up and way, further up the hill, before remember Izuku. He was below him on the mountain.

[kaycha1989]

The Right Partner

My Hero Academia Fic

Characters: Katsuki Bakugou, OC

Rating: Mature

Chapter 2

Bakugou was woken up the next morning by his cell phone ringing. “Who the hell…?” Bakugou grumbled as he rolled over in bed looking for the offending cell phone. Finding it, he opened one eye to see who dared to call him this early on his day off. “This better be good, Kirishima,” Bakugou answered the phone.

“Good Morning, Bakugou! How does breakfast on me sound?” Kirishima asked.

“Might as well, since you already woke me up,” Bakugou said glancing at his clock.

“Same old place?” Kirishima asked.

Bakugou grunted before ending the call.

Sitting up on the end of his bed, he stretched to ease the stiffness in his back and shoulders. Heading towards his dresser, he pulled out a pair of pants and a regular t-shirt. Making his way to the front door he pulled a red hoodie over his head before grabbing his keys and wallet as he left his apartment.

The café he and Kirishima usually met up at was only a short bus ride from Bakugou’s apartment. Walking through the front doors, he immediately picks out his red haired friend’s spiky head towards the back. Sitting down and pulling a menu out of the rack, Bakugou casually glanced at it. He already knew what he wanted, but he hoped it would deter Kirishima from wanting to talk too much.

“How’s it been going?” Kirishima asked. “Anything new happen?”

“Who told you?” Bakugou demanded not looking up from his menu.

“That you have a new partner? I heard it down the grapevine. Everyone places bets on how fast you scare them all off,” Kirishima told him.

“And you are here to get info so you can place your bet?” Bakugou accused.

“Aww, come on, man, you know me better than that!” Kirishima said feigning hurt. “I heard it’s a hero from America.”

“So, what of it?” Bakugou said, sitting up so the waitress could put a cup of coffee in front of him, black just like he liked it.

“Well what are they like?” Kirishima prodded, “You know having a partner isn’t all that bad. You should lighten up a bit and give it a chance. Jeanist went as far as to recruit someone from another country to find you a partner.”

“Tch, she is nothing special, just a pretty face with a nice smile,” Bakugou replied.

“Well, she must be something if you are giving her a compliment!” Kirishima smirked.

“Shut up,” Bakugou blustered.

“So, what is her name?” Kirishima asked.

“Wild-something,” Bakugou replied taking a sip of his coffee.

“Really? You can’t even remember her name?” Kirishima sighed. Pulling out his phone he started typing in the search engine.

While Kirishima was searching for info on his friend’s partner the waitress came over to take their orders. After Bakugou ordered Kirishima put his phone down and gave the waitress his order.  

“So, do you think she is the one?” Kirishima asked.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Bakugou snarled.

“Geeze, don’t get so defensive. I meant the right partner for you,” Kirishima replied.

“The hell if I know, I don’t need or want a partner. She will get tired of me and leave just like the rest of them,” Bakugou said taking another drink of his coffee.

“Ever the optimist…” Kirishima said sarcastically. It kind of sounds like he hopes she won’t leave, he thought to himself. Picking his phone back up, he realized it had finished downloading a site on current American heroes.

“You said Wild-something, right?” Kirishima asked. “Wait, it wasn’t Wildside was it?”

“That sounds about right,” Bakugou replied.

“Dude, she is a total babe!” Kirishima exclaimed. “How did an ass like you score a partner this hot?”

“Go die!” Bakugou replied looking out the window next to their booth.

“Hey, says here she is a singer and it looks like she does some modeling too,” Kirishima informed him as he scrolled down. “So when do I get to meet her?”

“Huh?” Bakugou said, looking back at his friend.

“Oh, come on, Katsuki, you gotta hook a bro up!” Kirishima slammed his hands on the table. “Just introduce me. That is, of course, unless you want her for yourself?” Kirishima questioned.

“LIKE HELL! The last thing I need is you nosing around after my partner!” Bakugou exploded.

“Geeze, ok ok, calm down dude, I get it!” Kirishima said with his hands up. “I still want to meet her though. I gotta make sure she is a good fit for my best friend.”

“Whatever,” Bakugou replied. The waitress brought their orders to the table and the two friends dug in, their conversation taking a backseat.

When Bakugou made it back to his apartment he, decided to take it easy the rest of the day and catch up on some episodes of his favorite TV shows. Tomorrow he would head to the agency to workout. He had a bunch of paperwork to get caught up on and he guessed that he better show his new partner where some of the other offices are in the building.

%%%%%

The next day, Bakugou headed into the agency early and ended up getting there at about 5:30 am, he liked coming in early because he usually got the gym to himself for a little while. He headed to the locker room and threw on his workout gear. Clipping his I-pod to his armband, he put in his earbuds and headed to the gym.

He was just about to head to the warm up mats when he noticed he wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the early morning. Great, there goes my quiet morning… he thought to himself. As he got closer, he realized it was Wildside. She was dressed in a pair of leggings and shorts with a long-sleeved shirt. Her hair was up in a bun and the cord to her earphones disappeared beneath her shirt. She was currently bent over, giving him a nice view of her backside.

“Are you going to stand there and stare, or say good morning?” she asked suddenly.

Startled, Bakugou snapped back, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I would think that was obvious,” she said, squatting down to stretch her leg muscles.

“Shut up.” Bakugou moved to the other side of the mat.

“Good morning to you, too, Bakugou,” she replied.

Starting his warm up stretches, he turned his back to her. Kia just moved into her next stretch, closing her eyes and focusing on the pull of her muscles.

After a few minutes she left Bakugou at the warm up mats and moved onto one of the treadmills. She figured she would start off with a long run. After a few minutes Bakugou moved to a treadmill five machines away from her and started his own workout.

Around 6 am, more heroes from the agency started filling into the gym. Ending her run, Kia moved her way over to the weight equipment, claiming one of the benches for her own. She started out with the usual curls before deciding to do a few reps on the bench press.

Bakugou watched her out of mild interest. He noticed of few of the other heroes watching her too.

Loading the bar with 150 pounds she started her first set of reps, but before she was finished, three guys walked over to her bench to introduce themselves.

“Hey there, you must be the new hero. You can call me Brawn,” the first one introduced himself. He was about the same height as Kia, but definitely beefy.

“And I’m Whiplash,” the second said.

“You can call me Shirokage,” said the third.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Wildside,” Kia introduced herself, bowing her head a little.

“That’s a lot of weight for a pretty thing like you. I could spot you if you wanted,” Brawn offered.

“Thanks, but I can handle it,” Kia replied with a smile. Ignoring his remark, she stood up and headed to the weight rack to add another 100 pounds to the bar.

“You sure that’s not too much for you?” Whiplash asked her, moving closer.

“I’m sure,” Kia said, sitting back down on her bench and doing another set with the added weight.

Bakugou had ended his run and moved to a bench a little ways off from Kia’s.  He could hear what the other heroes were saying.

After Kia finished her set, she sat up and reached for her water bottle only to have Brawn snatch it up to hand it to her.

“So you’re pretty strong. Have you been assigned a partner yet?” Brawn asked.

“Yes, I officially start work tomorrow,” Kia said standing up to put more weight on the bar.

“Too bad… I wouldn’t have minded being your partner,” Brawn continued.

“Well, I guess it’s your loss then, huh?” Kia replied.

“I have an idea,” Brawn started. “How about you and I have a lifting competition? If I win, you go on a date with me.”

“And if I win?” Kia asked.

“Anything you want, Kitten,” Brawn replied giving her a slight slap on the ass.

Bakugou saw his new partner’s expression darken.

“Anything?” Kia asked.

“Yep, anything,” Brawn replied, not noticing the anger radiating of the heroine.

“Promise?” Kia asked, looking at him through her eyelashes and smiling sweetly. Bakugou noticed that her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Of course, Kitten,” Brawn replied again.

“I will hold you to it,” Kia smiled.

Sitting on the bench next to hers Brawn started getting ready to lift.

“What weight are you at now?” Whiplash asked Kia, as he started bringing weights over to Brawn’s bench.

“250,” Kia replied. “Does that work for you?” she asked Brawn.

“Yep, how about we each do five reps before adding more weight?” Brawn asked her.

“That works for me,” Kia replied.

The two heroes lay down on their benches and prepared to start. Both easily made five reps.

“How much weight do you want to add?” Shirokage asked.

“What would you like, Kitten?” Brawn asked.

“I usually increase my weight by 100 pounds with each set,” Kia replied.

Brawn blinked a bit before turning to his friends. “You heard her.”

With the increased weight on the bars, both heroes easily did five reps.

“Another 100,” Brawn said glancing over at Kia.

Again, both heroes did five reps with ease. By now, other heroes had stopped their own workouts to watch the two. All except Bakugou, who had lost interest and was going through his own workout routine. They kept adding more and more weight, Kia easily keeping up with Brawn. Soon the weight was at 950 pounds. Brawn looked over at Kia but she just smiled sweetly. Another five reps, another 100 pounds, Brawn was beginning to sweat.

“Are you sure about this, Kitten?” Brawn asked nervously.

“Absolutely,” Kia replied, getting a good grip on her bar.

Brawn brought his own bar down and back up four times but struggled with the fifth before finally setting the bar back on its holder.

Kia gave Brawn another smile as she easily finished her reps. Whiplash and Shirokage added another 100 pounds to each bar. Brawn went first, getting through the first two reps before struggling with the third. On the fourth rep he started losing his grip and three heroes had to step in and help him put the bar back on its hanger. Everyone look over at Kia.

“You only have to do 4 reps and you win,” Whiplash told her.

Smiling, Kia laid back on her bench. Hefting the bar off its holder, she finished all five reps. Cheers erupted around the two benches. Standing up, Kia walked over to Brawn’s bench bending over to look him in the eyes.

“You should learn to keep your hands to yourself… and nobody calls me Kitten,” she told him with a lot of bite in her tone.

“Yes ma’am,” Brawn replied.

“Now, about my winnings…” Kia said with a smirk.

“What would you like me to do?” Brawn asked with a gulp.

Looking around Kia noticed her new partner doing curls with his back to the group. Bakugou had put his earbuds in and cranked the music up to drown out any other noise. Smiling she leaned in close to whisper in Brawn’s ear.

“Ok and who is your partner?” Brawn asked.

Smiling, Kia pointed over to Bakugou. “Ground Zero”

Brawn paled and the people close to Bakugou started moving away from the unaware hero.

“I’m sorry, is there anything else you would have me do?” Brawn pleaded.

“No, I think this will really make you reflect on your actions,” Kia replied.

Trembling, Brawn stood up and made his way over to Bakugou. The other heroes stood back waiting to see what Kia had told the losing hero to do. Bakugou’s back was still towards Brawn when the hero reached him. Raising his hand back, Brawn slapped Bakugou on the ass just as he had done to Kia.

Bakugou froze mid curl. Setting down his weights and taking out his earbuds, he turned around to find a trembling Brawn. After glancing up at Kia, who was having trouble not laughing, Bakugou said, “So you lost huh?”

“S-sure d-did K-Kitten.” Brawn stammered out.

Bakugou literally exploded.

Ch 1 | Ch 2| Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10 | Ch 11 | Ch 12 | Ch 13 | Ch 14 | Ch 15 | Ch 16 | Ch 17 | Ch 18 | Ch 19 | Ch 20

[strmyweather]

one foot in front of the other, babe / one breath leads to another, yeah / just keep moving

I’m in the homestretch of my training for the New York City Marathon; the race is a little over five weeks away. Honestly, I sort of can’t believe I’m saying that -- because it seems like just a minute ago there were multiple months stretching out before me like the Great Dismal Swamp (which is an actual place) -- but now I’m realizing that there’s actually a faint light emanating from the end of this endurance tunnel. Somehow, I’ve only got four more ‘long runs’ left before the taper.

This is marathon number six for me, which might give the impression that the process is old hat by this point, but that would be thoroughly untrue. There have been a ton of ‘moving parts’ this time around, physically, mentally, and nutritionally -- maybe more so than ever before -- and I’m definitely due to set some of it down on paper. I had intended to do regular updates every couple of weeks as the training progressed, but (surprise, surprise) never actually managed to do so -- meaning this will probably be another of my infamous ten-page missives. So… pour another cup of coffee and strap in.

Back Story

I have a rather long and karmically-entangled history with the NYC Marathon. I was never a runner in adolescence -- swimming was my sport -- but took it up gradually during my senior year of college, mostly because my roommate nudged me into accompanying her on a couple of races of various distances. When we graduated and I no longer had easy access to a pool, I started doing road races and triathlons regularly, almost by default -- at that point in my life, I needed something concrete to train for in order to ensure that I remained consistently physically active. I gradually built up to marathon distance, starting with the Marine Corps Marathon in 2008, and although I entered the NYC lottery more than once, I was never selected.

In 2012, I finally just bit the bullet and bought a charity slot for NYC. Thanks largely to my PA classmates, I successfully raised 100% of the money (!) -- but those of you playing the home game may recall that 2012 was the year of Superstorm Sandy, and that the NYCM was therefore canceled that year for the first and only time since its inception. (I was literally ON THE BUS from Philadelphia to New York when the verdict came down.) Along with most of the field, I deferred my entry to 2013 -- and ended up with a stress fracture in my foot. Thoroughly annoyed, I deferred again, to 2014 -- and, a month into training, promptly sustained a stress fracture in the OTHER foot. (Pretty sure that’s what the kids call #facepalm.) However, by then I was out of deferrals, and I sure hadn’t raised that $2500 for nothing, so I adapted a CrossFit Endurance-style training plan to keep my fitness at a reasonable level while avoiding anything involving repetitive impact. Three weeks before the race, I was cleared to run.

So I did. My longest training run was five miles. It was by far my slowest marathon. It wasn’t the race I’d envisioned, to say the least. But I finished it.

That was supposed to be it. The end. The closing of a chapter. Yet somehow, every year, I have consistently managed to end up in New York City on marathon weekend. Typically, I’m just there visiting friends or seeing shows -- but this past year, it was because a dear friend of mine from the Netherlands was running the race herself. And, reliving that experience from the fringes last November -- walking around the expo with thousands of excited runners, dashing around Manhattan with my friend’s husband to try to catch a glimpse of her at various mile markers, standing on the sidelines cheering with my camera at the ready -- well, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me wish I were running myself.

So, on the spur of the moment, I threw my name in the hat, for the fifth time in ten years. And then promptly forgot about it.

...Until the evening of February 28, 2018 -- when my mind was entirely occupied by Week 2 of the CrossFit Open -- and my phone suddenly beeped with an alert for ‘Unfamiliar Credit Card Charge’.

Over the coming minutes, my initial alarm changed to confusion -- then, as the realization dawned, to equal parts shock, excitement, and dread.

Oh, shit. What had I done?

Fast-forward another seven months or so, and here we are.

Physically

The metaphor I keep using is that I feel like I’ve been driving a 4-cylinder automatic transmission for the past decade and am suddenly being asked to master a stick-shift Maserati. That’s not to say that I’m any kind of speed demon in the grand scheme of things, just that I have a much larger number of ‘gears’ than I used to. I spent a solid decade doing ‘long slow distance’ in various forms prior to discovering CrossFit in 2012, but back then, I was basically either running or walking (or crawling!) -- there wasn’t much of an in-between option. Nowadays, I’m much stronger, faster, and lighter than I used to be -- all good things! -- but this kind of training also utilizes an energy system that we just don’t routinely tax to the same degree in CrossFit, and it takes time (and mileage) to get comfortable with that. Therefore, much to my dismay, I’m having to become intimately familiar with the feel of a ‘threshold’ pace -- a.k.a. the place where I’d LIKE to slow down, but don’t objectively NEED to slow down in order to complete a given work requirement. This is occasionally validating on the back end when I review my split times -- never could’ve imagined a day where I ‘accidentally’ hit an 8:15 mile IN THE MIDDLE of a long run! -- but also inevitably involves some ‘overshooting’, a.k.a. those sessions where I come out of the gate too hot, hit a wall after two miles, and spend the remainder of the time feeling like death. Yet, slowly but surely, I’m starting to internalize how it feels to run at an 8-minute pace, vs an 8:30 or 9:00 or 9:30 pace. There are two processes happening simultaneously -- physically training my body to run faster, and mentally training my ‘sixth sense’ to learn how to calibrate a pace that can be held for MANY miles, not just two or three.

I’ve learned a couple of interesting things about myself so far, including that, on a physical level, I am inherently a more aerobic athlete (read: not a power athlete). This had already become apparent in recent months via barbell performance -- I can use a pretty high percentage of my max with decent form for a lot of reps, but tend to struggle in terms of getting my actual one-rep maxes to move upward. It turns out I’m similar with regard to running -- I can hold a ‘moderate’ pace for a relatively long time (on one of my earliest long runs, I averaged 8:54 across seven miles and felt pretty great the whole way), but, as above, I’m learning that ramping that pace up even just a little bit past the sweet spot will quickly lead to a major crash and burn. However, I suppose I’d prefer to be built this way, as opposed to the alternative -- and one silver lining is that, since my 10-rep maxes are a lot closer to my 1RMs than they have any right to be, my working weights on the current (muscular-endurance-focused) weightlifting cycle haven’t had to drop down SO far as to make me sad. :)

In terms of programming, at my request, we are continuing to prioritize my CrossFit fitness, just with a necessarily heavy slant toward endurance and bodyweight strength. Running isn’t my primary sport and isn’t going to be; my goal is simply to ‘complete’ this marathon in relatively good shape -- to stay healthy as possible throughout the training, to feel strong for the majority of the event, to soak in and thoroughly enjoy the atmosphere of such a special race, to crush several very large piles of food afterward (first stop: milk bar!) -- and then immediately jump back into ‘normal’ CrossFit training. A new PR would be a bonus -- and I do think it’s well within my abilities -- but I also won’t be too upset if it doesn’t happen; I’m playing the long game here, and I’m much more concerned with retaining muscle mass and overall fitness than with earning the fastest possible marathon time.

This all means that my actual ‘mileage’ is relatively minimal -- which is good for me, both in terms of personal preference and due to the fact that my feet are typically the part of me that ‘breaks’ first when subjected to high volume. (Other CrossFitters have wonky shoulders or knees; my own personal Achilles’ heel -- pun intended --  has always been my feet.) I started out having weekly long runs programmed on Sunday mornings and two-a-day sessions on Wednesdays (light CrossFit in the morning + running speedwork at the track in the evening). However, I promptly sustained a (mild) foot injury in the third week of increasing speed mileage (#typical). This led to us changing the sprints over to the rower and assault bike -- so now, with five weeks to go, my only true running is the long Sunday-morning piece. However, almost everything else I’m doing supports those sessions by having taken a sharp turn towards aerobic capacity and bodyweight strength. My ‘metcon’-style work these days is usually ridiculously long and pretty boring -- think anything that taxes the legs: biking and rowing mixed with long light high-rep sets of wallballs, thrusters, air squats, deadlifts -- but I’ve just had to accept that. (I halfheartedly complained at one point early on, and Coach shrugged and said matter-of-factly, “Well, it’s either this or more running,” so I immediately buttoned my lip!) :)

This brings me to...

Mentally

Going in, I tried to keep a semi-open mind -- after all, I did this for a solid decade prior to CrossFit; this could turn out to feel like a refreshing break for me. It might even be exciting to do something a little different for a while. No such luck, though; I’m actually finding this type of training to be tremendously more mentally fatiguing than regular CrossFit, for two main reasons.

First (and most obviously) -- compared to barbells and handstand push-ups and ‘three-two-one-go’, endurance training is just LONG and BORING. There have certainly been a few gratifying moments -- ‘accidentally’ running a sub-27-minute 5k during training, crushing 3000 calories in a day, realizing I’ve somehow become that girl who truly is most comfortable running in just a sports bra (who even AM I?!?). But it simply isn’t where my heart is. In hindsight, I’m pretty sure the only way I was able to convince myself that I ‘liked’ this for so many years is because back then I wasn’t physically ‘training’ so much as giving myself a forced MENTAL break -- shoving in my headphones, zoning out, letting my mind wander. Fast paces were things that occasionally ‘happened’ on days when I felt good, not things that I could deliberately strive for. As I mentioned above -- turns out it’s a whole different ball game (and a lot more mentally taxing) when you’re actually TRAINING at a prescribed intensity level and staying attuned to keeping yourself there.

And secondly, this type of training is a lot more isolating than I had bargained for -- both physically and mentally. Gym-wise, I knew it wouldn’t be fun to watch other people crushing their CrossFit goals while I sat on the assault bike plugging away at another hour-long conditioning piece… but I was at least somewhat mentally prepared for that part. What’s been harder has been the (many, many) hours when I’m NOT in the gym. Getting up at 4:00am to cover a dozen miles in the dark before work is not much fun, nor is forcing myself to drive to the track at 7pm after I’ve worked a full clinic day and just want to go home to bed. It’s also tough to feel as though nobody in my life can relate to both this odd set of obligations AND the (even odder) accompanying headspace -- after all, most endurance athletes choose this method of training because they genuinely enjoy it. And -- to add insult to injury -- because the repetitive pounding beats my body up in a whole new way, it means I have to be hyper-focused on recovery (I’m getting to that!)... which then FURTHER detracts from time that I could be spending training in a way that I DO actually enjoy.

Training is generally my favorite part of any given day, because I usually find it validating and motivating just by its own nature. So, lately, it’s been frustrating and demoralizing -- and, frankly, a little frightening -- to feel such a major piece of my life evolving into a chore. I’ve certainly completed marathons on far less training than this (albeit a lot more slowly and painfully), so there have been many moments when it’s been hard to stare down the gun barrel of WHAT DO YOU MEAN TEN MORE WEEKS (or however long). However, I’m trying to remain cognizant of the fact that this is temporary -- and that, the better-prepared I am for the marathon, the less of a toll it will take on my body -- and therefore, the faster I can jump back into the stuff I really love.

This brings me to…

Recovery

I'm being extraordinarily careful about prioritizing my recovery, in part because, with endurance training, problems tend to show up LATER rather than declaring themselves in the moment. Aches and pains tend to be related to overuse, rather than to any kind of obviously-pinpointable injury, which makes them more slippery and insidious -- and therefore more difficult to prevent (until the horse is already out of the barn, that is). This is not my first rodeo with regard to distance running -- I've completed five marathons, over a dozen half marathons, and quite a few triathlons -- so I’m well aware of this dynamic by now. I had a bone deformity in one of my feet as a teenager, and although it’s been corrected, I've still had the pleasure over the years of dealing with shin splints, Achilles tendinitis, severe plantar fasciitis, and two metatarsal stress fractures. The latter is the worst-case scenario for any runner -- because by the time you 'feel' a stress fracture, it's already too late. That’s exactly where I’ve ended up during two of my previous marathon training attempts -- and is a place that I’ve been valiantly trying NOT to revisit.

Knock on wood, this training program has kept me considerably healthier overall than any of my previous attempts (not coincidentally, it’s also been the plan with the smallest weekly run mileage!). As I mentioned, I did end up with a mild foot injury a couple of weeks ago (nothing ‘specific’ enough for a true diagnosis; my left foot/ankle just got ‘angry’ through the retinaculum and the lower segment of the tibialis anterior) -- but it was definitely a soft-tissue problem this time, nothing bony, and responded well to a couple of weeks off running, some RockTape, a better-fitting pair of shoes, and a couple sessions with the PT and the bodywork guru at my gym (both of whom I’m seeing about twice a month for dry-needling, cupping, taping, and various other ‘hurts so good’ interventions!). My coach and I are perfectly in line with our opinions on this, which is that -- if we have to choose -- it’s vastly preferable for me to reach the start line healthy and perhaps slightly underprepared, versus crush every mile of the training and then be in pain from the first five minutes on the day when it actually matters.

Honestly, I am feeling incredibly well-supported in terms of the team I have around me -- more so than I have been maybe EVER, athletically speaking -- and so (general saltiness aside) I’m actually managing to stay pretty calm, even during the acute injury phase. First, because it always feels like a small miracle to be able to lie down on the therapy table with legitimate pain, and then stand up a little while later with it having essentially vanished (!) -- but second, because of the sheer emotional comfort that lies in the knowledge that (for once in my life) I actually don’t have to worry about EVERY little thing, that ‘other people are taking care of’ some pieces of this puzzle. The three of them are all aware of ‘where I’m at’ physically, and are in communication as far as what they think is best for me, which is such a gift. Just the awareness of that support network provides me with a huge amount of reassurance -- AND additional motivation to ‘do my best for them’, after all the time and energy they’re investing in me. (The first time she dry-needled the injured area, the PT bade me farewell after the session with the admonishment, “Don’t f*ck up my good work.”)

Unrelated: one other thing I’ve found useful for recovery purposes has been my new Garmin watch (Fenix 5S). It’s definitely not a hundred percent accurate -- it’s very much an endurance watch and thus has absolutely no idea how to interpret regular CrossFit most of the time, so it occasionally tells me my weekly training load is ‘light’ or that my performance condition is ‘peaking’ when that is BLATANTLY FALSE -- but in terms of things like heart rate, daily stress level, and sleep quality, it’s fascinating to see numerical data that backs up my own internal gauges, and it’s admittedly also been pretty helpful nutritionally in terms of calorie burn estimates (I’m getting to that!). And although it’s apt to underestimate my effort output at times, there are other times when it keeps me honest; on one memorable occasion, my coach sent me a new month’s worth of programming, and I saw that my long Saturday metcons had been dropped in favor of more movements that were labeled as ‘for quality’ or ‘not for time’. This is the sort of stuff I tend to find ‘boring’, and I groaned internally as I made a note to ask her why she’d done that. However, before we even had a chance to discuss it, I completed my first Friday session on the new plan (over 60 straight minutes of biking, rowing, wallballs, lunges, running, and air squats, if you’re curious!) -- and as soon as I clicked my stopwatch off, Garmin popped up with a cheery little note: “Recovery Time 45 Hours / Easy Effort Recommended.”

Well then. As usual -- it seems Coach knows what she’s doing!

Awesome support crew and techie gadgets aside, a few other essential recovery things: -- compression socks or calf sleeves for the 24 hours following a long run -- supplements: vitamin D, krill oil, zinc/magnesium/B6, probiotics, vitamin C -- a consistent 9-9:30pm bedtime -- Epsom salt baths after the heaviest leg days -- tart cherry juice in my workout shake (helps reduce inflammation) -- and doing my best to NEVER be in a calorie deficit (more on this below).

Which brings me to...

Nutritionally / Fueling

One enormous and unexpected side benefit of this whole process is that I’ve had to become much more flexible and forgiving with regard to food. (This is something that definitely needed to happen, but I just couldn’t really foresee exactly how I was going to get there!) I’ve been following Renaissance Periodization for 18 months now (cut #1, short maintenance, cut #2, long maintenance, third/SHORT cut, now currently on maintenance again), and it has done phenomenal things for me (which is why I’ve stuck to it so rigidly until now); however, the origins of the program lie in weightlifting and strength training. To their credit, RP has put forth a lot of effort recently to try to tailor their approach to make it work for endurance training, and I definitely found their tools to be a pretty useful starting point in terms of calculating carb recommendations for long run days -- but I also learned that the math could really only carry me so far. A standalone long run is one thing, but it gets trickier when I’ve got (for example) a day with two training sessions, or a workout that’s maybe only an hour long but is almost entirely composed of sprints, or one of those super long Fridays where my ‘metcon’ is 60-100 minutes of work at “70% effort”. The bottom line is, at some point, you just have to take the toolbox you’ve got, start experimenting, and figure out what works for your body.

I’ve said before that I think one of the official RP hashtags should be #alwayslearning, and this training cycle has been no exception! While I obviously knew I would need more carbs/calories on long run days, I did NOT expect for the caloric demand to increase ACROSS THE BOARD as much as it did. It didn’t present as traditional ‘hunger’, so I didn’t recognize the ‘deficit dynamic’ at first -- but after a couple of great weeks initially, my performance and general well-being started to fall off around the 4-week mark. I wasn’t sleeping well, was feeling generally moody and anxious, and my long run paces were significantly slower than they had been up until that point. I also knew the scale had been running rather low, in the 138s-139s. However, none of this by itself was THAT far out of the range of ‘normal’, so it took me a week or two to put it all together. The larger picture didn’t fully click until, independently of one another, two separate CrossFit coaches (both of whom I’d only known for a month!) asked me if I had lost weight. That finally prompted me to look back at my daily scale trends, and I realized that my ‘maintenance’ was not actually maintenance; I’d slowly lost about two pounds over the course of the first month of endurance training.

Now, while two pounds is obviously not a tremendous amount of weight, this was still a super important phenomenon to identify and address, because in my case, it would NOT be beneficial for me to get any smaller right now. From a general health and performance standpoint, I’m already right where I need to be (my DEXA scan in July measured me at 17% body fat), which means that losing weight would fly directly in the face of ALL my goals: not just day-to-day performance and recovery, but also muscle retention. Muscle is a heavy and metabolically demanding tissue, so the body doesn’t want to hang onto more of it than it truly NEEDS -- so it’s one of the first things to go during heavy endurance training (ever checked out the physique of a Kenyan marathoner?). Since my primary goal is to preserve CrossFit fitness and performance, the last thing I want to do is sacrifice my hard-earned muscle on the altar of marathon training.

Another SUPER important facet to all of this is hormonal health -- which, unfortunately, seems to be one of those things to which I’m more sensitive than some other women. During the past 18 months of intermittent cutting, my body has shown me repeatedly that it haaaaaates being in an energy deficit (and that it will respond to this by promptly grinding my reproductive cycle to a halt for MONTHS). And while I don’t necessarily love everything about the monthly cycle, it’s an inescapable fact that estrogen is one of the best defenses I have against all this repetitive pounding on my feet. As I mentioned, I already have a history of two prior metatarsal stress fractures, both sustained during marathon training -- therefore, I absolutely need my biochemistry to hang in there this time around!

At any rate, in hindsight, I’ve been playing this RP game long enough now that I felt pretty stupid for not recognizing the ‘deficit phenomenon’ sooner. Once the light bulb came on, I started increasing calories, mostly carbs (amid a lot of jokes about my need for ‘supplemental frozen yogurt’); this immediately made performance feel much better and got my run paces back to the range where they needed to be. I’ve learned that 200g carbs seems to be the absolute minimum on a training day (and on most days it’s significantly more!), and that even on rest days I need a few more carbs (for recovery purposes) than my templates officially prescribe. However, it eventually turned out that in order to truly stabilize my weight (and to stop waking up hungry at two o’clock in the morning!), I ultimately had to slightly increase my training day fats as well. As we got deeper into the training plan and my sessions got longer, I also had to tweak my pre- and intra-workout strategies to figure out how best to fuel for a longer time duration (it’s not unusual nowadays for my Friday gym workouts to take over three hours -- meaning my regular fruit juice and whey shake alone simply isn’t sufficient) and/or what types of things I prefer to carry and consume while I’m out running. (On the plus side, my iron gut serves me well here; many runners suffer GI distress related to intra-workout nutrition, but it turns out there’s not a whole lot that I can’t tolerate!)

I’m definitely still tweaking and refining -- it (unfortunately!) isn’t as easy as just stuffing my face round the clock, because GAINING weight right now obviously wouldn’t be ideal either -- but I’m learning a ton, and, equally important, am also learning how to relax a little. My modus operandi for just about everything in life is that I tend to dive in at 120% enthusiasm, then have to slowly work my way back to a place of more moderation, and RP has been no exception. But this endurance training cycle has really forced me to try some different things as well as be a bit less rigid in general -- i.e. more willing to eat ‘combination’ foods (that don’t fall squarely into one macro category), and even to dine out in restaurants once a week or so. (Exhibit A: the best free meal I’ve had recently was a fried green tomato biscuit from Rise, when I did my long ten-mile run on a Sunday morning and then met up with two other runner friends for breakfast. LOOK AT THAT HEALTHY BALANCED RP MAINTENANCE LIFE. :)) Additionally, the necessity of (on many Sundays) fitting a homemade high-carb meal in between an early-AM long run and a full day of work means I’ve also learned how to make certain things in such a way that I actually enjoy them just as much as (or even more than!) the restaurant versions. For example, Aldi’s frozen sushi is surprisingly awesome, a home-assembled burrito bowl is totally on par with Chipotle, and (for me) a flatbread pizza in the toaster oven really does satisfy a pizza craving. I’m reaching the point where (MOST) food just isn’t really that exciting anymore -- which is actually a pretty great (mentally healthy) place to be.

Unintentional weight loss is one of those things that sounds like a #firstworldproblem to a lot of people -- and in another scenario, I can see how it could be! -- but honestly, I’m grateful to have experienced this ‘problem’, because the necessity of tackling it has been a pretty big eye-opener. This whole process has required a new level of intuition -- less straightforward following of a numerical macro chart, and more paying attention to my body’s physical, mental, and emotional cues. If I’m feeling ridiculously tired and depleted after a long workout (even if I don’t feel obviously ‘hungry’), or if I’m noticing that my hand ‘wants’ to flash out and grab the frozen yogurt when I open the freezer, then I probably need more carbs. If I wake up hungry at 2:00am, I probably didn’t eat enough fat that day. And, when eating foods I didn’t ‘plan’ for, it’s been validating to see that what often feels to me like a ‘crackout’ is usually just my body trying to maintain homeostasis. During the first few weeks of trying to sort through all this ‘data’, there were several occasions where I ate a larger-than-normal amount of something (usually the better part of a pint of frozen yogurt...) that I didn’t necessarily ‘plan’ to have. Each time, I fretted guiltily for a few minutes -- then did the actual macro/calorie math in the context of that morning’s workout and realized that my body had done EXACTLY what it was supposed to do, almost to the point of being eerie (as in, I worked for X minutes longer than last week, and today’s calories worked out to be X amount higher than last week -- without any intentional effort on my part to make it so. Biology is pretty neat). On some level, I do still ‘expect’ myself to self-sabotage -- and maybe always will expect that to some degree -- but these past couple months have reinforced to me yet again that my body truly does ‘know what it needs’ most of the time, and that I can actually ‘trust myself’ on a gut level a lot more than I tend to believe I can on a cerebral level.

What’s Next

We’re not quite tapering yet, but getting close. Tomorrow is my peak-length metcon -- by my reckoning, that portion alone is going to take about 95-100 minutes (!). But after tomorrow, Fridays will get somewhat shorter; the metcon portion will probably only take 20-30 minutes or so for the remainder of this cycle (and I’m laughing out loud at the fact that that genuinely sounds like a SHORT metcon to me now!). My long runs on Sundays will continue to build for another 3-4 weeks; the programming is written in ‘minutes’, not miles, and we lost some time because of the foot injury, but my rough calculations would suggest that I’ll make it to about 14-15 miles (on October 21st) before the two-week taper. (Which, yeah, is a bit shorter than ideal, but as I said above -- better 15 and healthy than 20 and broken.)

November 4th is the big day. I’m so, so ready to be done with this training, yet (I’ll admit) am also getting something of a ‘second wind’ mentally now that the end is finally in sight. And while I have no plans to ever (EVER) do another marathon after this one, I’m also not so jaded that I can’t recognize how very grateful I’ll be, come race morning, for all the blood, tears, and sweat (SO MUCH SWEAT) that I’m putting in right now.

In 38 days (38 days!), this will all be worth it.