#does anyone else ever just accidentally hit print instead

[cosychans]

I almost accidentally printed out a picture of lee minho and it would have been disastrous 

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 4:

You’re paranoid. 

Terribly, terribly paranoid, and even if you’re aware of it, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Nothing you can do to quell the anxiety that wells up every time another person enters your space. Every time their skin nearly brushes yours, even accidentally, just for a split second.

It’s maddening. Nearly debilitating the way you’re flinching away from people. You can see your co-workers notice too, fellow nurses suddenly giving you odd looks every time you reject a high five. Even when you’re wearing your gloves. It’s just a panic reaction at this point- a fixation on trying to keep your quirk as least exhaustive an experience as it can be. 

On one hand, you still really dislike Bakugou- nearly hate him for bringing it up to you- but, on the other hand, he did manage to figure it out. He somehow managed to figure out what you never could, and all in a matter of minutes from your relatively short interactions. It made you think that maybe he could be really smart- if he didn’t spend so much time killing his own brain-cells with every juvenile insult he spewed at you. 

You wondered if that was just him, or he really did hate you that much. Surely he couldn’t be that much of a monster to other people, right? Right? 

Wrong. 

You remember Kirishima, how he apologized for Bakugou nearly the second he walked through the door. It hits you then that you’re definitely not the first person he’d seemed to mercilessly terrorize- you’re not sure if that makes you feel better or worse.

Actually, on second thought, maybe it makes you feel worse. No, it definitely makes you feel worse. So much worse, in fact, that just the sight of his face nearly sends you into an irrational rage. Even now, weeks after the last time he’d personally ruined your day, you were still mad. Still angry. Still cursing every time you saw those red eyes on every billboard, newspaper, and billboard in town.

Well, lucky for you, you didn’t have to look at those printed eyes anymore. Not when the real ones were right in front of you- scaring you shitless as you leave the hospital. 

You had left the hospital from the back exit, tired and crabby from your late shift, grumbling as you stepped out into the alleyway. You’d hardly seen him, just the slightest glimpse of movement behind the tall dumpsters, before he’s practically in your face.

“Jesus!” You gasp, curling your arms around your stomach. Your legs feel like jelly. “Don’t do that! Scared me half to death!”

“Oh, chill the hell out, ya fuckin’ baby. You’re fine.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, falling into step next to you.

He looks worse for the wear, just like every other time you’ve seen him, exhaustion coloring his complexion something sickly. There’s an angry purple bruise covering his cheek, a few cuts, and even more bruising dotting his scarred knuckles. A tiny, vindictive part of you thinks it serves him right, but you keep it to yourself. You’re better than that.

You want to be nice to him, truly you do, but he’s made it pretty hard. Concerning you, Bakugou’s pretty much dug his grave at this point, and he only makes it worse with his next works.

“You need to do something for me.” He orders suddenly. “Now.”

“A-are you asking me? For help? Is that what this is?”

“What? No- obviously fucking not.” He sneers, nostrils flaring. “Why the hell would I go and do something like that. That’s stupid. Weak.”

“Oh. Okay. So then two seconds ago, when you were telling me that I ‘need’ to do something for you, what was that?” You squint your eyes at him, eyebrow twitching with annoyance. “That wasn’t you asking for help?”

“No. ‘s an order.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay- an order. Because you’re totally in a position to make those.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.” You spin on your heels, nearly crashing into his chest since he followed so closely behind you. Still, you figure the promixity is all the better for gesturing, so you don’t miss a beat, waving your hands emphatically. “My shift just ended, alright? That means I’m not on the clock, and you’re not a patient. I don’t have to suck it up and help you unless I want to. Understand?”

Bakugou seems to bristle at your tone, eyes narrowing as his lip curls. You just try to shrug it off. If he wants to be mad in the middle of the alley, fine- but you’ve had a long day and you’re going home. You spin around again, walking briskly into the street, and it takes him a few moments to catch up.

“I told you, Bakugou, I’m not helping you just because you tried to order me to.”

“I know.”

“Then what’re you doing?”

“Walking.”

It’s his tone; that same needling, challenging edge to it that has your blood boiling. If anyone else said that, you’d probably believe it. But he’s not just walking and Bakugou’s smirk makes that very clear.

“No. You’re following me.”

“Same fuckin’ direction. Sue me, leech.”

The street lamps cast spots that yellow out his already pale skin, and the longer you walk the more withered he looks. Bakugou seems utterly burnt out, and when you look really close, all his features are slumped. It’s a stark contrast to Dynamite’s turbo-charged public persona, and it makes you wonder why he’d even let you see him like this at all. You figure whatever it is must be making him pretty desperate.

Suddenly that same, sinking, sympathetic feeling has you letting up a bit. You slow your pace, catching his gaze as you internally curse your own soft heart.

“Okay. Fine. What’s up. What can I help you with?”

Bakugou squints his eyes, almost like he doesn’t believe you. You think that’s a little fair- most times, even you can hardly believe all that you’re capable of forgiving.

“Sleep.” He finally says, bitten out tightly under his breath. 

“You want me to help you sleep?”

“Yes. Obviously.” 

“Not obvious.” 

“Would be if you weren’t such a shitty nurse.”

“If that’s supposed to be a dig- save it.” You roll your eyes, trying to tamper down the irritation. “I did notice. That you look tired. Just didn’t mention it out of kindness, so don’t think you can start bringing my skills into question.” 

You turn down another side street, and Bakugou follows. There’s less light so you miss the way his eyes scan the lurking shadows; intense and immediate, like a habit he can’t help himself from indulging in. 

“You really live around here?” He suddenly asks, voice low and gruff.

“Yep. In the apartment complexes just up there.” You point off into the distance. “Why-”

“And your shift always end this late?”

“Yes?”

“God,” He laughs something disbelieving under his breath, rolling his eyes at you. “I was fuckin’ right. You really are the stupidest goddamn person walking the planet.”

“That’s- Do you ever think about your words? Seriously!” You huff, curling your fists. You hope it’ll quell your sudden urge to hit him. “Just because you think it, doesn’t mean you should say it! And who the hell are you to judge anyway-”

“You’re fuckin’ asking to be attacked. That’s stupid. ”

“By who?”

“Weirdos, idiot.”

“You’re the weirdo! You’re the one following me home right now!”

“I’m not following you-”

“Really? You’re not? Because right now, the way you’re walking? Maybe all of two steps behind me? On a dark street? At night? Sort of seems like creepy following is exactly what you’re doing!”

“I told you, you need to do something for me. Not leaving till you do.” He grumbles, digging a bruised knuckle into his temples. “And keep it the fuck down. Your screaming sounds like a dying animal.”

“My-” You seethe for a moment, hardly able to stand his attitude. Then you take a breath because you prided yourself on being a kind person, and kind people do not kill national heroes- even when they’re being asses. “You know, it is almost unbelievable how bad you are at asking for help.”

“Told ya, already. ‘m not fuckin’ asking for help.” 

“Then why are you even here bothering me? Go bother someone else!”

“If fuckin’ anyone else could do anythin’, believe me, I’d go to them instead.”

“God, do you even understand how rude that is?” You ask him incredulously, hand grasping at the door to your apartment building. “No, seriously, are you even aware of what you sound like to other people?”

“Not my fuckin’ problem that other people are sensitive.” 

Your eyes bulge at that, mouth nearly dropping in disbelief. You couldn’t believe him. You just couldn’t believe that a single person could possibly go through life with that callous of a mentality. It was insanity. Pure insanity. 

“So, leech, you gonna put me to fuckin’ sleep or not?” 

Just kidding- that was insanity. That sentence alone was proof of just how ridiculous your life had gotten since he’d crash landed into it. 

Bakugou seems to realize his words simultaneously, his cheeks flushing red under the outdoor lights. You almost laugh, but then he’s glaring, eyes sternly set and murderous. For a moment, you really believe he was gonna blow you up right where you were standing. 

“Say a goddamn word. Do it. I fuckin’ dare you. Leech.” He sneers. “Try me.”

“At this hour? No, uh, no thanks.”

Bakugou does seem to relax at your joke, albeit begrudgingly. He drops his shoulders, rolling his eyes, and clears his throat. “Now, seriously, you gonna fuckin’ do it or not?”

A part of you wants to say no- to hold your gift over his head, to lord it just out of reach until he figures out how to not insult you with every breath. Then you think of your job, of all the civilians who come in swearing up and down that Dynamite was a hero. And you believe them, truly, but you think that Bakugou has a long way to go. An especially long way.

But, even so, your fingers are itching again in your gloves. There’s that urge coursing through your veins, your thoughts a constant loop of heal, help, save and so it’s decided. Quickly. Almost like it was never even a question in the first place- and, knowing yourself, you suppose it never really was.

“Fine. I will. On one condition.”

“Condition? When the fuck did I say it was a negotiation. It’s not.” 

“It is and I’ll tell you why.” You spin to face him completely, jumping back when you find him much closer than expected. Your retreat till your back hits the door, but you feel no less cramped than before. “You need me. You do. Don’t bother denying it because you wouldn’t be here otherwise. And the funny thing is, I would’ve done it! Would’ve done it entirely free of charge if you just asked nicely, and-”

“Will you get to the fuckin’ point already?”

“See! That! That’s why there’s a condition! Because you’re needlessly rude! All the time from what I’ve seen. And that’s got to change. Especially if you’re gonna ask for my help more than just this one time.” 

“God- how many fuckin’ times do I need to make this clear to you? Hah?” Bakugou growls, leaning in even more. You can see it in his wild eyes- he’s trying to scare you, crowding you against the door. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you- You don’t make the fuckin’ rules here.” 

“In this I do.” You swallow nervously, trying not to let your intimidation show. “So you’re gonna listen. My condition is this- if you want me to help you, then you have to learn to play nice. That means no names, no insults, no threats, no complaints, and no attitude. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.” 

Bakugou swears under his breath, eyes blazing as he holds his stare. Truthfully, it makes you nervous, but you’re not one to back down. At least, not when there’s no threat of job loss involved. So you just squint back at him, jutting your jaw out in defiance. There’s a tense few seconds of silence, his eyes searching, but then he backs off. Nostrils flaring like a bull, Bakugou relents. 

“Fuckin’ fine. Whatever. Jesus.” He swears, hand curling into a fist at his side. “If you’re gonna be such a bitc-”

“I said, no names, Bakugou.”

He just rolls his eyes, face so very pinched, and you briefly wonder if he’s going to explode. There’s anger as he suddenly shoves you away from the door, yanking it open and letting himself into the building. Then he’s stomping through the lobby, and you’re hardly able to catch up by the time Bakugou stops in front of the elevator. 

“What fuckin’ floor, leech?”

“Once again, I said no names. None. Especially not that one.” You tell him sternly, trying to keep your voice down. “And you didn’t agree. You’re not following me and I’m not helping you unless you agree.”

If possible, you think Bakugou’s expression grows even more irritated, his eyes widening as he sets his jaw. Another few seconds pass, and when he sees you won’t relent, Bakugou nods. It’s tight and strained, stunted like the acquiescence physically pains him. 

“God, you’re lucky I’m nice.” You tell him, nearly stabbing the elevator button as you press it. “Really lucky.”  

“And you’re lucky I don’t have enough energy to beat the shit out of you right now.” 

“No threats, Bakugou. You agreed.” You say easily, stepping into the elevator as it opens. 

“Had to. Because your fuckin’ terms are bullshit.” 

“Hey, no complaints. You agreed to that too.” 

You think you hear something strangled leave his mouth, but it’s swallowed up by the sound of the elevator ascending. 

Now that you’re standing in better lighting, you can see Bakugou’s face clearly. He looked bad before, but he looks worse now. There wasn’t just one bruise on his face, there was multiple- his jaw colored burgundy and his nose and lip split open. There was no blood, but there wasn’t a lot of scabbing either. It was new. These injuries were new.

You think back to that first visit- when he told you he never really got hurt. You wonder what’s been going so wrong for him lately. It seemed like all he’d done since you’d met him was get hurt. 

“Stop fuckin’ staring.”

“I-I’m not. Not like that.” You say. “I’m assessing. You’re gonna need a butterfly bandage, on your nose- skin moves too much. And a cold compress for your jaw. Maybe some disinfectant on your lip. Probably should get your knuckles wrapped too and-”

“Jesus, I fuckin’ get it.”

You roll your eyes, ready to retort, but then the elevator dings. You walk out into the hallway, Bakugou trailing behind you like a shadow. It’s not until you’re at your door, twisting your key into the lock, that you pause.

You’re about to enter your apartment, with Bakugou of all people. A guy you’re not even sure can tolerate you. And yet you’re doing it- because he needs help. Because he looks like walking death and you’ve got a first aid kit under your bathroom sink. Because he’s pretty much proved himself to be an irredeemable asshole, but yet you still can’t bring yourself to leave him out in the cold.

Because you’re an empath, and that, by default, makes you an idiot.

You turn the key. Bakugou, to his credit, looks a little uneasy, but then you’re waving him through the door, and pushing it shut behind him. 

“So, you wait here.” You gesture towards your couch, moving aside a few pillows to make him room to sit. “I’m gonna go get all that stuff I talked about.”

“So, what, you’re just like playing fuckin’ nice nurse again, now?”

“Bakugou. No attitude please- I am nice, okay? All the time. Or, at least when others are nice to me.” You say, levelling him with an unimpressed look. “And even if they’re not, I still don’t like seeing them hurt. Not if I can do something about it.”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ help.”

“No, but you need it. And since you’re too stubborn to ask for it, I’m just gonna have to force it on you.”

“Do you even fuckin’ hear yourself?” Bakugou prickles, voice rising. “Acting like a goddamn savior. Like you’re so fuckin’ good and holy. It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not.” You say flatly. Then you’re pivoting on your heels, leaving him behind and you grab the first aid kit. You open the bathroom door, calling over your shoulder. “And if you have such a problem with it, then leave. Nobody is keeping you here.”

You hear Bakugou swear again, so angry and seething that you almost believe he’ll take you up on your offer; but then you hear footsteps across the floor, the creaking of your couch.

You reach under your sink, pulling out the kit and a few extra rags for a compress. When you look in the mirror there’s exhaustion lacing your features, your eyes worn and dark with bags. The sight makes a part of you want to forget it all- makes you want to surrender to the ache in your bones and tell him to leave; but that’s just a small part. The larger part is telling you that you’re not spent until you’re unconscious, and that right now, Bakugou looks a whole lot worse than you feel. It’s telling you to hurry up and help him and you agree. 

When you walk back out, supplies in hand, Bakugou’s slumped on your couch. He’s got his head tilted over the back, one hand resting on his stomach and the other thrown over his eyes. He shifts at the sound of your approach, dropping his hand and as blinks blearily. You think his eyes look a little duller than before- less like raging wildfire and more like smothered embers. If you didn’t know any better it would look like begruding acceptance- but this was Bakugou, and you knew better.

“So,” You start, setting all of your things down on the couch next to him. “You wanna go to sleep now? Or wait until after I fix up pretty much the entirety of your face?” 

He looks at you unsurely, eyebrows creasing.

“Wait, actually- how are you planning to get home?” You continue, hands on your hips. “Where do you even live? Around here? Close? Because you were out in like, 10 minutes, maybe, the last time I touched you, so it’s gotta be close. You live close right? Because-”

“God, cool it with the fuckin’ word vomit. Shit’s annoying. Shut up.” He grumbles. “I’m sleeping here.”

“Who decided? You?”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“Bakugou.” You balk, striding closer to the back of your couch. You lean over him, forcing him meet your eyes. “This is what I’m talking about! With the learning to play nice thing! I would’ve let you stay here, I would’ve, had you asked. You can’t just bulldoze your way into my house and refuse to leave!” 

“Yeah? ‘n just what the fuck are you gonna do about it if I do?” He scoffs, curling his lip as he snarls. “Nothing. Because you’re so fuckin’ nice, right?”

“Don’t say it like that. It’s not a bad trait and I won’t have you insulting it. I’m not embarrassed of who I am.” You try to work through your frustration, centering yourself with a deep breath. “Look, bottom line is, ask next time. Or I’m not helping you until you do.” 

“Fine. Whatever.”

You try to shrug off his petulant response, taking another calming breath as you shuck off your gloves. You replace them with latex ones from the kit, pulling the material over your fingers as you grab the antiseptic wipes. You decide to start around the cut on his nose. It’s the largest and widest, spanning over the entirety of his bridge and into his right cheek. It’s a nasty thing, deep and red, all exposed nerves beneath a thin scab and you can tell it hurts him. Bakugou fights to keep from wincing, eyes scrunching slightly as you wipe the remnants of dirt and oil from his skin. 

“This from another villan?” You ask calmly, finding an easy peace in performing familiar tasks. “One today?”

“Cuts are from today. Bruises were yesterday.”

Blinking down at him, you’re a little surprised by how easy his answer was. You expected him to fight, to be difficult just because he could, but Bakugou wasn’t doing that. He was lying relatively and still and sated under your fingertips, the only sign of any tension are his minutely pinched eyebrows. Briefly, you check your gloves- for a moment there you were sure you’d accidentally touched him.

“Oh. Okay.” You reply, taking a small butterfly bandage from your kit. You press it over the cut with gentle pressure. “How’s the other guy look?”

“Fuckin’ terrible. Beat ‘em to hell.”

“I’m sure you did.” You snort, moving on to clean the cut on his lip. “Hey, you wanna know something?”

Bakugou peeks a red eye open, studying your face above him. He nods.

“I actually end up treating a lot of your victims, you know.” 

“Criminals. Not victims.”

“Mhm. Sure. Well, either way, they’re always covered in burns. Mostly minor, but sometimes pretty nasty ones.” You try to keep your voice light, even and steady as you dab at his lip. “Honestly, at this point, I’m pretty sure you’re entirely responsible for the hospital’s chronic burn-cream shortage.”

Bakugou does seem to smile at that, exhaling through his nose as his eyes flutter briefly. “Wouldn’t be fuckin’ short if people just stopped tryin’ to pull stupid shit all the time. ‘s not my fault they’re so fuckin’ bad at running away.” 

“Bakugou.” You balk, unable to keep the laugh from bubbling out your lips. “You can’t say that!’ 

“Why the fuck not? Hah? It’s true.” 

“Because! You’re supposed to be playing nice, remember?”

“Yeah. To you.” He mumbles, voice rough and raspy. “Because you fuckin’ schemed your way into forcing me. They didn’t.” 

“Okay- First, I’m like, pretty sure schemed and forced are the same thing, so we definitely don’t need to say them both. It’s just overkill. Second, that’s a borderline insult, so I’m gonna need you to watch your mouth. And third,” You cradle his jaw in your fingers, turning it to the side. “How the hell did you manage to get a bruise behind your ear?”

“I don’t know- probably the same way you somehow managed to become a nurse; even with such shitty fuckin’ bedside manner. You suck, leech.”

Your jaw drops. 

“Bakugou!”

He cracks his eyes open, something small and pleased settling at the corner of his mouth. There’s almost as much venom in his voice as before but his eyes are softer now. They’re kinder, crinkling just slightly at the edges. 

He’s joking. You realize. He doesn’t actually mean it. Not this time.

“You dick.” You reprimand, flicking his hairline lightly. “You absolute dick.”

His eyes just seem to grow a little brighter at that, just for a second, and then he’s shutting them again. There’s still a smirk on his face though- one you’d swear you’d slap off if he wasn’t actually being somewhat pleasant right now. For once in his life, it seemed. 

“Alright,” You announce, rounding the couch quickly. “Your knuckles look just as bad so give ‘em.”

“No thanks.”

“It wasn’t really a suggestion.”

“I don’t need anymore of your pity help, leech.”

“It’s not pity. Not even a little bit.” You sigh. “Look, I know you’re not gonna understand this, but I seriously cannot chill the hell out without at least trying to take care of people. My quirk makes my fingers literally itch when I see injuries. They itch and they don’t stop itching until I do something about it. Helping people, healing people, is hard-wired into me- it’s as much something I do for me as it is something I do for others.” 

Bakugou’s eyes widen at that. He sits a little straighter, fists clenching as he presses them into the cushions. A few beats pass and then he’s grumbling, throwing himself back as he thrusts both of his injured knuckles forward.

“God, you’re so fucking irritating.” He gripes. “If you’re gonna be such a weirdo about it, then get the hell to it already.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead kneeling next to your coffee table and settling on the ground. You take his hands in yours, bending all his fingers to make sure nothing is broken. When nothing is, you look up at Bakugou, planning to tell him the good news, but he’s already looking at you. Your eyes meet, and he blinks, once, twice, before averting his eyes quickly. You think that maybe he blushes too, but he turns his head so sharply you’re almost convinced you imagined it.

You just try to shrug it off, focusing your attention back on his hands. You notice how warm they are again, nearly feverish and strangely unblemished. When you start rubbing bruise cream over knuckles, kneading the joints between your fingers, Bakugou sighs slumps back into the couch. He closes his eyes once more.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No. Can’t. Fuckin’ told ya already.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me why.” You set his hands back on the couch, moving instead to unravel a bandage. “Not that I won’t help you, but have you tried any other remedies? Melatonin? Or lavender? Maybe chamomile? Any of those?”

“Mhm. Falling asleep isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?” 

 He opens his eyes, squinting at you from above. “None of your fuckin’ business.” 

“Bakugou, I’m trying to help here.”

“I don’t want-”

“Yeah. I know. You don’t want it. Or you don’t want to rely on it. I get it. But you wouldn’t have even came here if you didn’t absolutely need it, right?” You insist, grabbing his hands into yours again. “God, you know, I’ve had toddlers who were more cooperative than you. Why’re you so difficult?”

“I’m not fuckin’ difficult.”

“No. You’re difficult. Very difficult.” 

“And you’re fuckin’ annoying. Do me a favor and go back to being nice.” 

“Nope. Sorry. Pretty sure you didn’t like me then either.” You start wrapping the bandage around his knuckles, taking extra care to apply the right pressure. “And I was only nice to you because I was working, you know. I’m only actually nice to the people who deserve it.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes at that.

You finish wrapping the bandage, securing it into place with a bit of medical adhesive. All things considered, Bakugou looks better than before. Or at least, better than the death incarnate he’d been portraying himself as.

“All done.” You smile, turning away to start packing up your supplies.

“Finally. Took ya fuckin’ long enough.” 

“God, you are literally devoid of manners, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah. ‘s part of not bein’ an absolute bitch.”

You gawk, spinning around to face him. Bakugou’s relaxed into your couch, arms laid across the back leisurely as he smiles. There’s that same softness to his eyes from before, the crinkling just at the edges.

“Wow.” You scoff, smiling sarcastically. “You really think you’re so funny don’t you?” 

“I do.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Yeah. Because you’re fuckin’ brainless.”

“Brainless? Me? Swear to god, you only know, like, three words and all of them are probably swears!” 

Bakugou just shrugs, looking abnormally pleased. Content even. You figure that’s probably right for someone like him- only happy when everyone around him is devolving into chaos.

“Actually, you know what, I think I’m done yelling for the night.” You say, shucking your gloves off. You wiggle your fingers at him, a smirk plastered across your face. “I think it’s time you’re euthanized, don’t you?”

Bakugou just blinks, minutely shrinking away from you.

“Because you said you wanted me to put you to sleep, right? To put you down. Like a dog.” You continue, nearing him, coming close even as his lip curls up. Bakugou is glaring fully now, fists clenched, and you stop just a few inches out of his reach. “Or, you know, in ruder terms- not a dog, but a bitch.”

Bakugou snarls, lunging at you as you duck away. He’s fast but you’re faster, vaulting behind your couch to create some distance. There’s fire in his eyes, blazing and hot in his irises, but it isn’t scary. If you look close enough, you’re almost sure it’s just warmth. That same rare amusement from earlier.

“You leech. Swear to fuck I’ll make you regret that. Say your goddamn prayers!” 

“Touch me and you’ll fall asleep!” You tease. “Or I’ll use my quirk and see into your brain. So I guess it’s more of a ‘pick your poison’ for you, really.” 

“It’ll be the same for you.” Bakugou growls, hands grasping the back of the couch as he leans in towards you. “Open casket or closed, it’s still gonna be your fuckin’ funeral.” 

“Really?”

“Really. Leech.”

“No thanks.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘no thanks’,” Bakugou mimics your voice, his features twisting. “I’m killing you. You’re dead. You don’t get a choice.” 

“No, I really think I do.”

“And just what the fuck makes you so goddamn confident?”

“This. You not attacking me.” You smile easily, voice daring as you stare right back at him. “If you really wanted me dead, I’d be dead. Isn’t that right, Dynamite?” 

The name sends Bakugou recoiling, shrinking backwards and scoffing in outright shock. You watch him stumble, legs hitting your coffee table and nearly causing him to fold. He recovers quickly though, albeit with his cheeks flushing wildly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“Nah. Thanks for the offer though.” You smile brightly, before throwing your arms above your head and yawning widely. “As fun as that was, I’m pretty tired. You ready to fall asleep, yet?”

“Jesus fuck, yes. That’s the entire goddamn reason I’m even here. Idiot.”

“No name calling. You agreed.”

“I didn’t agree to shit.”

“You did.” You affirm. “Now, c’mon, like last time, hold your hand out.” 

With surprisingly little dramatics or resistance, Bakugou listens. He thrusts one of his bandaged hands forward as he sits on the couch again. When you touch his fingers, you feel that faint warmth again. Like fire and embers coursing through your bloodstream. It’s uncomfortable, a relentless sensation that has you cringing. You briefly wonder what it would be like to always live with it. Like Bakugou seems to. 

His eyes flutter shut just like last time, and you can see the way he staggers. It’s like the fight leaves him entirely, and then he’s falling boneless into the couch. You can hardly place a pillow onto the cushions before he’s driving his head into it.

“Jesus,” You mutter in disbelief. “How long has it been since you slept? You look dead.” 

“Weeks.” Bakugou mumbles.

“Since the last time?” 

“Mhm.”

If his words alone didn’t confirm the severity of his sleeplessness for you, his response time did. Bakugou answered quickly, without fight, like he’d been wanting to spill for the entire night. And, you suppose, maybe he did; or was trying to. In hindsight, you begin to realize a lot of his screaming could just as easily have read as cries for help- not that you’d ever tell him that. You’d probably have to prepare a will if you ever tried telling him that.

“You want a blanket?” You ask a little unsurely, not exactly confident in your approach to this entirely different Bakugou. “All you’re getting is the couch, but I could probably scrounge up a few blankets.”

Bakugou doesn’t respond. All you hear in response are tiny little snores and slow breathing. 

You find it reminds you of the last time- the way you’re reaching into a cupboard and grabbing out a blanket for him. Except this time, it’s a little bit different. Somehow you’re settling the blanket over him with a little bit of genuine kindness instead of begrudging sympathy.

After all, you can’t help but feel a little bit of pity- no one would ever fall asleep that fast unless they really needed it. Especially not in a stranger’s house. 

--/--

enjoy my lovelies :))

taglist:  @fluffyviciousbunny @definitelynottrin @imsuperawkward @i-need-air @ahbeautifulexistence @brennabooz @jazzylove @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @katsuki-bakubabe @sorrythatspussynal @bakugouswh0r3 @cloudsgathering @un-limit-edd @thekatsukisimp @pollayra21 @the2ndl @officialtrashbusiness @waffleareniceandfluffy @monempathieetmoi @koiwoshinai

[because-of-a-friend]

GuardianAngel!Jun

MASTERLIST

Thanks for the request anon! I really hope you like it!!! This was def a bit out of my comfort zone but in a really exciting way! Also I don’t keep up with absolutely all lore on angels/ guardian angels, so if I say something you weren’t expecting/didn’t really want or left out something you were expecting, I’m sorry and hope it’s still enjoyable anyways! (I DIDN’T MEAN TO MAKE THIS ANGSTY IT JUST SORT OF HAPPENED IM SORRY)

Warnings: Near death experiences (including almost drowning), mentions of injury and death, and angst

There are rules about being a guardian angel that are so obvious, they don’t need to be spoken

Obviously, if there’s a fixed point where your person has to get injured or even die, you can’t intervene

You can’t ever assist in a way that would get you spotted by your person

You can’t do more than simple guidance when it comes to matters of the heart and mind

And, you cannot ever meet your person and tell them who you are

Jun has always followed all rules to a T

He’s never gotten in trouble or anywhere even close to trouble

He’s an example to his peers

He always does his job perfectly

There’s never been a hitch

And then he’s assigned to you 

At first your life is as normal as anyone else he’s ever been a guardian to

But then things get complicated

It’s honestly like you’re trying to get hurt

Suddenly, there’s just a period of time where you’re constantly in danger

Jun will save you once and then immediately be running off to save you again

Boy is he stressed

He feels like his constant state of being is just standing there, bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath before you need him again

He’ll admit that he’d rather be assigned to you than someone who never required his help at all

He’d be so bored

But still, did you always have to be so... reckless?

One day it gets to be too much

And Jun slips up

You had already walked under an AC unit falling from someone’s apartment window and he had to send a gust of wind to push you out of the way

Then you stepped out into the street in front of a car speeding down the road

Jun was still in the middle of breathing out a sigh of relief from the first incident

So he didn’t have the time to think of how to save you from the next danger

In his panic he steps forward and grabs you

You feel the hand around your wrist

You feel the force yanking you back out of the street

You see someone out of the corner of your eye

But once you fully turn to thank them, no one is there

You’re turning around over and over to see who you could have missed

But there’s really no one

Jun is watching you from a few feet away, now invisible to your eyes, his heart practically beating out of his chest

He didn’t do anything wrong... did he?

Technically he didn’t get caught by you

Technically 

But that was close 

He needs to be more careful

You have a period of time where you’re just utterly confused about what happened that day

You’re constantly looking over your shoulder wondering if maybe it was something supernatural

You start to notice your close calls with injury/death

And begin to wonder what’s stopping you from actually getting hurt

Sometimes it’s a gust of wind strong enough to push you out of the way, or a loud noise to stop you in your tracks, or sometimes just the kindness of a random stranger who is suddenly overcome with the need to help you

It’s starting to feel impossible how many times you’ve crossed paths with death and walked away fine

You begin to almost... test the waters

Instead of accidentally running into trouble, you start purposely running towards it

Jun is unbelievably stressed

Why do you have to do this? 

He feels like he might die at this rate just from how much he’s stressing out about your safety

Then you put him in a situation where he really has no choice but to help you as himself

You’re walking by a community pool late at night after agreeing to help your friend that works there out by locking up for them so they could go out that night instead of being stuck at work late

There’s no one else there since it’s already closed

It’s dark and slippery

And with you being you, Jun is beyond nervous, so he follows behind you from no more than a foot away

It’s going fine and you’re almost done

So Jun is letting out a sigh of relief

But it was too soon

As you’re passing by to double check that the back door is locked, you slip on the wet floor

You tumble towards the pool and hit your head on the way down

Jun watches in horror as you fall into the water and sink straight to the bottom

He doesn’t hesitate even for a moment to jump in after you

He drags you out and sets you down next to the pool

You’re not waking up and he’s terrified

He begins to perform CPR

Finally you sit up, choking, water streaming out of your mouth

You saw him, you know you did

There’s a boy sitting in front of you even though you knew there was no one in the building besides you

He’s staring into your eyes with such great concern

“Are you ok?”

You nod slowly as he helps you sit up 

“You need to go to the hospital, you hit your head”

You nod at his words again, reaching up the rub your eyes since they’re blurred from the water

“How did you get in-”

You stop mid sentence

As soon as you’ve taken your hands away from your eyes, you look up and see that no one is there

You begin to search around but you really are alone

You’re spooked and also worried that maybe it’s just because you hit your head that hard and immediately head to the hospital 

The doctor discharges you quickly, telling you the hit didn’t do any serious damage and that you just needed to rest and take it easy for a few days

You’re still completely confused by the disappearing boy 

Was he the same person that pulled you out of the street that one day?

Jun begins to observe you closely after these incidents

He can tell you must be thinking about him

Most days when you’re not busy, you’ll be staring off into the distance, your mind trying to explain these strange happenings

And for the first time since he’s ever become a guardian angel, Jun really wants to tell you

Usually he had no issues hiding from the people he was assigned to

But you

He likes the way you live

How you speak to people

Your goals and dreams and how you work towards them

The hobbies you enjoy

He feels happy being your guardian

And while it can be stressful sometimes, he never hates it

It feels, ironically, comfortable to be your guardian

He’s honestly grown quite fond of you

Which is also a big no-no for guardian angels

You should never get too attached to your assigned person

There will come a time where they have to get hurt 

Or a time when their life must come to an end

If a guardian angel is too attached to a human

They may try to change what must be

But Jun hates watching you feel like you’re going insane over not being able to explain these instances 

He wants to be able to explain it all to you

In the end all it takes is one more brush with danger before you’re standing there, Jun’s hand locked around your arm, staring into his eyes after he’s saved you once again

He immediately turns to walk away but you grab his arm

“WAIT! Wait!”

Jun knows he should do anything, anything at all to leave you right then and there so he doesn’t get caught

But he also doesn’t hate the idea of that happening

“I know you!” you say. “You saved me the other day at the pool!” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, turning back to you, “but I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“It was you, wasn’t it?” you’re so sure this is the boy from the pool

Jun hesitates

Instead of saying anything, he just holds a finger up to his lips in a shushing motion before finally walking off

And you just stand there in awe

It was him

You go home immediately, beginning to study different supernatural creatures and happenings

You print out pages and pages of all sorts of information on any type of guardian creature you can find

You’re certain this boy is something other than human and you’re sure that whatever he is, he must be in charge of your safety

Now every time you almost get hurt or in trouble, you look around wildly, trying to spot the boy who you’ve only really been able to see twice

Sometimes you’ll catch a glimpse of a figure walking around a corner out of sight, or a being seemingly disappearing into thin air

This boy must be following you everywhere and you’re determined to catch him again

Jun, who is very tired after all of the saving you and then concealing himself moments, sort of just... lets you

One day you turn around after surviving another potentially dangerous moment, and he’s just... standing there

You can’t think of anything else to say, so you just blurt out the question, “Are you my guardian angel?”

Jun just smiles and nods at you, “Nice to finally meet you”

He walks you home that day

And you have a million questions for him

“Did you chose me or were you assigned to me?”

“What abilities do you have?”

“Have you been with me my whole life?”

“Do you have like... a boss?”

“Actually what is the system like?”

“What other supernatural creatures exist?”

“Do you have a name?”

He interrupts your next question by answering, “Jun.”

It silences you for a moment

“I like that name.”

Jun smiles brightly at you

You notice he sort of... glows

To say your relationship moves fast is an understatement

Jun knows your time together will be short

He’s heard what has happened to other guardian angels who have broken the rules

Someone will be coming for him

But he knows he’s in love with you

And wants to make sure he takes advantage of all the moments he has left with you

He’s very forward

But since your safety and comfort is his top priority, he always lets you set the boundaries beforehand

He’ll never do anything you don’t want him to do

But he’s definitely going to do anything and everything that you are ok with him doing

You feel strangely comfortable around him

Obviously you know he’s there to protect you and he’s been there your whole life

But it’s still strange how easy it is for you to just fall right into Jun

He holds your face in his hands and looks at you like you’re the whole world

And to him you are

Nothing has ever mattered to him as much as you

And all he wants to do is spend as much time with you as possible

He wants to go on all the traditional human type dates and do all the cliché human couple things 

The two of you celebrate every human holiday in like a week so he can experience what it’s like lol

On the day you celebrate Valentine’s Day he gets you every cheesy gift he’s ever seen humans get each other

“Jun how am I supposed to sleep with this many giant teddy bears in my room?”

“You’ll figure it out”

Then you two celebrate Christmas and he definitely sets up mistletoe on every doorway

You don’t miss how tightly he holds you at night

Or the way he looks at you like you’re about to disappear

Or the way he always needs to suddenly reach for you to make sure you’re there

You know something is off

Why would your guardian angel suddenly show up out of the blue to spend your life with you?

“Junnie, you’d tell me if I was gonna die right?”

“What? [Y/N], what makes you think you’re gonna die?”

He comes and kneels in front of you and takes your hands in his

“I don’t know, sometimes you just act like... this is all going to end at any moment.”

Jun knows he should tell you 

But he just wants the two of you to stay in your little bubble for as long as possible

“It’s just because I love you so much, and I just want to make sure you’re always safe and happy”

He clings to you even tighter the next few days

He knows he has to tell you asap so he wants to give you the best days of your life

He’s so doting

Makes you breakfast every day

Is always right there to show you affection

Wrapping his arms around you from behind

Resting his head on your chest and gazing up at you

Ruffling you hair

Pressing kisses all over your face

Letting his hands stroke up and down your arms and then all the way down to your fingers sending goosebumps across your skin

And then one day he gives you a gift out of nowhere 

It’s a beautiful necklace that looks like one single angel wing

“Oh Junnie, I love it” you say putting it on immediately

You quickly notice that he’s wearing a necklace with a matching wing

“[Y/N], I need to tell you something.”

He sits close to you and strokes your hands with his thumbs as he lays out the reality of your situation

His heart is in the pit of his stomach by the time he’s finished and he’s ready for you to run away and leave him behind

But when you assure him that you also want to make the most of every moment you have left

He’s so happy he could cry

So you start to take him on all the typical cheesy human dates

So that way the two of you have plenty of happy moments together while also getting to experience everything

The carnival

Picnics

Walks on the beach

Stargazing

And it’s honestly perfect every time

When he stares lovingly down at your face, stroking his thumb slowly up your cheeks then leans in to kiss you slow and sweet under the stars, you feel like you could fly

Your happiness is short lived though

You’re not even surprised when two men show up at your door asking where Jun is

Despite not being surprised, you are devastated 

The two of you put up a good fight

But the ending was inevitable

You watch helplessly as they drag Jun away from you

But before he’s gone completely he calls out to you

“If it’s in this life or the next, in this world or another, I will come back to you”

And as you see the look in his eyes during those last few moments

And see his expression as he says those words

You know that he will

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Choice: Chris

CW: References to past noncon, torture, conditioning, and training. Trauma response including ‘freeze’ response, flashbacks. PTSD and survivor’s guilt.

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump, @oops-its-whump

“Chris?”

It’s only when Mari speaks that Chris even realizes he’s stopped. She and Ben are a few feet ahead, the three of them heading to the little ‘food court’ in the Student Center to grab some lunch that wasn’t meal-plan food. Mari’s hair laid over her shoulder and caught the light just so in way that she always claims is accidental, but Chris has seen her put enough time and effort into her hair to know it really, really isn’t. 

Except right now he can barely see her at all.

His heart is suddenly still inside his chest, held there through some endless eternal second, and he’s startled into a gasp when it starts beating again. Adrenaline floods his system at the same time and Chris opens his mouth to say I’m just fine but nothing comes out. 

No words. How can he make words happen?

He knows how to speak, except sometimes, when he’s scared or the world is overwhelming the connection was broken.

He can think the words, we need to go I need to go I can’t be here with him but nothing happens when he tells his mouth to move. Only breathing, nearly silent, like an animal hiding under a bush and hoping the predator wouldn’t find him.

“Chris, what’s up?” Mari moves back over to him in a swish of long flowery skirt, putting a hand on his shoulder. When Chris flinches back and away from her instinctively, she pulls her own hand back like she’s been burned, then turns to look at Ben. “Hey, Ben?”

Ben had initially stopped to look back at Chris, too, but now his eyes were moving - not lingering on Chris’s pale face, the bright red spots in his cheeks the only color other than the faintest, faded smear of freckles, but instead following Chris’s gaze to a series of booths set up down a side hallway. “Oh, I forgot all those career guys were here today.”

“Yeah, they come every couple of months, my sister said. She used to go here. What’s up, Chris?” Mari reaches out again but this time, she hesitated before touching him.

He can feel the pressure of her fingers before they reach him, the way they part the air around her. He can feel the weight of the fluorescent lights overhead, hear the soft high buzzing sound they make that sometimes it feels like nobody else can hear but him.

There’s a part of the Student Center he can’t even go in because the ventilation system makes a squeak and he’s the only one in his friend-group who can hear it and it drives him crazy and none of that matters because he’s right here, he’s right here, he’s here and Jake’s not and he’s here.

Chris’s foot feel rooted to the spot even as he desperate to run, staring at a single one of the booths, having to remind himself to blink. 

Can’t run. Have to be still. Have to be so still.

Chris’s left hand drops down to the outside of his thigh, tapping there, half-hidden simply by how quietly and quickly he moves. Have to learn to hide it, have to hide it, can’t let anyone see, stillness is better than what I do-

Help. He can think the word but can’t say it. He’s here. How to explain who ‘he’ is? How to even start. They don’t know, nobody knows, he can’t tell anyone. He can’t tell anyone why he’s scared of the WRU booth.

The logo is cold water down his back all on its own, but he’s seen the logo enough that it’s not the scariest part. He doesn’t feel suddenly terribly small because of the heavy white drape hung with the WRU design printed over it in a vibrant, bloody red. 

The table has the same kind of fabric over it, covered with brochures and paperwork that Chris knew about but had never tried to read, himself. It wasn’t worth giving himself headaches just to see-

Fucking lies, Jake had said, bringing home a stack he’d found to shred and soak in water and then dump in the trash can to be perfectly useless. Lies and lies and fucking lies, and those rich assholes buy every single one because it’s easier than looking any of you guys in he eyes to see that you’re people.

None of that is what holds him still.

What freezes Chris isn’t even the familiar black uniforms of the two men who stand by the booth shaking hands and saying friendly hellos to anyone who paused to take a look. 

What freezes him is one of the men wearing the uniform, a man he knows so well that even his bones go cold just at the sight of his profile, the straight line of his nose, rounded chin, angular jaw. The blond hair graying around the edges is a little grayer, now, but no less recognizable. 

His smile is still branded in hideous fire along the inside of Chris’s mind, along with a trainee’s shaking need to do whatever it took to make him smile, because that’s what it means to be good-

“H-handler.” It’s the only word he can remember, in that moment. It’s the only word he knows, the only person in the entire world is his handler who will come to unlock the door and bring him his food and take him for training or showers or all the other terrible moments that will never stop being etched in Chris’s memories and running like soft fingers down his spine and gripped onto his hips-

“What?” Mari’s voice breaks the moment. “What’d you say?”

Chris doesn’t look at her. He can’t.

He can’t, because Handler Petrus turns and looks right at him.

Kneel. Kneel. Fucking kneel get on your knees show him you’re good Position Two Position Two Position Two-

His knees start to buckle but he catches them, rocks forward and then back just once to remember that his body is his own, he can move it however he wants. If he doesn’t want to kneel he doesn’t have to kneel but the handler’s eyes lock on his eyes and they’re cold, so cold in his friendly smiling face.

Now that wasn’t so hard, was it, 223499? Get up, there’s mouthwash by the sink.

Hold position, or you’ll get another day without food.

Good boy, there, see, you’re a quick learner when you want to be-

“I, I, I don’t want to be,” He whispers. But it doesn’t matter. What he wants is irrelevant, Handler Petrus always gives you choices, you can choose to be good or choose to be bad and get disciplined, and there’s a choice but both of the choices mean you do what he wants because what the trainee wants is irrelevant.

Doesn’t matter.

You’re not a person anymore, so stop the sniveling and hop up on that table.

“Hey, Earth to Chris.” Mari snaps her fingers in his face and the moment breaks, all at once. Chris jerks in a breath only to realize he stopped breathing at some point, dizzy with lack of oxygen, blinking rapidly to get water back to eyes that had gone painfully scratchy and dry from no blinking. “We’re gonna be late to class if you keep just staring at nothing.”

“Lay off, Mari,” Ben says, and Chris wonders if it’s accidental or on purpose when Ben steps between Chris and the handler’s gaze. “He does that sometimes. Come on, Chris, do you need a sec? We can go to the basement, nobody ever goes down there. If you just need some quiet.”

“Um. I... I, I... I d-don’t-... I-I-I-” He looks around Ben, and realizes that Handler Petrus isn’t looking at him. The older man has turned away, is shaking someone’s hand, giving them a brochure with a friendly welcoming smile. 

Chris wants to run and grab it out of the pretty boy’s hands, yell at him that it’s a lie it’s all a lie and it’s going to hurt and it’s hell-

but they’re not here to pick up new pets, are they? No, that boy Handler Petrus is talking to isn’t going to be a pet. He’s going to be a Handler. 

Going to learn to hit and terrorize and torture and train people just like Chris. Is he in it for the hitting, the hurting? Handlers enjoy it, mostly. They like that part, they’re supposed to like that part, and it’s only the pets who would do anything to make it stop-

Anything, whatever you want, please I’ll do whatever you want I’ll sign your stupid paper just please let me out let me out let me out

Handler Petrus isn’t looking at him anymore. That moment of what had felt like eye contact, the paralyzing realization that he was right there and he could walk over and say kneel, pet and Chris would and then everyone would know what he was and is and will always be... it’s gone.

Handler Petrus didn’t know who he was.

He’d just seen someone staring, he didn’t see a pet, he didn’t see 223499, he didn’t see the scars where his barcode used to be so carefully hidden by his long sleeves. No... no, he’d just seen a gawker. Some college kid taking a moment to look. 

He didn’t know him.

The relief Chris feels realizing that his long blue hair and his narrower face, without the hint of puppyfat roundness he’d still had when he went to Sir’s, went unrecognized, nearly knocks him off his feet. He grabs onto Mari just to steady himself and she smiles, puzzled, but holds on.

“Hey. We can go somewhere,” Ben repeats, softer this time, but more serious, too. “If you need a minute.”

Chris turns back to Ben and gives a thin, frightened smile. “I’m okay. Let’s... let’s, let’s go get l... get, get lunch. I, I just-... maybe I’m j-just hungry.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Ben shrugs, and Mari links an arm in his, and Chris lets them lead him away.

He looks over his shoulder only once to see that Handler Petrus is still talking to the same boy, who is writing something down on a piece of paper. There’s another boy, in shabbier clothes, clutching an old backpack and watching but not moving any closer, not yet.

Chris knows what he’s looking at because Jake would know what he’s looking at.

One boy talking about taking a job... another watching and wondering if becoming a pet would solve whatever problems were roiling around inside him.

Chris tells himself he can’t do anything to stop it, not without putting everyone he loves at risk, and he lets Mari and Ben lead him away. He doesn’t think about the boy with the backpack through his lunch. He doesn’t daydream through all his classes about finding him and telling him what it’s really like. He doesn’t think about him at all.

He definitely doesn’t wake up in a cold sweat from a nightmare that night about the boy with the backpack signing his contract, and pad out to the end of the hall to be alone.

He doesn’t clutch his phone like a liferaft.

He doesn’t call Jake at 4 AM and beg him to say it’s okay if he can’t save anyone else but himself, if he can’t be the one to help other people be saved, that it’s okay if he’s too scared to ever have his handler’s eyes on his face again. 

He doesn’t ask Jake to remind him it’s been four years and he never has to go back.

He doesn’t.

Except he does, and Jake says all the right things, and then Chris hangs up the phone and hugs his knees to his chest and rocks and rocks and rocks and cries for the boy with the backpack, looking at the WRU booth and thinking he sees a way out of anything, when all he’s looking at is a way into something worse than whatever hell he’s living through.

Chris hopes and prays to nothing and no one that the boy walked away, that he didn’t make the choice.

Maybe next time he’ll be strong enough to risk the handler’s eyes and be as strong as Jake is and ignore his own fears to stand up for someone else. Maybe next time. Maybe-

Chris is still there when the sky goes grayish pink and the sun starts to rise.

[neapolitanadonna]

Omg can we have the high school headcanons with the Nordics please!!! I loved your original post!!!1

Of course!!! 

Also, sorry for the general inactivity this week. I’ve been super busy with graduation things, college things, work, and everything else in between. I’ve also been having a total existential crisis cause I’m gonna be an adult and leaving to go to college soon like WHAT

Writing this gave me a crush on all of them though I wish I went to this school :/ also I use a lot of American terminologies for things which is MY BAD and I’m not trying to erase their cultures! Let’s all just assume a world wide made up fictional academy would have traditions and terminologies from all over the world, in this case varsity sports and prom-

Anyway! Here’s the original post!  

Mathias Kohler 

Everyone knows Mathias. Everyone loves Mathias. Mathias is the varsity volleyball captain, but doesn’t use his status as a way to look higher than everyone else. He’s the kid who dances with everyone at prom, high fives kids in the hall, stands up for kids who are being bullied, makes eye contact with teachers to let them know somebody’s paying attention, says thank you to the lunch ladies, makes sure everyone feels included, and sometimes refers to teachers by their first name just for the laughs. If you haven’t had a crush on Mathias Kohler at some point in your high school career, you would be lying. He isn’t particularly all that bright, he relies on Lukas and Berwald to get his grades up A LOT (and may or may not cheat on an algebra test here or there) but his character gets him far in school. He’s a complete goofball, but in a sweet and harmless way. However, teachers are warned ahead of time if him, Gilbert, and Alfred are put in the same class. 

Lukas Bondevik

Lukas is the guy who everyone knows for one thing, but other than that, he stays on the down low. He’s the kid in your AP Chemistry class who is silent the entire year, but on the last day of school, he says something in response to Mathias being stupid, and the whole class goes wild because a) he talked, and b) he’s funny. He’s also known for being the schools witchy kid, which gains him some popularity with tiktok cottagecore lesbians, kids who watched American Horror story one too many times, and teenage girls who follow their horoscopes way too closely. In between classes or in study halls, he’ll do tarot readings for other students, which freaks out the teachers sometimes, but its all in good fun. He’s had several instances where a jock has outwardly criticized him for it, then asked him for a reading, and he would purposefully pull ten of swords or five of pentacles, just to freak them out. He’s terrible, he knows.

Emil Steilsson

For his first two years of high school, Emil is known for being Lukas’ brother, and it pisses him off. Teachers will accidentally call him “Lukas” instead of Emil, and teachers will tell him stories of how great of a student Lukas was, and how intelligent and motivated he was in school. It drives Emil half near insane. Emil is the kid you’ll find sitting in the corner of a band practice room (he’s first trumpet in his schools band, and it’s his biggest flex.) He’s snarky, funny, and a little bit disliked by teachers just because he will never kiss anyone's ass as long as he’s alive. He runs a big Instagram meme page that only a couple people know about, he doesn’t live for the clout. You can win his heart by buying him an iced coffee before first period, and hitting on him instead of his very popular hype beast best friend Leon (he gets flustered by compliments but seriously loves them.) 

Berwald Oxenstierna

Unproblematic king. Everybody likes Berwald because he’s proven himself to be unproblematic, and a total sweetheart. He’s the kid who takes all the technology/home improvement/workshop electives, so most of his day is spent in that particular section of the school. However, since he’s fast to finish projects, if you ask him if he’ll make you something, he always will. He’s known for 3D printing or carving small figurines of Hello Kitty, dogs, frogs, hearts, or other cute things for girls who ask him to. Him making little things for people when they ask has become a school wide wholesome meme. Though he doesn’t really talk all that much, he’s the best seatmate to have in class. He’ll share his answers if you’re confused, and is a really good listener when you talk to him. 

(I know he’s supposed to be scary in the show okay shut up he isn’t scary he’s a big softie and gen z understands that.) 

Tino Väinämöinen 

Tino has played high school like a video game. He is a school renowned teachers pet and a straight A student, and he does it with no shame. He’s never a jerk about it, oh no, he could never, he’s just very, very, very sweet to everyone he’s ever met. He does theater and can be very passionate about it, but hates theater kids more than anyone else. He’s the kid who will gain a cult of underclassmen who were shunned by other upperclassmen, and spill all the tea to them. All around though, he’s a very wholesome person. Everyone in the cast knows that he has a not so subliminal crush on Berwald the set designer, and they aren’t so hush hush about it. Berwald made him a small Moomintroll figure once and Tino half near went into cardiac arrest backstage. His friends will never let him live it down. 

[join-the-joywrite]

Hamish & Vera soulmate au headcannons

Sometimes I'm like a red traffic light and sometimes I'm like the Flash of writing. Would you look at that, another one for the collection! Seriously, please write these and tag/link me I'm begging--

For today's rambling, we have what you write on your skin appears on your soulmate's. I'm aiming for a little happiness, given I'm still upset about the colours one and the first/last words one. Allons-y!

Vera and Hamish were best friends as soon as Hamish finally learned how to write. They shared all their stories with one another and for the most part, told each other everything.

Their parents got them washable markers when they were 10 and 6 respectively because it was getting a little hard to stop children from writing on their arms with pens that were stubborn or toxic markers.

Strange thing was that they never actually introduces themselves and they never really noticed that they didn't know each other's names. It never mattered. This was the one person in the whole world that knew them better than anyone else -- and they had no idea who the other was. It was kind of special.

Hamish wrote about how he got bullied for wearing sweaters. They called him a nerd and teacher's pet in tones that said it was the most hateful thing to be.

Vera wrote back the most cunning ways to get back at the bullies until Hamish ended up being almost a poster boy for his school while still maintaining some kind of commanding aura. At age 8.

Hamish was the first person to learn that Vera was pregnant.

"WHAT? But -- but you are a child!!" "We are leading very different lives."

"I asked my mom and she said children shouldn't be having kids but I think you'll be okay. You're stronger than anyone I know and I think your kid's gonna love you lots." Vera never tells anyone that she finds the most support in a little twelve year old kid whose name she isn't really inclined to learn.

When Vera's baby dies, Hamish is the only person she speaks -- or writes -- to. He's the only person she's never afraid to spill all her secrets to.

"If you got invited to join a secret society that could possibly be a cult of murderers, would you do it?" "What do they offer, though?" "Free drinks and magic." "I'd say go for it."

Hamish thinks it's a joke and Vera knows a 14 year old kid isn't gonna know any better but she listens to him anyway and powers through initiation, catching the eyes of her Temple Magus and the then Grand Magus.

"Hey, remember that cult I was telling you about? I accidentally got the leader killed but I got a promotion." "I'm so proud of you! Hey, what do you think about law school?" "Absolutely not." "For me?" "Oh. Go for it. I believe in you."

And it's that message from Vera that makes Hamish push through his first year at Belgrave, despite being turned into a werewolf somewhere in the third month.

Vera is the most respected Adeptii in the entire Order. She has her eyes set on Temple Magus. Most would think she was after power, but Vera just wants to set things straight. She just wants to make the Order everything it promises to be.

She's staying late at the temple one night. She feels a light tapping on her arm and rolls up her sleeves. Had she imagined it or was she starting to feel her soulmate's thinking stage?

"Remember that girl I told you about from that club I joined?" "Yeah. Did you finally ask her to be your girlfriend?"

Vera's teasing smile vanishes when she sees "she's dead" printed on her arm. The ink starts to run. She knows he's crying. She waves her hand over her arm and the ink vanishes. If he notices and asks her about the sudden disappearance, she'll say it was just a wet cloth.

"Do you want to talk about it or do you want me to distract you?" There is a long pause and Vera feels her heart beat faster. He wouldn't do anything irrational, right? "Distract me, please."

Vera tells him all about her day. She tells him how she's mastering all the skills the cult (she only ever calls it a cult on her arm) requires and she's almost at the top of the food chain. She tells him she wants to get a job at the university and she tells him she's afraid she won't be able to make a change in the world.

Despite his grief, Hamish manages to slowly write to Vera how he truly believes in her and that he knows she can do anything she puts her mind to.

Years pass. Hamish tells Vera about two new family members he's found. Vera tells Hamish about how she's got the job of her dreams. Hamish tells Vera that if they met by chance one day, he'd ring her into the family. Vera tells Hamish that she would induct him into her cult. They laugh but still, they don't reveal themselves. The anonymity of it gives them a sense of security and strangely enough, safety.

With the entrance of Jack Morton comes a whirlwind of drama and action to both of them. Their stories are filled with tales of this new member and all the strange things he does.

"I'm his boss! I'm his boss and he just does not listen to a word I say! Today, I found out he's been practicing skills only for professionals. It's like giving a kid a gun for a pinata. He is driving me insane."

"You're telling me. Our 'gender-neutral collective's new member is having a severe mental breakdown and I'm pretty sure I saw him talking to a coat rack earlier. I gave him a drink and he took it like a shot so I gave him a shot to see what he'd do and. He. Sipped. At. It."

Neither of them are aware that they're talking about the same person.

"I think I have a soft spot for the screw-up."

"I know the feeling, we call ours the family screw-up. Affectionately, of course."

"Of course."

After the burning of the Vade Maecum, Vera lies awake in bed, unable to find rest. So she grabs her marker, only to find a message waiting for her.

"Dear Diary, today I met a girl unlike any other. She's sharp, strong, brave and powerful. She reminds me of you. She helped me defend my dumbass family from some pretentious assholes. Honestly, she's a force of nature on her own. I wouldn't want her to hate me because I'm pretty sure she'd kill me if she did."

Vera smiles. "Sounds like someone has a crush."

"Gross, don't be so middle school."

Vera manages to find peaceful rest after a few more minutes of talking.

A few days later, Vera asks about the girl. "What girl?" "Nothing. How was your day?"

Vera doesn't understand why she no longer hears stories about the family of oddballs.

Vera doesn't make the connection.

She tells him she's head of the cult. Hamish draws party streamers and balloons. They're absolutely terrible but they make Vera laugh. "I'm proud of you." "Thank you."

"Dear diary, today I joined a secret club." "What, like a book club?" "Well . . . there are a lot of books here."

Vera finds a welcome sense of familairty and faintly, home, when the stories start pouring in about the family again.

"So today I had to pull a thorn out of a baby's foot. Said baby is turning 19 this year."

"Oh, you poor soul. A couple of new members drank the entire cult's worth of booze last night. Who even drinks that much and can still walk well enough to leave?" Hamish thinks about the welcome party at the temple. "You'd be surprised."

"I almost died today." For a second, neither of them realise they've written the same sentence. They make the connection to Belgrave and Rogwan. Neither are sure that other is saying that because they met the demon and did stupidly dangerous things or because they knew about the Excidium. Neither asks that question. "I almost died today and one of the biggest regrets I would've had was that I never got to see the face behind all the stories I've come to adore." "I know." "We should try to find each other." "We should."

But they don't. Anonymity protects them, it keeps them safe and it keeps their soulmates away from the dangers of the Order and the Knights -- so they think.

Instead, Hamish talks about losing Lilith. He calls her his feisty, brash, smart and loving little sister. He cries. Vera watches the ink run. Vera thinks about Lilith, about the sacrifice she made so that the Vera wouldn't perform the Excidium. Vera's sure that Lilith didn't do it for her or for Belgrave, but for the Knight down in the corridor with her and the knights running around Belgrave with no fear. Regardless, Lilith is what stopped the Excidium and a great deal of people owe her their lives -- Vera included. Vera thinks about Jack watching the portal swallow Lilith up whole. Vera thinks about Hamish having to carry her loss. Vera thinks about Randall having to soldier on without one of the few people who have never judged him about anything. The ink runs on their arms, but not just from Hamish's tears.

Late one night, Hamish can't sleep and watches the words write themselves om his arm. "I thought about her today. But it was so so powerful. Like being physically hit with those memories. You'd think by now I'd have come to terms with it--" "You can't keep blaming yourself." "Knowing that doesn't change the fact that I do and I will." "I know. Do you want to talk about her?" And Vera talks about her daughter until she falls asleep. Hamish reads the words filled with love and loss and adoration and joy until he falls asleep too.

When Foley and Salvador attack, behind thinking about what the hell will happen to the Knights and the Order without them, Vera and Hamish keep hoping that their soulmate doesn't start panicking. Vera recovers from Foley first and leaves a message. She needs someone to talk to, someone who won't feel the consequences of knowing and someone she knows will never turn her weaknesses against her. Hours later, she tries again when there's no response. As time ticks by, she starts getting restless. Not only is Hamish missing, but now so is her soulmate.

Once Jack and Randall break Hamish out, to keep himself from storming up and tearing Foley apart, he lifts his sleeve. Shit. "Randall do you have a pen?"

"Why would I have a -- yeah, okay, I do. Here."

"Sorry," he writes, "got a little held up and I lost my marker. Are you okay?"

Vera is slightly relieved. One of them is okay. But Hamish is still missing. "Waiting on someone. He's not supposed to be gone this long."

In her worrisome state, Vera doesn't notice that the pen ink is vanishing just as fast as thr washable marker. If she had been paying it any attention, she would have come to the conclusion that Order member or not, her soulmate was a practitioner.

"Is everyone okay?" She stares at Hamish, relief flooding her body. Damnit, she wasn't supposed to get attached to someone. She didn't think she could do that. But what was there to do now?

"Hey, I've got something to tell you." "Go on." "Remember that girl I told you about last year?" "Yes." "I think" Vera waits for the rest of the sentence. "You think?" "I really like her."

Vers suddenly doesn't feel guilty about Hamish anymore. She sits up in her bed. "Tell me all about her." "You sure you won't get jealous?" Vera laughs to herself. "I won't if you don't." "Oh! Someone has a new boyfriend!" "Maybe. Now tell me about this girl."

And Hamish starts. And Hamish cannot stop. Vera's watched his wipe his arm already three times and he still hasn't stopped. When he pauses, Vera takes the chance to write "You don't like her." "I do, though." "No, you don't. You LOOOVE her!" Vera can't shake the image that if they were sitting together and speaking, she would have sprinted away by now to avoid the attacks her teasing would bring. It makes her smile.

"Shut up! Tell me about your new boyfriend." "He's not my boyfriend." "Yet." Vera pauses. "We'll see." "Tell me about him."

Vera starts. And Vera cannot stop. Hamish watches the words appear and can't help falling in love with the way she loves this man. "Someone's in luuurve!" "Am not." "Are too." "Whatever."

He thinks about Vera. You don't like her, you love her. Maybe. Yeah, maybe he does.

"I lost her. I could've helped her and I didn't." "I don't think there was anything you could've done more. You said she was attacked." "I drove her away. I pushed her into leaving the one place that could've prevented the attack. And I couldn't save her. I just I can't keep losing people. This cult is poison. I thought I could make it better. I thought I could take it by the reigns and guide it. Instead I keep getting the younger ones killed." "It's not your fault." "I could honestly really use a drink right now but I already sent the boyfriend home. He's gone some stuff to deal with too. His family is . . . hinging on broken."

Vera wonders if he fell asleep when there's no response. She lays her head on her upper arm, looking at the words on her forearm. And then they vanish. Like . . . like magic. How the hell had she never noticed before?? Very slowly, new letters form

V . . . e . . . r . . . a . . . ?

Vera shoots up and sits straight, holding her arm. What the fuck? What the fuck did I say that gave me away?? And who the fuck knows me well enough to figure me out based on something I said??

Vera is grateful for the distraction her phone brings as it lights up with a text -- from Hamish. "I heard you could use a drink."

Vera tiptoes downstairs warily, relieved to find Hamish behind her counter with a drink in front of him. A drink for her.

"I thought I sent you to the den. The knights--"

"Are all asleep. You, on the other hand, aren't."

Vera takes a seat at the counter, hands around the glass. As Hamish tidies up, she catches sight of his bare forearm, where her name is written in the same hand writing as on her own arm. When his back is turned, she uncaps the marker and writes, Hamish?

He laughs softly to himself. Then, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Alyssa."

"Do you want to talk about Lilith?"

"You're right, a distraction would be better."

And distract each other, they did.

I might write this one out oop

See other soulmate aus I've attacked

[stennnn06]

andrea x kara

Kara breathed a sigh of relief as she hit ‘print’ on her article. The deadline had been looming over her all day, catching up to her the way it always seemed to -- too quickly and with little warning. Between putting out fires at work and putting out literal fires as Supergirl, Andrea’s click bait articles were being pushed aside more often than not. But somehow she managed to get it all wrapped up with a few short minutes to spare, which meant she wasn’t going to have to dance her away through asking for an extension. A small blessing. 

She glanced around and swallowed heavily, realizing there was only one other light on in the entire office. 

Great. Instead of being able to leave her piece on Andrea’s desk, it seemed like tonight called for a face to face visit. 

Of course Andrea Rojas would choose tonight of all nights to be at CatCo. Her schedule was nothing if not unpredictable, although Kara was starting to catch on to a pattern. It was almost like Andrea knew when Kara would be stressed and cramming, and she chose those particular nights to be available. Kara felt like Andrea rather enjoyed tearing her articles apart while looking her in the eye with that sarcastic, happy smile on her face that read as anything but pleased or content. 

Kara wanted to like Andrea. She was brilliant, capable, very put together and more than a little intimidating. And maybe, under any other circumstance, she would like her. Or at least, she’d give her a lot more leeway. But Andrea wasn’t Lena, and that was always going to be where her mind went, no matter how unfair it was. Not to mention, CatCo under Andrea’s control was a completely different situation and she seemed to thrive on making it all difficult. She was bossy, and had a vision that Kara couldn’t get on board with, no matter how many directions she tried to spin it. 

Her most recent article-- a ‘Would You Rather’ fluff piece that she would rather not write-- practically burned in her hands as she walked across the hallway, thinking about all the ways Andrea was going to cut it to pieces. 

She paused at her office door, bracing herself and trying to plaster a smile on her face. It felt like a grimace, and she was sure it looked just as bad, but it was all she could do to keep appearances.

Andrea was sitting on her couch, nursing a drink, staring hard at her laptop with her jaw clenched and her eyebrows furrowed so deeply the lines were practically sculpted in her forehead. Her cheeks were tear-stained, her mascara slightly running. It seemed like a horrible time to intrude, and Kara really didn’t want to bother but--

Andrea cleared her throat. 

“Kara,” she said, noticing her. Her voice was soft and watery with disuse and something more. Something heavy. “Do you have that article for me?”

Kara nodded lamely, walking into the office. She avoided Andrea’s eyes as she handed it out for her to take. Andrea took it in silence, but Kara noticed the way her eyes seemed red-rimmed and misty, her lips pursed in a frown that was more than just focused. 

Andrea didn’t say anything as she read through, the way she almost always did. She didn’t offer a quip or a dig at Kara’s rushed writing. She simply marked it with a pen and handed it back with a trembling hand. 

“Have the edits to me before 9am,” she directed, not bothering to look at Kara’s face. 

Kara nodded, taking the article back. She had every intention to turn around and walk away, but she knew she would feel guilty if she didn’t even try to ask what was wrong. In an effort to avoid Andrea’s eyes, she accidentally glanced at her laptop where a confusing collage of pictures stared back at her. Pictures of Andrea and…

Kara’s heart stammered. Lena’s eyes stared back at her with their usual intensity, her playful smirk almost taunting. 

“Are you--” Kara cleared her throat. Andrea looked up, her eyes narrowing. “Okay?”

“Are any of us?” Andrea replied, her words lazy and slow. She chuckled. “Don’t answer that.” She noticed her laptop and, as if remembering this was not entirely appropriate, slammed it shut. She took a long sip of her drink and swallowed with the smallest trace of a grimace. Kara chuckled awkwardly at the rhetorical question, not sure what the right answer would even be to something teetering on the edge of existential. 

Andrea reached over and pulled out the rest of the bottle of whiskey. She gestured at the bottle and Kara shrugged. She felt obligated to stay at this point, so what was the harm in a perfectly useless drink?

Mostly, she was curious what Lena had to do with forcing Andrea to the brink of a meltdown. If anyone should be crying over Lena, well--

Andrea stood up and pulled out another glass, filling them both with a generous pour. She handed one to Kara and walked back to the couch. She was deliberate and controlled, though Kara could tell she was tipsy. Kara followed and sat down awkwardly, staring at the amber liquid in her glass as if it held the answer to how the hell this entire conversation was going to go. 

“I know you think I’m heartless,” Andrea said after a beat, her words slurring slightly. It hit Kara in such a way that her heart dropped. “I don’t have your respect.”

“I d-don’t—“ she stammered. “I don’t think that.” Sure, she questioned Andrea’s business decisions, and sometimes her priorities, but to say she’s heartless? That was a bit steep. “And you do have my respect, Andrea. You’re my boss, of course I respect you.”

“You’re a bad liar,” Andrea replied, rolling her eyes slowly. She sighed before adding, “Lena told me about you.”

“She told you--” Kara repeated, her face growing hot. Her stomach felt immediately queasy, just at the mention of Lena’s name. “She told you about me?”

Andrea nodded, a wry smile on her face. “She told me you wear your heart on your sleeve, and that was what made you so special.”

Kara gulped down a larger than normal sip of her drink and tried to look as if she wasn’t dying inside. Just the mention of Lena was enough to spike her blood pressure.

“Lena said that?”

Andrea pursed her lips and nodded. “Don’t be like me,” she practically whimpered, and Kara’s heart broke for inexplicable reasons. “Don’t hurt her. She clearly cares about you.”

Kara felt the knife twist in her stomach. She looked at the floor, but everything felt like it was spinning.

“This was never how I imagined my life going.” Andrea spoke as if Kara wasn’t even in the room anymore, which was honestly ideal. She simply let her talk. “Everything I’ve ever done, I’ve done for love. And look where that got me.”

“But you’re so successful,” Kara argued, remembering why she was even there. Andrea was clearly having a night. “You run two of the biggest companies in the world. You have to be proud of that.”

“And when I go home, I have nothing to show for it,” Andrea raised her glass. “I have no one.”

“That’s not true,” Kara tried, but it sounded unconvincing. She didn’t know Andrea well enough to make a case, though she had a feeling if she was a friend of Lena’s, she had to have something good in her. 

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” Andrea shook her head, sniffling slightly. 

“You can talk to me,” Kara assured her. “Whatever you need.”

The tears started falling, and Andrea didn’t do anything to stop them. She hiccuped back a sob, before surrendering to the feeling. Kara opened her arms and let Andrea bury her face in her shoulder.

There was silence for a few moments while Kara held her. She tried to comprehend the fact that her normally stoic and snarky boss was now falling apart in her arms, and there was nothing Kara could do or say to make it better. It was unnerving to see Andrea so broken.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Andrea asked quietly after awhile, her breath hot and tangy against Kara’s neck. 

“Um,” Kara swallowed, adjusting slightly. “Sure.”

“You sort of remind me of Supergirl.”

The words were abrupt, and not at all what Kara was expecting. She involuntarily flexed at the implication, like she was bracing for impact. 

“Whaaaat? I do? That’s—ha--that’s crazy.”

“It’s your arms,” Andrea said softly, leaning into Kara more. “You have strong arms.” 

“Oh, that’s--” Kara swallowed, trying to process the unexpected -- and dangerous -- compliment. “Thanks, I think.”

Andrea smelled like a gentle combination of spices and a hint of whiskey. Kara was suddenly very conscious of how close they were sitting. 

“Mmhm,” Andrea pulled her gaze from Kara’s eyes and fixed on her arms. She squeezed around her bicep and grinned. “I’ve met her, you know. Supergirl.”

“Oh yeah?”

Andrea closed her eyes with a dreamy smile on her face, and Kara could feel her face growing hotter. 

“Anyway,” Andrea shook herself out of her reverie and cleared her throat. She seemed to realize where she was, and who she was with, and it caused her to pull back. She stood up and ran a cautious hand through her hair. When she faced Kara again, she looked annoyed. “It’s a compliment. Just take it.”

Kara nodded, adjusting her glasses awkwardly as she stood. She didn’t know what else to say and it was about a thousand degrees in Andrea’s office. She started to head for the door, but before she could leave, she felt like she had to say something. She settled with, “You know, you have a lot to be proud of. And I really hope you find what you’re looking for.”

She offered what she hoped was a genuine smile, because she could tell Andrea needed it. Instead, she was met with a skeptical look in return. 

“Actually,” Andrea cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to decipher a code. “It’s your smile.”

“My--”

“That’s what resembles Supergirl the most,” Andrea clarified. “It sparkles like hers does.” 

She stared a bit longer before drawing even with Kara’s eyes again. She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Maybe you’re a better liar than I think, Kara Danvers.”

[dubersbutt]

He Doesn’t Have to Know - Nathan Mackinnon

Summary: Nate is a bartender working a slow shift when you walk in.

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: cheating, smut, the works

Tuesday nights. Nate had a love-hate relationship with the shift. On one hand, he mostly got paid to sit around and do nothing because hardly anyone showed up. On the other hand, few people meant few tips, and he got bored really easily.

He and Ej are messing around in the back when you walk in. He “accidentally” poured a glass of water on Ej’s chest which created a dilemma when your uniform consisted of a thin white dress shirt.

“Are you kidding me, man,” he says as he rolls his eyes, “you gotta take her, man. I can’t go out like this.”

“Are you sure?” Nate teases, “you might get a bigger tip looking like that, Magic Mike.”

“Shut up and go, dumbass.”

Nate laughs as he walks out the door. The first thing he notices about you is how well you’re dressed - which isn’t surprising considering everyone who comes here is rich and he assumes you’re no different. The second thing the notices is the gigantic ring on your finger, a ring that screamed “TAKEN” from a mile away.

“Evening ma’am,” he greets, “what can I get you?”

He watches your eyes travel up and down his body. Nate’s a good looking guy - played hockey when he was younger, goes to the gym every day - and his uniform hugs him in all the right places. Sure he could go up a size in shirts, but if he’s totally honest, he doesn’t mind the stares.

“Cosmo,” you say after a slight pause.

“Yes ma’am,” he starts on your drink and your smile. That’s when he notices, your nails, lipstick and dress are all the same shade of deep red that compliments your skin tone.

“Pretty lonely down here,” you say as he hands you his drink.

He shrugs, “I don’t mind. It means that I can talk with a pretty girl like you.”

So Nate flirted with married women every once in a while. He needed the tips!

“Oh, I bet you say that to all the ladies,” you reply as you bring your drink to your lips.

“Only the breathtakingly beautiful ones,” and he’s not lying. He doesn’t really flirt with anyone he doesn’t find attractive. And you were striking.

Just then, an immaculately dressed man walks in. His suit is some high-end brand Nate doesn’t know the name of but can recognize that it probably costs the same amount he paid for his car. His shoes are some soft leather without any creases and the face of his watch takes up his entire wrist. Dude was bougie.

He walks over to you and gives you a kiss on the cheek. So this must be the owner of the ring, Nate thinks.

“What can I get for you, sir?”

“Didn’t my wife already order for me,” he asks as he pulls out his phone and starts scrolling.

“No, sir.”

“Maybe you weren’t listening,” he replies as he taps his ear.

Nate takes a deep breath but you cut in before he can say anything.

“No, dear, your drink order changes every night, how would I know what you wanted,”  if Nate’s not mistaken there’s a slight bite to your voice.

The other man rolls his eyes, “scotch, neat.”

Nate takes a deep breath as he gets out the glass and realizes he never specified which scotch he wanted. He chooses the most expensive one and pours it into the glass. He slides it across the bar, which is the best part of his job even when the customers are dicks.

“I asked for this on the rocks,” he says he shakes the drink in Nate’s face.

Nate knows he didn’t but he’s also been doing this long enough to realize there’s no point in arguing and takes the glass to put one of the large round ice cubes from the freezer.

“Anything else I can get you?” Nate asks and prays that’s all you need.

“That’s all for now,” you say, cutting off your husband and Nate rushes to the back before he can say anything.

“Douchebag?” EJ asks while rubbing a towel on his still damp chest.

“Obviously.”

“You should have punched him.”

“I wanted to,” Nate replies as he runs his hand through his hair.

He and Ej chat for 20 minutes before Nate knows he should go out to check on you two. He tries to get Ej to do it but-

“I would rather stick my foot in the fryer than talk that man.”

And Nate would feel bad if Ej stuck his foot in the dryer because of him so he goes out instead.

When he gets outside his drink is relatively untouched and he has a stack of money in his hand.

“The cheque,” he demands and Nate walks over to the till to print it.

Thankfully he doesn’t have an argument about the prices - Nate really doesn’t think he can handle the “I just work here I don’t run the place” conversation right now.

“Are you coming with me?” he asks you after placing money in the cheque book. Surprise, surprise, he’s a lousy tipper.

“I’ve barely touched my drink.”

“Well I have to go, I’ll see you at home?”

You just nod your head and extend your neck for him to kiss your cheek. You watch as he leaves and as soon as he’s out the door you turn to Nate.

“I’m sorry about my husband,” you say holding a small piece of paper in between your fingers, “he’s a...difficult man. This should make up for his behaviour.”

He takes it and when he unfolds it he sees a 50 dollar bill.

“Are you su-“ he starts to ask but you hold up a hand, stopping him.

“Take it,” and so he does.

He starts to clean up your husband’s dishes, picking up the glass and dropping the contents in the sink. Such a waste of good scotch he thinks sadly.

“Now I hope you know that a 50 dollar tip means that you have to stay out here and talk to me.”

“I would’ve done it for free,” and he would’ve.

“It’s a small price to pay to watch your ass in that suit,” you say bringing your cup to your lips and smirking at him over the rim.

He almost drops the glass.

“Aren’t you married?”

You shrug, “he’s out right now parading himself with other women. He thinks he’s discreet but he’s not. If he can do it, why can’t I?”

Nate walks over to the bar to stand in front of you. He tries to think of anything witty to say at all but is at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable,” you say, “I never was good at holding my tongue.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so absolutely stunning,” he says with a slight shrug.

You laugh, “careful there, Nathaniel,” he assumes you read his name card on his chest, his boss doesn’t allow them to put nicknames on the card, “you’re flirting with a married woman.”

“You said yourself that he’s with other women, so what’s the harm in a little flirting.”

“What time do you end here, Nathaniel?”

“Not until 1 but I can probably get out of here sooner for you…”

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N),” he finishes, “give me a few minutes.”

He sprints to the back room and pushes open the door, startling EJ.

“Was she a dick too?” he asks.

“No, actually, she gave me a 50 dollar tip and invited me to her apartment so, uh, I’m gonna head out. You’ll be fine here right?” he says so quickly he barely understands himself.

Ej just blinks, “I’m sorry she what? Invited you to her apartment?”

“Yeah, or house, or whatever. She didn’t exactly explain what she wanted to do I just assumed she meant hooking up,” he says and realizes he might be an idiot.

Ej gives him a look, “what if she’s an axe murderer.”

“Well then I read the situation very wrong, but I don’t think I did,” he grabs his coat from the coat hook, “do me a favour though if I don’t respond to you by noon tomorrow then call the cops.”

Ej sighs, “fine but I get half your tips next time we work together cause you're leaving me alone.”

“Not half.”

“Fine a quarter.”

He really doesn’t want to do that but he really, really does not want to keep you waiting so he agrees and pulls on his coat as he leaves.

“I’m good to go,” he says as he hears Ej follow him out.

“Perfect,” you say as you down the rest of your drink and hop down from the barstool.

He follows you out of the restaurant, appreciating the way your dress hugs your body. If you turned out to be an axe murderer he was going to be so mad.

“So, uh where’s your apartment?” He asks once the chilly Denver air hits him.

“Patience, Nathaniel,” you say as you start walking, “can I call you that?”

He doesn’t usually like people calling him by his full name, but it sounds so good from you so he doesn’t mind it.

“I only ask because it’s a bit of a mouthful to scream, isn’t it?”

Nate has to take a deep breath to stop himself from pressing you up against the wall right there and then, “Nate, is good too.”

You grab his hand and lead him into your apartment building moments later. Your hand stays loosely attached to his wrist as you greet the security guard and walk into the elevator.

He’s taken by surprise when the doors close and you pull him close to press your lips to his gently. You’ve undone his jacket before he realizes it.

You take a perfectly manicured finger down his thin dress shirt. His breath catches in his throat when you pull him closer by his belt loops.

“This shirt is too tight on you, you know.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at all,” you reply as to bring him in for another kiss.

He holds you against the wall, kissing you slowly until the elevator doors open.

When the doors open you’re greeted by a small fluffy black cat that runs into the elevator, purring as it rubs itself against your ankles.

“Hi, baby,” you coo as you pick it up and walk out, “the bedroom is the last door on the left. I need to check on her food, be naked by the time I get there.”

Nate follows your instructions and sure enough, the last door on the left is the master bedroom. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was expected but you have the biggest bed he’d ever seen. He strips out of his shirt and pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He lounges on the bed and, honestly, it’s so comfortable he almost falls asleep.

He hears the door open and then you’re stepping into the room and throwing yourself on his lap.

“Fuck you’re hot,” you say as you straddle his waist and lean down to kiss him, “but this is not naked.”

You snap his briefs against his skin lightly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

You hum against his skin as you trail kisses his down his neck. He lets out a small moan your teeth scrape against his neck. You slide down his body, kissing as you go. His dick is just trying to chub in his briefs when you settle yourself between his legs. He lifts his hips to help him shimmy out of them.

He’s not expecting it when you jerk him slowly, teasing him. You wrap your lips around the tip, looking at him as you suck hard. His hand comes to grip the back of your head. His hips come up to thrust down your throat but you push his hips down with your hands.

“Nuh-uh,” you say as you pull off his dick, “Be good.”

“What if I’m not?”

“Then I’ll spank you,” you wink at him before you take him back into your throat.

He can’t tell if you’re joking but the thought shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does.

He tries to even out his breathing when you push your head past the sphincter of your throat and his fingers are scratching at the back of your head. Your hands are still holding his hips, nails digging into them. He moans as your mouth gets more and more wet. He wants to buck hips but you keep him from doing so. Spit and pre-cum dribble out the side of your mouth. Your eyes water as you fuck yourself on his cock. He has to pull on your head to get you to stop before he blows his load.

“You could have cum on my face,” and Nate almost cums right then and there.

“As good as that sounds, I really want to fuck you.”

You let out a short laugh as you crawl up his body to kiss him. His hands come up to caress your body when he realizes that you’re still wearing your dress. He wants to rip it off you but it probably costs more than his rent so he asks you to take it off.

The second the straps fall from your shoulder, he’s reaching up to bite at the exposed skin of your shoulder.

“No marks,” you say while pulling on the short hair at the back of his neck.

“It looks like your cat clawed my hips,” he says as he helps pull the dress off your body.

You let out an annoyed huff, “That’s different.”

When the dress is off he flips you over, kissing the valley between your breasts. He reaches around you to unclasp your bra, unhooking it with practised ease.

“Got a lot of experience there, Nathaniel?” you tease.

He just smirks and slips his hand in between your legs, under the waistband of your thong. He finger dips between your folds and he lets out a groan when he feels how wet you are.

“All this just from blowing me?” he groans huskily in your ear, “I wonder what would happen if you sat on my face.”

You whine, “Fuck, next time, I just want you to fuck me.”

He pumps his finger in and out a few times before he lines himself with your entrance and pushes in slowly. You tap on his ass to tell him to move and he wastes no time, fucking you hard and heavy. Each thrust pushes a moan out of you.

“Nate,” you moan as he reaches up and grips the headboard for leverage. He can feel you clenching around him. He reaches down to rub circles into your clit which makes you wrap your legs around his body.

Another moan leaves your body, “Nate, Nate, Nate don’t stop.”

“Cum for me baby,” he groans in your ear. He can’t wrap his hand around your throat like he wants so he’ll settle for gripping your chin to kiss you furiously. He’s conflicted between wanting to hear your moans and wanting to keep kissing you.

Your hands claw at his neck and shoulders as you near your orgasm, dropping your head back to savour the pleasure.

“Come all over me, baby,” he grunts and that’s all you need before you come hard, jerking in his arms as your orgasm hits you. Nate can feel your juices coating his thighs and that’s what makes him lose it, fucking into as he cums. A shiver runs down your spins as you feel him spill himself into you.

It takes him a minute to catch his breath before he slips out of you and lays down beside you. You catch his chin in your hand and turn his head to so you can kiss him. He grips your hip and pulls you in by hiking your thigh over his body. The two of you make out lazily for a while before you untangle yourself from the tangle of limbs.

“Get comfy, I’ll be back in a while.”

He hears the tap running in the bathroom, but he’s asleep before you return.

~~~

He’s awoken by you ripping the covers off him.

“Get up,” you demand.

He’s still half asleep, “What? What’s going on?”

“You need to leave,” you insist as you throw his briefs and slacks at him, “my husband is early. He’s going to be in the lobby and then up the elevator and if you’re not gone in less than  2 minutes, it’s not going to end well.”

Nate scrambles to pull his pants over his thighs and doesn’t bother to do up his belt. He’s reaching for his shirt when you take his hand and lead him through the apartment - er, penthouse, whatever. You’re going so fast Nate nearly trips over the cat.

“Here,” she says opening a door at the end of the hall, “follow this hall and there’s a stairwell. When you go down two floors you can take the elevator down - or keep walking, I don't care.”

You throw the remaining clothes at him.

“Wait-” the door slams shut.

[shedreamsofstars]

Dear Diary

SonAmy Week 2019 - Dear Diary

“And … that’s the last of it,” Sonic said as the can he’d just thrown tumbled into a nearby trashcan with a loud clatter.

With all their friends enjoying themselves in the sunshine and plenty of snack food to keep their hunger at bay, it was no surprise that the place had been a mess of strewn cups and forgotten plates by the time most of the group had left.

Sonic, realising with a start that he was responsible for at least half of the food that had been thrown around, had kindly offered to stay behind and lend a hand with the clean-up operation.

With both him and Amy working at it and just a hint of super speed to help things along their way, both hedgehogs now stood beside a spick and span picnic bench, their two wicker baskets stacked atop with the leftover snacks. Only the few stray crumbs in the grass betrayed any notion of their ever having occupied the space and Sonic was proud of their attempts

“We’re done already?” Amy said with surprise, glancing around her as if she wasn’t sure how the messy picnic area from earlier had been transformed into the grassy paradise it was now.

“Hey, they don’t call me the fastest thing alive for nothing you know,” Sonic said, pointing a boasty thumb towards his chest. Amy resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she headed to grab a basket, looping her arms into the handles of the top one.

“I can carry both if you want,” Sonic offered. “I don’t mind.”

Amy shook her head. “That’s okay Sonic. I’d feel bad if I wasn’t helping out too.” The basket handles slid down her arm and she smiled brightly at him. “Alright, ready to go?”

Sonic nodded, grabbing the remaining basket and following after the girl. A force of habit had him scanning the space behind as they left and that’s when he spotted it. “Oh, wait a second,” he said suddenly, turning back to the table. “You forgot your book Ames. It was under the basket I think.”

Amy turned back with a light frown. “Huh? I didn’t bring a book …”

Sonic picked up the black book from the table and spun it in his hands. There was no title printed on it, the dark cover as nondescript as they came. Amy’s head popped up beside his shoulder. “If it’s not yours then…” He cracked it open, eyes widening in surprise at the hand-written letters that looped across the pages.

“What’s the name of the book?”

“Actually, I think it’s someone’s diary or journal or something,” Sonic replied, flicking through to find more pages filled with the same cursive writing.

“A diary? Whose?”

“I’m not sure. Let me check,” Sonic said, stopping on a random page near the beginning of the book. “Dear diary, today was another bust-”

The book slammed shut in his hands, narrowly missing his fingers. “Not like that,” Amy exclaimed, removing the diary from his grasp and tucking it under her arm for safekeeping.

“Hey, I was reading that!” Sonic groaned, genuinely intrigued as to who had forgotten their diary at the picnic.

“I know. That’s why I took it off you. It’s not yours to read Sonic,” Amy replied with a shake of her head.

Sonic looked ready to argue but changed his mind as her words rang true, nodding in agreement. “Ah, I guess you’re right. But how else am I supposed to find out who it belongs to?”

Amy blinked in thought. “I mean … I suppose we could check the first and last page for a name. But that’s it!” she warned as Sonic slipped the book away from her.

“Nope. Nothing,” he confirmed, closing the book as he realised Amy was watching him like a hawk. “I wasn’t gonna peek,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her as he handed it back.

Amy’s gaze softened. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You have a diary too don’t you Ames?”

She nodded.

“What kind of things do you write in it?”

The girl blushed bright red as the question caught her completely off guard. “Oh, n-nothing important.”

“Nothing important huh,” he said, scratching at his back quills in thought. “Then I guess it won’t matter too much if I really do read this one. If it’s nothing important, I’m sure you’d let me read yours too.”

Amy squeaked in alarm. “No, no. We don’t need to read anyone’s diary,” she said, clutching the book a little tighter in her fingers.

“Alright fine, whatever,” Sonic said nonchalantly. “Let’s just go and drop it off at the Town Hall. I’m pretty sure they have a lost and found there or something.”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll can take it later.”

“We can take it now if you want,” Sonic said, realising that he still had more things he wanted to say to Amy. She looked just as surprised as he felt by his own actions.

“Really?”

“Course,” he said casually. “What if you get bored alone and decide to get nosy, who will stop you from invading another’s privacy if not me?” He waved her ahead with a cocky grin. “After you.”

“How chivalrous of you,” Amy deadpanned, a disappointed look in her eyes as she stepped out ahead of him. Sonic walked a few steps behind, frowning at the back of her head as he pondered her reaction.

She had seemed really on edge when he’d brought up that she had a diary too, turning a brighter shade of red than a tomato, but he still wasn’t sure …

“So …” he called out. “Your diary, huh?”

Amy spared him a glance over her shoulder as she continued to walk on. “What about it?”

“I’m curious …” he said, trying not to sound too invested in her answer. “What do you write in it? I know you said ‘nothing important’ but that doesn’t really seem your style.”

Amy stopped mid-step and Sonic grunted in surprise, almost walking right into her. He managed to side step at the last moment only to realise she was watching him with a strange look on her face.

“Why do you say that?” she asked, levelling that curious gaze of hers at him directly. He resisted the urge to balk and run, reminding himself that he couldn’t very well run off with her basket. The least he could do was explain himself, at least until he’d made sure she made it home safely.

“Well … I figure you wouldn’t write something down to keep forever, unless it was so important that you never wanted to forget it.”

Amy blinked at him, and feeling awkward, he reached out with a smile and took the basket she held off her hands just to keep his own busy. The pink hedgehog didn’t protest, seemingly lost in thought.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Sonic said, nudging her gently with his arm to get them back on their way. “It’s your diary, you can write whatever you want for whatever reason. You don’t need to explain it to me.”

An awkward silence descended on them and Sonic mentally berated himself for ever pushing the subject in the first place. Her expression had just seemed so open earlier, he couldn’t resist it.

They’d made it half-way to the town-hall before Amy broke the silence, flipping the diary from hand to hand.

“You’re right. I do write about things because I don’t want to forget them,” she said slowly. “I write about you … I mean, I write about everyone,” she clarified quickly, “because I want to keep the memories safe. Does that sound really dumb?”

“Of course not,” Sonic said without hesitation. “I think it’s really cool. It’s not really my thing, but I can see why it’s perfect for you.”

“You can?” Amy replied softly, her green eyes wide with delight.

“Yeah. I mean, where else are you going to write about what an incredibly heroic heartthrob I am,” he joked, getting uncomfortable with the change in the atmosphere between them. As much as he was starting to enjoy her company, being friends with Amy was all he wanted right then.

She hummed in response. “Are you sure you haven’t already read my diary, because that line sounds awfully familiar,” she said with a serious expression.

“Wait, w-what?!” Sonic spluttered, but before he could get a response Amy pointed excitedly at the building ahead of them.

“Oh look, we’re here!” she said, grabbing a hold of his arm and all but dragging him inside with the two baskets dangling off both his arms. It was a moment’s work to locate the ‘Lost and Found’ section and the pair quickly placed the diary in the hastily labelled box.

“Goodbye diary that I’ll never get to read,” Sonic sighed sadly as they turned to leave, smiling as he noticed Amy rolling her eyes at him. “Hey, I saw that,” he said as they made their way back outside and began the remaining trek.

“Oh. I can take a basket back if you want,” she said brightly.

“Don’t try and distract me,” Sonic said with narrowed eyes, pulling the baskets closer to himself. Amy almost managed to take it off him, but he lifted them into the air and out of her grasp, almost tumbling to the ground himself.

Even still, he held on tight to them as the pair bickered about it on their way to Amy’s. “It’s still not fair,” Amy moaned as they turned the corner, wringing her empty hands since she’d still unsuccessfully retrieved a basket.

“Nah, your just too slow,” Sonic commented in response, enjoying the shocked look on her face. He expected her to whack out that hammer of hers any second now, but instead Amy’s gaze caught on someone ahead of them.

“Hey Shadow,” she chirped happily as Sonic grumbled his own reluctant ‘hello’ as he recognised the hedgehog heading towards them. The dark hedgehog mumbled words that could have been mistaken for a greeting as he passed them, otherwise ignoring the pair completely.

“Yeesh. Do you think he’s still mad that I threw the last mini sandwich and accidentally hit the back of his head?”

“Accidentally?!” Amy said with a disbelieving scoff.

“You can’t prove anything,” Sonic sniffed, flicking the tip of his nose. His brow dipped into a frown and he glanced over his shoulder at Shadow’s retreating form. “Hey wait. You don’t think …”

Sonic didn’t even need to finish his sentence for Amy to catch on. She followed his line of sight to where Shadow was turning the corner, heading in the direction of the Town Hall. And the diary.

“No,” Amy said with a nervous laugh. “No, of course not.”

Sonic shrugged in response, kicking the idea right out of his mind. “So … will you ever tell me what you wrote about me in your dia – huh. Amy, where are you going?!” Sonic called as he turned to see his pink counterpart running off in the direction they’d just came from.

“I have to know!” she called over her shoulder and Sonic grinned widely.

“Hey, wait up!” He adjusted the two baskets in his hands, gearing up to use that famous speed of his. This was something he definitely couldn’t miss.

...xxx...

I don’t even know what this is anymore lol, but I had fun writing it. I hope that you guys are enjoying all the other incredible SonAmy week content (I know I am!) Time to go work on the next one.

Thanks for reading and let me know your thoughts if you can spare a moment. Until next time folks, chao :)  

[xiaq]

Q&A:

Hello! Sorry for the belated question-answering. My concussion symptoms got a lot worse for a hot second, but I’m feeling better now and ready to tackle my inbox. So I have over 30 academic-related questions and they mostly fall into these groups:

Can I read your dissertation/are you going to publish it?

Yes! And hopefully. The plan is to publish it as a book once it is complete, but even if that doesn’t happen I’ll share it (maybe even on AO3) with anyone who wants to read it.

What is your dissertation about?

That is a dangerous question. The shortest possible answer: my dissertation is essentially an ethnographic study of the interconnected online platforms that facilitate transformative digital fan culture and the people that use them. I consider fic literature and fic archives repositories for both this textual literature but also the metatextual and paratextual elements of fan culture. My focus is on the AO3 as a groundbreaking archive that has changed how transformative fandom operates, is treated legally, and is viewed publicly.

How are you getting a PhD in fandom? Is that a thing? Did you take classes for it?

Fandom studies is a thing! When you get an English PhD you specialize in certain things, and fandom studies is one of my specialties. Alas, I did not take classes in it, though I did do a significant amount of directed reading on my own/in preparation for exams. PhD coursework prepares you for the broad range of English classes you may be called upon to teach as a professor. So I took multiple courses in my primary fields (see below) but only took classes for my first two subfields. I also took Victorian lit, British lit, American lit, etc.

What did you take your quals in?

Primary Fields: (these are things that make colleges want to hire you)

Book history/archival (focus movement from print-digital)

Feminist/queer theory

20/21st century lit

Subfields: (these are the things that you think are neat if not included in the things that will make colleges want to hire you)

disability studies

minority literature

comics studies

fandom studies

Where do you go to school?

SMU. In Dallas. We have great libraries and lots of white people who wear Vinyard Vines apparel.

You’re the xiaq that wrote LRPD/AHTU/Strut! Are you going to talk about your own fic in your dissertation? Yes. And yes! I’ll speak as a 3rd party academic observer in chapter 1-3 and 5, but chapter 4 will be a case study/interlude where I speak in depth about my experience writing and posting LRPD (https://archiveofourown.org/works/11304786?view_full_work=true). I’m doing this for 2 reasons: 1. The project asserts that there is nothing shameful about participating in fandom and fan works/archives ought to be shown respect and appreciation. I want both fandom folks and academic folks to know that I’m “all in” as it were. 2. When I sat down with my chair to plan my case study chapter, we decided I needed a “top-ranked” work within any moderate to large fandom with over 50,000 hits and over 5,000 comments, and I needed to ask the author detailed questions about their writing, editing, posting, sharing, and comment-answering/interactive habits. LRPD fits that criteria and I don’t have to ask anyone else invasive questions.

Who all have you interviewed?

Cesperanza/Astolat and a couple other AO3 founding folks. Several people currently volunteering for the OTW, one of the volunteer coordinators, communications staff, and a LOT of fan writers (over 50 at this point)—including BNFs like Kryptaria, Earlgreytea68, Emmagrant01 and (much) more. And then a bunch of academic folks too—Karen Hellekson, Abigail De Kosnik, Francesca Coppa, Rukmini Pande, Suzanne Scott (who is on my committee as an outside reader!) and more. Every single person I’ve spoken to was very kind and generous with their time and I love everyone in this bar.

And these were three specific questions that didn’t fall into those categories:

You look so young—is that just good genetics or did you skip a few grades?

Thank you! Well. I skipped getting my masters. Sort of. Most PhD programs require an undergraduate and a masters degree before you can apply. SMU is one of the few that does not and has an extended program that essentially gives folks straight from undergrad extra intensive coursework and a masters upon completion of 2 yrs in the program. It’s difficult to get accepted without a masters, so consider me an outlier and not the standard. I’m also on course to (hopefully) graduate a year early—which means I’ll have my doctorate before I turn 30! You too can be an overachiever with the help of OCD, anxiety, and sleep deprivation (not an endorsement, tho).

what does otw mean in your ao3 post about academics being assholes

Organization for Transformative Works! The OTW formed before the AO3 did. You can read more about it here: https://fanlore.org/wiki/Organization_for_Transformative_Works

Concerning your post on AO3 and the pettiness of academics - you mentioned the real, serious negative issues concerning AO3. Might you expand more on that? What do you find to be the negative aspects of AO3?

Ah yes. So there is one “big” thing that occasionally came up as a negative in my interviews and research. Fandom has a long and storied history of racism. It’s not isolated to the AO3, but several of the POC I spoke to said they dislike the fact that there’s no way to mark a work as racist, or warn others about it (usually, if an individual points out that, say, an author has treated Finn as a Big Black Dick and not, you know, a human being, the author isn’t particularly interested in noting that their own work is problematic. See also: slave AUs. Where Finn is a slave.Yikes.). While the majority of POC I spoke to didn’t advocate for some sort of censure of these works in the terms of use (some did), what most wanted was a way of being able to warn others, or receive a warning, that a work is racist. Implementing something like that is, obviously, complex (if not impossible) however. Personally? I doubt it will happen. Related, and perhaps more important, when POC tend to speak critically about the erasure or infantilization or animalization of non-white characters, white authors often 1. police tone rather than engage with the criticism, 2. focus more on defending themselves rather than actually examining their, maybe accidental, biases/stereotypes or 3. cry bullying or kinkshaming instead of actually listening to what POC are saying. Again, not an issue isolated to the AO3, but an issue nonetheless that we, as a community, need to recognize (for more on this history, check out, for example, https://fanlore.org/wiki/RaceFail_%2709). There’s also the whole “should illegal sexual things--like underage or pedophilia-- be allowed,” which I don’t have the energy to dissect right now, but the overwhelming majority of folks I spoke to were of the “if you don’t like it, don’t read works with that tag. If it’s not tagged correctly, close the tab” school of thought. The AO3 has always purported itself as a hosting, not a policing, organization, so I doubt that will ever change. 

[365daysoftododeku]

3rd July 2019

Author: Kenyoda

Admin’s Note: Hallo! If you’ve been following the Candid Shoutos series by @ebonyphd, here is a new update! The idea is inspired by @crzangel‘s headcanon here.

Warning: Mild mention of suicide attempt

________________________________________________________________

Suffering for S(omeone)ubscribers

Shouto found Izuku to be one of the most amazing people he had ever met. He still had a hard time believing that Izuku was so enamored with him. He was far from social, had enough baggage to fill a moving van, and far more practical than romantic. But Izuku still told him he loved him every morning, still whispered about how beautiful and sweet Shouto was when they were alone. Still mumbled about how lucky he was.

Honestly, Shouto often felt like he was the lucky one in the relationship. On top of all of Shouto’s internal flaws, he had plenty of external ones as well. He had a huge scar that took up a quarter of his face, and dripped down his chest, throat and back. On top of those, he had gained plenty more scars from training and fighting villains through his time in UA. The stress from everything often left him drained, pale… and his weight was dropping again. He hoped no one noticed. 

Izuku though, thrived on the action. He was at his best when he was saving people. Whether it was from a villain, a natural disaster, or simply the fear brought on by a nightmare, Izuku shined. The boy was born to be a hero. Shouto was not. He could admit that now. It wore on him in the worst way. But his boyfriend lived for it. 

Izuku’s usual nature made the present situation all the more confusing. 

They were currently sitting on Shouto’s futon, the laptop in front of them. A game was pulled up, which they had downloaded for a specific purpose. In the aftermath of their accidental relationship reveal, Shouto figured things would go downhill. But things just kind of continued. Sure there were those that had plenty of negative things to say, his father being the worse, but for the most part it was old news within two weeks. The most surprising thing was the outpouring of support. It was really humbling. There were so many people that were happy for them and wanted to see their relationship succeed.  He held that close to his heart for those days that were especially difficult, right next to his love for Izuku. 

In order to celebrate the candid_shoutos page getting 5,000 followers, they had polled their subscribers on what they would like to see more of. Videos was the top choice. So, they naturally asked what they would like their first video to be on. And naturally, they wanted him and Izuku to play a horror game together. Shouto had not felt one way or the other about it, and Izuku was always happy that their followers were happy. So, they began looking. 

They couldn’t do a long one because PlusInsta only allowed short videos. Finding short games was kind of difficult. However, Kaminari suggested a short one that he claimed was not too scary. It was all of a minute long and not too complicated to play. 

So here they were sitting and staring at a black screen with the words Death Trips printed in white block letters. Izuku was staring at the screen like it was going to bite him. They were capturing their gameplay using a game recorder, again thanks to Kaminari, so, Shouto was watching the camera which was showing Izuku’s pale face. He had never seen his boyfriend look so unsettled.

“You know… we can do something else.” Shouto suggested. 

“No, no… this is fine.” Izuku said. Though he made no move to start the game. Shouto sighed. 

“Clearly it is not fine,” Shouto argued. “You are pale, love, I can see the freckles by your collar.” Izuku finally turned to look at him. His eyes held a little fear, but Shouto also noted the hunched posture. It was not saying afraid so much as frustrated. 

“I just— it’s so stupid. It’s nothing, let’s just get this over with,”  Izuku said with a huff. Shouto flinched at his gruff manner. It was unusual. Izuku was normally happy to open up to him about anything. So, Shouto was really worried. What should he do? How can he help? 

“But, you’re upset?” Shouto tried again. Izuku’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“This so stupid! I’m supposed to be a hero and I am scared of a game. There is nothing that can actually hurt me and yet… I don’t want to do it,” he moaned. Tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes. Shouto blinked. He thought this was out of the blue, but then he remembered that Izuku usually skipped out on the class movie nights when people brought out horror movies. The one time he had been humiliated into staying, he cried through the whole thing. 

As Izuku continued to wallow in his self recrimination, Shouto was struggling to find a way to make him feel better. Izuku just always seemed to know what to do or say. Shouto was more likely to make an unintentional joke or make something awkward. He fell back on old habits and decided to be blunt. 

“So? You’re a human being, just like everyone else… and everybody is afraid of something.” he said as he wrapped an arm around his boyfriend, pulling him close. Izuku did not push him away, thankfully, instead hugging him back. 

“I mean, I know… it’s just so unjustified.” he sighed. Shouto looked back at the screen, thinking back to the movies he had seen with some of his other classmates. In all honesty, Shouto did not get the point of horror movies. A part of him felt disgusted that people paid to see people frightened, distressed, sometimes murdered ruthlessly, or frightened into insanity. Shouto did not find it entertaining, he hardly even remembered them once they were over. The SAW movies had been the final straw for him. It had been exaggerated, sure, but it had hit a nerve for Shouto. 

Jigsaw had claimed that he was trying to show people that they really wanted to live, by torturing them until they either had to murder someone else or endure horrific actions to leave. It sounded too close to Endeavor’s  reasoning about his “training”. All the pain, scars, phobias, and complexes Shouto had to contend with on a practically daily basis was seen as necessary at best and imagined at worse. Shouto shuddered at the thought. His back burned at the reminder of the lengths his father would go to. 

“Fear doesn’t have to be, it just is. Besides anyone can bullshit justification. We both know that,” Shouto darkly. Izuku’s glance went from frustrated to concerned. 

“Your dad’s not hurting you again, is he?” Izuku asked, becoming more alarmed by the second. 

“Not yet,” he huffed. There was no use in pretending. Both of the people in this room knew about Endeavor. His father had been blowing up his phone. Back to back phone calls when he was not in classes, most of which were left unreturned. This usually ended up with Shouto having to endure an hour long verbal lashing session when he finally was weary enough to answer the phone. The results of said session would last for weeks, resolving itself just in time for him to start up again. But Shouto would take the man’s vitriolic tongue over his flames and fists. 

“The bastard better not,” his boyfriend snarled. His face contorting into an angry grimace.

“Calm down, Izuku, he hasn’t been near Musutafu in months. I’m fine,” he insisted. Liar… his brain accused. Izuku gave him an exasperated look. Apparently, Izuku knew it, too. 

“Uh huh, but your PTSD is worlds away from my childish monster phobia…” Izuku lamented. Shouto felt himself relax at Izuku’s willingness to move to another topic. This was swiftly followed by frustration and guilt. Even now, Izuku was calming him down, when Shouto was the one that was supposed to helping Izuku!

“Didn’t you hear what I said? Fear is not rational. It just does its job. It’s not like you are freezing up during an attack. You are in the safety of your own room. You can be human here… heaven knows I won’t judge you. I lack Bakugou’s gall, you see.” Shouto joked weakly. Izuku spluttered and dissolved into a fit of laughter. Maybe Kaminari was not joking when he said Shouto was funny. 

“I guess… I just… All Might is counting on me to look after Japan in his place and I just don’t know if I’m doing this right…” Izuku sighed, dropping his face into the pillow. Shouto felt for his boyfriend. He understood that kind of pressure too well. That pressure had been sitting on Shouto’s shoulders since the manifestation of his Quirk.  While Shouto knew that All Might and Izuku had a relationship that was completely unlike the one between him and his sire, the whole protege thing did not sit well with him at all. 

Basically, their meeting was a simple accident. A man who had run into a wall and out of time and a child desperate for a chance. All MIght had basically offered Izuku his dream in exchange for the ability to live his own life. Shouto found himself wondering if Izuku really knew what he had done that day. Even if he didn’t, Shouto knew his boyfriend would not change his decision. Because Izuku was loyal like that. His relationship with Bakugou was telling enough. His father would easily call Izuku foolish for it. 

If Shouto were honest, he was only upset for one reason. At some point, whether either of them wanted to or not, Izuku was going to have to choose between Japan or him. There was just no feasible way to do both, at least in Shouto’s mind. It hurt to think about. What made it particularly rankling was that if Izuku had remained Quirkless… few of those people that Izuku would give him up for would have even cared what happened to him. Shouto himself never would have met him, either. He may not have even made it out of his first year. 

He had never mentioned to his boyfriend just how low he had been then. He had hit some pretty low points since his first year but he now had friends and Izuku to keep him steady. He had not fallen back to that point in a while. Back then Shouto had hurt from the inside out. He had stopped caring. Yes he sniped and snarled at his father, but they both knew it was impotent… his father had found it irritatingly amusing some of the time. After all, the man had ripped out any real teeth or claws Shouto had a long time ago.  

Shouto had been planning to overwhelm his opponents with his ice and take 1st place, then go home and hang himself with the medal. It was a last, desperate ‘fuck you’. Shouto was not stupid, deep down he knew he would never be able to replace All Might… not with ice alone. After all, most people despise winter and pray for spring or summer. Winter and all it brought was constantly used to personify all the things that humanity despised and feared. The sun, Shouto was not. He would have never replaced Japan’s Shining Sun, All Might.  

But then, he met his own personal sun in the form of Midoriya Izuku, a boy that would cry at the drop of a hat, his heart too big for his body. Though lately, it had been doing its best to catch up. Shouto loved and hated it. He loved the feeling of being wrapped in Izuku’s strong arms, sheltered from the world and his worries. He hated it for pretty much the same reason. He had grown soft since they had been together. Shouto had stopped seeking safety or kindness long ago. But since Izuku, he had changed, so much so that Shouto could no longer bare to sleep alone. 

Another heavy sigh drew Shouto’s attention back to Izuku. Right, he can wallow in his own issues later. 

“Look, I know I am no expert, but honestly… there was a reason I singled you out as being related to All Might,” he started. Izuku groaned.

“No! Shouto we have talked about this... “ he complained, a hint of an unwilling smile in his voice. A smile pulled at his own lips in response. 

“Let me finish. You constantly remind me of him… you are always smiling. You always leave a room better than when you found it. When you are present, I feel safer… like everything will be ok. You are so genuine in everything that you do, trust me… that is a rarity. And you care… so much…” Shouto said, letting all the words of praise out that he had often left behind his lips out of fear of being seen as insincere. Izuku lifted his head up from the pillow, eyes wide glistening with tears. 

“Shouto…” Izuku whispered, his name sounding like a prayer. 

“I am sure you are doing just fine.” Shouto said. “You saved Iida… you rescued Bakugou… you saved All Might at the USJ. You have saved countless lives including mine. If that does not qualify as making you a good future hero and symbol of peace… then… I fear for the rest of us,” Shouto said thickly, a lump growing in his throat. Izuku sat up and pulled Shouto into his arms, squeezing him. The warmth of his hug melted the lump in his throat, and it escaped him in the form of tears.  He didn’t even know why he was crying. A wave of misery had just rolled over him and he was helpless to stop it. 

For a long moment, the two clung to one another and cried. Once his sobs died down to sniffles, Shouto pulled away.

“Sorry, Izu, I don’t know what came over me,” he apologized roughly. Izuku wiped at his own eyes with his wrist. 

“I think we both needed that. The accidental reveal… the Sports Festival… training… you and your sperm donor and just stress up to our eyeballs. Something was going to have to give,” Izuku sighed. But he did look better, Shouto’s chest had certainly felt lighter. 

“Yeah,” Shouto conceded. They settled back into each other’s arms. After a while, Izuku let him go. 

“Thank you for helping me through that, Shouto. It still floors me that you think so much of me,” he said with a chuckle. A small but genuine smile on his face. 

“Same,” said Shouto feelingly. Izuku’s smile grew along with a blush on his face. 

“Let’s get this over with,” he said. Shouto noticed that his boyfriend was still apprehensive but he was no longer pale. Shouto nodded. Izuku gets into a better position and finally clicks

play

. A block of text shows up explaining that the player is a detective hunting a serial killer named Lady Death. The detective has tracked her down to a motel. 

The screen lights up to show a simple motel lobby. There were a few paintings to look at but nothing to really interact with, not even a person behind the reception desk. Izuku commented on how strange it was. He mentioned that horror games were usually about the atmosphere, at least according to Kaminari. Shouto snarked about trusting Kaminari as an expert on something. Izuku insisted that Bakugou agreed with him. After that, Shouto did not say anything else.

Izuku finally got tired of stalling and approached the elevator, hunching his shoulders. Shouto realized that he expected to be jump scared. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s midsection, offering reassurance. Izuku turned to him and smiled. Then he pressed the button to go up and waited. The elevator dinged. Izuku stepped on it and squeaked as the doors closed. Shouto squeezed him and Izuku’s unoccupied hand came to rest on Shouto’s. 

The doors finally opened to a dark and empty hallway. Izuku whimpered. Instead of moving forward, he sat back both hands squeezing Shouto’s now. Shouto sighed and freed on of his hands from under Izuku’s and continued the game. The moment the character steps out of the elevator the lights in the hallway come one by one, buzzing in a creepy manner. Shouto was more concerned about the fact that Izuku’s hand was squeezing tighter and tighter with each light. 

“Uh… Izu, I really mean no offense… but I need my hand,” Shouto finally said. Izuku immediately let go, eking out a weak apology. Thankfully, the final light takes a beat to turn on. When it does it is accompanied by a loud horn riff and the villain at the end of the hallway is illuminated. Izuku shrieked. 

“OhnoOhnoOhnoOhnoOhno..! Nonononononononononno!!!!” he cried in terror as the villain, an unfinished model, comes tearing down the hallway towards them. Shouto was pretty much clueless about what to do given the game gave few instructions. Izuku’s panic was starting to rile up his own.

“I don’t know… can we go back…?” he asked, voice trembling vaguely. The model was getting closer and closer. 

“I DON’T KNOW!” Izuku squealed, voice shrill with panic. Shouto was preparing to watch the character get slaughtered...

Then the villain tripped. 

“Wha…?”

“Huh?” Shouto blinked at the screen as the villain continued to lay still, a vase and the table it had been sitting on the floor next to them. He then turned and blinked at his equally bewildered boyfriend. Izuku blinked back. Shouto looked back at the screen in time to watch it transition to the credits. After the credits, there was a single phrase:

Yeah that was it.

Then it went back to the start screen. Then it hit Shouto. 

“Death trips!!!” Shouto howled before dissolving into uncontrollable laughter, snorting and squealing all the while. He hated his laugh no matter how many times Izuku said it was adorable. But there were two things that never failed to get a laugh out of him: puns and slapstick. They were often so unexpected that Shouto almost always laughed. Thus, he became conditioned to laughing at them which only made it worse. This game did both.

“S-shouto… I don’t… wait— pfft!” Izuku snorted before falling into a hysterical heap next to him. They laughed and laughed. Shouto clung to Izuku, moaning in pain but he couldn’t stop. Finally, their giggling faded into breathless wheezing. Once they got a hold of themselves, they turned back to the camera and thanked their followers before promising to do another non-horror related video soon.  They saved the video and Izuku promised to edit it soon and post it. They stretched out on Shouto’s futon and happily basked in the peace that had settled over them. 

They ended up falling asleep that way.        

________________________________________________________________

Would you like your work to be featured in the 365 Days of TodoDeku Project? Apply here! (≧∇≦)/

[ezzydean]

rubber cement and taped fingers

‘Fuck up bassist seeks drummer. Fuck up drummer preferred. If not fucked up, fucking up will be provided for you. -NTOE’

NTOE. No Trial Only Error.

NTOE may not be the next big thing but for Matsukawa Issei it's as good a chance as any to see where life takes him next. Now if only his life would stop trying to screw him over that would be great thanks.

aka that HanaMatsu band au no one asked for but I wrote anyway

on AO3

after the cut (it’s just short of 9k)

“Hey Issei?”

Issei takes a deep breath, eyelids fluttering in irritation, and glances over at his roommate sprawled on the floor.

“Yes Lev?”

“If I found you a new job would you stop being mad at me for accidentally getting you fired from your last job?”

He considers his roommate for a moment. Lev’s face looks sincere enough and, honestly, Issei is getting tired of Lev’s sad wet kitten found in a cardboard box stare.

“Possibly.”

Lev looks down at his phone. “Hey isn’t NTOE that band that always played at the club you and she-who-must-not-be-named-around-polite-company used to go to? The only band you actually liked at that place?”

“It is. Why?”

Lev rolls up onto his knees and shuffles over to Issei. “Get ready to not be mad at me anymore,” he says as he shoves his phone into Issei’s face.

He glances at the screen and sighs. He really isn’t sure he’s going to be finding any kind of decent jobs from a classified ads app that looks like a twelve year old made it. But he skims through the post anyway.

‘Fuck up bassist seeks drummer. Fuck up drummer preferred. If not fucked up, fucking up will be provided for you. -NTOE’

NTOE. No Trial Only Error.

There is no way it can actually be them. They aren’t a huge band, nothing super known and mainstream. But they are popular among the clubs and bars and rumor has it that there were talks of record deals on the horizon for them. So no way they are looking for a drummer. Not for real.

But — he mentally counts what’s left in his bank account and overlays that with the fact that none of his dozen applications for a more respectable job have called him back yet — it isn’t like there’s any harm in trying.

—

Issei glances up and down the street. It’s hard to believe that this is NTOE’s home base. Or studio or whatever. It’s only a few minutes away from his apartment. Hell he and Lev used to walk by this building every time they went to the club until she-who-must-not-be-named-around-polite-company ruined it for him. He looks down at the address on his phone and then back up at the door. This is the place and the door is unlocked when he tries it so he goes inside.

He doesn’t exactly have butterflies dancing in his guts or anything but there is anticipation buzzing in his chest. This is kind of a chance of a lifetime for him. The chance not just to be in a band but to be in one of his current favorite bands? If this really is No Trial Only Error then he’ll have to remember to get something awesome for Lev for finding this chance for him. And if it isn’t actually them then it isn’t like he’s really out anything other than a couple hours of time.

“Hello?” His voice echoes awkwardly through the empty room. Like it’s trying to fill up more space than it’s supposed to. “Anyone here?”

“Well hello there.”

He turns to the side and spots a man leaning against the far wall, brown hair stylishly falling over his forehead and a mischievous sparkle in his brown eyes that comforts Issei and makes him nervous in equal measures.

“Um.” Issei glances down at his phone again to double check the name. This is not the lead singer for NTOE. He looks nothing like the guy Issei had seen working the crowd at the club last year. “Iwaizumi?” he asks hesitantly anyway.

The man snorts in amusement. “Oh please. He wishes he looked like me.” He looks Issei up and down. “So you’re the guy.”

“Am I?”

Issei knows mischief. He knows it when it’s hiding behind corners and tucked into drawers and tiptoeing through dimly lit corridors. So of course he recognizes it when it’s staring him straight in the eye. Or, more accurately, when it’s eyeballing him like a starving man at a buffet.

“You look like you’d be the guy.”

“I do?”

“You do.”

“Well I’m glad we got that all sorted out.” He slips his phone in his back pocket. “I’m Matsukawa Issei. But I’m sure you know that already. Since I’m the guy.”

“Of course you are. And I do. And you are.” The man pushes away from the wall with the kind of grace that comes effortlessly. Issei knows the difference between effortless grace and practiced grace. Grace had been trained into him at a young age after all. “I’m Oikawa Tooru. NTOE’s producer and the role model they all aspire to be like.”

“Oh fuck if I ever aspire to be like you just take me into the alley and shoot me in the head.” Issei looks over his shoulder and into the deep, dark blue eyes of NTOE’s lead guitarist, Nanase Haruka, as he steps into the building.

“Haruka I’m so glad you pulled yourself away from your bathtub to join us.”

“Oikawa if you call me by my given name one more time I will drown you in your own toilet.”

“Love you too boo.”

Nanase sighs like the entire world is on his shoulders and looks at Issei. “Please tell me you’re the fuck up drummer we’ve been waiting for. If I have to go another practice listening to Oikawa talking instead of actually letting us play I will start stabbing myself in the ear with my own guitar picks.”

Issei is pretty sure he’s the fuck up drummer they’re waiting for. So he nods like he’s 100% sure and introduces himself once again. “I’m Matsukawa Issei.”

“So Mattsun,” Oikawa says cheerfully. “We’ve got the stuff set up in back. Why don’t you show us what you can do and we’ll go from there.”

Oikawa throws his arm around Issei’s shoulder and tugs him towards a door across the room. This is either the chance of a lifetime or he’s being led to a room where they’re going to murder and dismember him. He’s really, really, really hoping for the former. It’s this thought and the fact that Oikawa called him ‘Mattsun’ like they had been friends their whole live or something that distracts him enough to just let Oikawa drag him along. Nanase tsks but follows only a few steps behind them.

“You know that Iwaizumi won’t be happy you’re starting without him,” Nanase mutters.

“Of course I do.”

“But you’re going to do it anyway.”

“Of course I am.”

Oikawa shepherds Issei towards the drum kit and Haru shuffles off across the room from them. “I’ll say something moderately polite at your funeral,” Nanase says as he drops onto the couch.

“You’re so sweet.” Nanase nods at Oikawa’s words and fishes something out of his pocket. Issei can’t quite see what it is from where he’s settling behind the drums but it glints in the light as Nanase’s fingers twitch. “Now,” Oikawa says as he turns his attention on Issei. “Let’s see what you can do.”

—

Playing drums isn’t Issei’s life. It isn’t his end all be all. Music isn’t the air he breathes or anything like that. But he does love it. It does move him and he wants it to move others. He loves the beat, the feel of the sticks in his hand, the numbness vibrating up his arms from each hit at the end of a good session. He loves seeing people move to the beat he lays down.

So it’s not his life.

But opening his eyes and seeing Oikawa and Nanase nodding along, seeing Nanase’s fingers tapping against his knee like he can’t help himself, gives him a rush that nothing else in life has managed to give him yet. The deep hum of bass startles him out of his thoughts. He glances over and spots Hanamaki Takahiro, NTOE’s bassist, flashing him a peace sign before focusing back on his guitar, fingers gliding over the strings lovingly and skillfully.

“Glad to see you didn’t listen when I asked you to wait for us.” Iwaizumi Hajime, NTOE’s frontman, is leaning against the door frame scowling at Oikawa.

“Oh Iwa-chan if I listened to everything you said to me Makki would still be slogging his way through a business education he hates and Haru-chan-”

“There are two people who are allowed to call me that and you are neither of them,” Haru butts in.

“-well Haru-chan would be some famous sports star who is bored in life,” Oikawa continues like he doesn’t even hear Nanase. Issei is starting to feel like anything Oikawa doesn’t want to deal with is just white noise to him. “So you’re all welcome.”

“You’re also half the reason our last drummer quit,” Iwaizumi states.

Oikawa snorts rudely. “Well if he hadn’t been che-”

“I’m Hanamaki by the way.” The bassist sidles over to the drum kit, blocking out Oikawa and Iwaizumi from Issei’s view and distracting him from whatever conversation they’re having. “Hanamaki Takahiro. I’m the one who posted the ad.”

“Ah. The fuck up bassist that was seeking me.”

Hanamaki blushes a little. “That’s me. Fuck up extraordinaire.” Hanamaki drops his gaze to his guitar and taps his thumb against the neck nervously. Issei narrows his eyes; he’s just met him but he doesn’t really like seeing that look on Hanamaki’s face. Like he’s embarrassed. So Issei pokes Hanamaki in the chest with a drumstick and flicks the tip of his nose when he looks up.

“Oh I like that. We should get that printed on cards. Hanamaki and Matsukawa: Fuck Up Extraordinaires.”

Hanamaki grins and that’s it. Issei is a goner. He might as well have just signed his soul away to the devil. He grins back at Hanamaki.

“I don’t know,” Hanamaki muses. “Matsukawa and Hanamaki: Fuck Up Extraordinaires sounds pretty good too.”

“We’ll get both.”

“They’re bonding already,” Nanase says from the couch. “This is either going to turn out brilliantly or we’ll all need therapy.”

“You say that like we don’t all already need therapy,” Oikawa replies. “Well then.” He gestures towards a guitar leaning against the wall and gives Nanase a pointed look. “Let’s see what the four of you can do.”

—

“Issei?”

He looks up from the book in his lap at the sound of his name. His roommate is standing in the doorway shifting his weight from one foot to the other like a worried child. He’s even biting at his lower lip as he does it. It’s endearing. And a little irritating.

“Lev.”

“Um. Are you done being mad at me about the whole job thing?”

“I mean. You did get me fired from one of the best paying and most stable jobs I’ve ever had.” He glances down at his book and turns the page slowly. Just because he isn’t really all that mad at Lev anymore doesn’t mean he can’t be dramatic about it. He sighs deeply and watches Lev out of the corner of his eye. Then he groans. Had he known when he agreed to live with the guy that Lev could be the human embodiment of the sad face emoji he might have looked a little harder for a roommate. “Not like that’s saying much. None of my jobs have been the greatest, Lev. We’re good.”

Lev immediately brightens and rushes over to flop onto the couch next to Issei.

“So you got the spot? You’re the new drummer?”

“So far.”

The tryout, or whatever it had been, had gone smoothly. They didn’t practice anything super complex as a band or anything like that but he got the chance to show off his skills solo and then Nanase and Hanamaki had each taken a turn doing a little freestyle session with him while Iwaizumi and Oikawa listened and nodded approvingly. Then there had been that little stretch of heaven where he and Hanamaki had synced up perfectly without even trying and Nanase had slipped right into place a moment later and it had felt like they had been playing together since the beginning of time. It had been pretty fucking perfect actually.

“So like do you get to play with them somewhere? A gig at a club or something I can come watch you at?”

“There will be a lot of practices before any gigs I’m sure. I’m good, Lev, but I’m not a musical genius,” he adds when he spots Lev’s pout coming back. “When we get to the point where there will be a gig you’ll be the first person I tell. I promise.”

Lev makes some sort of happy noise and wiggles excitedly; he really is some weird kitten/puppy hybrid and Issei makes a mental note to tell Seijuurou he was right. Sei will be ecstatic. He loves being right. “I can’t wait to someday tell people that I know people in a band.”

It’s three hours later as Issei is getting ready for bed that he registers the fact that Lev had said ‘people’ in a band and not ‘a person’ in a band. Foreboding curls in his stomach.

This… this might be interesting.

—

“So. Matsukawa.”

“So. Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi snorts quietly and rolls his eyes. “So you think you wanna do this thing? Officially be one of us and all that?”

“You mean I’m not already? Oikawa talks to me like he’s known me since I was a child or something.”

“Well Oikawa kind of treats everyone like he’s known them since they were a child. Or like he’s a child.”

“Yeah and Hanamaki wants to stick his tongue down your throat,” Nanase butts in, like he always seems to do. “Doesn’t technically mean you’re one of us yet.”

“Damn Nanase. And here I thought you and I were BFFLs and all that. We bonded over… you know… stuff.”

“Okay focus.” Issei grins wolfishly at Iwaizumi and looks at him with dramatically wide eyes. All the better to hear him with and all that. “I need to know if you want in for sure. Because if you do then we need to introduce you to our managers.”

“Well I’m in if you’ll take me.”

The door to the building slams open on cue and gleeful laughter fills the room. “Good,” Iwaizumi says. “Because Hazuki and Matsuoka are here to meet you.”

“Have fun with that,” Nanase mutters. He pulls his headphones on and wanders over to the couch, skillfully evading the blond ball of energy that launches itself at him.

“Aw Haru-chan,” the blond whines as he tries to climb onto Nanase’s lap while Nanase pushes him away. “Why are you so mean?”

“Matsukawa,” Iwaizumi says, “meet Hazuki Nagisa. One of our managers.” The blond glances over his shoulder and grins at Issei. Then he immediately turns back to Nanase and starts talking to him excitedly, arms gesturing wildly, even though Nanase is ignoring him. Someone clears their throat beside him. “And this is Matsuoka Kou.”

“I’m the manager who actually gets stuff done.”

Issei turns to face Matsuoka and gives her a polite bow, along with his full attention. Good manners had been trained into him from a young age after all. “Nice to meet you,” he says as politely as possible. “It will be a pleasure to work with you.”

Matsuoka makes a pleasantly surprised noise and nods approvingly. “Punctual. Polite. I like this one.”

“A fuck up I may be but I’m a fuck up with good manners.” His mother had always told him that. Or something like that. Something about how even if you fuck up tremendously, as long as you’re a polite person they can’t completely ruin your character. And a person’s character was one of their most important possessions. Or something. His mother hadn’t always been the most coherent person at times. But she had made sure he had manners and knew used proper grammar and could catch a marshmallow in his mouth no matter how far up it had been thrown.

“So,” Hazuki pops up into his vision. “You’re serious about this? You wanna join the gloriousness that is NTOE?”

“Well. It’s not like I have anything else to be doing with my life right now. And I always did kind of want to be in a band.”

—

"Band Bonding," Hanamaki says with a smirk that totally does not make Issei weak in the knees. Except that it does.

"Not to be confused with Band Bondage. That's an entirely different level of friendship," Nanase delivers in the deadpan way Issei has come to thoroughly appreciate in the last couple months.

"You kidnapped me on my way to the grocery store for bonding time?"

"Were you low on toilet paper? Cause the last time Oikawa got kidnapped on the way to the grocery store he forgot to buy toilet paper when he was finally free and I wound up on the toilet very unhappy with him the next day." And there’s Iwaizumi's odd brand of humor. Which isn't really all that odd except Iwaizumi is like 26 and has that serious face that could belong to a 50 year old business man and he’s more likely to use potty humor than anyone else in the band.

“I feel like this has so much potential for disaster,” Issei mutters. To himself apparently because the other three ignore him and continue leading him down the block. Past the grocery store. Past the music store. Past everything until they reached a bus stop. “Okay but seriously if this thing is gonna make me more than an hour late I need to let my roommate know cause I’m supposed to meet him and his sister for food this afternoon.”

“Invite them with.” Everyone stops and stares at Nanase who looked confused. And a little bit betrayed like he hadn’t meant to say the words but his brain and mouth had done it anyway. “Why did I say that?”

“Aw Nanase. We truly are BFFLs.” Nanase looks ill at the statement and Issei laughs.

“I have enough BFFLs thanks.”

“I mean. I’d like to meet the roommate.” Hanamaki shrugs when they all glance at him. “Matsukawa talks about him a lot. So if he’s staying in the band we’re probably gonna see a lot of him anyway.”

They all look at Iwaizumi. Who groans. He doesn’t really seem to like being the leader but had told Issei on more than one occasion that letting anyone else be the group leader had wound up in horrible disasters that he usually got the worst of. So it’s kind of self-preservation for him to just take the lead.

“Invite him if you want. Cause yeah. We’re kidnapping you for the rest of the day.” Iwaizumi slaps him on the shoulder as the bus pulled up to the curb.

—

“I feel like this is your fault.” Issei looks up at Haru’s voice. Lev is in the corner gesturing excitedly at something he’s telling Oikawa.

“What is?”

“Him,” Haru grumbles. “Your roommate.”

“Hey you told me to invite him.”

“It wasn’t intentional and even if it was I didn’t realize at the time that he would be so…” His voice drops off as Lev laughs loudly.

“So much?” Issei supplies when Haru doesn’t seem interested in continuing his thought. “Yeah. Lev is something else. But he’s loyal - almost to a fault sometimes - and in my experience his kind of loyal is hard to come by.” He shrugs when he notices Haru’s unimpressed expression. “He’s good people. He’ll grow on you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Haru mutters.

Issei watches him shuffle off to the corner where his guitar is propped up. He’s not sure if he’s ever going to understand Haru. The guy is all sorts of contradictions. He claims he’s not all that into the whole music thing yet when he plays Issei swears he can see Haru’s eyes light up like the world is being handed to him on a platter. He says he’s not a people person yet he’s always drawing Issei into conversations. Haru glances over and frowns at him; he’s got the whole aloof artist thing down that’s for sure. But whatever. It’s not like Lev is being that big of a distraction to anyone but Oikawa at the moment and, honestly, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Oikawa can bring a practice to a violent stop that refuses to start again until his final tiniest whim is met. But he has an ear for the details and as irritating as he can be Issei’s pretty sure NTOE is lucky to have him.

He settles behind his drums and twirls his sticks a few times, staring back at Haru until Haru huffs at him and turns away. Issei looks down at his hands. It still hasn’t really hit him that he’s part of this all. That he’s part of NTOE. That NTOE isn’t some foreign entity that he only knows from a few club performances and whatever online presence he notices. It’s actually pretty awesome.

—

Haru lets out a disgusted noise and Issei feels something small bounce off his shoulder. It doesn’t deter him in the slightest. Makki huffs out a laugh against his lips and, honestly, Issei feels like he never wants to leave. Issei nips gently at Makki’s bottom lip.

“Just, ugh,” Haru groans. “Seriously we’re supposed to be rehearsing.”

Issei ignores him. Makki is a great kisser and nothing Haru does is going to stop them. Another small object hits his shoulder again followed immediately by one landing in his hair. Makki plucks it out and glances at it, laughing against Issei’s lips.

“A guitar pick? How fitting,” he says over Issei’s shoulder. Then he goes right back to kissing Issei again. Issei’s so lucky. First he got to join NTOE. Now he gets to make out with Makki pretty much whenever he wants.

The door from the main room to the rehearsal room opens and Issei vaguely hears Kou’s voice.

“Oh I’m glad to see you’re putting my bargain purchase to good use,” she says as Issei feels yet another guitar pick bounce off of him. “5000 picks for the price of 500!”

“The manufacturer was going out of business,” Iwaizumi says from his spot next to Haru. Issei’s pretty sure Iwaizumi is holding the bucket of picks for Haru. Honestly he’s waiting for Haru to just start flinging handfuls of picks at them all at once. Or just upending the bucket over their head.

“Exactly! Bargain!” Kou sweeps into the room fully, door slamming shut behind her. “I knew you’d find a use for them!”

“I found them in the back of your closet,” Iwaizumi replies.

“Oh so you found your way out of the closet then? Congratulations.”

“Kou.” Issei is sure that if he pulled himself away from Makki he would see Iwaizumi’s shit-eating grin in place. “I was never in the closet. You know this. I know this. People I’ve never even met know this.”

“Either way you found them!”

Issei still isn���t sure if Iwaizumi and Kou are flirting. He may never be sure if they are. He could walk in on them making out and still probably not be sure if they’re actually flirting. He mentally shrugs and goes back to kissing Makki. It’s a better use of his time than trying to figure out his new friends’ relationship statuses.

Oikawa finally comes back out of the bathroom. “Iwa-chan,” he whines, “I just found a guitar pick in my underwear.”

“Ugh,” Iwaizumi groans, “I never, under any circumstances, need to know what goes on in your underwear.”

“I second that,” Haru adds. A moment later Issei feels the collar of his shirt yanked away from his neck as dozens of guitar picks are dumped down his shirt.

It still doesn’t stop him from making out with Makki.

—

Issei watches Haru standing next to him. The guy is practically radiating tension. Stiff as a board somehow despite his slouch. Haru’s fingers run along his guitar idly as he glares across the room. “Somehow this is your fault,” he says to Hazuki.

Hazuki’s face is an adorable scrunch of confusion. That’s what gets you, Issei had found out the hard way. He looks so sweet and innocent and bubbly. It hides the devious whirling machinations of his devious little mind. Kou at least looks devious enough to start with when she eyes you like a top tier prize at a carnival. There’s no surprise, no sense of world warping betrayal when she reveals her master plan and how you so easily walked right into it.

“What are you talking about?” Hazuki asks. “And how is it my fault?”

Haru points across the room and Issei looks over to see Lev flopped on the couch. He’s actually being perfectly polite and quiet today. Which might have something to so with Issei promising to get him into their show for free next week so long as he behaves. With the way he acts normally Issei never would have expected that seeing Lev fairly calm and collected would set Haru on edge so badly. But if this is all it takes to freak Haru out then maybe Issei needs to get Lev to behave more often.

“I don’t know how it’s your fault. But it is. It’s a disaster and you need to fix it. For the sake of peace in the band.”

Hazuki glances at Issei in confusion but Issei just shrugs. Hazuki has known Haru longer than Issei has so he should know how Haru is by now.

“Okay. I don’t exactly know what you want me to do but I’ll do something I suppose.”

“Good. Fix it.”

There’s no way that’s gonna come back and bite Haru in the ass. But Issei kindly refrains from saying as much; Haru has already kicked him in the shin once today after all.

—

There never has and never will be anything quite like the rush of being on stage. The hum of the crowd, the sharp bite of the lights, the buzz of energy snapping between them all. Honestly Issei’s sometimes a little surprised not to see actual sparks arcing from Hajime’s lips to the microphone or from Haru and Takahiro’s fingers and their guitars. To not see the jolts of electricity with each snap of his sticks against his drums.

They play through two encores and seriously consider staying for a third. But Kou’s standing at the edge of their vision, hands on hips and expression promising pain if they don’t get their asses off the stage right now, so they make their final bows and slip off the stage. The quiet that rushes over them after the door to the stage shuts tries to damper their spirits, to yank away that thrill they just felt. But they cling to it, and each other, refusing to let go. Hajime’s got his arm thrown around Haru’s shoulder and his fingers twitch against Haru’s bared skin. Haru doesn’t look like he wants to yank Hajime’s arm off for touching him so Issei figures he must be riding his own high. Issei and Takahiro are following them down the hall with their arms wrapped around each other’s waist. It’s damn near perfect.

It’s everything he never realized he wanted in life right at that moment. His grin dims just a smidge, he can feel it, as the thought tumbles into his mind that he’s only missing one thing right now. Laughter fills the hallway and he stumbles a little. It’s got to just be his mind playing tricks on him and he shakes his head with a dumb smile when Takahiro glances at him in confusion. No way it’s anything else.

They round the corner at the end of the hallway towards their tiny, sad excuse for a dressing room and Issei freezes for a moment. Just a moment but it’s long enough for two of the people lounging against the wall near the dressing room door to turn and spot him.

“Issei!” Momo and Sei cry out in unison. Mere seconds later he’s being crushed in a Mikoshiba hug that he honestly never thought he’d feel again.

“You’re alive,” Momo is practically sobbing, rubbing his snotty nose on Issei’s shoulder.

“You vanish into thin air. You don’t write. You don’t call. And now you’re in a band? You deviant you.” Sei tangles his fingers in Issei’s sweaty hair and playfully tugs at it. “I’ve missed you kid.”

His face is red. From embarrassment, shock, exertion from the show or all of them at once, he’s not sure. But he falls into the dressing room with a grin splitting his face and Takahiro slipping back against his side as soon as Sei and Momo release him. The tiny room is far too warm as introductions are being made but there’s no place he’d rather be in this moment. Not even home alone with Takahiro pressing him against his bedroom door doing wonderfully wicked things with his mouth. That’s how perfect this moment is now.

—

“So,” Sei asks the next morning when Issei wanders into the living room still half asleep. Sei sits up and nods to the spot next to him on the couch. Issei could probably make it to the bathroom and lock it before Sei could catch him and make him talk. But that sounds like far too much effort this early in the day. Especially after the night he had.

“So,” Issei replies as he sits down. He eyes his best friend warily. Are they even still best friends? It’s been nearly three years since they’ve talked and at least another two since they’ve seen each other face to face. It’s been amazing to see Sei and Momo but are they going to turn around and tell his family where he is? Is he going to have to uproot himself right as he’s finally settling into a good thing? Is he going to have to give up Takahiro and Lev and everything he has here?

“For crying out loud stop thinking so much,” Sei finally gripes. He reaches out and flicks Issei in the forehead. “I’m not going to tattle on you. If I was I would have done it three months ago when Nagisa told me the name of the newest member of NTOE.” Issei exhales slowly. Of course Sei wasn’t going to rat him out. Sei growls at him. “I can’t believe you even thought that.”

“Well the last person who found out didn’t exactly take it well.”

“Yeah, well, Emi was conniving bitch,” Sei says so matter of factly that Issei snorts. “What about Lev?”

“What about Lev?”

“You’ve at least told him, right? He’s gotta be the closest thing you have to a best friend these days. I mean he can’t compare to me but, really, who can?”

Issei snorts again. Then he falls onto his side so his head is in Sei’s lap. “You are hard to beat,” he admits. “And no I haven’t told Lev,” he adds softly. “But I’m sure he’s figured some of it out. He was here for the end of Emi’s reign over my heart.”

“I’m, uh, not sure your heart is what she was controlling,” Lev says from the doorway. “She had a grip a little lower I think.” Issei can feel his face flushing in embarrassment. He’s not sure what exactly he’s embarrassed by though. “But I have to say as nasty as she was in the end I still liked her better than Fuyuko.” His voice drops to a shuddery whisper on the name and an answering shudder rolls through Issei’s body.

She-who-must-not-be-named-around-polite-company. Now that was a mistake Issei would happily spend the rest of his life forgetting. But he has Takahiro now. So whatever.

“Wait,” Issei says suddenly. “Nagisa told you about me months ago? How do you know him?”

“He’s a cousin,” Momo pipes in. A moment later he’s scrambling over the arm of the couch to flop onto Issei. Who allows it because it’s Momo and he’s always had a soft spot for Momo. He’s less happy when, a moment after that, Momo reaches up and drags Lev into the mix as well. This couch was not built to fit four muscly, long limbed adults in this way. But they make it work somehow.

“A cousin,” Issei eventually manages to grit out.

“Yep,” Sei answers. “On mother’s side. So I would have heard your name eventually, I’m sure. Even if I wasn’t the one with about eighty percent of the ownership of the band.”

—

Takahiro curls closer to him and kisses his cheek a few times just to make Issei laugh. Which he does. Because Takahiro is adorable and it tickles when he does that. They’re supposed to be rehearsing. And really Issei had every intention of rehearsing when he got here. But Takahiro is just so fucking attractive and Issei is still a little caught up in the fact he can kiss Takahiro any time he wants to that he just got a little carried away. And it’s not like any of the others have tried to stop them today.

Granted Lev and Momo are curled up on the couch making out enthusiastically so it’s not like they’re even paying attention to what Issei and Takahiro are doing. But Haru and Hajime are not making out with anyone so they should be yelling or throwing things or spraying Issei and Takahiro with water guns or something. It’s almost a little alarming and Issei tilts away from Takahiro so he can see what’s happening.

They’re just talking. Though Haru does seem to be a bit aggravated and he’s gesturing towards Momo and Lev a lot as he leans close to Hajime and hisses something at him. At least Issei assumes he’s hissing it. His eyes are doing the glaring squinty thing they do when he hisses at people. The irritated gestures and hissing continue but Issei turns his full attention back to Takahiro and Takahiro’s amazing lips. At least until the door swings open and Nagisa comes bounding into the room with Sei and Kou in tow. He only pulls away then because he can hear Kou’s voice and Kou showing up here means Serious Business is about to happen.

She still scares him a little. And he’s pretty sure she knows it and approves.

Haru, however, appears to have no fear of death because he stalks across the room, ignoring whatever Kou is trying to say, and herds Nagisa into the corner near Issei and Takahiro.

“What’s up, Haru-chan?” Nagisa asks sweetly.

“You’re not gonna ‘Haru-chan’ your way out of this one. You were supposed to make it better, Nagisa.”

Issei has no idea what Haru is talking about and a glance and Takahiro shows he doesn’t know either. Nagisa, however, seems to know exactly what is happening. Because he just tilts his head and grins.

“Oh Haru-chan.” His voice is frighteningly and deceptively sweet as he blinks innocently up at Haru. Issei feels a chill go down his spine; surely Nagisa was some sort of soul collector in a different life or universe. “Haru-chan, Momo comes with a brother.”

Issei’s eyes dart over to Sei, who is watching Nagisa and Haru with amusement dancing in his eyes, and then back. Oh shit. He never thought of that. Takahiro snorts against Issei’s cheek, clearly reaching the same conclusion.

“Yeah Haru-chan,” Oikawa’s voice startles Issei a little bit. He had actually forgotten that Oikawa was here. He’d been tucked away with his laptop open and headphones on listening to their latest recordings so intently that he had basically become part of the background. But now he leans against Haru’s back and eyes Sei like a piece of his precious melon bread. “Momo comes with a brother.”

Haru groans. “Fuck why is Oikawa here? Who brought him? Why does he have to breathe?”

—

Haru is on a rampage. Issei has no idea what is going on. Yesterday Haru was sprawled across the very same couch Issei is on today tossing music puns and innuendos back and forth with Issei like a baseball, relaxed as could be, and today he’s stomping around the room practically hissing at everything and everyone in sight. Seriously Issei is pretty sure he just saw Haru growl at the plant in the corner. Then again maybe the plant had it coming. Maybe it insulted Haru’s sister.

Huh. Does Haru even have a sister? Issei tilts his head as he watches Haru pace around the room. Nine months into being a full fledged member of NTOE and he honestly doesn’t know a lot of personal details about his bandmates. Even Takahiro. Which is kind of sad when he thinks about it because he spends a lot of time with Takahiro and not all of it making out. They really do spend a decent amount of time just laying around and talking about stuff. But nothing too personal and Issei has to wonder if that’s his fault. Takahiro had just rolled with the fact that Sei and Isse knew each other, that they had been best friends in childhood. But he’s never pressed for anything. Even though there is no way he doesn’t know that Sei is from a wealthy family. Since Sei practically owns the band and all that. So about the only way for them to have been childhood BFFs was for Issei to be from a wealthy family too. Unless he thinks Issei was a servant’s son or something.

Shit. He doesn’t even know if Takahiro has any siblings. He doesn’t think he does. But he can’t remember ever talking about it.

Shit fuck damn. Why does Haru have to be in a shit mood and make Issei think about things?

Haru kicks something and sullenly watches it roll across the floor in Issei’s direction.

“Did my drumstick do something to offend you?”

Haru’s glare is something fierce and for a moment Issei actually starts to go through what he knows he’s done and said around Haru the last week because holy shit maybe he did do something. Then Haru deflates with a sigh and collapses onto the floor next to the couch.

“You’ve, uh, known Mikoshiba awhile right?”

And now the questions about his past start. Issei mentally shakes out his thoughts and nods. He’s ready for whatever Haru asks. He’s already decided that he’s not going to keep anything from his bands, from his friends.

“Yeah since we were kids.”

“He seems really, uh, cheerful.” Haru sounds like he’s feeling out his words, picking them carefully. For a moment Issei is trying to figure out his angle, figure out what part of his past Haru is trying to dig into. The last time someone pried into his past using the Mikoshiba’s as a crowbar had ended… messily for all parties involved.

He glances down at Haru and his eyes widen. Haru is kind of scrunched into his hoodie with his face set in a scowl and his fingers drumming a nervous looking beat against his knees. The suspicion in his mind clears in an instant and he grins.

“You like him,” he whispers gleefully. Oh this is so much better than digging up his past. Haru flushes and Issei can’t help but stare. He doesn’t think he’s ever actually seen Haru flustered by anything. “You like him a lot.”

Haru opens his mouth to respond but the door opens and he snaps his mouth shut when he spots Hajime and Oikawa coming in. He hops to his feet and stomps across the room to snag Hajime’s elbow and nearly drag him right back out of the room. Oikawa and Issei stare at the door for a moment after they leave and then Oikawa shrugs and comes to sit on the arm of the couch near Issei’s head.

“So Matsukawa.”

“Oikawa.”

“You’ve known Mikoshiba for awhile.” His voice drifts off like it’s a question and it takes Issei a moment to recover at the deja vu washing over him. His recovery turns into him suddenly laughing so hard he rolls off the couch with tears in his eyes while Oikawa looks on in confusion.

“Oh this is so much better than I could ever have imagined,” he says by way of explanation when he finally stops giggling enough to catch his breath. “This is gonna be so hilarious to watch.”

—

He had been right. It had been hilarious. It was still kind of hilarious. But it had also been over two months since Sei and Momo had been introduced to the group. Over two months of watching Haru glare at Lev and Momo. Over two months of Tooru’s constant presence around the band. Over two months of listening to Haru and Tooru’s scathing banter. It’s kind of getting to the point where Issei just wants them to kiss each other or kill each other. Whichever gets them to chill out faster.

Hiro takes his hand as they leave his apartment for the short walk to the studio. Issei is blessed. He really really is.

“Question,” Hiro says, swinging their hands a little.

“Shoot.”

“What would you have done if I had been as in denial of liking you that Haru seems to be about Miksohiba?”

“Cried. A lot. It would have been gross.” Hiro laughs at him and fuck the things he’d do to be surrounded by that laugh forever. “No seriously. Ask Lev. He’s seen me. It’s disgusting. All snotty and blotchy. In one of my less proud moments I once used one of his socks to blow my nose. Thank heavens it was clean.” Hiro is shaking, nearly doubled over in his laughter, and he pulls away from Issei only to prop himself up against the wall of the studio.

Issei grins. He grins a lot around Hiro. It’s a good thing.

When Hiro calms enough to straighten Issei grabs his hand and drags him inside.

Where Haru is staring Lev down. Which is impressive given how much taller than Haru Lev is.

“You did this,” Haru insists. “You sent this to us. This is all your doing!”

“But,” Lev protests. “But I thought I was doing a good thing? I found the ad and now Issei has a job and have a drummer?”

“You ruined a perfectly good lead singer is what you did. Look at him. He’s got anxiety!” Haru jabs his finger towards the back of the room where Hajime is leaning against the wall nearly hyperventilating.

��What’s going on?” Lev looks so relieved to see them that Issei almost feels guilty for being late because he was too wrapped up in making out with Hiro to notice the time. Almost. Haru’s glare turns to him and Lev scurries over to hide behind him.

“You,” Haru hisses. The venom in his voice actually makes Issei take half a step back and bump into Lev. “It’s as much your fault as his.” Hiro squeezes Issei’s hand and then hurries over to Hajime’s side. Issei can make out his soothing voice but he doesn’t dare look away from Haru.

“What’s going on?” he asks again.

“This entire thing is a disaster and it’s all your fault.”

“What is a disaster? What are you talking about?”

“This.” Haru grabs a piece of paper off the nearby counter and shoves it against Issei’s chest.

It’s a letter of apology retracting their invitation to perform at their gig next week and at first Issei doesn’t get it. There have been other occasions where the club or venue have pulled their spot. Too many sets booked or not enough interest for that night. It happens. Then he reads a little further. His fingers go cold as the words nearly halfway down the page finally sink in.

…and it has come to our attention that one Matsukawa Issei is a part of your band and as such in the terms laid out with the Matsukawa family Matsukawa Issei is prohibited from performing in our club. You will also find a list enclosed of facilities that have similar agreements with the Matsukawa family.

Issei doesn’t have to look to know that it’s most of, if not all of, the clubs in a reasonable distance from their home base. He has to remind himself that clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth won’t do anything and he forces himself to relax. He wants to lash out, wants to tear the paper into shreds, wants to beat something up. Before he can do any of that he folds the paper up and sets it back on the counter and marches himself out of the building. Before the door even closes behind him he’s got his phone out and is calling Kou. Maybe if he throws himself at her feet and beg for mercy she’ll forgive him.

—

Kou’s entire stance radiates just how unimpressed she is with him right now.

“Please. Just. Even if I have to leave NTOE just tell me you can fix it somehow.”

“Even if you have to leave?”

“I would rather see them be able to perform with a different drummer than to be banned just because my family has suddenly decided to care about what I do. Please,” he repeats because, honestly, he can’t say it enough right now. “You’re basically my only hope.”

“Have you considered talking to your family?”

“I would rather you just kill me and bury me in a remote unmarked forest grave.”

Kou snorts. “I mean I’m sure that could be arranged if you really wanted me to.” She sighs, humor gone as she reads over the paper in her hands once again. “But I was thinking something more along the line of letting a friend of mine read through this. He’s got a great mind for stuff like this. If you don’t mind more people knowing about your connection to these particular Matsukawa’s.”

“If it can get this stupid ban lifted then I will tell them anything they think they need to know.”

Kou smiles at him. “Good. I’ll set up a meeting with Akashi. Don’t worry Issei. We’ll get this sorted out one way or another.”

It feels like it takes forever. This is why Issei hates his family. They don’t even care in the end. They just don’t like the idea that he’s out here living his life and they can’t control him. But in their eyes if he’s using the Matsukawa name in this part of the world he needs to be living like a Matsukawa and acting like a Matsukawa and all that entails.

It’s the Matuskawa name that’s important and once Issei brings him all the documents that he can get his hands on Akashi quickly finds just the loophole he needs to be out from their shadows once and for all: he needs to give up all claims to the Matsukawa name and be adopted into a new family. Akashi’s frankly terrifying and intense gaze drill into him the seriousness of the situation. But it’s a pretty easy decision in the end. It’s not like he’s really been part of the family for years.

The hardest part, other than not really being able to see Hiro or the rest of the band and his friends, is figuring out who he can get to adopt him into their family. At least until Lev and Sei and Momo shove their way into one of his meetings with Akashi and Lev drops a handful of papers into Issei’s lap.

“Seiko already filled out all the paperwork since she’s the eldest and basically the head of the family. Haiba Issei sounds a little weird but it’s yours if you want it.”

Akashi plucks the papers from Issei’s lap and skims through them.

“We wanted to adopt you,” Momo butts in before Issei can say anything at all, “but we figured our families are too close and there’s no doubt already a three story pile of paperwork and rules and legal bullshit to wade through between the Matsukawa’s and the Mikoshiba’s.”

“It seems that everything is in order here. I would just have to draw you up the papers to renounce your claim on the Matsukawa name and the ones to change your family name to Haiba.”

Issei looks around at his friends. He can barely believe that this is happening. He can barely believe that this is where his life is now. He can barely believe that he’s even hesitating in the slightest considering he hasn’t seen Hiro in two weeks and feels a little like he’s dying without NTOE bickering around him.

“That’s it? It’s that easy?”

“It’s only this easy because I owe Matsuoka a favor and I like her to begin with. If it were anyone else this solution would be much more painful I’m sure.” Issei isn’t entirely sure if Akashi is joking or not. He can’t really read the lawyer and his sense of humor. “But if you wish it I will start getting the papers in order. It could be all taken care of within nine days if you wish.”

—

It actually only takes five days. Issei’s not sure if Akashi is just that good to begin with or if his intense glare just made things move faster or what. But he’s not complaining. Not one bit. He looks down at his new ID with an odd sense of wonder dancing through his gut. He wasn’t Matsukawa Issei anymore. He was Haiba Issei. And yeah Lev was right. It sounds so weird. But he’ll get used to it.

Now he just has to go and apologize to everyone for causing such a disastrous pothole in their road and hope they forgive him.

It’s the only time since he discovered where the home base was that he actually regrets that he lives so close. It takes him mere minutes to get there and before he’s ready he’s looking up at the nondescript door and taking deep breaths. He finally pushes open the door when someone walks past him and looks at him suspiciously for the third time in as many minutes.

The first thing he notices is that it smells like home and his shoulders immediately start to sink into their normal slouch.

The next thing he notices is Hajime, Tooru, and Haru standing near the door to the back room.

The thing that really makes it sink in that he’s back is Hajime’s voice filling the room while Tooru snickers at something.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were one comment away from fucking each other’s brains out.”

Haru lets out a disgusted noise. “Ew. Fuck you, Hajime. I have standards.”

Hajime snorts. “I didn’t realize your preference for muscled jocks was a standard, Haru.”

“I didn’t think you had standards Haru-chan. I figured you just rolled over for whoever waggled their fingers at you.”

“If I did you still wouldn’t get me to do jack shit.”

Hajime rubs his forehead, no doubt already regretting that he even started this conversation at all. Issei just stands near the door and takes it all in. Fuck he’s missed these idiots.

“Tooru,” Hajime says, almost whines actually and that makes Issei snort. Thankfully they don’t hear him under the sound of the door to the back room opening and Nagisa and Kou coming out of it. “Why can’t you two just have sex so I don’t have to suffer through your weird little mating ritual any longer?”

“Ew. Iwa-chan. That’s just wrong. It would be like me having sex with you. That’s just wrong.”

“Who’s having sex with Hajime?” Nagisa pipes up, eyed glancing over Hajime’s body and nearly devouring him. Well then. That’s something Issei never noticed before.

“No one. That’s the tragedy,” Tooru says breezily. “You want to turn this tragedy into a story of hope?”

“Oikawa,” Hajime bites out as he jabs a finger at Tooru’s chest. “Do not encourage him. Hazuki,” he snaps before Nagisa can even open his mouth, “do not encourage him. Just. Both of you stop talking to each other.”

“But then how do we do our jobs Iwa-chan?” Tooru coos at Hajime.

“And how do we get you laid?” Nagisa asks innocently.

Hajime looks like he’s ready to bust a blood vessel and Issei is about to step forward to at least draw their attention when Hiro is suddenly blocking his way.

“Hey there,” Hiro says softly.

“Hey yourself.”

“Can I help you with something?” For a moment Issei almost panics. Has he really fucked this all up? Is it too late?

He almost turns tail and bolts out before the others take notice of him. But then he sees the glimmer of mischief in Hiro’s eyes.

“I’m here to respond to an ad I saw a while back,” he says instead of any of the other stuff crowding around in his head.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Haiba Issei. Fuck up drummer. Hope the spot’s still available.”

“Are you a fuck up? Or a Fuck Up Extraordinaire? We only take the best here.” Hiro leans a little closer and Issei reaches out to snag the pocket of his hoodie and tug him close.

“Oh I am one of the best fuck ups you’ll ever meet.” Hiro leans in and kisses him and forget what he thought a moment ago: this is home.

“One of the best kissers too,” Hiro mutters against his lips.  “Welcome to the band Haiba Issei.”

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of August 21st, 2019

Best of this Week: Superman: Year One - Book Two - Frank Miller, John Romita Jr., Danny Miki, Alex Sinclair and John Workman

Superman has always stood for Truth, Justice and the American Way. 

This has never been more true (arguably) than right here in Superman: Year One, where Clark Kent becomes a US Navy Sailor. I briefly touched upon it at the end of the last issue, but this one really resonated with me in a way that no comic has in a little while. Other books have made me feel feelings of fear, disgust and elation beyond compare, but this one makes me feel the bittersweet memories of my own experience.

I remembered my first haircut, carrying my seabag across the base, marching and all of the PT (physical training) that I had to endure for those grueling two months. Clark isn’t fazed by any of it. It takes a few clippers to cut his dense hair. He breezes through the PT, noting how hard it is for everyone else to do and when he has to qualify for using a pistol, he hits the mark dead center every single shot. There were a few superstars like Clark when I was in boot camp and seeing that written and excellently drawn by John Romita Jr., made me feel something of a kinship to one of my favorite heroes.

You can see the struggle in his shipmates faces as they sweat and heave with Clark monologuing in his mind that he can hear their lungs about to burst or their legs about to give out. That shit was me. Every single PT test leaving me winded, marching at a double time… I hated every second of it. But through all of it, I felt proud. I wanted to get through, to push myself harder than I ever could. 

Clark doesn’t feel that. How could he? He’s an alien from another planet with abilities beyond compare and he could do anything he set his mind to. But what does he choose to instead? He answers the call of duty, he chooses to serve his country and his fellow man. It’s ridiculous, but at the same time absolutely commendable and inspiring. If I were to level criticism at the first two acts of this book, however, it would definitely be the lack of real feeling of camaraderie that Sailors feel together in Boot Camp. Never once do we see Clark interact with his shipmates in any meaningful way, aside from his Captain later on. The feeling of pride is there, but the friendships and relationships that come with it does leave a little bit of the story feeling hollow in favor of a less than great, but still good subplot later.

Another problem I have is… I don’t know how accurate print media and comics are allowed to be with military rank and titles, but Kurtzberg is supposed to be a Captain, but wears the insignia of a Petty Officer Second Class and Chief Petty Officer at two separate points. It’s a mildly irritating and nitpicky thing, but what can you do?

Of course, Clark's path diverges greatly from my own. A little bit before the pistol qualification section, he gains the attention of a Captain Kurtzberg and after his perfect scores, he's allowed to try out his skills further with an assault rifle, which he also excels at. Kurtzberg recommends him for more advanced training and soon after, he trains to become a Navy SEAL. I don’t have a singular clue as to what the SEAL lifestyle is like, but training he’s made to endure is even worse, though you wouldn’t know it from how he reacts to it all.

It’s here at SEAL training that the first seeds of the subplot, later becoming the hook of Act Three are sewn. Clark begins to hear the calling of the sea. It’s something that some deployed Sailors still feel to this day, the Siren Song or Mermaid Call that drives most men mad with how beautiful their voices are. Kurtzberg calls Clark out during one evening of PT and makes him to push ups on the shore of the beach after Clark tells him that the Captain should see how pretty “they” are. Unable to sleep during the night, Clark sneaks out of his barracks to watch the beings on the coast when Kurtzber appears next to him, warning him to not tell anyone about what they’ve seen as Kurzberg too knows of their beauty and the world of wonders that they live in. 

If you’ve been reading Superman stories for a long period of time, things may start to click as what or who may be calling Clark. After our hero accidentally starts a bar fight while trying to defend the honor of a woman, he’s punished by having to use his toothbrush to clean the head (bathroom) and garbage cans. After finishing his chores way into the night, he makes a dummy in his rack (bed) and sets off to explore the sea, taking to the water like a fish since he doesn’t actually need oxygen. 

He follows the sounds of the voices calling and finally see them, Mermaids, laughing at this strange human. One in particular catches his eye, Lori Lemaris, one of Superman’s original love interests from the late 1950s. He follows her as she laughs, until her voice turns to tears, seeing a submarine having crashed into their city. In one of his first of many acts of heroism, Clark lifts the sub off of the city, saves the people and helps them rebuild just before Morning Colors. Lori begs him to stay, to become her husband and King, but he tells her that the people up there need him, but that he will be back. As always, Clark is torn between two worlds, but his first thought is always to honor his commitments because he’s such a good guy.

Romita Jrs art shines best in these few pages for me. Lori is absolutely beautiful, playful and the visuals of the underside of the ocean are stunning. Everything’s a beautiful hue of blue except for the vegetation and Lori, who’s colored with yellow and purple clothing. Clark looks amazingly strong and happily curious as he saves the people of Atlantis. Romita Jrs. lines are amazingly crisp and he makes great use of only a few hatch lines to shade things. Everything is thoroughly enjoyable to look at, even the way that everything flows under the water is awesome.

Clark manages to return back to the barracks just in time as Kurtzberg watches on, knowing where Clark’s been and thinking to himself that the young SEAL better keep those memories clean and pure because he’s witnessed something amazing. He swam with the angels. There’s a three page long training montage where Clark shows just how efficient he can be in combat, embarrassing one of his shipmates so hard that he’s pulled aside and given his first assignment.

Things take a dark turn as Clark and his team are made to infiltrate a ship that’s been hijacked by pirates. During the training, as Clark thought to himself just how easy it would be to kill, he started to get a pit in his stomach. Things weren’t sitting right, especially as Kurtzberg egged him on by saying, “That there is how to kill a man good!” This stuck with Clark as he did his bet to avoid killing any of the hijackers. He saw how monstrously they murdered the crew of the ship and he felt himself getting more angry, but he still couldn’t bring himself to take a life. 

Things reach a head as the team reaches the control deck and Clark still refuses to kill any of the enemies. Kurtzberg lambasts Clark and orders to give him some corpses, until one of the hijackers pulls out a grenade. Everyone starts to panic as the mission goes FUBAR, but Clark utilizes his strength to stop the grenade, subtly, making it seem like it was a dud. 

While he ended up saving the lives of his fellowsailors, his reckless actions reward him with an honorable discharge. Kurtzberg advocates for him, but ultimately Clark has to pack his sea bag and say goodbye to his friends. Before he departs, he has something of a heart to heart with Kurtzberg. The Captain tells him to hone his skills, that he could do amazing things with his gifts and Clark salutes him, walking into the ocean to find his destiny.

The way this scene is framed, with the lighting indicating an early morning, makes everything seem like the future is absolutely bright for Clark. Having Kurtzberg abandon his badass attitude of authority and strength to give Clark advice while shaking his hand like a man is an amazing and heartfelt sight. For the first time, Clark doesn't have to try to lower his strength, it just comes naturally.

All of this is bittersweet. Clark Kent wanted something different than his life in Smallville. He knew that he would have to hide his abilities if he stayed, he knew that he could do so much more for the world. He chose to serve his country, one of the best things a Patriot can do, but his heart was too good for it. His skill and power raised him to a position that did not align with his own moral code. Clark would never kill, but no good deed goes unpunished.

The third and final act of this book comes with Clark returning to Atlantis, seeking out his new love, Lori. She reacts happily once she sees him again, calling him the love of her life and saying that he should meet her family. Then they… frolic in their special hiding place until the next day. She tells him to wear his best as he is to finally meet her father, Lord Poseidon. He emerges from the shadows in his iconic red and blue with fish swimming all around him and the flora lighting up in his presence. 

Poseidon isn't amused, seeing Clark as a little standing frog and proceeds to put Clark through impossible tasks to win his daughters hand. Clark begins to find the true scope of his powers as he concentrates and releases his heat vision on one of the enemies. It's a stellar display of power and control as Clark monologues that this fire inside of him was his and his alone. Alex Sinclair did an amazing job of portraying the ability and powerful it is with intense and vibrant reds.

Poseidon pulls out every stop that he can to try and crush Superman. He sends his best warriors, but Clark doesn't even acknowledge them trying to crush him. Stone automatons fall to his might. A giant squid swallows him whole and vomits him back up, unfettered by the stomach acid. Becoming increasingly enraged, Poseidon summons the Kraken and uses the fabled beast to try and crush Superman to death. 

As the tentacle lifts and Lori cries, thinking her one true love has died, Clark stands right back up with a smile. Lori jumps for joy, the people are stunned and in a silent rage, Poseidon calls off the Kraken and plots revenge on the frog that he couldn't crush.

Throughout this entire act, Poseidon monologues to himself about the bug that wouldn't be crushed or burned or destroyed in any way. Clark just smiled, snickered and mocked Poseidon the entire time. There was no malice in his smirk, just the boyish exuberance of love and youth. Poseidon though Clark wanted his crown, but really he just wanted Lori, a place to finally be himself and a peace of mind that he's never truly had.

Superman: Year One has been amazing thus far. While it's only a few peoples take on what would happen if Superman joined the military, I feel like it's a great and accurate one in line with who Superman would be as a man. Given the lessons that he'd learned from Pa Kent, how could we expect him to be ready to kill at any moment? Instead, we see his compassion for humanity shine through as he's even willing to preserve the lives of absolute monsters. 

John Romita Jr. captures the apathy of an effortless Clark in his early career, the wonder when hears the beautiful call of love from the sea and the conflict of a man caught between duty and morality. To say that this is some of his best art in years would be an understatement when it concerns this entire story. While the last issue focused heavily on the vast normality of the midwestern United States, this issue feels more tight and focused on the inner turmoil of Superman. The locales feel more linear, allowing us to explore more of Clark's own inner thought processes. He is surrounded by other strong men, but he is in a league of his own until he meets Lori.

Superman: Year One is a great journey of self-discovery. Other Superman stories have tried similar themes with varying degrees of success. Superman: Earth One went in the hard direction of Superman being an apathetic douche that knows he's a God and lowers himself to the level of men until someone bigger makes him want to protect the citizens of Earth. Superman: American Alien grounded Superman near as much as this book does, but what makes them different is the journey Clark takes to find himself.

This book warmed my heart something fierce with it's incredible storytelling and art. With issue two being this good, I can only hope that the next one will be nearly as amazing. Given that the preview of the next one shows Superman holding up the Daily Planet globe, we are absolutely going to be in for a treat. 

Highest of recommends.

[sp4c3-0ddity]

Maybe 58 and 86?

at first i wasn’t going to do this one because i’ve already gotten these prompts independently but...well, i had an idea based on my tags on this post, although it’s still kinda...light on the prompts. hope you like ~1500 words of fake dating??

warning for mildly suggestive dialogue

(58) Accidental Eavesdropping

(86) I Didn’t Mean To Turn You On

Pidgecursed the day she declined a job at a tech company in Silicon Valley just to stayclose to her family,because the unintended side effect of staying close to her family was that shestayed close to…Lance.

Lance, her college classmate and unlikelyfriend - the only fine arts major whose name she learned - who somehow managedto hit a big break in his acting career less than a year after graduation.

Lance, who so desperately needed to bring aconvincing plus-one to his ex-girlfriend’s wedding that he asked her to “date” himfor the two months preceding the event.

Lance, who stormed through her workplaceignoring an alarmed shout from the receptionist until he halted beside her deskwaving a magazine.

He dropped it on her computer keyboard andcrossed his arms, glaring. “I never expected such betrayal from you!”

Pidge stared unseeingly at the magazine,her jaw set in irritation. “Lance, you can’t just come into myworkplace and—”

“Pidge,how could you?” His finger prodded the magazine, drawingher attention to its cover.

Morbid curiosity and the desire to get himto stop touching her stuff forced herto pick up the magazine - the tabloidmagazine. Bright colors and bold fonts stared up at her over celebritythumbnail photos, a cover model with too much cleavage showing flashing whiteteeth in the center.

But what really caught her eye…was a slightly blurry photo in the corner- a photo of herself tucked under Lance’s arm, laughing while he smiled fondlyat her.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight, but only because she recognized it.

The same one stared her in the face frombetween framed pictures of her family at a rocket launch and of her cuddlingher dog, helping her get through monotonous day after monotonous day.

“Thispicture’s on my desk,” she said hollowly. “I-it’s old - from college and before your stupid idea! - so how the hell didthey get it?”Her heart pounded, with anger and not a small amount of anxiety.

Lance’s bribe no longer looked worthwhile.

“Wait,it is?” he said, his eyes widening and taking in her desk, but before she couldreact beyond the heat rushing to her cheeks, he scowled. “The picture isn’t thepoint! It’s the article!”

“The—”Her mouth dried as she finally read the words cluttered around the picture.

New Mystery Girlfriend Demystified! OurLance, Bad In Bed?

Pidge’s jaw dropped. “Oh.”

Lance snatched the magazine back. “That’sall you can say?” he demanded, flipping through its pages.

Pidge inhaled, collecting her thoughts andpostponing her own defense as she stood and grabbed Lance’swrist to drag him away from the prying eyes of her middle-aged male coworkers.

She wondered how likely it was that any ofthem would recognize him (maybe if they had teenage daughters that viewed Lanceas some kind of heartthrob? Ha, in her day it was Orlando Bloom in a long, blondwig…),but who else could’ve shared a picture off her deskthat predated her staged romance with Lance?

Besides, fake or not, it was a privatematter and she did not need anyone toeavesdrop on this argument.

She shut and locked the door to the breakroom before turning to Lance, her palms sweatier than usual and her face hot. “So—”

“Youtold a tabloid that I’m ‘terrible and selfish’ in bed!”

Pidge raised her hands defensively,fumbling for a lie, and retorted, “Y-you are! You’re a blanket hog!”

“Youthrow them off so why does it matter if I hog them?” Lance fired back. “And Iknow you know that’s not what they meant by asking what I’m like inbed!”

Pidge scowled. “Fine!”she said, stepping towards him with her blood rushing in retaliatory anger. “Youput me into a tight spot with this datingthing, and tabloid journalists found me on LinkedInand started messaging me.”

“Wait,why didn’t you tell—”

“Sowhen one approached me in person and asked what you’re like in bed, I panickedand said the first two unflattering adjectives that popped into my head!”

“Whyunflattering?”

“Outof spite, probably!” Pidge threw her hands up, aggravated and with a too-warmface, because the last thing she needed to think about right now was her andLance in that…situation…together. She crossed her arms, forcing her mind backto the matter at hand, and grumbled, “I’m sorry, Lance. I’ll prepare a more flattering lie for next time.”

Lance deflated, most of his anger seemingspent as he frowned at the ugly tile floor between their feet. “Thedamage is already done,” he pointed out. “Now after we split, no one’s going towant to date me.”

Pidge snorted. “Whywould you want to date someone that only cares what you’re like in…bed? And nowthat you know”—a smirk pushed at her lips despite her discomfort with thetopic—”there’s always room for improvement.”

He rolled his eyes and said, “Pidge,I’ll have you know I’m a greatlover that would happily see to your needs!”

Pidge only just stopped herself fromdemanding, Prove it!

Instead she stuttered, “M-my needs?”

Lance’s eyes widened. “What?” He held his handsup, waving them frantically. “N-not yours! A hypothetical future girlfriend’sneeds!”

Oh, her heavy, disappointed, traitorousheart.

Pidge bit her lip, her gaze drifting down. “Isee…”

Her heart skipped a beat when Lance steppedcloser, and she dared to glance up and meet his blue eyes and take in his darkcheeks.

He murmured, “I-I mean, unless you need me to set therecord—”

A sharp knock sounded from the door.

Pidge stumbled backwards, her breathescaping her in a gasp. Lance jumped away from her, yelping when his headcollided with a low cabinet.

Her heart still raced when she unlocked andopened the door to a coworker, who held up an empty mug with a baby’sface printed on it.

“Youdone? I need to make some coffee.”

“Yeah,I’ll just…walk my boyfriend out,” she mumbled.

Pidge grabbed Lance’shand and towed him out of the break room and through rows of cubicles and outpast reception. She apologized for her “boyfriend’s” behavior on her way out,and they made it outside before she dropped his hand and wiped her sweaty palmon her pants.

“Uh,I forgot the magazine—”

“I’llget rid of it,” Pidge promised. She looked up at Lance, mustering a smile fromsomewhere inside, and said, “I really am sorry. I didn’t really think aboutyour”—a grimace twisted her face—”reputation when I answered those questions.”

“It’sokay,” Lance said. “I’ve heard worse - I’ll probably hear worse before the world forgets about me -so…”He sighed and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “I should at least…makesure nothing like this happens to you again.”

Pidge shrugged. “Guessit was only a matter of time before they found out who I am.” She flashed him agrin, warmth filling her chest when he returned it. “Besides, how are you goingto rub it in your ex’s face if she doesn’t know about me? And I know you love attention, so it’llbe that much more fun when we break up.”

Her smile faltered just a bit at thethought, chest tightening.

Why? After the wedding she’dhave all the parts and tech she needed for her side projects and the money tofund them…and she wouldn’t have to pretend to date Lance ever again. They couldgo back to being friends that rarely saw each other and steadily drifted apartwhile they pursued their own lives.

“You’rethe best, Pidge.” Lance leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek, agesture that grew more familiar as their ruse continued - though it neverfailed to surprise her. “I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.”She rested her hand on his arm, the subtle curve of his bicep obviousunderneath two layers of clothes. “Don’t be late again.”

“Please,Pidge,” he said, rolling his eyes, “I’m never late to game night.”

She scoffed and said, “Whydo I have a feeling you’re late to something right now?”

Lance pulled away from Pidge and checkedhis fancy watch. His eyes shot open as he said, “Holy crow, you’re right! Got a meeting…”

“AndI have to get back to—”

He cupped her face and kissed her forehead,cutting her thought processes off.

Unlike holding hands and the kisses on thecheek in public, this was…unfamiliar.

But not disliked, Pidge decided as a smilepushed at her lips. She raised a hand and waved when he finally left, a smirkon his face as he retreated to the parking lot.

Only as she watched him pull his hood upover his head and don a pair of gaudy blue sunglasses did it hit her:

Did Lance try to proposition me?

[hotvillaindaddies]

Andrews Can Suck It || Sweet Vee

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Veronica Lodge

Rating: There’s sex so, be an adult.

“I broke up with my boyfriend tonight,” she sighed, glancing up at him as he stuffed a few french fries covered in ketchup in to his mouth. 

Sweet Pea’s eyes jumped from his plate to Veronica’s face, widened to convey his surprise, his mouth full of food. They’d been sitting here for two hours, pretending like they were friends over piles of fries and milkshakes. He’d come here because he was craving a late night meal after his evening of drinking, and she’d ended up here because she wanted to be anywhere else but home. Neither of them had had a good night at the Wyrm. He first slid in to the seat across from her to annoy her, already enjoying the sass she gave off every other time he’d been around her. Eventually, they’d just started talking about shit like old friends, which was nice. They’d proved each other wrong, she wasn’t that stuck up, and he wasn’t that much of an asshole. Pea figured he’d end up liking her eventually. It was nice to see she felt the same.

Veronica shrugged a shoulder and stole another fry, sitting back against the booth seat. “I don’t love him, and I think not letting him go would only hurt him further. We’re better friends, even if we were good lovers.” She doesn’t know why she phrased it that way, but she still means it. Archie was an amazing friend, and every time they touched, it was magic. It just… wasn’t the magic she craved. Hopefully Archie would come around to think that as well, because she prayed their friendship would still exist after this. After all, there were plenty of other girls at Riverdale High that would be perfectly suited for the boy. It just wouldn’t be Veronica Lodge.

She chuckled when Sweet Pea had to knock at his chest with his fist a few times, his mouth full of french fries delivering instant karma from his rash decision to stuff his face. “You did the right thing. Can’t force yourself to love someone, just gotta feel it.” He shrugged his shoulder. “But what do I know? I haven’t been in love with anything other than this burger.” He punctuated that thought with a bite of his burger, making her laugh again. “If you’re not careful, you’ll choke. I know snakes usually just swallow their food whole, but remember, you’re a mere human man.” Veronica smirked and took a sip of her milkshake, wondering if she should order a burger as well. She’d gotten the basket of fries for the two of them to share, but the tall boy across from her swore he needed his protein as well.

Sweet Pea shrugged at her line, seemingly stolen from FP Jones, and stuffed more fries in to his mouth, not really sure what else to say to her. Just from their interactions alone, Pea was sure that Archie Andrews just couldn’t handle this spitfire. She was stubborn and strong, guarded but soft. He’d seen her fire and determination in school, and even though some of her attempts at being nice had been trash, she’d grown on him. He hadn’t forgotten she was a Lodge, her daddy snatching up his favorite places on the southside like wildfire, but she was also just a girl that lived in her father’s shadow, kind of like he did. She’d accidentally told him that she liked romance novels more than anything, and he hadn’t read any, but he was sure he could be the guy on the front of one of those books way more than Andrews could. Not that he was gonna tell her that. Instead he told her she’d needed to get laid more if she found that shit romantic.

Her eyebrow quirked at his silence, but he shrugged and kept eating, unsure of why he would even think he could be a leading man for her. She was Veronica Lodge, Northside Queen, Riverdale Vixen, Perfect Princess. Except, maybe she wasn’t. He was still figuring that out as they sat here. Either way, he was just a shithead from the Southside trailer park. He just didn’t amount to enough. His scarred knuckles and neck tattoo instantly disqualified him from the running.

Veronica snatched a few more fries, dipping them in his ketchup before shaking her head as she ate. “How come you’re not still at the Wyrm? I thought for sure you’d be partying til dawn with FP?” Sweet Pea shook his head, glancing around Pop’s before meeting her eyes again. “Nah. Got into it with Hog Eye over a game of pool. Figured I’d dip before FP tried to ground me or somethin.” He was still a little confused on why FP was suddenly playing daddy to any snake under the age of eighteen, especially when Hog Eye was Pea’s uncle. Hog Eye still owed him twenty bucks from last weekend, on top of the few grams of weed, and when he didn’t pay up for their newest bet, Sweet Pea swung on him. He’d mostly booked it out of the Wyrm and over to Pop’s because he was pissed and hungry. Nothing like a little family drama to light a fire under your ass. Again, something he didn’t plan on telling Veronica, she’d probably chastise him for not making Hog Eye put the money on the table first, and he definitely wasn’t going to tell her his uncle owed him some pot. Last time he’d let his no good uncle pull one over on him.

She smiled knowingly, understanding his hesitation to give her any more information on what went on in the Wyrm that she didn’t witness herself. The Serpents were protective of their own, and Sweet Pea had shown how loyal he was to them over and over. She knew he wasn’t going to tell a Northsider, much less Hiram Lodge’s daughter. They all knew what her father was up to, and for a moment, she realized just how lucky she was that Pea was even at her table talking to her at all. She would’ve thought he was much too proud for that. The way his jaw clenched made her thighs clench, the way he wore anger was more beautiful on him than anyone she’d ever seen, and as much as she hated to anger the boy, she filed it away to use for to her advantage.

By the time she’d snapped out of her thoughts, he’d had at least another handful of fries, and his burger was nearly gone. She was slightly surprised at how quickly he seemed to eat, but then again, he was over a foot taller than her and needed triple the food probably. “Let me guess. Too shady of an evening to share? Did you misbehave, Sweet Pea?” she asked, raising an eyebrow slowly. She was enjoying the easy banter between the two of them, easily pushing it to flirting. Sure, she’d just broken up with her boyfriend, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t flirt with the attractive bad boy across from her. If only she could be so open about who she was.

He nearly choked on the last bite of his burger. Usually, he was much more focused around women. He and Fangs had perfected their pick up game so they’d never go to bed alone if they didn’t want to, but for some reason, that one look from Veronica had more game than he’d ever possessed. A smirk played on his lips as he leaned forward, eyes dropping to her lips. “I misbehave always, Lodge. You should know that by now.” He swore her eyes got darker, her teeth catching her bottom lip as she looked at him. What was happening right now? Was he seriously flirting with Veronica Lodge? He hadn’t expected the tiny thing with a loud mouth and a mini skirt to catch his eye, but he was slowly seeing why she had every other boy at Riverdale practically eating out of her palm. He could understand why Andrews was so ass over feet for her now.

She plucked the cherry off of the top of her shake, pulling it from the stem slowly as they sat watching one another. Her nails drummed against the tabletop as she chewed, trying to decide what to do. Sweet Pea was hot, and hanging out with him had been pretty fun so far. She had drank just enough to feel confident and sexy in her sadness, and she was willing to make a few bad decisions. Even though, she didn’t think she’d actually call this a bad decision. It just seemed like the right one in this moment. She sighed, reaching across the table to pull his hand closer, turning his palm up so she could slowly trace the lines there. “Yep, says right here you’re a total rule breaker, Pea. Always misbehaving. I think I can fix that, I’ve got a pretty easy solution.”

Sweet Pea lifted an eyebrow, licking the grease from the fingers she wasn’t holding on to. “You some kinda witch, Lodge? Goin around reading my palm?” He watched her nod her head slowly, her reply of maybe making him chuckle. He should’ve known. He pulled her hand closer and kissed over her knuckles, eyes smoldering up at her. If she was looking for a rebound from Andrews, that was a role he’d willingly play. He wasn’t going to turn down a gorgeous girl when she wants to feel wanted. Especially not when he wanted her as badly as he did suddenly.

He fished out his wallet and tossed down a few tens, sliding out of the booth. Catching the surprise in her eyes, Pea held his hand out, cocking his head toward the door. “Let’s go, Lodge. We can try your solution back at my place.”

He drags her out to his bike, telling her to keep her legs off the pipes so she doesn’t burn herself. The last thing he wants is for his bike to put a mark on her skin before he does. He can tell she’s scared, so he just explains that she needs to hold on, and drives away from Pop’s slower than usual to let her adjust. Once they hit Main, he opens it up to normal speed and feels her tighten her arms around him, her squeals making him grin.

The trip to the southside is a quick one, so it’s not long before he parked his bike in front of his trailer in Sunnyside. Hoping that she wouldn’t turn her nose up at his humble abode, Pea led her up the steps and in to his house. The decor stood the same since his Aunt had died and left him with an absent uncle, with a few pieces of his own added whenever he felt like it. The couch was floral print, but hanging on the wall above it was a few framed pictures of Serpents doing various things, obviously an ode to the club his family loved so much.

Veronica found it absolutely charming. She’d thought she’d be walking in to a pig stye, some sort of filth that every teenage boy seemed to live in, but it was actually tidy, and surprisingly smelled really good. The candle in question was located on the coffee table, filling the space even without being lit. It smelled like sage, one of her favorite smells, making her instantly feel at home. “Surprised to see you have candles and throw pillows, Pea,” she teased, yanking on his hand before he walked too much further in to the house.

She slid her hands up his arms to his shoulders, pushing on to her toes to kiss him slowly, small hands cupping his cheeks. She loved that he still had to lean down to meet her lips, his arms going around her waist to hoist her up against him. She could feel the back of one of her heels coming off, but he seemed to be holding her up as well, so she let it slip off completely. “Sweets, couch,” she groaned against his lips, but he shook his head. His hands slid down her back to briefly squeeze her ass, then dropped to the back of her thighs to lift her up, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist as he started kicking his boots off.

Her lips attached to his neck, scraping her teeth against his Serpent tattoo to make him groan as he dropped her to the large bed. The bedroom was bathed in golden light from the street light outside, so he didn’t bother to flip on a light, just watched her shimmy against his grey bedspread. “Didn’t realize how good you’d look in my bed, Lodge. Though, I’d prefer to see you in less clothing than that.” He yanked his own shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor before he crawled over her to slide his lips along her jaw.

All she could do was whine, letting him pull the sweater from her body, his lips sliding down to her collar bone. Her bra was quickly pulled from her body as well, a gasp escaping her as his lips wrapped around a nipple. “You gonna tell me your solution to my troublemaking?” He asked, teeth pulling at the bud before glancing up at her. Her eyes were closed, head tipped back, lips parted in a silent moan. With that moan, she shivered beneath him, nodding her head.

“Yeah, was gonna make some sort of joke about you putting your hands on my body or something, this is so much better so just forget about that,” she answered, fingers slipping in to his hair to tug gently. She rolled her hips against his, smirking when she felt him hard against her thigh. “Might wanna ditch those jeans, Pea. And help me get rid of this skirt.” She pressed her lips against his again, tugging gently at his bottom lip for a little incentive. His laugh made her smile and open her eyes to scan his face, trying to figure out what he found funny.

“Are you really rushin me, Lodge? You can’t let go of control for a single second can you? Just lay back and enjoy, princess.” Sweet Pea picked himself up on his knees, reaching to tug the skirt down her legs once she’d unzipped the side of it. She seemed to be satisfied with his words, her body becoming liquid on his dark sheets. His smirk returned when he noticed her panties matched her bra, something he expected from the girl. He quickly rid her of those too, sliding down her body to lift a thigh over his shoulder, his tongue sliding through her folds slowly. The sound of her moaning was like music to his ears, only spurring him on to taste her further.

Her hold on his hair guided his tongue, letting her yank him to where she wanted to get a feel for what she liked. To stay a few steps ahead of her, he pushed a finger into her slowly, curling it slowly as his tongue lashed against her clit. He could feel the muscles in her thighs jumping, so he added a second finger, her whimpers turning in to sobs as she fell apart. Slowing his fingers, he let her come down easily, watching as her eyes fluttered open. “Damn, Veronica. Almost took clumps of my hair out, take it easy,” he teased.

Veronica pushed up on one elbow, letting her free hand slide through his hair gently, a satisfied smile on her face. “Let me make it up to you?” She raised an eyebrow, but he shook his head, surprising her by sliding off the bed completely. He reached into the drawer for a condom, ripping the foil open with his teeth before he rolled it on. She gasped when he lifted her body with one arm, carrying her further up the bed to rest against the pillows. She tilted her head to kiss him deeply as he pushed in to her, making her moan against his lips at how good he felt. Her arms went above her to hold the headboard as he thrust into her, and for once Veronica felt perfectly full, her eyes meeting his as he gritted his teeth to pick up speed.

She looked so damn good underneath him that he was pretty sure he might embarrass himself, but if he made it good for her, he was sure she’d give him another round or two to make it up to her. He found a steady rhythm for a while, letting his hands grip her hips tightly to guide her against him. Maybe he’d leave bruises, hoping they’d remind her of him later. Then he lifted a leg up against his chest again, opening her thighs further to thrust deeply, feeling her flex around him. Her moans were turning in to gasps, her whines turning to begging. “Please, Sweets,” she whined, rolling her hips against his, question cut off by a particularly deep thrust. He knew what she wanted, his thumb quickly finding her clit to rub tight circles until she was coming undone, clenching on his dick so tight he was thought he might die.

He thrust through her orgasm, chuckling as she pushed at his shoulder. “Lay back,” she demanded, waiting for him to roll, his hands settling back on her hips once she sank back down on to him again. Once she was settled, she gave him a little smirk before starting to rock her hips back and forth, her nails lightly dragging down his chest, making him growl. How had he managed this? His hands fell to her ass, guiding her hips until he couldn’t stand it anymore, forcing her on to her back again to give her a few deep thrusts, coming with a groan against her neck.

They both laid there for a few moments, trying to catch their breath again. She tapped at his arm, pushing him a little to get him to roll off of her so he wouldn’t crush her. “Damn, Sweets,” she panted, watching him push himself up to get rid of the condom. Once he’d crawled back on to the bed to lay down, she scooted against his side, head dropping to his chest to lay against him as her mind wandered. She felt amazing, thankful for the several orgasms he coaxed from her even after she’d been having a very shitty and long night. That magic she’d been missing with Archie seemed to manifest tenfold with Pea, making her head swim with thoughts that she was sure were related to rebounding so quickly. Maybe. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen next with her and Archie, or what might happen in Riverdale, but whatever happened, she knew she’d be okay. That things would inevitably get better like they always did.

While her fingers traced nonexistent patterns on his stomach, Pea let his eyes rest, just breathing her in, still surprised by the wild turn of events this evening. He’d have swung on anyone who told him that he’d be naked in his bed with Veronica Lodge. Then again, she’d shown him just how totally different she was than what he’d thought she was like. Maybe some of these northsiders weren’t so bad. Or maybe it was just Veronica. His hand slid over her back slowly, finally opening his eyes to look down at her, a smile appearing on his lips when he noticed she’d fallen asleep. Not surprising, they’d both had long nights. It was nearly five am.

Trying not to jostle her, Sweet Pea reached for the grey quilt and tugged it up over the two of them, making sure his phone was plugged in next to the bed before settling in for the night. Girls didn’t usually sleep over, then again, none of them were this girl. So he’d let it slide. He liked the way she seemed to cling to him anyways. Slowly, he let himself fall asleep, one thought seeming to repeat itself. Andrews could suck it. He was keeping this one to himself from now on.

[la-appel-du-vide]

Day Five:

04•06•18

Today was my first time ever at Universal Studios! I was really excited going into the day because A - Harry Potter EVERYTHING. And B - It’s super fun to ride new rides. You have no idea what to expect and that’s exciting.

And the day definitely lived up to expectations.

Kind of a rocky start having to get up super early to make the drive up in LA traffic. But once we got there things got better. Dad had accidentally shipped our tickets that he ordered to the wrong address. He was trying to talk to somebody about how to print new ones with his confirmation code, and they ended up talking him into upgrading to VIP tickets. (He’s easily swayed, spontaneous, and he REALLY hates waiting in lines hahah.) It was expensive, but well worth it for us! Made our day totally awesome.

Once we got our passes, we were let into the VIP lounge, where we had access to a continental breakfast and snacks throughout the day. We ate, and then headed out to one of the most fun days ever. Our passes gave us immediate entry to all the rides in the park. Since Universal doesn’t have fast passes like Disney, I was expecting to spend a lot of time waiting in lines. But no! Dad’s awesome. We could walk on to any ride, even Harry Potter which always had a two hour wait.

We definitely started there. Walking through Hogsmeade Village was surreal. They did an incredible job paying attention to detail while building it. It felt like stepping into the movie set. As a kid who grew up with Harry Potter books for best friends, I was just in awe. And then we saw Hogwarts. Equally amazing!

The main Harry Potter ride takes place inside Hogwarts. We were eager to get on. We walked through our VIP access line past all the people waiting in line and it was pretty sweet. The whole line walks you through Hogwarts - the moving portraits, Dumbledore’s office, the Great Hall with floating candles… wow. So cool. And THE RIDE. 😮 Absolutely incredible on another level. That first ride had us all shook. You fly on an adventure with Harry Potter to the Forbidden Forest, play quidditch, escape a dragon, face spiders, fight dementors… all of it felt totally real and so cool. One of the most impressive rides I’ve ever been on. We all got off of it with the same reaction. Wow.

Then we rode the other Harry Potter ride, which was just your basic roller coaster. And basic it was…. so short. Wouldn’t have been worth it if we had had to wait for an hour haha.

Then we headed down to the lower level to hit three other big rides before our studio tour. We started with The Mummy, which was a really fast roller coaster in the dark. Intense, and fun. Next was Jurassic Park. This thing is like a super-sized Splash Mountain, with an 84-foot drop. We ended up sitting in the front, and I had to sit on the side too. After the first little drop, I was already soaked. And that only got worse after the big drop. All the hard work I had put into my hair that day was ruined. 😂 Aubrey and I were definitely the most soaked. Everyone else walked away pretty dry. But Dad sure got a kick out of laughing at us. “You got a little wet. 😂😂😂” Freaking Dad. 😂 And finally we rode Transformers. I’ve never seen the movies so I didn’t have a lot of context, but the ride was freaking awesome. It was my favorite in the park, other than Harry Potter. Universal just does such a good job of making you believe that you are actually in the movie. I felt like I was really riding a transformer. There were moments that my heart totally dropped out of anxiety that we were really going to smash into the ground. Ahhhh it was so fun! Mom didn’t ride it with us at first, because it said you may not want to ride if you have a fear of tight spaces, but we convinced her it wouldn’t bother her and she rode it immediately after with me and Aubs. And she loved it too. Killer ride.

We had a tour scheduled for 12:15, so we made our way back up to the upper level. We had a little extra time, so we rode the Simpsons ride. It was a virtual roller coaster, and it was cool, but not my favorite and I’m not really a fan of the Simpsons anyway. That one was hard for mom’s claustrophobia for sure.

We headed back to the VIP lounge to meet our tour guide, Robert. We grabbed some more snacks while we were there, and then headed out with him and our group. It toured out that the first part of the tour was just him walking us through the park and taking us on rides and shows. We weren’t sure we wanted to be stuck with them and would probably rather just do our own thing, but the ride he chose first was Despicable Me, so we figured we might as well ride it. It was another virtual roller coaster type of ride, and it was cute. We got to turn into minions for a few minutes. (;

Afterwards, we went with Robert over to the Animal Actors show. It was so cute. They showed off all the animals they train for movies including dogs, cats, raccoons, guinea pigs, chickens, pigs, and birds. They did lots of cool tricks and it was really funny. When the show was over, we even got to meet some of the actors. (;

At this point, we decided to leave our tour group and meet up again with them later. We walked through The Walking Dead attraction, which was kind of like a lame haunted house haha. They got us a couple of times, but mostly it wasn’t that impressive. Then we went to a show called Water World. Our VIP passes got us into priority seating which was awesome for such a busy show. This was a stunt show that involved jet skis, boats, an airplane, fire, explosions, high dives, and a lot of water. The actors were super entertaining and the show was fantastic.

When the show was over, it was time for lunch. Our VIP Experience came with a buffet lunch in the Paris part of the park. It was so good. So many choices. Everything we ate was fabulous. Chicken fingers, steak, fries, salad, pasta, cake pops, crepes, cookies, chocolate-dipped strawberries… I want to go back to that buffet rn. While we ate, we were greeted by characters like Marilyn Monroe, Lucille Ball, and Dracula.

Then it was time for our Studio Tour with Robert. Anyone in the park can take a studio tour, but since we were VIP, we got to do their tour plus a few extras like: walk on a hot set (meaning a set currently being used and filmed on) for Superstore, drive past the set of The Voice, tour the Universal prop house, walk on the Metro street set which has been used in tons of movies, TV shows, and commercials like every Spider-Man, Gone Girl, American Ninja Warrior, and more and walk around the plane crash set from War of the Worlds. It was such a cool tour, and we learned a lot about filming and movie-making. We also got to do the regular tour stuff, like see the set of Jaws and Psycho, a couple 3D experiences for The Fast and the Furious and King Kong, seeing the set of the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, and more. Probably one of the coolest parts of the day. Didn’t see anyone famous, unfortunately, since Robert said they saw Chris Pratt on one of their tours last week!

After the tour, we were on our own again. Started by getting a Butterbeer from Hogsmeade, which I didn’t like much, but that was expected. The frozen one is definitely better than the drink one though. Then we went into Ollivander’s to watch a wand choose it’s wizard. It was just like the scene from the movie where Harry gets his wand. Super fun. I wanted to buy a wand, but it was just crazy expensive and probably not worth it haha. I did end up buying a Ravenclaw keychain (#RavenclawProud) and a Hogwarts notebook. Then we had to ride Harry Potter again, since we were there of course. (;

Next up was a Special Effects show. That was a fun one too, where they showed us how they create a lot of different special effects. We had fun hosts and enjoyed watching the show.

Our day was quickly coming to an end. We went to watch the Hogwarts night light show, which was similar to Disney World’s with projectors lighting up the castle, just not fireworks. Still pretty to watch, just short. But magical nonetheless.

After that was over, my parents and Whitnie were done for the day and wanted to go home. Aubrey and I wanted to ride some more rides, so we told them we would be quick and meet them at the exit. We started with Harry Potter one last time, but while we were in it, the ride stopped, leaving us hanging almost upside down for a few minutes, hahaha. When it started going again, it was still malfunctioning, so we were looking at a blank wall instead of the video we usually see. Because of that, they let us go on it again. So we ended up riding it four times! Perfect. Then we ran down to do the Mummy again, and finally ended with Transformers.

Such a perfect, fun day. If you’ve never been to Universal, put it on your must-do list next time you’re in the Anaheim/LA area. ⭐️