#doing a full-time internship has left me with no time and no energy to write

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Reunion

ShinoMitsu Week 2023 Day Four

A/N: I had more I could have added to this one, but as I’m writing this, I still have none of day five done so… maybe I could add another part later if enough people are interested? Day six is 2/3 done and day seven is just going to be a doodle cause I’ve got no ideas for the free day, nor time. Anyway, thanks for reading! Word Count: 2,317

Shinobu was exhausted. Having just got off of her shift at the hospital, all she wanted to do was collapse into her bed, but on her way home her mind wandered and she remembered that she had next to nothing in terms of food. That would teach her to keep putting off grocery shopping all week. If she wanted to make the most of her day off tomorrow, er, well, today, she supposed as she caught sight of the time, she had better stock up so she wouldn’t have to leave her apartment.

She parked her car in the twenty-four hour grocery lot, got a cart with an aggravatingly squeaky wheel, and then beelined for the pre-made frozen meals. Would she prefer a home cooked meal? Of course, but she didn’t have the time or energy to prep and cook for herself these days.

She rubbed at her eyes after tossing a couple instant ramen packages into her cart as well. Then she yawned so deeply that it shook her whole body. Maybe she should get some coffee and caffeinated tea while she was at it.

She rolled her cart down the aisle, head nodding. Her eyes drooped shut for but a moment…

Crrsshhh!

Shinobu’s eyes shot open and her head snapped up. She had just full on crashed into another shopper’s cart! Maybe she should call a driving service if she couldn’t even steer a cart without falling asleep.

“I am so sorry! My brain has totally left me it seems.”

“Oh, don’t worry it’s… Shinobu? Is that you?”

Shinobu rubbed her bleary eyes, blinking a couple times before her cart of junk came into focus. Then she looked to the cart she had run into, piled high with all manner of fresh vegetables and fruits, baking goods, a little bit of everything. Like a mini pantry of what you’d see on those cooking competition shows.

Then she finally brought her eyes to the woman on the other side of the vastly different carts. The pink-green hair was a dead giveaway and it hit Shinobu like a quadruple shot of espresso.

“Mitsuri?”

Mitsuri lit up, “Oh wow, I can’t believe it! I haven’t seen you since high school. How have you been?”

“Ah,” Shinobu stammered, still waking up apparently, “Mhm, yeah, I’ve been alright. I finished my internship abroad last year. Now I’m starting my residency at the local hospital. As you can probably tell, they’ve been raking me over the coals.” She chuckled uncomfortably, suddenly acutely aware of how disheveled she was. “But enough about me, what have you been up to?”

“I own a diner a couple streets down. Twenty-four hour breakfast and all manner of sugary treats!” Mitsuri beamed.

“That’s wonderful. I recall that owning your own restaurant was the goal after you finished culinary school. Congratulations.”

“Thank you! You should totally come by sometime. I’d love to catch up.“

“Yeah?” Shinobu tried to slow her thumping heart, “That sounds nice. I’d love that too.”

Mitsuri was as bright and cheerful as ever, even in a grocery store at almost two in the morning. Shinobu had thought she had finally gotten over her after all this time, but now she felt like she had been hit by Cupid’s grocery cart all over again. There had been a reason they had fallen out of touch beyond different time zones and busy, ever-shifting schedules. Shinobu just couldn’t take the heartache of falling for someone she couldn’t have and slipped away.

“So,” Shinobu cleared her throat, “Is that what you’re up to now, topping off your ingredients for the diner?”

“Uh, nope! These groceries are for personal use.” Mitsuri gave an awkward laugh. “Maybe I went a little overboard.”

“Not at all.” Shinobu quickly corrected. “When you’re cooking from scratch, you’re naturally going to have a fuller cart. It’s better than what I’ve got going on over here.” She gestured to her own cart and Mitsuri gasped when she saw the stack of cardboard boxes and instant ramen.

“Shinobu!” Mitsuri squeaked, “What do you think your doing with all of those?!”

“I don’t really have time to cook a whole meal for myself. Any time I can save for sleeping is worth it to me.” She replied a bit defensively.

“Even so!” Mitsuri huffed, “There’s no love in there! When was the last time you had a proper home cooked meal?”

“I don’t know,” Shinobu rubbed the back of her neck as she wracked her brain, “maybe when I visited my parents five or six months ago.”

“That’s half a year Shinobu!” Mitsuri blanched. “You’ve been eating like this non stop for half a year?!”

Actually, Shinobu had been eating like this ever since she finished her undergrad. Medical school and internships had left little room for spending extra time on making her own meals. Given the way Mitsuri was looking at her at the moment, she didn’t think it wise to tell her this.

“I get take-out sometimes too.” She shared instead.

“Okay, nononono,” Mitsuri shook her head and stepped around her cart to take Shinobu’s out of her slack hands, “Come on, we’re putting these back.”

“Mitsuri—“

“There are plenty of filling recipes that take about as much time to make as it takes to heat this junk up. I’ll steer you right, Shinobu!”

And Shinobu was powerless to stop her. She trailed after Mitsuri like a lost child as all of her go-to meals were shoved back into the freezers and replaced with ingredients that struck a surprising amount of fear into her. How long had it been since she cut and cooked an onion even? The level of intimidation she was feeling in this moment was palpable.

“Uh, Mitsuri, I don’t know if I’m suited for whatever you have in mind…”

“Hm? What do you mean, Shinobu? We used to cook together all the time when we were growing up, remember?”

“Yes, it’s just been awhile…” A very long while, “In all honesty, I’m not sure what you expect me to make with all of this.”

“That’s why I’m going to help you. You should really come over and crash at my place anyway since you’re already sleeping at the wheel so to speak.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, I was going to call a ride share, I swear.” Shinobu unexpectedly felt a flutter of panic in her chest. “Besides, it’s so late and Obanai wouldn’t be expecting company, right?”

“Ah, you don’t have to be concerned about him.” Mitsuri said, suddenly drumming and dancing her fingers over the handlebar of Shinobu’s grocery cart as they walked back down the aisle to her abandoned cart, “We broke up a couple years ago. It’s just me and my cats now and they won’t mind a visitor.”

Choosing to ignore the mention of cats, Shinobu chose to focus on the surprising news of the high school sweethearts falling out of love, how did that happen?

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry I brought him up.”

“It’s okay,” Mitsuri assured, “It wasn’t an easy choice at the time, but I think we made the right call. We just sorta… grew apart. Wanted different things. We’re still best friends though.”

“I’m glad you still get along at least.” And she meant it too, even though a big part of her was rejoicing on the inside. She was acutely aware at how close they had been. She pretty much had a front row seat all throughout high school and having had a crush on Mitsuri since seventh grade, she really couldn’t blame herself for choosing to slowly fade out of Mitsuri’s life in the years that followed.

“Me too. So, any special someone in your life?”

“Nope.” There had been some dates, even one night stands, but romance and vulnerability came difficultly to Shinobu, especially when her heart still belonged to someone else who didn’t even know she had it.

“Geez, Shinobu, you really need a better work life balance.” Mitsuri shook her head disapprovingly, then smiled, touching Shinobu’s hand, “But I guess it’s a good thing. I don’t have to worry about stealing you away from someone waiting for you at home.”

“I suppose that is convenient.” She really wished her heart wasn’t threatening to beat out of her chest because of Mitsuri’s casual choice of words, but what could she do?

“Come on, let’s go check out. Hey, does your car have enough room for a bicycle?”

Shinobu often got a lot of teasing from her co-workers for driving a minivan when she had no spouse, kids or big pets that would justify such a big vehicle for one person. It suited her just fine, however. With how often she had to move around to further her education, the van was basically her second home and it made moving so much easier.

“Yeah, I’ve got room.”

They checked out their groceries and piled them into Shinobu’s van, along with Mitsuri’s bicycle. How Mitsuri was going to make it home with that many groceries on a bike of all things, Shinobu didn’t have to wonder. Mitsuri had always been incredibly strong, so she didn’t doubt that Mitsuri had done so several times before.

Mitsuri driving her car however, let’s just say Shinobu was not in danger of falling asleep with her behind the wheel.

“Sorry about the jerkiness. I pretty much bike everywhere. My driver’s license is still valid though, don’t worry!”

Fortunately Mitsuri didn’t live terribly far from the grocery store. She lived on the third floor of a cute little townhouse. The whole apartment smelled like baked apples and cinnamon sugar. It was so warm and cozy too. Just like that, Shinobu was in danger of falling asleep again.

“Home sweet home,” Mitsuri sighed pleasantly, sliding off her shoes, “please make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you.” Shinobu kicked off her shoes and hung her jacket beside Mitsuri’s on the rack.

“Mew.”

“Mroow.”

Oh no, Shinobu had forgotten what Mitsuri had said about cats. She stood awkwardly in the door way as the fluffiest cats she had ever seen slunk over. One white, one black.

“Hi kitties! Sorry for coming home so late. Let’s get you a snack too, shall we? You’ll be eating in my bedroom tonight.” She opened a cupboard in the kitchen that had the cats go from curiously sniffing at Shinobu to pawing Mitsuri’s legs in a matter of seconds. “The white one is Love Fluff and the Black one is Mr. Sooty Pants,” Mitsuri told Shinobu from over her shoulder. What dignified names. “I’ll make sure they leave you alone. You’re still allergic, right?”

“Yeah. Sorry for the trouble.”

“No trouble at all. I sometimes have to put them away when I’m in the kitchen anyway. They are sooo nosey. You should be safe sleeping in the guest room. I always keep the door closed unless I have company over or I’m cleaning.”

Ever so considerate. Shinobu could just melt. If this became a regular thing, she would definitely invest in some allergy medication.

“Okay, kitties are set up. Now a very, very early morning snack for us.” Mitsuri rolled up her sleeves and begin washing her hands.

Shinobu asked how she could help and Mitsuri directed her to put the groceries away. By the time she was done, Mitsuri had two yogurt and fruit parfaits sprinkled with granola and oats at the ready. Shinobu took one bite and visibly sunk into her chair. She had never taken recreational drugs, but she imagined this single bite of parfait was definitely comparable. The fresh berries paired with the smooth and creamy yogurt and the added crunch of the granola and oats was absolutely heavenly.

“Is it good?” Mitsuri giggled.

“Extremely.”

“Your poor tastebuds. I won’t rest until I’m sure they’ll never be neglected again!” Mitsuri nodded resolutely.

They spent a little more time talking as they ate, but soon retired for the night. Shinobu didn’t think she ever fell asleep as fast as she did in Mitsuri’s guest room. Not only that, but her slumber was restful too. When she woke up a later in the afternoon, she felt energized by the smells wafting from the kitchen.

“Good morning! Oh, wait, good afternoon!” Mitsuri greeted when she noticed Shinobu enter the kitchen, “I’m almost finished here. Take a seat and help yourself.”

“Wow, thank you Mitsuri, this all looks amazing.”

The counter was filled with hash browns, eggs, sweet and savory crepes, waffles, fruits, coffee and tea. Shinobu quickly filled her plate with a bit of everything.

“I hope you like it. Breakfast is kind of my specialty after all.” Mitsuri joined Shinobu at the table and began filling her own plate.

“It’s all very good, Mitsuri, really. Thank you so much for this.”

“You’re welcome! Eat up!”

Shinobu ate until she was fit to burst and then set to work on the dishes. She thought it was the least she could do far all the work Mitsuri had done. When the kitchen was cleaned, they moved to the living room to talk, catching up on all the goings on of the last decade. The more they talked, it was almost like no time had passed at all. Shinobu wished the day would never end, but it steadily grew later and after dinner, she forced herself to broach the subject of going home.

Mitsuri was disappointed that she had to leave, but after getting Shinobu’s phone number she seemed a lot happier.

“I’ll make sure we meet up again soon, Dr. Busy Bee,” she promised, “And I’ll send you all the recipes I had in mind when we picked your groceries. They’re super easy, I swear.”

“I trust you. Thank you again for today.” Shinobu really couldn’t thank Mitsuri enough. She accepted the taller girl’s hug and blushed when she received a kiss on the cheek for good measure.

[findingfirediaries]

Day 0/100 - 15.09.24

There is a story I wrote once called "the sculptor and the marble". It was my way of coping with things, ordering my thoughts by writing them down. So this project, this 100 days is exactly meant to do that: help me order my thoughts.

I am going to be honest, I feel like I have hit rock bottom. I feel like I am lying on the ground, no fight left in me. I am a ship, helplessly thrown around by the sea.

I don't want to be like this. I am so much more than this. I am so much more.

This is going to be messy, filled with rambling and probably annoyingly repetitive, but I don't know what else to do. How else to get myself back on track. I need to scream into the void, because screaming inside is no longer working.

And I am so tired. Why am I so tired?

Fine. Fine. I will focus now. I will try and stay on track. I feel like whenever I am looking up, I view the world from behind a muted glass. When I try to have a clear thought, it slips away. My mind is foggy. Is this truly only tiredness? I didn't sleep well tonight. Perhaps tomorrow will be better. It has to be better.

ARGH.

Okay. Let's be clear on why I am doing this. My name is Ember. I am the most ambitious yet least successful person I know. I am good with words and bad with actions, juggle all my illusions at the same time and feel like I am one second away from drowning.

Very poetic, Ember. Love it. Fine. Let's face reality.

I have to write 7 exams in 4 weeks. I am not half as prepared as I should be. If I have more than 2 open modules, I will not be able to go on my year aboard. I cannot allow that to happen. I need to achieve an average of 95% on all of these exams. I haven't started studying properly. I am low key fucked. Four weeks. Four goddamn weeks.

I am fat, out of shape and don't look half as good as I could. I don't exercise regularly. I have terrible food habits.

I need to get an internship but haven't even started applying or preparing.

I feel overwhelmed by the world, don't have good habits and feel constantly exhausted.

I need a plan. And I need it now.

Okay. Project 100. Project 100 will save me. 100 days from now. That's.. Christmas actually. Okay. Okay. Okay.

I have till Christmas to fix myself and four weeks to fix my studying.

FUCK ME.

Okay. Daily plans. Daily plans will save me. Let's think about habits. Let's think about studying. Can I do this? I need to do this. Biggest problem: Being in a caloric deficit will make me really tired. But I need my energy. And I have Uni on top of that. This is not going great. Mh. Okay. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

Okay. Don't spiral.

------------------

Create a 3 weeks study plan. Full focus.

Create a 1 week Exam study plan. 1 Week. Full focus.

Create a sports plan. Get a private trainer? Create a nutrition plan. Stick to it. Change my food mindset.

Apply to one internship per week.

Create a list of habits I want to do. Create a morning routine. Create the person I want to be for the next 6 weeks and then next 100 days.

-------------------

I need to prove myself that I can do this. I need to do this. For myself.

[saturnsummer]

worthy.

When Sol gets a GPA of 2.02, the study group (and Joon Hwi) comes together to cheer her up. 

notes: another prompt by @thenerdywriter ! i wasn't sure if you meant it like this, but i hope you are satisfied! thank you for your prompt and your trust! i do apologise for the wait!

not much fluff or cliche romantic scenes, but just simple things that i hope when you read, remember your worth and never be defeated. you are worthy, loved and deserving to be appreciated. :) inbox always open!

for anyone who have sent prompts and asks, i thank you for your ideas! i have read through all your asks and am so excited to begin writing, but please understand if i can’t reply you as fast as i hoped! so sorry for this, i’ll try to address my inbox faster!! any mistakes or incorrect information will be taken responsible by me. enjoy!

edit: everyone, please don’t cry on this omg I’ve made 5 people comment their tears now and im terribly sorry for the tears.. I meant for this to be a light hearted story but looks like everyone is crying,, I’ll try not to make people cry now..

original prompt: where joon hwi and the rest of the gang shake some sense into her (sol a) about her self-esteem. 

words: 2787 words

Sol is downstairs at the lounge, holding a clear bottle of soju. She takes another swig from the plastic bottle, hoping that the alcohol can numb her heart like it does to her head. It burns, and she’s turning woozy, but she grumbles and takes another swig. 

2.02. She’s passed, at least. But she can’t help but feel upset. She wasn’t upset that she couldn’t score as well as Yeseul or BokGi, but upset that she’s satisfied with these low results. No one is going to hire her, even less offer an internship while looking at her track records. 

Sol worked her ass off for this exam. She nearly died, if it wasn’t for Yeseul’s reminders to eat. Even her cold stoned face roommate bothered to place bottles of water on her desk. Yet, after all this... 

“Why are you still up?” She hears Joon Hwi ask as he takes a seat next to her. She stays silent with a grim expression and turns away. Joon Hwi was the last person she wanted to see, especially when she’s in such a bad mod. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks as he catches her arm just as she’s about to chug her soju. 

“Everything.” She slurs. “You know I’m not even upset with my GPA? I’m upset of being happy with my shitty grades.” Joon Hwi sighs, attempting to grab her bottle away.

“I should have never came to study. I should have never tried to prove myself to be Dan!” She scolds louder. Sol knows she’s drunk in front of her best friend, but she can’t control herself. She doesn’t care. 

“Kang Sol...” Joon Hwi stands up, grabbing her bottle away from her. “You’re drunk. Go back.” 

“I don’t belong here, anyway.” Her slurs catch Joon Hwi in his steps. 

“I never once belonged with any of you. Being with all of you just drags you all further. I should just stop burdening you all with my questions and rot in a corner. Besides, no one would care.” She softly says, her voice filled with regret and guilt. 

Sol has always felt this way. Ever since she was young, Dan was always the star child. She got top grades while Sol got through in the middle rankings. Dan was always more popular, prettier, smarter. Sol learnt at a young age that no matter what, she would always be overshadowed by Dan. 

Thus, she learnt to be quiet. Only ask questions when she really needs to. Stick to familiar people. Only be loud when told to, and blend in in every situation. She learnt to depreciate herself, because no one appreciated her in the first place. 

Joon Hwi wants to shake her. He wants to write an entire dissertation on why Sol belongs to Hankuk. He wants to show her what he sees: a smart, caring, passionate lawyer-to-be. He wants to show her what he sees when she testified for Professor Yang in court. A confident, woman knowing her morals and rights.

“Kang Sol.” Joon Hwi says, pulling her up by her wrist. Sol pushes him away, but her touches are sloppy and weak. Sighing, Joon Hwi knows that it is useless to argue about her grades and her worth when she’s not even half conscious of what she’s doing. 

He grabs her coat lying on the couch, finding her phone and plans on calling Yeseul. But it’s past 1am, but he doesn’t want to trouble Yeseul. Sighing, he contemplates calling her roomie but reality smacks when he realises she’s home. Noticing how Sol is slowly nodding off, giving in to the fatigue, it leaves Joon Hwi not much of an option to carry her back.

Fishing the room key out from her coat, he takes special care in carrying her, sweeping his arm under her knee and lifting her slowly as to not disrupt her from falling asleep. The key card is in between his fingers as he slowly and quietly makes his way up to her dorm. He thanks the deities above that no one caught him or interrupted him. 

Tapping the key card, a standard ‘beep’, he pushes the door with his back, and takes care to get him and her into the dark room. He can barely see anything, especially since he has no hands to on the lights, but he makes out his way in the small room using the moonlight and what he can tell. 

Joon Hwi knows which side Sol sleeps, knowing from her stories that include her rolling from the bed up to the desk. By now, Sol was sleeping soundly, a slight snore escaping her. Gently, he sets her down on her bed and reaches to take her shoes off for her. Hanging up her coat that he placed on top of her whilst he was carrying her, he finally pulled the thick blanket over her.

But he didn’t leave just yet.

“I never once belonged with any of you.”

Sol’s words echoed in his head more than he thought it would. He stopped and bent down silently by her bed side, taking a few moments to wonder to himself just how and why does she feel so unworthy.

He grabs her bottle of water from her bag, before putting it next to her phone, which is on the table. Knelt on the floor, he observes the slow rise of her chest and the way her eyes flutter and nose twitch when Sol sleeps. Just how can someone like Sol think she’s any less than what he sees?

“You belong here in Hankuk. I’ll show you just why.” His whisper barely audible, as he brushes away a stray hair on her face. With that, he takes his leave and sneaks back to his dorm. (Without getting caught)

-----

The next day, after two painkillers and a big bowl of hangover soup (left mysteriously by someone at their pantry), Sol is headed to study group. She is running a few minutes early than their scheduled timing, but she’s surprised to find the group huddled in hushed whispers. 

“What are you all looking at?” Sol asks, as she sets her book at her usual corner opposite Joon Hwi. BokGi lets out a startled yelp and Yebeom clamps his mouth shut. Sol isn’t surprised to see Jiho crowded there, but is even more shocked to see Sol B crowded with them too. If it was anything, Sol B wouldn’t crowd around and discuss things, unless it concerned herself, or benefitted her grades.

“What...” Sol leans over and raises her eyebrows. Yeseul’s eyes dart nervously and she breaks into a smile. The rest of the group just shuffles back to their seats murmuring under their breath.

“Nothing, unnie! They were just discussing on what to order for lunch.” Yeseul says as she walks over to Sol and takes her bag and books from her, before setting it on the table. “Unnie, shall we get coffees?” Yeseul escorts her out of the room before Sol could react. Sol assumes that it’s due to her hangover that Yeseul is suggesting coffee, thus just following and getting a cold brew and assorted drinks for the others. 

When she returns, they distribute the drinks and start discussing on what to study. 

“Noona, do you have anything?” BokGi asks, a little too enthusiastically. Sol is taken aback and lost for words. She usually just follows whatever the rest want, since answering her questions will take hours. Joon Hwi gives a sympathetic smile. 

“How about you share with us about a recent case? Remember the one that Professor Kim liked in particular?” Joon Hwi suggests. Sol grows quiet. Her? The worst student? Sol let’s out an uncertain laugh.

“Ah, me? I rather my roomie shares. She did better than me.” Sol says, then prepares a fresh document for note taking on her laptop.

“I didn’t do well.” Sol B says quietly, her eyes emotionless as usual, leaning back into the chair. “You did the best. Go on.” Sol is stunned and just nods uncertainly. Taking out her case notes and her reports that she submitted, she nervously discusses the topic on hand. She sneaks Joon Hwi a couple of questioning stares but he only pretends to not catch her eyes.

Everyone is enthusiastic, asking questions and when Sol is stumped, they jump in to help her. They suggest ideas and Sol has never felt so energised by their energy before. She find it fishy how Joon Hwi just sits back and she can feel him smiling whenever she makes a point right or figures out a missing link.

An hour later, when they are done expanding on Sol’s case and discussing, they break for a late lunch together.  Yebeom enters the room with bags of food, as usual over ordering. As they pass out containers of jjampong and jjajamyeon, Sol’s eyes light up when she saw the only thing that mattered in the whole order: her beloved pickles, in doubled servings. 

What Sol doesn’t expect is for JiHo to dump his packet of pickles on her container of noodles. 

“JiHo-ah, why...” Sol is dumbfounded for a moment as JiHo opens his pack of noodles to stir. JiHo only pushes up his glasses. 

“You can have them, noona.” Sol is even more dumbfounded. This was the first time JiHo has called her noona. She didn’t care for the honourifics, and JiHo could call her by her full name for all she cared. But hearing those words from Seo JiHo’s mouth, just made her think everyone was utterly suspicious today.

“Okay, everyone is being weird. What is this?” Sol announces, hoping her tone came out fun, with no hints of anger. 

“Nothing! We just know you’ve been feeling stressed, so JiHo decided to give you his share of pickles, right?” BokGi quips up, as he dives into taking the sauce to pour over the tangsuyuk, before Yebeom and him argue over pouring or dipping. 

Sol, still feeling suspicious, breaks her chopsticks just as Joon Hwi picks up a pickle from her plastic saucer to put on her noodles. Her eyes dart from his chopstick to his face, but he just nods at her pickles, expressions hard to read.

Sol crunches on her pickles, but it does nothing to soothe the feeling that everyone was aware of something, but her. 

-----

The rest of the week was a puzzle piece that Sol could not fix together.

She woke up everyday to a new message by Joon Hwi, sometimes sending her funny videos, or a simple “let’s get through this together”. She woke up once to her roomie handing her breakfast and coffee. It just didn’t click in Sol’s head to see the cold Sol B hand her a sandwich and coffee.

Their group chat was undoubtedly noisy, but even more so now. Something in common was how the more chatty ones would ask Sol for advice or chat and strike noisy conversations. She was used to the chaos, but she definitely didn’t feel used to having the attention on her.

As the group had earned different internships from small and large firms, Sol was going to be left in school alone, still applying and hoping for one to come her way. Her study group knew about it, and instead continued to encourage her about it. They avoided talk on their internships, and actively tried to help Sol. While Sol was grateful, she couldn’t help but wish that they would just act normal and not worry about her.

She chose to meet them for breakfast on the day of their internships. The meal was noisy as usual as they ate their sandwiches and gimbaps. They were dressed smartly in their suits with their briefcases. Sol made a fuss over everyone looking smart on their first day.

“Hurry up and eat, you’re going to be late for your internship!” Sol scolded BokGi as he and Yebeom threw comments back and forth. Everyone was off for theirs and ready with their jackets and bags. Walking with them to the door, she couldn’t help but feel like a mom to her kids, sending them to school.

“Noona! Check your table later in the libra-” Yebeom gleefully mused before BokGi clamped his mouth shut and JiHo (with much irritation) smacked his head silently.

“What?” Sol asks, turning to Joon Hwi, who was turning redder by the second. Joon Hwi closes his eyes, the same way he does when he’s embarrassed and looks away from her.

“Listen to Yebeom and check the table.” He says, finally looking at her. “We’ll see you for dinner then.” Waving a quick goodbye, the group walked away from her towards the carpark where they separated to the bus stops or in the direction of the train station.

“O-Okay…” she mutters, still confused as she carries her books and bag to her usual table at the library. She would have went to sulk at Professor Kim’s office for a while, but she instead chose to head straight to study. Professor Kim had enough on her plate and she wasn’t ready just yet to face Professor Kim with her mood.

There, at her table, lies her stack of books.

Normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Huffing out, she slumps her bag on her table, gathering the post its on the bar above the table. Most of them were just plain comments, like how she had to stop slamming her pen into her hand (it distracted students) or move out of the library cause there aren't enough seats. Opening her book on civil code, she was ready to start drilling her head before meeting Professor Kim. 

Then she spots an envelope, hidden between the pages of the book.

Carefully, she picks it out and looks on the cream white paper, the only ink on it her name, written in neat handwriting. She could recognise Joon Hwi’s handwriting anywhere. A slight scoff escapes her lips and several students turn in annoyance. Realising that this was probably not the best place to be in, she grabs her books and bags (and the post its) and leaves the library. She heads to the empty study room, where she knows she’s be comfortable at.

Opening the flap, she slips out numerous slips of paper, varying degrees of length and sizes. Some words were neat, some were a little messy.

-----

To: Unnie <3

Sol-unnie, you know you’re smart, right? Your grades may not show that you are the best, but I know you are! Whenever I hear you discuss a case with the study group, I know you’re trying your best to memorise and improve. Don’t give up, unnie! I will support you till the end!

- Yeseul 

To: Sol-A noona

Yah, noona! You have to stop injuring yourself, okay? You gave us a really big scare the last time when you started nose bleeding in the midst of study group. Noona, don’t look at your grades anymore! If a man like me can get through law school so far pretty well, you can too! Fighting, noona! 

Noona~ you’re really talented. The fact that you scored so well during the criminal law test and managed to spot the comma just shows for amazing you are! Noona, don’t be discouraged... seeing you discouraged makes us sad too. Your favourite dongsaeng is here to help you! 

- BokGi and Yebeom 

To: Kang Sol-A

You can do it. Review your cases before classes. Get your internship.

-JiHo

To: Sol-A

Live up to your name, will you? And sleep on a regular schedule. 

- Roommate

To: Sol

Sunbae, remember me? Stop doubting yourself and trust yourself. You’re smarter than you know and fit for court. I will support you from wherever you are. I’m grateful for you, for supporting me all this time. I think Dan would be proud of you, and so will the cookie Byeol. 

Sol, you are worthy in my eyes. So stop undermining yourself. You belong in Hankuk next to me. You can’t give up now.

-Joon Hwi

-----

Sol lets a smile creep on her face as she lets a small blush rise to her face. Holding her letters to her heart, she closes her eyes, reminding herself of the past week and her friend’s efforts to cheer her on. She knew no doubt it had to be Joon Hwi who convinced everyone there to write for her despite their busy schedule. For even Sol B to help out and bother about her, it warmed her heart to have her support.

Picking her book, she pinned her hair up as she started drill into her book with a new found confidence, fuelled by her friends supporting her. But most importantly, she felt worthy. She felt loved. She felt confident. She was hopeful.

(Everyone thinks she’s worthy in their eyes, but one just thinks she’s perfect.)

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High: The Seven Ep 1

Meet the Maidens

It is back to school baby, both for D20 and, funnily enough, myself as well (something I hope will give me more time to get the recaps out in a timely manner fingers crossed). 

As I’m sure you all know if you’re reading this, this season of D20 takes place in the world of Fantasy High but with a focus on Aguefort’s OTHER most badass adventuring party who we’ve so far only seen on the sidelines, the Seven Maidens! You’ll recall, they’re made up of the seven girls who were captured by Penelope and co. to fulfill the prophecy that would let Kalvaxus rule the world freshman year. And, in fact, we start with a flashback to freshman year so let’s just jump right in.

We find our seven soon-to-be heroines chained in the Red Waste in front of what we know and they will shortly learn in Kalvaxus’ lair--a crucial part of the prophecy that was the subject of season 1. The structure of this episode is sort of like 2 rounds of introductions--first here with the maidens meeting each other for the first time and then again at home with their families a la the first episode of Freshman Year so I’ll be glossing over certain things that we’ll get to later in their second intros.

Anyway, the first two to wake up are Danielle (aka Yelle: half-elf, druid) and Zelda (satyr, barbarian as we know). Zelda is her usual, adorably nervous self in contrast to Yelle who is no less sweet but in a super chill, granola girl, fuck the system kind of way. We actually learn that Penelope had her on board with the plan for a hot second when she thought it was just “overthrow the government” but didn’t know about the “install a just as bad if not worse evil dragon overlord” part. 

Ostentatia (dwarf, cleric) wakes up next and is, as Izzy--her player--describes her “Jersey Trash.”, all blinged up with jewelry that she secretly made herself and didn’t buy. She wakes up pissed and ready to bodyslam Aelwyn which are both extremely valid emotions as much as I love Aelwyn. By the way, all of the girls recognize each other as girls who go to their school but none of them are really friends though they very quickly start throwing the label around because that’s what you do when you wake up chained with 6 other people in front of a dragon’s lair in a place called the Red Waste. 

Katja (half-orc, fighter) wakes up and immediately cares about nothing more than the status of her beloved horse, Cinnamon and declares that if Cinnamon dies, she’ll die. This is a fantasy world so Ostentatia and Danielle are a little concerned that might literally be true via a soul bond or something but it’s more that Katja just really, really loves that horse. Danielle tries to cast a spell to locate the horse but can’t get the somatic components quite right with her hands manacled. 

They all get into a discussion about the fact that everyone for a fact knows they’re all virgins now (you know, the real issue here) and what exactly counts as “virginity” for the purposes of this prophecy (like, does second or third base count or only traditional home runs using the baseball analogy) when Penny wakes up and is, just so excited to be here gang! Penny (halfling, rogue), who is one of the girls who has been kidnapped the longest, is adorably and honestly a bit concerningly exuberant to be surrounded by all these new friends, totally disregarding  the fact that they are clearly in some deep shit. Zelda mentions that Riz, her old babysitee, knows they’re kidnapped and is trying to help and she lights up. 

Next up is Sam (water genasi, sorc/bard) who immediately starts thrashing to get out of her chains and, when she can’t get free, is devastated by the fact that her ex betrayed her (!?) Finally Antiope (human fighter/ranger) wakes up all out of sorts having started her growth spurt while in the crystal and also having needed to pee right before she went in which becomes a problem all over herself (which Sam helpfully cantrips away).

With all of them awake, the stones they’re chained to light up and some of Kalvaxus’ minions (the ones who tied them up) show up to do minion speechifying. Yelle does a horrifying Animorph style morph into a waterbear (a tardigrade if you wanna get all Bio 101) to get out of her bonds but then Sam who has a serious one track mind re: getting out of here (Correct) and has exactly zero patience for these guys casts Tidal Wave and just knocks them off the cliff. Yelle frees Ostentatia who frees everyone else with Animate Object on their chains. Hands free, Yelle also casts Locate Animal and tells a very pleased Katja that Cinnamon is doing a full Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron down the highway searching for her. 

The girls decide to explore the cave which has recently had most of its treasure moved (it’s currently in the gym for the Prompocolypse fight which is currently happening). Penny and Sam (who are in insanely different emotional places) find all these broken mirrors which Sam takes as a cue that they need to GTFO (which is what she was already doing) and Penny thinks would make a great material for friendship bracelet making which she starts doing as Sam physically pulls her away. Sam hears someone doing post-cry sniffles and is like, “Not today Satan,” still trying to leave. However, Penny sees that there is one mirror left and, inside, sees a ethereal looking human with flowing, preternatural, black hair who senses their presence and asks if Penny is someone named Anima. She asks for their names though she declines to give hers (hmm, feels very fae) and the girls give the fake names of Kelly and Cecelia which the figure says she will guard and not misuse. The figure says she is looking for her sisters (who she says when Penny asks are at Aguefort which...hmmmmm) and, all of a sudden, Sam and Penny are having a bad feeling about those mirror shards. 

They ask her a question about the mirror and she gets really aggro when it’s referred to as “her” mirror as she would very much like to be out of it. The woman really wants to get out and says she can give them lots of power if they help. Sam pulls out her compact Mirror of the Past (magic item that does basically what you’d expect--shows you info from something’s past though in a cryptic way usually) to try and get some info on this thing and just barely avoids losing her mind in the process because this thing is ancient. Like eons old. She also learns the woman’s name (or maybe title): The Ending of Things (will be calling her Ending for now).

Yikes!

Right around now the other girls come in and can see at the angle they’re looking at her at the woman in the mirror is Not Really A Person and Antiope points at her and reflexively casts a ranger sense spell to try and clock its weaknesses and stuff but Ending grabs the spell energy like a lasso and tries to drag her into the mirror. She does however find out that she’s stacked with hella resistances (total immunity to necrotic damage and non-maj weapons, resistance to most elemental damage, and more).

Sam briefly considers using Lightning Lure to pull Antiope back before deciding on a much less ouchy Counterspell. Unfortunately, it’s not strong enough and now she’s being pulled in by her spell energy too. Yelle casts Erupting Earth which has some pros and cons.

Pros: Antiope and Sam are saved! Yay!

Cons: The mirror breaks and whatever was in it is fully freed. Not yay!

Shortly after (but not before Penny gives everyone their new friendship bracelets), someone calls into the cave looking for them--it’s Fig’s mom, Sandra-Lynn (with new art)! She’s happy and impressed that everyone is OK (also, Katja and Sam both have little lines that foreshadow their ~parental issues~ for the season--Katja being very moved by the simple act of Sandra-Lynn showing up for them and Sam saying that in her experience moms can be very evil).

As they all leave the cave, they all do checks and get some info:

Ostentatia: The mirror was kinda like a palimpsest (the crystals they were trapped in) and whatever this thing is is ancient and powerful. 

Yelle: Gets the above info and the fact that when the thing left it wasn’t quite a bad vibe, just the vibe that something big and important is at play.

Penny: On an Arcana check she knows that what Danielle did 100% saved Antiope and Sam’s lives from whatever and wherever was on the either side of the mirror but the contact marked them in some way. 

Katja: With History she sees some Primordial writing which is the writing of elementals (one of the things Ending has resistances to which might be relevant; also Sam reads Primordial but doesn’t get to read what it says)

Antiope: She knows that she and Sam are connected to Ending now somehow but it’s a two way connection which means they can also use it to their advantage. 

Ostentatia casts Mending on the mirror shards which I think was to reconstruct the mirror but what it actually does is someone link their friendship bracelets. Cute!

And, with that, we cut to the present a year and a half later (which is Jr or Sr year for everyone). 

We hop from kid to kid as they get ready to head in to school and get glimpses into their homes lives! Let’s do a quick rundown for each girl:

Antiope Jones

We see that Antiope is the youngest of five in what is essentially a military family full of basically every kind of fighter (she says she basically lives in a “Crossfit box”). There’s an 8 year gap between her and her sister Corsica who is the second youngest so her parents are kind of already living like empty nesters. When she comes downstairs she is promptly handed a protein smoothie and told two pieces of info: (1) from Corsica she learns that she overheard at school --where she teaches--that Aguefort needs to talk to her for some reason but she won’t say why which annoys the crap out of Antiope and (2) her parents lined up an internship for her at the Ministry of Adventure. She and her mom verbally spar a bit about them being all up in her life and how stressed she is and how she likes what she has going now with the Seven but her mom wins ofc because she’s a Mom and also a master tactician with a deft hand for loving mom guilt. On the way to school her bros (who include a gunslinger and an eldritch knight cause they run the whole gamut of fighter classes) Facetime her like, “Yikes Ant, heard about what happened with Mom, this is why you don’t fight her lmao.”

Sam Nightingale

This is a heavy one so strap in. 

We check in with Sam who isn’t at her own family’s home but at Penelope’s family home which is off the bat eyebrow raising. It’s an upper middle class house and, on the way down, she has to pass Penelope’s bedroom which is conspicuously empty. Downstairs she’s greeted by Penelope’s human mom Rebecca who she learns is moving out soon because her elf husband is both cheating on her while away in Falinel and starting the divorce process. Sam clearly sees Penelope’s mom as a surrogate mom (for reasons we’ll learn in a second) and goes full ride or die assuring her that her ass is better than the ass of the woman he’s cheating with and offering to help burn his stuff even though drowning is more her specialty (she’s so cool). She also is a little stricken at the thought of Rebecca leaving her in the house alone but Rebecca says she can come with if she wants, she just didn’t want to disrupt her school life.

She also tells Rebecca that her bio-mom called recently which immediately sets Sam off. Through the convo we learn a couple of things:

Sam used to be an actor it seems.

And it seems like she was kicked out of the house after she transitioned or something similar which is why she lives with the Everpetals. 

Now that it’s more “fashionable” to to be trans (her mom’s words, not mine) she wants Sam to talk to her so they can get her back in the game.

Sam is having none of that and tells Rebecca to just delete her mom’s number. Then they have a cathartic session of burning her cheating husband’s shit before Sam leaves in Sebastian--her sentient, seafoam blue, self-driving car with a very hot male voice which I am extremely jealous of. She picks up Zelda on the way to school and they commiserate a little and have a heart to heart about adults and change and how much Zelda wants to body slam Sam’s mom. 

Penny Luckstone 

Penny’s house is a whirlwind of activity and her harried parents get her and her 19 young siblings ready for school (no wonder she’s such a good babysitter). We see where Penny gets her type-A ness from as her mom and dad both have this cheerful but overworked energy of “EVERYTHING IS FINE” like that Good Place sign. Her mom spares a second to tell her that she recently got a letter for The Society of Shadows which is like a super secret rogue college (which her parents assume is legit even though they haven’t heard of it cause they’re Mumple people and also, if you've heard of a rogue school, how good could it really be?) Penny is excited except that it would mean she’d have to move and leave her party. Her mom is like “hey it’s a full ride and there are 20 of you guys so just take that into consideration but it’s ultimately your decision” before she dashes away to get to work because it is always Go Go Go with the Luckstones. She texts Sam for a ride and Sam swings by to grab her. This is not plot relevant but she has a booster seat in the back of Sebastian with her name carved into it and it’s important to me that you know that. 

Katja Cleaver

Next up is Katja who lives in a Richie Rich style mansion and comes from very old money as she is descended from one of the first adventurers in Solace. She is in the barn with Cinnamon and the bugbear farrier they have employed (her name is Gertrude and a farrier is someone who does horseshoes). She eats the same breakfast as Cinnamon (hot dry oats and berries baybee) wo she loves so so dearly. Cinnamon is a magical horse--basically like a Find Steed spell that’s on all the time. She’s modeled the horse in her fave book series--the Babysitter’s Horse of course. Lockwood, the staff’s hobgoblin butler, is also there and they get a fantasy Zoom call from Katja’s dad who is in the middle of the insane 20th level adventurer stuff which he says might make him miss her graduation. She is extremely disappointed but just barely hides it from her dad (who seems to really care despite his not being around). She can’t hide it from the staff or Cinnamon however and Cinnamon offers to give her a ride to school via the scenic route. 

Note: We also learn two sad facts about Katja from the conversation with her dad.

Her mother is Disney Princess dead* and

She wears one half of a friendship necklace and it seems like she’s waiting for someone to give the other half to. It’s implied earlier that the way Penelope got her was by promising to be her best friend. Sad!

*Edit: Well, she’s gone and we’ll leave it at that until next recap. 

Ostentatia Wallace

Ostentatia wakes up and goes downstairs to have a very high energy in both directions interaction with her very fantasy-Italian mom and grandma. Her grandma is concerned her beard isn’t coming in--not knowing she shaves it on purpose which her mom is like, “Listen it’s fine but don’t tell grandma it’ll kill her.” She clocks very quickly that her dad isn’t there and his mithril working tools are gone. Her mom tries to play it off but she knows she’s being lied to and her mom relents. Her dad is at a meeting with the other workers of the shut down mithril factory and negotiations have ceased. It looks like he’s gonna be long term out of work. That explains where her dad is but not why the tools are missing. She decides to go do some investigating on her own and ambushes her dad in his car where, with the inaugural nat 20 of the season, she realizes he pawned his tools to get her 5 revivify diamonds. She's upset by this and he’s upset that she’s, in his eyes, questioning his ability to take care of his family. She’s like, alright, you did a thing for me, I’ll do a thing for you and she casts Animate Object to make his stuff steal itself back in a sequence that involves an animated crowbar using another crowbar which is just wild.

Danielle Barkstock

I’m gonna be real, Danielle’s life is exactly how you assume it is based on Who She Is As A Person so this one will be real short. Eco-friendly off the grid geodesic yurt. One super chill peace and love elf sorc mom and one rough and tough human ranger mom. She also knows and helps the Cubbies with their anarchist machinations because yeah, duh. She gets some messages from school on her crystal--one being a message from the principal saying that she and the rest of her party have first period off to meet with him and the other being a newsletter from the school showing, among other things, a photo of the Druid class doing a project but she’s not in it for some reason. She texts one of the other druids to see if she can figure out why she wasn’t invited but fully gets left on read. Brutal. Of course, she hasn’t messaged that person in 6-8 months so maybe that’s why.

Anyway, with that, all seven of our maidens make it to school and are all exuberant to see each other in a very teen girl way before getting to the principal’s office and learning that their party will be broken up at the year! 

Bad!

Superlatives 

I wanted to do something a little different for these recaps than the Bad Kid ones so instead of Honor Roll/Detention we are doing Superlatives and the inaugural one goes to...

Sam: Most Like To Survive a Horror Movie

Man she woke up chained in a ritual magic circle and she was Ready To Go Immediately. You will not catch this girl doing horror movie victim BS like exploring the spooky house or giving the creepy obvious ghost the time of day. She is hyper-competent and her goal is making it out alive and dragging her friends with her. Love her.  

Random Thoughts

The season immediately starts with a bang or I should say a bing with Izzy trying to say “bling bang” and accidentally saying, “bling bing” and immediately getting roasted by everyone. I love the authentic girl group vibes (which include everyone clowning on her then immediately hyping up Zelda to the max after being way more awkward). 

Handshake meme with Danielle and Moonshine from Naddpod. Also, Cinnamon and Horse from Centaurworld. 

I love that Rekha and Erika just straight up were like, “Our characters are Asian”. Like obviously, make your characters Asian coded in your fantasy world--all my D&D characters are black like me--but it’s funny that they completely disregarded the, “There’s no Asia in this world so I guess they’re this world’s equivalent to--” Nah just, “I’m a half-elf and I’m Asian.” You love to see it. 

I absolutely LOVE the choices the cast made to flesh out their characters based on the little info Brennan had about them, none moreso than rich horse girl Katja. Rekha is a genius. 

“I only want one thing and he’s working” KATJAAAAAAA

Man if I was in that flashback I would have been wilding out so much with my flashback plot armor. 

I appreciate that the first thing that Aabria has Antiope do is extremely uncool. I love it when players aren’t concerned about just being cool and on point all the time. Sometimes (read: often) that’s the less interesting choice. 

But on the exact opposite side, she’s a ranger and an arcane archer which I think is extremely cool. Lmao also I didn’t mention in the recap but she HATES dragons now which, understandable. I’m guessing they're her favored enemy. 

I can’t wait to see another group of kids interact w/ madman Aguefort. 

Also, as a known Aelwyn-stan, I am very excited for the possibility of the Seven interacting with her cause as much as I love her they are under no obligation to acknowledge her redemption arc and I would love to see them throw hands. 

I love the Greek myth naming scheme of Antiope’s extremely cool family as with her on the spot nickname “L-Cab” short for long caboose since she’s the youngest by a mile. 

Also this is out of character not in character but Sephie is an extremely cool nickname for Persephone. 

I wonder why Brennan didn’t let Sam read the Primordial in the cave. He just glossed right past her saying that she speaks it and she didn’t push it. Would it have solved his entire plot in the span of a flashback or was he just keeping things moving?

Sidenote, if I was married to an elf man and worried about aging like Rebecca, I would simply become a druid (or a monk or up my wizard levels so I could learn True Polymorph or Wish or something). 

I wonder what the deal with Ending is. She seemed relatively sincere in the mirror but that doesn’t mean anything. She could be sincere and also Very Bad News. 

There is an offhand comment by Brennan about how the dwarf forge god gives spells but doesn’t talk to his followers which I think means that Ostentatia is gonna be getting a direct god call soon enough. 

Also she mentions that her dad is doing some criminal activity on the side which seems like a Problem for later. Honestly all of the kids have some pretty rich parent drama happening which should be interesting to see explored. 

No nat 1s this ep and 1 nat 20 as I mention from Ostentatia. 

[sorryimanon]

Character: Katsuki Bakugou

Parings: Bakugou x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, characters are in their third year.

Word Count: 5.4K

The two honor students of UA so happen to be childhood enemies. During the succession that is exams, Y/N is determined to beat Bakugou.

-

Exam season has commenced on the campus of U.A. Students woke up in a frenzied state, slightly nervous to the late night studying they’ll endure for the weeks to come. Not enough caffeine can energize them to be in complete motivation mode. A couple of students have taken the leisure of paying those to exchange notes, considering most of the questions will be going over every little detail in each subject. The exams don’t begin till next week, but a few of the honor students have already hit the books, not once indulging in a break or two till the sun sets. One of those students just so happen to be you, an inspiring young hero with the hunger for being on top of everything. Ever since middle school, teachers would constantly praise you on your performance during tests. It was no surprise to anyone when you aced the entrance exam to U.A, a remarkable score leading you closer to reaching your dream. Although your scores on every test was superb, someone else would occasionally steal the spotlight with by topping your score. That person in particular has been tailing behind you ever since middle school, another honor student who also attends U.A as well. Did you mention he also is in the same hero course as you?

Katsuki Bakugou is his name. A name that burns the tip of your tongue whenever you gave roll call alongside Iida. The man is a ball of pure fury. He exuded nothing but anger and hostility whenever he’s in a room. Despite his aggressive exterior, Katsuki is an avid academic student who manages to score excellent grades in each of his classes. For the past 3 years of attending U.A, you two are considered the star studded scholars, never once failing a test, midterm, pop quiz , you name it! Now with your hero course almost coming to an end, you were determined to at least score the highest result this exam season, leaving Bakugou in the dust with his inadequate score. Maybe have him crying in the corner would suffice the drawn out rivalry you two established. No one verbally said it was an all out war between you two, but everytime those test results are posted on the board, everyone steered clear for the both of you to silently react. Everyone awaits for the day when one of you finally snaps and start clawing at each other. But alas, only the mere exchange of a side eye and a curt nod. Deep down you do want to slap the smirk that always resides on his face during those moments, showing him you weren’t just going to let him win by smarts.

That’s why now you sit alone on the cushioned couch in the commons area, books sprawled around you like a protective barrier. You had your eyes glued to a textbook about the history of quirks and their physiology, a class in which you needed to spend studying the most for. It’s been a a few hours into your little study session, and you were beginning to feel the drag of how much you needed to actually work on. All this including your current homework and your mandatory internship studies at an agency. It was all too much to handle. So, maybe you do deserve a break.

Pushing the book aside, you stretched out your cramped up arms and sigh in relief. In the corner of your eye you spot a familiar head of ashy blonde walking into the commons room, books and notebooks crammed into his armpit while holding what seems to be an energy drink. Your eye twitched watching him plop down onto the couch across from you, never once paying attention to your presence. Katsuki then rests his bare feet on the wooden coffee table, opening one of his textbooks with the swipe of his thump. For some odd reason, this really riled you up. And it was clear Katsuki noticed too.

“Am I bothering you? Hm?” He smugly asked, eyes not wavering from the text before him.

You scoffed.

“No. Just, don’t speak while I’m trying to study okay?”

He clicked his tongue at you.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re studying to me. Looks like you’ve given up already. What gives?”

His comment made you even angrier.

“Given up? Kacchan, you’ve barely started.”

Looking up, you can see a faint vein forming against the temple of his forehead. His fists clenched tightly, crumpling the sides of the textbook. His eyes now were averted to yours. The crimson death glare, you’d call it.

“I was training with Kirishima, dumbass. So of course I couldn’t hop onto my studies earlier,” he started. Katsuki opens his energy drink with one finger, the pop of the air leaving the can satisfying to your ears, and took a swing of it. “Also, don’t ever fucking call me that. If I hear it from your mouth again I won’t hesitate to use my quirk on you.”

An intriguing idea. Usually you’d be the one to threaten your enemy, but Katsuki like always beat you to the punch.

“No thanks, I’d rather be harassed by grape juice than be blasted from the likes of you,” the taunt in your voice triggered something within Katsuki, causing him to tense up in pure anger. “Besides, I’m planning on studying all day till my eyes fall out. So don’t expect me to leave this spot.”

His smirk was soon on full display, uncrossing his legs to lean forward so he can rest his elbow on his knee.

“Oh really? Just so you know we have an early training tomorrow in preparation for our final exam. Wouldn’t want ya to, cha know, fail?” He didn’t even sound slightly concern for yourself and your future study habits, you can tell he wishes for you to fuck up your sleeping schedule to miss the important training in the morning.

“I have an alarm set on my phone so I don’t miss my beauty rest. Wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity of kicking your ass tomorrow,” you held your mobile device triumphantly, waving it back and forth to mock him.

With the roll of his eyes, Katsuki returned back to his studies, leaving you to sadly resume as well. Before he entered the commons area, you were about to head into your dorm room to take a nap, but now you were obligated to stay put without letting him think you’re already burnt out.

Silently, you both continued on with the unspoken competition.

-

Evening struck quicker than you expected, cascading the soft glow of the painted sky through the windows, illuminating both you Katsuki in a pink hue. Thankfully, Katsuki took your words into consideration and never spoke to you during the session, giving you an easy feeling of relaxation without him making it another competition.

Already you finished your notes for advance foreign language, quirk physiology, and mathematics. So far, you were ahead of everyone else, with the exception of Katsuki. Occasionally, you’d catch yourself glancing over at him working intensively in his small corner, highlighting and jotting down every minuscule detail in his notebook. This was your first time witnessing how Katsuki studies. To your disappointment, his regime was nothing out of the ordinary. Then how the fuck does he manage to score high grades? It simply baffled you.

A stampede of footsteps was to be heard coming from the hallway leading to the commons area. After what seems to be years, you cranked your head away from your notebook to see Kirishima and the rest of the gang marching towards the direction of both you and Katsuki, who was currently shooting daggers at the group of friends. The red head was the first to speak out of the four of them.

“Aye Bakubro! Wanna skip the studying for a little and eat with us at NoodleShop?” His smile gleamed brightly, showcasing his shark incisors.

“Y/N you too! Come join us. I’ll pay!” Mina chimed in.

Noodles sounded pretty appetizing right about now. You skipped out on lunch, too engrossed on the idea of getting a head start for the exams. Now you regret the decision of leaving your stomach on empty.

But you still had so much left to do. And knowing Katsuki’s competitive nature, he wasn’t going to move an inch from his spot.

“It’s okay Mina, I uh- already ate a big meal awhile ago,” you dismissed her, patting your belly to show you were indeed, full.

As if on cue, a loud growl erupted from the depths of your stomach, the noise reverberating across the soundless space. Denki and Sero both snickered.

To your amazement, Katsuki got up from the couch and trailed over to the group, slipping on his red hoodie that was draped on the arm rest. He took a quick glimpse at you and smirked over his shoulder.

“Watch my things for me will ya, extra?” And with that they all left the area as a group.

You huffed in defeat and stared back at your jumbled pile of notes, the writing transcending from neat to sloppy text. At least you don’t have an explosive blonde sharing the same air as you for now. You reached into your bag and grabbed another textbook, this one being more heftier than the others.

“Oh well, more time for studying...” you said to yourself as you skimmed through the pages of Hero First Aid: Volume 6.

-

The beautiful spring sky soon was replaced by the expanse of darkness, the twinkle of the bright stars catching your eyes. The moon alone helped cast a sheen of light, allowing you to work in the dimly lit up space. Bakugou didn’t return to retrieve his stuff, all of which were sat untouched in a hasty mess. You figure him and the rest of the gang would have been back on campus by now, but everyone in class 1-A have locked themselves in their dorms since lights out will commence in a few. Aizawa has yet to prohibit you from staying past the curfew. As long as you don’t go running among the halls like a lunatic and stay strictly to studying, he’s all game. And that’s exactly what you did.

A couple of students murmured as they passed by you, saying things like “Does she ever have a life” or “All she does is study...no wonder no one has asked her out yet”. As much as the comments sting, you knew they weren’t true to your heart. Last year, someone in class 2-B formally asked you to the dance. To their dismay, you rejected them on the spot. Only because you didn’t have time to date or talk romantically with anyone. It’s a distraction to both your education and future career.

Okay, so maybe they were partially correct. At least you had your first kiss before entering U.A? But the person who stole your kiss was obligated to do so, after being dared by their fellow acquaintances. Nothing more beyond that have you explored with another person.

Submerged in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice the presence of the angry blonde, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie as he strolled to the couch that had all his materials. He began to gather his things when suddenly he freezes, remembering what you said about not moving an inch from your spot. He’s astonished to see you cemented on the same couch, in the same position, notes blanketing your thighs along with the pile books pooling at the edge.

You really are determined to beat him, he thought. Bakugou can’t deny he’s impressed with your ambition and drive to be the best among your peers, even if that means sacrificing basic human needs. Like food and sleep.

Although, looking at you right now in this state, with your eyes threatening to close shut, mouth slightly agape, and hair bunched up in a tight knot, it’s clear you were exhausted. He spoke without realizing it.

“Hey dumbass! The fuck you still doing here, huh? It’s almost lights out.”

His brooding voice startled you awake, causing the papers on your lap to spill on the carpeted floor. Bakugou coughed out a low chuckle, amused by how the mere sound of his voice scares you.

“Oh it’s just you,” you said, disregarding how that could easily irritate him.

“Yeah, it’s me. Anyway you should be getting rest. You’re smart enough to know that, idiot.”

Even though it was a subtle backhanded compliment, you couldn’t help but to appreciate him acknowledging your intellect.

“I can’t. I have to go over my flash cards for mathematics and then finish this week’s homework for tomorrow—.”

“Holy fucking shit shut up. Don’t you realize what you’re doing to yourself right now?” When you didn’t answer, Bakugou slapped his forehead. “You’re gonna burn yourself out dumbass! Then you won’t have any motivation left to study for when the exams are actually starting.”

Stunned, you watch as Bakugou stomps over to where you’re sitting at, crimson eyes never leaving yours. He then props his leg on the cushion next to your trembling thighs, out stretching his arm to grab ahold of something. Too focused on the proximity between you two, it didn’t register that he swiped your flash cards from your hands. What is wrong with him? Does he want to sabotage you this badly before exams?

“Bakugou! Give those back! I need them for my exam on Monday!” you ignored how whiny you sounded, not wanting to give Katsuki the satisfaction he thinks he deserves.

“You really think whining like a bitch will make me hand these over? Think again, dumb-.”

You cut him off with a surprise attack, shoving his entire body to the ground with the force of yours. Bakugou’s arms were pinned above him as you tried to pry the flash cards from his death grip on them. Stubbornly, he wiggles his body to keep you from reaching his arms, almost knocking you off his torso like a bull. Looking down, both of you were in a compromising position. Straddling his hips while he laid lifelessly underneath you, panting like a feral dog. You tried to keep the heat from spreading throughout your body as you felt his groin rub against your sex, but failed tremendously when he can obviously see the prominent blush creeping on your cheeks.

“What the fuck was that all about?! Why are you so adamant about beating me so much!” He yelled directly in your face.

A question that neither of you knew the answer to. Why were you so determined to destroy Bakugou? Shouldn’t a fellow honor student be happy that another is also making their education a main priority? Or maybe there is another underlying reason, something deeper under the dermis of your skin that you couldn’t quite reach.

You further the distance away from his face by leaning backwards, eventually hitting the front of his thighs and kneecaps.

“You don’t understand. I have to be good at everything. I need this in order to be the hero I’ve been wanting to be. Even if that means neglecting my own needs...” you paused, unsure if Bakugou was even listening anymore. “That is, until you came along and ruined everything.”

“Hah?!” His reaction was incredulous.

“Don’t “Hah” me! It’s been your plan all along since middle school to top me at everything. So why me?!”

“Well maybe it’s because I’ve always looked up to you dumbass! Have you ever considered that!”

The words tumbled out of his throat as if he’s been holding off on the sentiment. Bakugou Katsuki, the abrasive yet studious boy, just so happens to admire you? Never it occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, you also strived to be the absolute best solely because of him. The way he strides into a battle with confidence, not an ounce of doubt that he’ll lose. His diabolical strategies that somehow works out in the end. Or the way how underneath that rough exterior, he believes he’ll be the one left climbing to the top, along with his peers. It’s his sticky pride that kept the rivalry between you two so alive. But was it really a rivalry after all this time?

Eyes widen at the confession, you stay frozen on his lap, fingers bunching up the top half of his hoodie. The silence broke Katsuki. For once, he wanted you to at least admit it, that you were also in the same boat as he is right now. So, he hesitantly reaches out and rests his palm against your flushed face, basking in at your sudden reaction to him touching you.

“Why does everything have to be a competition between us?” His soft spoken voice was uncharacteristic for him, you were so used to his gravelly tone after years of being the victim to it.

You felt the traces of his warm finger tips tickling lines on your outer cheek, as if he’s done this before.

“Isn’t that our dynamic? Competitive enemies?” The comment made him quirk an eyebrow at you.

“Enemies? You were never one in my eyes in the first place...” He trailed off, getting distracted by how close you’ve gotten to his face. To his lips.

“Then, what am I to you?” you leaned in closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of something in his eyes. You took notice that his pupils were dilated, making his eyes darker than usual. The hand rubbing lines on your cheek snaked around behind your head, taking full comfort on the base of your neck. The feeling was quite foreign to you. How long you yearned till days on end for someone to touch you tenderly like this. Especially from someone like Katsuki Bakugou.

“Does this answer your question.” Was all he said before smashing his lips to mount yours, the sudden contact making you shiver in his arms.

You felt him breathe out in surprise against your mouth when you took the initiative by swiping your tongue on his bottom lip. The kiss was exquisitely slow and intense. So intense that Bakugou forgot where he even was at the moment, too engulfed at the texture of your tongue asking for entrance. The fingers digging into the back of your neck started to hurt, but you didn’t mind the pain, the pleasure overwhelming all your senses. You can hear the harsh undertones of his breathing every time you slightly moved the lower half of your body.

“Stop moving, idiot,” he said breathlessly.

He knew he was fucked by seeing the smirk forming on your lips.

“Oh, you mean like this?” You then grind your hips in a harsh motion, relishing in the bashful look on Katsuki’s face.

He let his hands go freely, attaching themselves on both sides of your hips, grounding you to stop altogether. He sat in an upright position, encasing you between his legs and hard chest, your legs wrapping around his torso. Any other time it’d be comforting, but right now you felt like a bird trapped in a cage.

“Who knew the good girl would be so disobedient? Kind of hot not gonna lie.” He bent his head to where it was directly hovering over the sensitive spot on your collarbone. “Even when we’re just making out, you have to make everything a goddamn competition huh?”

A gasp left your throat once his tongue licked a clean strip on the surface. He chuckled, loving the feeling of you squirming in his muscular arms and continued the attack on your skin. His feather-like kisses switched to full on feverish sucking and biting. He proceeded to suck on the area, letting go with a definite ‘pop’, then returned back by making out on the bruised skin.

The combination of his tongue, the death grip on your hip, and the bulge protruding from his loose sweatpants was too much stimulation already. Before you knew it, Katsuki abruptly stood up from the floor, along with you, and placed you back on the plush couch. Your legs were wide open, giving him a good view of your white panties beneath the school skirt. You clamped your legs together after seeing the blonde lick his lips at the sight.

“D-Don’t be such a pervert,” you squeaked out.

That didn’t stop him from slipping his hand in between the crack of your legs, spreading them wider than before.

“Stop lying to yourself. You’ve imagined me between these thighs haven’t you?” The silence following his question was enough to suffice him. “Such a naughty girl.” Those crimson eyes stared straight ahead as he tugged your panties down a notch.

Here?! Right now? Why couldn’t he reside both of you in his dorm? It was literally at the end of the hallway. Plus, the thought of your teacher, Aizawa, catching you would be mortifying.

Your hand quickly latched itself around Katsuki’s forearm, halting him from proceeding his lustrous actions.

“What are you doing?! We could get caught you idiot!”

Katsuki grins and says, “You’re right. We need to find a way to shut you up.” Without preamble, he practically ripped the thin panties with sheer ferocity, causing you to yelp. You were about to scold him for ruining your favorite pair when said panties got shoved into your open mouth. “Remember, don’t want to get us caught right? Now be the good girl like you are and stay quiet for me.” Obediently you nodded at his order and prayed that whatever he’s going to do to you won’t be too much.

Katsuki hummed, obviously pleased at how well you’re going along with this. He wonders how far you’ll go till you break. With the swipe of his tongue, Katsuki dragged it up and down on the opening of your drenched sex. You mewled at the new sensation, legs already trembling as he his own salvia covered your folds. He bit and nibbled on the sweet spot, the clit, and lapped a few lazy strokes with his pointer finger in circular motions. Before you could stop him, he inserted the lubricant finger into your hole slowly, pumping it a couple of times to get you loosened up. Muffled moans perked up the ears of Katsuki. Looking up, he saw the beautiful sight of your eyes rolled behind your head along with the familiar tint of red on your cheeks. Just like the secretive slut you truly are, you swayed your hips to create more friction. Katsuki acknowledged your needy movements and dipped his head between your legs again, returning back to kissing your sex open mouthed. The lewd noises of him sucking on your wetness elicited a long drawn out moan from you, making Katsuki’s own cock twitch at the glorious sound.

“You’re so fucking cute like this. Almost coming from just my tongue and fingers. Fucking slut,” he said between suctions. “God, what were we thinking...we could’ve just resolved our issues like this every time.”

You grabbed a handful of his spiked up hair and raised his head away from your lower region. While doing so, you spit out the soaked clothed panty from your mouth, letting it drift off to the floor.

“Just s-shut up and do something about m-me,” you manage to croak out. You flicked your eyes on Katsuki and to the hand buried inside your skirt.

“Ah, want more than just my fingers? Could’ve just said so. Why are you being so quiet with your needy demands, babe?”

This newfound nickname plucked a heart sting within you. You shook off his snarky comment and stood up from the couch. If it’s a competition he wants, then it’s a competition he’ll get.

“Take off your pants and sit on the couch.”

Craning his head back, his own roar of a laughter bounced across the quiet room. Laughter dying down, his expression changed seeing how serious you actually were.

“Tch. Whatever you say dumbass. Don’t want you to explode on me now.”

He did as you said and removed the article of clothing, leaving him in nothing but his red boxer briefs. The bulge grew bigger the longer you stared at it. He laid back on the plush cushion and rested his arms behind his head.

“Alright, I’m waiting Y/N,” he taunted you.

One by one, you unbutton your school uniform and let it fall off your shoulders, along with your plaid skirt pooling at your ankles. Arms crossed on your chest you tower over Katsuki, who was surprisingly not staring at your goods, but your eyes. Beckoning you forward with his glare, you straddle him immediately, hands resting on his broad shoulders.

My, all these years of being in the same class and never once did you take advantage of appreciating how chiseled he looked in his hero costume. Sometimes you’d glance his way or pretend to be busy, but really, you wanted to see him in action. The way how his muscles would contract with each swing or punch. It was enough to make a girl swoon. Now you were swooning for sure. On his lap to be precise.

“Oi, you gonna do something nerd? My cock isn’t going to finish off itself.” His voice snapped you back to reality.

It took a few minutes, but you were finally hovering over the tip of his throbbing member, the glistening of his pre-cum coating your fingers. You teased him by rubbing just the tip against your entrance, lubricating the member even more. He tried to muffle his whines, but failed tremendously after feeling his tip graze your sex. Both of you were heavily now, anticipation radiating off of your sweaty bodies. Tenderly, you kissed him open mouth while sheathing yourself on his cock.

“Holy shit, holy fuck fuck fuck,” the vulgar words spilled from his mouth against yours as you bottomed out. You stayed in that position. Still unsure what to do and what you got yourself into. Pretty sure you’re torturing Katsuki by the minute.

“F-Fucking move," He growled in your ear.

Leaning in closer you whisper, “You have to beg for it then.” You nibbled the loose skin on the bottom of his ear and tugged it gently.

“Hell no! God-fucking-damnit don’t make this a competition right now Y/N.” The palm of his abnormally large hand pushed your face away from his. You giggled.

“C’mon Bakugou, there’s no harm in it. Just say please?”

“Fuck you shitty woman...”

“That’s not begging,” you pouted.

He pursed his lips. Bakugou admittedly is getting more turned on by the minute, and not just because you were practically inside him.

“P-Please fucking move. I w-want you to fuck me so bad you have no idea. Please Y/N...”

Smiling, you raised your hips to where the veins on the side of his member scraped the walls within you. It made your cunt twitch in pure ecstasy. Slowly, you lowered yourself back down, only this time you weren’t stagnant. You repeated the same vertical movements, clashing your hips with his. Bakugou titled his head back on the couch, degrading sentiments leaving his mouth as his hands grasped the sweaty flesh of your ass, squeezing it harshly every time you bounced on his dick. The tip of his member taking your breath away as it prodded the spongy walls.

“Yes- oh fuck yes. Ngh, keep doing that. Yeah like that. Hah-fuck, don’t stop,” he said between the constant panting.

Due to your rapid bouncing, your boobs were flailing in the air, occasionally hitting Bakugou in the face. Katsuki took matters into his own hands and latched his mouth around one of your perked nipples. You squealed at the sudden sensation.

“B-Bakugou...don’t do that...it’ll make me come faster,” you moaned as he grazed his teeth on your taut nipple.

For revenge, he tugged back the areola till it reached a few centimeters from your chest. Painful yes, but you couldn’t deny it felt amazing. He quickly let go and returned to sucking on the tit, lathering it up with his own spit. All the while you were riding him till the muscles and tendons in your legs gave out. Steadying your hands on his shoulders, you grounded on your knees to give yourself a better leverage. Feeling touch starved, Bakugou shoved your hands from his shoulders and laced his fingers between them. Like a missing puzzle piece, you fit in perfectly with him. Everything about you was perfection. You defined it. Sitting here watching as you take him well, physically or not, he was completely enamored by the mere sight of you. He craned his head to brush just the tip of your nose. A nose he unmistakably mentally captured because he loved the feature so much.

Although, he couldn’t think straight after that once you bottomed out again and rolled your hips in tune to his panting. You made a mess out of the aggressive blonde. Each time you swayed your body to the side he’d grunt out a low moan, trying to contain his usual loud profanities from waking up your classmates. Bakugou reached down and teasingly rubbed the sensitive bud, getting revenge for all the times you’ve pissed him off. Under your breath, you moaned out his last name.

“Say my name,” he grunted, hands continuing to expertly work on you from below.

Confused, you obeyed and moaned, “Bakugou!”

Suddenly, a painful sting sparked throughout your lower back. Eyes glued shut due to the searing pain, you whimper feeling a calloused hand smooth over the spot on your ass.

Katsuki spanked you. And you liked it.

“My actual name, dumbass. I wanna hear it coming from your mouth.”

With a thrust, you continue moving up and down on his cock, never once missing a beat.

“K-...Katsuki. Katsuki-Katsuki...” his name sounded ethereal, as if he was a higher being.

Katsuki returned the favor and fisted your hair in a tight knot, your scalp screaming at how harsh he was pulling.

“That’s a good girl.”

With a playful slap to your behind, Katsuki roughly shoves you to mount his lips again. Lips parted, both of your tongues twisted against each other, sharing a decent amount of saliva. He slipped out and pecked your lips a few times before biting down on your bottom lip. It didn’t hurt like all the times he inflicted pain on you previously. But this time you swore you felt the trickle of blood trailing down to your chin. The coppery taste infiltrating your taste buds only increased your arousal. What a masochist.

Bakugou noticed the pacing of your movements decreasing, indicating you are already feeling worn out, and steadied his hands onto your hips.

“Just let me do the work here, dumbass,” he said as he thrusted sharply into your womb, causing you to whimper into his neck. “I’ll take good care of you. You deserve a break from studying after all.”

-

You woke up feeling dizzy and fatigued, body aching from your toes to your head. From what you can remember, you were in the middle of studying when...

Katsuki happened.

Then you realized you weren’t in the commons area anymore. Somehow, you were laying in a medium sized bed, covers strewn over your naked body, along with a muscular arm draped across your torso. To your side you can see a passed out Katsuki snoring quietly into his pillow. Even when he’s asleep, he still looks angry.

Jolting upright, you carefully pry his arm from your body. No prevail. He’s got a strong hold on you.

He shuffled in his sleep and tightened his grip around you.

“Mmm...not leaving...stay a little longer,” he mumbled.

You rolled your eyes. “We both can’t walk out of your dorm in the morning. People will get suspicious of us. Not to mention Aizawa,” you retorted back.

“Oh? Don’t like the idea of ‘us’ huh? That’s not what you said last night.”

You didn’t need to look to know he was wearing his infamous shit eating smirk.

“Shut up.”

For the first time you heard Katsuki genuinely laugh without forcing it. You looked over and saw his eyes wide open now, staring at nothing but you.

“Whatever, you love me Y/N.”

“I DO NOT!”

Grabbing your face with his rough hands, he pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

“Go to fucking sleep nerd, we have a pre-exam in a few hours.”

-

(You can obviously tell I got lazy at the end LMFAO. This has been in my drafts for a LONG time. Also, this isn’t edited so please excuse the horrendous text that is this post. Xoxo)

[mannien]

Mornings in Sheffield Park | TH - CHAPTER 1

The one with stress, takeout food around the world, late night walks, and Disney dreams.

Word count: 6.6k 

Warnings: some stress, some anxiety, mention of sex, and a lot of smiles

Masterlist

Fourth week into the morning pitch meetings at BBC, Millie felt lifeless and drained. The room was usually exploding with ideas, creative energy, and a lot of constructive feedback to the few interns who were allowed to join the conversation with editors, writers, and producers. That morning had started ugly enough for her: with an overwhelming number of e-mails about the schedule and missing content for Politics Live.

When she first landed her spot at BBC, Millie was over the moon. She was constantly calling it a dream come true, a once in a lifetime opportunity for her to begin a writing career in media. Her degree seemed to be the best choice for her future and Millie was ready to prove that graduating from humanities can actually land her a decent job. Her first days were filled with morning preparations, early commute to the city centre and exceptionally smoothed out shirts. The work environment in such a fast-paced industry felt inspiring and daunting at the same time, but Millie felt obligated to use this experience to its full potential. Each day she attempted to learn more than the day before and possibly show off a tiny bit more of her creative skills to her superiors. She spent her evenings researching topics and people, trying not to fall out of the loop. Being one step forward was hard work, one that Millie desperately wanted to ace.

The second week of her internship brought a slight shift to her agenda. After grasping the general concepts of working for a major radio and TV broadcasting company, she was aware of the production processes. She tried to happily follow up all the details about the work of a writer, a researcher, or an editor – just so she could be prepared for the follow-up of the introductory week. And as she hoped her interview was remembered and she would soon contribute to any program touching upon music or pop culture, her dreams and calls were slowly fading away. The intern manager ascribed her to the team devoted strictly to politics and daily news, having no vacancies for the popular radio programs. Even though she took whatever spot was offered, it was only to get more insight and experience.  

Having already managed to speak up a few times during the morning routines in the conference room, Millie eased herself into the work environment and was treated like a regular employee. But the first wave of success quickly passed, especially when she was hit with growing emptiness in her brain. She did not enjoy politics, so as far as she could, she attempted to sneak in a sociological aspect into the context. But her tactic had an expiration date.

A couple of heads were expectantly turned at Millie when she was unsurely stuttering her weak ideas for the upcoming programme. She knew it wasn’t going well and she was mentally cursing herself for trying to impress the producers that much so early on.

“This isn’t gonna work. We’ve covered this enough in the evening news. Let’s take five, and maybe you’ll come up with a different angle. I’ll give you another shot here.”

Hugh, the head writer took off his glasses and watched her fidget in her seat. She nodded and took a deep breath, before leaving the room for a short break. Her mind was racing in panic; she wasn’t ready to admit that she didn’t have any idea. She walked back and forth through the corridor until she cursed quietly and walked away to the main hall. She pulled her phone from the back pocket and without overthinking this anymore, she called her boyfriend. He picked up after the third ring.

“Babe, can I call you back…”

“No, Frank,” She felt determined and fierce. Her hands shook from the pure view on board members slowly coming back from the kitchen with fresh coffee mugs. They were probably waiting to hear her another take on the TV show which Millie, wholeheartedly, was beginning to hate. “My work on the programme is too basic and I’ve been roasted for the past fifteen minutes or so. Hugh has me in the spotlight in front of everyone. Help me, please?”

“It’s not your fault they’ve given you a job you’re not good at, babe. It’s just an internship, they will roast you anyway.”

Millie’s lungs were ready to stop working and suffocate her. She feared she might start hyperventilating, or at least meet up with a panic attack from the nerves. Franklin’s reaction seemed to be absolutely unfair and inconsiderate of her actual feelings, and he must have felt that through the piercing silence on the line.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t worry so much about it. They will probably just give you another placement where you’ll fit more, I don’t see why it’s such a bad thing.” And just like that, she started doubting herself and her right to overthink her situation. It didn’t sit well with Millie and she could feel anger slowly making its way through her veins.

“Can’t you just fucking help me? This one time?” She lost her temper, she lost her patience. At the same time Riley, one of the end writers, started waving at her from the end of the hall as to show her that her time is coming to an end. “I need a hook, or something that would spark a debate. Brexit-themed, maybe. Can you think of anything?”

Frank groaned loudly. He wasn’t exactly happy that she made him break down his ambitious wall and let her in on topics he was too invested in. Millie could hear him moving around as he left his desk of the equally large office of The Guardian, until the line went surprisingly quiet. Her anger and fear made her clutch her phone tightly to her ear, while her legs started carrying her slowly to the terrifying conference room.

“Think internationally. See what the Spanish had to say about May’s resignation from the Office. Think economics in the EU. Try to stand on the Union’s side and do some fair judgement.”

“Give me facts, not ideas. You’re the one who knows politics.”

“Spanish government says that May’s resignation is bad news. Compare it to the popular opinion that she was the worst Prime Minister since the 18th century and the American war on independence.” Millie breathed in, trying to desperately grasp all the details he just provided her with.

“That’s a… harsh and history-digging argument,” She mumbled in surprise, “where did you get that from?” She grabbed a yellow post-it note from the reception desk and quickly scribbled the key words on it. Her briefing on politics was never something like this and she could feel the embarrassment making its way into her heart. It wasn’t her way of thinking and she felt like a fraud.

“I can’t tell you that.” By the end of the single sentence Millie could feel the blood escaping her face, making her look pale and scared for dear life. She didn’t want to have heard that sentence, she was definitely happier not knowing how did he come up with a story like this. That was one of the many reasons she tried not to talk business with him.

“An opinion entry. A column for The Guardian. Shit, you just busted one of your colleagues.”

“Sometimes I hate it that you’re smart. Did I ever tell you that?”

“You just saved my internship!”

“Please don’t say that. I will pretend that we just talked about the weather.”          

“I’ll spend them the details. You’re the best, Frank.”

“Alright, go kick ass.”

And that she did. Franklin did save her internship, mainly because Millie avoided the specifics about who and why said something so harsh about the resigning Prime Minister. However, it definitely did spark interest among the production board. Afraid of not being so lucky next time, she decided to politely suggest a replacement for her permanent internship division within BBC, due to her ‘personal discomfort with discussions over issues of such importance and potential shame to their glorious country.’

Millie felt bad for using her boyfriend’s knowledge for survival at work. She wasn’t genuine and her idea didn’t come from her hard work - it was sourced in fear and anxiety-driven reactions. This situation proved to her that she wasn’t fit for the position, but it also raised her stress levels around the fact that she couldn’t get by on her own in the industry. She didn’t want others to navigate her through it all, but the conversation she had with Frank had also made her uncomfortable. Her need of support in a stressful situation was primarily turned down, so—naturally to her character—she started to worry even more.

With a heavy heart and two bags of Wagamama takeout, she walked up the stairs to his apartment. She was usually working until later hours than Frank, so all she really needed was for him to open the door for her. She leaned on the doorframe as she waited patiently for the two turns of the lock. He opened still in his work attire – tailored jeans and a light grey button up shirt. He was holding his phone next to his ear and humming approvingly to the speaker when he looked her up and down. He winked at her and let her in, as he continued to talk with someone.

Inside, Millie found the TV turned on with a football game playing. His work jacket was still hanging on the back of the tall stool in the kitchen, and the grocery bags laid unpacked on the table. She took off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen, where she made a little room for their food on the countertop. Pulling off her sweater, she peeked into the shopping bags – she wasn’t surprised to find a couple bottles of beer and food essentials, a multipack of tissues and a large box of condoms.

“What’s all this, babe?” Franklin came up to her and briefly kissed her on the lips, before looking into the boxes with deliciously smelling food.

“I just thought it might be nice to eat some goodies,” She smiled, trying to sniff out his mood first. He smiled back at her with approval and reached for the plates in the cupboard, so she continued, “also, it’s a ‘thank you for being my saviour today,’ kinda thing.”

“Ah, yeah. I bet everyone on my floor will hate BBC’s guts for that.” Frank said it so casually, with a shrug to follow up, that Millie struggled to understand the dynamic he had at The Guardian. He seemed to be a great fit for his team, because a week into his new job, he was already invited for Friday drinks and talked about his co-workers just like anyone would about their long-time friends. She couldn’t understand how was he getting so lucky at any step, but the last thing she wanted to do is doubt him. Any time worries and competitiveness clouded her brain, Millie was making extra room for compassion and support.

Frank unloaded some of the curry on his plate and started eating with a fork, and then made his way to the living room where he spread out on the sofa. He didn’t say anything else, somewhat scaring Millie that he will let her know he’s uncomfortable randomly, on a promisingly good day. Trying to figure out her brain, she followed his actions and took some extra food to the coffee table, before sitting down next to him.

“But you’re not gonna get into trouble for that, are you?” she was biting the inside of her cheek hard, definitely not used to not being judged for using someone else’s help.

“Nah, I don’t think so. They don’t know I’ve got a girl at BBC, so I should be just fine.”

Millie ate her curry in silence, suddenly at loss of words driven by his surprising statement. She didn’t want to raise an argument or seem overly sensitive. But for some reason she hoped that he would talk about her at work, especially considering his already formed strong bonds in the office, and a definitely higher success rate in his position. Ever so charming Franklin, he always glowed among people. She couldn’t really fight with this, so she just kept any comments to herself and focused on her food.

Frank switched the channel to the evening news and pulled her to his side once they were done eating. It comforted Millie to know that at the end of the day, they could both enjoy each other’s company, no matter what was happening at work. She didn’t pay much attention to the news, but rather focused on the way he reacted to it and what he enjoyed. She felt too tired to get invested in another load of politics, so she just soaked in his warmth and curled more into his side. He smelled of coffee and heavy, musky cologne that he liked to reapply frequently. Millie closed her eyes and breathed out the stress that weighed her down after a long day, finally finding peace.

“I’ll go grab a beer, you want one?” he abruptly stood up, making her slightly loose her balance and lean back towards the pillows. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips in a thin line.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure? You’re awfully quiet today.” He spoke already from the kitchen, not even catching a glimpse of her pursed lips.

“I just need to wind down. It’s been stressful day.” She pushed a little smile on her cheeks as he came back with a frown. He took a few large sips of his drink and put it on the table, before lowering himself on the couch and leaning over Millie.

“I can help you relax, if you want.” He raised an eyebrow in a flirtatious manner, leaning into her and leaving a series of delicate kisses on her lips. He then moved onto her jaw and sucked on her skin, but never left a mark. Slowly massaging her waist, he slid his hand under her shirt and sprawled his fingers across her hip to pull her closer.

Millie enjoyed the warmth that started to spread through her body, but she couldn’t find any energy to give some of it back. She felt drained and exhausted, so a mere thought about participating in sexual activities was sure to make her at least slightly uncomfortable. Unless Frank was willing to change something about it.

“Okay, hold on,” her chuckle and a light push at his chest made him narrow his eyebrows in confusion, “I don’t think I’ve got enough energy today, Frankie.” Her whisper was followed by a reassuring smile. She weaved her fingers through his short hair and kissed the tip of his nose.

“What if I provide you with some energy first?”

“What, you’ll give me an energy drink?” She laughed at her poor joke and he chuckled, too, but more at her silliness than anything else. He laid her down comfortably and cautiously peppered her with kisses on her neck and the tiny bit of cleavage that was available without unbuttoning her shirt. She was slowly giving in, allowing him to get lower on her body and touch her. Frank either wanted to make her feel better, or was really horny. But whatever the case was, she didn’t want to stop him and ruin his enthusiasm. The glow in his eyes and admiration painted across his face were too intoxicating to back away. His touch was filled with sparks of emotions and a kind of drive that Millie was addicted to. She felt wanted and needed, and that’s what made her return the heated kisses despite her hooded, weary eyes.

They walked hand in hand through the chilly evening, sometime after she persuaded Frank to walk her to the nearest tube station. The wind was slightly tickling her neck, but other than that she felt at peace. She let her hair down, flowing gently with each blow of the air and lightly caressing her face like a safety blanket. They swayed their hands until they had to make room for a group of people passing by.

“Jane texted me about a little get together this Friday,” She mumbled into the night, trying not to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere around them.

“Ah, yeah. Aaron told me about it, too. I guess we’re going, right?”

“Yeah, it might be nice. The girls mentioned this new club near their apartment? I think that’s where they wanted to go.”

“Cool. I could use a little break.”

As they continued their walk, Millie mostly focused on leading the way through tight London streets. Franklin’s parents rented him an apartment in the city centre, close to everything you could dream of in London. It also meant crowded streets at any hour, so to have a nice walk around the neighbourhood usually requested it to be late at night. But it didn’t matter to him, as long as he had a short commute to the office and all other things that life requested from him, within reach. There were times when he would mention coming back to Manchester and supporting his parents at their law firm, but Millie saw how much he preferred his growing career as a journalist. Mathilda and William were a generous couple, so they shared their resources with him and tried to help him get into the business as smoothly as possible. Sometimes she wanted to ask him about his permanent position at The Guardian and whether his name had anything to do with it, but she never felt comfortable enough to do it. Some things were better left unspoken.

Reaching the staircase to the station, Franklin stopped and made her turn to him and look up at his smiling face.

“Thanks for coming over tonight. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too.” She smiled shyly, nodding her head in reassurance.

“I wish you could finally move to the city, though. It would be so much easier if you were a few blocks away.”

“You do realize that even if I moved out, it wouldn’t be anywhere nearby?” Her chuckle resonated through her body, almost as if she wanted to humour herself at the topic that had started to come up more often in their conversations.

“I could ask around the office if anyone has a room available to rent.”

“But I don’t want to share my personal space with strangers, you know this. Don’t try to change my mind about it.” She smiled tightly.

Frank has been trying to persuade her into moving out for months. He wanted to be closer to her, within a short train journey, rather than a whole commute in and out of Kingston. He felt comfortable in the business of London, and Millie liked to call him out on being spoiled by having an apartment on his own in such a lively part of the city. But she wasn’t financially ready to leave her family home in equally comfortable Southwest London, where she had all she needed within her reach, and her social life was just a tiny bit longer train trip away. It was a source of their small disputes from time to time, because it was Millie who spent more time on going to his place and spending time there. Naturally, it made her feel more engaged in their relationship and Frank tried his best make up for the difference. But one thing that never occurred, was Millie staying over for longer than a night. Even a night’s sleepover was a rare event, somehow always blessed by excuses from either one of them.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he pecked her lips and brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I talk about it out of concern, okay?”

“Okay. But I like my train rides and I like Kingston. So let’s just deal with it for now, yeah?”

“’Course,” He sent her a tight smile before giving her one last kiss. “Text me when you get home.”

“Will do.”

Millie was one of those people who could be easily judged as thinkers. Years of taking trains and buses in and out of central London taught her to cherish every moment of peace she gets during her journeys. That’s how she learned to create playlists for each season – summer commutes were always different than autumn ones; they required different sounds and lyrical quality. Intense months during university semesters also showed her how to read fast between the stops and how to juggle standing on the tube and holding an open book without falling, as the train slowed and rushed every few seconds.

As she was approaching her station in Kingston, she stopped the music but kept her earphones in. A bunch of other people was hurrying to get out of the train and get home as soon as possible, but after leaving the station, she would have a lonely 15-minute walk to her neighbourhood, so she always tried to stay alert in the evenings. Getting on the sidewalk in the busiest area of Kingston, she closed her book and put it back in her backpack, pulled the jacket tighter around her middle and continued her steady walk.

The air was getting crispier with each minute outside. It was refreshing and calm, disturbed only by a few laughs from the pub across the street and two cars passing her by. She turned into one of the quieter streets, where the buildings were becoming shorter and more separated from each other. Brick fences and trimmed hedges adorned the concrete sidewalks on both sides of the street, illuminated only by a few lanterns. Most of the light was coming from the windows in a row of semi-detached houses that Millie has known for a good chunk of her life.

Right when she wanted to cross the street and take a right, she heard a subtle clicking of a dog collar and a leash. Soft padding from the back was slowly approaching her and becoming louder, as well as someone’s whistle.

“Tess, come here!” a hushed call didn’t disrupt the peace of the night, but rather added the familiarity that Millie adored. She slowed her walk and turned around, just in time to be met with lightly jogging blue Staffordshire Bull Terrier. She panted lightly with her tongue out and reached Millie’s legs, where she tucked her head and mewled timidly.

“Oh, and who do we have here?” Millie chuckled at the dog’s persistence in keeping close. She scratched her head and patted her on the back, “are you on your evening walk, Tessa? Is that right?”

“We didn’t mean to scare you, Millie,” Dominic reached them and sent Millie a kind and apologetic smile, “good evening.”

“Hi, it’s good to see you.” She beamed at the middle-aged man, whom she learned to adore like a family member.

“Likewise, yeah. Heading home?”

“I am, just got off the train.”

“We will keep you company, then. Is that alright?” He fixed his glasses and leaned down to attach the leash to Tessa’s collar. Millie’s insides warmed and her mind calmed down at the idea that she will get to spend a few minutes with a friend.

“Absolutely, thank you.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. I bet Tom would have my head, hadn’t I offered,” they chuckled at the mention of his son. Their laughter died off comfortably and escaped into the night air, while Millie reminisced about the caring nature of the Hollands. “How is it going at BBC?” he asked after a moment, letting her go first through a narrow passage.

“It’s… going,” she smiled shyly, not sure how to dress up her words. In Dominic’s company she always felt one step behind in her creative skills; his writing and comic abilities exceeded her capabilities, or so she thought. “but I feel like I’ve definitely hit an end with politics. I know it’s only been a month, but it’s just… it keeps on proving that I should be writing about something else.”

“Oh, it’s totally understandable. Rest assured, you’re not the only one stuck like this,” They turned the corner onto her street. “but I wish you luck there. They have some sensible editors, so I assume you’ll get a chance at something else as well.”

“I hope so. Today I asked them about switching departments and the intern manager told me she will think about it, so there is a tiny light.”

“Something will always work out. You’re smart, you’ll find your way there.”

Dom and Millie continued down the sidewalk, until Tessa stopped near the gate to Millie’s house. She sniffed the pavement and turned back to the girl who crouched down to pet the Staffy one last time.

“Thanks for walking with me,” her smile was genuine, coming straight from her heart. “please say hi to Nikki and the boys. Is Sam still home?”

“He is, he starts his practice at the end of June. So, we all will be here to celebrate your birthdays.”

“Oh, that’s great! It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

“That’s true. But you’re welcome to stop by anytime.”

“I know, thank you.” With fondness painted across her face, she scratched Tessa’s ear and stood up straight, reaching for the keys in her pocket.

“Have a good night.”

“You too. Bye, Tess!”

Whenever she got the chance to interact with someone from their family, Millie instantly felt their love and care penetrate her straight to the core. It was this kind of relationship that had been built through the years, only making it stronger and bringing it closer to the concept of family.

Nikki, Dom’s wife and Anna, Millie’s mother met shortly before Millie and Tom were born. At first only neighbours, soon they became best friends to the point of engaging their families in a kind affair. Greetings at the doorstep turned into late night family dinners and weekends away with the kids. They were used to spending most of the birthdays and holidays together, especially when Millie and Tom’s birthdays two days apart brought them all closer. She raced her best friend in Anna’s womb and came out to this world right before the brown-haired boy. Ever since the Beavers celebrated the birth of their third and youngest daughter, the Hollands began their journey with four boys. They always stayed close and treated each other like family, deeming it necessary to nourish their friendship and turn it into something everlasting. The example of their parents taught Millie and Tom to mimic the closeness and made them create their own little world.

Millie’s older sisters also treated Tom, Harry, Sam and Paddy like brothers, but not as much as Millie did. Samantha and Liz were already grown toddlers when the families got together, so they figured more as the female patrons of their youngest sister and her adventures with the boys. But Millie and Tom’s friendship turned into something so effortless and harmless that no supervision was necessary. They were each other’s partners in crime, best friends from next door. Their mothers had signed them up for the same dance classes, helped them get to the same summer carnivals, and let them have late nights in makeshift dens. Millie was one of the first people their dog, Tessa, got familiar with. She missed him dearly when he started his journey as a young actor, but Nikki made sure he always made the time to call his best friend when the time zones were somewhat cooperating. They nurtured their friendship through Millie’s education and Tom’s career, not stopping even for a moment. He was there for her always, carrying her home when she scratched her knee after falling off the slings. She would help him with homework whenever he felt too embarrassed to ask his parents. Tom escorted her home from her disaster of a prom; he was the first one to understand her anxiety and help her through it. And Millie always read the books and scripts Tom needed to prepare for auditions. Just like that, they always found home in one another.

           Their house smelled of baking and freshly watered plants. As quietly as possible, Millie took off her shoes and tip-toed into the kitchen, turning on only the least invasive, small lights. She put down her backpack and lightly stretched, letting out a tired, yet content breath. Her eyes scanned the kitchen in search for the source of the sweet scent, and there it was, on a cooling rack in the corner, covered with a tea towel – fresh lemon sponge cake, the favourite of Millie’s mother. Lightly dusted with powdered sugar, it added an extra layer of sweet comfort to the late night’s atmosphere. She left the cake untouched, but put the kettle on to quickly make herself a cup of tea for a good night’s sleep. She let out an overwhelming yawn and rested her hips on the side of the countertop, patiently waiting for the water to boil.

           She felt her phone vibrate in the back pocket of her jeans. The brightness of the screen was almost blinding, until it adjusted to the low lighting in the room. She could feel the anticipation growing in the back of her head as she noticed a new message.

           (Tom) I got you something today

           After a second or two, a picture loaded under the message. Millie gasped and smiled like mad, when he showed her a pair of Minnie Mouse sequin ears. It was an artefact that Millie has always dreamt of, not having an opportunity to go to Disneyland ever in her childhood.  She awaited the chance with high hopes and wandering mind, but she knew the trip had to be thorough, well-planned, and wholesomely happy.

           (Me) You were in Disneyland????

           (Tom) yeah we did promo for spidey today 

           (Me) I’m so jealous rn

           (Me) THANK YOU FOR THE EARS!!!!!  

           (Tom) it’s alright

           (Tom) I didn’t get any weird looks at all

           (Tom) Just casually carried around this shiny sparkling beauty

           (Me) I bet you loved this feeling

           (Me) I bet you bought yourself a pair too

           (Tom) Don’t tell anyone

           (Me) You could always pretend they’re for Tessa

           (Me) I just saw her and your Dad btw

           Whenever her and Tom texted, it always sparked a never-ending conversation about sweet nothings. They mocked each other, talked about their days, spoke about all things home. It allowed them a safe space from their daily hustles; Millie was able to breathe lightly and happily, and Tom had a chance to detach from the world he desperately tried not to drown in.

           Almost spilling the tea, she slowly made it upstairs without losing the sight of her phone screen. She struggled to turn off the lights in the corridor without making a noise but somehow, she managed not to disturb her parents too much, as she reached her bedroom. Safe within her own little space, she put down the mug and let go of her backpack and jacket. She threw herself on the softest bedspread and waited patiently for Tom’s reply.

           The text bubble stopped and a massage didn’t appear, but her phone started ringing. Millie answered the FaceTime call and waited for the camera on his phone to adjust and show his familiar face.

           “I had a meeting with Disney and they want me to participate in one of their projects for a Marvel-themed ride at Disneyland,” from a crooked angle she could see his neatly gelled hair and uneven eyebrows. Tom was walking somewhere, but then sat down and perched his phone on the mug that stood on the coffee table, so that she could see him better.

           “That’s exciting, right?”

           “Oh, yeah!” She could see him rummage in a brown paper bag and pull out a box with some takeaway food. “But I’m telling you this because we could turn it into our Disneyland trip that you’ve wanted, right?”

           “That would be nice, yeah.” She smiled back at the screen, but a terrible yawn sneaked in to her expression. Tom scrunched his forehead and took a large sip from a bottle of water.

           “I didn’t wake you up now, did I?”

           “No, I just came back home. I am tired, though.”

           “Yeah? How was work?”

           “Stressful and not nice. It wasn’t a good day.”

           “Oh, I’m sorry. Wanna talk about it?”

           Tom spent the next minutes carefully listening to her words and trying not to spill his soup on his fresh clothes. He hummed to some of the stories and asked little intrusive questions, to get the whole picture. She kept rubbing at her eyes and stifling her yawns every now and then, at last making a mess of her mascara and getting it all over her skin. Despite the seriousness in her voice, Tom smiled fondly to himself at the view of her ruined face that probably mimicked her current mental state. It wasn’t something he should laugh about, but it was rather endearing to have her so comfortably sharing her lows with him, while he casually ate his lukewarm, very late lunch.

           “Why are you laughing at me?” She returned his smile, knowing it was probably something she did.

           “You made yourself look like panda.” He chewed on a chunk of chicken from his second plate. The wrinkles by his eyes deepened with each of her chuckles and proved to them that this is the lightness they need in their daily routines. “Well, it’s good you asked for a new placement. You should be comfortable in your work environment. I’m proud of you.”

           “Thanks,” she yawned again and stopped herself mid-rubbing her eye again, earning a wholesome, groggy laugh from her friend, “your dad thinks they will give me another chance.”

           “I mean, he knows some people there, so he probably has a point.”

           “Yeah, I just don’t want to get my hopes up too high, you know?” A comfortable silence rested between them after he nodded and continued munching on his food. Millie stood up from her bed and took the phone with her, but also started to slowly get ready for the night.

           “You will know when the moment feels right and shows you something worth a shot. Trust yourself, Mills.”

           “I guess…” she trailed off, making her way to the closet to find fresh pyjamas. “I’m glad my panda face entertained your… what is it, lunch break?”

           “Sort of, yeah,” he chuckled, enjoying the playfulness of her tired self, “I should be coming back in two weeks. We could hang out then, if you’ll have the time.”

           “Oh, for sure.”

           “Alright, I’ll let you rest. Text me anytime, yeah?”

           “I will. Thanks for the Minnie ears!”

           “You got it, Minnie Mouse. Sweet dreams.”

                                                          *  *  *

After her little mishap with Politics Live, Millie tried her best to keep up the hard work, but stay low. She tried not to focus too much attention and just assist other workers in their tasks, only coming up with ideas when necessary. She strived to come back to her public voice, but she knew she needed it to have a comfortable outlet, preferably in another setting and on different topics. She was greeting the intern manager with additional caution and kindness, trying her best not to leave her case forgotten.

Segregating files for the research team seemed to be the best solution to her temporary creative break. Her attention to detail and wholesome care about the task being done to its full potential came in handy. She volunteered to help the group of meticulously scribbling and researching men in keeping their documents in order.

The soft mumble of the radio in the background was interrupted by a guy named Tim. He always wore rock band t-shirts under his jackets and Millie swore she had seen him participate in a wild dance routine during the last year’s Glastonbury Festival. He stopped typing on his keyboard and started to quietly hum a song that was definitely different to what Scott Mills was announcing on Radio 1.

“Oh my God, do you guys know this song? I can’t get it out of my head!” he groaned in frustration, making a few people in the open space office chuckle.

“Do you know any words, maestro?” Millie’s head snapped up at the sound of Kim, the intern manager’s voice. She was passing by with a bunch of files and a coffee, before she perched herself on his desk, obviously making fun of her friend.

“It’s got this very cool, mariachi-like trumpet between the lines,” he mimicked a trumpet player and hummed some more, “and the guy sings something about stopping a feeling…”

“Justin Timberlake?”

“You know he’s not my jam, Kim! It’s an old-school song.”

“You’re the old-school one here.” Kim’s comment earned a couple more laughs at poor Tim, who was genuinely struggling. “you’re the researcher, have you googled it?”

“Of course I googled it, stop mocking me! People are watching.”

Their little light-hearted exchange brought a breezy atmosphere to the office and made Millie smile some more. She kept on looking up at Tim to check if he’s found the song he was looking for, but without luck. Her fingertips started to tingle with each swipe through the pages in a file, because she felt like she knew the song. Deciding to come against her decision to lay low, she gently cleared her throat and swallowed her nerves of speaking up in a new environment.

“Hey Tim, have you tried to find it on Spotify?” they both looked at Millie with playful smiles, as anyone would to the up and coming intern fresh out of university.

“I don’t think it’s the title of the song, so I won’t find it there.”

“But you actually could,” she offered, biting her lip nervously “since the recent update, you can now type in the lyrics into the search bar and the results will show you all licensed songs with the same or similar lyrics.” Tim instantly reached for his phone and started typing away.

“Oh really? I didn’t know that, let’s see…” Kim looked into his phone and watched his progress.

“And since you’ve remembered a catchy verse, it’s very possible that others also tried to find this song through the same words. So, it will probably come up within the first few results.”

“Alright, smarty.” He shook his head in amusement. Millie watched as Kim’s face got ridden of any emotion and just stared at Tim’s work.

“But if nothing comes up, you can always try ‘Hooked on a Feeling’ by Blue Swede.”

Millie waited with racing heart at their reactions. Tim clicked on one of the results and raised the volume, filling the room with a sound so familiar to Millie’s memory. She smiled shyly and internally patted herself on the back, before coming back to her task.

           “How did you know this song?” His triumphant smile was radiating, as he did a little dance in his seat and twirled on his rolling chair. “It’s such an old tune, I didn’t think your generation would know it!”

           “Yeah Millie, how did you know?” Kim encouraged his question and watched her carefully, almost as if she was studying her intern.

           “It’s in the soundtrack to Guardians of the Galaxy. I wrote a paper on it.”

           “Hm.” Kim’s unreadable expression was giving Millie chills, but in a positive way. She liked to be asked about things that interested her and prompted her to be creative, so the way this situation evolved was close to burst her heart into passionate flames. “I’ll ask the Radio managers if they want a music and pop culture geek, how’s that sound?”

           It sounded like Millie put the trust in herself at the right time.  

****

tagged: @peeterparkr @katieraven @kozybear@sunsetholland @hey-marlie @lauras-collection@cunaeparker @constellationsv @heyhihellowhatsup0 @spideyspeaches

If it bothers you that you’re tagged, please let me know!

[fairestwriting]

title: half doomed and semi-sweet

word count: 5308

summary: Idia's bad luck comes back to haunt him again, being dragged into physically showing up to class and being assigned a group project involving a student from a different year, courtesy of Mr. Trein. His... "best friend", Kero Tricarenia, sees his distress in the situation, and swoops in to save him, though that might be what actually ends him instead of the project...

commissioned by @chibichibisha  , available on ao3 here ! tysm for the commission, i hope you like it! you have no idea how excited i was to write kero asjkdfsf-

my guidelines for commissions are here, in case anyone else is interested !

Of course that in the day Idia is made to actually show up to class, something like this happens.

The fact that it’s Trein’s class just makes it somehow worse. Of course, it’s not all bad, he gets to see Lucius napping on the teacher’s desk—! ...but, he also gets to be pestered by Cater the second he’s walking in, and then the second he’s walking out, plus, just the presence of all these people… Idia shudders just thinking about it.

He pulls his hoodie closer to his face, trying to shield it in vain. He just wanted to go back to his room. Trein was the worst for making him actually show up. He’d been attending classes through the tablet for so long, what was the issue with today specifically? Why couldn’t he just do it the way he always does? He just doesn’t get it—

“Before class is dismissed,” Trein starts in that voice of his, commanding yet with a hint of a drawl that makes Idia want to delve into eternal slumber. “I have an announcement to make. Due to recent events, the headmaster has assigned the teachers the task of building… teamwork, and solidarity, between students, even the ones in different years, and I’ve been chosen to apply that, so your monthly History assignment will work somewhat differently this time.”

Great. Awesome. These were his favorite words in the whole world. As if today couldn’t get any worse.

“I’ll need you to gather a pair or trio with students from different years, to build a mockup representing a historical event of your choosing. You’re supposed to inform me of your groups until tomorrow's class, and the deadline will be held two weeks from now, on February 13th. You’ll be presenting your works the day after.”

Idia feels the clammy hands of dread on both his ankles, threatening to pull him under. Of course this would get worse somehow. He exhales a deep sigh, burying his face on his hands… he’d have to email Mr. Trein about doing the assignment by himself later. And it’d be such an unpleasant conversation, with how he insisted on having students follow all these traditional learning methods.

Really, why the hell were they getting group projects now, out of all things? They had one foot out of school, basically. Fourth year barely had any classes, most of the students’ times filled up with internships and research so what did they get out of trying to “develop teamwork skills” within their students? None of these people would be talking to each other by the time they graduate, anyways… they were wasting resources to max out a stat that didn’t matter.

He tugs the hood of his jacket over his face again as he walks out of the classroom, sneaking outside like he’s avoiding to get scolded — The blue glow of his hair insisting on sticking out, Idia feels his heart race and squeeze while he makes his way across the crowded hallways. He swears he hears Cater’s voice calling for him as he leaves, too… but maybe he’s just making it up, because of how especially cursed he feels today.

What an awful morning, really. At least locking himself up with that MMO he’s gotten hooked on recently would feel even more cathartic.

After the nerve-wracking walk, Trein’s words poking at him like imps with their tridents — Him trying to figure out how to convince that teacher to let him do everything by himself, no presentation included, without having to actually face the guy — Idia finally gets back to his dorm. Finally.

He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding — Just like in the fanfics, geez — when he steps into the lounge, though even the mostly vacant blue and white space felt a little oppressive now. Sure, he cared about his dormmates, they were fine people, but they were still people, and what he really needed now, was…

“IDIA!”

...within one second of the click of his door being unlocked, Idia is reminded once again that he never will know peace.

“K-Kero!” He yelps, suddenly overwhelmed by a hug, arms around his entire body squeezing him tight, maybe too tight— It’s a second before he remembers this is in fact supposed to be his room. “W-Wait, what are you doing here? That’s my room!”

Unleashed from the mighty grip, red eyes meet Idia’s as Kero’s head tilts, a smile on his face flashing his sharp teeth.

“I know that! I was looking for you.” He just announces, following right behind with that skip on his step as Idia enters and locks the door behind them. He hadn’t seen Kero in… how long, now? It’d been a while, that much he knew. Idia had been busy lately, with… “You finished that tournament yesterday night, right? How did you do? I got you that cake from the cafeteria you like to celebrate!” His questions are rapid-fire, tail wagging as he rushes towards Idia’s unmade bed to pick up the little packaged treat he’d gotten.

“You don’t even know how it went yet, but you’re already getting your hopes up.” Idia grumbles, but the second the package is placed on his hands, he does gracefully accept it. “Well, my team did win, so…”

“Yes! I knew you would!” Kero cheers, grinning again as he sits on his bed. He’s… so full of energy it’s hard to watch, Idia would say.

But, well, that would kind of be a huge lie.

“Yeah, thanks for leaving me be for a bit so I could practice.” He mutters, moving to sit on his desk chair. The package makes a crinkling plastic noise while he messes with it, opening it to reveal a slice of strawberry shortcake — That has him glancing at Kero for a second, a fuzzy feeling taking over.

...because that’s just what his emotions do now.

It was stupid, Idia’s sighing tiredly just thinking about it — When it started was beyond him, but for some reason or another, something keeps pulling him towards Kero. It’s not exactly a big deal, some sort of soul-binding string of fate or something like that, but even when he’s not there physically, Kero lingers, flashes of sharp teeth and boisterous laughing in Idia’s mind. It’s not a big deal! But it’s like Kero had hanged around him so much he left a mark.

And Idia doesn’t really hate that. He stares at the cake in his hands, and thinks of Kero smiling as he got it for him, without any sort of request, just because he saw the cake and remembered that he liked it, and his mind stresses just how much he doesn’t hate that.

(...well, it was a sort of doomed thing, they would never move on from this strange affectionate friendship, because Idia isn’t going to… tell Kero he’s crushing on him, or anything like that. That’d just screw everything up. And what he has now isn’t actually bad at all. Really, it’s fine if Kero never understands. It’s fine. )

“Are you… good, though? Do you need anything?” Kero asks, snapping him out of the messy daydreams with another good natured tilt of his head — He’s a dog alright. “You… just look kinda gloomy and stuff.”

Idia snickers, shaking his head. “Yeah, like I ever look different.” He mumbles, and takes a bite of cake. It’s sweet, he thinks, making a surprised noise as he wonders when the last time he had it was… he licks some whipped cream off his fingers. “Mm, this time is different though. Something with a group project from Mr. Trein… tires me out just to think about it.” He sighs. But Kero’s ears perk up, pointing straight upwards.

“Oh! That, yeah. He told 2-D about it today too.”

“Yeah. This sucks. I’m just gonna… find a way to work by myself.” Idia shakes his head, sinking on his chair a little further. He bites into the cake again. “You think Mr. Trein knows how to read emails?” He snickers, but the thought of having to meet him face-to-face makes his skin crawl. “...ugh, I d-don’t wanna have to talk to him during office hours…”

Kero hums in slightly concerned acknowledgement, plopping down on his bed with attentive eyes. Idia finds himself in a weird wondering of how it felt like to sit down when you were a beastman. Did it hurt his tail or something? It’s wagging against the mattress, though. His ears point to opposite sides while he looks up vaguely. Idia muses about what he might be thinking about.

“Well, you could always do it with me! They said to get one of your underclassmen, right.” Kero suggests, and… Idia swears he sees his tail wag a little harder, but that could very well just be a trick of the light. “I can do the presentation too, and I’m good with building things, so…” He grins. “Plus, you won’t have to… talk to Mr. Trein.”

Idia hums through a mouthful of cake. Well, doing the project with Kero would certainly be better than with someone he didn’t know. However, it’s…

His eyes linger on Kero’s expectant form on his bed, smiling so cheerfully. He’s very aware of the couple feet of distance between them right now, and even like this, Kero’s presence does things to his heart… that’s bad, so bad, he thinks, it’s hard to ignore how his heartbeat is just a tad faster now, summed with this different flavor of nervousness that just seemed to simmer in his blood now… yeah, it’s no good.

“I m-mean, I guess I wouldn’t mind that.” Is what he stutters out. Kero beams.

Stupid cute Kero. This isn’t helping Idia convince himself none of this is a big deal.

“Yeah! If you’re doin’ a project you might as well do it with your best friend, right?” He says. Here he is again with the best friend talk… oh, if only he knew. “We can have fun with it too. Actually, I can have fun with everything as long as I’m with you, heh.”

Idia feels heat creeping up his neck. Stupid cute Kero! “Ugh, you d-don’t gotta be embarrassing about it.” He mumbles, eyes averted. The cake finished with one last bite, Idia places the empty package on his desk, licking leftover cream off his fingers again. “We’re just putting some annoying mockup together. It’s not a big deal. If we add some simple machines to it to make it cooler it’ll already be higher-res than everyone else’s, it’s just an easy A. Everyone else’s just gonna use magic, I bet.”

“Yeah, obviously. I mean it doesn’t have to be annoying, though.” Kero comments. “We’ve gotta choose a historical event, right? Do you have any ideas?”

“Uhhh. The industrial revolution of the Isle of Lamentation? That’s… pretty much all I paid attention to this year, anyways.” He shrugs. Trein’s classes were boring, naturally. And they were so early in the morning, too… his tablet may have been there most of the time, but Idia himself was passed out on his bed.

“I think that works! We’ll have to make a bunch of stuff for the machines. But that’ll be fun.”

Idia hums. He’s thinking about these machines, actually, the miniature factories they could put together. The blueprints begin to write themselves up rather quickly. “We’d blow their little minds if we just had some… smoke coming out of the chimneys, some gears spinning around. Fuhihi, our mockup might be the best.” With his head in the clouds — Or the laboratory, rather — he finds himself grinning, waving a finger in the air. “Hey, Kero, what do you th… huh?”

And Kero isn’t on his bed anymore. He’s right there, in front of him.

Before Idia can say anything about this (Kero right in front of him, leaning in closer, he feels so cornered, his heart might stop!) Kero leans in even further, a big hand coming up to his face and (He’s going to die, definitely, he’ll die right here.) and he wipes off some whipped cream from near Idia’s lips.

“You had some on your face! Heheh.” He chuckles, licking it off his thumb. Idia feels like his blood pressure has just plummeted, or… or maybe it just did the opposite, how is he supposed to tell? His face feels so hot there’s no way his brain is getting the proper oxygen at all, he can barely think—!

“G-Give me a warning before you do something like this!” Idia wheezes, high pitched like a squeaky toy, and Kero just laughs again, grinning with this hint of mischief. “I didn’t even see you move!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were distracted? I’m happy you’re excited about the project, though. I think it’s cute.” He says outright, and Idia… Idia just puts his hands on his face, averting his eyes with intent. Why does Kero have to be... so... much? “C’mon, you can sit with me on the bed. We can talk better like this.” A strong hand grabs at his wrist, easily looping around it as he pulls at Idia, making him squeak again as he’s dragged towards the bed.

“This doesn’t even make any sense!” Idia complains, but Kero tugs him towards the bed with no effort at all, and he just accepts his fate, huffing like it’d ease the warmth crawling all over his face. “Ugh, a-anyway, I was talking about the factories we’d put on the mockup… I thought of having some machines with exposed insides, with the spinning gears would be good, and conveyor belts that function…”

As he launches into explanation, Kero nods, making this unbreakable eye contact. Idia has to stop and take a deep breath every couple minutes, the situation somehow overwhelming. It feels like his condition just got a little worse every day, huh.

(Well, it’s fine. He could just avoid him if things got bad. Though… he doesn’t like thinking about this, recalling the week before the game tournament even. It’s kind of stupid, if he’s just making Idia nervous why does he have this need to keep him around? As expected, emotions make little to no sense...)

“...so, basically that’s what I thought.” Idia ends the explanation. Kero still has his attentive look on his face, almost like it froze there. “Did you pay attention?”

“Nah. I was just looking at you while you talked, ‘cause you looked so pretty.” Kero leans in with a smirk (Can he please stop trying to kill Idia, he’s just gotten down to a normal-ish heart rate again!) that then turns into one of his usual friendly smiles. “Kidding! I did, yeah. Do you wanna start it tomorrow?”

“You…! Uh, um, I don’t know. I wanna play my new game.” He stumbles with speaking, but it still comes out. At least. “We could probably finish that in, what, two days at most? If you don’t mind going to the lab late at night.”

“Roger that. For Idia, I’ll go to the ends of Twisted Wonderland!” He declares, fist thumping against his chest with a proud grin. “I’ll get us your snacks too. Can’t have you going hungry. But now I gotta go to track.”

Idia blinks. Already? He remembers that club meetings do in fact exist. He’d been skipping on his lately so he ended up kind of… forgetting them. Seeing Kero go, though, it’s…

“R-Right, I hope you, uh… enjoy yourself.” He stutters. Then he wants to hit himself on the face, really, what kind of stupid farewell was that? Just say bye and go back to your games, idiot. Luckily, Kero doesn’t seem to mind it.

“Yeah, yeah, I will!” He chimes, getting up from the bed — Leaning down a little, he puts a hand over Idia’s flaming hair, ruffling it to his surprise. “I’ll see you, okay? Literally. I’m coming over again later, ‘cause after all this time I’m not leaving my best friend alone!”

Idia feels frozen in place while Kero pets him, eyes zeroed in on that grin — Before he leaves, and he exhales. Again. That breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

He doesn’t play the game yet. Instead, he lays face down on the bed and screams into the pillow, whatever feelings had been simmering while Kero was around just exploding the second he leaves. Great Seven, he was so stupid. Both of them, actually.

Kero was stupid for not seeing how much this crush was clearly consuming him, and Idia… Idia was stupid for getting involved in any of this at all, in so many ways and for so many reasons, but he just can’t bring himself to stop now.

He swears it’s not that big of a deal. But it’s a lie, obviously. Clearly.

. . .

Once he’s back into his room after practice, Kero shuts his door behind him, and he laughs.

He feels the strain on his body from the running, sure, but every bit of it is somehow also filled with so much energy — With his hands on his face like how Idia does when he’s shy, he grins so much his cheeks hurt with the pulling. His heart won’t stop racing.

Who let him be so adorable!

He knew they’d end up doing this project together, of course. When Trein mentioned it’d involve students from different years, Idia was the first person Kero thought of! But the reality still makes him so giddy. To think he’d have a chance to do a project with him! He’s really been too lucky these days. Trein was… something else, to him, but with something like this, he might be willing to overlook the fact that the guy was absolutely terrifying.

Well, what matters is that he gets some more time with Idia — Even better, they’d be alone together! — The tournament week sucked, straight up. Kero ran some errands for him but it just wasn’t the same! Though he didn’t mind this sort of caretaking either, Idia barely took breaks. He didn’t even tell him much about the game he was playing, actually. Kero was basically crawling up the walls with how bored he’d gotten.

But that’s irrelevant now.

Still grinning and laughing to himself with all that burst of energy running through his skin, Kero hops over to his desk — With how he was, Idia would probably have some blueprints for the machines ready soon, but this was a nice chance to impress. He gathers some parts and tools, and gets to work.

...work that takes longer to complete than it usually does for him, but as expected, through the following days, Idia texts him vague guidelines on what their mockup should be like, ideas and half-baked blueprints that they discuss both through the phone and when he shows up at Idia’s place, and when the fated day of getting together at Ignihyde’s laboratory arrives, he has all those trinkets on his desk. He’s so ready.

ill see you there at 2, Idia’s text reads, bring the stuff i told u to make

Yes, yes, right away! Kero smiles bright as he gathers the miniature machines into a shoe box he’d gotten for them. He can feel his tail wag with excitement even as he carries it through the gloomy late-night corridors.

The door opened with a bang — Oops, he definitely handled it too roughly — Kero chimes as soon as he sets foot into the lab. “Idia!” He calls when he arrives. “I’m here!”

“Eek!” Idia, who was already leaned over the table, spreading scratchy blueprints and machine parts on it, is startled in a jolt. “D-Don’t sneak up on me like this! Geez…”

“Heheh, sorry, sorry.” Kero laughs, setting the box near the other items on the table, which Idia eagerly turns to inspect, complaints or not. Well, if that was the case, he’d inspect Idia for a bit too. He was looking unusual today, after all! Without that heavy jacket of his, wearing his lab wear and striped shirt. Kero’s heart leaps. “You’re looking good today, huh! ‘s unusual to see you looking like this, like… one of these R cards from your gacha games, or something.”

Kero feels proud of himself for the comment — Hey, Idia, look at me, I pay attention to your rambling! But Idia makes an offended noise instead.

“T...The R cards are the common ones, stupid.” He scoffs, giving him a narrow eyed look, but there’s still a soft flush of pink over his cheeks. “Ugh, I can’t believe I let you spend time with me when you don’t know that.”

Well. Kero tried, all he can do is laugh about it. At least he didn’t miss the compliment entirely! “Ehh, you do it ‘cause we’re best friends and you love me!” He says. “C’mon, we should get started on this already.”

“...y-yeah, yeah, whatever.” Idia shakes his head, but when he turns his face towards the table to look at their work in progress, there’s a slight smile on his blue lips that Kero couldn’t possibly miss. “Did you make the conveyor belts? I think I forgot to send you anything on these, couldn’t decide what material would be better for them…”

Moments like these are just so… so everything. Kero can’t find the words to describe how happy he is to be around Idia and be able to say things like that! Though, he feels it’s not exactly enough… even if all of this does feel nice, and he’s grateful for it.

(Well, he has a crush on Idia, that much he knows, so he guesses that’s something to be expected, in a way? He’s heard his classmates talking about the being unable to get enough related to someone so it was just part of it, probably. What they have now is good, straight out of his dreams even! Just… feelings are weird, aren’t they? He keeps wanting more, though he doesn’t know exactly what would sate this hunger.)

“Oh, I did rubber on the top and some of that light metal for the parts. I thought it’d be better if we don’t make it too heavy!” Kero replies, digging around for his own lab gear he’d brought. They might have to do some welding today, so it was always good to be careful.

(Plus, they got to match outftits!)

Idia nods, focused gaze on a miniature engine. “Ohh… huh. That’s good, actually. I think this might be easier than I thought.” He mutters. “We have all the parts to build the interior of the factory… I guess we could put that together tonight, and tomorrow we can get the rest? For the outside, I guess. If we just focus on the factory instead of the, uh, social repercussions or something like that, Trein might deduct points.”

He feels his ears deflate just a little at the teacher’s mention. “Tell me about it.” Idia passes him the engine, a silent command for him to get to work linking it with the other right parts. “Do you want me to get the stuff for the scenery from the store?”

“Yeah, sure. Would be helpful.”

Kero smiles at him, and for a single silent moment they’re putting the machine parts together. Engines and gears and a seemingly endless stretch of conveyor belts, wires and such hidden on the inferior part of the styrofoam slab the mockup was being built on.

“...hey, is that the battery?”

“Yup! Just gotta charge with magic whenever you wanna see it working.”

Idia turns it around on his hands, looking at it from every angle, making a humming noise to himself…

Huh, Kero is suddenly very aware that they’re all alone in that laboratory.

Maybe it’s because of how Idia looks at the small object, or how he touches it with this utmost care one wouldn’t think he has. It’s weirdly easy for other people to assume Idia was lazy, Kero recalls, and it was something he never really understood. He was such a diligent person, actually, but people couldn’t see it right because he didn’t put effort into things people commonly worked hard in. That makes him feel sort of bitter inside, he thinks, but also proud in a way.

He’s the only one who knows Idia this closely, it comes into Kero’s mind, and a smile sprawls across his face.

“...w-what? Why are you looking at me like that?” Of course, Idia notices. The pinkish glow on his face before turns into something more like strawberry red, and… agh, what the hell, Kero’s smile gets bigger.

“It’s ‘cause you’re so cute, of course!” He says without missing a beat. How many times has he called Idia cute now? Far too many to count. But he can’t stop, and it never feels like enough to show just how god damn adorable Idia was to him. It was such a crazy feeling, really.

“Gh… and you’re e-embarrassing, as always.” Idia responds as he averts his eyes. “We’ve gotta finish this as soon as possible, y’know, now’s not the time for...t-this.”

“What do you mean with this?” Kero asks amidst a laugh. Idia looks at him with this cranky sort of expression and his heart feels like it’s about to take off and fly, wow. “You asked me a question and I answered it!”

“Yeah, you answered it while being a jerk.” Idia mumbles, getting back to unscrewing something. Kero doesn’t get what he mean with it exactly but, well, he always says stuff like this.

“I mean it, though! I think you’re really cute.” He says, it’s so easy to say things like that, they end up just coming out on their own, even when he’s trying to put his brain cells back into work like Idia wants him to. “I tell you that all the time! D’you not think you’re cute?”

Idia glances at him with wide eyes. “I...n-no? What in the Lord of the Underworld makes you think I’m c-cute?” He asks, voice almost an octave higher.

Something about this strucks Kero differently. Is that a rhetorical question? It doesn’t matter. He wants to answer.

“Well, do you want me to tell you?” He suggests, and his heart is racing. It takes just a little bit of effort to ask something like this, it’s not quite having to hype himself up for it, but… well. What’s with this mood anyways? Idia’s hands are on his flushed cheeks, gloved fingers ready to cover up his eyes, like he usually does when he’s flustered — And here’s something to add to the list already, wow.

“I-I, um.”

“If you don’t say no I’m gonna tell you.” He looks straight into Idia’s eyes… such a nice shade of yellow, an amber-gold. Kero doesn’t always mean to tease, but now he does. He has a strong impulse to do it, a determination like he’s rushing towards the finish line in track — What sort of face would Idia show him if he told him everything? “Three, two, one…you lost your chance to say no! I’m gonna tell you.”

Idia squeaks like he got jumpscared, but he doesn’t object to any of it. Kero’s excited — He takes a step closer, and takes it upon himself to touch Idia’s hair again, because he absolutely couldn’t get enough of how it didn’t burn him.

“First of all, I know you hate it since it sticks out so much, but your hair is really cute.” He says, tucking a lock of hair behind Idia’s ear, feeling him shrink and tense under the light touch — Would he do that if Kero touched him more? If he wrapped his arms around Idia’s waist and held him close? “It’s so bright and pretty, and the bangs look so nice on you, they’re kinda messy and long but in a way that’s adorable.”

Indulging himself a little further, he lets his hand ghost over Idia’s bangs, brushing them to the side and watching them fall back into place. Idia’s face is fully red now. The hair doesn’t feel like much to the touch since it’s fire, actually, but, something about it…

“Second! You have a cute smile!” Kero chimes. He’s supposed to retract his hand now, but — It just stays on Idia’s cheek. And he finds that he really doesn’t want to take it off there. “When you talk about the things you like, and you get all excited about them and start grinning… it’s really cute, actually. I like it when I see you all full of energy.”

Idia’s eyes dart around. Are his hands shaking? Kero eyes at them briefly, before taking one into his — Unable to stop himself again — and the latex of his glove meets Idia’s, watched by wide amber eyes as he laces their fingers together. Shaking, indeed, but he was able to steady them.

“Third… related to that, how your hands move when you’re rambling. I stare at them a lot. That’s how much I love to see you all excited about stuff.”

His voice had fallen softer. The coldness of the laboratory seems to just fade. Kero’s heart feels…

“Fourth...” He starts, but no words come to him. He just stares at Idia’s face, his eyes, the blue tint of his lips. There’s more to say, obviously, but he can’t think of it, and he— “...can I kiss you?”

Somehow there’s no recoil time, no surprised noise on Idia’s part, and though he loves his shyness and how it shows through, he finds that he loves it even more when he’s expecting something like this, when he wants it. The shaky, uncertain nod is all he needs to give a name to that hunger he’d been feeling.

Ah, he was in love, everything be damned.

Kero doesn’t hesitate. One hand on his cheek and the other holding his, his lips meet Idia’s, his heart now soaring completely. If he looked back on it now he’d probably find it sort of awkward, Idia’s lips are chapped and the sharp teeth felt strange against each other, but none of this matters when he feels so euphoric, when Idia just melts into his kiss, eyes fluttering shut.

He doesn’t know how long it lasts. The brief pauses to breathe aren’t enough to actually do so, but neither of them seem to mind. The held hands unlace, Idia’s coming up to Kero’s neck to urge him closer, Kero’s on Idia’s waist like he’s dreamed.

When they pull away, both breathless, Kero is grinning, and Idia looks dazed, his eyes glossy, at least for a moment before he seems to realize what they’ve just done.

“O-Oh my...we.” He squeaks, freezing in Kero’s embrace. “W-We, we just…”

“Hey, it’s cool!” Kero assures, and he pulls him a bit closer, now causing a small shriek. “I love you, you know.”

“Y-You…” Idia stutters. How long would it be until he was able to string sentences together again? Kero doesn’t have an exact estimate, but, well, this was fine too. Especially as his tension drops, and he hides his warm face on Kero’s shoulder. “...you’re the worst? You’re so embarrassing I could die.”

“That’s a quick recovery, huh.”

“S-Shut up!” Idia whines, but he stays. He stays, and Kero holds him so close that his happiness feels like it’s overflowing, and the cravings from before are just slowly satisfied. “I… I, um.”

“Tell me.” A hand on the side of Idia’s face, he pulls his face upwards, making him look into his eyes again — Would he ever get enough of this, though? They’re so close. “Do you love me too, Idia?”

Idia hesitates, an embarrassed noise leaving him.

“I… I do.” He mutters — And he smiles. “You idiot.”

Kero smiles, his feelings actually overflowing in how he hugs Idia even tighter, and he laughs.

The project could be finished tomorrow, anyways.

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 22

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20, part 21

Hope everyone is keeping themselves mentally/physically well... here’s the next update in your adventure. Please safely read from home ;) 

The sun moved slowly up my window, illuminating the dancing dust in the air. Even though I knew dust didn’t have feelings, it all still looked very peaceful, suspended there in space. 

 I wanted to be suspended, floating, with no obligations or pressures. 

 Instead, I watched time slip by, slowly, as the shadows stretched along my floor and I lay still, wrapped in a giant Winnie-the-Pooh sheets burrito. 

I called in sick the past three days to work and to all my classes, my lack of attendance probably dropping me a letter grade in a few classes. Instead of checking on my academic scholarship, I begged Renny to drop off Dr. Rhinecuff’s papers for me. She did, lamenting about how his office smelled like roast beef and how she probably needed a nose job from it shrivelling up from the stench. Tired, I sent her three hearts, ignoring all of her calls and voicemails. 

 In a random bout of restless energy, I looked up the University of Oxford in England. No one would know me there. And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing when you didn’t even know yourself. I stayed on their site for an hour, avoiding my take-home assignments, and speculating which classes I could take in the spring semester. My eyes grew tired though, and even if I were accepted as a transfer student, it wasn’t like I could ever afford it without scholarships. 

 I closed the computer. 

 It’d been cloudy, rainy. The random storm that’d come in from Mexico lasted longer than the usual morning fog that’d roll in and out by the time it was 9 AM. This storm lingered, heavy, full clouds looking to burst and unleash a steady rain for three to four hours before the clouds rested, storing up all they could until the next downpour. 

 My parents didn’t question me when I came in, used to my random visits. But when I went straight to my room without saying hello, rain-plastered hair covering puffy eyes, my mom basically collapsed at the sight. 

 She followed me to the bed, trying to see my face, but I buried it in the pillow, ignoring the way the purple fringe tickled my nose. 

 “What’s wrong sweetheart?” 

 I just groaned. Her voice was too gentle, too well-intending for the dark thoughts sitting in my mind. She’d be heartbroken if she heard them. 

 She huffed, not out of annoyance, but distress. “What’s bothering you?? Is it Renny? Did you breakup with Harry?” All those reasons were too simple. She ran her hands lightly along my legs, but I cringed away from her touch. It was something I rarely did. She paused. “You can tell me anything...” 

 I shook my head against the pillow, my last attempt to tell her to leave without speaking. She waited a moment longer. 

 “Okay,” she said. And that was it. 

 Father didn’t ask questions, not even when I was here for the third consecutive day. Mom had probably come to her own conclusions, and shared them with him. 

 “Mom said you aren’t feeling too well,” he said over cereal one morning, confirming my suspicions. It was the first time he’d broken our three-day spree of comfortable silence. 

 “What else did she tell you?” 

 He shrugged his shoulders, his usual buoyant self replaced with a quiet voice. He looked at me, and all I saw was pity. If I were him, I’d probably look at me the same way. I hadn’t showered in a while. “Well don’t let anything get you down. You’re too smart for that.”

 He’d tried. He’d put in an effort. I just nodded, scooping up another spoonful of cereal. He followed suit. 

 And that was that.  

 A week passed like this. 

 But overnight, the clouds had blown away, and the sun came back full-force this morning just in time for the weekend, renewing my guilt. That traitor. 

 I’d cried all of Monday and Tuesday, but when the last tear was shed in the middle of a New Girl episode, I was empty. My tears didn’t leave anything to replace them with. 

 On Wednesday, a phone alarm reminded me I had a therapy appointment. I hit snooze multiple times. It was only when I got up to pee, and I hated what I saw in the mirror that I threw on an oversized sweater to go over my pajamas and headed out the door. 

 “Is it good?” I asked. 

 Her hands reviewed my wants list.  

 “That’s just a coffee stain on the corner..just...ignore that bit,” I added. 

 She surveyed it briefly, not really focusing on it. “Were you honest?”

 I nodded.

 “Then there isn’t good or bad. It’s just your truth.”

 “But I still feel… I don’t know. I don’t think I know what that is. I don’t feel like I’m… progressing. Doing anything towards that,” I said. 

 She looked at me with a level gaze. “Then that’s your truth. And that’s okay for right now.”

 I shot her a glance.

 “I see a common struggle with people your age. They feel this….” -She adjusted, quirking her head- “immense pressure to be perfect, to figure it all out, to achieve success so early.” 

 “Everyone��s doing it,” I began. “They’re getting internships, keeping up their grades, involved in ten clubs, doing community service…” I could’ve droned on, but didn’t. 

 “You have an internship, your grades are good, you’ve joined a sorority, and up until recently you’ve been involved in tutoring. Those are extracurriculars.” 

 I couldn’t argue with her. 

 “Is it too much?” she asked.

 Too much. It was everything I’d been feeling until I’d felt nothing. But hearing her list off what was waiting for me just beyond her doors made me feel the weight of it all over again. 

 “I’ve just been overwhelmed.” 

 “Who have you been thinking about?” 

 She noticed I started picking my hangnail. 

 She started gently, knowingly. “Has it been Harry?” 

 “Ow,” I cursed. A bit of blood prickled up where the hangnail used to be. 

 “He seems to be a major stressor in your life. Would you agree?” The clock ticked behind her, filling the silence. Her hands rested in her lap, while mine swiped away the bit of blood. I could never remember my therapist’s name, but somehow it wasn’t important. 

 “Yeah, but … I mean …. there’s a lot of stressors.”

 “Like his friends?”

 His friends, in the abbreviated story I’d told her, stood in place for the gang. I’d used terms like … intimidating, mean, basically painting them as bullies who didn’t like us together. I wasn’t expecting to get much therapy from a lie. “Out of curiosity, if I were to tell you something… would you be obligated to report it to the police?” 

 “Not necessarily.” Her legs crossed, creased brows zeroing in with a laser focus. “Has something happened to you, Y/N?”

 I swallowed hard, the truth lodged in my throat. But I had gotten too used to the weight of the secret. “I was just curious…” My mind raced to change the subject, and I blurted about Zayn’s art show. 

 “Do you think this panic attack was induced by this heightened sense of scrutiny from Harry’s friends?” 

 “Probably.” 

 “You said there were others. What are your main stressors?’ 

 I settled in, more comfortable with this question. “There’s financial stressors, for one. And it’s exasperated here.” 

 “You’ve been dealing with financial difficulties for a while, now. Have you been feeling this anxious the entire time, or has it been recent?” 

 My foot tapped impatiently. We both knew the answer.

 “Your panic attack was a first,” she explained, gently. “Some new factor in your life pushed you there.” 

 I picked at the hangnail, wincing. It was gone. My skin was raw. 

 “Maybe it all links back to Harry.” She waited a moment to see if I’d speak. When I didn’t, she leant back, and pulled out a new sheet of paper, scribbling something down. “I want you to write a pros and cons list about your relationship with him, for next time. When your feelings are overwhelming, it helps to get everything on paper. In a list. Puts things in perspective.” 

 I drove home, her words had pushed themselves into my empty shell and now they clinked around, jostling up my insides like a pinball machine and giving me a headache. 

 Just because I hadn’t left the house all week didn’t mean I didn’t feel guilty for ditching work. God, I did. It killed me. I knew I was lucky to get that internship. Harry had mentioned how people killed just to get on the waitlist, and I didn’t doubt it. An OC internship with, if not the top, at least the most publicized private practice? I mean, I was typing in appointments next to a Southern Stanford grad if that speaks to the competition here. 

 And here I was, retreating back to my house, too drained to face the world. 

 As for Harry, after what I’d said to him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to talk to me ever again. 

 I’d been so cruel. 

 I was weak.  

 I felt guilty for feeling this way at all. 

 And then I would watch the dust again.

 It was a cycle. 

 About three blocks from my house on my way back from the therapist session, a familiar car passed me. It happened suddenly, unexpectedly, like most things do. We made eye contact before he passed, and my foot instantly lifted off the gas when my eyes connected with my brain. I whipped my head around but the matte black maserati sped up, disappearing from sight. 

 What was Harry doing this far from campus? 

 My heart beat erratically as I pulled into the driveway, and it was only seconds before I made it into the house. Father held up a hand in Grandpa’s old room. Phone call. Trudging silently to my own, I wrapped myself in a blanket burrito. 

 I’d been avoiding my phone, but I caved this time, checking J’s social media to see if he’d posted anything about being in the area to prove I WASN’T crazy and DIDN’T just hallucinate. Nothing. I tossed my phone on the other side of the room before I spiralled.  

 It didn’t matter. I was in my room. Alone. Safe. I focused on the dust. 

 Two little knocks disrupted my exciting mind game - which dust particle would fall further than the other. 

 “You’re turning ripe,” Father noted. His briefcase was still in his hand and he was coming startlingly close to my depression burrito. 

 “What are you doing-!?” I protested. But it was too late. He ripped the sheets off, exposing me in the t-shirt I’d been in since Monday. “Your mood won’t change if you don’t make an effort.

Come on.”

 “Where are we going?”

 “You’re coming to the water with me.” He hesitated at the door. “Shower first.” 

 In the car, a sense of comfort washed over me. He’d been right. Clean wet hair smelled nice and felt good slicked around my head. Even if Mom would complain I’d “catch cold,” it felt good to feel something. Dad’s speakers switched between classic rock and reggaeton as I sipped on the chocolate shake we picked up from the Shake Shack. It was a short drive away to the harbor, and once parked, a shorter walk to the public docks. 

 Our feet dangled above the water. It was too cold to go swimming this time of year, but my body buzzed with yearning despite the goosebumps on my skin. I wanted to feel encompassed by salty water. I wanted to be submerged, where everything was muted, a barrier between me and the world. Between my wet hair and the icy shake, I could pretend my body was as cool as the water below me. I could just…. dissolve. 

 “So what’s going on?” he opened up the conversation. “You having a hard time at school?” 

 “I don’t like the sorority.” 

 His brows raised, not expecting me to be so honest so soon. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, don’t you hate that shit?” 

 I looked at him, almost shocked he’d agreed with me. 

 The boats squeaked as they rocked with the rolling tides coming in from the ocean. I watched as a duffy boat wandered to the end of the jetty - where the harbor opened to the ocean. I took another big gulp of my shake, feeling the cold run down, freezing my esophagus. 

 “I liked frats, but sororities are different,” he mumbled, spooning his shake into his mouth. He’d gotten his usual Neapolitan, and it’d somehow stayed solid on the drive over. We hadn’t been to the Shake Shack in years, but I guess seeing his daughter waste away beneath her comforter was enough to break the dry spell. 

 “Why? Because its girls?” My lips were breaking into a smile without my consent. He didn’t make sense. 

 “They’re more catty.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

 “Dad! That’s verging on sexist.” 

 “Eh, I don’t know. I’m just saying things. Did you tell Mom you want to quit?” 

 I shook my head. 

 “Yeah…” he looked out at the boats, a quiet understanding passing between us. “She was really excited for you to join.” 

 “It’s not all bad…” 

 “Well if it’s not making you happy, don’t do it. Your mom doesn’t want you doing anything you don’t want to do. I was in a frat to shoot the shit with friends and it was something fun to do instead of study. If it’s not something fun for you, drop it.” 

 I could hear the words he was telling me, but it was like they were rolling off my shoulders, not really penetrating. He made it sound so easy, but it seemed like it was a million times harder than that. Everything was entangled, just as Harry had said. Not to mention Renny. If I quit, I felt like I’d lose her forever, too. I knew I could use a better friend, but that couldn’t erase the years of memories we had together. Losing Renny would feel like losing a part of myself. Not that I knew who that was anymore. 

 “Dad?” I asked. The question that'd weighed on my mind ever since I got home rested on the tip of my tongue. 

 “Yeah?” 

 “This is going to sound weird, but did you see Harry today?” 

 “Yeah. He stopped by,” he said, casually, spooning another mouthful. 

 I practically choked. “What? Why?! Weren’t you going to tell me?” 

 “Y/N, I’m working. I have a thousand things bouncing around in my head all the time.”

 “And?!!?”

 Harry couldn’t reach out to me beforehand? He drove by but- what? Didn’t even want to see me? 

 He sighed, not understanding the urgency. “He just stopped by, said hi. That’s all.” 

 My brows stitched. “Why would he say hi to you? What’d he say, exactly?” 

 “Oh, come on, I don’t know. I can’t remember-”

 “Dad!” 

 “All right, all right. Hi, how are you…” -his brain tried to remember- “he asked if you were doing okay. Then he left. He was nearby for a family brunch or something.” 

 “He asked about me?” 

 “Yeah. I mean, he didn’t go on and on, he just asked a question. He was in a rush.” 

 The shake froze me from the inside, and the breeze froze me from the out. But while I shriveled into myself, my guilt grew. “Dad?” 

 He hummed. 

 “Why are people so fake?” 

 He looked out at the harbor, peaceful for a winter’s morning. Only one small fishing boat headed towards the harbor’s edge, the sole fisherman at the helm facing the wind with the grace of a husband dealing with a temperamental spouse. 

 Father looked to our shoes as a random swell came, the water rising perilously close to our soles. Then, with all the untapped wisdom I seldom remembered parents had, “People are fake because they don’t know who they are,” he said.

 He got a call from the restaurant and drove us home. 

 In bed the next day, I ignored the pros/cons assignment, watching New Girl and making collages of Oxford in a word document until my eyes were burning from blue light exposure. I knew I was pushing it staying this long away from school, away from my problems. I was pushing myself, seeing how far my apathy could go. I woke up Thursday night at 2 AM from the rain pouring against my shutter and anger pricking my insides. 

 Harry was the reason I was in this position. As well as Viv, who fucked Harry. And Kiki, who gave me a DG Pretty Please, that just so happened to involve Harry. 

 I wanted him, but I wanted him to fuck off. Nothing was changing. Nothing was getting better. 

 It was all Harry, Harry, Harry, and no matter what, I ended up feeling insane.  

 At one point, I was going to have to choose myself. 

 I rolled over, blindly reaching for a pen, and scribbled in the dark. 

 If my therapist wanted a list, she’d get one helluva list. 

 -----------

“I’m glad you’re going, honey.” Mom released me from the lung-crushing hug. 

 I’d created enough Oxford collages and daydreamed about a new life until I couldn’t think of any other imaginary scenarios (or postpone collegiate life any longer). 

 The Friday sun had set. The game had already started. I thought about the crowd, all the people I’d see… 

 “Can I just stay the weekend?” 

 “Oh.” Her arms dropped from my sides. “Didn’t you promise your friends that you’d go?” 

 Renny. I’d promised Renny. Singular friend. My hand was in a fist, thumb rubbing anxiously over my fingers. I didn’t listen to her voicemails, there were seven of them. But she’d texted me fifty times in the past twenty minutes, declaring that she’d Venmo me gas money if I’d come to the game. 

 I’d been in my hole long enough. 

 “Yeah, I did.”

 “Well, you COULD stay-”

 I broke away, shaking my head. If I let her coddle me another minute, I think I’d crumble all over again. 

 “I love you,” she reminded me. “You’re my precious angel.” 

 From the living room, the muffled applause from the game show Father had fallen asleep to faded further as I left. 

 Momma’s robe-bundled frame waved on the driveway, her sad smile burning in my mind long after she disappeared from view.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

 Come on, come on, come ON. 

 The path to the stadium took forever. No shame, I was full-on running, braless, fresh pit-stains on display as I booked it to the gate. 

 It was completely dark now, and the usual fleet of cop cars seemed to have all but disappeared the week I’d been gone. Only one passed me by, and the rest of the student body probably all congregated around the stadium. 

 When I saw the art studio, I slowed. It was completely dark, except for one entry light. The paintings would still be displayed... My pounding heart told me to keep running, and I hesitated, listening to it for a moment before walking to the door. I tugged on its metal handles, parts of me seizing up as it opened, giving way to my touch. 

 I crept into the space, feeling like an intruder as I walked through the exhibit. 

 For some reason, I expected it to look differently, to see it blurred together as I’d seen it before in a panic. 

 I was still hanging amidst the vines, but this time the paintings looked less threatening. Maybe it was the fact that I was alone, maybe it was because I’d already felt the worst of it. 

 Each piece was sold. 

 I looked over my shoulder a couple times before letting out a small shout. A tester. 

 It echoed in the space. 

 I did it again, louder, at my full about-to-be-murdered capacity.

 I must’ve looked absolutely mental, but as I heard my shout reverberate around me, at least I felt something.  

 Five charcoal sketches in particular ran horizontally together. 

 Lust / Longing / Love / Lost / Loss

 Had he seen all of this in me? He’d certainly seen other bits I hadn’t shown him. 

 My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out. Renny. Without thought, I started her stream of voicemails.

 Y/N where the FUCK are you!? Zayn’s concerned and I’m concerned and you’re not in the room-

 Next. 

 Are you really sick? Or is this just some BS excuse. Or is this real and Harry gave you tonsilitis or something. I want to hear your voice. Ilyyyyy. 

 Next. 

 It’s meeeeee. Niall’s busy and you’re sick and I don’t know what to dooooo. Housewives isn’t as fun without-

 Next.

 BABE WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING ME CALLS DO YOU HATE ME, AND YES I MEANT TO SAY ME INSTEAD OF MY I HOPE YOU’RE LAUGHING-

 Next.

 DUDE. You will not believe what just happened- Harry just stopped by. 

 My thumb paused, letting it stay. 

 I was avoiding his texts because I think he’s a dick. Well, he IS a dick, even if Niall said he was going through a lot. It’s still not an excuse. But Harry LEGIT found me on campus, like not even when I was with Niall at the house, but at our APARTMENT...I-hold on. Ew, pastrami professor just passed me. What are the odds? OKAY BUT SERIOUSLY, I almost punched him when I opened the door because remember last time he basically told me off. But… I don’t know. It was different this time. He seemed… so concerned. Frazzled. I don’t even know the word to describe it. Ugh, if you were here you would be able to TELL ME what the word is. I miss you. Come back. 

 The voicemail rolled into the next. 

 I’m just pretending to talk on the phone right now because the boy I hooked up with last year is staring me THE FUCK down right now-

 A creak in the pipes startled me, and the voicemail was all but forgotten. 

 My heart beat fast. 

 It was very, very quiet. 

 With one noise in the dark, the art pieces turned menacing. An oil painting in the corner of the room morphed into the Styles’ portrait. It wasn’t here. It couldn’t be here. I squinted, blinking through the dark. The portrait I thought I’d seen was just a painting of two silhouetted men facing each other. My heart still beat like I’d just ran a marathon though. I wasn’t about to be a part of the next horror movie “art comes alive.” 

 I booked it out faster than I came, answering Renny’s call on the way. 

 ---------

“Thank fucking finally,” Renny huffed, leaning over Lynn to draw me in a hug.

 “You didn’t miss much,” Lynn said, looking past me towards the game. I sat on Renny’s other side so she was in the middle, but when I looked at the scoreboard - Home, zero. Guest, two - I knew it was a done deal. Some people had already left, but half the stadium was still here, either hoping for a miraculous recovery or refusing to put their tails between their legs for pride’s sake. I noticed a group of parents in Chapman gear huddled together, waving their flags. No Mary or Lionel Styles in sight. 

 “How’s he been?” I asked. It’s like my head already knew where to turn, because as soon as I looked to the field, I found him. On the bench, elbows on his knees, head bent over.  

 “How’ve YOU been?” Renny asked. “I was seriously about to drive over to your house and check on you.” 

 Someone beat you to it. The thought was sour. For as much as Renny could claim her undying love for me, I was struggling to see the actions to support it. Everyone was disappointing. 

 “He’s been playing like shit,” Lynn answered.  

 “Brought back some...” His sentence died. Of all people, Zayn stood there, stopped, popcorn in hand. “Hey, Y/N.” 

 Felix stood behind Zayn, giving me a small wave. Zayn was clearly waiting for me to make the first move, but I turned away to the field. I didn’t know what to say. 

 From my peripheral, I saw them sit down by Lynn. 

 As soon as he did, it hit me like a flashfood. I knew what I was feeling. Anger. Discomfort. Shame. That he could expose me so easily, that he’d looked through my clothes in a way I never permitted. That he could sit down so comfortably without apologizing, as if nothing had happened. 

 Renny leaned in. “Are you okay?” 

 “No.”

 She flinched at the abrupt answer. “Do you want to leave?” 

 I stopped myself from saying yes. I didn’t want to have to climb over Zayn to get out of here. That would be more than uncomfortable. 

 “No, I’ll tell you later.” 

 I didn’t speak the rest of the game, pretending not to hear him cheer or laugh or make a snide remark to Felix every other second. Like the annoying click of a fan when you’re trying to fall asleep, Zayn’s every move made anger shake my bones. Lynn gave me sympathy looks every once in a while. It wasn’t like me to be this quiet, and even with our friendship being as new as it was, she knew that much. 

 The crowd didn’t roar this time. They were silent as the clock hit zero, staring blatantly at its twin beneath Home. The Guest team’s few Minnesota supporters jumped like little beans on the other side of the field, but their cries were faint. 

 We’d lost. 

 Everyone stood, and Renny linked her arm with mine. A familiar habit. “We’re going to Viv’s for some post-game depression drinks now.” 

 But I stopped her. 

 “I think I want to go back to the room,” I winced. 

 “Come on, PLEASE? It’ll be fun, you were barely here for the game.” 

 “I don’t know, depression and Viv in the same sentence… You really know how to sell a party.” 

 “Aren’t you coming, Y/N?” Lynn made moves to follow the rest of the crowd that was funneling out of the stands.  

 I shook my head at the same time Renny nodded hers. 

 She huffed. “Why not? It’s going to be chill. We lost. It’s not going to be like the usual ragers.” She popped her hip, completely deadpanned. “You haven’t seen another college-aged person in a week.” 

 “Yeah and there’s a reason for that.” 

 Concern washed over her, voice lowering. “Tell me.” 

 As if on cue, Zayn and Felix stopped their descent down the bleachers and looked up at the girls, waiting for them to join. It was all I could do to not scream at them. 

 “Later,” I said. “You’re leaving now.” 

 “I don’t have to leave right now, it’s not starting yet...” Renny began, but Lynn gave her a look that said yes, they were leaving now. 

 “She wants us to help set-up,” Lynn explained. 

 “But it’s a small thing, right?” I teased Renny. 

 My bestie rolled her eyes, lips pinching. “Are you SURE?” 

 I nodded, sitting down on the cool metal bleacher again. Renny took a step towards me, a sad look on her face, but I held up my hand. 

 “I’m fine,” I said, when I felt anything but. “I just want to wait until the crowd leaves.” I picked up the popcorn bag she’d left behind and threw a handful in my mouth with a cheesy, hopefully convincing grin.

 She grimaced, briefly looking back to Lynn who was anxiously waiting. “Fine. But we’re still talking about this later. I friggin miss you.”

 She left with the others, funneling out towards a party she’d probably stay at until the early morning. 

 I didn’t want to go back to the room. I didn’t want to go anywhere. 

 The lights were so bright on soccer fields. Bugs flew in and around, racing each other faster than the dust in my room. It wasn’t until the janitors walked past me that I realized I’d been sitting there for too long. I reached in the popcorn bag, but my hand came up empty. They’d gone overboard on the salty butter, but somehow, I’d still managed to eat all of it. 

 Even with everyone off the field though, I didn’t feel alone. An older Hispanic woman taking out the trash saw me walking down and opened up the bag. 

 “Thank you,” I said, smiling. 

 She just smiled in return, nodding her head as she continued down the aisle.

 Leaving the field’s gates, I was prepping for another mini run-for-my-life-and-back-to-the-dorm anxiety episode, when I heard someone shuffling. There were faint groaning noises, and I sped up my pace. 

 For a flash second, I thought someone was winning the “sleep in the locker room” bet, but when I tossed my head-back mid-run, I stopped so quickly, I almost tripped. 

 “Harry?” 

 There, in the dark, barely concealed by the shadows, he stumbled out. His abdomen looked… glossy? But then the light reflected crimson. 

 I ran to him as he fell, his white jersey stained with blood. “Oh my God, oh my God…” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “What happened?! Are you okay!?” 

 He pushed me back. “M’fine.” But his voice was strained. He stumbled again, and I reached out before he fell. 

 I thought the blood from his shirt had fallen from a bloody nose, but his hand moved to my arm in a vice-like grip, revealing a gash in his jersey, I saw more liquid pool out from his gut and I almost gagged. 

 “You are BEYOND fine. You aren’t fucking fine!!” 

 “We have to leave. Have to… get out of here.” He grimaced. His face, his beautifully chiselled face was swollen on one side, his lip cut from impact. 

 “Okay. OKAY. I need to call the cops. The cops. I’m going to call them.” Shaky hands took out the cellphone, but he threw it down. “HARRY!” 

 “Take me to the physical therapy room?” 

 I looked at his chest. “You’re bleeding. A LOT.” My free arm reached for the tossed phone, but he tugged me back. 

 “No. They’ll write a report. I can’t have a-” he winced, sucking in a breath, and I reached for the phone again. “DON’T. Fucking hell. Don’t call anyone.”

 My eyes racked his frame again, and I immediately applied pressure to his ab area, right where the gash was. He sucked in a breath, unleashing a string of curses I couldn’t hear right now. “Oh my God,” I breathed. 

 “Answer me,” he growled. 

 My mind scrambled for his question… he wanted me to take him to the physical therapy room.  “YES! Yes. I have the- fuck, yes, I know where the keys are.” I looked at him again. What the FUCK.

 “Stop freaking out,” he grunted, but he weakened the next second, his eyes fluttering before coming back to me. 

 “Okay, hold on. Hold onto me. Keep applying pressure.” 

 The physical therapy room wasn’t too far, bits of blood that’d fallen to his shoes marking our path.

 “Why aren’t all the cops here?” 

 “They’re on rotation. The parties... they’llbestationedthere-JESUS.” We paused, letting him catch his breath. But it was shallow. Too shallow. 

 “Can you wait here for a second?” I asked.

 He nodded, resting against a lamp post. 

 I hurried to the lockbox located behind the planter, punching in the code and unlocking it at lightning’s speed. 

 I didn’t know if there were cameras. I didn’t know if this was illegal. 

 I didn’t care.

 We made it through the doors, and he was just about to sit on the table when- 

 “WAIT!” I ran to grab several rags and laid it beneath him before heaving him up. The soft cry he made when sitting down was like a knife through my own chest. 

 I grabbed scissors, cutting his t-shirt. I didn’t have time to linger, I didn’t have time to notice the way his tattoos were completely concealed by a red current. There were two wounds. One, deeper, the other, more shallow. Both in the lower left abdomen, just above a prominent v-line.  

 I wiped around the area, pausing above the gashes. “This is going to sting,” I warned. 

 There wasn’t fear in his eyes. He watched me, and I, him, as I pressed it against the open skin. He trembled, wincing, mouth opening in silent exclamation.  

 “You’re doing good,” I whispered. 

 “So are you,” he gritted out. 

 I swallowed, reaching for the butterfly bandages. But as soon as I did, more blood rushed out. I held a rag to him. “Save your breath. You need it.”

 The thin white bandages seemed too little in the wake of his wound, and just as one bandage was placed, he cringed away, regretting his decision to move almost immediately.

 “Fucking hurts,” he groaned. 

 “Stop moving! I need to close the wound up. You’re bleeding too much.” 

 “Y/N, just take me home. Call Lionel,” he panted. 

 “I’m calling 911 if you don’t let me at least attempt to close this wound because if we leave now you’ll bleed out.” 

 “You’ve done enough, please-”

 “STOP. TALKING. I’ll call him after.” He saw a flame behind my eyes, and quieted, too weak to protest much more anyway. I came closer, and this time he didn’t flinch. The butterfly bandages at least minimally shrunk the open gouges. 

 With no other choice, I left him there alone, running across campus to my car and driving back in less than five minutes. It was illegal to drive through student walkways, let alone drive 60 mph, but there wasn’t a choice. I kept picturing Harry passing out, his limp God-like body, turned mortal, weak, bleeding out all over the training room floor. My foot hit the gas pedal harder. I could’ve been a damn marathon winner/race car driver. Let the cops add “speeding” to the file they already had on me. 

 Once we were both in the car, I looked over at him every two seconds. An entire roll of tight gauze around his abdomen kept the wound from bleeding out, but it was still turning pink. It was the second time blood would have been on my car. 

 Of all the revenge daydreams I’d had, I would’ve settled for Harry seeing me make out with Andre on the dancefloor over THIS. Would he die in my car? Would I be responsible?? I looked at the cheesy Angel pin my mom had given me for my car mirror. Never Fly Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly. Where was my angel now?? 

 “Where are we going?” He asked, between fading in and out.

 “To your house.” 

 His hand grabbed mine on the wheel and I practically swerved into the center divider from shock. 

 “HARRY!” 

 “We need to go to my house,” he said suddenly, panicked, as if I’d told him the opposite. 

 I placed our interlocked hands above the console. A safe distance away from the wheel in case he lurched again. 

 “Don’t worry, we’re going there. We’re going to your house. You’re just in shock, it’s okay,” I cooed, but it was desperate. And it was definitely not okay. 

 “They’ll ask… less..less questions...” 

 His grip was unbearably tight for three long seconds before it relaxed. 

 “Stay with me. Stay awake,” I urged. Harry’s lids kept drooping and I was desperate, blasting the Air Conditioning to an uncomfortable temperature. 

 Lionel picked up on the second ring. 

 “It’s Y/N. I think Harry’s been stabbed-” 

 “What?!” 

 “- I told him we should call the cops, but he was adamant we call you instead.” 

 “Seal the wound with whatever you can-”

 “I did that. Not well, we didn’t have wound sealant- Okay, I’m rambling. I don’t know what to do, but he needs to see a doctor. Immediately.” 

 There was a long pause. 

 “Hello?” my voice wavered. 

 “Bring him to the practice.” The voice over the other line was that of a doctor, matter-of-fact, somber. 

 Hoag Hospital passed me, a nagging thought telling me that’s where we should be going - where there was paperwork, evidence, some legitimate accountability. But I wasn’t his father. I wasn’t responsible. 

 “On my way. I’m getting off the freeway now.” 

 The call ended, and as I looked at Harry, fading dangerously out of consciousness, my hands trembled more from fear than cold. Out of all the reactions, I hadn’t expected this one. The voice on the other line hadn’t seemed surprised at all. 

come talk to me about the chappie or just about how you’re doing! now’s the time to stay connected :) 

[babi-correia]

Guardian Angel

Words: 3083

Pairing: Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, drug abuse, poorly written medical stuff and PTSD.

From Anon:

“Hi there, can I get a Greg Gerwitz x reader, please? So reader and Jay are cousins and when Jay enlists, he starts writing about his friend Mouse so reader when sending care packages will always include things for Mouse and when Jay came back for his mum's funeral, Mouse came with and he falls for reader and vice versa but remained friends while he's in the rangers still. When he was discharged and eventually involved in some shady shit, it was the reader who gets him back on track. Thank you x”

Here you go, kind friend.

[(Y/N/N)=Your Nickname]

One thing you knew for sure: nothing in your life could have possibly prepared you for the moment when your cousin, Jay, had been deployed to Afghanistan. His mother, your own mother's sister, was devastated, but his father had shown nothing but anger and disapproval at his career choice, as he had with Will. It seemed like no matter what, the man would never approve or support either of his sons, and it annoyed you to no end. So, logically, when he went away you took it upon yourself to make sure he knew that at least one person back home cared about him and wasn't completely repealing him. 

He mentions his friend and teammate Greg Gerwitz in one of his first letters, as Jay had taken to personally protect Greg, as he was a very valuable communications expert; although you could read right through that Jay began projecting himself as an older brother for Greg, who he affectionately called "Mouse". From Jay's reaction, you gather that Greg probably didn't have that much of a support network back home, or any at all, other than Jay, so you include him as well in your silly little personal mission.

The first care package goes out a month into their deployment, filled with energy bars, sunblock, beef jerky, some pain-relieving topical cream, and deodorant, along with a picture of you, your mom, and Jay's mom holding a sign saying "Counting the days for the two of you to be back". It finds them well, and Jay's letter is full of little round wrinkly spots when you open it, its' content nothing but praise for the care package. He writes that Greg cried like a baby when Jay told him that the packed box was for the both of them and not just him. 

--

When you have to write to Jay about his mom's illness, it breaks you. Your whole purpose with the letters and care packages was to brighten their mood, often including bad jokes you had happened to hear and you knew they would get a kick out of because of how bad they were. But you had to tell him. You end up rewriting the letter more times than you cared to count, searching for the best way to say "hey, your mom's dying". This time, it's your letter that's filled with little round wrinkly spots when you seal the envelope. 

Jay's response takes its' time, and comes right in the week of your exams. Between helping your aunt and studying to get a decent internship, you were left with very little time to do anything else other than sleep and eat. You put a hold on the anatomy book you're studying, deciding to pick it up after you prepare everything to do with Jay and Greg, refusing to let them go without a letter or care package. You fill the letter with crappy jokes and complaints about how dumb you were to want to become a doctor, because clearly, the exams were driving you mad. You try to put some hope in the letter, saying that Jay's mom looks better than before. 

--

The next month makes you nearly drop out. Your aunt's condition worsens too fast for there to be anything left to do, and you have to be the one to let Jay know that his mom died because dear old Pat could still not be bothered to talk to his son. 

You manage to catch one of your dad's old army buddies, one who is still in the military, and make him pull some strings to get both Jay and Greg back in US soil for the funeral. 

You pick them up at the airport, noticing how thinner Jay is, how his face looks so sunken, how he looks almost broken. He barely has time to drop his duffle bag before you wrap him in a hug as tight as you can give. He hugs you back before backing away and wiping his eyes.

"(Y/N), this is Mouse. Mouse, this is (Y/N), the angel that has been sending us goodies." Jay introduces. Greg goes to shake your hand but you hug him, feeling him reluctantly hug you back. 

"I wish we had met under better circumstances." You say to Greg, pulling away from a hug and giving him a tired smile. "We should get back, you can still catch the wake, Jay."

The car ride is silent, and you can't find it in you to say anything at all. You pull up to the mortuary house, parking the car and taking a deep breath. 

"You want me to go in with you?" You ask, seeing how Jay is looking out the window. 

"No, I think it's better if I go in alone." He says before pausing. "Is Pat in there?"

"No. We haven't seen much of Pat lately." You admit, knowing Jay knew how much you despised his father.

He exits the car and you sit in silence, Greg still in the back seat. It takes a while before he breaks the ice.

"So... Jay tells me you want to be a doctor?" He asks meekly, his eyes on everything but you. 

"I do. I'm about to start my residency, hopefully at a big hospital like Chicago Med." You say, the usual excitement that comes paired with your passion and the opportunity to talk about it significantly dulled. 

"What's your expertise?"

"I'm going for trauma surgery." You say, turning around in your seat to face Greg. 

His heart skips a beat when his eyes finally meet yours. No one in his life had ever looked at him with the sheer kindness you did. He had grown a crush on you without knowing you at all, and seeing you look at him like that only reinforced it. 

"Look, I just want to say thank you for including me in the care packages." He manages, breaking eye contact and looking at his hands, which rest atop his knees. He can barely mask the gasp he makes when you put one of your hands over one of his and give him a reassuring squeeze. 

"It's my pleasure." You say, greeting him with a smile when he finally looks at you again. "I enjoy doing it, and it makes me feel better about the whole deployment situation that I can at least give you guys something to brighten your day."

Over the next couple of days, you just chat your mind out to Greg and read your medicine books to him, sometimes making him quiz you on the subjects. He generally looks confused, but he also seems happy to help you. It makes him giddy on the inside to see how much you know about whatever he's quizzing you about, and the focused yet excited look on your face makes his heart flutter. It's only during the night before they fly back that he realizes: he's head over heels for you.

You wake up ridiculously early the morning of their flight; well, you don't wake up, you just get out of bed, because sleep had ever so expertly evaded you due to your overthinking of what would happen to Jay and Greg back in Afghanistan. Your mind keeps racing, running multiple scenarios but not seeing a positive outcome in none of them. And even though of course you worried deeply about Jay, since he was your cousin and you two grew up together, your stomach twisted in itself at the thought of Greg getting hurt. 

You slowly realize that you had begun to harbor feelings for the man, and your mind reels. You hide your face on your hands as you try to process everything before you give up and go out to sit in your back yard and stare at the sky. 

You take them to the airport at around 5 am, the drive there being awfully silent. You feel the tears prickling at your eyes as you drive the car and grip the steering wheel with everything you have. You could tell Greg about how you felt, but you couldn't handle the fact that he was going back when he was barely your friend, much less if you uncovered your feelings. Besides, nothing guarantees you that he would like you back, so you decide to keep your mouth shut. 

You bid your goodbyes and hug the two men outside the airport, your hug with Greg taking a little longer than it should - not that he seemed to mind. They head inside and you return to your car, sitting behind the wheel and crying all of your emotions out. When you look back to maneuver your car, you notice something glinting in the back seat and pick it up. The small metal plate is cold in your hand, and you notice a little post-it attached. 

"Thank you for caring so much about someone you know so little about. Please don't forget about me."

You turn it around and see the engraving: Gregory Gerwitz. Tears well up in your eyes again, and you hold the dog-tag to your chest, closing your eyes.

--

You keep sending them letters and care packages as part of your routine, sometimes struggling to get time to do it. You had managed to land your internship on Med, and they liked you enough to keep you around as an ED doctor. 

On your day off, just as you're about to head off into the grocery shop to gather goodies for the next care package, your doorbell rings and you open the door to find your supposedly deployed cousin.

"Jay!?" Your voice is squeaky, but you can't find it in you to care. "What are you doing here?" 

You hug him carefully, noticing some cuts and bruises on his face and arms. He hugs you back and lifts you slightly. 

"I was medically discharged a few weeks ago, I've been crashing at a friend's but I owed you to come here." He explains as you guide him inside. "Also, I need your help with something."

"What's wrong?" You ask, sitting beside him on the couch. He points at your chest, where the dog tag rests, hanging from a simple chain. 

"It's about Mouse. He isn't taking it well and I'm afraid he's going to do something that's gonna hurt him." Jay sighs. "He really likes you, but he doesn't think of himself as deserving of someone that cares about him and wants to help."

"Where can I find him?" You ask, feeling your chest tightening. 

"Not even I know that, but as soon as I find out I'll let you know." He stays, prompting himself to get up. "By the way, I'm in the police academy and it'd mean a lot to me if you could attend my graduation in a few months."

"Of course!" You beam at him before hugging him. "Just let me know when, and I'll ask for the day off."

--

After your conversation with Jay, you can't bring yourself to stop thinking about Greg and how he's doing. One day, you're getting in your car to get home after a shift when you get a call from Jay.

"Yes?" You answer your phone.

"(Y/N), I need you to come to your house quickly." Jay's voice seems distressed. "It's Greg, I have no idea what happened."

You make the drive back in record time, grabbing the emergency medical kit from under the passenger seat before rushing inside. You notice Jay has used the spare key you gave him to get inside, finding him and Greg on the floor of your bathroom. 

Your heart drops and you join them on the floor, quickly assessing Greg; his skin is cold and clammy, his breathing and heart rate slow, and he seems to be slipping in and out of consciousness. 

"He's overdosing on opioids." You realize aloud, quickly opening your medical kit and retrieving a small vial and a syringe. Jay watches you as you charge the syringe and push out the air before administering it. 

"What is that?" He asks, watching as you set the syringe on the bathroom counter.

"Naloxone. It reverses opioid overdoses, technically." You say, observing Greg's reaction. "We have to get him to a hospital, Jay."

"No, that may screw whatever little chance he still has at getting a job." 

You shake your head as you move your hand to gage Greg's heart rate, noticing it seemed to pick up a bit.

"Let's see how he progresses. If I don't like anything in how he develops, I'm taking him to the hospital, and that's not debatable." You state, moving behind Greg and sitting him up, noticing as he begins to shiver. You lean his back against your chest as he begins to move slightly. "Stay still for a bit, Greg. Please."

You feel him tense up, his breathing labored. He looks at Jay, who shakes his head.

"I don't know what's going on Mouse, but you need to get it together." Jay says, his face serious as he gets up. "I have to get to the academy, but I'll come by later."

You hear the front door shut as Jay leaves, and just sit on the floor in silence for a while. 

"What's going on, Greg?" You ask, your voice barely a whisper. He feels his chest tightening at your sad and defeated tone. This was exactly why he didn't want to come to you, he was a broken man and he knew you'd be disappointed in him. "Why didn't you ask for help?"

He doesn't even have a chance to respond before he scrambles forward and wretches into the toilet. You just brush your hand up and down his back, feeling him shake as he starts to cry. 

You wet a towel and run it through his face to wipe the sweat gathering on his forehead. You hook your arms around his chest and help him rise to his feet, supporting most of his weight. 

"Can you work with me and get to the living room? We'll be more comfortable there." You ask softly, holding him up and helping him move to the living room. You sit him down on the couch and take a seat next to him, wiping some hair sticking to his forehead. You take one of his hands in yours, and his heart just about shatters when he sees the look you give him: it's still the same pure kindness from the first time the two of you met. 

"I didn't want to disappoint you." His voice is barely a whisper, and your brows knit in confusion. "I'm not the same person from when we first met, I've gone down a dark path, I didn't want to disappoint you or get you involved."

"Greg, you'd never disappoint me." You say, your voice soft. "It's normal, it's a whole different reality. I'm here to help you however I can."

You hug him and cradle him against your chest, his arms snaking around you to hold as tight as he can. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He mumbles, his voice shaking. You rest your chin atop his head and caress his back as he keeps on trembling. "I should've come to you sooner, I should have told you about everything a lot sooner." 

"All that matters is that you're ok, Greg." You whisper, holding him. "We can work on this from now on. You're not alone."

--

You end up offering Greg the spare bedroom on your house, on the condition that he must stay clean and out of trouble, and at least try to get a legitimate job. 

One day you get home after working a double shift, your head pounding and your emotions all over the place: you had lost a patient. You know that there wasn't anything you could have done, but that doesn't make you feel less shitty. Entering the house, you make a beeline for the living room and flop face-first into the couch, laying there for a while without moving.

"Hey (Y/N/N), you ok?" You hear Greg's voice as he kneels next to you. You turn your head to face him and he sees the tears in your eyes. "Woah, what's wrong?"

"I lost a patient today. Nice old lady, came in because she slipped and fell on the icy street, hit her head pretty nastily. She was talking when she got there, but then she passed out and just like that she was gone." You vent, tears streaming down your face. Greg holds your hand and rubs it softly. "I just wish there had been something I could have done for her."

"You have a heart of gold, you know that?" He says, pushing some hair out of your face. "You can't save everyone... Just cherish the ones you did save, like me for example."

He always jokes around about you saving him, but it was the truth; without you, he'd probably be dead in an alley somewhere. 

"I think it's mutual saving." You whisper, smiling at him. "I would probably have gone mad by now if you weren't around."

You maneuver yourself and sit normally on the couch, and he sits next to you, pulling you into a hug. 

"It's a nice little deal we have, then." He says, holding you to him. You nod, eventually separating from him. "I still think you're my private guardian angel."

You laugh at him, and his belief solidifies further: to him, you were exactly like an angel, from your laugh to your personality to your selflessness, and you had given him a second chance at life. 

Before either of you realize what's going on, he leans in and cups your face, resting his forehead against yours. You can feel his breath on your face as you take in the beautiful blueness of his eyes. 

"If you don't want it, say so." He whispers, his eyes riddled with both fear and excitement. Your heart beats out of your chest as you close the space between you and kiss him, feeling him smile against your lips. It's short and chaste and sweet, but it's everything you had imagined. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that."

You laugh, cupping his face as you kiss him again, the two of you giggling like a pair of kids and forgetting everything else in the world other than the moment that you were having.

[wonderlustlucas]

i hemoglobin you - byun baekhyun

⇢ prompt “Yeah, but Baekhyun doesn’t really talk romantics with me.” ⇢ pairing baekhyun x gender neutral reader ⇢ word count 4.8k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings swearing. kinda descriptive when it comes to the actual needle idk i’m bad at warnings if needles make u uncomfy don’t read. ⇢ summary You’d think, after some time, your crush on the annoying little shit named Byun Baekhyun would fade away. Fortunately for him (and you), falling out of love with someone brighter than a star is near impossible. Plus, needles are scary and even med kids need their hand held sometimes. Alternatively: Junmyeon found dead in a ditch.—friends to lovers!au ; college blood drive!au ⇢ a/n ok yes i realize this is an odd setting for fanfiction but like,,, my school had a blood drive & what happens in this is exactly what i experienced, minus the whole crush revealing they like me with a kiss thing. so i decided to WRITE IT OKAY?! also, i really tried to make this gender, color, absolutely everything reader neutral but then when i was editing i saw the nurse call y/n ‘miss’ so if i missed anything pls lmk so i can edit it!!! thank u & i hope u enjoy ♥︎

If it weren’t for that time you tried anal with your ex-boyfriend back in high school, you’d consider Byun Baekhyun to be the biggest pain in your ass. If asked, you definitely could come up with a hefty list of all the things about him that annoy the living daylights out of you, things from the unnecessary high volume of his voice to the time he introduced himself as “Bacon” on the first day of your internship at the hospital.

Truthfully, however, it all comes down to one certain realization: seeing Baekhyun’s stupidly cute smile has become the sole thing you look forward to everyday. For the first two years at university, you did not know Byun Baekhyun. You knew of him. As fate would have it, you were bound to meet at some point with an undergraduate enrollment of around four thousand, and your sanity began its downward tumble the third week of junior year.

At the time, you couldn’t quite put your finger on why he left such a sour taste in your mouth. From a distance, he was a star; this great, big bundle of sunshine and joy, full of life and spirit and in the eyes of someone as mild-mannered as yourself, he was magnificent and everything you wished you were. But, once the barrier between you fell and your relationship swiftly jumped from strangers to friends, you realized just how polar opposite you were. Always going out of his way to meet new people and a little too chaotic for you personally, Baekhyun draws attention to himself without even trying. And you can’t blame him— it’s hard to go unnoticed when you prance around with a thousand-watt smile and the energy of a three-month-old golden retriever.

Sometimes, you wished he had chosen one of the arts as his major rather than health sciences.

Nevertheless, it is hard to ignore such an innocently beautiful soul such as Baekhyun. No matter how many times you told yourself to find a new lab partner, no matter how many countless nights you found yourself rolling out of bed, bundled up in your blankets and into the cold hallway of your residence hall to knock on Park Chanyeol’s door and tell him to open the window for his frost-bitten roommate hiding in the bushes, no matter how many this or how many that’s, you couldn’t help but fall in love with the friendship and chaos that came with Byun Baekhyun.

If it weren’t for that time you tried anal with your ex-boyfriend back in high school, you’d consider Byun Baekhyun to be the love of your life.

“Absolutely not,” you interrupt, looking up from your clipboard in order to search the crowd for the younger boy. Baekhyun groans, wrapping his arms around your waist and dropping his head on your shoulder. “C’mon, ___. He’s fine, you know Sehun.” He whines, adding a drawn-out ‘please’ against your ear. It makes your stomach sink for reasons you’d rather not disclose.

“Baek,” you scoff, wiggling out of his grip despite his best efforts of keeping you against him, “are you serious? Sehun quite possibly may be the smallest person in this room. He needs to rest.”

“He’s twenty pounds heavier than me!”

“Taller, too.”

“___,” he groans, crossing his arms over his chest and mustering his best straight face. It makes you laugh.

“I’m not arguing with you. He did Power Red; he’s not going anywhere. If he didn’t want to miss chem, then he should have made his appointment later. It’s one class. He’ll be fine.”

“Why must you be so stubborn?” Baekhyun sighs in defeat, combing muted silver hair away from his forehead. Your eyes follow the movement, distracted for hardly a second, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “I learned it from you,” you smile, nudging his arm with your elbow. The signature tilted smirk returns. “Tell Sehun I’m sorry, but I—well, we—can’t risk letting him leave. He could have a delayed effect and end up passed out in the staircase. Twenty more minutes and he can go.”

“I get it,” he hums, snatching the tentative schedule out of your hands before you can even protest. For as rash as he may be, Baekhyun is not dumb. And even if he was, he knows that when you are as unrelenting as you are now, there’s no point in arguing. “I think I’m gonna try and donate.”

“What?” You exclaim, maybe a little too loud if all the Red Cross employees shooting annoyed glares your way is anything to go by. Baekhyun truly is started to rub off on you. “I thought you were scared of needles?”

“Heights, ___,” he scoffs, “needles aren’t my favorite, but if I’m going to eventually put them in other people, I better get used to them for myself.” As he explains, he rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie and presses at the soft skin on the inside of his arm before stretching it out for your examination. “I mean,” you hum, holding him still and feeling around for a thick enough vein, “you definitely have the veins. Do you want me to hold your hand?” You sing the last part cutely, lips puckered out at him.

“Will you? Since Sehun has to stay over there, I have no one else,” Baekhyun retorts, using your previous resolve to his advantage. You can’t tell if he’s oblivious or simply choosing to ignore your mockery. Rolling your eyes, you drop his arm and reach for your clipboard, tearing it out of his grasp. “Don’t you have anything else better to do than annoy me? Aren’t you supposed to be watching the donors?”

“Well, yes, but—”

Baekhyun starts, trailing behind you before the shout of his name promptly cuts him off. “Baekhyun! Can you help Jongdae carry in more water?” See, precisely as you were saying.

“But I like annoying you,” he pouts, hugging onto your arm and holding on tight. “Sorry, Baek,” you offer, feelings in shambles because 1) he is so cute you could cry but 2) he’s really distracting and now you finally will be able to focus, at least while he’s gone. Frowning, he releases your arm at last, combing his hair back and once again, you feel like throwing up.

“Go see if you can donate when you’re done,” you remind him, nodding toward the rather quiet donor room. “Yeah, I will. Wish me luck,” Baekhyun grins, blowing you a kiss. Without a second thought, you blow one back.

You have begun walking on an incredibly unstable rope, you realize, the thin line distinguishing the way you look at Baekhyun diminishing each and every day. On one side, he is simply your friend, your lab partner, a coworker of sorts. Comrades working toward the same goal, and once it’s reached, you go your separate ways. But on the other hand, he is much more than that. Now that you no longer live on campus, days spent bullshitting in the dining hall or dorms over, you most certainly do not spend as much time together.

And yet, nothing has changed. Except for your feelings, of course. This time last year, you were minding your own damn business when Chanyeol had to go and mention how much time Baekhyun spends with you instead of him. “Sorry?” You had offered, unsure of what the crease in his brow meant.

“No… don’t be sorry,” he hummed, deep in thought and stabbing at his salad in disinterest, “not to be blunt, but he usually bounces from person to person each week. He’s been sticking to you for, what, six months? Something is up.”

“Don’t you live with him?” You asked, confused. What was he getting at here?

“Yeah, but Baekhyun doesn’t really talk romantics with me.”

“Romantics?” You exclaimed, spit flying from your lips. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.

“He definitely likes you. God, it all makes sense now! Okay, I need to do some interrogating,” suddenly rushing, Chanyeol was up and swinging his bag over his shoulder before you could blink an eye. “See ya, ___!”

“Wait!” You yelled out for him, but the obnoxiously tall boy just kept running, dodging students meandering around the dining hall. Slumping in your chair, you eventually turned to look out the window, watching as he continued his flight across campus. “Good talk.”

Nothing ever came up afterward. No answers, no clarifications, nada. Chanyeol never brought it up again, despite the expectant raise of your brows the next lunch you had alone with him. You were content shrugging it off— it was out of your hands. If Baekhyun liked you, so be it.

Or so you thought. Turns out, having such unanswered questions dangling over your head every time Baekhyun left his friends for you at parties, fell asleep with his head on your shoulder during chem, or arrived at your front door with your favorite boba in hand just because he ‘was driving by’ left your mind racing almost as fast as your heart. You thought, for some time, that you could dodge such budding emotions by countering it with all the things you didn’t like about Baekhyun. (Spoiler: it didn’t work.)

Even now, as you watch him catch up with Jongdae, the left side of your brain has already begun arguing with the right. You miss his annoying ass already, one side points out. But he was a distraction, now you have double the students to check in, the other reasons. With a heavy sigh, you shake your head to rid such enraging thoughts and turn to said students, counting each one before making your way to the first in line.

He can’t donate. You realize this before he has even left his seat.

From across the gymnasium, you have continued glancing his way as he went through the mini physical. Just before the finger prick, he shot you a thumbs up and a beaming smile bright enough to challenge the Sun before jerking in his seat at the sudden pinch. Laughing, the grin you returned has not even left your face before his shoulders are sagging, a cloud of disappointment replacing the anxious excitement that was there hardly ten seconds ago. Your smile is gone just as quickly as his.

Standing, Baekhyun nods one last time to the nurse before making his way over, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck from side to side. “Low iron?” You guess, opening your arms for him to nestle into your side like the little munchkin he is. “Yeah,” he mumbles, miserable, and you cringe knowing he’s going to be like this all day now. “I wish I could donate, but…” You drone emptily, trying to change the subject despite the deceitfulness of your ‘wish.’ Over your dead body would you lie on one of those tables and have a harpoon in your arm.

“You should, now that I can’t,” he hums, breath warm on your skin. Convincing as snuggly Baekhyun is, it’s not happening. “Yeah, I’ll pass,” you snort, offering a faux smile to a group of sophomore girls making their way in, shooting confused and envious glances your way. “Make sure to grab a water before starting your Rapid Pass, ladies. If you have not eaten much today, there are snacks by Katie,” you spew, pointing to said girl across the room, “if you have any questions, let me know.” With one last feeble smile, you turn your back to them because, well, it’s awkward facing multiple females whose eyes are trained solely on the boy clinging to you.

“You’re hot when your all doctor,” Baekhyun whispers, lips brushing ever so softly against your collarbone. Suddenly, you regret taking your sweatshirt off during lunch. Swallowing past the panic rising in your throat, you scoff. “Doctor? What doctor are you seeing that directs their patients toward donuts, muffins, danishes—”

“Hot ones, I guess,” he interrupts, smirking against your skin. “Ooooh ‘kay,” you wheeze, heart racing and eyes wide as you wiggle away from him, “y’know, maybe I will donate. Just so you stop bugging me.” Gasping, Baekhyun fakes a bullet to the heart. “Ah, but here’s the thing,” he counters, following close behind as you make your way to the front table, “my job is to distract donors from the needle, hold their hand, tell them ‘good job!’ So, it looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Groaning, you choose to ignore the inexhaustible boy and smile to Lauren once you have reached her. “Do you know if anyone can cover for me for a little? I’m going to try and donate.”

Gasping, she ruffles through the papers spread about her for the volunteer log. Then, “You should be fine. After those girls, the next appointment isn’t until two. I thought you hated this whole concept?”

Snorting, you pull one of the laptops towards you and begin filling out the information needed for a walk-in. “Yeah, well,” tilting your head in Baekhyun’s direction, you sigh, “he couldn’t donate, so now I feel obligated to. Plus, I need a break.”

“Ah,” Lauren hums, writing your name and ‘Walk-In’ on a sticker before passing it to you, “are you guys…?”

Immediately catching what she is hinting at, you jump up from your knelt position and quickly return to your station. “Nope! Negative! Okay, bye Lauren! Thanks!” Laughing, she chooses to ignore your antics, watching after you with a knowing smile when Baekhyun realizes you have left and scrambles to catch up.

You’re hoping you won’t be eligible since you left the country for vacation with your family nine months ago.

Never mind. It’s fine.

Perhaps your heart rate will be too high. You’re pretty anxious, after all.

84. Shit.

You flinch when the quiet-mannered nurse pricks your ring finger. Praying that your iron will be too low, you lean forward in your seat just enough to see the machine’s reading. 13.4. Fuck.

“Alright, I’m just gonna need you to read this first paragraph and sign here,” she directs you, using a pen to point at each spot. When she stands to wave for the next potential donor, you glance up to search for Baekhyun. You could use one of his smiles right about now.

And what you ask for, you receive. Finding your gaze instantaneously, he shoots you bright, encouraging grin and a thumbs up. It’s enough to calm your nerves. A little.

Offering an uncomfortable smile back, you return to your paperwork and hurriedly finish up, your leg bouncing ceaselessly. “All done?” The nurse returns, smiling softly at you and taking the papers when you nod. “You can head over to the third table in the middle.” “Okie,” you squeak, nice, “thank you!”

Good god, what happened to never allowing one of these needles to go in your arm? Sure, you have had blood tests done before, Hell, you have even given someone else one! But this… this is different. This is no ordinary needle, and you certainly do not have Byun Baekhyun veins.

“How are you doing today?” The Red Cross worker greets you once you have reached the table, smile warm and comforting. Seoyeon, her nametag reads. “I’m, ah… I’ve been better, honestly,” your voice comes out shaky and weak. You cringe. Going to med school and you’re whining over a needle. A big, fat, wide needle that will stay in your arm for more than five minutes. “Aw, no! Why’s that?” Seoyeon pouts, shuffling through your papers and slapping a big sticker onto the bag your blood, eventually, will fill.

“I have pretty tiny veins, so I’m really nervous this isn’t going to go well for me,” you admit, artfully rolling the sleeves of your tee even higher. Humming as she finishes carrying over the rest of the equipment, Seoyeon helps you onto the cushioned table before standing beside you, reaching for your arms. “Well,” she starts, brushing over each one for a few seconds before tying a tourniquet around your right bicep, “lucky for you, we do in fact check to make sure your veins are big enough. Hansol, can you double-check that this is alright?”

Your nerves seemingly do not know how to feel at the given moment. On one hand, these are professionals. They know what they’re doing. Plus, Seoyeon is lovely and has certainly eased your anxiety. Nevertheless, you realize that if your veins are okay, that needle is going to be in you in minutes.

This Hansol skirts around the table to feel the two veins Seoyeon has gone back and forth prodding. “Hm,” he grunts, pressing harder on the vein set deeper beneath your skin, “this one is good.” Oh, Christ. “Okay! Thanks,” Seoyeon smiles, then, once he has left her side, “you can lie back this way, sweetie.”

“Okay,” you sigh, settling back and resting your head on the pillow. Unsure of how to situate yourself, you awkwardly cross your legs and nestle your left arm into the pockets of your joggers, right arm dangling over the edge of the table. Then, just as you have closed your eyes, “___!”

Oh, good. This should be interesting. “Hey, Baek,” you smile at the boy as he jogs over, stopping on your left side. “You made it! No backing out now, right?”

“No, no. I’m praying for the best,” you hum, turning away from him to look straight up at the ceiling as Seoyeon begins sanitizing your arm. “You’re gonna be fine,” Baekhyun sings, tugging your hand out of your pocket to intertwine his fingers with yours, “if Sehun could do it, so can you.”

“I’m just marking where your vein is, no need to tense up,” Seoyeon interrupts, chuckling at how easily your posture has gone rigid at the sensation. Funny, how you only tensed up because of Baekhyun’s tender gesture. “I know I’ll be okay, I just,” anxiously licking the desert-dryness of your lips, you once again turn to Baekhyun, “I’m not looking forward to feeling this thing in my arm for ten minutes.”

“Nah,” he giggles, thumb swiping back and forth against your skin, “I’ll distract you!” Yeah, well you do that every day anyway, you snort to yourself, shamelessly taking advantage of the moment and scanning over his features, zoning in on the pinkness of his lips and the tiny moles sprinkled about his face. From this angle, even the shitty LED lighting of the gym somehow makes him look immaculate. “Alright, I’m going to count down from three,” Seoyeon interrupts your gawking, though you haven’t really processed her words until she’s on two. “One…” She utters, and you are instantly squeezing your eyes closed just as hard as your squeezing Baekhyun’s hand as the needle first breaks skin.

“Oh, shit,” you heave once it’s completely sheathed, rolling the plastic grip anxiously in your increasingly sweaty hand, “that actually wasn’t so bad.” Now that Baekhyun has moved to stand directly behind your head, you stare straight up at him and muster your best smile. Really— it was not as bad as you imagined, felt just like regular blood work. As long as you don’t focus too much on it remaining in your arm, you’ll be fine.

“See! I knew you could do it,” he cheers, letting go of your free hand in favor of combing his fingers through your hair. “Ooh,” you quite literally purr, leaning your head back to give him further access, “so, Mr. This-Is-My-Job, is this how you distract donors?” Chuckling, Baekhyun continues to comb through the knots that have accumulated throughout the day. “No,” he admits, “I usually just talk to them about what they did over the weekend. You’re an exception, though.”

Christ, you hope he can’t feel the way your face heats up at his words. “Ah, well, this is great. Thanks, Baek,” humming, you cannot help but let your eyelids fall closed. Peak comfort when you're donating blood? Not what you would have expected.

“So, what did you do this weekend?”

“Well, I went to Target, which was kind of disappointing.”

“Oh, yeah! Didn’t I see on your story that you only got one pair of pants or something?”

“Yeah! Crazy, honestly. I needed to pick up some things and they were completely out. Even their clothes were kind of slacking.” Before he can reply, Seoyeon returns to check up on you. Gasping in surprise, she gives your shoulder a congratulatory nudge. “___! Look at you! You’ve already filled up a fourth of the bag.”

“Oh shit, really?” Laughing, you try to lean up in order to see, but there’s no use. “Have you been drinking a lot of water today?” She asks. Well, now that you think about it… “Huh. I guess I have. Nice.” Chuckling, she fiddles with the tape holding the needle in place before turning away once more.

“So,” Baekhyun starts conversation up once more, “did you do anything else?”

“I hung out with Junmyeon on Sunday again.” Suddenly, you wish you didn’t tell him that.

“Oh,” Baekhyun coughs, accidentally yanking too hard on the tiny braid he’s attempted by your temple, “how was that?”

“It was fun. He’s a great guy…” Clearly, you are hesitant and he easily catches it. “But…?”

“I don’t know,” he’s not you, “I feel really immature and lame compared to him. He’s like, super chill and polite and somehow, it makes me nervous and then I act like I’m on crack. He needs someone older than him, not younger. A lawyer, or something.”

“___, you’re getting a degree in Neuroscience. What the fuck is lame about that?” Baekhyun scoffs, undoing the braid and starting over on the other side. “I don’t know! I guess I just don’t have romantic feelings for him. Everyone keeps pushing me to go for it and he really is amazing, but… it’s just not what I want.”

“No one’s forcing you to date him, ___.”

Well, yeah, but he doesn’t know the bit where your friends are doing it so you can get over a certain someone else. “I know. I think he’ll be fine when I tell him I just want to be friends.”

When a heavy silence falls over you, you rush to change the topic. “So! What did you do this weekend?”

“I played New Horizons,” Baekhyun chuckles, giving up on the braid and going back to simply combing through your hair. When you laugh, you feel the vibration in your arm and realize with another wave of surprise that you still have a needle in you. Damn, looks like you’re a pro at this. Who knew!

“All weekend?” You snort. He definitely went out for drinks with Chanyeol or something.

“Yes, sadly,” oh, never mind, “I couldn’t help it. It’s so relaxing. I can’t wait to go home and play.” He sounds ashamed. “Hey,” you shrug, “sometimes we need a mental health day. Or weekend.”

“Or week.”

“Month?”

“Year, I’m thinking.”

In the midst of your giggle fit, Seoyeon returns, evidently shutting the two of you up. “You’re all done! I just have to take a few tubes and then I’ll tell you when I’m going to take the needle out.”

“Wow, was it just me or did that seem really quick?” Baekhyun asks, frantically moving to hold your hand when he notices you wince at the uncomfortable feel of the needle moving slightly as Seoyeon fills each tube. “No, you’re right,” she hums, “six minutes! Wasn’t so bad, right?”

“Not at all,” you agree, blinking up at the ceiling. Still, you can’t wait to be done. “You sure? Your hand is shaking really bad,” Baekhyun murmurs,  hovering directly above your face. He looks funny, messy hair cascading around him and cheeks looking extra squishy. It makes you smile. “Yeah, just nervous for it to come out, actually. Feel like it’s gonna hurt,” you admit, accidentally squeezing his hand when all Seoyeon does is remove the tape on your wrist keeping the line in place.

“Alright, you ready? It’s just going to a be a little pinch,” Seoyeon interrupts, giving your fingertips a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah,” you hum, instinctively sucking in a deep breath and squeezing your eyes shut.

The sensation that first registers in your brain is not that of Seoyeon slowly withdrawing the needle from beneath your skin. Actually, it’s unnoticeable behind the gentle pressure lingering upon your lips, soft to touch and minty in taste. Blistex, you recognize, eyes flying open just in time to see Baekhyun leaning back up. “Did you just—”

“Alright, keep pressure on this for me and keep your arm straight up,” Seoyeon interjects, oblivious to what just transpired as she presses a hefty square of gauze to your skin. You oblige, brain cells going haywire still trying to piece together the fact that Byun Baekhyun just kissed you.

“Do you do that to everyone?” Is the first thing you blurt to the grinning boy, who, surprisingly so, wears cheeks just as rosy as yours. “No,” he laughs, moving to the side and continuing to stroke you hand, “just donors named ___.”

“Oh,” wrinkling your nose, you slowly lean upright once Seoyeon instructs you to do so, “can I ask why or am I just special?” When she busies herself for few moments cleaning up all of the equipment, Baekhyun releases your hand in order to cup your face with both hands. “Well, of course you’re special,” he murmurs, thumbs swiping against your jaw, “but I figured this was a good opportunity to show you how much I like you.”

It takes a fat second for you to realize what he’s just said. Like you?

“I’m gonna kill him,” you groan, definitely not the response he was expecting if the way he retracts is anything to go by. “Kill who?”

“Chanyeol! Like, a year ago he went all detective mode on me trying to figure out if you liked me, but then he never said anything again, so for the past year I’ve been going nuts trying not to fall for you because I figured if he had nothing to say, you probably didn’t like me like that, yet here we are a year later and—”

In the midst of your mindless babbling, Seoyeon coughs, promptly shutting you up and you turn to her with a wince. “I just need to wrap you up, then you can head over to Recovery,” her attempt to hide her smile is futile but you don’t comment on it, instead allowing her to wrap elastic tape around your elbow. “Leave this on for about an hour, or you can take it off after twenty minutes. Other than that, you’re good to go!”

“Thanks so much, Seoyeon,” smiling appreciatively at her, you slowly turn to slide off the table with the help of her grip on your other arm. Before you are even fully upright, Baekhyun has rounded the table to help, slipping his arm between yours. Honestly, you feel perfectly fine, but you’re not about to go arguing right now. Once he starts leading the two of you toward Recovery, he breaks the silence once more. “So, were you finished back there, or can I talk?”

Cringing, you shake your head, avoiding looking him in the eyes. “No, I’m done.”

“Good,” at this, you pinch his arm, “Chanyeol didn’t say anything because I told him not to.” Baekhyun shushes you when your mouth opens to argue. “I thought I would make a move a lot sooner. But every time I went to, I just started panicking thinking you didn’t feel the same, because, y’know, you don’t show much emotion. And then you started hanging out with Junmyeon… but that doesn’t seem to be working out, so I decided to wing it.”

Your jaw certainly must be on the floor. Stopping by the snacks, Baekhyun releases your arm so you can fill your hands with a donut, apple juice, and a bag of Cheez-Its. “Glad to see we’re both airheads,” you grumble with a mouthful of donut, “I say we blame Chanyeol.” Making sure you safely seat yourself onto the mats spread around the room, Baekhyun then joins and sits crisscross across from you. “I agree. It’s his fault.”

Then, once you have stopped laughing, Baekhyun leans in close, face centimeters from yours and evidently stealing all the air from your lungs. God, he sure is beautiful. “This means you’ll go out with me, right?” He whispers, wiping away a sprinkle that has managed to stick itself to the corner of your lips.

“I thought you were going to play New Horizons when you got home?” You tease, raising one arm to sling across his shoulders. Groaning, he finally cups your face in his hands, strawberry pink lips ever so slightly brushing yours as his smirk deepens. “I am, but you can come watch.”

[edwardslostalchemy]

1) ice skating dates! i like Shouto not knowing how to skate so Izuku shows him and the reverse as well! 2) As pro heroes they leave dumb hints on the internet about their relationship! like really dumb though. Shouto just has a social media account that's called Pro_Hero_Deku's_Husband and just posts candid pictures of Izuku. everyone thinks the user is a crazy stalker, but its just Shouto. 3) in highschool Shouto would be taller for kisses, but then when they get older Izuku is the taller one

(I am going to post several of the messages I have received together! Thank you for sending them in! These made me very happy!)

ultragayturtlepride said:

this isn't really tododeku BUT i think is a funny thought. Shouto is actually left handed but learned to write with his right hand just to spite his father. okay back to Tododeku. I've always had this idea (and i might have said this already i don't know) Izuku accidentally confesses to Shouto by writing something about him in his analysis journal then one day Shouto asks to look at what Izuku wrote about him to see what he needs to improve 1/2

2/2 Shouto looks through it to see what he needs to improve on. Izuku has forgotten what he wrote and when they study together (or Shouto looks through it alone) he sees what was written about him. blushes, fluff, mumbling words, and a proper confession follow

Izuku and Shouto have had many dates at Dagobah Beach. I like to think that if one of them proposed in a proper way it would be there. If they didn't get engaged there, it would be either in the middle of a battle when they think their going to die, or when Izuku is in the hospital (Izuku proposes only in this situation) after a life threatening battle

@da-crazy-fangirl said:

1. Todoroki starts doing deku’s tie for him because he can’t do it very well himself, 2. Deku gets every freckle kissed every night (mom called freckles angel kisses), 3. Todoroki actually is able to boost dekus confidence, 4. The whole autism thing, deku helps todoroki understand emotions and empathy 5. Todoroki is massive emotional help for deku because of his hyper empathy, 6. Deku finds food that aren’t cold soba that todo will like the texture and temperature of for todoroki

Anonymous said:

Just gonna throw this out there - Tododeku as sleeping beauty. But the version where the “beauty” sleeps a hundred years and wakes up in a different world but falls in love with the prince who woke them up. The prince helps them with culture shock and also finds their great great nieces and nephews. (Honestly either one could be the “beauty”. Leaning more towards Shouto tho so he can balance out the sad of having his family gone with “fuck yeah my dads dead”)

Anonymous said:

I know we all talk about how much of a conspiracy theorist Todoroki is. But guess what? So is Midoryia. This is a hero fanatic that takes notes on his heroes and friends abilities and how they operate and you're telling me he doesn't come up with his own theories? That's why they are the ultimate power couple. They support one another's theories and everyone around them is at a lost

Anonymous said:

You know what I think about? That time Todoroki was deciding whether or not to use his fire during his fight with Bakugo, and just when he thinks he made a mistake in his previous match he hears Midoryia shouting “DONT GIVE UP” and just loses his shit. I mean yeah, at the end he still decided to not use it but like how’d you even hear Midoryia in that gigantic stadium where thousands of people are already screaming their heads off? This kid ended up crushing on his rival way too easily

Anonymous said:

I love how Shouto who appears calm cool and collected actually has zero chill like he heard All Might and Midoriya in the same sentence and decided that his rival (crush) was his faves secret child and that he was going to beat his rival (get his attention to show him how amazing he is) and then after they became friends he decided he was never going to leave his side ever again

Anonymous said:

Izuku having nightmares cause of what he's gone through and so he wakes up in the middle of the night and goes downstairs to make tea but Shouto is already down there cause he had a nightmare about Endeavor's abuse and the two of them are trying not to show they're upset so they can comfort their friend and it ends up with the two of them cuddling and crying together until they fall asleep for the rest of the class to find the next morning

Anonymous said:

Izuku and Katsuki are probably gonna intern with Shouto and Endeavor right? So I'm just imagining Izuku and Shouto flirting hardcore and Endeavor is like "my child and this kid?? wtf?!" and Katsuki is like "man you get used to it" and Endeavor wants to be FURIOUS with Shouto but can't cause then Izuku does something goofy or badass or anything at all and Shouto's entire face goes bright red and he smiles so fondly and softly and Endeavor is like "OH SHIT"

Anonymous said:

Vigilante quirkless Izuku who started at 14 when All Might said to give it up cause hes stubborn and was like imma prove you wrong and becomes pretty famous he runs into and possibly saves AM one night and AM was like "I should've just had you as my successor" and he takes Izuku under his wing then to train him (could also be tododeku cause Izuku fights alongside Shouto at some point or saves his life and tells him to fuck off and use his full power and Shouto falls in love right there)

Anonymous said:

Oooooo but its canon that Izuku is the one that Shouto smiles for and he just comes out and says it to all of 1a and Izuku is just so happy and flattered and in love when he realizes it and he gets all wide smiled and crinkly eyed and Shouto just falls in love even more

Anonymous said:

We don't see a lot of Toga and Todoroki confrontations when it comes to Deku in this fandom. I do have this fic in mind that Toga manages to steal Todoroki's blood cause she figured she could get close to Deku but Deku just automatically recognized that this wasnt his Todoroki. ALSO I'm pretty sure real Todoroki would be pissed if he found out how often Toga places herself ontop of Midoryia

Anonymous said:

During the whole Stain fight I figured Shoto didnt have the time to even notice. But when Izuku started showing off his moves in that class race after their internships, I loved his expression like, "omg how did I not process this beautiful site before me". Izuku comes in with a new suit, glowing neon green energy bolts surrounding him, his eyes also illuminate. And Shoto thinks about that a lot

Anonymous said:

Lmao Katsuki tryna get Shouto's attention about whatever and Shouto is just like "Izuku 😊💖" and Katsuki is like "STOP IGNORING ME" and Shouto is like "Izuku the wind really picked up huh? Kinda loud today?"

Anonymous said:

Izuku is teaching Shouto to cook and as you said has him peeling veggies at first right? So Shouto is like "I'm gonna be the best veggie peeler EVER" cause he wants to impress his man but he's too focused on Izuku and he cuts himself so he's all embarrassed and Izuku is like "OH NO SHOUTO ARE YOU OK" and so he cleans Shouto's cut and bandages it up and then he presses a small kiss to it and Shouto is DYING and Izuku is like "that's what my mom always does when I get hurt"

Anonymous said:

Shouto oversharing to Izuku during the Sports Festival and having Izuku see him as an equal and a rival and expecting him to be his best for no one but himself: "I really hope this doesn't awaken anything in me"

Anonymous said:

Shouto is like "You're my rival because you're All Might's successor!" and Izuku is like "Cool so you're one of my best friends now and how would you like to go to a date to kick some villain ass" and Shouto's like "......ok but next time we go on a date I get to choose and it's gonna be saving some asshole's life"

Anonymous said:

Sometimes (all the time) I think about how Izuku legit tore apart his body and broke half his bones just to help Shouto and show him he is way more than just endeavor and I AM SONBING RN 😭😭😭😭 WHAT DID WE DO TO GET 2 PURE BOYS FILLED WITH SO MUCH LOVE

Anonymous said:

Izuku and Shouto are each other's first kiss. Izuku googling how to kiss to make sure he does it right and even asking Katsuki (who he knew had kissed Kirishima at least once) for advice

[di0rtaeyong]

1 Sided Love

➸ summary: Mark breaks up with you, leaving you reminiscing. finally having the courage to face him again, you both to rethink your situation. based on ‘1 Sided Love’ by blackbear. 

➸ genre: college nct!, angst, drama, fluff

➸ word count: 9.5k

➸ warnings: breakups, crying, alcohol use and mention, marijuana use, suggestive scene (?).

➸ authors note: thank you for reading this! this is my first time writing a story this long, i hope you like it!

➸ media:  click here for song

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

 ACT 1

I swear lettin' you down, lettin' you down is hard enough…

… When it's one-sided, one-sided, one-sided love…

…Our time is, our time is, our time is up…

…Is your heart worth breakin'?

 “We need to talk”.

Everyone resents those dreaded words. They are never followed by anything positive and more often than not left someone in tears, especially when your boyfriend of two years says it to you, nervous energy radiating off of him and refusing to make eye contact.

Mark had always calmed you down. Even when he was the one mad at you, there was something about him that allowed you to keep your cool and listen to him. You were an easy crier, so having someone like Mark allowed you to practice keeping your cool. In a way you had thought Mark was your soulmate.

“Hi,” he barely whispered, still refusing to make eye contact as you both settled into your chairs in the corner of the room. He nervously twiddled with his fingers, so you reached out to grab them and interlock fingers as you had done millions of times before.

Only this time Mark flinched away which cause you to pull your hand quickly and a deep furrow form between your eyebrows.

“You okay?” you asked Mark cautiously, trying to offer a comforting smile. He had never refused to hold your hand before. It was one of the only PDA action’s that both of you felt comfortable with, the innocence in your relationship still giving you both a youthful glow.

“You wanna get a drink? I’ll get you one. The last time we came here was with Hyuck, remember? You guys got the lemon tea; I knew none of you would like it but you both insisted… I’ll get you the choc- “

“Y/N.” he said firmly. He had never used this tone with you and frankly you were more curious than scared. Mark didn’t scare you. Mark was a lot of things but scary he was not. He was always there for you. He would alw-

“I think we should break up.”

If the world had ended right there and then it wouldn’t have made a difference to you because what you felt like inside was a hundred times worse.

“I- Uh- What?” you asked stupidly.

“Do you not feel it, Y/N?”, Mark asked finally looking me in the eye. The tears were starting to well up and Mark knew how much you hated crying in front of other people. But he wasn’t just ‘other people’. He was Mark and you would allow yourself to cry in front of him because he loved you and you loved him. Right?

“What are you talking about, Mark? Is this some stupid joke Donghyuck is making you do? Because it’s not funny.” You said through your teeth trying to swallow the lump in your throat that seemed to really want to ruin your strong demeanor.

Watching you try to keep yourself composed and doing nothing about it was one of the hardest thing’s Mark has ever done. He so badly wanted to reach out to you, brush away the hot tears you fought so hard to blink back and hold you against his chest as he had done over a thousand times over the past two years.

You had fallen for Mark a while before you had started dating, begging Jeno to introduce you to his ‘cute older friend’ who just so happened to be working as a children’s basketball camp coach the summer before you went off to university.

Jeno finally caved when you annoyed him enough and introduced you quickly and with no enthusiasm (“Y/N this is Mark, Mark this is Y/N, can we please go now?”). And it was that moment where you knew you wouldn’t be able to get rid of the hearts in your eyes that easily.

You had initially thought Mark was way too perfect if you were being honest. He was fit (played on his school’s basketball team), he was smart (he had gotten Dean’s list), he was good with kids (hence summer camp coach), and he was nice. He was so many things that you could go on and on about (which you did, which led Jeno to literally pay you to shut up about Mark- “Here’s a ten, it better be enough.”- which you happily allowed him to do).

After Jeno had introduced you, you and Mark had instantly hit it off. Never before had you felt like this around any boy. Of course, you had your fair share of crushes, but Mark felt different. He made you laugh in ways that made your stomach churn with more than laughter and made your head spin with happiness and your heart ache every time you parted. It was early but if you were being honest, you were in love. And you had fell hard.

But as the summer ended, you were forced to part ways with Mark. You were both getting ready to go off to university, Mark entering his second year, you your first. Countless nights spent with Mark were full with the both of you sharing your fears and dreams as you sat in the trunk of his dad’s van looking up into the sky eating melted ice cream he would buy you from McDonald’s every Monday and Wednesday night after work.

You had heard so many reassurances from him since the day you met him, that when he suggested something negative it really took you by surprise. Him telling he thinks you two should break up? Surely there must have been something you misheard.

“Y/N? You still there?”. Your gaze snapped to Mark and you finally took in his appearance.

His hair was pushed back off his face but under his eyes were dark circles from late nights and his nose was slightly red. He was wearing a black hoodie, one of your personal favourites to ‘borrow’, paired with his worn-out jeans you silently loved on him. You couldn’t see his feet but you knew he was wearing the pair of black and white Converse you had bought him for his birthday using your whole pay cheque the summer you worked together at the community centre. Jeno had laughed at you, saying you were ‘whipped’ and the expression on Mark’s face when you gave him the shoes definitely made you realize that yes, you were whipped.

Mark had spent the whole month of July talking about how he wanted new Converse, but he was trying to pay for some stuff for school, so he was waiting it out. The day after he had brought it up to you, you couldn’t help but go off to the mall and buy his size. You had regretted it the minute after you did it thinking it was too overbearing, too affectionate for someone you had just met. But when you saw the look on his face when you gave them to him eased your worries as you mirrored the smile he gave you.

What your eyes decided to focus on was his left hand, more specifically his ring finger.

The steal band still wrapped around his finger, the more delicate equivalent present on your own ring finger. The engraved initials inside the band seemed to burn against your skin.

“You’re wearing it.” You stated simply. You didn’t want to talk too much in case your voice decided to crack.

Following your line of vision, Mark focused on the ring. “Yeah. It’s a habit now I guess.”

Mark and you had exchanged these rings on the night of your second anniversary. You had mentioned you had wanted something to show Mark off (‘as a joke’ you had insisted) even when he wasn’t there, and Mark suggested rings. Sputtering out an explanation about how you were both too young to get married and to ignore him, you grabbed his hand and interlocked fingers with him. “I think that’s a great idea”.

The memory left you smiling, meeting Mark’s eyes seeing him holding a reminiscing smile as well as he played with the ring.

“Y/N…” Mark started.

“Why do you want to break up, Mark? I thought we were happy?” you whispered.

“I know, I know Y/N, we were, uh, we are, but… like… there’s so much on my plate right now you know school and the team and internships and summer jobs and you! You’re going to be even more busy and we’ll hardly see each other and- “,

“Mark, that sounds so stupid. We can just work with each others’ schedules, its not a big deal.” You said, trying not to sound desperate.

“Y/N… I don’t know how to put this…” he said, struggling to find the right words.

You were getting agitated. “Well spit it out. Say what you want then,” you said angerly.

“Okay well… umm… I umm…” he said looking down at his lap.

“Mark. Just say it.” You said blankly.

“Well… um… I’m not in love with you anymore.”

“Mark- “, but your words were caught in your throat. If earlier you felt like the world was ending, right now would be described as one million times worse.

Your ears started ringing and the room suddenly started feeling way too hot for an early September night. Your vision blurred slightly as you felt hot tears stream down your face uncontrollably.

“I have to go.” You said standing up way too quickly. The room spun with your actions and black spots danced in your vision.

“Y/N, wait, can we just talk?” Mark pleaded quickly, standing up.

A few minutes ago, you would have found your height differences endearing, adding to the long list of things you loved about him. He was always a few inches taller than you which you had always loved but now it made you feel as if he was further away than ever.

“Mark, I think that’s all you needed to say. Maybe we can talk again another day?” You proposed, knowing full well you would not be able to face Mark again without feeling that horrible lump in your throat.

Staring deeply at you for a while, he said “Yeah. Yeah, yeah that’s fine. Can I walk you home? It’s late.”

It’s 8:30, you wanted to say. It’s not late. Its not too late to think about us.

But the words didn’t come out. You just nodded your head knowing Mark wouldn’t take no for an answer and you also didn’t trust your voice.

Quickly picking up your stuff you rushed out before you could hear Mark say something about you going to fast.

‘That’s not us anymore’, you thought. You would no longer hear Mark complaining close behind you as you walked at a quick pace, would no longer laugh as he ran up and grabbed your hand swinging your arms in pure bliss.

Hearing rustling behind you, you glanced behind to see Mark rushing out to catch up with you and tears brimmed your eyes. What went wrong?

As you walked in silence for a while, focused on only the road ahead you tried to block out Mark’s warm presence next to you and the cold wind biting at your uncovered arms, the t-shirt you were wearing not doing anything to block the wind.

“Here take my sweater, you’re gonna get sick.” Mark said already pulling it off his body and handing it to you.

Weakly shaking your head in protest, you tried not to focus on the heat radiating from Mark and tried to focus on the road ahead. You were almost home. Just a little longer and yo-

“Y/N.” Mark said. You were starting to really hate this tone. He grabbed your hand and forced you to turn towards him. He struggled to slip your arms through the holes as you left your limbs limp, refusing to look at his face.

Pulling the sweater over your head and pulling your hair out cautiously he muttered, in his own world not aware that you could hear him mumbling to himself. Nothing coherent but you were always aware that Mark talked to himself a lot, a sound that used to soothe your mind now making your heart twist in a way that could only be described as immense pain.

When the sweater was on and Mark retracted his hands, you didn’t hesitate to turn around fast on your heel and continue your borderline run home.

Quicker than usual you arrived home. The porch light seemed to be almost mocking you as it shone in the autumn night. ‘Almost there.’ You thought to yourself. You wanted to be inside your warm house so bad. Wanted to be in your bed, despite knowing you would not be able to control your tears once your head hit the pillow. You just wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t with Mark.

Turning around you finally looked at his face. His eyes were red, and hands curled into fists in order to keep his fingers warm. This would usually be the time you reached out with a laugh and hug him, rubbing his arms and back of his neck as you tried to share your body heat. But those times were over.

“Here, take your sweater back.” You said breaking the staring contest you were both participating in. As you went to pull it over your head, he stopped you.

“Keep it, its going to keep getting colder.”

“I have my own sweaters.”

“I know, but I know you loved borrowing this one.”

Love, you thought bitterly.

Sighing, you blinked quickly to get rid of more tears that started forming. Turning to face your house you muttered, “Bye then.”.

Staring at you for a long moment, a deep expression on his face, you knew he was going to say something that would only break your heart further. Something like “One last hug?” or “Can I at least get a kiss goodbye?” so you didn’t wait for him to say anything at all.

You made your way to the door, and while unlocking it, you paused.

Taking a deep breath, you used any and all strength in your body to turn around and see if Mark was still there. You knew he would be. He always waited until you got inside and would wait for a text to see if you got in alright. Tonight, he would wait for you to go inside but there would be no text following.

Making eye contact you mustered up the best smile you could, a small quirk of your lips, as you waved to Mark.

“See you when I see you!” He called, sad smile on his lips.

“See you when I see you,” you repeated lowly, turning back to open your door letting yourself in. You didn’t stop moving until you were inside, door locked, ignoring your mom’s questions about how your night was, wondering why you were back earlier than you told her.

You didn’t stop until you were in your bedroom, shutting the door quietly and climbing into bed.

You didn’t stop crying until there were no tears left and you could see the sun rising in the sky.

You didn’t stop loving Mark even though it caused every piece of your being to ache because he was Mark and no matter what he did you knew he was going to be a presence in your soul no matter how much you hated to admit it.

One-sided, one-sided, one-sided love.

                                          ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ 

ACT 2

You’re too busy talking over me to hear what I’m sayin’

You’re too high to realize I see through the smile that you're fakin’

You're so into yourself, everyone else is overrated

And everything’s changing; is your heart worth breakin'?

 You opened your eyes, sun peaking through your blinds, causing the throbbing in your head to worsen. The buzzing from your phone also didn’t help and your roommate/ friend seemed to agree.  

“Pick up your damn phone before I throw it out the window.” Snapped Raven, pulling the blanket over her head.

Groaning, you stretched your arm across the bed with your eyes closed trying to feel for it under the mess of blankets.

Letting out a sign of relief when you finally grasped it, you swiped, accepting the call with your eyes still closed, hitting the speaker button by accident.

“Y/NNNNNNNN!!!”, sang the most irritating voice you could have possibly heard at 10 am, hungover on a Saturday morning.

“Tell Donghyuck to shut the fuck up, Y/N, I can hear him from over here!” shouted Raven angerly, muffled by the blankets.

“Donghyuck do you have to be so fucking loud? Its early and I have a huge headache,” You said into the phone, cracking an eye open to glance at the caller ID. “, Also why are you calling me from Jeno’s phone?”.

You heard some shuffling and some yelling that sounded faintly like “give me my phone back you fucking-“ and then you heard what you assumed to be a pillow hitting a body and finally Jeno’s voice.

“Y/N! Good morning!” He chirped. You wanted to wince at his tone, but his positive energy always made you smile no matter the mood you were in.

“Hiiiiiiii”, you drawled, resulting in a groan from Raven and laugh from Jeno. “, To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Well I wanted to ask- “

“WE!!! Wanted to ask,” yelled Donghyuck.

“Ugh well, I guess we wanted to ask on behalf of Johnny- “

“Y/N you have to come to Johnny’s birthday party! Its gonna so fun and he’s gonna have drinks and- oh OW!” yelled Donghyuck followed by the sound of a pillow whacking a body again.

“Anyways, I wanted to know if you would come to Johnny’s birthday party with us. It’ll be fun and he’s gonna have drinks and food and stuff.” Said Jeno calmly.

“Hey! I literally just said that!”

“Yeah but she doesn’t want to listen to you, you fucking idiot” commented Jeno, hint of humour evident in his tone. You could practically see Hyuck pouting.

Johnny Suh was about five years older than Jeno, Donghyuck and yourself. You had first met him by accident when you ran into Jeno at the store back in seventh grade and you had decided to race shopping carts while your families did groceries. Picking a spot in the store where you thought there was no one you quickly started racing. Looking back to see if Jeno was going to beat you, you smiled triumphantly when you saw that he had stopped quite a few feet behind you. Turning back to the front you wondered why Jeno had stopped when you were faced with a tall figure and a display for toilet paper.

Desperately trying to stop your cart before you crashed into the display, or the tall boy, you managed to skid to a stop but not without taking down a few rows of the display. You had fallen right on your bottom, ache quickly spreading through your body as you heard Jeno run up behind you.

“I’m so sorry we didn’t mean to, we were just- “

“It’s fine. Just clean up. Are you okay?” Was he talking to you? You couldn’t tell through the stinging pain on your palms and ache in the bottom half of your body. His voice was deeper than you expected and his hair way too long, covering his entire forehead, swept to the side reaching his left eye and his outstretched hand looking way too big for his lanky body.

Looking from his hand and back up to his face you couldn’t stop the blush spreading across your face. You knew him. You had heard your older family-friends who lived in the area talking about ‘John Suh’, who went by Johnny to friends, and how he was so nice, so involved, so handsome and a senior in your future high school.

Hearing Jeno scoff made you snap out of your trance, charming smile (as charming as a twelve year old could muster) on your face as you grabbed John Suh’s hand and he pulled you up.

“Thank you so much! I am sorry about the display, Jeno and I will fix it!” I exclaimed quickly, smile never leaving my face.

Fixing his grocery store uniform shirt and flicking his hair off his face, John Suh offered you what you had thought at the time was the most amazing smile in the whole world, and agreed to let you do so as he had to go to the registrar’s.

“Hey, thanks again, um sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” John Suh asked looking directly in your eyes.

“Um- I uh- uh…” I stuttered. Was a senior really asking for my name? The senior in question being John Suh?!

“Its Y/N.” Jeno answered for you, annoyance laced in his tone. You could practically feel him rolling his eyes but that did nothing to ruin your mood.

“Well thanks Y/N! Be careful next time!” said John Suh. Smiling you nodded enthusiastically, not missing the way John Suh walked past Jeno, ruffling his hair, telling him to stay out of trouble.

Waving to him until he was gone, you turned angerly on your heel to face Jeno. He was making retching sounds behind you, acting out throwing up.

“Y/N, you are so lame! ‘Thank you so much, Johnny who I am most clearly in love with! I will clean up anything you ask!’” said Jeno, raising his voice a few octaves in imitation of yours.

“Shut up! First of all, why would you not tell me you know John Suh?! And that you’re close enough to call him Johnny?! Also, second of all, I do not talk like that!”

Making the talking motion with his hand, Jeno just walked by you and started picking up the toilet paper you had forgotten about.

Following his actions, you bent down to pick up a few rolls, not waiting a moment to keep bothering Jeno. “Hellooooooooooooooo. Please tell me how you know John Suh! Why wouldn’t you tell me?!” you asked as if it was vital information tethered to your life-line.

“Ugh, Y/N, I don’t know it just never came up. I’ve known him for a few years, our moms are friends. Happy?”, picking up the last roll and stacking it the same way it was before your cart collided with the display.

“Delighted.” You said.

Now in present day, you now called John Suh ‘Johnny’, much to the delight of your twelve-year-old heart. He was now one of your closest friends and confidants, or perhaps was. You had run into Johnny a few times after the grocery store incident but at the end of your seventh-grade year Johnny was to head off to university. Girls in your area, including yourself, were saddened by the loss, Jeno pretending to be disgusted whenever you complained. It wasn’t until the summer you worked at the community centre that you had gotten close to Johnny.

Mark had brought up a bon fire his older friends were throwing, inviting you to come claiming everyone there would love if you came.

After some coaxing you finally agreed to go, not without Raven, Jeno, and Donghyuck (both who were already invited because they knew the host. Jeno wouldn’t tell you who’s party it was) by your side as Mark opened the front door to greet you guys.

“Everyone’s in the back, guys you can leave your stuff in Johnny’s room.” Said Mark to Jeno and Donghyuck.

Nodding and walking off, the two boys started walking away to leave their stuff in Joh-

“Wait, who’s house is this?!” you asked worried, looking nervously at Mark.

“Oh, I thought you already knew. Jeno said you guys knew each other. It’s Johnny’s house.”

You inwardly groaned. You looked at Raven for help, but all you got was a nervous smile. She was as nervous as you. This was a party. A party with college guys, and their college antics, and Mark, and-

“Lets GOOOOOOO!” yelled Donghyuck, bolting down the stairs towards the back door.

“You ready?” Mark asked you and Raven as you made your way to the door, nodding but not missing the insulting comment Raven made about Hyuck. Snickering as you crossed through the door back into the hot night of July, you walked smack into a brick wall.

Well this brick wall was much softer than a brick wall, and also just so happened to not be a brick wall and rather the strong and broad chest of John Suh.

“Y/N! I’m so happy you could make it! Mark has been talking about you all summer, I was so happy when he said you were coming!” exclaimed John Suh, arms embracing you like old friends. Awkwardly returning the hug you tried to calm your thoughts; ‘John Suh was hugging me. The John Suh. Wait till I tell- Wait Mark talked about me?’

Moving to greet Raven, you heard him introduce himself “Hi! You must be Y/N’s friend. Hyuck doesn’t stop talking about you. I’m Johnny!” he said to her charming as ever and you already knew the earful of gushing you would hear after the party.

During the party you had met many of Johnny’s university friends; Yuta, a quiet guy with the nicest hair you had ever seen, Taeyong, a shorter, skinner man who had a precious smile and Jaehyun, two years younger than Johnny with one of the most handsome faces you had ever seen and the most delicious build.

The bonfire had been a lot of fun. Mark hardly left your side which you didn’t mind at all, even offering you his sweater when it got chilly. Laughs were exchanged and everyone was so welcoming towards Raven and you, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed when it was time to leave.

All of the boys bid you and Raven goodbye, tights hugs filled with well wishes and see you soon’s and beer and expensive cologne. Mark insisted on walking you both out, accompanied by a grumbling Donghyuck who only got up when Jeno elbowed him in the stomach with a pointed look.

Walking slowly behind Raven and Donghyuck, trying to block out the sounds of their bickering, you turned to Mark, speaking in a low tone. “Thanks for inviting us tonight. It was really fun.”

“I’m glad you came… it was really nice to have you here with me- uh I mean with us! It was really nice to have you here with all of us you know all the guys a-“

Laughing, you gently nudged Mark with your shoulder. Feeling brave you replied, “It was really nice to be here with you too, Mark.”

Finally reaching the front door which was left open courtesy of Raven and Donghyuck who had taken their bickering to the front lawn.

“Y/N… umm what I umm really wanted to umm say to you was… umm….” Began Mark, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand.

You were about to prompt him to continue when you were both interrupted by a semi-drunk Donghyuck, “Mark did you confess already? I really can’t keep talking to this one, she’s annoying the shit out of me,” jutting out his thumb in Raven’s direction.

With your ears ringing, you watched as Mark turned to you slowly, eyes wide and mouth agape, while Raven scoffed and started a string of curse words directed at Donghyuck.

“Um so yeah… I wanted to tell you that umm… I like you. Yeah, umm you don’t have to say anything right now… damn, I’m sorry, I really didn’t want it to be this way, I- “

You suddenly grabbed his right hand, pulling him down to your height and planting a quick kiss to his cheek.

A blush spread almost instantly at the contact across Mark’s face to the tips of his ears and started opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

Face hot you whispered a quick goodbye to Mark walking briskly out the door to your car. Hearing rustling as you tried to pull out your key, you were about to ask Raven why she was coming to the driver's side, but you were met but a warm hand on your wrist-twisting you around and warm, nervous lips meeting yours.

You took in Mark’s face for a few milliseconds, bangs blowing in the summer night wind right before closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of Mark’s lips on yours.

Everything seemed to be happening in your own world, you almost missed Donghyuk yelping and pulling out his phone. Flash going off, Mark and you separated, sheepish smiles on your faces as you avoided eye contact with each other.

Taking the keys from your hand, Raven pushed you away from the driver’s door and plopped herself down behind the wheel. “Bye Mark! It was great seeing you!” she quipped with a smirk, starting the ignition.

Walking to the passenger’s side, Mark and you talked quietly and minimally.

“I’ll text you? See you Monday?”

“Eight am, as always.” you had replied happily.

“Y/N? You still there?” spoke Jeno, bringing you back to the present day.

“Ah, yeah Jeno I’m here, sorry just spaced out. What was the question?” you asked. ‘Ugh why does everything make me think of Mark? Its been months…’ you thought to yourself.

“Hyuck and I wanted to know if you were gonna come to Johnny’s birthday party. It's not formal, just at his house but he would love to have you there. We haven’t seen you in ages.” Jeno said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

It was true you had not seen your friends in a while. The last time you were all together was at the end of August, followed by the… Mark incident in September. After that, you had limited interactions with mutual friends (including Jeno) and skipping out on birthday’s (including Yuta’s; you told him you were swamped with work and would make it up to him, to which he just responded with a thumbs-up emoji) and even the Christmas and New Years parties.

You knew Johnny would definitely be disappointed if you didn’t go…

“Yeah Jeno, of course, I’ll come! Can’t wait!”.

                                                   ~

 You now stood in front of the floor-length mirror hanging on your shared bathroom door pulling at the hem of your short black dress the following Friday night.

“Raven, are you sure this isn’t too much? Or too short? Jeno said it was casual…” you complained to your friend for the hundredth time that night. And you hadn’t even left yet.

Stilling her hand that was applying highlighter she groaned. “Y/N for the millionth time, you look fine. But you know if you really want to change go ahead. But you look great.”

‘That’s because you picked the dress,’ you groaned inwardly.

Slipping on your shoes, you waited for Raven to finish up. You both debated bringing jackets but opted not to because they would just ruin your outfits and be a hassle to carry.

The cab ride to Johnny’s house was uneventful, just on your phone, watching Snapchats Jeno had already sent you.

Midway through the long thread of videos you witnessed Donghyuck snatching the phone out of Jeno’s hand and running off. He was probably already drunk from the way he was talking but the laugh you were about to let out got stuck in your throat.

“MAAARRRRKKKKK!!!!” you heard from your phone as you watched the video. The camera turned to face Mark who laughed at the camera and wrapped his arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder.

Shutting your phone off you took in a deep breath. Of course, you knew Mark would be there. You knew but you refused to acknowledge. Living your life in ignorance since Jeno told you about the party had worked all up to this moment.

“It’ll be okay.” You heard Raven whisper, but you didn’t stop looking out the window until you were parked outside of Johnny’s house.

Paying the driver, you fiddled with your dress as you made your way up to the front door.

“Y/N, you’re completely sure you’re okay with this right? If not we can go home, its not a big- “

“No, its fine. I said I would be here so I’m here right? Besides we’re gonna get wasted!” you said, forcing a smile on your face.

With one last look at you, Raven rang the bell.

The thumping bass of the music could be heard from the end of the driveway, accompanied by loud yelling making you doubt that anyone would hear the bell until you saw the door finally crack open.

“Fin-allyyyy. I was waiting for youuuu.” Slurred Donghyuck as he opened the door for the two of you, Jeno following close behind him. The entire house smelt like alcohol and weed and sweat which suddenly had you feeling a lot more confident.

Hugging Donghyuck and Jeno, you made your way into the house, surprised Donghyuck and Raven had hugged and were actually talking civilly.

The kitchen was filled with faces familiar and not. “Y/N! Raven! You came!” yelled Johnny. He was currently standing over a shorter man who was lying shirtless on the island, pouring tequila into his belly button.

“Of course we came! We couldn’t miss John Suh’s birthday, could we?” you teased.

Groaning but holding a drunken smile on his face, he wrapped one arm around your shoulder and his other around Raven.  

Taking in his familiar cologne along with the scent of alcohol calmed your nerves a bit. You had almost forgotten what you were nervous about until you heard his name.

“Mark! Let’s take shots!”, yelled a good-looking boy (everyone here seemed to be attractive) who was sporting a nice shade of pink hair. You had never seen him before but by the way, he had himself practically hanging off of Mark made you think they were close.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. You were here for Johnny. To have a good time. You would not let your ex-boyfriend ruin that.

But when you opened your eyes, you found the familiar brown ones staring back at yours. He now had added blond highlights to his brown hair which looked surprisingly good (although you would never admit that out loud). He was wearing what looked like a varsity jacket and you instantly thought about how he was doing on the basketball team. Did they make it playoffs?

Seeing his mouth open shocked you back into reality. Looking ready to say something to you, you panicked. Spinning on your heel you looked back to see the shirtless man waiting impatiently for Johnny to continue the body shots.

“So, when can I start drinking?!” You laughed as you approached Johnny, back turned in Mark’s direction.

“Y/N…” you heard a voice whisper. You knew who it was.

“Ah, Johnny, where was she this whole time? Finally, some fun.” The man lying down said coyly. The smirk on his face would normally make you feel uneasy but was now the most amazing distraction.

“Y/N”, you heard a little louder now.

“So, where’s my drink?!” you practically shouted, trying to get away from any contact with your ex-boyfriend who you just so happened to still be in love with. Great.

“Right here, pretty girl.” Said the smirking, crazily attractive man, still lying on the counter and pointing to his belly button. There was a line off salt between his pectorals leading down to his navel, his defined but slim tan torso looking absolutely sinful.

“Y/N!” the dreaded voice said a bit louder, sounding way to close for you to think rationally.

Panicking and seeing no other way out, you stepped forward to the man on the countertop who was holding his head up with his hands behind his neck, smirk looking almost teasing as it did lazy.

You leaned forward to start at the bottom of the salt line, not forgetting to wet your tongue before sticking it out and licking up the salt all while holding your gaze with the man.

His body was warm and smelt slightly of what could only be a very expensive cologne. His gaze was inviting, combined with his scent making him almost so intoxicating you almost forgot the reason you were doing this.

You paused when your tongue reached the end of the salt line, spot closet to his face. Not saying anything he just jutted his chin out, reminding you to finish your mission.

Moving to his belly button you leaned your head to the side, landing it in the space between his navel and hip bone. Holding eye contact you noticed some of the tequila had spilt across his torso, moving to lick it up before it fell off his body. When you finally reached his navel and started lapping at the alcohol you felt his let out one shudder when you started, the only action in your whole interaction that led you to believe he might not be as cocky as he wanted to come off as.

Finally, when you were done you stood back up and took the lemon he handed you. Sitting up he finally spoke. “Damn, didn’t think you had it in you, pretty girl.”.

His voice was higher than you expected, and held intoxicating tone, almost sounding like a cat talking to its prey. Trying to return the cool attitude, you tried to ignore the heat you were feeling all over your body. “Well, I’m full of surprises,” you said, voice coming out way more confident than you felt, much to your delight.

“Hm, well I hope I can be a witness to more surprises,” eyes never leaving yours, almost hypnotizing. “I’m Ten.”, he said, his hand reaching out to shake yours.

“Y/N.”, you returned, taking his hand.

Eyebrow quirked; he gave you a look that you really could not decipher. Then his signature smirk reappeared. You had almost started to think it was his permanent expression. “Enjoy the party, Miss Y/N.”, he practically purred as he slid off the counter and disappeared into the crowd.

You didn’t turn around to see if anyone specific was waiting for your whole spectacle to be over and practically skipped into the living room to find Raven.

Finding Raven was not a problem as she was standing on top of the living room table dancing to the Rihanna song that was blasting through the speakers at the moment.

As she danced, Donghyuck surprisingly close to her, she spotted you and let out a sound of happiness. Pretending to pull you with an invisible rope, you made your way over to her, laughing on your way there.

She was quick to pull you up to the table, but you didn’t plant your feet properly causing you to slip.

Certain you were going to land straight and knock your head, you were quickly caught by a pair of strong arms around your waist. Head falling against your hero’s shoulder you heard their voice, familiar velvet enticing your ears for the first time in months.

“You gotta be more careful, princess.” Yuta whispered in your ear, low tone wrapping its ways around your mind, fogging your thoughts.

“Yuta. Hi.” You said as he helped you down from the table. He looked almost the same as every time you saw him, handsome as ever with striking features and perfect teeth almost as if someone had taken the time to draw him to the utmost perfection. The biggest difference in his appearance was his hair; much longer than you remembered and dyed a bleach blond, only contributing to his good looks, and the lack of red tint and glazed over look in his eyes.

“Didn’t smoke yet?”, you asked really hoping he hadn’t.

“Was just about to head out. Joining me?”, he asked, lips curling up into his signature Cheshire smile. You had always thought he was hiding something when he smiled like that, always feeling like he knew something you didn’t.

Tapping Raven’s leg and signalling that you were going outside with Yuta. After she nodded you followed him to the back door, remembering the first time you ever walked through the doors and met Yuta for the first time.

Not saying anything you watched Yuta take out his blunt and light it, smell not waiting a second to infiltrate your nostrils.

Taking a deep breath in as Yuta took a drag, you basked in the smell, patiently waiting your turn.

Yuta turned to you, placing the blunt between your lips. Moving your hand up to reposition it, you brushed against his. Trying to block the wind with one hand, he brought the lighter up to the blunt keeping it there for a good few seconds.

“Surprised you came”, he said as you inhaled deeply.

Taking your time, you moved the blunt from your lips and inhaled as much as you could before letting the smoke out.

Feeling it immediately in your lungs, you started your coughing fit, handing the blunt back to Yuta, him just lighting it up again, waiting for you to recover.

When you were done, you turned to him expectantly. Taking the blunt from him, you placed it between your lips waiting for him to continue.

“Wasn’t sure to expect you or not,” he said as he lit the ashy end of the blunt for you.

Inhaling again, this time more smoothly, you made a confused face at him. Tapping out the embers that were starting to ruin the taste you replied, “I said I was coming, so of course I came.”

Yuta shrugged, hair falling around his shoulders, either the moonlight or the weed making him look like an angel.

Yuta just looked at you, face not saying much, or maybe it actually said a lot and you just had trouble reading him. You weren’t sure.

“Glad you did.” Was all you heard as you watched Yuta start to sway slightly.

“Was taking a tolerance break,” you explained when he raised his eyebrows at you. Two hits were usually not enough for you, but that was back when you were spending much more time with Yuta and did not have to pay for weed because he would never let you. “, That’s also strong as fuck.” You giggled.

Reaching out to take another hit, Yuta ignored your hands and just placed the blunt between your pouted lips. Opening them lightly to place the blunt properly you looked up to see Yuta much closer than you expected. Eyes that seemed to be staring into your soul, he leaned away to light the blunt and waited until you pulled the almost burnt out blunt away from your lips. Then he was back to his original position, so close that if you shifted a bit forward you would bump noses.

You slowly let out smoke from your mouth as you continued to stare at Yuta, always curious about his next actions, not really ever knowing what to expect.

Which never came because you were interrupted by the one person you were avoiding.

“Johnny wants everyone to come watch him cut his cake.”, said Mark, standing at the door, blatantly staring at you and Yuta, eyeing your proximity very carefully.

Stepping away from you, Yuta sighed dramatically, tone sounding almost teasing. “Ah well, we better go. Don’t want to miss anything important.” You didn’t miss his infamous smile, looking like he could see right through you.

He walked towards Mark who was still standing at the door frame, giving him the same smile he gave you and slipping past him into the warm house.

Despite feeling the cold wind prick at your exposed skin, you couldn’t bring yourself to move as Mark and you just stared at each other.

After what felt like hours but what must have actually been a few seconds, your gazes were broken but Yuta popping his head through the door, not minding Mark’s startled stance.

“Coming, Y/N?” he asked, faux innocence dripping from his voice.

Snapping out of your trance, you twisted your lips into the biggest smile you could muster and nodded and Yuta. Making your way towards the door you inhaled quickly before passing Mark so you didn’t have to smell his cologne when you walked by.

Mark turned to the side as you passed, your arm brushing his chest when you heard something about how you always forgot a jacket. Looking up to see if Mark had said something you saw his mouth in a thin line. Brushing off it as a part of your high, you grasped Yuta’s outstretched hand and allowed him to lead you to the kitchen where Johnny was waiting to cut his cake without looking back.

The kitchen was loud and hot, only accentuating your high. Donghyuck was quick to shove a red solo cup in your hand, demanding you finish it right this instance. Filled more than halfway, it reeked of vodka and about a splash of orange juice. There was so much vodka the juice only tinted the clear drink a very faint orange.

“You would be a horrible bartender,” you laughed at Donghyuck.

“I didn’t make you a drink to enjoy Y/N, I made you a drink to get DRUNK!”, words slurring together as he laughed with you.

Turing to Yuta, you saw him with a smirk and cocked eyebrow, challenging you. “Can you do it, Y/N? Or can you still not hold your drink?”.

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. “I’m not an amateur, Yuta. You know that.”

Knowing the smirk would not leave his face, you smiled at Donghyuk. “Bottoms up!” you cheered as you downed the drink.

You didn’t stop chugging despite your body instantly warming and the feeling of bile in your throat. Finally reaching the end you slammed the cup down on the counter and let out a gag.

“Hyuck, that somehow tasted worse than usual.” You complained as Yuta kindly handed you a cup of actual juice.

“That’s because its Johnny’s Belvedere Silver! His parents gave it to him for his birthday, he was so drunk he handed me the bottle,” Donghyuck said, snickering in a sinister way.

“It’s not right to take advantage of the birthday boy.” Came a familiar, cat-like voice.

Ten, who was now wearing a white button-up (that was completely see-through), squeezed his way between Yuta and you, leaving you to press up against Donghyuck who did not seem aware of his surroundings at all. Returning Ten’s cunning smile with a genuine one of your own you felt the effects of the alcohol running through your system.

Looking around, a smile crossed your face as you recognized familiar faces. Johnny was currently deemed “unable to participate in festivities at the current moment and will rejoin the party in approximately ten minutes” by Jaehyun who didn’t fail to gather you in his arms when he finally made his way over to you. Two kisses pressed to your smiling cheeks, the feeling of guilt washing over you as you remembered you had not spoken to him since the summertime.

“Coming to my birthday party?”, he had asked you.

Handsome features struck you all over again, foggy feeling only increasing as you downed three shots while conversing with him.

After the third shot, you watched Jaehyun’s back retreat to go get Johnny when a head of yellow blond flashed before your eyes and were soon being pulled into a warm hug between skinny but toned arms.

“Y/N!”, exclaimed Taeyong. “I haven’t seen you in forever!” he hiccuped.

All you could do in response was laugh, hug him back, and tell him how good his hair looked.

“Let’s cut some cake!” yelled Johnny, practically being held up by Jaehyun.

Cheers were let-out around the kitchen as the crowd suddenly surged forward towards the counter. You were separated from Taeyong but spotted Donghyuck and Jeno from where you ended up. Attempting to make your way over to them, you stumbled, accidentally colliding with the very attractive pink-haired boy that was around Mark when you had first arrived.

“Careful now,” he smiled as he turned to you, gripping a shoulder so you didn’t topple over. Even if you were not as drunk as you were, you would have still smiled back just as wide as you were, trying to reciprocate the beautiful smile the boy was giving you.

“Johnny’s cutting his cake now, Jaemin.” Said the one person you were avoiding. Turning your head to the side so fast you could have got whiplash, you started up at Mark. Where had he come from?!

Before anyone could say anything, an off-tune rendition of Happy Birthday started, courtesy of Jaehyun. The pink-haired boy next to you, Jaemin, started singing loudly, smile still wide on his face as he watched Johnny laugh with glee, waving the knife a little too much.

From the corner of your eye you could see Mark, mouth moving with the words and eyes focused on his phone screen, recording Johnny. His lips were upturned slightly into small smile and hair falling into his eyes.

Snapping your eyes back towards the cake cutting in front of you, you chastised yourself for looking. You were supposed to be moving on, not staring at him!

Clapping with happiness after Johnny managed to cut his cake (not without whacking icing all over the counter) you turned around looking for your friends.

“Y/N can we talk?” you heard Mark say. Looking around you, you couldn’t see anyone you felt like sticking too, leaving you in a moment of panic. Not seeing a way out and senses hazy, you nodded at Mark.

Following him through the crowd you ignored his outstretched hand behind him to make sure you were keeping up with him and focused on the back of his neck.

He led you upstairs and into a bedroom you could only presume was Johnny’s; bikini calendar hiding behind the open closet door, high school graduation photo framed on the desk of him, Yuta and Taeyong. There were university photos including Jaehyun, Ten and many others you had seen downstairs. There was even some with you in them, the one standing out the most being the one taken at the first party you attended, the one where you were able to meet some of your favourite people in your life.  

It was a group photo, everyone standing far enough from the camera to make sure everyone was seen. You were sitting next to Mark on lawn chairs, hair in two French braids (courtesy of Raven who had given Yuta a braiding tutorial earlier that night) and wearing Mark’s grey zip-up hoodie. You had leaned into Mark, head titled, almost resting on his, broad grins across your faces. On the arms of the chairs, you could see yours and Mark’s hands resting very close to each other.

Not realizing you had been staring for so long, you were only knocked back to reality when Mark picked up the frame, shifting your line of vision.

“This night was really fun,” he started, smiling done at the photo. “, It was one of our favourite times together.” He said much more softly.

Sighing, you suddenly felt the room start spinning and a crushing feeling against your skull. Moving towards the bed you heard him ask, “You good?”.

You absolutely despised the genuine concern oozing from his voice.

Sitting on the bed, you attempted lying down but your dress kept riding up. Regretting the outfit choice for another time that night, you struggled for a few seconds trying to figure out how to lie down without flashing Mark until you realized there was no way. Letting out a huff you looked up to see Mark standing in front of you, varsity jacket draping across your lap before you could even protest.

Not saying anything, Mark sat on the bed next to you and then allowed his body to relax, head hitting the mattress with a soft thud.

Mimicking his actions, you lied down next to him, keeping your vision towards the ceiling.

Eyes meeting the night sky and not a popcorn ceiling, you remembered Johnny telling you that when he was younger, he had been obsessed with astronomy. Begging for a skylight, his father somehow managed to create a skylight type window in Johnny’s room. The light from the sky never seemed to bother Johnny, the bed even positioned specifically to look right out into the sky. Only child perks, you guessed.

You don’t know how long you both laid there. Unmoving, just breathing and staring into the sky. It had been long enough for the throbbing in your head to fade, leaving you with heavy eyes, fluttering closed with fatigue.

“I regret it.”

That snapped you awake.

Keeping your eyes forward to the sky, you hesitated in your response. “Regret what?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Y/N.” he said, turning to look at you. His voice was firm like that day in the café, only this time it held another emotion. Sadness? Desperation? You couldn’t tell.

Unable to stop yourself, you turned your head towards his. The proximity between you two was very limited. You could smell the beer and mint gum in his breath, could see the specks in his eyes.

“Are you okay now?” he asked. You nodded.

“Y/N… I- I’m… I’m sorry.”, he said sadly.

And because you knew Mark you knew what he meant by that. ‘I’m sorry for making you cry.’ ‘I’m sorry for making you hurt.’ ‘I’m sorry I broke your heart.’

Mouth opening to reply, you quickly shut your mouth at the sight of Mark’s watery eyes.

“Y/N… I’m in love with you. I’m still in love with you. If um… you don’t umm… if you don’t feel the same I und- “

He was cut off by your lips meeting his.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed kissing Mark until this moment right here. Pure electricity seemed to instantly course through your veins as your mind was sent into an instant frenzy.

It wasn’t until you felt hot tears falling from your eyes that you pulled away, laughing and gasping for air.

Whipping the tears away, you looked at Mark. He was smiling widely at you, soon joining in on your laughter.

Soon after you both had finished laughing for so long and hard that you were clutching your stomachs, Mark grabbed your hands with his, little giggles still leaving his lips.

“I’m still in love with you too.” You said softly after you had both calmed down.

Smiling broadly, Mark stood up, signalling for you to pass his jacket.

Fixing your dress, you handed him the jacket, him holding is open behind you, waiting for you to slip your arms inside. Basking in the scent familiar scent from the jacket (it just smelt so… Mark) you allowed Mark to pull you up with both hands.

Intertwining fingers, he led you out of the room, back into the hot house and thumping bass.

“Be mine?” he asked nervously, pausing before descending down the stairs.

“I always was.” You stated with a small smile.

Smiling so wide his eyes scrunched, he let out a sound of glee and pulled you close.

Walking down the stairs with his arms around you took you back to all of the times before the… incident and made your heart flutter.

Walking into the kitchen hand in hand, you were pleasantly surprised to see many familiar faces.

“CALLED IT!” yelled Donghyuck, Raven whacking him on the arm for yelling in her ear. “Hand it over.” He said, hand out towards Yuta.

Huffing, Yuta reached into his pocket and handed a very happy Donghyuck a twenty.

“Did you guys seriously bet on us?”, asked Mark, eyes wide.

“Ugh I had really thought today was gonna be a test run. Thought you would actually make up at Jaehyun’s party,” grumbled Yuta.

“Well I’m verrrrry happy you guys are back together,” slurred Johnny, rolling his r’s very harshly. Jaehyun pushed his hand away from a pile of icing that had landed on the counter and smiled at you and Mark.

“Congrats guys. I’m happy you worked it out.” Ever the romantic, Jaehyun smiled fondly at the two of you, Taeyong giving you both a congratulations as well.

Jeno was absolutely ecstatic at the fact that you were back together, complaining to Mark about how apparently you were “mopping around without him”. You didn’t hesitate to punch him in the arm.

“Picture time!” called Johnny, setting up his phone on the stand with the help of Taeyong.

You were surrounded by the familiar faces that had all welcomed you that first bonfire the summer you met Mark.

Leaning your head towards his, imitating the pose from the original picture, you heard Mark whisper as the flash went off.

“I love you.”

And you knew everything would be alright.

 LE FIN

[whyralltheusernamestaken]

Curse

Where she's cursed with immortality so she chases around the reincarnations of her first love over and over again and the one time she’s decided to give up, it just happens to be an explosive blonde.

Warning : none!

Words : 6590 (wtf my goal was 3000)

Masterlist 

A/N : Thank you all for being so patient. The ending is kinda rushed, but I hope you enjoy!

Quirks had left an undeniable mark on the face of society. It just came one day and slapped some magical powers on to someone and left just as quickly, with no explanation whatsoever. No one knew why, or how. Nothing could've hinted to the appearance of quirks and none of the decades of research that followed had any more insight into the matter. Y/N was quirkless. Immortal yes, but she had no quirk of herself. She was born a thousand and so years ago, in Japan, and within a decade or two, became known throughout the lands for her immaculate beauty and poise. She became an object of affection for thousands, and one of the men happened to be the emperor. Bakugou Katsuki. He had approached her presence with the sole intent of adding the most beautiful woman in the world to his harem. He was an arrogant and prideful noble, and the thought of her in his grasp has excited him to no end. He could then prance around with his head held up so high that people would crane their necks to meet his eyes. He smugly grinned at the idea of her clinging to his arm, or for her to be waiting for him back at the palace with the rest of his concubines. He flooded her with extravagant gifts, compliments and praises, small private dates in a back garden of the palace, away from prying eyes and complaints of Bakugou's other dozen girls. She had been easily wooed, being kept away from suitors from an early age, the emperor had certainly been her first escape into romance and she was ecstatic. Her parents had gleamed at the idea of her being with the most powerful man in all of Japan, and had given her away to the palace at the first suggestion of the emperor's affection. 

He had fallen in love with her, not only her beauty but her personality, her small habits and her other mannerisms. It wasn't his initial plan, he had only wanted to add her presence into his long list of women, that he had reassured the other women, but his heart can softened considerably and he had fallen hard. Anyone around the emperor could see that, even the towns' people were gossiping about it. The other concubines too, quickly caught on. She was a woman of absolute beauty, only a few hairs short of Y/N's, a princess of a famous descent from China, promised to be married to the emperor. He had taken a liking to her because like himself, she too had a quirk, which was still a very rare trait to have at the time. One of curses, sure it was evil in nature, but she had proven to be a responsible and respected lady. It all turned sour when her fiance liked another woman. In her rage, she had cursed the younger woman. The aforementioned girl had been told what had been done by the princess, by the sobbing and apologetic woman herself, but she was clueless to what extent this curse was. She had forgiven the princess straight away, an act of kindness that the nobles had shined to and the emperor had simply fell more in love with her for. But as countless years went by, she stayed the same. She then truly realised the horrors of her curse and at that moment in time, she wished she hadn't been so naive, so kind to just forgive the woman who left her life in ruins. The curse was one of immortality. Something she couldn't escape even after the princess had passed away. To watch her lovers grow up and prosper, only to stay the same young woman when she watched they started to wilt and eventually die.   And so here she was. An entity of over a thousand years old and yet she remained the same bubbly and happy woman on the outside, smiling brightly at the cameras as she walked around the towns. Everyone in Japan knew of her. Not only did her predicament attract the attention of the public, she was also the CEO of Japan's most well known and successful hero agency. She had set up the agency with her husband, Katsuki, a mere 18 years ago, before he was killed in one of the largest villain attacks in Japan history 2 years after it opened. They had employed All Might when he was in his younger days as well as worked with all of the top 10 heroes, and after his death, she become the sole chairman of the agency. And thanks to the technology present in the modern day, those who weren't previously interested in her at least knew her name. There was then the nickname the media had given her after she had survived the attack : ‘The Undead Hero.’ She sure as hell wasn’t a hero. For god’s sake she was quirkless! But the internet took joy to praising her successes within the hero world. And as a joke, an online petition started for her to become licensed pro hero and the people in charge decided there'd be no harm, since she can't die and all, in making her one, titling her in as Pro Hero Number Zero. So here you were, the country's first quirkless pro hero. ~~~ You had watched the UA sports festival, looking for students to intern here at your company. One certain blonde had caught your eye but you felt yourself flinch at the mention of his full name. It had certainly been a long time since the last time you met another reincarnation of your first love. There had been many different personalities before and the situation you met him in varied to such extent that you had given up with the idea of repeatedly seeking him out and your last encounter with him, or his spirit at least, was your breaking point. You have a good 16 years to grieve his unfortunate and untimely death but even the ten hundred years you were alive wasn't enough time for you to forget and move on. It seemed that you had a curse where you could never escape your one lover, but maybe that was the package deal with immortality. "We're definitely sending an offer out to him right boss?" your assistant, Naomi asked, writing down that all so familiar name down on a notepad. "Up to you, I'm taking a break." you replied, standing up and walking away from the big screen. You knew her eyes softened as she watched your figure retreat out of the room, after all she was there with you after your husband died. Your husband, the one who shared the same name as the boy mentioned. "Alright I'll send you the list later." she replied softly, before turning her attention back to the live broadcast, which now showed a green haired boy. "Thanks. I'll look over it and then you can send out the offers tomorrow." you said before completely leaving the room. It had been a week since the sports festival and it was time for the internships. You had a very important meeting in the morning, causing you to regrettably miss welcoming the trainee heroes to your agency. Standing up, you voiced your thanks and bowed, to which the other businessmen and women returned the guesture.

"I'll be expecting to see you soon." you smiled as Naomi showed then out. "Of course." one of them replied, smiling once more before all of them left the building. Waiting for them to disappear completely from sight, you turned back around. "Alright, what's next?" you asked, looking over. "Next we need to speak to the interns. Briefly would be fine but we need a positive review of our work place." she replied and started walking away, to which you followed. "Of course." you replied curtly. To be frank, you didn't need her to remind you how to keep up the reputation, after all you had been running the agency for almost 20 years but you bit your tongue as you didn't want her to feel as if her work was unwelcome. She was a great assistant and you knew that you needed her and her abilities. Turning the corner, someone roughly crashed you into you, sending you tumbling back a few steps. "Watch it." they snapped, sending to you a glare. "E-excuse me." Naomi stuttered. She wasn't too intimidated by the way the young boy was fuming, instead at her bosses reaction. You had a vendetta against extremely rude people and she braced herself for an ugly ending. "What?" he scowled, turning to send her a nasty look before he turned his attention back to you. You pursed your lips, unsure whether to snap back or not as you didn't want to cause a scene. The meeting had taken much longer than expected. It was only two in the afternoon but all you wanted to do was sleep, but you needed to meet the interns and consolidate the arrangements with the other heroes that worked here. "Well are you going to say anything?" he asked. "Why are you just standing there like a idiot?" "Young boy I don't think that's very appropriate to say to someone." Naomi said quietly, eyes flickering to observe your reaction. "Well it's true isn't it." You let out a sigh, deciding to not waste your energy on anything out of your plan, especially people who were unnecessarily rude. "Hey, don't ignore me." he shouted as you walked past him, your assistant shuffling behind you. You walked briskly towards the training halls, ignoring his shouts for you to acknowledge him. He eventually stopped to pick up a phone call but at that point you had already walked down two corridors, too far away to hear him stop shouting profanities at you. You pushed open the doors to the largest training hall in your building, leaning on the wall next to the door as you watched several people combat each other. You had stayed there for no more than a minute or too when the fuming blonde stomped back in. A green haired boy, Midoriya was it, waved excitedly at the him, but he simply flipped him over, moving over to the side of the hall. If they had any more interactions planned, they had to be stopped there as one of the heroes spotted you, quickly shouting for everyone to come over and you slowly walked onto on of the courts. "I'm glad you to see that none of you are slacking off." you announced loudly, your eyes scanning over the small crowd of people. "Of course not boss." a young hero replied. You smiled at her with a small nod. "Boss?" someone shouted and you turned slightly to spot the blonde from earlier, his mouth hung open. "It's nice to meet you Bakugou-san." you said, a small bitter edge to your words before you turned back to the rest, a large smile on your face. "Good afternoon everyone, it's a shame I wasn't able to welcome you this morning, I hope there hasn't been any trouble. My name is Y/N and I'm incredibly pleased that you chose to intern at my agency." "Y/N!" Midoriya shouted, a look of glee filling his face. "You're my favourite hero, I love you so much." he shouted, jumping up and down in excitement. The gesture from the boy made you grin even wider. It was almost as if some of his endless energy had been transferred to you. "That makes me very happy, thank you Midoriya." "She knows my name!" he shouted, earning a few praises and snickers. "Shut up Deku." Bakugou seethed. He was fuming at the thought of you. He had not only completely embarrassed himself in front of you, but also insulted you, the CEO! He cursed himself for not researching prior to this, but the fact that you seemed so young to him gave no implications that you were the big boss of this place. "Alright." you shouted, clapping your hands together. "Let's get this show on the road." ~~~ Midoriya had fallen asleep extremely quickly, a small 'good night Kacchan' and he had been out like a light. But the same had not befallen Bakugou and instead he stayed awake, shifting and turning restlessly as he lay on the bottom bunk. After a few more moments of him lying wide awake, he shuffled out of his bed and left the room. He walked down the corridor, planning to head towards the kitchen when he spotted a light on. It was indeed the same direction in which he wished to go so he followed it. Stepping inside the room, he saw you sat on the couch. Your back was to him and you were muttering something. As he got closer, he made out the words falling from your mouth. "He loves me, he loves me not." He turned around to exit the room, sure that you wanted nothing but space, but his foot slipped slightly and he fell slightly, cursing. You jumped at the sound behind you. "Oh I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" you asked, looking up and around at him with a sniffle. Your cheeks were flush and the tip of your nose red, a few stray tears resting on your cheeks. Bakugou stood their awkwardly as you wiped your sleeve across your eyes and cheeks. He didn't know what to do in this situation. He hadn't comforted someone in years, always opting to leave his group of friends to take care of a problem, only ever observing from the side line. "D-do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly. He tried to make sure his words were more gentle than usual, careful not to make you start crying again. Your eyes widened at his questioned but you slowly nodded. Patting the space next to you on the couch, you smiled slightly. "Have a seat Bakugou." You laughed at the irony. Here you were crying about your deceased husband as his reincarnation sat beside you, offer on the table to listen to your troubles. Your mind began to wander at the word troubles. What exactly in your life was going wrong? It was a simple answer really, everything. "So how are you?" you asked, breaking the silence. He blinked a couple times in confusion. "I'm good." he answered slowly, his voice low and hushed. "Well that's good." you nodded turning back to the lonesome rose stem in your hand that you had been previously picking the petal off from. "So why are you up?" you asked. Bakugou at this point was lost for words. Wasn't you the one who had been crying? Why were you so intrigued in asking him questions? "Couldn't sleep." he muttered, a glare on his face as he stared forwards at the coffee table, trying desperately to understand you. "Fair enough." you hummed, turning to look in the same direction as him, your eyes landing on your untouched mug of hot chocolate. "Do you want a drink?" you asked, gesturing to the mug on the table. "I haven't drank from it yet." Bakugou nodded, after all he had come out of his room for the hopes of getting a drink. "Thanks." he muttered. You watched as the boy brought the mug up to his lips and you thought back to your previous encounter with his spirit. "He liked hot chocolate too." you mumbled, turning away and back at the rose stem. "Did you say something?" he asked, mug in hand as he sent you a glance. You pursed your lips, taking a moment before shaking you head. "No, it was... nothing." you trailed off. "Well you accepted my offer so you'd better start talking." he scoffed, but his angry facade was falling apart almost as quickly as he started it and he was sure you could see through it, but you decided not to comment on it. And so you spent the rest of your night with Bakugou. He had proven to be much more thoughtful than you had imagined, less rude and obnoxious, which you were grateful for. It was obvious that he hadn't recognised you during your first encounter, and more than likely did not know about your immortality. You didn't need any more pity for that. So you talked about your husband, to an extent, keeping away from mentioning his name, instead reminiscing the memories you had with him. The younger boy listened, nodding and throwing in small comment here and there. The two of you exchanged a few more words after that topic, but in an hour or two, it was a simple silence. He had fallen asleep next to you, a peaceful look on his face. You got up and cleaned away the mug and flower petals, before returning to your room to get a blanket. Laying it gently on him, you took the liberty to press a kiss to his forehead before leaving, turning off the lights. "Sleep well Katsuki." ~~~ Bakugou was needless to say, very disappointing that he had barely seen you all week. He understood that you had a lot on your plate running a business, but a part of him had hoped that after your emotional night with him on the first day, you would at least take some time to say hello to him. He had went to the living room a further 5 more times, hoping that you would be there waiting for him. But he found himself being disappointed time and time again when he saw that there was no room with a light on in the corridor. Today was his last day of fully interning, he was due to leave the following morning and although he could say he was very happy to leave the other bastards in the company behind, he couldn't say the same for you. In truth, he had formed a small interest in you. Call it a crush or whatever, it wasn't as if he would say it out loud. Sure you had a pretty face and all, that much he would admit, but he was genuinely confused by your appearance. You said you had been running the agency for almost 20 years but you didn't look anywhere near your 40s? That had greatly puzzled the explosive boy. "Deku." he shouted, catching the attention of the smart boy as he was chatting with one of the heroes. "Y-yes Kacchan?" "How old do you think Y/N is?" he asked. The green haired boy gasped, shaking his head. "Kacchan! It's rude to ask about a girls age." he scolded him, to which Bakugou snorted. "But between you and me, I'd say about a thousand and one hundred?" "Are you shitting me you nerd?" he bellowed, hand raised with his palm upwards, ready to start an explosion. The hero chipped in. "I'd say so too. She's definitely over a thousand." she commented. "I think last year was her one thousand and seventyith birthday? I could be wrong, I wasn't invited to the party." she sulked. "You two are fucking joking right?" "We're not." the hero replied, furrowing her eyebrows before she let out a small gasp. "Are you telling me you've never heard of the boss?" "No. Should I have?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yes!" she cried out, throwing her hands up in the air, before bringing them down and massaging her forehead. "You're overreacting." Bakugou stated, giving a deadpan look to the girl as he let out a 'tch' in annoyance. "She really not Kacchan, literally everyone has heard of Y/N. She's a massive sensation in the hero community but also the beauty one, I'm not sure how you've never come across her." The truth was Bakugou had come across your name on his browser, twice, maybe three times. But most of them had popped up during the start of the school year, when Midoriya had suddenly shown up with a quirk. So as soon as he read that you were quirkless, he made sure to avoid your name like the plague. Midoriya soon left to start his patrolling, and left Bakugou standing there, thinking about you. With many more questions than he had answers. ~~~ "Y/N." he said, standing at the doorway of your office and you and your assistant stared back in confusion. "Hello there Bakugou, is there anything I can help you with?" you asked. He froze up at your question. Why was he here? He had barged past some security just a few moments prior, saying he had something urgent to talk to with the boss, but now that he was here, no excuse would pop up in his mind. "Alright Naomi, give me a few minutes." you said, handing the papers you hand in your hand off to Naomi before she nodded and left. "So." you began, leaning forwards so both your elbows were on the desk and your chin rested on the back of your intertwined fingers. "Have a seat Bakugou." You gestured to the big chair in front of your desk and he complied, sitting down in utter silence. He opened his mouth to speak but it took a few seconds for the words to come out. "I haven't seen you in a while." he blurted out. He immediately wanted to slam his head into the desk before him, cringing at his words and the smug smile that you shot him. "If I knew any better, I'd say you missed me Bakugou." “Katsuki." he corrected, eyes trailed carefully on yours. You nodded and ran a hand through your hair.

"Honestly, I'd love to stay and talk Katsuki, but I'm on a tight schedule right now." you explained, tilting your head to the side as you waited for his response. "Will I see you again tonight?" he asked, his voice so quiet that he seemed almost... shy. Your smile grew wider. "Sure thing. I'll make sure to swing around earlier so you don't need to stay up so late waiting for me." He nodded at your response and started to get up. "Tell Naomi to come back in when you leave." "Alright." he muttered, turning away towards the door. "And Katuski?" you said, earning a grunt from the younger male. "I missed you too." He quickly turned away at your statement but you could see the tips of his ears grow red. Of course you had missed him. He was the only other person you confided in about your husband other than Naomi. But it was truly Bakugou Katsuki that you had missed. His soul that you had hopelessly fell in love with over and over again. The result was always the same, and after each time, you would tell yourself that it was the last. But he would always come back. And you, once again, would fall for him, like a drug that you simply couldn't fight the addiction of. And so you braced yourself for another heartbreak. After all, it was inevitable. ~~~ Bakugou had waited for you in the living room of the dorm space he currently stayed in, a cup of chocolate in his hands and one for you placed on the coffee table. You kept to your word and came earlier. It was around 11pm when you slipped into the dorm floor of the building. Seeing the light on, you made your way quietly towards it. "Hey." you said, your voice warm and gentle as he looked up towards you, moving to hand you the mug. "Thank you." You sat down on the couch with your legs crossed and he chucked a blanket to yo, to which you laid on your lap. "Is there anything in specific you want to talk about?" "You." he stated. You hummed in response. The rest of the night he asked questions about you, your immortality and more about your latest deceased husband, who he found out the name of. He recognised the hurt that flashed in your eyes as you recalled telling him about your immortality. He had be an accepting person, loving you for you as a person and paying little to no mind to your unchanging outer appearance. At least that was what it seemed on the outside. There had been times were his act slipped and he crumbled, talking about how he wanted to grow old with you, not for you to look the same when he was in his older years and your children looked the same age as you. But of course you hadn't even gotten the chance to think about having children, setting up the agency had taken up most of your time, and which to this day you still regret. You wished you had spent more time with him, appreciating him instead of work, before his dying moment. You hadn't thought too much about things, his presence made you live in the moment, not caring about any problems or consequences as long as he was with you. But of course he wasn't. He had left too early. The younger boy had wrapped an arm around your shoulder when you began to sniffle, grabbing a box of tissues from the table for you. After he was satisfied with the amount of answers you gave him, he opened up about the guilt that he felt for All Might's retirement. He told you about the things he witnessed during the fight against All for One, how utterly useless he felt. He followed with nightmares that visited him almost every night, how he was force himself to stay awake to avoid them, causing him to form a habit of being unable to sleep. You had been so understanding and sweet that the boy couldn't help but let out a few tears, relishing in your soft touches and soothing tone that he eventually fell asleep in your arms. The following morning he waited excitedly for you too see him off along with the other heroes from your company. But you didn't come. He left in the train with a heavy heart, head titled backwards against the glass window as he thought back. He hadn't seen you in the morning, waking up alone and in his own bed. He had wandered out into the living room, hoping that your figure would be sleeping on the couch, but alas, you weren't there. His way home was unusually silent. Midoriya had definitely picked up on it but when he attempted to talk to the blonde, he only received shouts and threats. He eventually gave up, opting to leave the teen to his own devices. Once Bakugou returned home, he unpacked him clothes, throwing everything into a pile to wash. He turned every pocket inside out and when he got to his pajama bottom, a small piece of paper fell out. 'Hey sorry I had to leave so early in the morning, here's my number if you wanted to talk more. xxxxx-xxx-xxx' He instantly smiled, diving for his phone, typing your number in just as quickly before he sent you a text. ~~~ It had been a few months since the internships and Bakugou had found himself calling you on a regular basis. It would mostly be in late into the night, with you obviously busy with your agency during the daylight hours. You would talk about your day, ask him about his. He would often complain about his classmates, maybe his teacher, but on some rare occasions he would say something nice about them, like how Shitty hair had improved in combat or that Deku was getting progressively less annoying. You listened, giving him tips about a variety of things, ranging from things about the general hero world or what he should get for his pink skinned friend's birthday. And he soon found himself hopelessly falling in love with you. He hadn't planned for this to happen. Fuck, he'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't. He didn't want to have to deal with the consequences of your immortality, but he found himself crawling back to you even at a bat of your eyelashes. Your grasp on him was truly... inescapable. He had been horrified at the thought, refusing to acknowledge your existence. Your calls would go through to voicemail, your texts left unread. You didn't understand why he was ghosting you, beating yourself up about it over a few glasses of wine as you slowly sunk into sadness. It was another simply another repeated loop and you recognised all of the signs, but you felt what was left of your heart completely shatter. Sure you had previous reincarnations reject you because they disliked, or even feared, the idea of you being immortal, but they had made it clear at the beginning, not half a year into talking with you daily. Your mood soured drastically, and Naomi had tried to persuade you into talking to her, but you refused to, keeping all of your thoughts bottled up. You buried yourself with more and more work, creating a wall around you that even the one or two friends you had couldn't break down, let alone your employees. The company continued to receive praise, by media and heroes alike, but what used to be your sole joy and pride left nothing but a bitter taste in your mouth. You had gotten so used to Bakugou's company that without hearing his voice left you so empty. And to save yourself from being hurt like a broken record on repeat, you gave up on love. ~~~ It was on an interview that Bakugou witnessed the true extent of what his actions had done to you. He had the unfortunate timing of walking in when Midoriya was watching your interview live on the big screen in the common room. Bakugou had initially refused to stay, but his friends had forced him to, saying something about how he should see how his old mentor was doing. He had complained to the point where his friends willingly let him go but instead he begrudgingly stayed, standing in the corner of the room with his arms crossed as he furrowed his brows at the screen You sat across from the interviewer, a tired expression on your face as you explained the agency's plans and future aims. The other woman nodded, asking questions here and there, and then it came to the questions fans asked. "Have you been taking care of yourself?" The question caught you off guard and your breath hitched. You tried to take a deep breath in but everything around you started to blur together into nothing but a background noise. "S-sorry, could I have a moment?" you asked, but before she gave you any answer, you had already left the set. At the same time, Bakugou slipped out of the common room, his heart clenching at the terrible state you were in. When he first met you, only a few months ago, you stood high with your head help up high, a sort of excitement in your eyes, an aura of authority when you dared to ignore him! But now you were reduced to short sentences and even shorter smiles, fake and forced. And unbeknown to you, you were doing the same to him. His loud shouts had reduced to smaller, and less often sharp erratic outbursts. The distance he had put between him and his friends was almost immeasurable and none of them could reach even close enough to console him in the slightest. He had shut the world out completely, solely focusing on training and school work. He gritted his teeth as he fought back the itch to call you, but eventually he relented, taking him phone out of his pocket and dialling on your number. He sure wasn't expecting you to pick up, but when you did, his heart felt elated. "Hello?" you asked, your phone on speaker by the side as you dried your hands in the bathroom, lookign at yourself in the mirror and giving yourself an encouraging nod. "H-hi." he whispered, locking himself up in his room as he sat down on the floor, his back against the door. "I'm sorry." ~~~ He was in his early twenties, too young to be giving up what his future held. You hadn't meant to choose his path for him, but you had indirectly done so when you said no. So there he sat with his head in his hands, cheeks stained with tears and the ring somewhere lost in the corner of his room. It was selfish, you knew, but the time you spent with him only felt like a ticking bomb, each week, day, hour even, was counting down to the day in which you would lose him. And you weren't ready. He knew it was a stupid move to make. After all, you have discussed with him countless times about how scared you were to commit to a relationship you knew would once again end up in flames. "Death is inevitable." he said, watching as you fiddled with his sleeve as you laid together on the couch. "Well not for me." you countered back. "If you could remove this curse, would you?" "I don't know Katsuki. I'm honestly so scared." You shifted so your face was buried in his chest. "I've seen what death can do and I'm just so, so scared." "I want to grow old with someone I love." you continued. "I really do. But I don't know how to feel knowing that was my last few years alive. I've been around for so long that I've become afraid to die." "I'm tired of the heartbreak, but there's always a comforting moment because I know you'll come back. Sooner or later, your soul will be back in my arms, whether it takes 20 years or 200. But if I were to find a way to remove my curse and you died before me, I'd never see you again." He found himself at a lack of words that day. Nothing would leave his mouth so the only thing he could do to comfort you was to hug you even tighter. Eventually something came to his mind. "What if I just find a way to be immortal too?" he asked. You looked up at him. "That's highly illegal Katsuki. Think about it, if you could easily do that, then everyone would be able to live forever. And normally, the effect of the quirk disappears as soon as they die." He hummed in response, mood downcast that he couldn't help you in any way. He spent the rest of the night comforting you to the best of his abilities. You truly had felt better after his words, but he didn't see the subtle change in mood. He wanted to reassure you, to be someone you could rely on. But all he brought into your life was constant worry. He replayed your words in his head on a loop. He already saw this coming, but his constant refusal to acknowledge his situation had led to his downfall.   You had sent him a quick message and in the following days, you hadn't picked up his calls in days. He had called your assistant as well as visited your company, but he was told you weren’t there. He cried in anguish at how hell bent you were at avoiding him, even going to the extent of having your employees lie for you. But he soon found that they weren't lying. No one had seen you in weeks and your fans had picked up on it fairly quickly. There were articles all over the internet, forums and interviews with her assistant and closest friend. "She has left on her own accord." Naomi stated as multiple cameras flashed in her eyes. You had told her you were out to seek happiness, as vague as it had been, and that she needed to cover for you during the month or so that you were gone. That was all of the information you had given her, before you disappeared without a trace. She sighed at your foolishness but part of her resonated with you, knowing she too would do anything for her love.  You sent Bakugou a 'I'll talk to you later' text, before taking apart your phone, leaving it under your pillow before grabbing your get away bag and leaving by train. His proposal haunted your every thought, and it drove you insane. He knew you were scared of commitment and heartache and yet he still asked you! You didn't blame him though. More so yourself. Nobody had made you talk to him about your troubles or reach out to him. You had given him your phone number. He could've left your company with new knowledge about the hero world and not about you, but he already had your heart and you had taken the opportunity to reconcile with your first love, regardless of whether it would leave you in ruins in the future. You were going to make this right. You were so utterly tired of the constant dull looming tide of sadness, doubt, anger. You wanted it to end, you really did. You had told Bakugou you were scared of dying. You were. But your greatest fear was losing him and you couldn't take it anymore. You raised your hand to knock and a large smile decorated your face. It had been a good month since you had last talked to him. You had set out to the remote countryside, searching for some young woman who had a curse removing quirk. 

You had gone with no expectations, telling yourself over and over again that you would be fine if it was unsuccessful. But deep down you knew you would be distraught if your current situation could not change.

The door opened to the blonde, his instantly furrowed his brows as his mouth hung open.

"Hey Katsuki." "Y-Y/N?" "I think I'm going to die-" "What?" he shouted, startling you. "Let me finish." you laughed. "I think I'm going to die in 50 or so years. Hopefully longer if that means I can be with you until old age." "W-what are you talking about?" he asked, confusion littering his face. "I'm no longer immortal." you grinned, before it fell slightly. "At least I think I am, the girl told me he got rid of the curse fully, but I’m not expecting too much." He continued to stutter, incoherent sentences falling from his lips as he fought back tears. "Surprise?" you asked, letting out a nervous chuckle. You started to grow worried at his reaction. You wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him, but your feet stayed frozen in place, after all you had rejected him a month or so ago.   "Y-you got rid of your curse?" You nodded and he asked another question. "For me?" "Of course silly. Who else am I going to die with?" you laughed. His nose scrunched up as he tried desperately to comprehend the situation. "Aren't you scared?" "You'll be there with me right?" "Of course." he quickly said, nodding his head. "I thought." he trailed off and wrapped you up in his arms, head in the crook of your neck as his body shook with sobs. "I thought you left me." "I'm sorry." you said repeating it quietly over and over again. "I love you so much." "I love you too."

Taglist : 

@boku-no-family @toobsessedsstuff @renarderouges @thatonegeekchick @mrminyoongles @yourscorpiodaddy​

[myheartrevealedocs]

Untouchable- Ch 2: The Offer

Summary: A Spencer Reid x OC fanfic that retells select episodes, starting in season 1, from the point of view of Lydia Ambers, a forensic scientist.

Warnings: swearing, discussion about death and illegal activity (but like, at half the normal Criminal Minds level)

Ch 1 | Ch 3 | About Lydia

~ ~ ~

“You got it all sorted out?” Gideon asked Hotch as he walked into his office. It had been a month since their case in Santa Cruz and Gideon had been on Hotch’s ass about this since they got back.

“It’s… not a job…” Hotch started. “I talked to Strauss and she said that there was no proof that a forensic scientist would be of any benefit to the team. Police departments provide them and local forensic scientists have access to scenes sooner.”

“Police departments can also have media liaisons and tech analysts, but we bring in our own,” he argued. “I spoke to some of Lydia’s old professors and they said that she’s not only a good crime scene investigator, but her major was chemistry and she’s fit to get a job in DNA analysis or toxicology.”

“Gideon, what did I say about not getting involved? Strauss needs proof that she is an asset to the team before paying her a salary. So, I got her to agree to let Lydia work here as an intern under your supervision.”

“Done,” Gideon said. “By the end of the month, she’ll have proven worthy of a spot on this team.”

“No, there’s more,” Hotch told him, frustrated. “She only gets to work jobs that we clearly need her on and she gets no more than two cases every 50 days.”

“Fine, fine,” Gideon replied, which did nothing to ease Hotch’s worry. He, too, had been impressed by Lydia during the Jonathan Carrey case, but there were parameters on hiring people into the FBI and Gideon acted like those meant nothing.

He’d been the same way about Reid after he first spoke to him, but Reid was cut out to be a profiler from day one and they had an opening for him. Gideon wanted Hotch to simply create a brand new job title and salary for Lydia and he couldn’t do that.

“Should I call her and tell her to pack up her things and move to DC?”

Hotch blinked. “You haven’t already told her about the possibility of a job, have you?”

“No,” Gideon laughed. “I can’t promise her a job when I don't have the jurisdiction to hire anybody.”

That was a relief, but Hotch was still afraid Gideon had let on too much. He had just admitted to calling her professors to learn more about her abilities. So, he replied, “You can tell her that we have an internship position that she might be interested in and ask her about her ability to leave California. That is all.”

~ ~ ~

“Agent Hotchner. Agent Gideon,” Lydia greeted as she entered the BAU. It was crazy enough to be in Virginia, seeing as she’d never left California, but FBI headquarters?

She shuffled around nervously and adjusted her glasses numerous times despite the fact they were already as far up her nose as they could go.

“Lydia,” Gideon greeted, warmly. “How was your flight?”

“It was alright. Exciting. I’ve never been on an airplane before.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. No one should have to go through airport security for their first time alone,” Hotch said. “Why don’t we step into my office?”

He and Gideon led the way into the bullpen and around to his office. Lydia’s eyes darted around, seeing Morgan, Elle, and Reid at their desks, engrossed in their work. She wondered if any of them would even recognize her if she caught their eye. She was surprised enough when Gideon called.

“I assume you’ve been considering my offer?” Gideon asked, closing the door behind her.

“Considering, yes. But it would be… difficult, to say the least. I’d love to hear it from your mouths… the offer, that is.”

Hotch sat down at his desk and gestured for her to do the same.

“Agent Gideon and I would like to offer you an internship here at the BAU as a forensic science technician. When we took you on as a consultant in Santa Cruz, you proved to have inspiring potential. You would only be called out for occasional cases, once every month or so. Agent Gideon would be your supervisor.”

“And this would mean moving to DC?”

“Eventually, yes. We can’t exactly fly you out to every new scene from California. It would be easier to have you here, getting briefed with us, taking the jet, etcetera. You’ll also need to go through a training period here and likely will be asked to work in the office, even when you aren’t on a case. How big of a problem would that be? Do you have a lot of family there?”

“No, not family. I mean, it’s just me and my sister and she’s been doing just fine on her own while I’ve been at college, so we’ll manage the distance. The issue is I’m set to start a masters program next semester. I’m just… unsure how I feel about dropping out of school. I know this is a crazy opportunity, but it’s not a full-time job. And if I don’t do well and you guys decide not to keep me, I’m poor and stuck in DC.”

Gideon, who’d been hovering in the back of the room stepped forward. “If we fire you for some reason, I promise to personally pay for your flight back to California.” It was a joke, but in all seriousness, a flight wasn’t even half of it.

“You wouldn’t have to drop out,” Hotch added. “Many schools nearby would be happy to have you and the Bureau rarely has problems with schools refusing to work around our interns schedules. And even if that’s too difficult, this experience will likely open up many opportunities in the future. I’d be happy to write you a million letters of recommendation should you decide to find work elsewhere.”

“I, uh-”

“Hey Hotch?” A familiar voice called, knocking on the door.

He apologized to her momentarily, before saying, “Come in, Reid.”

The door swung open and the boy looked right over Lydia’s head to his boss. “JJ wanted me to tell you that she…”

He trailed off as he felt more pairs of eyes on him. He glanced at Gideon before finally landing on Lydia.

She decided to make the first move, seeing as he was stunned into silence. “Dr. Reid, how nice to see you again.” She stood up to greet him, a smile gracing her features.

“Lydia, I uh… Sorry, to interrupt I really had no- Oh! And it’s nice to see you, too,” he fumbled. “I’ll… I can talk to Hotch later. Sorry, again for interrupting.” And with that he shut the door and was gone.

“Sorry about that. I figured it might have been important, that’s why I invited him in. What were you going to say?”

Lydia froze, her mind drifting elsewhere. “Does the team know? That you are offering an internship into the team?”

Hotch shook his head. “We aren’t offering an internship into the team. We’re offering you an internship into the team. We were waiting to see if you agreed to it.”

“Well, I don’t want to force them to work with someone super under experienced. They aren’t paid to be teachers.”

“The only one who’s going to be teaching you anything is me,” Gideon reassured her. “You are more than capable of holding your own with them. I trust you.”

Lydia felt her throat close up. It was all set up. A job she couldn’t even dream of and here they were, offering it up on a silver platter. “So, this is all… serious. I move to DC and just… work for the FBI all of a sudden?”

“If that’s what you want, then yes. That’s our offer.”

Lydia looked Hotch over, as if trying to profile whether or not he was lying. And finally, she said, “I would like that. Thank you.”

~ ~ ~

“You’ll need to fill out some legal release forms, medical history forms, and I’ll get to work on setting you up for your training period and psychological assessment,” a charming girl named Penelope Garcia explained. Gideon had introduced her as the BAU’s technical analyst.

Her office was brightly decorated and she handed Lydia all the information she needed with a huge smile.

“I’m going to be asked to do a thorough background check on you, as well. But that information goes straight to Hotch and Gideon, no one else.”

Lydia chuckled slightly. “I don’t think I have any secrets, but thanks for the warning.”

“Of course!” she replied.

“No secrets?” Gideon asked. “If I remember correctly, you refused to explain anything about yourself that didn’t pertain to the case when I first met you.”

Lydia hesitated slightly. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“What were you trying to hide?” he countered. “If you’re such an open book, you can tell me.”

“I was just angry!” she argued. “It isn’t about hiding, it’s just that after my mom died, I really believed that I was explosive and so I avoid any topics that bring out my stronger emotions. And you were trying to push all my buttons. I was stressed!”

She wasn't sure if Gideon was just an attentive listener or if he was simply interested in her background, but his eyes longed for her to go on. “Explosive?”

“That’s how I got this limp.”

Normally, nothing anyone could say would prompt her to give away more information than necessary. She always tried to excuse it as ‘no one asked’ rather than blatantly avoiding certain topics, but it was pretty obvious to just about anyone she’d met that Lydia was not proud of her past. So whatever it was about Gideon that convinced her to add that comment was something pretty special.

“How?” It was Garcia this time.

The young girl laughed. “When I was 16, I was having some issues and one day I was trying to calm myself down… I often did this by physically getting my energy out so I was punching pillows and throwing things and I kicked something that was heavier than I expected and broke my foot.” She nodded, like she was remembering it fondly, but the other two could tell that it was a cover for her uncomfort. “And then, I was mad because I hadn’t solved my problem and I’d rendered myself useless, so I started walking on it before it was healed. I did dumb shit. I felt like I deserved the pain for being so uncontained and brash. And then the arch of my foot healed wrong and I had to live with a more… permanent reminder of my attitude.”

“Sixteen,” Gideon mumbled. “Is that when your father died?”

Garcia looked shocked that her superior would even say such a thing but Lydia was just intrigued, “What makes you say that?”

He shrugged. “You said that your only family is your sister. So, I figure both your parents are far out of the picture. You said your mom died when you were little, which triggered your outbursts. So, I figured that perhaps you lost your dad as well and if you were having major anger issues at 16, could be due to the loss of your second parent. Brings up old scars.”

She paused, a somewhat sad smirk gracing her face. “My dad’s not dead, but you’re pretty close. When I was 16, my father was sent to prison.”

Garcia and Gideon’s faces read with immediate regret. So, Lydia played it off quickly.

“Don’t stress about it. He’s not a murderer or anything and it’s not… important.”

She hesitated to explain what he did. She figured they were bound to find out soon enough and she really would rather not say it outloud, so she changed the subject.

“Hey Garcia? Do you think you could help me work on transferring schools? Agent Gideon suggested that I apply for online courses rather than continuing to learn on campus and I’m still not sure if I can reapply for everything so late. And I know your job isn’t navigating college websites or anything, but you are good at tech and I’d love some help.”

She brightened almost immediately. “Sure, sweetheart!”

[wowweeharrystyles]

Part 4 | Ripped Trousers & Giving In | 8.5K

‘Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Masterlist

A/N: these videos from HSLOT18 inspired me a LOT to write this chapter sooooo x x x x (let me tell you... these videos... whewwww) 

“I didn’t get a chance to bet against you…. so I still get to keep my job yeah?” Aurora asks waving a folded piece of paper as she walks towards Harry. Harry laughs before pulling her into a hug. 

“Only get to keep it cause I need ya to tie to those damn bows on my shirts. Remind me why we chose so many shirts like that?” He gives her a cheeky smile when he leans back to look at her, his hands clasping at her lower back. Her laugh fills the space of the empty coffee shop and Harry’s smile grows bigger. Aurora pushes the lone curl that has fallen onto his forehead back up to fit in with the rest of his curls. 

Harry’s clad in his favourite slim fit black gucci trousers and a worn in white t shirt. All Harry’s note had lead on was that they’d be walking a bit, noting to wear“comfortable shoes” and then the name of the coffee shop he’d meet her at. 

“So what kind of plans do you have up your sleeves?”

“How do you feel about museums?” He laughs when he sees her face light up. “Guess you like them?” 

“Is it that obvious?” She giggles as her hands fly up to cover her face. 

“Yes.” She groans at his eager response. “But it’s kinda cute, if I’m honest.” 

“Come on, you’ve got like a 30 second window before I get so embarrassed about my excitement to go to a museum in Barcelona that I bail on you and spend the rest of the day watching my entire iTunes movie collection.” 

“You will have plenty of time to watch ‘This Is Us’ later.” Aurora rolls her eyes at him as he grabs their coffees from the barista and leads them out of the shop. 

They spend the majority of the afternoon walking through Fundación Joan Miró. Harry’s hand rarely leaves the small of Aurora’s back the entire time through the museum. During those rare times, he’s towing her along with her hand in his. Harry is thankful for the time they get to spend together on a free day, a day neither of them have to work. He tells her this repeatedly as they admire the art. 

| | | | |

They’re tucked away in the corner table on the patio seating at a local restaurant harry picked out as the sun is setting that evening. Aurora can’t help but admire the way the lighter green flecks in Harry’s eyes sparkly from the reflection of the fairy lights that line the trellises of the patio. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Harry asks before sipping his wine. Aurora fiddles with the stem of her wine glass for a moment. 

“Hm?” She shakes her head. “Nothing really.” Harry raises an eyebrow at her. 

“Seems like something,” he says softly, leaning forward. 

Aurora scrunches her nose with a small smirk trying to maneuver her thoughts. “Today was just really nice.” She sips her wine so she doesn’t say more. 

Dinner is full of small glances and sweet smiles. Harry, like the gentleman he is, walks Aurora to her hotel room door and gives her a kiss on the cheek when they finally say goodnight. 

| | | | |

Aurora is sitting on the counter of the sink while Harry finishes getting ready for the show tonight. She’s admiring the way his hair is sitting perfectly and the way that his suit sparkles even in the fluorescent lights of the arena bathroom. 

“Hand me the Tom Ford bottle there, love?” Harry’s question pulls her out of her daze. She hands him the bottle after taking a look at it. 

Helene gives Aurora a look. Aurora spilled everything to her on the flight to Spain and she’s been teasing and shooting her cheeky looks relentlessly all day. While Aurora was steaming Harry’s suit earlier and Harry was going on and on about the museum they went to yesterday as Ayae messed about with his hair Helene couldn’t help but giggle along with the two of them. Harry was exaggerating Aurora’s excitement about the museum and she was  fighting him about it. “Thought she might faint from excitement” he told Ayae like Helene and Aurora weren’t right there with them. The 4 of them were comfortable and carefree together before shows. Harry liked to keep a light mood while he gets ready. Once he starts brushing his teeth though, he gets all serious. Aurora finds it quite entertaining to see the stark difference. 

Harry continuously jokes with the girls and picks fun at Aurora. He just HAS to bring up Aurora’s movie collection too. When he starts listing off the movie titles in her collection Helene and Ayae burst into a fit of laughter. Aurora rolls her eyes, something that has become a normal occurrence in any conversation with Harry. 

Now, here in the bathroom the conversation has settled down and Harry is generally silent. He’s already brushed his teeth and is now just taking the time to focus and calm down his recurring nerves that pop up every night. Besides Harry’s question, the only other sound that echoes in the empty bathroom is the click of Helene’s camera. Harry’s spraying his cologne on his neck when Helene’s shutter goes off again. “I’m gonna go grab a different lens for the show. Good luck tonight, H!” and at that Aurora and Harry are left alone in the echoey bathroom. 

Aurora draws her attention back to Harry who is setting the Tom Ford bottle back on the counter. He runs his hands lightly through his hair, turning his head slightly so the strong line of his jaw is emphasised. Aurora reaches out towards him, tugging on the bottom hem of his jacket. Harry turns towards her and raises his eyebrows at her. A small smirk appears on his face as he sees the smile on Aurora’s face. He takes one step closer to her and fits himself between her legs. Her legs that were once swinging freely off the counter now completely still as his hands land on her thighs near her knees. Harry reaches his head down to her level and a lock of curls fall out of place and catch on his eyelashes. Aurora first reaches for the curls, swiping them away from his eye but they fall right back. Then, she uses her pointer finger on the side of his chin to turn his head back to the angle that showcases his jawline so well. She places a soft kiss at the hinge of his jaw. Harry giggles lowly at the light touch. When Aurora pulls away to get a good look at him Harry opens his mouth to say something but before he can get a single sound out Harry’s named is getting called repeatedly from the hallway. Most likely Jeff looking for him. Harry’s head drops back on his shoulders and a light groan comes from the back of his throat. 

“Always thinks I’m gonna be late,” he comments. “Gonna watch from the audience tonight?” Harry asks. Aurora nods. 

“Absolutely. Gotta see how this suit sparkles under the stage lighting,” she says, pulling the edges of the jacket together. She buttons it closed for him. 

“All you care about is seeing my suits on stage…” 

“Quite like to see the person wearing them too,” she mumbles. That earns a kiss to her cheek and both of his hands squeeze at her knees. Harry’s name is called again but much louder now. “Good luck,” she presses a kiss close to his mouth, only being able to reach her neck up so high. Even with sitting on a high counter, he’s still much taller than she is. 

| | | | |

Aurora finds her favourite spot in the audience, the back of the pit but still close enough to the crowd of fans that she can feed off their energy and hide her dancing if she needs too. From here she also gets an amazing view of the stage but her absolute favourite part of standing here is when the show starts and the screen rises up. Harry’s comment earlier was partially right. She does love seeing how his suits look on stage but what she loves most about it is the crowd’s reaction. She loves hearing their speculations before the show starts, she loves how the screams heighten when they get a little glimpse of him and she really loves seeing friends turn to each other, smiles covering their entire face, yelling some sort of comment to each other. Tonight she makes out a few screaming comments along the lines of sequins, glitter, and sparkly. Someone standing nearby comments about his hair and Aurora nods to herself with a laugh. His hair becomes somewhat of a thing throughout the entire performance. The stray curl she repeatedly pushed away from his face throughout yesterday and today fell into his eyes repeatedly throughout the show. Helene found Aurora once Harry launched into ‘Anna’. Harry’s adorn in a rainbow flower lei and one of the many pride flags draped around his shoulders. Harry’s incredibly carefree on stage and Aurora admires that about him so much. He’s goofy, and playful, and giggly but still puts on the best show he possibly can. Helene and Aurora sing along to ‘Anna’ and laugh at Harry’s dance moves during ‘What Makes You Beautiful’. They see Harry turn to Mitch and say something on stage, all while reaching down to the inside seam of his pants. 

“Did he just rip his trousers?” Helene asks Aurora in disbelief. 

“Oh god. He did, didn’t he?” Aurora rolls her eyes and her head falls back on her neck, a short chuckle leaving her mouth. “Well… guess I gotta go handle that. He’s got one more before he walks off yeah?” 

Helene nods. “Good luck.” 

Aurora shows her pass to the security at the edge of the pit, then again to another guard at the curtain that leads backstage. Aurora can hear Harry finishing the final chorus of ‘Sign Of The Times’ when she gets to the mini makeshift dressing room that’s located underneath the stage. Aurora is sure to stand out of the way of the entrance and gets her needle, thread and scissors ready. Harry’s laugh fills the small room before he’s even there. 

“Ror!” he exclaims when he sees her. 

“Ripped your pants huh?” 

“Don’t need to fix ‘em now, love. Only got 3 more songs, I’ll be fine.” He’s all smiles and still in the midst of his concert high. He’s also not logical when he’s like this. 

“Yeah, 2 of which are Chain and Kiwi. Your pants will not last through 10 seconds of either of those songs.” Aurora laughs at the look on his face then juts her empty hand out. “Come on, just give me your pants, they’ll be fixed in a second.” Harry rolls his eyes but starts to unbutton his pants anyways. 

The sight of Harry running to the bathroom in his suit jacket, boxers, tall black socks and boots was even funnier than the fact that he ripped a damn hole in his insanely expensive pants. She laughs as she starts to stitch up the hole. Harry’s back in less than 30 seconds and he’s chugging down his 2nd water bottle since he left the stage. He leans down and presses a kiss to Aurora’s cheek. Then another. With the 3rd kiss he wraps his arms around her shoulders. 

“Harry, I can’t fix your damn pants with you like this,” she whines. 

“Sorry,” he whispers lowly in her ear before stepping away from her. 

Aurora knots the thread as best as she can so hopefully he doesn’t rip them again in the next 30 

minutes. Harry slides the trousers on carefully and Aurora goes to leave so she can see the rest of the show. 

“Thank you, love,” Harry says grabbing onto her hand. When she turns around he’s much closer than she thought he would be. That one curl has fallen in front of his eyes again. Aurora reaches up to move it back into place. She can feel the weight of his hands at her waist and for a brief moment both of them are able to block out the deafening screams and the chanting of his name coming from a few feet above them. Harry presses his forehead to Aurora’s and she feels slightly dizzy. He smiles at her lightly and she remembers the smile he gave her while he was singing “Ever Since New York.” He’s started to give her the same smile during the exact part every show. That one smile makes her feel like she does right now in this tiny room. Somehow in a room of thousands and thousands of people he can make it feel like it’s just her and Harry. Without a doubt, goosebumps arise on her skin. 

Harry’s name is called by the stage manager and they’re both brought back to the reality in front of them. Harry presses a kiss to Aurora’s forehead before thanking her again and running up the stairs. She peeks through the curtain at the bottom of the stairs. The single spotlight casts a shadow down the stairs as Harry stands at the mic, center stage. Harry’s voice matches the simplicity of the guitar that opens ‘From The Dining Table.’ Aurora’s heart drops every time she listens to him perform this song. The exclusive view she has right now adds to the experience and she catches herself choking back a few tears. His music is the first thing she fell for and she’s constantly reminded why. Before she knows it, the beginning of ‘The Chain’ echoes through the entire arena and Aurora makes her way to the side of the stage to watch the rest of the show.

| | | | |

“Wish you would’ve come out with us last night,” Harry comments as he walks with Aurora down the hall of the arena in Madrid. He has his arm swung around her shoulder and is telling her about how Mitch was telling this outrageous story and even got up and reenacted it all for the group. Aurora laughs along with Harry’s story.

“Maybe next time, Harry,” she offers, hoping one day she’ll actually get the courage to say yes to 

going with. 

“I’ve gotta meet with my trainer, but I’ll find ya later okay?” He offers her a lopsided smile, “could watch a movie or something before we have to get to work.” Aurora nods at him with a smile before he’s off down the hall. 

| | | | |

Helene is going through some of the photos she’s taken the past few days on the couch with Aurora. They’ve been the only ones in their green room all afternoon. A lot of the crew took the chance to sight see or sleep in so the arena isn’t too busy yet. 

“Aurora!” Helene squeals, “Look at this one of you and Harry.” Aurora looks up from her phone to Helene’s computer screen. 

“Of me and Harry?” She questions. and to her disbelief, on the screen is a photo of Harry and Aurora from last night. It’s nearly identical to the photo Helene choose for Harry’s social channels, but instead of seeing Harry’s reflection in the mirror, the photo was taken from a slightly different angle and you can see Aurora’s frame seated on top of the counter. Aurora face is soft and Harry has a slight smile on his face. 

“Imagine if we posted this photo on accident?”

“Helene!” Aurora yells. “That would be an absolute mess and I would have to change my name and leave the country. Hard pass.” Then their both in laughing fits. 

“That would stir some shit up,” Helene comments when she can finally catch her breath. 

“Ror!!!” Harry’s voice booms through the nearly empty room. “What’re you two up to?” He questions when he sees them trying to suppress their giggles

Helene and Aurora look at each other and burst into laughter again, Aurora can’t stop soon enough to stop Helene from showing Harry the photo of the 2 of them. She has the urge to stop him from seeing the photo, from seeing the way she was truly looking at him in awe while he was getting ready. She doesn’t ever remember making eye contact with him in that moment and Helene must have snapped the photo so fast that she caught the perfect moment. 

“Oh,” is all that comes out of Harry’s mouth the second he sees it. Aurora doesn’t know what to do in the moment and she just waits to see how Harry reacts. A smile starts to tear at his lips and within the same second he pulls his lips in by his teeth, doing his best to hide the smile that threatens to cover his entire face. The dimple that still shows up regardless tells all. He huffs after a moment. “Would ya send that one to me, Tiny?” 

‘Tiny’, what Harry’s nicknamed Helene, nods and quickly sends it over, Harry’s phone dinging in his pocket. Harry ignores it but thanks Helene before asking her if she wants to grab snacks and watch a movie with Aurora and him. She kindly declines and when Harry isn’t looking at her she winks at Aurora. Aurora thinks she might get a headache from all the eye rolls she has to do on a day to day basis. 

| | | | |

Aurora is having trouble keeping her eyes open when Reese Witherspoon as Elle Woods pops up on her computer screen dressed in a hot pink suit. She told Harry when they pressed play on the movie that she was pretty tired and honestly didn’t think she would last an entire movie. She suggested they watch an episode of ‘friends’ instead but he insisted on playing Legally Blonde. He pulled Aurora by the waist and situated her in front of him on the couch, pulling her shoulders back so she could lay her head back on his chest. 

“Don’t mind if ya fall asleep on me,” he had whispered into her hair when the opening titles came up. 

Now, Aurora’s eyes are fluttering shut, not able to fight the tiredness off any longer. She lets go of the last bit of her weight she was supporting herself and is limp against Harry’s chest. Harry only tightens his arm around her waist when he smiles, noticing she’s finally given in to the sleep her body needed so badly. Harry can’t pay attention to the rest of the movie and he’s a bit sad that they didn’t get to watch and quote along to both of their favourite part. Instead, as Elle Woods repeatedly makes note that the daughter took a shower, he presses a kiss to her hair, breathing in the so uniquely Aurora scent. He can’t put his finger on it, but it’s something floral and coconutty with a hint of woodsy-ness to it. Harry tries to focus on the ending of the movie, his eyes start to well up at the end, without a doubt, a good distraction from Aurora’s sleeping body on top of him. He focuses on the small huffs of air that she lets out and rubs his thumb into her forearm, leaving behind goosebumps. He slumps down the couch a bit further, still holding her tight against him. He lets the end credits roll and once the room is silent, Aurora starts to stir. She mumbles an apology and he’s shushing her while she rolls her over so she’s facing him. Harry’s lips graze over her exposed ear and he presses light kisses down her jaw. 

Aurora’s still groggy from her mini nap and his lips on her skin is a feeling she can’t describe. Harry takes over all of her senses so quickly. His chest pressed against hers and his lips roaming her face is a bit overwhelming.

“Hey,” Harry says with a short giggle, his nose scrunching up when he meets his eyes with hers. His nose brushes against Aurora’s, earning a short giggle from her as well. 

“Should probably start getting everything ready…” Aurora whispers. She’s peeling her body away from his, as much as she just wants to stay right where she is. Sitting up on the couch is like pulling away 2 magnets, with Harry’s hands pulling on her waist and the added warmth quickly leaving her body, it feels wrong pulling away. She taps her computer, as the screen has gone dark now, it’s much later than she thought. “Harry, I really gotta go get everyone's clothing ready.” Harry’s sitting up beside her now. He lets out a loud sigh, knowing Aurora is right. 

“Jeeze,” he agrees when he sees the time, “but just like 2 more minutes,” he says as he wraps his arms around her waist and wiggles his face into her neck, his breath hot on her collarbone. 

“Harry,” Aurora whines, trying to pull out of his grip. 

“Rory,” he whines back. 

“Seriously Harry, we both have jobs to do…” she reminds him.

“Ugg,” he groans, “why must you be such a hard worker? Never forgetting anything, always 10 steps ahead of everyone…” 

“Hired me for a reason, didn’t ya?” Harry raises his eyebrows up in agreement, loosening his grip around her waist. “Come on, you’ve got sound check.” Aurora offers her hand out to him, pulling him off the couch. 

Later on, after Harry has finished soundcheck and eaten, he finds Aurora back in his dressing room, but instead of being sprawled out on the couch like earlier, she was working on getting his suit ready for the show. Harry pauses in the doorway, not making a noise and simply just watching her, she’s bopping around a bit to the music she’s got playing on her computer. A smile erupts on his face when he really pays attention to the music that’s playing. Aurora whips her head around, after setting the steamer down of course. Harry didn’t realise he let out a loud chuckle, making his presence known. 

“Whatcha listening to there, love?” Aurora’s heart sinks for a moment then a nervous, embarrassed laugh come out of her mouth. She hadn’t noticed that an old One Direction song came on shuffle. 

“Wait,” she starts to defend herself, “I just had my music on shuffle! Didn’t even notice it was playing!” 

“Uh huh, whatever you say, Ror.” He shakes his head at her. “Your dancing proves otherwise.” 

“You’re an absolute menace, ya know that right?” She rolls her eyes and turns back to the suit to finish what she was doing before being interrupted. 

Harry smirks at her before sitting down on the couch. “Quite excited for this suit, if I’m honest,” Harry offers, changing the subject. 

“Me too,” she agrees, smiling to herself. She can recall the first fitting of this specific suit and remember loving it. Not just the style or design but the way it fit Harry perfectly. He’s done frills and glitter, the whole nine yards, but this look was different. High waisted trousers, cropped jacket and his TPWK tank. Aurora remembers it fitting so perfectly she was antsy to see him perform in it. 

Before she knows it, it’s time for him to slip in to the suit. Ayae leaves the room after Claire requested that she needed some help cause she messed up her hair since Ayae had done it earlier. Aurora’s grabbing his boots from the crate and when she turns around she freezes. 

“Uhm,” she stutters out, “Uh, uhm, here-here’s your boots.” 

“Everything alright, Ror?” Harry questions as he finished tucking in the white tank to his pants. 

Aurora shakes her head, “Uh, yeah,” she pauses, “guess I just forgot how good this suit looks.” Harry raises his eyebrows at her, surprised at her confession. 

“Oh,” is all he lets out. She swears she can see a blush colour the tops of his cheeks. 

“I mean, they all-they all look good,” Aurora tries to back track, she’s cursing in her head, but gives up. “But, like, this one…” she trails off. She likes the surprised look on Harry’s face from her confession. “This one is just so… I don’t know,” she trails off shaking her head. “Anyways… put your boots on.” 

Harry makes his way to the large bathroom to brush his teeth and Aurora follows along. She plops on the counter again, her new favourite place to observe him as he finishes getting ready. Aurora is admiring the way the high waisted trousers fit perfectly and then her eyes catch his arm full of tattoos that are still on full display. The black ink in contrast to his light skin is mesmerizing and she doesn’t think she’s really ever paid as much attention to them as she would like to. The ones that scatter his forearms and lower bicep are familiar but the ones at his shoulder and chest are almost brand new to Aurora. She lets herself study them in detail while Harry brushes his teeth. The A and G on either of his shoulders are delicate and she wants, in the worst way to trace over them, all of them, with the pads of her fingers. The swallows that peak out from the top of the white tank top he’s wearing are driving her insane, she thinks. The white tank not only displays his tattoos but also shows of the ridges of his muscles. Harry’s not absurdly muscular or buff, but the definition that is there is obvious. Aurora doesn’t get it, she’s never seen someone’s muscles look so hard and strong but soft at the same time. His bare skin draws her in more and all she can think about is how his bare skin would feel wrapped around her. 

You’re getting ahead of yourself, Aurora. Slow the fuck down. 

She’s starting to lose her mind a bit over the view in front of her. She doesn’t know what’s going on with her. Aurora forces herself to peel her eyes away from him and it’s harder than threading the smallest needle in the world. She takes the time to look down at her hands and reground herself. Her mind is running a mile a minute and if she were to voice anything going on in her head nobody would understand because it would come out as gibberish. Aurora is finally able to focus on something besides Harry standing barely a foot away from her. She notices her nails could really use a fresh manicure and she thinks she’ll have to get a fresh one in the next city she finds herself in. 

Harry’s hand squeezes at her knee and she looks up to him. 

“Y’alright?” he questions. When she meets his eyes she offers him a small smile and his eyes quirk up in a question. 

“Mhm,” she hums, “lost in thought, I guess,” she answers, surprising herself. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” 

“Nothing important enough to bother you with,” she lets out with a laugh. 

“Never a both to me, love.” The nickname rings in her ears and her brain is no longer consumed by anything else. She nods at him silently. 

He sprays his cologne, the last step of his routine. Aurora appreciates his consistency and thoughtfulness when he gets ready for a show. Everything he does is done just so. She shakes herself out of her thoughts and pushes herself off of the counter. Before she can even say her good lucks and make her way out of the door he’s got a strong grip on her hip. 

“Hey,’ he barely whispers. Aurora avoids making eye contact. “Saw ya wandering eyes this entire time,” he teases. His free hand comes in contact with Aurora’s chin and tilts it up so she has no choice but to look at him. Sometimes she hates how forward he is. She’s nothing like him. She shakes her head at him lightly once both hands are on her waist. She lets her hands fall on to his chest in fist and her head hangs low. She voices an apology, quietly, but speaks nonetheless. 

“Don’t be sorry, don’t mind it one bit.” Harry places a soft kiss on the top of her cheekbone. Aurora lets one of her hands reach for the ‘G’ inked on his shoulder and trace over it like she had wanted to minutes ago. 

“Was admiring your tattoos,” she whispers, her eyes trained on the ink. 

Harry doesn’t say anything, he just lets her delicate fingers graze his skin. Aurora can feel her heart beating and it sends electric like shocks through her entire body. Her hands feel like their on fire and she can’t figure out if it’s because of the nerves or the heat radiating from Harry’s skin. Aurora’s brain turns off she thinks because before she knows she’s reaching her neck up and kissing the edge of Harry’s jaw softly. When her lips leave his skin she can actually hear Harry swallow. 

“I know we agreed to take it slow, but I’m having a real hard time trying not to kiss you right now.” Harry’s voice is deep and Aurora can feel his hot breath fan out across her face. She sucks in a breath, her hands reaching to the waistband of Harry’s high waisted pants that she’s been fawning over silently since he put them on a half hour ago. She breathes out his name as she shakes her head. Harry presses her into the wall, his hips square on hers. Aurora busies her hands at the belt loops before she realises what she’s actually doing. Harry’s lips land on her cheek and then again at the soft spot behind her ear. 

“Harry,” she voices again, trying her hardest to stop his movements. It’s not that she doesn’t like it or anything like that. It’s that she likes it too much. That it feels so unbelievably good. That she doesn’t want him to stop. But she has to stop him, she’s still not ready to take whatever this is, further. “You’ve got a show to do,” she whispers. This is a can of worms she cannot tackle right now. 

“They can wait,” he whispers into her neck. 

“Harry, please,” she almost begs, but she doesn’t know what for, “please,” she’s trying her best here, but his hot breath and his soft lips grazing over her skin repeatedly makes it hard and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to say no to his pouty lips and puppy dog eyes when he brings his face into her line of sight. “Slow, we said slow,” she finally says, using her hands to push him away barely an inch. “And-and, and the way these trousers look on you right now are really not helping,” she says quickly. She shakes her head at herself when she realises what she had just said aloud. A half chuckle, half huff leaves his mouth and she can tell he’s fighting a smile without even looking at her. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, right,” he says the second he locks eyes with her. “Sorry, don’t know what it is about you,” he shakes his head, “driving me crazy.” He smiles softly at her. A slight feeling of relief washes over her now knowing that they’re on the same page with all of this. He sighs. “Got a show to do, I guess.” 

Aurora laughs at him and he thinks his heart swells to double its size, just as it does every time she laughs. He shakes his head again, trying to get her out of his mind for just a short moment so he can get himself stage ready. Aurora slides herself out of the way of the door to grab his jacket. She instantly feels like she’s missing something now that he’s not consuming all of her senses. When she turns around Harry’s already halfway out the door. 

“Babe,” she’s walking towards him, “need your jacket.” Harry nods and he’s in a trance when she helps him slide it onto his shoulders. “Good luck, even though you never really need it.” 

He thanks her and smiles at her. The entire walk from his dressing room to the last set of doors to the stage, all he can think about is Aurora calling him ‘babe’. Normally before a show he can focus and get his mind in check but his brain is full of Aurora right now and he’s doing nothing to stop it. Using her as a flame to ignite his energy and drive this show he’s about to put on. He’s in deep and he knows it right in this moment. He knows that he’ll do anything she says, anything to put a smile on her face, to hear her breathe his name against his neck just as she had a few minutes ago. Harry’s willing to go as slow as humanly possible if it means that tomorrow, or the next day or 3 months from now or whenever, that he gets to call her his.

| | | | |

The first glimpse Harry gets of Aurora while he’s on stage is only seconds into “Only Angel.” Aurora had taken a moment to collect herself before making her way into the audience to watch the show. Harry sees Aurora walking from the side of the stage into the audience and an instant smile grazes his face as he sways from side to side to his music. The lyrics that come out of his mouth, he thinks, are so perfect for this moment - “She’s an angel” - an angel is what she is to him. He shakes his head, hoping that he could shake Aurora out of his head. 

Everyone in the arena is feeding off the energy that Harry is exuding on stage, like a how a flame thrives on extra oxygen. Harry is nothing but smiles and cheeky smirks, dimples on full display the entire time. Aurora doesn’t stay in her normal spot, nor does she seek out Helene. She finds herself on the outskirts of the pit on stage left. Her mind drifts while Harry moves swiftly across the stage. From the angle she’s looking at the stage from, she’s got a perfect profile view of him. She curses to herself when she realises she’s fawning over how he looks in those high waisted pinstripe trousers. At first she thought she was gushing over the trousers themselves, the construction, the styling, the way the fabric drapes at the hem, but she catches her mind drifting towards how Harry looks in them. His legs look like they go on forever, the white trouser stripe accentuating the fit of the leg. Aurora’s eyes trail up to his torso and all she wants to do is wrap her arms around his waist. She wants to run her hands along the smooth, shiny fabric and the more she thinks about it, the more her mind wanders. Shit. Aurora is overwhelmed by the thoughts traveling through her brain. The thoughts of her hands roaming his torso, sliding lower when they reach his back. She shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts. He’s technically my boss. But he’s also, just Harry. This is a fight she has in her head about a million times a day now. 

Aurora is surprised when the intro to “The Chain” begins. She enjoyed the show, that’s for sure, but she feels like she blinked, daydreamed about those damn high waisted trousers, and then he was starting his encore. Aurora can’t help but gaze up to him on the stage, she’s in the midst of admiring his confidence and power in his voice as he rocks back onto his heels and his shoulders follow suit, only accenting the way the suit fits. 

Harry hoists his shoulders up to his ears, both hands on the mic as he belts out. He lets his head fall back, eyes closed, a look a pure bliss falls across his face. Aurora sighs to herself and basques in the idea of bliss falling across his face when he’s with her. She’s fucked at this point and she knows it. She’s in too deep to go back now. Curses fill her head as the song ends and “Kiwi” starts. Harry’s jacket is unbuttoned and he’s fiddling with the waistband of his pants on the side closest to where Aurora is standing. One sly look from Harry to Aurora tells it all. She’s in for it. 

Aurora is bewildered by the fact that Harry is able to communicate with her in the audience. It’s escalated as each show has gone on and every single time he’s on stage he can find her in the crowd at any given moment. 

Reckless is the best word to describe Harry performing ‘Kiwi’. He’s let just about all of his guards down, his hair is no longer in the perfect place that Ayae had done earlier, and there’s a light layer of sweat that covers his exposed skin. Harry’s stealing glances at Aurora no matter where he is on stage. When he makes his way closer to where she is standing he lets himself dance a bit in front of her before he regrets doing so. Harry is instantly reminded how tight his pants truly are and that he’s gotten himself in a tight spot now. Anyone paying attention to Harry can see him pull at the crotch of his pants quickly as he walks towards his mic stand. He laughs to himself as he clicks his mic back into its stand. He takes a glance down to his trousers again, reaching down he goes to pull at the fabric that is sitting much too tight against his bits. All while pulling at his trousers, he searches for Aurora quickly and gives her a look that he hopes relays everything that is going through his head. He hasn’t broken eye contact with her and she can feel the heat rise up to her cheeks. Aurora’s thankful that Harry can’t see the colour her face right now. Her jaw drops at his actions. She wasn’t prepared for him to be so bold and obvious up on stage. He seals the moment with a slow motion swipe of his tongue across his lips. Aurora is left dumbfounded. Before she thinks he’s through with the act he’s putting on for her, he runs a hand through his hair. Though he’s not looking at Aurora, she knows every single action he does in the next few minutes is for her and she can feel the tips of her ears heat up now. 

It’s New York baby always jacked up,

Holland tunnel for a nose, it’s always backed up,

When she’s alone she goes home to a cactus, 

In a black dress, she’s such an actress. 

Harry runs his hands from his hips down to his thighs and then brings his hands up to his head, bringing all his focus to his hips moving side to side. Aurora drops her head back on her shoulders with an eye roll. She doesn’t know what to do with herself right now. 

I’m gonna pay for this. 

He looks directly at her and the look on his face is best described as helpless. Aurora is frozen for a moment before she lets all of her guards down and loses herself in the music. 

| | | | |

Harry’s taking a sip from his new bottle of beer when he hears the light chime of the bar door. He thinks it might be his 3rd or 4th but hasn’t been keeping count. He’s out with the Adam and Mitch again and some crew members tagged along as well. Harry’s reaches for his phone for the millionth time in the past 30 minutes to see if Aurora’s texted him back. She hasn’t. He’s been pouting about it all night. After the show, Aurora was quiet, but much more hands on than normal. They both were pretty quiet in Harry’s dressing room. When Aurora hugged Harry once he got back to his dressing room she let her hands wander his torso like she thought about the entire show She also pressed a handful of kisses to the underside of his jaw before giggling and breaking away. She apologized, mumbling about not being sure why she was acting like this. Harry responded with a squeeze at her hip and then mirrored her mumbling and spoke about him hoping she would get like this. Aurora takes a step away whispering “slow” as a reminder but she doesn’t know if it’s just to remind herself what they agreed on or to remind Harry. Probably both. 

Harry’s too busy checking his phone to notice that the bell at the door was the result of Aurora walking into the bar. Harry wishes he could bring himself to enjoy the time with his friends but he can’t stop thinking about her. When he asked Aurora if she wanted to come out with them she kindly declined, again. He texted her once he got to the bar hoping to get her to change her mind or try to convince her to meet up with him later. 

Aurora and Helene walk into the bar, arms linked and smiles on their faces. Once Harry left the arena, Helene found Aurora and after a few glasses of wine, Helene convinced Aurora to go to the bar and surprise Harry.  

“What if he doesn’t care that I’m here?” Aurora whispers to Helene. 

“Doesn’t care?” Helene questions in disbelief. “Was I the only one who saw him on stage tonight or?” 

“Oh stop,” Aurora hushes. They’re both giggling again. They’ve giggled a lot tonight as a result of a bottle of wine shared between them.

Harry recognizes Aurora’s laugh and his head shoots up, hair falling in his face from the quick movement. He can’t help the smile that covers his entire face when he sees her leaning against the bar. Harry slides out of the booth nodding his head towards Aurora at the bar when Mitch questions where he’s going. 

“Add their drinks to my tab, Rob,” Harry tells the bartender. Helene lets out a laugh, shoots Aurora an all knowing look, and thanks Harry before walking away to find Adam and Mitch. “What changed your mind?” Harry asks as he takes a step closer to Aurora. She shrugs her shoulders, suddenly nervous, the confidence from the wine already gone. She reaches for her Whisky Soda the second Rob slides it to her. She takes a hearty sip before she shrugs her shoulders, avoiding meeting his eyes. “Well,” Harry continues, “thanks for coming,” he offers shyly. 

“Show was pretty great tonight, thought I should celebrate with you,” she finally answers. Harry quirks up an eyebrow. She can see the smirk that compliments his raised eyebrows from the corner of her eye. She focuses on the drink in front of her, watching a drop of condensation rolling down the side of the glass and hit the bar counter. Harry steps closer to her, not even close to touching her still but her hair stands on end across her arms and a shiver rolls down her spine. 

Harry dips his head into the crook of Aurora’s shoulder and he pauses before letting his lips fall to the sliver of bareskin between the trim of her tshirt and the base of her neck.  Another shiver runs down her spine and Harry lets a chuckle vibrate against her skin. 

“You know, we should probably take a look at some of my trousers, they seem to fit a bit tighter than before,” he says casually when he pulls away. He takes a swig from Aurora’s drink nonchalantly. His calm demeanor and confidence frustrates Aurora and she shakes her head lightly. “Why’re you shaking your head?” Harry asks through a light laugh, setting the glass back down, now substantially less full.

Aurora sighs and purses her lips in thought. She finishes off what’s left of her drink before speaking, needing all the courage she can get to say what she really wants to say out loud. “I could give you a list of reasons why your pants fit differently, babe.” Making eye contact with Rob she signals she needs another drink. Harry’s mind draws completely blank when Aurora reaches over and hooks her finger in one of his belt loops, her fingers grazing along the fabric and stitches. “But, it seemed like your dancing was the culprit tonight…” Aurora adds, continuing to mindlessly run her fingertips lightly of the stitches on the waistband of his trousers. Harry huffs at her, finally focusing on her face instead of her hands. 

“Think it was more than the dancing,” Aurora’s eyebrow raises at the sound of Harry’s voice. It was deeper than normal, it sunk to her bones and she’s now consumed by the mixture of his voice and the look in his eyes. His pupils have expanded and even in the dark light Aurora could tell that his bright green irises are only a small ring around his dark pupils. One of Harry’s hands lands on her thigh, “I think I have you to blame for tonight.” Aurora’s entire body stills, her hands loosely grip the belt loop and she lets out a shaky breath. She wasn’t expecting him to be so bold but then she remembers the events from earlier that night. Memories of Harry on stage flash across the inside of her eyelids as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She shakes her head before reaching both of her hands up to Harry’s neck. He complies with her movements and leans down closer to her. 

“Ror.” Harry’s breath fans across Aurora’s face. Aurora voice is stuck at the bottom of her throat and she hopes that she’s relaying what she’s feeling and thinking through her eyes. Before she can think any longer she lets her lips press against Harry’s. They’re both hesitant, relishing in the moment. Aurora grips at the shorter hair at the back of Harry’s neck when his lips press a little harder into hers. She can feel Harry’s shoulders relax as he continues to kiss her. His hands find grip at her waist as his hot breath fans over her face when they break apart for barely a second. Their noses bump slightly before Aurora connects their lips again. The various sounds of the bar are drowned out completely and they don’t know how long they stay kissing at the bar counter. 

Harry pulls away first and Aurora finds herself chasing his lips. Harry chuckles at her actions, endeared by her confidence in the moment. “Hey,” he whispers when she opens her eyes. 

“Hey,” she whispers back, her lips almost close enough to brush against his again. Harry grabs their drinks from the counter after taking a moment between them. 

“Come on,” he says motioning his head towards their group sitting at a large corner booth. Aurora is taken off guard by Harry’s casual transition. When Aurora doesn’t move Harry reaches down and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “Come on, love.” Aurora huffs and jumps off of the stool she was sitting on and reaches for the crook of his elbow. Harry smiles down at her as they walk towards their friends. 

It’s as if nothing had changed. They slide into the booth and fit into the conversations that were already happening. Harry’s complementing a story Adam is telling with a quick witty joke when he moves his beer bottle to his other hand and places his now free arm around Aurora’s shoulder. Harry can feel Aurora’s chest rattle when she gives a good laugh at his jokes. He smiles as he watches her join into the conversation. She even lets a hand rest on Harry’s thigh, squeezing it every so often. Harry presses constant kisses to her hair or behind her ear.

Aurora’s got her 3rd Whiskey Soda in front of her and she turns to look at Harry as he finishes a story. Mitch takes over the story for Harry, going on about one of their crazy times in Jamaica and Harry takes the opportunity that is presented in front of him. With all the attention on Mitch and Aurora still gazing up at him, he connects their lips. They’re both smiling into the kiss. It doesn’t last long, a quick peck, before they’re both engrossed in the story being told. 

The night escalates and somehow Harry gets everyone to stand up and dance around the bar. They’re the only group left and they’ve taken control over the sound system. As “Girls on Film” by Duran Duran blast through the speakers, Harry grabs for Aurora’s hands and is dancing her around, twisting her this way and that, throwing in a few spins, and pressing their lips together whenever he can. Aurora’s cheeks hurt from the wide grin that’s been on show majority of the night. She throws her head back while singing along to the song and Harry can’t think he’s been much happier than he is right now. He thanks the alcohol that’s running through both of their systems but also acknowledges that it’s pushed both of their guards down. 

Harry asks Aurora to come back to his hotel room when they leave the bar. She kindly declines, even after Harry drunkenly clarifies that he just wants to sleep but doesn’t want to say goodnight. He never wants to say goodnight. Harry walks Aurora to her own hotel room instead. He’s said something that neither of them can remember but has put both of them into an absolute laughing mess outside Aurora’s door. 

Harry takes Aurora’s face in his hands, gently once they’ve both taken a breath and stopped laughing. Looking at her eyes then her mouth, then her eyes again, he finally closes the small gap between them. The kiss is kind of messy, but neither mind in that moment. Harry furthers the kiss taking Aurora’s bottom lip in between his and sucks lightly, a small whine coming from Aurora. He likes her reaction and does the same action with her top lip. Another whine. Aurora’s hands roam Harry’s broad shoulders and Harry’s hands move down to her waist, leaning her against the hotel room door. When the door rattles slightly their both reminded that they are standing in the hallway of the hotel. Harry pulls away with regret. 

“I’ve got an early flight to Italy,” he says because he actually cannot think of anything good to say that will compare to this moment. He shakes his head in an apology knowing he broke the moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening, okay?” 

Aurora nods, dizzy from the whiskey and Harry’s lips. Before she closes her hotel room door behind her Harry kisses her cheek and gives her an eye wrinkling smile. It’s safe to say that Harry and Aurora both fall asleep with grins etched into their faces. There are no traces of regret or worry in Aurora’s thoughts from the events that happened tonight and she finally feels at ease. 

I hope you enjoyed !!!! Comments & feedback ALWAYS extremely welcome !!!! Share it with your friendsssssss :)))) love you mean it. 

[thelastchair]

Powder Magazine

(Written by Sam Cox - December 28, 2020)

Growing up in Montana, my winter free time was consumed by skiing. Big Sky was the destination when I was barely old enough to walk. Eventually we made the move to Bozeman and Bridger Bowl became my second home. During the early years, my family made the trek to a handful of Warren Miller movies when they were on tour in the fall and Snow Country was the magazine subscription that landed on the coffee table. I was vaguely aware of Jackson Hole, Snowbird and Squaw Valley and my father would occasionally regale me with tales of skiing (read Après) in Germany when he was in the Army. At some level, I already understood that there was something special about Bridger, but realistically, my sphere of outside influence was quite small. Christmas of 1989 turned my entire world upside down. My aunt and uncle are longtime Salt Lake City residents and Brighton skiers. Typically they would send a package each year with the customary cookies, toffee and a card. However, this year they sent two VHS tapes and a magazine - Ski Time, Blizzard of Aahhh’s and a copy of Powder. Things would never be the same for me. Scot Schmidt became my hero, Greg Stump was taking skiing into uncharted territory and above it all, Powder created an eloquent voice for our sport and was the fabric that held things together. Even at my young age, everything that I’d intuitively sensed before was distilled into a potent desire to devote myself to the simple pursuit of being a skier.

Johan Jonsson, Engelberg, Switzerland - Photo: Mattias Fredriksson/POWDER

Powder was founded in Sun Valley by the Moe brothers in 1972 as an annual portfolio of The Other Ski Experience. After several years of running the magazine, Jake and David Moe sold Powder to the owner of Surfer Magazine. A repurposed aircraft hangar in San Juan Capistrano became the new home of skiing’s most prestigious publication. Over time, there was an ebb and flow to the size of staff and cast of characters, each person leaving their unique mark. For decades Powder weathered corporate acquisitions, office relocations and the constant metamorphosis of the ski industry - never losing its voice, Powder remained the benchmark. It was a source of creativity, inspiration and a defacto annal of history. For many it was also a shining beacon, a glimpse into a world filled with deep turns and iconic destinations - even if this world could only be inhabited inside the constructs of your imagination.

My story and the impact Powder had on the direction I would take is hardly unique. The magazine left an indelible impression on countless skiers. When the news broke this fall that operations were being suspended indefinitely, a heartbroken community took to social media to pay homage to the magazine and how it changed their lives and in some cases, careers. This is my version of a tribute and it’s definitely not perfect. In order to gain some perspective, I reached out to former staff members - a collective I admire and respect. It’s an attempt to articulate the essence of Powder, capture its influence on the skiing landscape and give credit to the people who made it come to life. 

Bernie Rosow, Mammoth Mountain, CA - Photo: Christian Pondella/POWDER

HANS LUDWIG - The Jaded Local

“Skiing has always been really tribal and one of the last vestiges of having an oral history. Powder was a unique concept, because they weren’t really concerned with the family market. They were just concerned about being really into skiing. Growing up in Colorado and skiing moguls, my coaches Robert and Roger were featured in the early Greg Stump films. Being in their orbit, I knew a little bit about skiing culture and what was going on out there, but didn’t have the whole picture. The Stump films resonated with me, but Ski/Skiing Magazines didn’t really do it for me. Powder was the door that opened things culturally, it was the only entry point before Blizzard of Aahhh’s.”

“Something that nobody gives Powder credit for, is sponsoring the Greg Stump, TGR and MSP movies and giving them full support right from their inception. It legitimized those companies and helped them become one of the catalysts for change and evolution in skiing. Ultimately this change would have happened, but at a much slower pace without the support of Powder. Getting support from Powder meant they’d weeded out the posers and kooks and what they were backing wasn’t something or someone that was “aspiring” they were a cut above.”

“Powder brought a lot of things into the mainstream, raised awareness and helped to legitimize them: Jean-Marc Boivin, Patrick Vallencant, Pierre Tardivel, telemarking, monoskiing, snowboarding, the JHAF, Chamonix, La Grave, Mikaela Shiffrin, fat skis pre McConkey, skiing in South America….the list goes on.”

“I had some rowdy trips with Powder. Writing “Lost In America,” I went Utah-Montana-Fernie-Banff-Revelstoke via pickup truck, only backcountry skiing and camping in the mud. It was a month plus. I did another month plus in Nevada, which was after back to back Jackson and Silverton. Total time was two plus months. That was fucked up, I was super loose after that whole thing. So many sketchy days with total strangers”

“People forget that Powder was around long before the advent of the fucking pro skier. Starting in 1996, the magazine was in the impact zone of the ski industrial complex. There is limited space for content each season. It was a challenge to balance the pressure coming from the athletes and brands to cover something that was going to make them money vs. staying true to the Moe brothers original intent and profiling an eccentric skier, a unique location or even fucking ski racing.”

Full Circle - Photo: MJ Carroll

KEITH CARLSEN - Editor

“When I was young, Ski/Skiing didn’t do anything for my spirit, but Powder lit me up. It ignited a passion in diehard skiers and gave them a voice and community. It was focused on the counter culture - the type of people who rearrange their lives to ski. This was in direct opposition to other magazines that were targeting rich people, trying to explain technique, sell condos or highlight the amenities at a ski area.”

“Skiing has always been my outlet and mechanism to get away from things in life. My two talents are writing and photography, so I enrolled at Western State with the direct goal of landing an internship at Powder. Even at 19, I had complete focus on the direction I wanted to take. If it didn’t work out, my backup plan was to be a ski bum. 48 hours after graduating, I was headed to southern California to live in my van and start my position at Powder. When the decision was made to close the magazine, it was really personal for me. Powder had provided me direction in life for the last 30 years and I needed some time to process it. In a way, it was almost like going to a funeral for a good friend - even though it’s gone, the magazine lives on in all of us and can never be taken away.”

“It was, and will always remain, one of my life’s greatest honors to serve as the editor-in-chief for Powder Magazine. It was literally a dream that came true. I’m so grateful for everyone who came before me and everyone who served after me. That opportunity opened literally hundreds of doors for me and continues to do so today. I owe the magazine a massive debt of gratitude. Every single editor was a warrior and fought for the title with their lives. They were doing double duty - not only from competition with other publications, but the internal struggle of budget cuts, staff reductions and trying to do more with less. Powder never belonged in the hands of a corporation. The magazine spoke to an impassioned community and never made sense to an accountant or on a ledger.”

Trevor Petersen, Mt. Serratus, BC - Photo: Scott Markewitz/POWDER

SIERRA SHAFER - Editor In Chief

“Powder celebrated everything that is good and pure in skiing. It highlighted the old school, the new and the irreverent. The magazine also called bullshit when they saw it. It was a checkpoint, a cultural barometer and an honest reflection on where skiing has been and where it’s going.”

“My involvement with Powder came completely out of left field. I was never an intern or established in the ski industry. My background was strictly in journalism, I was a skier living in Southern California and editing a newspaper. I knew that I wanted to get the fuck out of LA and Powder was that opportunity. It was a huge shift going from my job and life being completely separate to work becoming my life. Literally overnight, Powder became everything - friends, connections and part of my identity. It derailed my trajectory in the best possible way.”

Brad Holmes, Donner Pass, CA - Photo: Dave Norehad/POWDER

MATT HANSEN - Executive Editor

“Keith Carlsen was a man of ideas, he had tremendous vision and influence. He came up with the ideas for Powder Week and the Powder Awards in 2001. In some respects those two events saved the magazine.”

“Powder was the soul of skiing and kept the vibe, it changed people’s lives and inspired them to move to a ski town. As a writer I always wanted to think it was the stories that did that, but in truth it was the photography. Images of skiing truly became an art form, 100% thanks to Powder Magazine and Dave Reddick. Dave cultivated and mentored photographers, he was always searching for the unpredictable image from around the world and pressed the photographers to look at things from a different angle.”

“It sounds cliche, but writing a feature about Chamonix was the highlight for me. Sitting on the plane, things were absolutely unreal. I linked up with Nate Wallace and the whole experience from start to finish was out of my comfort zone. Ducking ropes to ski overhead pow on the Pas De Chèvre, walking out of the ice tunnel on a deserted Aiguille du Midi right as the clouds parted, late nights in town that were too fuzzy to recall. The energy of the place taught me a lot. I didn’t have a smartphone and there was no Instagram - I had time to write, observe, take notes and be present with who I was and with the experience. As a writer it didn’t get any better.”

“The true gift of working for Powder, was the once in a lifetime adventures that I wish I could have shared with my family, I was so lucky to have had those opportunities. It almost brought tears to me eyes.”

Peter Romaine, Jackson Hole, WY - Photo: Wade McKoy/POWDER

DAVE REDDICK - Director of Photography

“Just ski down there and take a photo of something, for cryin’ out loud!”  “I’ve found that channeling McConkey has been keeping it in perspective. Powder’s been shuttered. That sucks. What doesn’t suck is the good times and the people that have shared the ride thus far and I’m just thankful to be one of them. There’s been some really kind sentiments from friends and colleagues, but this must be said - Every editor (especially the editors), every art director (I’ve driven them nuts), every publisher and sales associate, every photographer, writer, and intern, and all the others behind the scenes who’ve ever contributed their talents get equal share of acknowledgment for carrying the torch that is Powder Mag. There’s hundreds of us! No decision has ever been made in a vacuum. Always a collective. At our best, we’ve been a reflection of skiers everywhere and of one of the greatest experiences in the world. It’s that community, and that feeling, that is Powder. I’m not sure what’s next and I’m not afraid of change but”  “There’s something really cool about being scared. I don’t know what!”

Scot Schmidt, Alaska - Photo: Chris Noble/POWDER

DEREK TAYLOR - Editor 

“Powder was the first magazine dedicated to the experience and not trying to teach people how to ski. It was enthusiast media focused on the soul and culture. It’s also important to highlight the impact Powder had outside of skiing - today you have the Surfer’s Journal effect where every sport wants that type of publication. However, prior to their inception, everybody wanted a version of Powder.”

“Neil Stebbins and Steve Casimiro deserve a lot of credit for the magazine retaining its voice and staying true to the core group of skiers it represented.”

“Keith Carlsen is responsible for the idea behind Super Park. This was a time when skiing had just gone through a stale phase. There was a newfound energy in park skiing and younger generations, this event helped to rebrand Powder and solidify its goal of being all inclusive. Racing, powder, park, touring - it’s all just skiing.”

Joe Sagona, Mt. Baldy, CA - Photo: Dave Reddick/POWDER

JOHNNY STIFTER - Editor In Chief

“What did Powder mean to me... Well, everything. As a reader and staffer, it inspired me and made me laugh. I learned about local cultures that felt far away and learned about far away cultures that didn’t feel foreign, if that makes sense.”

“But I cherished those late nights the most, making magazines with the small staff. Despite the deadline stress, I always felt so grateful to be working for this sacred institution and writing and editing for true skiers. We all just had so much damn fun. And it didn’t hurt meeting such passionate locals at hallowed places, like Aspen and Austria, that I once dreamed of visiting and skiing. The Powder culture is so inclusive and so fun, I never felt more alive.”

Doug Coombs, All Hail The King - Photo: Ace Kvale/POWDER

HEATHER HANSMAN - Online Editor

“Powder is a lifestyle and an interconnected circle of people. It’s about getting a job offer at Alta, opening your home to random strangers, locking your keys in your car and getting rescued by a friend you made on a trip years ago. Through the selfish activity of skiing, you can create a community of people you cherish and can depend on through highs and lows.”

Ashley Otte, Mike Wiegele Heli, BC - Photo: Dave Reddick/POWDER

The contributions of so many talented individuals made the magazine possible. I would like to express my sincere gratitude to everyone who shared their experience at Powder with me. Also, I want to thank Porter Fox and David Page for crafting inspiring feature stories that I enjoyed immensely over the years.

After the reality set in that the final issue had arrived, a void was created for generations of skiers. I’ve been focused on being thankful for what we had, rather than sad it’s gone. It’s a challenging time for print media and I wholeheartedly advocate supporting the remaining titles in anyway you can. In a culture driven by a voracious appetite for mass media consumption and instant gratification - I cherish the ritual of waiting for a magazine to arrive, appreciating the effort that went into creating the content and being able to have that physical substance in my hand. Thanks for everything Powder, you are missed, but your spirit lives on.  

Captain Powder - Photo: Gary Bigham/POWDER