#he got *fired* from being a gym teacher 'cause he beat someone up and he's shit talking a bunch of kids online

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

It was gamer talk the whole time?! Piss off help-

[ava-achlys]

The Boyz NSFW Scenarios

Kim Sunwoo - Reflection [Requested]

Request: Strangers to friends (dom! Sunwoo), new kid Sunwoo meets the school troublemaker in detention. Tensions rise and antics ensue.

new kid! Sunwoo x bad girl! reader

Warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it up kiddos), underage sex, semi-public sex, slight praise kink, slight angst, mentions of bullying/misconduct/mischief

Sorry for the wait @l0v3bugch4nh33 but I hope you enjoy it! Thanks again for requesting 💖

What do you do when your position as the baddest person in school is threatened by some obnoxious newbie with equally obnoxious pink hair?

Mr Lee sighs for the umpteenth time as you tap your foot incessantly. He glares at you, knowing full well he has no effect on you. Every teacher that's tried to talk some sense into you or punish you has given up and resigned to waiting for the day you graduate, which proves to be difficult since your grades were trash and your conduct was just as terrible. You had to repeat your senior year and it just meant you had more time to mess with the teachers and staff. Why hadn't they just expelled you? Well, you doubt it had anything to do with the fact that you'd been expelled from two other high schools already, and your parents had offered a large sum of money to the principal to keep you in this school until you graduate.

You hated studying, period. You hated how rigid the academic systems were, and you had little to no interest in anything. Not science, not languages, not arts. You just felt stuffy and controlled all the time. That was why you ended up terrorizing the other kids and even staff, just to feel alive and free. Smoking in the school bathrooms, skipping class, vandalism; just to name a few. You revelled in the way your juniors would scurry away if you so much as looked in their direction, and even some teachers would avoid you. You ran the school, and you were untouchable. Until about a week ago.

Some new kid transferred into your class with obnoxiously pink hair and a slight accent from the countryside. Who even transfers into a new school in their senior year? Anyway, some of the girls were immediately taken by his looks, whispering to each other about how cute he was, and your classmates began spreading mindless gossip about him.

I heard he was expelled for beating up some teachers

I heard it was because he set the school on fire!

I bet it's cause he slept with a teacher

You roll your eyes at their stupid words, effectively shutting them up with a glare. As your luck would have it, the new guy (Sunoo, was it?) was assigned to be your seating partner, something your teacher belatedly realized was a very bad idea. In horror, she reminded the class that it was a temporary arrangement and that she was revise the seating plan, internally vowing to keep you two as far away from each other as possible. It wasn't something for her to worry about, you thought. You had absolutely no plans to get close to the pink-haired fool who was not-so-subtly checking you out.

Days passed and you tried to assert your dominance by acting out even more than usual. You swapped all the locks to the gym equipment storage and started a food fight at lunch, earning you a week's worth of detention. However it didn't seem to faze him at all, and he went about his business, staying out of your hair, despite appreciating the view every time you walked past in your short skirt. So what if you weren't abiding by the school dress code? He himself had flaming pink hair, which apparently landed him in detention too, since he wasn't willing to dye it back to black or shave it all off within the stipulated time. That, and he was caught smoking in the boys bathroom. Detention within the first week of school? You had to applaud him, even if you decided you hated his guts for being indifferent and callous. Only you were allowed to be like that.

A knock on the door brings you back to the present, and Mr Lee huffs when he sees the fuchsia mop poke through the door. "So nice of you to finally join us, Sunwoo. Your seat is there. And I'm sure you're familiar with the rules of detention by now, most schools are the same," your teacher smiles, a fake saccharine tinge to his voice.

"Afraid not, sir, would you be so kind to inform me again?" Sunwoo drawls, his big round eyes blinking with faux innocence. You resist the urge to laugh at the way Mr Lee is fuming, sinewy arms ready to burst through his tight button-up and you swear you could see steam pouring out of his ears. "I do not want to hear a single word from either of you. Stay put, and maybe do some reflection on why you decided to be such menaces," he spits through gritted teeth, storming off through the door and slamming it shut, locking it from the outside. You groan, slouching into your seat as you fiddle with your phone, already bored out of your mind. Your eyes are on your phone but you can sense Sunwoo's gaze lingering on you again. It's not unpleasant, but it leaves you feeling hot, and you refuse to believe he's got that effect on you.

"You're an idiot," you mutter under your breath, your eyes still trained on your phone.

"Pardon?" his artificially sweet voice is back, taunting you with that drawl of his.

"Smoking on school grounds, getting detention in your first week? Rookie mistake."

"What if I did it on purpose? To spend some quality time with the mysterious bad girl everyone's been talking about?"

You scoff loudly and Sunwoo is still grinning annoyingly at you. He stands up and walks over to the teacher's table, plopping into Mr Lee's seat. "You're interesting." He stretches his long legs out, resting them on the table, putting his hands behind his head, sending a cocky smirk your way; and you can’t decide if you want to punch or kiss it right off his face. You roll your eyes, uncrossing your legs and you suppress a laugh when you notice Sunwoo’s line of vision goes straight to the spot between your legs. He licks his plush lips subconsciously, and oh, what you would give to feel those lips on your body. You spread your legs just a tad further, and the smirk on his face slowly drains away, eyes transfixed on the wet spot on your panties. “Fuck you, Sunwoo.”

“Yes, please,” he murmurs absentmindedly, his mind racing thinking about all the dirty things he wants to do to you. You scoff, crossing your legs again, about to curse at him. You’re no easy girl. Especially for someone like Sunwoo, with his stupid puppy eyes, fluffy pink hair, pouty pink lips, thick thighs straining through his tapered uniform trousers and- your thoughts were disrupted by his figure looming over you. He had crossed the room while you were busy listing off everything you found attractive hated in the boy. He stands before you, round eyes darkened with want, and his hand comes up to tilt your chin upwards, his thumb carelessly rubbing against your bottom lip.

"Are you really as bad as they say you are?"

"Don't try me Kim Sunwoo."

"No… I don't think you are. I think you're actually a good girl, hmm?" Sunwoo whispers, deftly unzipping his trousers and pulling his erect cock out, perfectly level with your glossy lips. He tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ear, and gently coaxes your head closer to his twitching length. Your mouth falls open unwittingly, and you can't help but lick your lips at the sight before you.

"Such a good girl only for me."

A shiver rolls down your spine at his deep voice, and you find your lips around his tip, lapping up his oozing precum, your hand grasping the base of his cock. Sunwoo lets out a shaky moan, his fingers twisting into your hair. “Fuck, just like that,” he gasps. You bob your head up and down, swallowing around his shaft, and Sunwoo’s pretty moans fill the classroom. He guides your head up and down his length, admiring the way your luscious lips are wrapped around his veiny member. Soon, he tugs you off by your hair, making a 'pop' sound as your mouth releases his dick. You look up at him questioningly, and his cock twitches at the sight of your spit-slicked swollen lips. "Don't wanna cum yet, cutie," he grins, dragging you by the shoulders to push you against the teacher's table.

You hop up the table and lean back, parting your legs wide to accommodate him. You pull your skirt up, and he pulls your drenched panties aside to dive in, licking ravenously at your slick folds, causing you to mewl and throw your head back, nearly hitting your head on the table. He slides your panties off and his free hand sneaks up your body to cup your breast, massaging it through your shirt and bra as he makes out with your pussy. You clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle your moans, feeling those plump lips close around your sensitive clit, and you can't help but writhe in pleasure. Sunwoo smirks up at you from between your thighs, balling up your panties and holding them in front of your face. "Open up~ can't be too noisy can we, or else the teachers will find out we don't hate each other as much as they think we do," he mocks you in a singsong voice. You open your mouth to rebuke, but he takes this opportunity to shove your panties into your mouth, prompting a disgruntled moan from you.

Your annoyance at being forcibly shushed fades quickly when he sticks two thick fingers into your pussy, clenching tight around the intrusion. He laps at your clit as he pumps his fingers, scissoring them to stretch you out, his other hand back to groping your other breast. Your mind is turning hazy from all the stimulation, and you can only grip onto the edges of the table as you drown in the feeling of Sunwoo's touches all over your body. He pulls away once he thinks you're ready, making you whine at the loss of contact. He straightens up and you wordlessly stare at each other with lust-filled eyes as he languidly lubes up his erect cock with your juices. You position yourself right at the edge of the table, holding your legs up and apart with your hands, presenting yourself to him.

Your pussy throbs as he approaches, lining up his cock with your entrance and he pushes in slowly. The stretch burns deliciously, and Sunwoo hurriedly pulls your panties from your lips, muffling your moans with his lips instead. The kiss is messy, spit and precum and teeth, as your pussy adjusts to having him fully sheathed inside you. You break apart, gasping for air, and Sunwoo is shaking from resisting the urge to pummel into you immediately. "M-move, Sunwoo, hurry," you whisper, and he nods, pulling out and slamming back in instantly, shushing you softly when you unwittingly moan out loud. He continues to fuck you at a brutal pace, balls slapping against your ass, and slowly you feel your arms start to give way. He notices this, and takes over, holding your thighs apart with a bruising grip as he drills into you. He buries his face in your neck, his hot breath and warm lips on your skin bringing you close to climax.

"You think you're so big and bad huh? The students fear you and the teachers hate you, but look how good you're being for me," he pants into your skin, groaning when you clench around him, clearly affected by his words. "S-shut it Sunwoo just- ahhh!" your words are cut off by a hard thrust into your g-spot. You hate him, for being a tease, for taunting you, for threatening to take your spot as the top dog in school, but most of all, for edging you. He chuckles darkly, pulling your hair so you look up at him with desperate, wild eyes. "Come on now, ask nicely and I'll let you cum, babe," he teases, hips still pistoning relentlessly into yours. You let out a frustrated groan, and you grab him by his collar, pressing your lips against his. "Let me cum, Sunwoo, wanna cum all over your pretty cock," you mumble against his lips, and it seems to do the trick.

His thrusts begin to stutter, and you smirk into the kiss, realizing that big bad Sunwoo likes being praised too. "Your lips were made to eat pussy, and you just love the taste of mine, don't you?" you continue, getting bolder, revelling in the way a shiver rolls down his spine at your words. He thrusts erratically, groaning lowly as you cling to his frame, burying your face in his shoulder to muffle your moans as you cum hard, clenching tightly around his cock. Sunwoo hurriedly pulls out before he cums inside you, jerking himself harshly to completion, growling and cursing as he paints the side of the teacher's table white with his cum. He falls forward, clutching the table as both of you gulp lungfuls of air as you come down from your highs.

"Fuck, that was-"

"Insane. We're insane for doing this, really." you finish his sentence. He snorts loudly, shaking his head at the sticky situation you had gotten yourselves into. Suddenly you hear footsteps and voices coming down the hallway, and you look at each other in horror. You quickly straighten your clothes, hurrying to put your panties on and wipe off Sunwoo's cum from the teacher's table with a gym towel you had in your school bag. Mr Lee opens the door to find the two of you sitting very peacefully apart, and with any luck, doesn't notice the messy hair, wrinkled clothes, flushed cheeks or the stench of sex and sweat in the classroom.

He chalks it up to you two delinquents being perpetually unkempt, and dismisses the two of you, as it was well past the time your detention should have ended. You and Sunwoo duck around him, uncharacteristically quiet and meek as you exit the school together. Once you make it past the school gates, you both break out into raucous laughter, still not believing how you went from hating each other to swallowing each other's faces in the span of one meeting. The smile on Sunwoo's face suddenly disappears as a thought crosses his mind. "Wait… was there a CCTV camera in that classroom?" he asks worriedly. "Yeah. There is." you reply casually, and a look of alarm crosses his face.

"Don't worry, it's broken though." you quickly assure him.

"What? Who broke it?"

A devious smile graces your lips and Sunwoo immediately understands, barking out another incredulous laugh. You two share stories about the trouble you've gotten into at your previous schools all the way home. Before you part ways, Sunwoo smirks cheekily at you. "So… Same time next week?"

You gnaw on your lip as you consider. Maybe there was space at the top of the food chain for two, and that you both aren't so different after all. You mirror his impish grin as you walk away.

"See you in detention, Kim Sunwoo."

[hey-there-love]

Foolish

Summary: Being the new kid is tough right? Try moving across the world to attend the elite hero course at U.A. Unfortunately, following the path of the straight and narrow is difficult when you have a first ball of death throwing twists in it. Nobody said it was going to be easy. New experiences, new interests, new friends...what could go wrong...right? (It’s all cute at first until the smut shatters it...not right now though ;) )

Chapter 1: Welcome, Y/N

Content warning: adult language, cringy situations

Word Count: 1.6K

You let out a sigh as you stood infront of your new dorm, Heights Alliance. U.A high school was Japan’s best school for up and coming pro hero’s and you were chosen to attend. You never thought you’d see the day where you’d finally walk the halls of the prestigious school.

Being a native from the United States, it had always been your dream to attend U.A ever since you watched a sports festival two years ago, unfortunately you never peaked the interest of anyone with your admissions. That was until an earthquake caused by a villains powerful quirk had changed your life.

Long story short it was a normal day at your respective internship with America’s number 3 pro hero, Hopewing, on patrol. A devastating earthquake began and you single handly rescued civilians from a restaurant that caught on fire with no casualties. The villain was apprehended quickly, but an extensive search and rescue mission was done to recover victims of the earthquake. You didn’t think it was a big deal, you were just doing your job, but news outlets picked up on your heroic act and it spread like wild fire.

Countless offers began to stream in for different agencies and schools all across the country. With multiple letters of recommendation, a distinct offer from your dream school rolled in with a promise to be taught in the central . Even if you hadn’t fantasized about attending U.A, you would have been insane to not take the offer.

So, after finishing out your first year at Elite High School you uprooted, packed up your life, and traveled across the world . Classes started next week and nervous was an understatement. You had anxiety as soon as you touched down in Japan. Things here were different. On top of you being a new student in a foreign country you were living in dorms with your classmates.

You always lived at home with your mother and father , never sharing a space with someone else let alone 20 new people who all shared different quirks and attributes. It was nerve wracking, some were going better than you, who knows what level everyone is on. Your anxiety was making it hard for you to breathe. What if-

“Y/N. Did you hear me?” Mr. Aizawa interjected.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir, I kinda zoned out.” You squeaked. Never in a million years you would have thought that when you were told that your home room teacher was picking you up from the airport and taking you to your dorms that it would be the pro hero Eraser Head. You jaw had hit the floor.

“You know Y/N,” he began, “It’s okay to have anxiety about your situation, but I assure you this is the group of kids to share classes with. They are the best this school has to offer. They can teach you a lot.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded.

“Come on, let’s go. Iida and Yaoyorozu are waiting to help you settle in.” He said grasping, one of your suitcases. You took a deep breath and followed your home room teacher up the front stairs. As you walked into the doors, you were greeted by two people. One was a tall man with black hair, glasses, and crazy huge calves and the other was lean woman with a luscious black ponytail and the sweetest smile.

“Ah! There you two are! Welcome to U.A! My name is Tenya Iida, Class 2-A representative and this is Vice President Momo Yaoyorozu.” The man in the glasses announced, smiling widely. He spoke rigidly and bowed.

He threw you off at tad bit with the formality. He talked like he was a politician running for office. “Hey, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you both.” You extended your hand awkwardly since you were holding your carry on and a box. He gave you a firm handshake.

Yaoyorozu smiled and shook her head, “Iida, our classmate looks like her hands are full. Take her box big guy.”

“Oh, right! Sorry about that!” Iida took the box and your suitcase from Mr. Aizawa. You were grateful because it was getting a little heavy in your arms.

“Well Y/N, you’re in capable hands with these two. I’ll leave you to it.” Mr. Aizawa turned on his heel to leave. “Come to my office 30 minutes before class on Monday and we’ll go through your schedule and get you a map of campus.” He called over his shoulder.

Just like that Aizawa the security blanket was gone and you were left alone with the two. They seemed nice, so hopefully the rest were the same. “Alrighty let’s head on up.” Yaoyorozu suggested. Your trio approached the elevator. “So, this is Class 2-A’s dormitory. There are 5 floors in total. The first floor are where the common rooms are located. Including the kitchen, study area, and the gym. Floors 2, 3, 4, and 5 are dorms. Our bathrooms are communal pertaining to who lives on each floor.” She explained.

Holy crap, this place was huge to say the least. You were excited to explore everything, especially the gym but that would have to wait until the jet lag wore off.

“I’ll tell you ahead of time Y/N, everyone is excited to meet our new classmate. If you ever get overwhelmed then instruct them to give you some space. They all can be quite a lot sometimes.” Iida warned, pushing his glasses up on his face.

“I’m sure I will be okay! I’m just happy to finally be here.”

Yaoyorozu gave you an award winning grin. “I’m happy for you too. Someone as talented as you belongs at U.A.” You felt a blush creeping on to your neck.

“Please stop, you’re being too kind. I’ve actually researched the both of you. You guys are so amazing and your quirks are insane!” You replied.

“Well, we appreciate it. So, we’ll bring your things up to your room, give you some time to freshen up, and then head down stairs to meet the others in an hour?” Iida said as the elevator reached the 4th floor.

You agreed as you stepped out and had a look around. The floor was in the U shaped. Next to the elevators was the bathrooms and the entrance branched out into two hallways.

“For obvious reasons the boys are on the right hall and the girls are on the left hall. Your neighbors on this side are Uraraka and Ashido, while the boys are Shouji, Kirishima, and Bakugo.” Yaoyorozu said and lead you to the third door down. She unlocked your door and handed you the gold key.

Iida opened the door and allowed you two to walk in before him. You were sure the big grin on your face was visible miles away.

“Now, I know it’s not much right now, but I wouldn’t stress about unpacking just yet. I’m sure you’ll recruit some help after dinner.” Iida said and sat down your things.

“Thanks guys, I’m going to go wash off this traveling and I’ll see you then.” You smiled. Iida bowed and Yaoyorzo waved before exiting. You quickly made your way to the bed and plopped down, absolutely beat. You began to take in your new home. The white bed frame was against the right wall, matching colored desk was placed against the left wall. There was a giant window on the back wall facing your door and in the corner was a small closet with low dresser inside

You looked around at all the boxes wondering if all your things would fit in this room. Maybe a little unpacking wouldn’t hurt. You opened your two suit cases and began hanging up clothes, organizing sleep clothes, undergarments, and socks in the drawers. Once that was done you began to search for your travel sizes hygiene products, making a mental note to go out for the essentials tomorrow.

Once that was located, you decided to pick out an outfit to wear. Since you arrived in sweat pants and an old t-shirt of your moms; you wanted to look semi decent when you met the others. You went for a simple pair of black jeans and your previous alma mater’s sweat shirt.

You grabbed your phone planning to text your parents that you’ve settled in and made your way to the bathroom. You began to type out a message as you neared the threshold.

Not paying attention as you rounded the corner you crashed into something hard...someone hard.

“Oi, pay attention!” He yelled as everything you were carrying flew onto the floor around you.

“Oh shoot, I am so sorry!”

You both simultaneously began to reach down to pick up your things and bumped heads.

“Fuck. Are you a clutz or something?” He growled holding his forehead. The impact caused you to see two pairs of red eyes glaring at you.

“Look, that was definitely my mistake. I apologize.” Your vision began to come back together and you started to get your things. He reached for the jeans and handed them to you.

You both stood up and then you realized how handsome he was. Spiked ash hair covered his head like a crown, crimson eyes, full lips, and a strong jaw line.

Wow...they definitely make them different in this country.

“Tch, you got a staring problem or did you knock something loose, dumbass?”

“My name’s Y/N, not dumbass.” You shot back, annoyed. He stood silently, shaking his head, and began to chuckle. “What’s so funny?” You questioned.

“Um...you’ve got...” was all he said before pulling the black thong with a cherry print from your shoulder and holding it infront of you with one finger.

“Oh my god.” You squealed and ripped it from his hand. He continued to laugh and walked out of the bathroom. You ran straight to the shower and locked the door. You sank to the floor with your hands covering your face.

Great. I’ve been in Japan for an hour and I’ve already embarrassed myself.

[a-monsters-love]

hi! could i request a story with deku, bakugo, and todoroki in third year with y/n (so it’s like the big three but four people). y/n has a earth bending type quirk and they are all getting introduced to the first years and like them training them? tysm for considering!

Oh god I’ve had so many ideas for this since you sent this request, like I rewatched The Big Three episode like 5 times for this.

Also just as an FYI it’s cannon that Aizawa is only a freshman/first year teacher so like, our cast for the fic is in 3-A and Aizawa is still gonna be class 1-A’s teacher 😹

Beta read by: @hxwks-gf

[Master List]

(Y/N) = Your name (L/N) = Last name

The Big Four:

[Image found here]

“Why the FUCK are we doing this again?” Bakugo hissed as the four of you walked towards your old classroom.

Izuku chuckled, “Because Aizawa asked us to, we have to meet 1-B later too.” He scanned through his most recent notebook that he filled with notes on the current class 1-A. “Thanks again for recording the sports festival for me, (Y/N).”

“Of course,” You croon, watching him start to spiral, “And Katsuki, before you start whining more; Aizawa has been through enough because of us. This is literally the least we can do.” You chide. Bakugo simply responded with a huff and a unintelligible grumble.

Shoto hums in response from ahead of the group as you near the room. “Let’s just do what we were asked,” He says glancing back, his hand is on the door waiting for the rest to get in ‘formation’ and Aizawa’s cue for you to enter.

When the cue is heard the door opens and the four of you walk in, the new class 1-A gasps in your presence. You smile softly at the freshmen, excitement and nostalgia running through you. “You may already know them as the Big Four, but-“ He looks over at each of you, “They’ll introduce themselves now.”

Izuku’s face goes beat red as he stammers to introduce himself, “I-I’m Midoriya Izuku, I’m r-really excited to meet you.” He bows violently, earning a handful of chuckles from the class and from you.

Shoto, who seems to be spacing out, continues without a beat: “I’m Todoroki Shoto.” Everyone just stared, starstruck by him, but also surprised at his simple disposition.

“It’s Bakugo Katsuki,” He says pointing at himself. “I have better things to do than deal with a bunch of EXT-“ You slap your hand over his mouth hard enough for it to echo through the room.

Izuku and Shoto both drop their heads and sigh in embarrassment. However, the freshman class looked at you in horror; everyone knew Bakugo had a horrible personality, and they could see pink and purple swelling form under where your hand still sat over his mouth.

His yell was muffled under your hand, but you ignored it. “Sorry about him,” A chuckle escaped you. “Come-on, best behavior—we owe the man.” You whispered and pointed your head at your old teacher, Aizawa rolled his eyes but Bakugo relented. “I’m (L/N) (Y/N), today is gonna be a lot of fun.” You wiggled your eyebrows and the class laughed awkwardly, you could hear them all muttering among themselves.

“These four are here to talk to you about the work study program, they’ll also be in charge of your gym class for today.” Aizawa muttered while stepping into his sleeping bag.

The four of you watch him and snort a bit, “Some things never change.” Izuku laughed out, looking back at the class he started. “Okay, so, work studies. Work studies...” He hummed to himself and pulls out his notebook. You stifle a laugh and shoot Aizawa a knowing glance. “Well, whenwewerestillinclass1-Awemetthebigthree,andtheywerelikeusbutnotus.Wait,ohmanimgettingofftrack.Whatiwantedtotalkaboutwastheworkstudiesyoullbein.Youknowyoullbasicallybedoingtheherostuffwithoutbeingtheproandyoullbeshadowingherostogettheswingofthingsbeforeyourinterships.Honestly,whenwedidourswefoundourselvesinalotoftroublebecauseoftheherokil-waitimnotsupposedtotalkaboutthat.Wellicouldstartwithlearningyourquirks,imeanthebestwaytofigureouthowtohelpaherohopefulistoknowexactlywhattheycanandcantdoplusihavemynoteswhichcouldprobablyhelpifyouwantedtotakealookattrainingideasorusagesuggeationsimeaniveseenalotofdifferentquirksinmylifeandivetakennotesofallofthemforthefutureandyouguysarethefuture.”

“You fucking idiot! That’s not- WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT?” Bakugo cuts him off, throwing his hands up.

Shoto put a hand on his shoulder, “We’re friends now, calm down.” Bakugo screeches something along the lines about not being friends and you take the opportunity to scoot over towards your freshman teacher.

Aizawa’s glare froze his class while the three continued to do what they do best.

“Remember when I told you this was a bad idea?” You say leaning over, he just groans in response. “This is the part where I say I told you so.” You snicker and clap your hands loudly, “Well as fun as this is, let’s show you the difference.” You smile towards the class, “Between where you are and where you can be.” Your three classmate make unintelligible noises but oblige as they walk out of the classroom.

———

“Katsuki doesn’t remember because he was suspended but when we met our seniors while we were still class 1-A, we fought as an entire class against just 1 senior. Can anyone guess how that went?” You ask, as the four of you and the class were now dressed in your gym uniforms. The freshmen share looks between each other and no one answered. “We had our asses handed to us without landing a single blow.” That earned a collective gasp from the class.

Aizawa split the students up among the four of you. Izuku was assigned students who focused on close range attacks, Shoto was assigned long range attackers, and you and Bakugo got a split of those who can do both.

“Don’t expect us to go easy on you.” Katsuki sneers, you and Izuku chuckle and Shoto just nods in agreement.

As much as the freshmen think they have the upper hand, it was quickly evident that they in fact did not. Izuku surprised his group when he send air pressure shots at each of them. Shoto’s attacks, while not surprising, were more intricate than they’ve ever seen. You’ve barely moved an inch dodging all their attacks whilst sending stone slabs and boulders at them. Bakugo’s started by sending AP shots at his before making a loud whistle and the four of you swapped. Shoto takes Izuku’s kids, Izuku takes Katsuki’s, Katsuki takes yours and you take Shoto’s. Whines and complaints are heard but every time any of you hear one you slam the kid who complained twice as hard as the rest.

After swapping 2 more times you stop, while the four of you seemed fine the class looked on the verge of death, “What did we learn?” You ask them.

After incredulous noises are heard, groans and cries, the four of you snort in amusement.

“I told you they were idiots, you really don’t get it do you?” Bakugo hissed, and you waved a hand to let him rant. He points at three students, “You three gave (Y/N) a run for her money! When she ‘escaped’ why didn’t you run after her??” He barked out questions and pseudo complements.

“Well, Aizawa-“ One of them started.

“Do you really think in a real villain attack you can afford to just wait for orders? Or stay in some planned formation?” Shoto asked.

The class got silent and thought, “If we were really villains, you’d all be… well, dead by now.” Izuku commented and rubbed the back of his head. A few chuckles are heard from the four of you and you walk to fix the gym, with simple motions the rubble and debris caused from the training to level out.

“Wait, we could have-“

“Oh yeah! Maybe it would have worked-“

“We should try training like this-“

Conversations erupted from your juniors and the four of you split again to help them train. You forced stone platforms up for each student, and Izuku suggested a sparring match to give them an example.

You stood at a distance while Izuku and Bakugo aimed to shoot their respective bullets at you, as soon as they were about to fire you flicked two beams of stone upright to collide with their wrists. After knocking their shots off target, “Disarming your opponent can buy you time to strategize,” You slide your foot and cause the earth below Shoto to loosen and knock him on his right side. The ice he attempted to send out froze Bakugo and Izuku in place. “And use their strengths against them.”

With a shrug and a groan the lecture continues, you even caught Bakugo with a smirk while helping someone out. Aizawa watched in silence, he wouldn’t say he was surprised but he was glad to see how much the four of you had grown. Being able to see an unashamed smirk on Katsuki’s face and to hear Shoto genuinely laugh was proof enough that they had made great strides towards adulthood.

✨Bonus✨

“Are.. Are you tearing up??” Present Mic asks as he enters the gym.

Aizawa scowls and rubs his face, “I have dry eye.” He hissed, “You’ve known that for years!”

Hizashi grins ear to ear, “You must be really proud of your kids.” He teases, “I always knew you were the dad type, Shota.”

“Oh, for fucks sake..” He groans, palming his face. “I hate it here.”

“We love you too, dad!” You shout jokingly in the distance, Hizashi doubles over laughing while Aizawa’s face started to twitch.

“I didn’t know Aizawa was your dad...” Shoto mutters, earning himself face palms and laughter from you and the other students.

The world isn’t ready for the four of you, and it’s gonna be an interesting place.

[saintone]

Could sleep last night so i made a MP100 au lol.

Power comes from emotions, mainly strong ones, like pain. It is often said that those who are strong, suffered a lot.

·         Hanazawa, 22, gets assigned to the Esper Vigilance and Control Department of the Japanese Policeforce, also known as EVCD. They are encharged with keeping track on espers.

·         With such inhuman habilities and complicated pasts, the goverment considers Espers especially dangerous. After Mogami’s attacks, they started registering all espers on the system, writing down their powers and capacities, and watching them to make sure none of the broke the rules.

·         Hanazawa, an esper, is assigned to work with Tome. Teams are usually built off a human and an esper, so in case something goes wrong someone can fight with the dangerous esper.

·         Needles to say, Teru isn’t very exited about his new job. He doesn’t complain though, because someone with a past like him feels just grateful that he didn’t end up in jail yet.

·         Teru was a gangster and used his powers on other people, until he was forced to change. He picked a fight with the wrong person and they beat him up.

·         ―You should use your powers on people, ―the other kid told him.

·         He teached Teru a lesson: he wasn’t special. Espers like him, weren’t special. He was just another member of society, and if he wanted to belong, he had to adapt.

·         Luckily for him, he was never caught by the police.

·         “Everyone deserves a second chance”, he thinks. But the system doesn’t.

·         When he arrives on his first day, Tome isn’t there. She is checking on some of their Espers. He is told to check on another one, and because she isn’t there, he has to go alone.

·         Kageyama Ritsu and Suzuki Shou are partners and his deskmates. They help him out a bit.

·         ―Ah, you got Mob―, Shou says.

·         ―¿Mob?

·         The subject hasn’t got a lastname, just his name figuring: “Shigeo”. There also isn’t any information on his strengt level. Orphan, entered the system when he was eight after an incident where a kid got hurt. No other problems since then.

·         ―That’s what we call him, cause he’s like, a mob character, in the background. That guy’s probably the easiest one here. No one’s even seen him use his powers, I don’t think he’s even an esper.

·         ―If he’s like what I heard, you’all should learn from him. ―Ritsu.

·         ―Don’t mind this guy. He hates people like us.―Shou

·         Hanazawa takes it as his cue to leave.

·         There isn’t a photo of this mob guy.

·         Mob works at the supermarket and Hanazawa goes to check out there. He barely graduated High School with average-low grades, so now he’s a repositor. From what Hanazawa has seen, this guy isn’t very good at keeping a job, he often losses them.

·         As if to prove it, When Hanazawa arrives Mob is getting scolded for dropping milk.

·         ―Though day at work, huh?

·         Mob looks at him bluntly. ―Huh? Ah, yes.

·         Imagine Teru’s surprise after seeing ‘Mob’ is the guy who saved his life, all those years ago.

 

cue to Mob

 

·         Mob was eight, coming from school with his little brother when suddently a bunch of high scholers attacked them to steal their money. After losing conscious because of being hit, Mob opens his eyes and sees them all hurt: The high scholers, and Ritsu. He had hurt him.

·         Mob gets taken away.

·         ―Espers have to learn to live in society and adapt themselves to it’s rules―, the goverment tells their family. They tell Mob parent’s that he attacked his little brother.

·         ―We will take good care of him.

·         This was just after Mogami’s attacks, society was scared, goverments were getting though. Mob wasn’t a kid no more. He was an Esper.

·         Legally speaking, Mob is given out on adoption. Truth is his parents didn’t have a choice.

·         Ristu grows up without knowing he ever had a brother.

·         Mob grows up thinking he killed his.

·         Mob starts living in the goverment facilities for Esper kids. They slowly start filling up. Bunch of bunk beds on an indoor gym, old houses and stuff. School is the usual, except for Ethics Class.

·         “Never use your powers on a human being”

·         They got punished every time they used their powers. Mob, being clumsy as he is, forgot at the beginning. His powers slipped like a person is used to scratching when it itches, or blinking.

·         He got punished often.

·         Bad marks, bad looks, clumsy, antisocial. The other kids bullied him a lot. Some teachers did too.

·         They cut his hair, helmet cut. Mob kept it.

·         For those who chose to work in the police force, they were moved, given proper training. Mob learnt that using his powers was wrong, so he never used them. Especially using them on people. That was off limits.

·         That’s what he told that guy me met when he was around fifteen, coming home from school. He saw a fight. Among them was an Esper kid, beating up others.

·         Mob didn’t want him to end up in the system like him.

·         But he accidentally hurt the kid. Almost killed him. Mob came home late, beaten up, and was punished for it afterwards. It was the first time anyone saw him cry, even though it wasn’t his first physical punishment, nor was it the worst.

·         But Mob wasn’t crying because of the pain. He cried bc he hadn’t changed. After all this years, he had done it again. He had hurt someone.

·         Mob grew up and started working on lots of things. Because he was clumsy and dumb, he was often fired. He lived on a shithole.

·         One day he was tested to write down the level of his powers on the files, but he didn’t do anything. He got beaten up by the testers, who though Mob was just trying to pretend he wasn’t an Esper, but still he didn’t move. They wrote a bunch of question marks on his strength level. Nobody thought it was too big thou, mostly going on with the values he had as a child.

·         As if his only capacity was breathing and standing there, on EVCD he was given the nickname Mob.

·         But strength came from pain and suffering. Mob’s powers were unimaginable.

telk me if u wanna know how it goes on!

[acescreations]

Roleplay Transcript (pt. 1)

So this is an old roleplay I got permission from my RP partner to post to my writing blog. I guess revisiting this is kind of a birthday gift to myself and also an apology gift to all of you guys for not writing for shit.

Warnings: Fighting, swearing, violence, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, homophobia, panic attacks

Ship(s): Platonic Analogical

Word Count: 12,553

When Logan went to school on his first day of junior year, he was filled with a strange sense of pride. Students shot glances at him, seemingly worried that Logan would for some reason pick a fight with them, which he would only really do if they were being a jerk and deserved it. Teachers read his name off the attendance list with a hopeless tone upon realizing they had Logan, before looking up with a disappointed resignation when they saw Logan's patch of electric blue hair. Logan had built up a reputation of being strong, of being tough. Just about every kid in school knew about him, whether they be the bullies he fought, the kids he was defending from the bullies, or just the people who saw the fights he was in.

Virgil’s first day at Mindset High was pretty scary. He didnt make friends easily, and he felt like everyone was judging him. He wore a soft lavender hoodie and royal purple sweat pants. Everyone seemed scared of this guy called Logan. I mean, he seemed so grumpy.. He sighed, sitting next to Logan.

Logan blinked in surprise as he watched another student sit down next to him. Most people tried to avoid him as much as possible, so he usually sat alone during class. Even when there were only enough desks for each student in the classroom, people usually pulled their desk a distance away after even the slightest glance from Logan. He guessed this kid sitting next to him hadn't heard of his reputation yet. Well, unfortunately for him, the two were in Logan's least favorite class: history. The class that Logan now associated with whitewashed nationalist propaganda, and arguing with the teacher.

Virgil decided that he would at least get to know this strange man that everyone seemed so.. reluctant to like？ “Uh, hello, I’m.. well, if..  I’m Virgil.” He said tamely, he hoped that they could.. maybe talk？A friend would be nice.

Logan looked over at Virgil with an even, if not cold, expression. That wasn't a name he recognized, so this was probably a new student, which explained why they were actually talking to him. "Logan," he said shortly. They'd learn soon enough that Logan was someone you didn't want to be associated with if you want to have even just a neutral social standing.

Virgil nodded nervously. The dude seemed to be angry at him？Did he provoke him？Should he move seats？ He sighed as he looked down at his work.

Logan put his feet up on the table in front of him, pulling out his phone as he waited for the teacher to, as he put it, "begin his attempt at brainwashing a class of impressionable teenagers."

“Today we shall learn about the history of people that.. well.. people who.. the homosexuals.. and.. others.” Virgil was completely stunned, before immediately grtting dissapointed. “Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw.” He mumbled.

"Oh hell no," Logan said out loud. Literally everyone in the room probably already guessed about Logan not being straight, so he didn't have anything to lose from being vocal about his distaste over the lesson. "Oh, FUCK no." Underneath his iwn complaining, however, he heard Virgil's much more quiet complaint. Okay, so this guy is actually pretty chill. That's good to know. By "chill" Logan meant "not a smallminded conservative" but those pretty much meant the same thing to him.

Virgil sighed. “This.. is fine.” He said. He was a closeted gay boy, he didnt need this. “Now, this shall be respectful..” The teacher rolled her eyes. “Now, what do we know about.. you know.. those people.”

Logan heard what Virgil said, but to him, this most certainly was not fine. He had already picked his battles, and he picked all of them. "If it's gonna be respectful then why don't you just say the word 'Gay'?" he yelled at the teacher.

The class went dead silent. Virgil sighed softly. If someone found out he was gay, he would die on the inside. “Well, as you all know, the bible said that homosexuals.. will rot in hell.”

"FALSEHOOD!" Logan screamed, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up. "Respectful my ass! And how is this even history?!" Logan would go on, but if he's learned anything from the debate team, it's to let people keep saying stupid shit for Logan to prove wrong.

“Homosexuality is a diease. Now, now more recent years, we have homosexuality shoved down our throats. This is causing more parents to force their children to be gay. This all started because a black trans-” “Please stop talking..” Virgil groaned, tempted to just bash his head into the table.

"Gayness is NOT a disease," Logan said, smacking his hand on the table as he began talking over the teacher. "It's a human characteristic just like height or eye color. Gayness is NOT being 'shoved down our throats,'" he smacked the table again, "people are just getting introduced to labels they didn't originally have. Parents are NOT forcing their children to be gay-" smack "- most are actually beating and throwing their children out of their homes for being gay. But you know what? You just keep talking. Maybe one of these days you'll actually say something intelligent."

“You come from a biased pretense！You only see the side of the homosexuals, thats why you are one of the-” “OH, FOR FUCKS SAKE, CHANGE THE GOD DAMN SUBJECT YOU-” “Damn pastel！Didnt know you could speak.” A guy called out.

Logan immediately turned and shot a glare at the person who insulted Virgil, forgetting the current feud with the teacher for a moment. "If you're going to waste oxygen like that, at least keep it relevant to the conversation." Logan then turned back to the teacher. "You're the fucking biased one, you homophobe!" he shouted, pointing a finger at the teacher as he leaned nearly halfway across the table to yell at him.

“I am not a homophobe！I like.. the lesbians.” The teacher smirked, as Virgil began to laugh. Hes just,, this teacher, how did you get a job？ ”Fine. We will move onto a differ-”

For once in his life, Logan is so stunned by by what he's hearing reaches a loss for words. "How did you even get your teaching degree, you fucking creep?"

“I try to act respectful, and you insult me？I think people like you just stir up drama to draw attention to yourself.” Virgil had stopped laughing. He felt.. guilty. He shouldnt have laughed. Maybe the teacher was right？

Logan went completely silent, his hands curling into fists. "Don't. You. Ever. Generalize me. Like that." Then, to make sure he didn't try to physically fight his teacher, he walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

Virgil watched Logan leave, watched everyone whispering about how freaky Logan was. How gay he was.. Virgil stayed quiet and refused to speak to anyone.

Logan stormed down the hallway, absolutely fuming. He ended up in the school's gym, knowing there wasn't a gym class that period. He let out a shout of frustration as he punched a wall, which hurt, obviously, but it satisfied him and let out some of his anger. After that he just stood there, fist against the wall, breathing heavily.

Virgils scheduele was lost, so he asked around for his next class. They led him to the schools gym, and left him there, lost and confused. Time to make an unlikely friend.

Logan had since moved to sit on the bleachers, glancing up to glare as Virgil entered the gym. He was currently in a mindset that nobody would be friendly towards him, especially right now.

Virgil felt the glare, but sighed. He did promise Patton to make one friend at this god forsaken hell hole. He slowly walks up to Logan. “Uhrm, hi？”

"What do you want?" Logan growled. He recognized that this was the person who was sitting beside him in history, but he still felt like he'd antagonize Logan anyway. Most people did anyway.

He gave Logan a weak smile. “A..Are you okay？” He tilted his head. ”And where is the rest of our class？” He expected at least one othed person to come in. Poor thing.

"I'm fine," Logan snapped defensively, in a counter-productive attempt at convincing Virgil that that was actually true. "And there isn't a class in here right now." Logan didn't have a gym class at all. He was actually skipping a class right now, but it wasn't like his teacher would miss him anyway.

“Oh..” He stammered, looked down at the floor guiltily. “Do you know where S7 is？” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And.. wait. Why arent you in class.. oh.”

Logan sighed as he stood up. "Yeah, come on." He gestured for Virgil to follow him with a small shrug of a shoulder.

Virgil smiled. “Thank you, Logan.” He said softly, following behind him, glad that Logan would do this for him.

Logan shrugged as he began leading Virgil to his classroom. "Whatever," he muttered. Whatever it took to get himself his alone time in the gym. He doubted it would do Virgil's social reputation much good to see him with Logan, though.

“To be honest, that ass of a teacher really should be fired. What kind of creep just likes lesbians？” He tried to make small talk.

"Basically the entire American public does, actually." Logan was pretty sure it was a rhetorical question, but it wasn't like he was wrong, he thought.

“oh.. well.. thats..” Virgil sighed. “Why were you there alone instead of hanging out with friends？” He seemed rather done.

Logan glanced back at Virgil, although he didn't stop walking. "Because there are classes going on right now," Logan said. It was true, although Logan wasn't hanging out with friends because he didn't have any. He just wasn't going to tell Virgil that.

“Dont you have a badass like, gang？Like everyone says？” He tilted his head, very confused. “Oh.. are you.. uh..” He was genuinely confused.

"A gang?" Logan said in mild surprise and disbelief. That was seriously what people said about him? Logan guessed he underestimated his own reputation.

“Yeah. Also, apparently you dont like when people steal your role, so you are going to beat my ass. If you are, then I guess do it here.” He has no fear for death anymore. This school sucked any hope of caring out of him.

"What exactly do people say my role is then?" Logan hadn't intended on carrying on a conversation for this long, or really at all, but he couldn't help but be curious as to what people said about him.

He stared up at the sky, he really didnt want to say this. Dear god, please strike him with lighting. Oh, no lighting？F- “You’re the bad boy that all the girls swoon over. Apparently you’re soft and sweet on the inside.” He scoffed slightly. His defense is up.

Logan stiffened as he continued walking, gagging a little. That was it. It was official. Logan hated his reputation. He supposed he'd have to work harder on establishing his reputation as being stone cold and heartless. He wasn't going to stop picking fights with bigots though, he knew that much. "Well, here's your class," he said to Virgil, stopping in front of a classroom before immediately turning go back to the gym instead of the class he had that period.

“Thanks Logan.” He gave him a weak grin. “Logan Man, Fighting off bigots day after day.” He scoffed, before it turned to a light giggle, and Virgil went into class. What a dork. A nice dork.

Logan glanced back as he walked off, turning back after Virgil walked into class. As he neared the gym again, he glanced down at his left knuckles. After punching the wall, they became red and sore, and Logan was starting to regret punching the wall. His hand still stung.

This is why you dont start a war on walls, you idiot. Virgils class exprience was.. intresting. They made up rumors about him and Logan, and Virgil wanted to vomit. Love always made him feel weird and uncomfortable, but hes absolutely sure hes just gay.

Logan sat back down in the gym bleachers. He didn't know what he was doing back here instead of going to class. He guessed he pretty much didn't want to hear whatever his classmates would say about him. That was actually the first time he stormed out in the middle of class like that, and he assumed that was what people would be talking about right now.

They began to gossip about Logan having a girlfriend, boyfriend, and then him being in a gang. Now they all think Logans a fucking gang leader. Good luck talking to anyone, Logie.

After sitting in the gym with nothing to do for a while, Logan stood back up and headed to the band room. That was where he usually went when he wanted alone time, the gym had just been closer that time. As he walked down, he realized that being a musician probably contributed to people thinking he's "soft and sweet on the inside" but fuck it. Music is probably the reason he doesn't throw hands with every mildly unpleasant person in his vicinity.

Virgil cant stop laughing at the pure idiocity, wanting to just record this and send it to Logan... Eh, later. Once he befriends Logan. He nods to himself as the bell rung. Now he could go find Logan！And hang out with him！

Logan had just reached the band room by the time the bell rang. "God dammit," he said loudly. Now he'd have to choose between letting out some energy and missing another class. Logan sat down behind the drumset in the room, pulling out his phone and earbuds. He figured his teacher wouldn't miss him, and really, who cares if the teacher calls his house? Who gives a shit? Certainly not him. So he put on a pair of fingerless gloves he kept with him, turned on his music, and played along to American Idiot.

Virgil was going to class, but heard... music？He quietly walks towards the sounds, peering in. They had a music room？！ Logan plays music？！ He quietly attempted to sneak in, to be able to hear better. He ended up tripping into a guitar, miraculously not breaking it.

Most people would've heard Virgil tripping as he snuck in, but not only was Logan listening to really loud music, but he was also playing a really loud instrument. But really, neither of those things meant much, because Logan was in The Zone. It would take a lot to break his focus.

Virgil was extremely impressed. Logan really was in the mood. He sat on the floor, just admiring the music.

Logan looked up once the song had ended, quickly pulling out his earbuds and jolting upwards once he saw Virgil sitting there. "What the hell are you doing here?"

“...Uhhhhh, I thought this was the cafeteria？Nice pl-playing.” He quickly stood up, immediately smackin into a cupboard and just sighing softly.

"Of course this isn't the fucking cafeteria, do you see any tabl-" Logan went quiet for a moment when he saw the knocked over guitar. He practically threw himself over the drumset as he ran to check on the guitar, because despite the fact that the school technically owned all of the instruments, that was Logan's Guitar. "The fuck did you do?!" Logan shouted as he checked the guitar over for any damage.

He quickly stood up. “See-ing a-as this isnt the cafeteria, I-I’m going to-” He began to speed for thr door.

Logan looked back up once he was sure his guitar was alright. Once he saw Virgil heading for the door, it occurred to him what he had just done. "I, I didn't mean to snap," he said apologetically, rubbing the back of his head as he looked away from Virgil. This new body language was a complete change from how he usually acts.

Virgil paused, reluctantly rubbing the back of his neck. “U-Uh, oh, ok-okay. I’m.. I’m sorry. You.. You clearly werent..” All words just seemed to die in his mouth.

Logan sighed as he stood back up. "Whatever, just, try not to knock any instruments over, okay?" Logan mumbled as he began walking past Virgil out the door. Okay, so he didn't mumble, but compared to how clearly he normally speaks he might as well have been.

"Thank you, L-Logan." He stammered. He didnt move, just awkwardly standing there. "O-Oh, uh, of course.. Uh, can I sit with you at lunch?" He managed through jumbled stammering.

Logan glanced back at Virgil as he walked out, trying to understand the logic of wanting to be around somebody who just yelled at you for something that wasn't intentional. Logan was hoping it wasn't anything like Logan being nice, because if Logan was the nicest person Virgil knew, well that's just sad. "Sure, whatever." Logan shrugged. He didn't actually know if he was actually going to stay until lunch, since he had been planning on leaving for the rest of the day. He shrugged at himself as he left the band room. Logan supposed he'd find out by lunch.

Virgil just followed after him, quietly. Hey, Logans the nicest guy here at this hell hole of a school, Well, the nicest guy he has met. He looks around, feeling awkward. Oh god. Why is he bothering Logan. He doesnt want you here. Just leave. "Uh-"

Logan attempted to continue walking as normal, despite the ever present awareness of Virgil following him. After all, by the looks of this kid, he's definitely harmless. Although after a while it became hard to ignore the little lost puppy of Virgil. "What are you following me for?" Logan asked over his shoulder. "Don't you have a class or something?" Honestly, how is anyone supposed to let out some steam when someone is following them everywhere?

Virgil flinched. "uh.. yeah.. sure.." He mumbled, and he quickly left. He didnt know why he cared so much. Oh wait, yes he did. Because he wanted Logan's friend. Why? Because he found Logan cool.

Logan sighed once Virgil left. He didn't really know why. Was he disappointed? Logan actually thought he might be. That was probably the longest anyone had ever voluntarily been around him, after all. Either way, Logan still had no idea what to do at this point, especially considering that if he left before school ended he'd definitely have to deal with the consequences soon enough.

Virgil headed off into the bathroom. He just needed somewhere to stay calm, and clear his head. Everything just made him feel horrible. He quietly locked himself into a stall, keeping himself quiet.

Logan leaned against a wall in the hallway, getting out his phone as he debated his options. If he left school now, Virgil wouldn't have to worry about his mistake of wanting to be around him during lunch, but his mom would be pissed if she found out he didn't even stay half of the day. But if he stayed and went to class, he'd half a lot of pent up anger with him during class, and his home had probably already been called due to him not having made it to this class period, so he'd still probably hear about it anyway.

Virgil calmed himself down, and went back outside. He looked around, wondering if Logan was still around. He.. He hoped so. He is not going to that hell hole alone.

Logan sighed as he put his phone away, finally heading to class. He was pretty sure that it was the world's most stupid desicion for Virgil to want to be anywhere near him, but as a new kid who clearly had no idea how to survive in this school, he probably wouldn't be very safe if he was alone during lunch.

Virgil quietly sighed, deciding to go to class. He hid his eyes with his hair. He slunk into the back of the class, trying to keep away from everyone.

Logan managed to keep himself from throwing hands for the rest of his morning class, heading down to the lunchroom afterwards. He stood against a wall and watched people enter without personally eating.

Once that hellish excuse for a class was done, Virgil quietly found Logan and walked up to him. “Uh, hi.”

Logan looked over at Virgil, honestly kind of surprised that he committed to his decision to spend the lunch period with Logan. "Hey," he said briefly, looking back across the room.

He gave him a pathetic grin, trying to not be awkward, but the boy radiates awkward. “Uh, uhm, er, hi.” He began to play with his hands, biting his lip.

"You don't talk to people much, do you?" Logam didn't look back at Virgil as he spoke. Was he hoping Virgil would decide Logan actually was unpleasant to be around and leave? Yeah, Logan thought he was.

“N-Not really.” He mumbled, not moving, copying Logans pose. He wasnt exactly enjoying the people staring at him, but hes happy having a friend.

Logan's surprise grew as Virgil started copying him. He didn't know why, but that was really unexpected. "Aren't you going to eat or something?" Logan was determined to not let his surprise, or really any other emotion, show.

Virgil shook his head, deciding a verbal response wasnt worth it. Plus, the food looked like slop. He fidgetted with his hands, trying to spark a conversation.

Logan glanced over at Virgil, trying to figure out what to do in this situation. God, this kid is making me more awkward just by being around me. It's a wonder he's survived this long.

Virgil thought about his family. His family sucked. It would be nice to know what raised that hardcore lad. “Uh... Whats your family like？” He said softly. God fUcking damn it, Virgil. You cant ask about anything N O RM A L-

The change in Logan's posture was immediate. His back straightened, his shoulders became more squared, his hands tightened into fists. "Why do you care?" Logan's voice was cold and hard as knives.

Virgil shrunk back, his eyes wide. “I-I dont know？I’m just trying to make conversations..” He trailed off, going silent. Wait. Why was Logan caring so much. “Oh god, are you an orp-”

Logan scoffed at that second comment, giving Virgil the slightest shake of his head and somehow managing to make those small actions violent and angry. I wish I was that lucky.

Virgil flinched. He felt his heart race at those angry movements. “Uh, er.. sorry.” Virgil practically sped off, he feels sick.

Logan turned and watched him go. If he were in any other mood, he'd probably feel bad for scaring Virgil like that. But right now he didn't even care, he simply turned back to glare at the rest of the people in the room.

The whispers of the room continued, questioning Logan and why he doesnt like his family

Logan didn't say anything to anyone, although when he heard someone talking about him he'd shoot a glare at them to get them to shut up.

The cafeteria was awkward and quiet. Nobody wanted to talk to Logan, or get beaten up.

Eventually Logan got tired of the stares and went back to the gym. He would've went to the band room, but there was a class there at the time, so he had to go with the next best thing.

Virgil was sitting behind the bleachers, desperately trying to calm himself. Logan hates him. Everyone hates him. He hates this hell-hole of a school.

Logan didn't notice Virgil as he came in, walking over to a padded part of the wall so he could punch it and not hurt himself again. He punched the wall, then drew his hand back and punched again, and again, and again. He hated his mother. He hated every single boyfriend she had ever had. He hated this school. He hated that he was always alone. He hated that this one time somebody actually wanted to be around him, he was determined to scare them off. He hated everything right now.

The punches just terrified Virgil even more. Oh great. Now a murderer was after him. He let out a strangled gasp, as his world began to spin round, making Virgil shake.

Logan paused when he heard the gasp behind him. He turned and finally noticed Virgil behind him, and of course it was only after he started panicking. Logan stood there, trying to figure out if he should go try to help, considering he was probably the thing causing Virgil to panic and being closer might just make it worse.

He couldnt breathe. The gasps became more frequent. Fuck. Hes gonna die here. Hes gonna die alone. Jesus this is getting sad.

Soon enough, Logan decided on walking over, kneeling down in front of Virgil. It wasn't like he was getting any better without Logan interacting. "Hey, Virgil?" Logan started in the most even voice he could produce. "I'm gonna need you to calm down, can you do that? Just focus on breathing." Fuck, is this what you're supposed to do? Logan honestly didn't have a clue, but from what he did know about panic attacks this seemed like an appropriate response.

Virgil trembles, before his blood stopped. Logan. “I-I’m sorry！I’m sorry！I-I-I-I...” He hears that Logans hear to help. “I-I cant- I-I’m a failure！”

Upon hearing Virgil's words, Logan's hands curled into fists. He was immediately ready to fight on behalf of someone he didn't even know. Then Logan reminded himself that right now, fighting was not in fact going to help. He took a deep breath, forcing his hands to relax again before continuing to talk to Virgil. "No, you're not a failure, there's no need to be sorry." Logan slowly reached out and took one of Virgil's hands in his own, checking for his reaction.

Virgil jolted, scramming away, apologizing. “I said- I said sorry！P-Please.. Leave me alone.” He sobbed. “I-I-I-” He felt his throat constrict.

Logan quickly pulled his hands away from Virgil, feeling guilt like a stab in his gut. This was all because of him, wasn't it? Maybe he should just leave, Virgil did tell Logan to leave him alone, didn't he? And Logan was pretty sure he just made it worse because he had no idea how to help, so Virgil would probably be better off if Logan left him alone.

Virgil whimpers, god hes so pathetic. Such a useless person. “Pathetic.. Useless..” He mumbled softly, looking away from Logan. The attack was beginning to die down, but he wouldnt be calm for a while.

Logan opened his mouth, about to correct Virgil on what he was saying about himself, but then he hesitated, and soon closed his mouth again. Logan looked down at the floor as he slowly stood back up and left, his endgoal being the doors leading out of the school. Logan officially decided he was done with being around people for a good while. Logan easily ignored the stares of the people in the halls. Most people took one look at Logan's overall demeanor and knew not to stare, so Logan was able to get out the school doors without even being interuppted.

Virgil made sure to keep close to Logan. He felt so guilty, he can’t believe he was so stupid. He had to have Logan come help him from a panic attack！All he is, is a panicky, clingy, failure.

Logan sighed and turned around as he got outside the door, facing Virgil. "Don't you have something better to do? Like class or something?" Logan was trying not to snap, especially since Virgil had just gotten out of a panic attack, but his voice was still harsh. Logan just wanted an escape from people, and now this little lost puppy of a person was becoming the first and only obstacle to that.

He kept his mouth shut. He felt so awkward. Like he owed Logan and apology. For seeing that. For seeing how much of a mess he was.. Yeah, he left soon after Logan spoke.

Logan walked away from the school after that, although he didn't really know where he was going. All he really knew at the time was that he wanted to escape from people, despite the fact that he didn't know where he could go that didn't have people. Logan ended up going over to the park, deciding that the park would have the least amount of people. After a while Logan had calmed down enough to tolerate human connection again, and walked down to the local café, because despite its black color, the fabric of Logan's jacket did little to protect him from the cold. He almost smiled as he walked through the door of the café, looking at the pride flag sticker on the window. Logan sat down in a booth, although since he was a regular the staff weren't expecting him to order anything.

Virgil was nervous. He had gotten lost on his way home, and was walking down to a cafe. He was hungry, after all. He looked at his phone, cringing at its dead battery. But he managed to smile. Today started off great, at least. Logan was.. his friend？Well, he seemed to begin to tolerate Virgil. And hes fine with that. He ordered a cup with a long list of ingredients. His own list of “Fuck me up” ingredients.

Logan didn't notice Virgil walking in. He had started dozing off in his seat when a waiter walked over, giving him a plate of eggs and toast. "It's on the house. You look like you could use it," they said with a smile as they left the table. They were right about that; Logan hadn't eaten all day. Logan glanced back over, guilt weighing down his shoulders as he began eating. He glanced over at his phone as he ate. The only reason it wasn't dead was because he was at the table with the outlet. That was basically His Table and both the visitors and staff knew this. Once Logan finished eating, he put his head atop his hand and began dozing off again. The poor kid hadn't slept well in ages.

The waitress did NOT look happy that Virgil had such a long list, but, he paid and ordered it, so she had to. When he asked for an outlet seat, he was pointed into Satan- I mean, Logans direction. “Oh, hi Logan.” Virgil said softly, holding his head phone.

Logan was partially asleep at the time, although he had trained himself to not fall asleep entirely, so when he heard his name he was immediately awake and alert. He put his arm down on the table as he looked at Virgil. "Hey," he said shortly, realizing that this was the kid from school, which meant school was over. Logan hadn't really been paying attention.

“Uh, Uhmm...” He felt really awakward.. Was there any other outlet booths？Logan looked like he would murder Virgil if he sat there.

Logan raised an eyebrow at Virgil, drumming his fingers against the table. Honestly, if there was anywhere that he was least likely to murder someone, it was that café. It was quite honestly the most comfortable place he had ever been in, and he wasn't about to throw that away by getting into a fight.

Virgil looked away. They say, if you look Logan in the eye, you’ll turn into stone. “Sorry. I’ll just take the bus.” Yes. The bus. That he has no.clue about. Tbh, If I were Virgil？I’d rather walk.

Logan stared at Virgil. What the hell was he talking about? "We don't have a bus." Did Virgil just move here? Also why was he talking about a bus inside a café? What the hell was his train of thought?

Transfer student. Yes, he did just move here. Thats.. Thats kinda why he wasnt as fearful of Logan. ”Oh.” He said simply. “Fu-”

Logan sighed in confusion as he looked away from Virgil, bringing up his hand again to set his head on and closing his eyes. He didn't have any sort of obligation to interact with Virgil, so if he wasn't going to actually say anything then Logan was going to try to stock up on light sleep.

“ck.” He sighed. He awkwardly shuffled into the booth, just wanting to charge his phone, man.

Logan opened his eyes again, having expected Virgil to just stand awkwardly or leave. He glanced at the coffee Virgil had as he sat down, reading the ingredient label. "That's incredibly unhealthy for you." Logan didn't know why he was starting conversation when he could be sleeping, but he was aware of how much Virgil's coffee could fuck someone up.

“Eh. Nobody really cares.” He took a sip, waiting for his phone to do him a favour and charge. One percent, and the most aggressive spam of messages blasts through his phone. “Oh. I’m popular today.” He muttered. Of course, his parents had guests today. They had to pretend they cared.

Logan watched the phone screen as the messages showed up on the screen. Honestly he was pretty surprised by the spam, he barely ever got any messages, and he definitely didn't remember the last time his mom texted him. She generally saved her barrage of harassment for when they were face-to-face. He genuinely didn't think whatever the messages were about could be good.

They werent. They were degrading messages about his intelligence. “Ah！My mom.. uh, says that.. I gotta go.. God, shes so kind.” He made a convincing act. “See you, Punk.” He gave him a pathethically weak smile. He had no way home. Sadness hours.

Logan didn't believe the act for a second. Everything he read on that screen were things he could practically hear his mother saying to him, and "kind" wasn't even the last word he'd use to describe her. Nonetheless, he understood the need to get home. Logan sighed at the smile. Honestly it was kind of sad. "You don't know where you're going, do you?" Logan asked, deadpan. Seeing how lost Virgil was in school, the entire town probably seemed like an actual maze to him.

Virgil flinched at the deadpan tone. “Ah, well, uhrm, yeah..” He muttered, allowing his bangs to cover his eyes. “I’ll find my way home, I dont need a gang member to escort me.” He muttered, a bit of a bitter tone in his voice. He doesnt know why he said that. Maybe to drive Logan away？But he adored Logan！Logan was so cool.. God damn, you stalker, stop thinking about him！ “...sorry.” He muttered, getting up.

Logan sighed and looked away. Gang member. Is that really how people saw him? He only meant to scare off jerks and bigots, and he honestly wanted to be supportive of basically anyone who got picked on or bullied. Apparently those people couldn't trust him either. He knew he couldn't be surprised though, nobody in their right mind would trust somebody who got so angry they had to punch a wall to feel just a little better. "Whatever," Logan muttered. "I just hope you know that everyone's gonna assume you're queer now." Logan jabbed a finger towards the pride flag sticker he had looked at on the way in.

The look of sheer terror as he saw the said flag was hilarious. He had tried his best to act like a straight guy. “I’m straight.” He mumbled. “Uhm, are you gay, Logan？”

Logan almost laughed at what was to him an obvious lie. Almost. "I think I'm as straight as you are." Straight as a rainbow, that is.

Virgil looked afraid. But then again, when hes with Logan... Wait. Beforehand, Virgil wasnt scared or worried. Aww！You turned someone who, rather blindly, trusted you, against you！But isnt that what you do best, Logan？

[captainseaweedbrains]

The Dance of the Color Guard, Op. 64: Chapter 2

Katniss and Peeta used to be best friends when they were kids, but now in high school, they're barely on speaking terms. It isn't until they are forced together as the titular star-crossed lovers for their marching band's field show that they will have to face their past mistakes and try to get along if they ever hope of defeating the notorious Capitol Height's Imperial Marching Crusaders in competition.

It's all about winning and if that means pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark, so be it.

But a lot can happen in six months.

Tumblr: x x

Ao3: x x x

May

Tryouts came and went with an excellent turnout, the best Katniss had seen ever. And in true Miss Trinket fashion, the assistant director had sought out the theatre and dance kids with the promise of getting to perform such an iconic story on the biggest stage they’ll ever have the privilege to perform on. Miss Trinket wanted the drama, the flair, and she didn’t have to go far to get it.

Even more surprising was that they actually showed up and were actually pretty good. Katniss had had her doubts when seeing the likes of musical star extraordinaire Finnick Odair saunter into the gym where auditions were being held, wearing that arrogant smile she always saw on him, but after seeing what he and the other theatre and dance kids could do with a flag, she admitted she was wrong and focused her energy on earning her place as captain.

Between her and Miss Trinket’s determination, Athens Ridge Marching Gladiators might have a good chance of finally beating Capitol Heights this year at PSU!

“We’re looking promising,” she told Leevy as they put together their instruments. It was the day after final rounds of auditions and she couldn’t stop thinking how at the end of today, Miss Trinket would post who was on the team and Katniss would finally know if she was made captain or not. She had done her best, she kept telling herself, and now it was out of her hands. The wait was killing her, though, and her poor bladder was taking most of the brunt, the constant need to pee every two minutes distracting her in all her classes today.

Had she proven to Miss Trinket that she was enough to be captain?

Her legs twitched closed, the need to pee returning.

“You should have seen Finnick Odair twirl a rifle,” Katniss said to distract herself. “It was insane how good he is! I always thought he was a bit full of himself, but maybe he has a right to brag. I’m pretty sure Miss Trinket’s going to use him as one of the spotlight guards.”

Leevy’s eyes widened, her thick-rimmed glasses sliding down her nose a bit. Her crush on the performer was not an unknown fact to Katniss. “Oh, do you think she’d have him play Romeo? I bet he’ll be Romeo. He’d make an incredible Romeo.”

Katniss snorted. “I’m sure he’d be up to the challenge.” Finnick Odair not wanting the titular role would come as more of a shock to her. Miss Trinket hadn’t revealed much about how she wanted to choreograph the show, but if last season’s Cirque du Soleil and Alice Through the Looking Glass the season before were any indications of how she envisioned next season’s show, she would be using color guard to visually tell the story of the star-crossed lovers. Miss Trinket always had “big big big plans” for them all. There was no way she’d pass up on someone talented like Finnick.

Mr. Abernathy gave the two minute warning before rehearsal started up and the girls leaned toward each other to tune their flutes. As they made adjustments, Katniss wondered who would play Finnick’s Juliet. Madge, maybe? She was a good height and her years of ballet served her well, being the lead spotlight guard two years in a row. Or Glimmer? She grimaced at the thought of Glimmer Macklemore being the lead spotlight, believing it would go straight to her head. Glimmer was by far one of the worst human beings Katniss has had the misfortune of knowing all these years, but the girl was graceful. “Like a swan on water,” Miss Trinket was known for saying about Glimmer’s talent.

I hope it’s Madge, Katniss thought, glancing slightly over at her friend who sat further down the row from her, Madge’s cheeks slightly puffed as she tuned her oboe. Yes, Madge would make an incredible Juliet.

*******

All her thoughts and worry over color guard went away during what ended up being a long and brutal rehearsal. It was hard worrying over who’d play Juliet to Finnick’s Romeo when Mr. Abernathy was out for blood. He was yelling at everyone today, not pleased that they had a concert in another week and sounded like a beginning band. What made the rehearsal even worse was much of his agitation was directed at her and the two solos she had. Over and over he made her play in front of the whole band, walking her through the notes, asking her snidely who controlled the tempo. By the time he threw up his arms in defeat, her face was a completely different shade.

“Sign up for a practice room, Everdeen,” Mr. Abernathy told her after her sixth attempt at a difficult run. “And maybe work on your fingerings instead of drooling over Finnick Odair, huh?” He moved his attention to his next victims and was just as merciless.

Slumping low in her seat, her throat tight with choked back tears, Katniss focused hard on her music, pretending she was just practicing when really it took all her strength not to cry. Snickers from the brass section could be heard, or maybe she was just paranoid that the whole band was laughing at her. Either way, no matter how hard she kept her attention on her music, forcing back tears from spilling over, she couldn’t hide how dark her face must look right now. Mr. Abernathy’s words played over in her head, causing her cheeks to warm even more. From embarrassment or anger, she wasn’t sure. The man was never one to mince words and was known for his sour temper, but this was the first time he’d ever taken it out on her. And he thought her, one of his most dedicated players, as nothing more than a teenage girl drooling over boys. 

She’d never hated the man more than in this moment.

“Hey,” Leevy nudged her, face sympathetic. “You okay?” 

Katniss stiffly nodded, afraid if she said anything, she’d break and start to cry, and that was definitely something she didn’t want to do in front of the whole band. 

“He’s being an ass today,” her friend whispered in comfort, playfully bumping their knees together. “You’re his best player and he knows it. He’s probably just mad because Coin took away the pizza buffet in the cafeteria.” Katniss gave a halfhearted smile, knowing her friend was just trying to make her feel better, but Mr. Abernathy was at least right about her playing. She really did need to practice more.

“Okay, we’re calling it today,” Mr. Abernathy sighed, slamming his scorebook closed. “It’s clear no one’s practiced since yesterday and it’s wasting my time. I better hear improvement tomorrow, or I’m going to have everyone play their part and have your whole semester grade be based off that.” 

“Practice, practice, practice!” Miss Trinket trilled from the back of the room, typing at the computer. “We want to be the best, don’t we?” Mr. Abernathy gave her the stink eye, like he wanted to argue her statement, but waved his hand, reminding everyone not to leave the band room until the bell rang.

“Well that was brutal,” Leevy joked halfheartedly, her eyes still looking at Katniss with pity. Katniss looked away, unable to stomach her friend’s obvious sympathies. She’d received enough of  that look to last an entire lifetime.

“Can’t wait until he starts threatening laps,” Katniss mumbled, her throat still tight. She just wanted to leave. Run to a bathroom stall to collect herself, but it’d be too obvious and the likes of Cato and Marvel calling her a crybaby kept her seated.

*******

They didn’t often have so much time to lounge around, especially before a concert, but Katniss took the opportunity to catch up on homework she’d been neglecting, too stressed about tryouts to bother with algebra and chemistry. Feeling like everyone was still watching her, waiting for her to crack, she tucked herself in the back locker room, between two instrument lockers, out of sight from her classmates. The space was tight and not the most ideal of places to hide, but it blocked out a lot of the noise from out front and let her take a few deep breaths in. She couldn’t cry until she got home, but at least it didn’t feel like her tears were strangling her any more. 

Taking out the beat up copy of A Tale of Two Cities from her bag, Katniss began scouring the chapters they were assigned to read (or sparknoted, in her case) for political symbolisms Mr. Heavensbee, her English teacher, was always quizzing them on during his infamous rapid fire quizzes. English had never been a strong subject for her, finding the books they read incredibly dull and full of nothing but tales about old white guys bemoaning about their manhoods, but grades was the one thing her mom actually paid attention to and hers were slipping in Heavensbee’s class due to these stupid quizzes. Her pencil circled another example, not feeling confident about it, but if her index card wasn’t pulled early on, all the obvious examples would be taken and this would be all she had to argue. 

“Good book?” She jumped, her head hitting the wall behind her, pencil stabbing her in the gums. Peeta Mellark stood in front of her, looking all casual in his dark denim jeans and grey shirt, his hands stuffed in his back pockets. He smiled at her scowl. “Sorry,” he said, and to her astonishment, it sounded like he actually meant it. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“You didn’t,” she quickly informed, tucking her pencil in the book as a bookmark. “Just preparing to be publicly humiliated in English, that’s all. ”

“Heavensbee’s quizzes are brutal,” he agreed, still standing there, trying to be nonchalant, but his shoulders were way too tight to pull it off. It looked like it was taking all he had to be standing in front of her like this. Her hackles rose. Why should he look uncomfortable?  He sought her out. If anything, she should be the one uncomfortable, caged in a corner like this. “I think I almost cried during one last week,” he continued, not even looking at her now but at the locker next to her head. “Marvel wouldn’t stop making fun of me after that.” That didn’t surprise her, but it felt rude to point out what a shit person she thought Marvel Baxter was to Peeta’s face. 

“Yeah.” Katniss tapped her book, unsure what else to say. “Listen, I’m kind of busy trying not to fail and all, Peeta, so unless you have a question…?”

Peeta rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his Converse, taking a deep breath in. It was a little unsettling seeing him like this, she realized, still confused why he was talking to her to begin with. Normally he knew exactly what to say, in any given situation she’d ever seen him in. 

“Okay, seriously,” she said at last, a bit more snappish than she meant. “What do you want? I don’t have time watching you sputter like a dead fish.” 

“I want to see how you’re doing,” he said in one breath. It was a totally innocent question to ask, but it felt more like a punch to the stomach, sending her back to when she was 11 years old and standing next to her mother and Prim as strangers she barely knew came up and smothered her in tight, smelly hugs. They cried over how young Sage was, still in his prime, and poor Cary, having to raise those two young girls on her own. The funeral had felt so surreal, her movements stiff and disjointed. Her voice hollow as she thanked the strangers for coming, trying not to cry in front of them as they passed. Her father’s death still hadn’t fully hit her yet and the only thing she wanted was to crawl into the casket with him and shake him awake, tell him this joke wasn’t funny any more.  Ha ha. He got her. Now could he please get up so they could go home?

 Katniss’ throat tightened at the sudden memory and she shoved her book in her bag, really needing to go before she did something stupid, like cry in front of Peeta Mellark.

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to push past him. Peeta wasn’t only tall, but his wide frame stopped her from escaping as easily as she’d like. “Really.” 

“Katniss.” He grabbed her hand to stop her, but pulled away instantly, realizing he had no right to touch her. “You looked like you were about to cry out there and then you bolted—I wanted to see if you’re okay.” 

“I  wasn’t going to cry!” she snapped, her vision red now. There were only so many punches she could take in one class period, but it seemed the universe kept wanting to come for more. “I was doing homework, Peeta, and then you waltzed in, wanting to rub it in my face that I’m a terrible player. Were you hoping I’d cry? Is Cato secretly filming this?” She looked around the small room for Golden Ass’ burley frame. 

“Cato isn’t in here, Katniss,” he snapped back, then winced, realizing his mistake. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. What I meant was: Abernathy is a complete asshole and he shouldn’t have said those things to you. Katniss, you’re the best player in the band and he knows it.” Any other day, hearing the sweet sentiment twice in one period would have been a real confidence booster for her, but today, it just felt like pity. Leevy felt sorry for her and now freaking Peeta Mellark felt sorry for her, too. What a blow  that felt, looking into his sad blue eyes right now. 

“I don’t want your pity,” she sneered, not knowing what else to say, but if he kept looking at her like that, she was definitely going to break down crying. Then he’d just look at her with that pathetic sad expression, feeling even more sorry for her.  “Abernathy was right about my runs and I can handle his criticism like I do with everything else in my life: alone. So if you don’t mind.” And she tried to push past him. 

In typical Peeta fashion, he blocked her only exit. “I wasn’t pitying you, Katniss.” His tone sounded as sharp and annoyed as hers now. “I was being nice. I know you don’t know what that is because you think the whole world is out to get you, but it means caring about other people and being there for them.” She looked down at her feet at the sudden weight of his accusation, her hand tightening around the strap of her backpack.

They were so engrossed in their argument, neither heard the familiar clap clap clap of Miss Trinket’s heels before the small woman announced herself, causing them both to jump and turn to the small woman. 

“There you are!” the assistant director smiled. “Peeta, I have been calling your name. Didn’t you hear me?” 

Peeta glanced down at Katniss, his eyes still hard, before looking over at his teacher. “Sorry, Miss Trinket. Katniss and I were just...talking.” Why did he say it like that? He made it sound like they weren’t talking and by the twinkle of amusement in Miss Trinket’s eyes, she suspected nothing else from two teenagers hiding in a back room. 

“I’m so sorry to interrupt your... talking” —Katniss’ cheeks darkened again, wondering how fast it’d take for the rumors to start going around that she and Peeta were caught making out in the instrument locker room by Miss Trinket—“but I need to speak with you for a moment, Peeta. If you don’t mind?” She motioned for him to proceed ahead. 

Peeta’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Am I in trouble, ma’am?” 

“No, no!” their teacher assured. “Mr. Abernathy and I need to discuss something with you about this upcoming season. Nothing scary, I promise.” He went ahead with no further comment, his hands stuffed in his front pockets, as Miss Trinket hurried ahead to unlock the band office door. He didn’t look back at her as she stood there, hand still gripping her backpack, and somehow, that felt worse than his pity. 

Katniss, I’m so sorry about your dad. It’s so not fair. How are you doing? 

Katniss? 

Katniss? 

Are you there, Katniss? Hey, how are you doing?

[renaxwrites]

Eleven

.03  -  Where Do Broken Hearts Go

synopsis: the number Eleven had always appeared in milestones of your life. it was a constant, and you didn’t know why. but you would soon find out when you study abroad in japan and meet Him.

pairing: tsukishima kei x fem!reader

warnings: none!

masterlist: here :)

a/n: we finally get to meet the babies!! I hope you guys enjoy <3

     previous || next

Now I'm searching every lonely place. Every corner calling out your name.

Sunlight streams through the curtains and beams on your eyelids. You squint your eyes open and take in your surroundings.

It seems surreal that you’re now in your mother’s home country. Without her. Without him.

Your hand wanders to your silver heart-shaped locket, your now most prized possession.

It was the first gift your parents gave you, on their official wedding day. And now it’s the first and last thing you look at every day. Just peering at their faces inside is enough to keep you grounded at this point.

But that doesn’t change the fact that you felt lost without them.

You look at their faces once again. It was their marriage photo, with tiny you beaming in between them. The happiness you three had shared now radiated from the locket to your veins, bringing you out of your sorrow mood. They would want you to have a great first day. They would say how brave you were for overcoming your fears, for being brave in a whole new place.

And that was enough.

Feeling the tightness in your joints, you trudge out of bed and begin your daily stretch routine. You set your alarm a bit earlier than needed, so now there’s a bit more bounce in your step this morning. You even made sure your new uniform was nice and crisp, compared to your old “just throw it on as it is” habit. New country, new you, right? Ah, the first-day-of-school jitters. That’ll do it.

Just as you finish getting dressed, Mizuki lightly knocks on your door. “Mind if I come in?”

“Of course.”

She pokes her head in the door, watching you struggle to get your ribbon in the front.

Padding over, she begins to help adjust it for you. “It’s going to be a little warm today, so it’s a good thing you woke up a little earlier. Kei usually walks to school since it’s not far from here. I figured it would be best to leave pretty soon so your uniform doesn’t get you all sweaty. I knew that would bug me so I figured it’d be nice to give you a head’s up.” She closes her eyes and smiles.

“Thank you, I appreciate it. I’ll take a hair tie just in case. And you’re right, there’s nothing worse than sweat stains,” you giggle.

She chuckles. “No worries. Just looking out for you on your first day! I’m so excited for you! I made a little lunch for you. I’m not sure what you’re used to eating for lunch, so I just made a bento box for you. There’s a smaller one with some breakfast for you to eat on your walk...I hope you don’t mind!”

Your heart warms. You haven’t had something done for you like that since…

Bowing deeply, you show appreciation for the simple gesture. “Thank you very much. I’m sure it will be wonderful. Thank you.”

She bows back and begins to gather her things to leave. “It’s no problem really. I’ll have Kei walk with you to school so you can familiarize your way. Now, I have to leave for work now, but I’m positive you’ll have a great first day. Call me if you need anything, okay!” You nod and wave as she says her goodbyes out the door.

The second she leaves, there’s an eerie vibe that settles over. Ever so slowly, you turn, only to find Tsukishima standing there staring.  

“Sorry to interrupt your bonding. Shall we leave now? Don’t really feel like having a slowpoke make me late.”

That statement alone was enough to cause you to scramble around like a madman to collect your things. The last thing you needed was to tick him off and leave you stranded.

A couple minutes later, you dash out the door and see Tsukishima leaning on the streetlight.

“Finally. Let’s go.”

Needless to say, the walk to school was silent and awkward, so you breathe a tiny sigh of relief when you see the school front a few minutes later. The mass of people suddenly made you nervous, but you weren’t about to let Tsukishima see that.

“I can take it from here, thanks. Hopefully I’ll see you later!” you offer a smile to him.

He just hums and turns to go off somewhere.

Probably as good as it’s gonna get right now.

You turn towards the front door, take a deep breath, and march through the doors. After stopping several times to ask for directions, you navigate your way into the staff office. The vice principal was at the front, seeming to get the paperwork ready for your arrival.

Shyly, you greet him. “Hello, my name is (y/l/n/) (y/n). I’m the new student from the US…”

He looks up and greets you with a welcoming smile. “Hello! Welcome to Karasuno High School! I am the vice principal, as you probably know by now. Please, have a seat, and we’ll get started. Hopefully this won’t take long so you can go explore the campus and get your classes all squared away.”

It actually didn’t take too long, thank goodness. Just a few pages of filling out names, several “sign here”s and “sign there”s, and you were all good to go.

The vice principal announces, “And there you have it! You’re officially enrolled! Now, go right next door to the secretary to get your schedule, and there should be a guide for you to show you around. Once again, welcome!”

You bow and thank one another, leaving you to get your schedule.

You peek your head into the door, where the secretary warmly greets you and hand you a paper with all your classes.  A minute later, a short, orange-haired boy walks in, looking a bit bummed about something. The second he sees you, he forgets his troubles and beams.

“Hey there! You’re the new student I’m supposed to show around right?”

You smile and nod. “Hi. (y/l/n) (y/n). Nice to meet you.”

He blushes slightly, then starts bouncing lightly on his feet. “I’m Hinata Shoyo! Nice to meet you too! You seem really nice. Let’s look at your class so I can see where to take you.”

You both peer over your paper, and he lets out a dramatic gasp.

“Ohhhhh, you’re in class 5! I know someone in that class! She tutors me sometimes, so that means you’re really smart! Okay, that’s near the end of the hall, so I’ll show you around campus since it’s kind of empty right now. Seems easier, I think. Alright, let’s goooo!” he was practically bouncing out the door, clearly excited to show the ways of Karasuno to you.

The two of you explore campus, with Hinata giving you tips on how to, essentially, survive the school. The small talk between you two was fun, and you were playfully getting to know each other. For instance, the reason he looked upset earlier was because he got in trouble with his teacher, and was forced to ‘show the new student around’. “Not that this isn’t fun or anything! I’m glad I came, ‘cause I got to meet you!” he frantically assured you after that confession.

The majority of the journey around school was just basic setting, but there was one place in particular that seemed to fire the hyper boy up.

“OHHHHH! Guess what!! This is my favorite place ever! If you ever needed to find me, I’m most likely in here!” Hinata jumps up and peeks into the window, admiring the woods floors and court inside.

Curious, you examine the gym. “Oh? A gym? So you’re in a sport then?”

Hinata drops from the window and begins to frisk about. “I’m in the Boy’s Volleyball Club! My main position is the middle blocker, but I’m what you call the ‘best decoy ever’! You should come watch my spike sometime! I go like this, then I go like this,” he starts making large movements with his arms, trying to get you to visualize what he does.

You stare at him in awe. “Volleyball, huh? Sounds like you’re passionate about it.”

He calms down and nods. “I’m going to be the best there is. One day I’m going to be the ace. But right now, I’m working harder than anyone else. One day I will…” Hinata zones out for a second, then shakes his head. “What about you? Did you ever play any sports over in America?”

You thoughtfully shake your head. “No, but I was the sports photographer at my school. I was one of the top editors on our journalism team. That’s as close as I can get to sports anyway,” you blush.

Hinata doesn’t miss a beat. He seemed really fascinated with the sports photography idea, and is soon practically begging you to share pictures you’ve taken. It wouldn’t take much convincing though, who can say no to such a sweet face like that?

The two of you get lost in your photos, going over different sports you’ve shot. Some were unfamiliar to him, (“What’s football?” he tilted his head, both confused and interested.) but he practically jumped to the moon when he saw a few volleyball pictures in your camera roll.

“Come to my practice after school today! PLEASE!! I’ll be the best player to take pictures of! You can see me spike from the right, then watch me do a quick…” he rambles on and starts to throw volleyball lingo at you that you didn’t understand. You place your hands on his shoulders, letting him know that you would swing by.  

Later, the two of you head to your class, not too far from his, class 1. You thank Hinata for the tour and go your separate ways.

The rest of the day goes by pretty smoothly, and you even made a new friend! Her name is Yachi Hitoka, and she happened to be one of the managers for the boys volleyball team Hinata was on. And she definitely was excited to hear that you were stopping by at practice later on. You started to actually feel a little excited to be involved, and on your first day! You couldn’t wait.

                                     ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Once school was officially out of session, you make your way over to the gym Hinata showed you. The closer you got, the more nervous you became. But for what reason? You weren’t too sure, but you felt that something interesting was going to happen.

You arrived a little early, so you decided to kill some time and get a snack from the machines. Maybe even squeeze in a light power nap, too. You still weren’t over that jet lag.

You close your eyes, expecting to wake up with a jolt from the nightmares.

But there was nothing.

Not too long later, you wake up from the light snooze and check the time.

Four Eleven. Huh. There that number is again. Figures.

You gather your things, throw your trash, and walk into the gym.

There are lots of boys warming up on the court, tossing and spiking balls from every direction around the net. Suddenly, you’re tackled with a high-pitched squeal and bear hug. Yachi was the culprit, who began to gush about you to another pretty girl. You discover her name is Kiyoko Shimizu, who is also a team manager. She gently smiles at you, and the three of you begin to discuss the purpose of you making an appearance at today’s practice.

The sound of girl commotion was enough to slowly distract the team, and at some point they all started to huddle around the three of you. Upon realizing there was a new girl, Hinata screams, “(y/l/n)-saaaaan!! You made it!” That statement caused all the boys to pinpoint their focus on you.

You felt yourself blush, and turn from the comfort of the girls to face the unfamiliar boys examining you.

A tall, dark-haired boy walks up to greet you. “I’m Daichi, the team captain. Nice to meet you. What brings you to our practice today?”

You bow lightly and manage to say, “I-I’m (y/l/n) (y/n)! Hinata invited me here. I do photography, mostly sports, so he thought it would be a good idea for me to check your team out, maybe take some photos. If that’s alright with you.”

Several boys let out an “ohhhh” in realization, and you even hear a few checking out your features. Two boys, one short with black hair with a blonde streak, one taller and short-haired, share a high five and the fact that there’s another girl most likely joining. One even lets out a quiet “she’s cute”. It was clearly an accident, as you turn to find a green-haired and freckled boy who turned a deep shade of red when you made unintentional eye contact.  

A grey-haired 3rd year approaches you. “That’s awesome! You’re definitely welcome to stay. I’m Sugawara Koshi, vice-captain. Let me know if you need anything, ‘kay?” he states with a huge grin on his face. You began to feel welcome.

Until you hear, “Oh. It’s you.”

What the hell?

You turn to see the one and only Tsukishima towering over you. But that didn’t shock you.

His jersey number did.

Eleven.

Tryna find you but I just don't know. Where do broken hearts go?

taglist: @jiminslonglostjams @fantasymirror @shewastheriot 

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Crucible (part 11; epilogue)

[UK Tour; Carrie AU]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

It’s finally done!!!!!!!!!!!

Word count: 11,867

TW: Survivor guilt, victim blaming

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

Epilogue

  “Do you ever see something you can’t explain? I’m not talking about some strange lights in the sky or Jesus’s face on a tortilla. I’m talking about something that’s not supposed to happen. Like in reality.”

Mulaney tilted his head at the retired coach across the table from him. She was dressed maturely and her hair was neatly combed, leaving no evidence of any trauma retained from the massacre she lived through. Her eyes were calculating and narrowed like a defensive lioness’ as she studied the detective and then his partner for the third time during that interview. She was as sharp-tongued as Katherine Howard before she was switched to a different investigator.

  “Like a miracle?” Mulaney asked.

Catalina de Aragon shook her head. “Something else.” She said. She fell silent for a moment, gears in her head visibly turning, then spoke up again, “Do you think you can’t explain what happened on prom night is because what happened wasn’t natural?”

Mulaney raised his eyebrows, which seemed to offend Catalina. She leaned forward against the table and set her jaw.

  “Two weeks ago, I saw a steel desk move across the floor without anyone touching it.” She told him. “Five inches. I measured. Joan Seymour was in the room when it happened.”

  “Two hundred and thirty-four people died, and you’re trying to sell me on some Weekly World News headlines?” Mulaney said.

Anger flashed in Catalina’s eyes and, for a moment, she looked like she wanted to leap across the table and jam her thumbs into Mulaney’s eyes.

  “I don’t need you to tell me how many people died,” She growled. “Half of them were kids I saw every day.”

  “I am truly sorry for your loss, Miss Aragon. I am.” Mulaney said. “But--what exactly are you implying here?”

  “I’m not implying anything. I’m just giving you the facts. I might as well tell you it was poltergeists.”

  “But you don’t believe that?”

  “No.”

  “You think it was Joan Seymour?”

  “Yes. I do.”

Mulaney studied her, looking her up and down, but the ex-coach didn’t appear to be lying. She believed what she said, despite how absurd it was.

  “What exactly did you see on prom night?” He asked.

  “I was hanging from an air vent pissing my pants, trying not to get electrocuted.” Catalina spat bluntly. “I didn’t see anything.”

------

HERE LIES

JANE R. SEYMOUR

1972-2020

JOHANNA M. SEYMOUR

2005-2020

MAY GOD SAVE THEIR WICKED SOULS

------

Aragon saw Katherine Howard on the way out of the police department. They were both leaving their interrogations at the same time and stopped like deer in headlights to gawk at each other for a long moment. Then, Katherine ducked her head, almost in an apologetic, truce-like gesture and walked to her car.

It was always strange to see students outside of school, but it was even stranger now that Aragon had quit.

Holbein understood when Aragon emailed him saying she was going to resign, although she doesn’t think it was entirely for the reasons he assumed. The decision wasn’t so much for her own mental health, even though it has taken quite a beating since the Black Prom, but more on the “this is what’s right” and “I can’t go on in this profession” aspect.

Hundreds of children died under her watch. She was only able to get out thirteen. She felt like she failed as a teacher.

Most of them deserved to die, she knew they did, but the fact that so many lives were lost with her there acting as their chaperone, guardian, protector ate away at her mind. 

She would rather kill herself than ever teach again.

Aragon walked to her car and just sat in the driver’s seat, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, for several minutes. She looked up at the sky, which was grey and rumbling like a fire breathing dragon. It would rain soon. Even Mother Nature herself was trying to wash away the tragedy.

Aragon still remembered the first time she saw Joan Seymour. 

At the beginning of the year, two years ago, it had just been another name among many on her class rosters. Several of her teacher friends told her good luck when she told them about how she got the “strange little religious girl” in her class, and she thought she really needed it. At the time, she hadn’t actually ever met Joan or even seen her for that matter, but from the rumors she heard, the girl brought trouble wherever she went. She thought that year was going to be a hellfest of religious warbling and being told she was a sinner. And then the first day came and she was calling attendance, and heard the tiniest voice say “here” when she came to the final name on the list.

Joan Seymour was like a starved lamb in a pack of wolves- prey that was being left around to be messed with by her peers. She was everything Aragon wasn’t expecting and so much more. She could see so much light in her, beneath all the walls she had put up around herself, so much room to be loved.

Aragon wondered what happened to that light.

She remembered when the maternal instincts hidden inside of her first flared up. It was November of her first year with Joan Seymour. The gym class was a mix between all grade levels, with Year 10’s like Joan and Year 12’s like Anne Boleyn and Year 11’s like Bessie Blount, and--

And there was a scream.

Now, Catalina de Aragon had heard screaming before. In Year 13 of high school, she vividly remembers watching a school rugby game and one of the players from the other team, she believed they were the Pumas if her memory was correct, broke his arm so savagely it almost looked like it was on backwards. He had dropped to the ground in a blur of black and maroon, bellowing in agony, and at the time Aragon had thought that it was the worst sound she would ever hear in her entire life.

And then she heard the ricochet of a cry rattle from the girl’s locker room, so loud that she could hear it from outside in the gym, and the first place spot for “Worst Noise She’s Ever Heard” was quickly snatched away from the football player.

He had screamed. But not like this.

This scream was piercing, bloodcurdling, and memory-haunting, and it only got worse when Aragon charged into the locker room, leaving a gaggle of wide-eyed students already dressed out behind in startled shock. 

Opening the door and passing through the doorway was like coming out of water in the midst of a war- the scream suddenly became ten times louder and much more ear-splitting. She actually had to clamp her hands over her ears and stop her forward stride to shudder in pain at the intensity of the noise that made her feel like she was going deaf. What could very possibly be 140 to 150 decibels of volume jammed its way directly into her eardrums, stabbing over and over and over again until a ringing was sent jangling through her skull like the aftermath of an explosion.

To be in the same room as such an outburst of agony, so close to the cause of deafening distress, was so much more bone-chilling than listening to it from stadium bleachers.

Aragon staggered forward, pulling her hands away from her ears and crossing the corridor threshold into the open space of lockers. There, her current class was huddled in a group of abstract horror around one row, eyes so wide they were nearly popping out of sockets and shaking in abject pant-pissing fear. Aragon wasn’t quite sure who looked more terrified: them, Caroline Casey holding a can of pepper spray, or Joan Seymour frenzying around with her hands over her face, screeching.

  “WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?” Aragon roared over the commotion, and everyone except Joan whirled around to face her with ogling bug eyes. They apparently hadn’t heard her come in over the noise. Joan keened again, a loud, drawn-out sound like the cry of a crow being gutted alive.

  “Sh-she--” One girl tried to say, but the words got stuck in her throat when she glanced back at Joan writhing, slamming into the lockers, and scratching desperately at her face.

  “WHAT HAPPENED?” Aragon demanded.

  “I--got startled.” Caroline choked out.

  “Is that PEPPER SPRAY?!” Aragon shouted.

Caroline looked down at the canister in her hand as if it were an active bomb and suddenly appeared very sick. She doesn’t answer- she can’t. She’s shocked into silence.

  “WHY do you even HAVE IT at SCHOOL?!” Aragon bellowed. Her eyes are wide now, too, as she put the pieces together.

  “I’m sorry!” Helen said.

Joan wailed tumultuously. She dropped to the ground, screaming helplessly at the ceiling and squirming like she was trying to wriggle out of her own skin. Her hands are still fervently clawing at her eyes as if she were trying to scoop them out of their sockets, and there’s spots of red mixed in with the translucent sheen of pepper spray spattered across her pale face. Aragon quickly pushed Caroline aside, practically throwing the other girls out of the way to get to the panicking student rolling on the floor.

  “Joan! Joan!” Aragon called over the screaming. Joan doesn’t appear to hear her- she just continued to caterwaul and claw like a burning black cat. “Johanna Seymour!” Not even that got through to her, and if it did, it only made her even more distressed. “Joan!!”

Aragon finally grabbed the girl by the wrists and yanked her hands away. Without the spindly fingers itching incessantly, she could see her reddened face, gashed skin, and eyes filled with blood.

  “Oh my god,” Someone from behind, Susanne Young, maybe, muttered.

  “IT HURTS!!” Joan’s screams have finally morphed into words, and Aragon isn’t sure which was worse because the screams may have been nightmare-inducing, but the words were like a punch to the stomach with a spiked iron gauntlet. They come out hoarse and high pitched, vowels stretched out in whines and keens of pain, and Aragon’s heart clenched tightly in her chest when they reach her ears. “IT HURTS!! IT BURNS!!!!”

Joan writhed beneath Aragon, flailing her arms in the grip that holds them. Her moon silver eyes are upturned in their puckered sockets, saturating in blood, and the whites weren’t even white anymore, rather an awful crimson color with throbbing scarlet veins lacing through them like smoldering snakes. The shredded, bloody eyelids soon slam shut and remain shut, swelling so badly that Joan was temporarily blinded, and that makes her panic even harder.

  “It burns! It burns! IT BURNS!!!” Joan screeched. Her voice became garbled after her final cry and she dissolved into body-breaking coughs that manage to rock Aragon’s own frame from where she’s crouched over her.

  “What do we do?!” Another girl, Silvia Lewis, yawped. She flinched backwards in fright into the arm-locked duo of Katy Yu and Eliza Carroll when Aragon whipped her head around to her, dark brown eyes flashing like jagged ebony stalactites in flickering firelight.

  “NOW you care?” Aragon snarled, loading her voice with as much venom as possible. “Now you care about her? When she’s been fucking pepper sprayed?”

All the girls flinch this time. It’s obvious that they’ve never been cussed at by a teacher before, and it gives Aragon just a tiny swell of pleasure. But then Joan sobbed audibly again and it’s replaced with seething rage.

  “It- it was an accident!” Amy Harding tried to defend. “R-really! Caroline didn’t know!”

  “Oh really?” Aragon said. “I’m sure spraying a kid with fucking pepper spray, which shouldn’t even be brought to school, by the way, is really easy to do om accident!” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Anne Boleyn clench her jaw and she rounded on her. “Do you have something you want to say, Boleyn?”

Anne opened her mouth as if to snark, took one look at Joan’s bloody, burned face, and realized this was not something her father could fix with his lawyer status. Even if she told him that Joan had snapped at her, he would have to agree that being pepper sprayed for it was much, much worse. She grit her teeth and looked away.

  “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts,” Joan wept. Aragon looked back down at her and felt a sharp stab of guilt when she realized how much time she had wasted scolding the other girls when she should have been treating Joan.

  “It’s okay, Joan,” She told her softly, smoothing down the barbs and thorns in her voice until it’s more like warm honey or silken velvet. “It’s okay… You’re going to be okay.”

Joan’s lolling head froze in its process of sweeping back and forth across the scuffed locker room tile. Her brow twitched and her eyelids flutter like she was trying to open them but can’t, and only bloody tears are able to squeeze their way out of the scrunched up sockets. She ‘looked’ in the direction of Aragon’s voice, lips quivering.

  “M-Miss Aragon?” She whispered hoarsely.

  “Yes, it’s me, Joan. It’s just me.” Aragon moved to hold both wrists in one hand and used the other to brush Joan’s cheek tenderly--which was instantly the wrong thing to do because she grazed over a spatter of pepper spray and tiny burning teeth latched onto her fingers and began eating away at her flesh. She bit back a hiss of discomfort to avoid stressing out Joan even more. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

  “It hurts,” Joan sobbed. Her eyes screwed shut even tighter, like she thought that it may help block out the pain. “I-it hurts, Miss Aragon. M-make it stop!”

  “I will, Joan, don’t worry,” Aragon assured her. “Just take deep breaths for me. Can you do that? Deep breaths, sweetheart.” She swiveled her head around to the group of quavering onlookers. Caroline backed up behind Lidia Peterson and Penny Spencer when her glaring eyes skim by, still white-knuckling the canister of pepper spray. “Bessie.”

Bessie Blount jolted, but raised her head in an obedient, listening way.

  “Make yourself useful and get a bottle of water and a rag from the showers. Wet it.” Aragon ordered.

Bessie nodded, but didn’t dare speak up. She scurried off, clipping her shoulder on one of the lockers and tottering sideways for a moment before regaining her balance and continuing with her task. Aragon can hear her tinker with the padlock of her locker in another row, open the door, pull something out, and then hurry into the bathroom area without fully closing the door. She stopped listening after hearing the running water of a sink to glower at the rest of the girls.

  “Get to class.” She said coldly.

The girls exchanged glances. They seem surprised that they hadn’t been struck dead or something (although Aragon really, REALLY wanted to do so). Then, they disperse without another warning, with Caroline hightailing it out the door first. Bessie returned shortly after with a folded, pulpy paper towel that drips water on the floor and a water bottle. She looked down at Joan as she passed them over and Aragon saw that she was genuinely concerned.

  “Is she...going to be okay?” She asked.

Aragon was conflicted- she wanted to say yes to make them all feel better, but she really didn’t know. Joan had rubbed her eyes viciously enough to smear the pepper spray further into her sockets and the open cuts she carved into her skin was probably exposed to any lingering residue, too, which would only deepen her anguish. But she didn’t want to say no either because that would just induce panic, so instead she just said, “I’ll take care of her.”

Bessie seemed to catch her avoidance of the question by the pinch at her brow and frown on her lips, but she just nodded instead of pointing it out, much to Aragon’s relief.

  “Okay,” She said. She cast one more glance at Joan, who appeared to be trying to figure out where she was, then turned around, gathered her belongings, and walked out.

  “Okay, Joan,” Aragon looked down at her student. “I’m going to pour some water over your eyes, okay? Just keep breathing for me. You’re doing so good.”

Joan whimpered. She jolted when the contents of the water bottle were poured over her face, crying out in shock and pain, and a light bulb overhead shattered in millions of burgeoning pieces. Aragon jumped and looked up at it, then back down at Joan, who was now panting and wheezing heavily.

  “H-hurts to b-b--reathe,” She uttered.

  “Oh, Joan…” Aragon murmured. She carefully wiped away the pepper spray residue on Joan’s face with the paper towel, finding that the girl’s skin was suddenly very cold. Her breathing wasn’t normal anymore. She can feel her heartbeat thump heavily beneath her flesh; it’s too fast for even someone in the midst of a panic attack. 

Something was sizzling in Joan Seymour’s skin, and it wasn’t just the pepper spray.

There’s a clamor from the front of the locker room- Aragon’s next period class started to bustle inside to change out before their minimal time limit was up. Aragon jumped up, causing Joan to whimper in distress at the loss of her presence, and stormed to the entrance corridor. The girls inside stopped, easily picking up that she was on edge, and took a small step back in near-perfect synchronization.

  “You don’t have to change out today.” Aragon said hurriedly. “Or do anything. Just sit in the gym and do whatever. As long as you don’t kill each other or set something on fire, I really don’t care what you do.”

The girls blink and exchange looks.

  “Everything okay?” One asked.

  “Fine.” Aragon said, squaring her shoulders and straightening her back. Her posture nearly faltered and crumbled when she heard Joan whimper again. “Go on. Out!”

The girls obeyed, quickly exiting in a flurry of binders and backpacks. Once they’re all gone, Aragon hurried back to Joan, who was trying to get up. She yelped and flinched so badly she knocked herself back over when Aragon touched her shoulder, and another light in the first aisle of lockers popped and fizzed out.

  “It’s just me, Joan.” Aragon said. “It’s Miss Aragon.”

  “Miss Aragon,” Joan repeated to herself in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

  “That’s right,” Aragon nodded, although she knew Joan couldn’t see it. “Joan, I’m going to help you stand up and we’re going to walk over to the showers, okay? The water bottle isn’t working as well as I had hoped. Running water will help flush out your eyes better.” She gently touched Joan’s face and she ‘looked’ up at her. “It’ll make it hurt less.”

Joan nodded. She grit her teeth as she’s helped to her feet, staggering, but staying upright. A jewel of blood welled up from a scratch dividing her left eyebrow in two and lazily made its way down her face. She twitched when it tickled her skin and she reached up to swipe it away, but Aragon snatched her hand before she could make contact. Joan jumped and instantly tried to jerk away.

  “Don’t touch your face.” Aragon scolded lightly. “It’ll only make the burning worse.”

Joan swallowed thickly, but didn’t say anything. She just nodded silently and obeyed.

The short walk to the bathroom and shower area was much clumsier than it should have been, with Joan stumbling over her ankles and hitting every outcrop of lockers, even with Aragon guiding her. Lack of sight was numbing her senses and making it hard to listen. Aragon didn’t ever get mad at her, though; blindness, even temporary blindness, would make her a complete nervous, bumbling wreck, too.

  “M-Miss Aragon?” Joan croaked as Aragon cranked the nozzle to a middle-row shower. She turned her head in the direction of the sound of spraying water.

  “Yes?” Aragon gently touched her shoulder to let her know she was there. “I’m right here, honey.”

  “I’m sorry,” Joan whispered.

Aragon’s heart sunk into her stomach. Oh, Joan, please please don’t--

  “I-I didn’t mean to.”

A wave of guilt slammed into Aragon, alongside a rumbling riptide of pure rage that roiled through her insides like a storm at sea. She clenched her teeth until she thought they may shatter and wished that she had exacted punishment on all those girls, especially Caroline, instead of sending them to their next class to deal with them later.

  “I’m sorry,” Joan said again, this time much more choked up. Her skin was frigid cold. “M-Miss Aragon?” She reached up a blind hand and lightly touched Aragon’s, which she must have forgotten was on her shoulder. She grabbed it in a way that sent shockwaves of desperation up Aragon’s arm. “I’m sorry…”

  “Don’t apologize, Joan.” Aragon said firmly. “This wasn’t your fault.”

  “Okay,” Joan said, but Aragon knew she didn’t believe it. She lowered her voice and rasped out, “It really, really hurts…”

  “Come on,” Aragon lowered Joan to her knees and tilted her into the warm rain of water shooting from the showerhead. She lifted her chin so the spray would directly hit her face. “There we go... Good girl.”

Joan took a deep breath, spitting out water. Streams ran red when they touched her numerous cuts and the blood oozing from her tightly shut eyes turned into puffing clouds of crimson along her cheeks, but at least everything was getting flushed out. 

Aragon risked getting wet when she reached over and began to rub soothing circles against Joan’s back. She swore the girl arched her spine into her touch, exhaling a soft sigh of relief--or maybe contentment. She wasn’t quite sure, but at least it wasn’t a sad or angry sigh, although Joan had every reason to be sad and/or angry.

  “It felt like a hot knife.”

Joan’s rough, husky voice jarred Aragon out of her thoughts. Silence had descended upon the two of them for about five minutes, the only sound being the hiss of the overhead faucet and the low creak of pipes. Aragon blinked a haze of black spots out of her vision; her hand was still on Joan’s back, no longer rubbing, but the fingers were still grazing up and down tenderly, with the thumb gliding in soothing strokes.

  “Or a fire poker. Like the ones you use for fireplaces.” 

  “What?” Aragon said.

Joan craned her neck to look at her, and her eyes were open. They were reddish-blue-silver jewels in a nest full of restless red snakes. Trails of water cascading over her face cause the dozens of cuts around the sockets to glow in hues of neon pink and burning scarlet. She tilted her head at Aragon.

  “When I got sprayed,” She specified. “And you know what I thought when it happened?”

  “What?” Aragon said again, this time with dread pooled in the pit of her stomach like a dark oil spill.

  “‘Thank God,’” Joan said. A small, weak smile twitched at the corner of her lips and she looked down at her hands, where bits of her flesh still clung beneath her nails. “I wasn’t angry. Or upset. It did hurt, though. Really badly. But after everything--after everything I’ve been through--” Her arms dropped limply to her sides and she turned her head back to Aragon. “It felt good to not have to see.”

Aragon was silent. Her breath is caught in her throat in horror.

How could a child think like that? How could they be treated so poorly that they have to think like that?

  “I’ve never been blinded before,” Joan went on, musing her words like she didn’t realize how traumatic they were. She lifted a hand and gently touched one eye, as if she were reminding herself that it was still there. “It was--scary. Really scary. I’m--used to darkness, but--that was different. It wasn’t black, but really, really bright. So bright my head started to hurt--still hurts--and there were these flashes of color and it all mixed together into this big mess. But still-” She shifted on her knees, sloshing water around her. “I thought that not seeing anymore would make things better. Somehow. Maybe then I would be pathetic enough for people to leave me alone.” Her eyes gleam; Joan is crying. “But it wouldn’t end up being like that, would it? I’m never granted such mercy.” She flicked the water around her bitterly, then had to scrunch her eyes shut again when the pain registered again.

  “Were you--” Joan cocked her head in the direction of Aragon’s head to let her know that she was listening. Aragon’s hand on her back clenched a fistful of soggy pale yellow sweater. “Are you happy?”

  “Now?”

  “Ever.”

Joan ‘looked’ up at the ceiling like she was deep in thought, and Aragon already had her answer.

Fury bubbled in Aragon’s stomach, while pity and grief squeezed her heart to the point of nearly bursting apart. It wasn’t fair. It was so unfair for a child to have to live like this.

Joan had tipped her head down and apparently stopped thinking by the time Aragon was finished stewing in anger and conflict. And that’s when Aragon realized that Joan didn’t look even a little angry or conflicted. Or upset or sorrowful or anguished or vengeful.

She just looked tired.

Not just tried, though- Jaded.

  “How are your eyes?” Aragon asked.

Joan gently touched one. “They still burn. Badly. But not as bad as before.”

  “Yeah, they’re probably going to hurt for awhile.” Aragon frowned. She cupped Joan’s cheeks, which felt so hollow and sunken beneath her fingers, and she cradled her head. “Can you open your eyes, honey? So I can see them?”

Joan struggled, but managed to pry open her eyelids and keep them open for Aragon to inspect. They were bloodshot and definitely looked like they were hurting, but at least they weren’t bleeding anymore. Aragon gently stroked her thumb across her cheekbone.

  “Maybe I’m not happy,” Joan blurted.

The memory cut out abruptly, any other voices of remnant fading away, and Aragon finally accepted that Joan was right. She wasn’t happy, and Aragon began to worry if she ever really was in her entire life.

Aragon leaned back in her seat and rubbed the heels of her palms against her eyes. She sniffled, but willed herself not to cry. She just--

She tried so hard to help that poor child. She didn’t want to believe that Joan was really as broken as she seemed, that she still had a chance of recovering, but she finally came to terms that not everyone can be saved. Joan was too far gone for Aragon to pull her out of the blackhole she was stuck in. But maybe if she had just tried a little harder, if she checked on her more often, if she did something sooner-- Maybe things wouldn’t be the way they were now.

Maybe Joan would still be here.

But it didn’t matter anymore. Joan, several of her teacher friends, and hundreds of her students were dead, and nothing was going to bring them back.

Aragon sighed and finally buckled her seatbelt and got to driving. She had to get to her house to start packing. She was going back home to Spain, to her family, and find a job there. Perhaps the memories of the Black Prom will be less crushing when she was so far away from the site of the massacre, but she doubted it. Trauma never died.

------

Water.

Water was what the air in and around this part of the city smelled like the most.

It was in the deep, earthen musk of the damp soil that lay beneath the lush, dew-soaked grass.

It was in the marshy fumes, sometimes sulfurous, sometimes sickly-sweet, of the patches of hidden swamp that lay in wait for unsuspecting feet.

It was in the carpets of fallen leaves that hid hollows between the tree roots, where pools could collect and play host to all things that crawled or squirmed through the wet.

It was in the very forest itself, coating wet leaves and bleeding from the dark, pulpy wood of the gnarled, old trees.

There was nothing dry about this place.

Fog, ghostly-grey and creeping on silent feet, drifted in low wisps over the crumbled and cold earth, painting the normally-stark outlines of the trees so pale that they faded into the sky rather than stood boldly against it. The mist had dissipated somewhat since anyone had last passed through this particular stretch of rarely-visited meadow, but not by much. Hours, though, or perhaps a day before, it had been as oppressive and thick as cold clam chowder.

Now it was slowly thinning out, listlessly lacking the eerie, almost lifelike malevolence with which it had pressed in upon the very soul before. There was a certain…uncertainty about the way it was hovering now, no longer pouring into every little hollow and alcove like milk over cereal. It was just there.

There, in a sort of in-between way. Lingering.

All was still, and--save for the rhythmic pitter-patter of falling rain--all was silent as well.

Except for herself, of course.

It was movement in the stillness that preceded the first disruption of the tranquility of the forest; the silk-thin web of drifting mist that hung in the air like lace slowly began to slide forward, rolling away from her feet like a translucent white carpet, perhaps in front of some ghostly noble attending an afterlife celebration in their name. Right from the Black Prom, her movement through this strange, still world, which her life had become, had felt alien and out of place, but it had never felt that way more than right now.

With each footstep, a narrow patch of soggy grass pressed down and sent a miniature pool of moisture bubbling up around the edges of her boots and in through invisible gaps in the leather, oozing into her already-saturated socks and settling in icy little pools in the dips where her toes went, setting the blisters on the skin alight with fresh pain. If her feet hadn’t already been numb from the wet and cold, she might have cared more. But everything from her toes to her feet and the soaked leather that clung stiffly to them was in no shape to feel anything but the dull warning sting of oncoming pins and needles.

Besides, Bessie had other things on her mind right now.

Like how it was said that the school was being shut down for an undetermined amount of time to repair what had been charred.

Like how she heard that Miss Aragon had quit and wouldn’t be teaching ever again.

Like how lifting her feet from the indents they made in the muddy undergrowth kept on getting harder and harder to do. Her legs felt heavier with each step and the little grassy pools made squelchy noises of protest, sucking hungrily at her feet each time they left the earth. Behind her in the grass, there was a long trail of tiny shoe-shaped lakes, like murky little grey-green cousins of the ones she would see when she would take trips out to the bay.

Like what had happened just three weeks before.

There was a clank-CLONK and a gentle patter as droplets of condensation came raining down from where they’d collected on the bars of the cemetery gate. There was no real latch, so she just pushed it open. There had been one once, but it had rusted away under the perpetual wet.

…Or maybe it hadn’t.

The gate’s movement ground to a halt after a mere few inches, hindered by tufts of almost-oily grass which had been allowed to grow out of control around the edges of the compound for what had probably been years. They snagged on the metal almost as though they were alive, gripping its frame with the sort of desperation one normally only saw from a particularly needy child clinging to its mother’s arm while she was on her way to work.

A half-hearted hiss of frustration escaped her as the gate’s creaking cut off. She clenched sore and swollen fingers around the wet bars, feeling flakes of rust and ancient, now-colorless paint crumble away and stick to her fingertips, which the condensation in the air had turned pruny and pale pink, like anemic raisins. When further shoving only yielded that rubbery, elastic sound that wet wild grass sometimes got, she let out a puff of air and gave up for the moment, leaning in to rest her forehead against the cool metal as she slouched, peering through the bars at the army of tombstones lined up within. She was so close to relief and salvation and maybe even a little bit of closure, and a damn hunk of metal was standing in her way.

Bessie tried one more time, desperation straining through her pulls, but she gave up when the flowers in her hands were nearly crumpled in her attempt. She would have to go around through the front, much to her dismay.

Nothing was worse than visiting a cemetery on a rainy, gloomy day. That was why she had been trying to get in through a backdoor in the first place; she didn’t want to pound her abysmally low mental health further into the ground by being seen by people when she entered, even though it was a perfectly normal thing to do. A lot of people were going to the cemetery lately, anyway. But never had she thought she would be one of the mourners.

The gatekeeper looked almost suspicious when she shambled up to the wide gothic front gate, and she didn’t really blame him. She didn’t have an umbrella, she was whiteknuckling a handful of flowers like her life depended on it, and her shoes were covered in so much mud that it looked like she had just been dredged out of a mudslide. But, then again, most people who visit a cemetery in the rain must all take on such an appearance in some way, so he shook off the expression on his face and asked for the plot number of the grave being visited. Bessie told him, he checked to make sure she was telling the truth and not just trying to get in to grave rob or something, and then opened the gate. Bessie thanked him and stepped inside the cemetery.

And, like that, all the strength was drained out of her body. It was the same sensation she felt when she was crawling through the air vents to escape the school, a coagulated sense of shell-shock that was like having the flu. After the night of the Black Prom, small physical tasks that she would have normally have found easy took everything out of her, like how taking a simple step forward was right now.

Though it’s steadily getting better, or so she likes to tell herself, the ordeal has scarred her. In a close community like this, there’s no escaping it. The tragedy hit all of Oxford hard. A lot of the kids who died were well-liked in the city, it didn’t matter if they picked on some poor religious outcast. They still--died.

God...

Bessie will never survive it if she can’t find a way to put the Black Prom deaths in the past where they belong. It would be devastating if she sank any further into the pit this disaster has left behind. It’s not like she was embraced by the student body of Kingston High as much as Anne Boleyn or Katherine Howard in the first place, but she, like the other thirteen survivors (counting Miss Aragon) had gone from being someone who was just there like everyone else, living a day-to-day life to a full-blown pariah. Nobody said recovering from being one of just a few survivors of a large massacre would be easy, but at this point she’s just hoping that it’s even possible.

Strange, how she can live her entire life in one place and take it for granted just to have it turn on her so completely. The shops, the woods, the school, the park, her house, Main Street--these places that she grew up in haven’t changed on the outside, but now they all just feel so empty when they’re missing two hundred and thirty-four teenage bodies mulling around them.

The loss is visceral, as if something vital was ripped out of her body when they died and the wound was still fresh. If she’s feeling this way, it must be unimaginable for the families.

Bessie began to walk down the stone pavement that was clean of any weeds that may grow in between the rocks, leaving muddy footprints in her wake. There were only a few people in the cemetery, all with fitting black umbrellas, as if the dark color was a mandatory dress code for grave-visiting. Most of them didn’t look up at her as she passed by, but one glanced over and seemed to recognize her as one of the survivors of the Black Prom. The woman’s nose wrinkled and she snapped her head back down, blinking back a furious wave of tears.

Bessie had never thought she would be a survivor of a massacre, but she definitely never expected the contrasting reactions to such from other people. Most are sympathetic and are gentle with her, as if they may think the slightest thing would shatter her into pieces, while others are insanely curious and want to know everything they can, usually reigniting poorly put down trauma in the process. And then there’s those who just hated her guts. Because they were jealous. Jealous that she got out alive and not their son or daughter, sister or brother, best friend or boyfriend or girlfriend. They didn’t think it was fair, and it definitely wasn’t fair to Bessie to be treated this way. But, in a way, she felt the same way they felt, wondering why she of all people had to live and not somebody much more important.

Her knees felt weak by the time she almost reached her destination and she thought she may black out before she even got there, but then she noticed something that made her sober up instantly from her daze.

The Seymour tombstone.

It was upright, like most of the tombstones in the cemetery, stretched out to fit two names, and was a plain grey color. There was a black cross etched at the top and had no flowers surrounding the base, unlike all the other graves.

HERE LIES

JANE R. SEYMOUR

1972-2020

JOHANNA M. SEYMOUR

2005-2020

MAY GOD SAVE THEIR WICKED SOULS

That was what was written upon the granite. It seemed even the creator of the stone knew about the Seymour family’s damnation.

Someone was standing in front of the tombstone. Bessie blinked her eyes rapidly, as if she thought she were seeing a ghost, then slowly walked up beside the person.

A long silence descended upon the two of them, neither speaking or acknowledging the other’s presence. Glancing over, Bessie could see tassels of short reddish-brown-blonde hair around the black umbrella they were holding over their head at an angle.

  “Did you know her?” The stranger asked. Their voice, tinged with what Bessie believed was a Danish accent, cut through the mist and fog and rain, taking Bessie by surprise.

  “Yeah.” Bessie replied. “We went to school together.”

The stranger nodded slowly, not looking at Bessie. Their gaze was fixed on the tombstone with intense curiosity.

  “Did you?”

They shook their head. “Not personally. By word of mouth.” They said. “Kind of hard to not know Oxford’s resident psycho.” They chuckled harshly.

Bessie grimaced. A tidal wave of guilt came crashing down on her when Joan was referred to in such a way. It reminded her of all that she had done to the girl and all that she had said. And for what? Clout? Attention from the popular kids? An excuse not to hate herself because as long as she puts someone else down then she won’t be the most pathetic piece of garbage in the school? A reason to forget, even if it was just for a few hours at a time, that she was her mother’s unwanted aborted afterbirth gratuitously carved out of an abyss of awful red placenta, shaped into a human being with too bleached hair and too much of a passion to be accepted and too many feelings?

No reason could justify what she’s done.

What did it cost to be kind? 

  “Yeah,” Bessie muttered, and her tongue felt like it was made of lead. She had to get to her destination now.

But first--she snapped off one of the flowers in her bouquet and placed it on Joan Seymour’s side of the grave. Curious hazel eyes followed her momentarily as she staggered away.

She walked and walked, slower and slower as she got closer to her destination: she doesn’t want to be there alone, she doesn’t want to accept that it happened, and that there was no one waking her up and telling her that it’s all a nightmare. But she’s there and, for a moment, her breath gets caught in her throat, a bundle of emotions that are finally finding their strength to come up and be heard.

She doesn’t want to be there.

But then, finally, she was.

It was a kerbed headstone, upright with a bed of marble stretching out for flowers and other offerings to the dead, which was already loaded with various flowers and a few small trinkets. The tomb was ebony black and embedded with tiny flecks of silver quartz that looked like sparkling stars in a clear night sky. Carved out in gold lettering, the bearer of the tomb was written out:

IN LOVING MEMORY OF

ANNA VON CLEVES

SEPTEMBER 22, 2002

MAY 28th, 2020

A wonderful Daughter, Sister, and Friend

It was hard to divide up her grief, when Bessie had so many people to mourn--her peers, her teachers, her friends most of all, even Joan in a way. 

But losing Anna, though...most days, that was the worst of all.

  “Hey, Anna,” She said, and her voice broke almost instantly. The tears came fast, pricking like hot needles in her eyes and cascading down over her cheeks before she could even try to blink them away. “I brought you some things.”

She brandished the red flowers to the tombstone, as if Anna were actually perched on top of it, smiling at her and looking excited over the gift.

  “They’re gladioluses.” Bessie told the tomb. “They--they symbolize strength.” She swallowed thickly, biting back the lump welling up in her throat. “They reminded me of you.”

She tentatively set the flowers on the rim of the black marble bed. Her fingers fumbled together for a moment, then began pulling something else out.

  “I also brought you this,” She said. “I know--I know you always liked it. You would always touch it because it was soft when you would come over, so I--I thought you would want it.”

She set a tan dog stuffed animal with big floppy ears on the front of the marble bed. She realized her hands were shaking when she pulled her arms back and swallowed hard again.

  “I--” The words caught in her throat. She scratched at her neck with one finger, trying to muster up the will to speak. “I was thinking--about dyeing my hair red. In memory of you. I hope you don’t think that’s weird.” She paused, took a breath, then went on, forcing out a giggle alongside her sentence, “I’m probably gonna look really silly though.” And then, much quieter, wringing her hands together, “I wish you were here to do it with me.”

Silence fell upon the girl and the grave. The stuffed dog’s fur was starting to grow damp and dark from the drizzling mist. Bessie kept her eyes closed for a long moment, praying to a god she didn’t even really believe in. Her hands were clasped tight and she brought them to her stomach, imagining what it would be like to find absolution in a blade. She would plunge and drag and drag and drag until there was nothing left of her but shredded flesh and blood, but that would not be enough, not for her. It would not give her her friend back. It would not give her the shouts and the laughs and the boisterous cries at all hours of the morning and night. That was not what Anna would have done if it had been Bessie that had been stabbed and burned in that gym instead.

But she wasn't as strong as Anna.

Bessie didn’t really realize exactly how loud she was crying until her shaking breath hitched so high it sounded like a squeak. She blinked through the haze of tears and scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve, but the merciless flow did not stop. 

A little brown bird landed on a grave nearby and fluffed out its wet wings. A grazing deer on the other side of the tall black fence was munching contently on some wild flowers, not at all concerned about or aware of the grief going on just a few yards away. Some type of bug was buzzing in the grass somewhere from behind. The person at the Seymour tombstone finally turned and walked out of the cemetery.

Looking around at this all, Bessie was shocked by how the world kept running and running while hers had stopped its run not so long ago.

The summer leaves are dancing around her, whisked from the towering oak trees by the foggy gales and sent into a whirling axis in the sky. A humidly warm, but also bone-chillingly cold breeze was trying to offer a comfort that seemed to be invisible and impalpable. There can’t be comfort. There can’t be reassurance. The pain is still too loud, the wound is still too raw: her heart and her soul aren’t ready to accept that there was a reason for what has happened; her mind was still trying to distinguish between reality and fantasy, between the soothing effect of a false illusion and the harsh truth of a world deprived by its most beautiful voice.

  “Why?” She wondered but there was only pattering raindrops and whisking nature replying to her, and that lack of words is an absence that stings more than she can accept.

  “Why?”

She had wondered for too long but still nothing has come up and maybe it will never be answered because sometimes life is like that, a storm in the middle of a summer day and its lingering residue following her for weeks and months. Maybe one day she’ll stop asking herself that but, for now, it’s just all she can think about, over and over again.

It doesn’t make sense.

Nothing makes sense and it has been like that since she saw the sight, just a few flashes of images on a stage, blood and a pipe and a collapsing body, that had stumbled down her life and shattered it. She can still see them behind her eyes, she can still feel the way her own heart had stopped beating as a black void started to envelop her. She still felt like she’s down there, trapped in a nightmare that no one knows how to stop or break.

It doesn’t make sense.

There was regret in her body language. There was a baggage full of words that should have been said and things that she should have done. Maybe, if she had done them, nothing would have ever happened. Or, maybe if she hadn’t done anything at all in the first place.

Bessie wished she could go back in time. She wished there was a way for her to erase all those tiny mistakes she’s made, all those times she wanted to reach out but, instead, turned her head away because it still hurt. Her friendship, her best friend was--is still--the most important thing in her life and, yet, she let it slip away in fear of what the world would have said if she had confessed how she truly felt. Her image was everything and, yet, what is left now? There’s no image to defend, there’s nothing left because Anna’s death has destroyed everything.

So she wishes. She wonders and wishes that there was a way for her to save just a few lives.

Their lives.

Her life.

There are still tears in her eyes. She wanted to believe it’s because of the weather and the wind but it’s just a useless alibi. She lets them fall, not ashamed anymore because there was no one around to watch her. But she felt like a hypocrite, she felt like she didn't have the right to cry that loss because she could have done so much to prevent Anna’s absence.

To prevent her death.

She knew it’s the truth, no matter how many times people keep telling her that she’s done nothing to cause the incident. She knew it’s the truth, no matter how many people try to explain how, sometimes, she can’t save everyone. That bad things just happen to good people.

  “I’m sorry.”

She knew it’s too late.

She knew that it’s useless because Anna’s not there to hear that word.

Maybe she’s listening, like Miss Aragon had said to her during Anna’s funeral. Maybe she’s been watching her down from heaven, because that’s where she is now, along with all her other friends who perished in the fires, those tortured souls hidden behind a smile and an endless laugh. She remembered it. She remembered how Maria’s sweet voice always went directly to her heart and pulled strings that never hurt. She remembered how Maggie’s laugh made her feel better, especially those days when the world was so set on destroying her balance and sanity. She remembered how Anna’s face would light up when she walked into Mr. Stephens’s class every morning, bright eyes that shone like daily stars. But, most of all, she was addicted to Anna’s voice, Anna’s laugh, Anna’s smile and eyes. She craved Anna’s everything in ways that were so deep and powerful that, after a while, she stopped asking herself what magic they held. So she turned to Anna, she made Anna laugh over and over again because she was selfish, she was in pain and only that laugh, that smile, that voice, those eyes could save her from the deepest and darkest waves.

Regrets don’t leave Bessie, not even now that she’s standing in front of the consequences of her ignorance. 

It’s her fault. 

She kept telling herself it as if this admission of truth could absolve her sin. It’s her fault because she promised but it was always so easy to forget about it: there wasn’t ever the need to- she had always been the one that needed help the most in the friend group it seemed. She had always been the one fate had chosen to deal bad cards: her family, her relationships, those idiotic statements and those stupid decisions.

But then there was Anna. Anna’s comforting words, gentle touch, light hearted jokes to make her smile--the way they would just…be there and make things better in ways that were difficult to explain to the world that had never seen her in private.

Why didn’t Bessie do the same for her? Or for any of her friends?

Why didn’t Bessie come out and defend Maria when all those voices wanted a piece of her soul? Why didn’t Bessie come out and be there for Maggie, not only when those cracks in her voice were so out for everyone to hear and judge? Why didn’t Bessie let Anna know that those voices weren’t true?

Why didn’t Bessie let Anna know that she was the purest soul she’s ever met?

  “I’m sorry.”

Bessie was sorry. She could have done more. She could have told them more. She could have told her.

She should have known better.

Bessie should have known better, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to face the truth. She didn’t want to realize that her superhero might be needing a hero herself and she was too afraid or too busy to be up to the task.

She depended on Anna and now she’s lost.

Alone.

Bessie heard a whimper and realized it’s herself. She hiccuped and struggled to breathe for a moment. With visibly shaking hands, she fished her phone out of her pocket and unlocked it. The lock screen was her and Anna at a dog shelter they had been helping out at seven months ago. 

She opened up her messaging app, smearing water across the screen in the process, and found Anna’s contact. The name was, “Anna Banana”.

Bessie: I know it’s too late, but...I just wanted to tell you that I love you.

Bessie: Don’t worry about replying.

------

George wasn’t as sad as everyone thought he was. And he understood why he should be and why they assumed such, Anne was his big sister, but Anne had also done awful things that even he couldn’t feel sorry for her bloody fate.

On the night of the Black Prom, after the horrid blood dump, he and Jane escaped by going after Anne and Cathy with Anna. After losing sight of his sister and her girlfriend, Anna said she was going to go back inside to get Joan, and that was the last time he ever saw his friend. Anna’s death messed him up more than Anne’s did.

Mother fell to the floor, screaming and crying, when the officer arrived to tell the family the news. Father became very pale white and stopped breathing for a moment. When Mary was called at college, she was silent for a long time and then stammered when she spoke. George just wore a solemn expression on his face and shook his head. He was the first to see the body, since his parents weren’t up to it, and he sighed at the mutilation in the ambulance, then told the officers what his sister had done.

The funeral was difficult. Anne had to be sewn back together, but it still didn’t look like her in the casket. The corpse seemed more like a pasty wax replica of the sister he thought he knew.

His mind has been running wild since then. So many thoughts whirled through his head. He wondered if he could have prevented what had happened, although he was doubtful. It wasn’t his fault, no matter what his brain tried to tell him. He didn’t kill the pigs, he didn’t fill the buckets, he didn’t pull the string.

It wasn’t his fault.

But still. Emotions have risen into a fever pitch. The dreary, grey weather definitely didn’t help, either. He had to get out of the house, away from Anne’s lingering presence in his home life, so he drove out to the closest beach he could access, parked on the bay, and just watched the storm for hours.

The beach reminded him of better times. Back when things weren’t as messed up as they were. Back when Anne hadn’t been such a monster.

One of his fondest memories was of when he was eleven, Anne was twelve, and Mary was thirteen. They were playing at a sparkling beach while their parents watched from underneath a rainbow umbrella, and he specifically remembered Mary meticulously digging a hole on the shoreline. 

  “OI!!” His oldest sister had roared from inside the giant crater. “Get you big galumphing feet out of here!”

The offender, George, peered down at her from where he was perched precariously on the edge. “I don’t even know what that word means!” he had said. “But I’ll show you what galumphing REALLY looks like!”

Anne’s head popped out from the hole at the same time as George had jumped into it. The three of them fell into a tangled tizzy, grunting and gibbering and giggling loudly like sparring puppies in a playpen. They had begun to wrestle, getting absolutely covered in wet sand.

George smiled fondly at the memory. Those were the good days. It’s a shame, he thinks, how much things have changed since then.

He sighed and turned on the windshield wipers, then leaned back into his seat, thinking.

Joan was dead, too, apparently, and that was another person he was more distraught over than his own sister. That poor girl. He really liked her and was looking forward to hanging out with her more often. Too bad it’ll never ever happen.

After that, he couldn’t get Joan out of his head, so he tried to find some closure by visiting her grave. 

There was a single flower upon the mound of dirt, and George didn’t think the man standing before the tomb was the one who put it there.

  “Oh-- Sorry.” George said, backing away when the man looked at him. “I was just--”

The man looked him up and down, then made a motion with his head, signaling for George to come beside him. George did.

The man was huge, with tufts of blonde hair and a big bristly beard. He wasn’t using an umbrella, but didn’t really look like he cared that he was getting wet. He studied the tombstone intently.

  “You know them?” He asked in a deep, gruff voice.

  “I knew Joan.” George answered honestly. “We hung out at prom together. I like to think that we were friends, even in the short amount of time we knew each other.” He shifted, bowing his head. “I hope she knew that.”

The man nodded with a rumbling humming noise.

  “Did you know them?” George asked.

The man looked at George, and his eyes were a startlingly bright blue.

  “In a way,” He said.

------

The smell of the ocean is salty, wet, and overpowering. After everything that had happened in the past three weeks, Katherine was convinced that this was what freedom smelled like.

After Mulaney couldn’t get anything “useful” out of her, she was switched to a new detective, Victoria Green, who was at least willing to listen to reason and rationalized her story much more than her male counterpart did. But still, all the questions and constant repetition was hellish and definitely not the birthday gift she was wishing for when she recently turned nineteen. Not that it would be easy to celebrate with such matters on her hands.

Katherine stepped out of her car fully, breathing in the fresh ocean air. Seagulls were squawking loudly from a distance, and the splashing of the waves alongside the gentle rocking of the ferry created a soothing lull that sedated the stress in her mind.

She weaved around other cars waiting to arrive at mainland Europe and walked onto the deck. Distant city lights were mere winking twinkles in the distance, and the ocean seemed like an endless roiling black abyss of tranquility. The sky was spread wide open and ran free from horizon to horizon.

After everything, it was nice to get away from it all, even for just a few hours. Even if it was just one ferry ride and a single short drive around, then back to interrogation the next day. It loosened so much tension in her body that had seemed to have her snared in a vicious bear trap.

Only a few people were on the deck, most deciding to stay in their cars, sheltered from the misty weather. There was a woman smoking on a bench, a kid gazing out at the ocean, two young children haphazardly jumping up and down to try and see any dolphins by the guard rail, and a man taking a few pictures of the city in the distance. Katherine walked over to the railing to look at the water and took in another deep breath to ease her lungs.

  “It’s so beautiful,” Murmured the person to Katherine’s left. They were staring up at the sky with a wistful expression, starlight shimmering against their deep, rich brown eyes.

  “It is.” Katherine agreed, nodding.

  “Have you ever been on a ferry before? Because I haven’t.” The person asked, initiating small talk of sorts. It was refreshing for Katherine, so much better than the interrogation questions from the detectives and the concerned statements her family are always giving her now. 

  “A few times,” Katherine answered. “When my family would take trips, we would usually just ride the ferry or take the Eurotunnel because it’s cheaper than flying.” She chuckled lightly.

  “If I may--” Said the person, “Where did you go? Like, on your trips?”

  “France, Germany, Poland, Belarus, Norway, even Iceland! Of course, we had to fly there, though. Don’t think a ferry would go that far.” She actually managed a real laugh, despite the comment not being that funny. 

  “Wow,” The person said, looking starstruck. They swept their brown-red bangs out of their eyes, adjusting circular gold glasses on their freckled nose. “That sounds like so much fun.”

  “It was,” Katherine smiled at the memories. 

She looked back at the ocean stretched all around her. The water below was roiling, waves crashing and clapping loudly against the ferry. Something in the sea seemed agitated, Katherine could feel it. Like even nature itself knew something terrible had happened.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” She whispered. 

That was something Katherine kept telling herself over and over again, and she knew it was true, no matter how scared she was, no matter what any news station said. She just had to remember that, even if nobody else did.

  “It wasn’t all your fault.” She said again, this time a little louder. The ocean noises and the boat blocked out most noises from listening ears, not that anyone seemed to care what she was saying.

Joan looked at her, peering out through silver eyes that were muted by dark brown contacts, but didn’t say anything. She turned her head forward again, touching and fixing her fake glasses in a nervous tick of sorts. Anxiety was written all over her face.

  “I’m sorry you can’t stay in England,” Katherine said for what felt like the hundredth time. Joan told her she didn’t have to apologize the first time, but she was still so sorry. Being smuggled out of the one place she knew--it must have been so scary for Joan. And Katherine being the mastermind behind the scheme didn’t give her much peace of mind. “It’s just--” She went on, “People thinking you’re dead is sort of contingent on nobody seeing you alive.”

Katherine took it as a miracle that Joan was even alive. After the girl had gone limp in her arms, she thought all was lost, that it was over, but then the bleeding abruptly stopped and Joan’s heartbeat continued to flutter, weak, but there. Katherine then wasted no time getting her into her car and driving her to her house. Her oldest sister was a vet, so she snatched her pair of keys to the local animal hospital and broke in for the necessary supplies.

In her car, she cleaned, disinfected, stapled, and sutured Joan’s wounds with no anesthesia to the best of her ability. It was a messy and uncomfortable process for the both of them, with Katherine being confined to the cramped space of her vehicle for the amature sewing treatment and Joan getting sharp things put into her skin without any drugs to make her numb. Katherine had debated using some, but didn’t want to run the risk of accidentally killing Joan with dog sedatives when she was already barely clinging to life.

After Joan was treated, Katherine housed her in an old storage garage her family rarely ever went to, filling it with blankets and lanterns, food and water, fans and extra pairs of clothes. She knew it must have been scary and awful and painful lonely for Joan, but she had nowhere else to hide her until she got a plan, so that was where the girl stayed for three weeks. Katherine visited every day, always checking up on her little stowaway when she got the time, but it soon became apparent that neither could live like this. So that’s when Katherine created the plan to get Joan out of England.

  “Where will I go?” Joan asked in a tiny voice. There was fear in her eyes; she didn’t want to be alone anymore, but they had no choice.

  “I don’t know.” Katherine admitted, biting her lip. “Somewhere where they don’t know you.”

Joan nodded sadly and looked back down at the water. Katherine knew she wasn’t going to last long on her own.

  “I can take you as far as Paris,” Katherine said. “But then I have to come back.” She wasn’t going to be getting any sleep tonight.

  “Thank you,” Joan whispered.

Katherine quirked a tiny smile. “Come on,” She said. “Rest in the car. You’re going to need energy.”

Joan nodded and they both walked back to the car. Joan fell asleep rather quickly, leaning her head against the window and drifting off, but it wasn’t long before she suddenly jerked awake with a gasp, sweating and breathing heavily.

  “Are you okay?” Katherine asked worriedly, glancing away from the road they were back to driving on.

Joan turned her head very slowly, fearfully, as if she were expecting someone else, something horrifying, to be sitting in the driver’s seat. She swallowed thickly.

  “Do you need me to pull over?”

  “No,” Joan whispered, her voice sounding strangled. “Sorry.” She rubbed her face with a sluggish hand, then ripped off the red-brown wig she was having to wear. Locks of white-blonde hair instantly came tumbling free down her back and shoulders. 

  “Do you wanna talk about it?” Katherine offered.

Joan actually choked a tight laugh. “It’s dumb,” She said. “I just--had dream. About Miss Aragon.”

Katherine looked at her curiously. “Really?”

  “Mhm,” Joan nodded. “We were--we were close.” She wrung her hands together like a nervous baby pangolin trying to muster up the courage to ask for food at a friend’s house. “But--in the dream she--she said that she loved me like her very own daughter.” She finally managed to say, the words wobbling out of her mouth like someone shaking them out of a bottle. “She said...she said that she was gonna--she was gonna adopt me.”

Katherine’s breath caught in her throat. Her chest suddenly felt as tight as a noose. The kind of pain that happened when you swallowed too much water at once, and it stretched and gouged all the way down through your chest like a burrowing worm.

She closed her hand tighter around the steering wheel because there was nothing else she could think of to do--like maybe if she squeezed that semi-pliable ring of rubber and cloth as hard as she could, some of the tightness and pain would bleed out of her chest. It was the only way she could bear to keep watching the young girl in the passenger’s seat beside her.

At long last, a few tears dribbled down from Joan’s contact-covered eyes and over her cheeks (which had been growing redder and redder with the effort of holding them back). She had lost the battle with her mouth, allowing the tenuous trembling to become a yank at the corners, pulling her lips into a long, fishlike downwards curve. Her voice was beginning to skip like a broken record.

  “She was g--she was g-gonna adopt me…”

Katherine felt her own eyes burn and she turned to the windshield, which the rain had blurred into a muted grey painting.

Beside her, Joan spluttered and hiccuped and coughed, her chest hitching as she tried valiantly to keep speaking. But the oncoming sobs chopped her words up like vegetables under an inexperienced hand's paring knife.

  “So... S-so she t-t-took me home with h-her and m-m-made me feel so s-s-special. She l-l-let me d-do things my Mama never allowed. But n-now Miss Aragon was my Mama and I was happy. For o-one in my miserable life, I was happy!”

Katherine’s hand raised upwards to cover her mouth with more force than was necessary, sending creeping threads of pain up the bridge of her nose. Her eyes had shut tight for a moment--she realized that the rain was not what was blurring her view out the windshield.

Joan was crying openly now, her face crinkled, puffy and red, glistening with tears. Her fingers were clenched tightly on either side of her, white-knuckled. There were tracks in the velvet from where her fingernails had scraped into fists. The gasping had trailed off, but in exchange, it had taken with it any semblance of composure.

  “I was happy, Katherine.”

Katherine bluntly jabbed her thumb into the lid of her tender eye and her own tears erupted at last--they had just been waiting for an excuse to fall.

Joan, too, was spluttering even harder, fighting with every last bit of strength to keep from succumbing to the deep, chest-born sobs that were welling up and shaking her tiny body.

  “She said she loved me. ME. N-not one of the other kids, she loved me. S-she was the o-only one who did. S-she... She was gonna adopt me…”

Katherine sniffled, swiftly wiping her eyes. Joan watched her with a deeply saddened expression, then looked out at the road ahead.

  “And then--everything went wrong. Miss Aragon was dead and her blood was all over me and it was my fault.”

  “She’s alive, Joan.” Katherine said, surprised at how steady her voice was. “I promise. She’s okay.”

  “I know, but--” Joan shook her head, whimpering softly. The PTSD from the events of the prom set in fast for her, not that Katherine was really surprised. “Thank you.”

  “What?”

  “Thank you.” Joan said again. “For letting me tell you that. It--it felt good. To get it out.”

Katherine smiled slightly. “I’m glad.” She reached over and gently took Joan’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “We’re going to be okay.”

Joan nodded.

  “We can pick up some more clothes for you,” Katherine said, trying to switch to a more stable topic. “So you won’t have to wear the same thing all the time.”

  “Clothes are good. Will I have a map?”

  “I have one in the glove compartment.”

  “But don’t you need it?”

  “No, don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll be okay without it.”

  “...I’ll make a map for myself.”

  “Heh, all right. We can get some paper and pens, too.”

  “Walkie-talkies. We should have those, too!”

  “I’m. not sure about that.”

  “Don't you want to stay in touch?”

  “Of course.”

  “So are you gonna buy walkie-talkies?”

  “...Maybe.”

And they both laughed. For some reason, it made things feel better. Just for a little while. Even if the walkie-talkies were just a false sense of hope, because Katherine feared she wouldn’t see Joan Seymour ever again after tonight.

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Highschool Au Moceit: Part One

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

Day One:

Patton wasnt the best with social etiquette, his smile was to wide, his eyes to shiny, people found him weird for being so happy. He wore dresses, to, lots of dresses, and he loved them. It didnt matter to him that none of his clothes quite fit like they should, or that his glasses were almost two sizes to big for his face, he liked it that way. He hoped the kids at his new school would like it to, he wanted to make friends quickly, friends made him even happier.

Patton put on a white long sleeved shirt and a light blue dress over it. He fixed a white bow in his hair and cleaned off his glasses before putting his shoes and backpack on and running out the door. His parents werent there to say goodbye, they were always busy. He didnt mind most days, it wasnt their fault they had to work after all!

He ran up to the bus stop and hopped onto the wall, swinging his legs back and forth as he waited.

"Hey, I dont think I've seen you around before, you new here?" Patton looked up. The person standing in front of him was tall, with short purple hair and a black hoodie.

"Yeah! My names Patton, he/him pronouns, you can call me Pat, nice to meet you!" Patton held his hand out for the kid.

"Virgil, he/him," said the boy, returning the hand shake awkwardly. Patton heard snickering from behind him.

"If you're a boy, why are you wearing a dress? Do your parents hate you or something?" said a snobbish voice. Patton felt his face flush, he shook it off.

"Mind your business Carol," said Virgil, shielding Patton from the view of the small group of people.

"Its ok, I'm used to it," Patton rubbed his arm and looked away slightly, Virgil sat down next to him.

"Being used to something doesnt make it ok, Pat," he said, pulling his hood over his head.

"You dont let people tell you what gender should define you, got that?" said the purple-haired boy. Patton simply nodded and smiled. He waited next to Virgil until the bus showed up, then hopped aboard and sat in the seat closest to the front. He watched the trees pass outside and drew hearts in the dew on the windows until they reached the school.

They reached the school after a few minutes of driving around to other stops. Patton skipped down the steps and was about to walk inside when he bumped into something tall and soft. He looked up to be faced with a pair of menacing eyes, one brown and one yellow.

"S-Sorry- didnt see you there," he said to the figure. They simply growled under their breath and walked in a different direction. Virgil got off the bus and grabbed Patton by the arm.

"That's Deceit, if you know what's good for you you wont talk to him, hes bad news," Virgil said. Patton stole one last glance at Deceit before walking into the school building. He didn't seem like a bad guy, But Patton supposed no one really did at first glance, after all, he'd only just gotten there.

He ran to homeroom and sat down in the seat closest to the teacher's desk. He ignored the snickers and murmurs behind him until the teacher walked into the room.

"Class, we have a new student today, he's going to introduce himself," she said, moving out of the way so Patton could stand up.

He fumbled around a bit trying to stand up on the table, and nearly fell off, which caused a snicker to ripple through the back of the room.

"Hi! My name's Patton Prescott! I use he/him pronouns, my favorite animal is cats, and my favorite food is cookies!" he smiled brightly, swaying from side to side a bit before getting back in his seat.

"Well, welcome to class Patton," said the teacher. Patton grinned, causing his eyes to close slightly. They waited in homeroom until the bell rang. He ran out of the class and upstairs to the science lab. It seemed as though most of the seats were taken in the front, so he decided to sit in the back.

"You're in my spot," said a voice, in what sounded like a low hiss.

Patton froze and turned around, only to come face to face with Deceit. He let out a small squeak before gathering up his own things and running off to another desk. He noticed Deceit watching him from the corner of his eye and buried his head into a book, hoping it could block his face enough.

"Hey girl, are you from Tennessee, because you're the only ten I see," said a voice from in front of Patton. He heard a groan from the other side of the room.

"Noooo- last time I checked I'm a boy from Florida," Patton watched as the expression on the face of the kid in front of him changed from one of smug flirtation, to mortified panic.

"What kind of guy wears bows and a dress! You look stupid!" he said angrily.

"The only stupid one here is you, he can wear what he wants, it's none of your business why," said the menacing voice of Deceit from across the room. The boy stormed back to his seat and Patton buried his face in his arms.

He waited out the rest of the class without speaking or looking at anyone before running through the hallway at top speed to escape the stares. He felt someone grab onto his shoulder and whipped around to face them. It was Deceit, he looked upset.

"I wanted to make sure you were ok, I know that cant be a fun experience for you," he said.

"Its fine, I'm used to it," Patton mumbled, shuffling his feet.

"Society just cant handle people having different tastes can they," Deceit's vibrant eyes seemed to stare into his soul. He shuffled his feet again and ran a hand over the back of his neck.

"Yeah, but they dont mean anything by it! People make bad choices some times," Patton said, his smile faltered slightly.

Deceit smirked slightly "you'll have to change that opinion eventually, optimism like that might get you hurt one of these days," he said. He ruffled Patton's hair slightly and continued down the hall. Patton frowned.

"Patton! Are you ok? What'd he do to you?" Virgil skidded to a halt next to him.

"I'm fine, he was just checking on me, someone mistook me for a girl in class today," Patton said. Virgil's eyes seemed to blaze with fire.

"People sometimes, it's like they think pronouns are a joke," he snarled.

"It really wasnt that big of a deal," Patton said. He was beginning to get tired of the subject. He and Virgil walked to their next class, talking about what they'd learned.

They'd gotten separated somewhere along the way to the gym, but Patton found him again once they reached the actual gymnasium.

"Gods I hate gym class, dodgeball has got to be the worst thing society has ever come up with," Virgil said. He'd gotten benched within the first few minutes of playing, he didnt seem upset about that fact though. Patton couldnt focus completely on him as he was trying to dodge a few blows from a boy with black sunglasses.

He was knocked back by a sudden blow to the chest, and landed with a thud on the gymnasium floor.

"Point Remus! Told you I could beat you!" said a boy with brown hair and a poorly drawn mustache on his face.

"Remus! You could've seriously hurt someone!" another boy who looked like the first, with redder hair and no drawn-on mustache, held his hand out to help Patton up and guided him over to Virgil.

"You did good!" Virgil said, nudging him in the arm.

"Yeah- wasnt expecting that though," Patton giggled.

"Remus is a bit of a wild card on most days, not his fault though, hes related to a class president, gotta make a name for himself somehow," Virgil said, pointing between the twins.

By the end of the day, Patton had solidified himself friendships with Virgil and the Prince twins. He was glad, the three of them were. nice. Even if Remus was a bit off putting at times, but he guessed that wasnt his fault. He felt like he was going to like it here, and he was happy with that.

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

Tag List:

@oceanart123

@youtuberswithalex

@misunderstoodshadowling

@hayden-going-insane

@imbasicallyshakespear

@spooky-scary-virgil

@id-rather-go-live-in-a-trash-can

@sidesgeek

@the-emo-nightmare-bean

[therainroguefanfiction]

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 025 [Top Two]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 2,581

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“You should see me in a crown. Your silence is my favorite sound. Watch me make ’em bow, one by one.” Billie Eilish, “You Should See Me In A Crown”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“Umm… why the heck are you all here?” Ochaco cried out, distress clear in her voice. Dozens of students were crowding around the outside of our classroom, whispering and taking pictures of us. What, are we a fucking exhibit at the zoo now?

“Do you students have some sort of business with our class?” Iida questioned.

“Why are you blocking our doorway? I won’t let you take us hostage!” Mineta cried out. As if that short idiot could do anything.

“They’re scouting out the competition, idiots.” Bakugo headed for the door and I followed, slinging the strap of my bag over my shoulder. “We’re the class that survived a real villain attack. They wanna see us with their own eyes.” He stopped at the door, narrowed eyes scanning the students. “At least now you know what a future pro looks like. Now, move it extras!”

I chuckled. Typical Bakugo. To think that one word changed our relationship. I wonder, would we be friends if I hadn’t learned who he was?

“You can’t just walk around calling people extras just because you don’t know who they are!” Iida complained, waving his hand frantically.

I raised a brow at him. “The fuck you talking about, man? He calls everyone extras, even the fuckers he does know.”

“So this is class 1-A?” A boy with a mop of purple hair pushed his way to the front of the group, a black-haired boy close behind. This kid over here lookin’ like Doc Brown’s reject son. “I heard you guys were impressive, but you just sound like an ass. Is everyone in the hero course delusional or just you?”

“Sick burn, bro.” I snickered.

“Shut up, bitch!”

“How sad to come here to find a bunch of ego-maniacs.” The boy rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s tragique.” The black-haired boy nodded.

“I wanted to be in the hero course, but like many others here, I was forced to choose a different track. Such is life. I didn’t cut it the first time around, but I have another chance. If any of us do well in the sports festival, the teachers can decide to transfer us to the hero course. And they’ll have to transfer people out to make room.”

Several people grew nervous behind us, Izuku included. While I don’t doubt the validity of his statement, I think the only people at real risk of being yanked from class 1-A is Invisigirl and the perverted Grape. I can’t speak for class 1-B, though, not that that has anything to do with us.

“‘Scouting the competition’?” Purple continued. “Maybe some of my peers are, but I’m here to let you know that if you don’t bring your very best, I’ll steal your spot right from under you. Consider this a declaration of war.”

“Heh~ but we‘re the egomaniacs, right?” I scoffed, meeting his dull purple eyes. “Ever heard of the expression, ‘The pot calling the kettle black’? Besides, if you weren’t good enough to make it the first time, what makes you think you can replace people that were good enough?”

His eyes narrowed.

The black-haired boy beside him scoffed. “You guys are whaq with a q.”

“‘Whack’ isn’t spelled with a fucking q, you twat.” I responded.

“It’s reserved for special cases like you!”

“Are you stupid?”

“I’m lucid sometimes.”

“Hey, you!!” A silver-haired boy joined the fray, pushing and shoving his way through the crowd as he screamed at the top of his lungs. “I’m from class 1-B next door to you! We heard you fought some villains and I came to see if that was true! You’re just a bunch of brats who think you’re better than us!!”

“Goddamn. And I thought you were loud, Bakuhoe.” I scowled, rubbing my temple. I could feel a headache starting to form from the sheer volume of his voice.

“Talk all you want, it’ll just be more embarrassing when you’re K.O’d!!”

Bakugo moved forward.

“Don’t you ignore me!!”

“Dude, where are you going?” Kirishima rushed forward. “You gotta say something! It’s your fault they’re all hating on us, Bakugo! You, too, Winchester!”

“The fuck’d I do?” I muttered.

“These people don’t matter,” Bakugo responded, simply.

“Huh?”

“The only thing that’s important is that I beat them. Let’s go, Tiger.”

Kirishima sent me a pleading look and I shrugged. “You got what you wanted, Kiri. He said somethin’.” I followed the blonde as he moved through the crowd, the students jumping away from his glaring red eyes.

“Hey!! I’m coming for you!!”

“Hopefully quieter next time,” I muttered, folding my hands behind my head. “I’m hungry, let’s go get tacos.”

“Fuck no. We’re getting ramen.” He glanced at me. “And then we’re going to train.”

I scowled. “You always go to that place that serves only spicy ramen. I hate it.”

“Your quirk is fire but you can’t even handle spicy food. Pathetic.”

“My quirk ain’t about sweatin’, fool. And I never agreed to train with you, either.”

“Too fuckin’ bad,” He suddenly stopped, shoving his finger in my face. “Me and you are gonna destroy all of those damn losers and then I’m gonna thoroughly beat your ass in the final, you got that?!”

I sweatdropped, looking away. “That sounds like a lot of work, man.”

“Suck it up, weakling!”

Geez, once this brat sets his mind on something, there’s no stopping him. This is gonna be a serious pain in my ass.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“I’m home,” I muttered, pushing the door open and kicking my sneakers off before heading to the kitchen. “What the fuck are you doin’, bro?”

Aizawa grunted in annoyance. Both of his thickly bandaged arms were out of their sling, a cup of instant noodles dangling precariously between them. “You’re late,”

I took the cup from his arms, holding up the plastic bag in my other hand. “Sorry. Bakugo’s a real bitch when it comes to training. And everything else in general.”

He fell into the chair at the kitchen table. “You’re training with him?”

I pulled two plates from the cabinet, dividing the box of chicken bites between them before adding a spoonful of mac-n-cheese, green beans, and mashed potatoes with gravy. I set both plates on the table before getting a Dr. Pepper for myself and some juice for him. “I didn’t want to, but he wouldn’t stop bitching about it and then he smacked me when I wasn’t looking, so I humored him. Then I actually got into it and lost track of time.” I plopped down beside him.

Due to his excessive injuries, Aizawa needed someone to help him out at home and since I wasn’t able to protect him from the bird brain fucker, I told Toshi that I’d be staying with Zawa ’til he recovers. The man in question certainly wasn’t happy about needing to be helped, especially not by me, but the alternative was the loud-mouth Present Mic, so he settled.

He was struggling to pick up the fork so I grabbed it for him, holding it up so his finger could wrap around the metal. “I’m surprised he’s gotten so close to you. I don’t know if that’s a good thing, though.”

“Probably not, but at least I’m finally starting to socialize, right?”

He stared at me blankly.

“Tough crowd,”

“What are your plans for the sports festival?”

“Care to be more specific?”

“Are you going to give it your all? You haven’t shown much interest in going pro.”

I leaned back in my chair, stirring my mashed potatoes with the fork. “Dunno. I’ve been thinking about it… everyone is so hyped for the sports festival, so I feel like I should match that by giving it my all, you know? At the same time… everyone else has a clear goal, a dream to become a pro and this is their big chance to get noticed. Well, one of ’em, anyway. Kinda feels like I shouldn’t take that away from them. Plus…”

“You’re scared,” he commented, dryly.

I scowled, propping my chin in my palm. “I ain’t scared, I’m worried, there’s a difference. I don’t wanna hurt anyone, especially if this is gonna be like a one-on-one battle royale or whatever. Bakugo has this shit idea in his head that the two of us are gonna be the top two – with him taking first, of course. I kinda wanna beat him just to spite him, but that’ll cause me a bigger headache in the future. He’s pretty damn strong, too.”

“You don’t think you can beat him?” He stabbed a piece of chicken, bringing it to his mouth.

I shrugged. “Won’t know that unless we fight. I feel like my raw power is better than his, but I rely on instinct alone, while he relies on instinct and intelligence. I’d rather not fight him if I can avoid it, it’ll be too much of a pain in the – Ow, that fucking hurt, you bitch!” I rubbed the back of my hand which he had just stabbed with his fork.

“Stop being lazy, Jen. Whether you plan to go pro or not, as a student of U.A. you represent the school through your actions.”

“Isn’t that even more reason to air on the side of caution?” I scowled. “Think about how shit it would be if I lost control during the sports fest. Talk about an image ruiner.”

“Are you planning on killing anyone?”

“The fuck kinda question is that? Of course not.” I paused. “Though, I wouldn’t be above killing Mineta, not even gonna lie. If I have to fight him, I’mma destroy him.”

He ignored my last comment. “Then you should be fine.” His eyes met mine and his gaze softened. “Just do your best and stop stressing so much.”

“Hey, Zawa?”

“Hmm?”

I chewed on my lip, thoughtfully. Should I tell him about that voice I heard back at the USJ? No matter what kinda world you live in, hearing voices ain’t a good thing, but… it was probably just a hallucination brought on from the extreme stress. I don’t wanna worry him or bug him, especially when he’s still healing. I smiled softly, “You always act tough but you’re just a big ole softy, ain’t ya – ow, fuck, Aizawa!”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

The day of the sports festival had finally arrived and the stadium was packed with people. Various food stalls had been set up outside, including a glorious taco stand. Me and the rest of class 1-A had been ordered to change into our gym uniforms and hang out in the waiting room until we were called out, but I had woken up late and missed breakfast. Plus, tacos.

While the others nervously and excitedly chatted with one another about the sports fest, I slipped out of the room and out to the front where the food stalls were located. My mouth started to water at all the glorious smells teasing my nose, my stomach growling and whining at me. I stopped behind a woman with a small child, trying not to tap my foot impatiently as she waited on her food. Finally, she stepped away and I moved forward.

The man at the stall was older, maybe late fifties or early sixties, with a mess of gray hair. A thin, white bandana had been wrapped around his forehead, the name ‘Shimatsu Tacos!’ written in bold red lettering with a taco between the two words.

He smiled kindly, wrinkles appearing around his mouth. “What can I get for you?”

“Five soft shell tacos, please.” I dug around in my pocket for the money I had shoved there after changing out of my uniform.

“Coming right up!” He hummed as he started to cook the beef and toast the shells.

“Hey, you!” An arm slung around my shoulder and I scowled at the contact, slapping my palm against the woman’s face and shoving her away from me. Her hand grabbed my shoulder, refusing to let go. “Hey, what are you doing?!”

“Don’t fucking touch me, rude ass.” I stomped my foot down on hers and she finally let go.

“Ow, that hurt, you brat!” Her purple eyes narrowed at me as she clutched her foot, blonde hair bouncing as she hopped on the other foot.

“Don’t fucking touch people without their permission.” I folded my arms over my chest.

“Listen here, you little -”

“Mt. Lady!” A man grabbed her wrist before she could grab me. He looks like… a leafless tree in a tight blue one-piece. ‘Kay, then. “You can’t attack a student, what are you thinking?”

“This brat attacked me.” She huffed.

I rolled my eyes. “I stomped on your foot because you grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. Get over it.”

“See! She admitted it!” She pointed an accusing finger at me. Bitch, are you five?

“You shouldn’t have grabbed her,” Woodsman scolded before turning to me, softening his voice. “And you shouldn’t attack people.”

“Che,” I looked away from him, turning back to the old man as he handed me my food. Each taco was wrapped separately and all of them were placed in a small, cardboard container.

“Here you are, enjoy!”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Not a thing!” He grinned, giving me a thumbs up. “Just do your best in the sports festival!”

I hummed as something behind him caught my eye. “Hey, can I have that?”

His eyes followed mine and he seemed to realize what I was planning to do. He laughed loudly, taking it down from the peg it hung on and handing it over to me. “Good luck, kid!”

“Thanks,” I sent him a smile before turning toward the stadium.

“Wait a minute! I’m not done with you!” The woman grabbed my shoulder. “You need to learn some respect, kid!”

I scoffed, slapping her hand away. “And you need to learn to keep your hands to your fuckin’ self. Respect is earned, it ain’t given freely, and you ain’t done shit to earn my respect so fuck off, old lady.”

“O-Old?!”

Hmm, how annoying. I weaved my way through the crowd of people, munching on one of the tacos as I re-entered the stadium. I pushed open the door to our waiting room and stopped short as the tense atmosphere.

“- Of course you’re better than me.” Izuku was saying as he faced Todoroki. “In fact, you probably have way more potential than anyone in the hero course. That’s why you got in so easily.”

Fucking rude, you little shit.

“Midoriya, maybe you’re being a little hard on yourself. And us…” Kirishima spoke up, holding his hands up. He was clearly trying to defuse the situation.

“No, he’s right, guys! All the other courses… they’re coming for us with everything they’ve got. We’re all gonna have to fight to stand out. And I’ll be aiming for the top, too!”

“Fine,” Todoroki responded, his voice ice cold.

“Sheesh, you guys are a couple of edgelords, ain’t ya?” I commented before taking another bite of the taco.

“Winchester! Where did you disappear to?” Kiri asked, his eyes snapping to the food in my hand. “Hey, where did you get that food? And where’s mine?”

“Food stand,” I answered. “If I share with you, I’d have to share with the whole class and I ain’t about that life. Sorry, bro.”

He sweatdropped.

“Um, Jen-san?”

“What, Izuku?”

“…why are you wearing a bandana around your forehead that says ‘Shimatsu Tacos’?”

“Don’t question my fashion choices, you little shit.”

“R-Right…”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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[yehet-me-up]

Freestyle

Pairing: Jongin/Kai x reader (female)

Word Count: 22,168 

Rating/Warnings: (M) for swearing + modest sexy times + brief mentions of violence and abusive relationships.

Summary: The front desk job at the KOKO Exercise Studio was supposed to be your fresh start, somewhere new to escape the past. If only your ex-fiancé could take the hint. When he starts invading your life once again, stopping by constantly, the last person you would have expected comes to your defense. The edgy, brooding dance teacher Jongin is definitely not how you imagined your Prince Charming, but he might prove to be just the man you need.

Part six of the Exodus Mall series (Can be read independently, but you’ll get some extra backstory if you read the other parts first!)

Monday January 13th, 1997

The phone rings on the far side of the desk, buried beneath a stack of papers. The hum of conversation in the room from people waiting to go into exercise classes and heading into the gym is so loud that you don’t even hear it at first.

Paige looks up from where she’s explaining the aerobics schedule to someone. ‘Liz, could you grab that? Thanks.’

The use of your old nickname takes a second for you to register and you’re glad it’s so busy that your new boss doesn’t notice.

‘Got it!’ You nod to the person in front of you, an older man, and take his signed liability waiver from him with a smile.

‘Thank you Mr. Albertson, Jazzercise is just down the hall. Second door on your left, starting in fifteen minutes. Have fun!’ Adding the paper to the disorganized stack on the counter, you dash to the end of the desk and pick up the phone.

‘KOKO Exercise Studio. Liz speaking, how can I help you?’ your voice is hurried to your ears and you take a deep breath to slow your heart rate.

The person asks when the next Intermediate Hip Hop class is and you dig through the pile of papers on the desk the schedule. You spot it at the far end of the dark wood desk and reach for it.

Just as your hand closes on the paper you stretch an inch too far and the phone cord exceeds its limit, tugging the receiver off the counter with a loud crash that makes you wince. Blessedly, the customer is still on the phone and you sit on the floor and read off the schedule, trying to hide your chuckle at the sheer insanity of how busy things are.

A man comes behind the desk, one of the dancer instructors, you think. As you speak to the customer you become acutely aware of him and the neutral expression on his handsome face as he takes in you on the floor, the mess around you.

The loose grey sweatpants and a white tank top he wears show off his bronzed skin and toned muscles to an absurd degree. The way he moves, gracefully, power contained in his limbs, somehow makes him look like both fire and water as he prowls next to you.

He looks at the paper in your hands, reading the CLASS SCHEDULE title and motions for it. The crease in his forehead deepens, making you feel foolish and causing you to stutter into the phone.

After looking at it for a beat he hands the paper back to you. He gives you a raise of his brow, the deep brown of his eyes betraying no emotion other than boredom. The way he watches you reminds you faintly of the person who caused you to move to Seattle and you feel your defenses rise in response.

With a glance at the line out the door, he leaves. The air still feels charged from his presence. Electric, the way it does during a rainstorm when lightning is imminent.

Gee, thanks for the help you think, shaking your head before being drawn back into the conversation with the person on the phone.

As soon as you hang up you fix the phone and get started organizing the papers on the counter while you help the next customer with a friendly smile.

Over the course of the day you and Paige alternate handling the endless calls and tackling the steady stream of customers walking in for classes and gym passes. It’s only your fourth day of work, but thankfully you can tell that the New Year’s rush of people attempting to set new fitness resolutions is slowing down.

Someone else might be stressed out by the non-stop work - the tide of paperwork, the scheduling to catch up on after the previous front desk admin quit without notice just after Christmas - but not you. All of it helps with the aching emptiness that has taken up residence in your heart.

Over the course of the last two weeks you’ve moved to Seattle with your older sister, both found places at the Exodus Mall that were hiring, interviewed, and started work. Two weeks passed in the blink of an eye.

On Friday Paige told you she didn’t want to see any other candidates. With your experience with reception at a dance studio in Tacoma you were a perfect fit. She begged you to start that day and it’s been non-stop since.

All of it provides a steady hum of things to do; a hum that distracts your mind and your body from what, and who, you left behind in Tacoma.

No. Left behind is too subtle a phrase to describe it. It implies that you and your sister, at twenty-one and twenty-six, decided to move onto better things in the ��big city’ of Seattle. Two young women ready to take on the world.

As if. Your life is as far from Friends as it’s possible to be.

Escaped might be better to describe how everything went down. Fled would also work.

In a lull after the seven o’clock classes start you look up from the desk to the busy parking lot, drawn by something in your peripheral vision. You watch as a man walks by, his face buried in the collar of his jacket against the cold.

He turns quickly and carries on, getting lost among the cars. But something about his walk, the cut of his hair, sends a jolt of fear through you.  

No, it can’t be you reassure yourself. There’s hundreds of men in Washington who look like Michael. Brown hair and leather jackets over red plaid shirts in the nineties are a dime a dozen.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to focus on filing away membership forms, as if you can keep your ex from finding you through sheer force of will.

The sense of unease stays with you throughout the rest of your shift; a chill on the back of your neck that you just can’t shake. Finally, ten o’clock rolls around and you head into the mall to meet your sister. You wave good night to Paige and share an amused sigh at how busy the day was.

Your steps echo in the wide open space, reaching up to the expansive glass dome that forms the ceiling of the mall. A few shops are still closing down for the day. Distant laughter reaches you from the pizza parlor to the right and the opening chorus of ABBA’s ‘Dancing Queen’ is playing from the bookstore near the other end.

These sounds should reassure you; help you feel less alone, less… exposed, out here in the open. But they don’t. All you can feel is the looming threat of your ex surrounding you.

Angry tears prick at your eyes as you stand still in the middle of the marble floor. You wipe at them with the edge of your sleeve and take a steadying breath before carrying on.

While you walk towards the mall daycare you start trying to calm yourself down, pulling out affirmations like they are life rafts that can keep you afloat.

I am safe. He can’t hurt me. I am safe. He won’t find me. I am safe…

Unbidden, images cloud your memory, wiping out the brief sense of calm the words had started to lend you.

Cleaning up a gash in Michael’s forehead after a fight, in the front seat of his Camaro. Still cursing, so fired up he hardly seems to even notice the blood dripping into his eyes. The rank smell of his sweat mixed with the alcohol on his breath as angry words fall from his lips.

The way he doesn’t meet your eyes whenever he gets back in the car after ‘just ducking in to say hi’ at his friend Leroy’s house. The way his hand never leaves his pocket while he drives, as if he’s protecting something worth more than gold.

His unfocused eyes and slurred voice; his weight and the stale smell of cigarettes when he presses you against the door of his room. The panic and uncertainty whenever he wants to sleep together that slowly turn into acquiescence for fear of upsetting him.

The gnawing doubt that eats at your stomach as he grows less like the man you fell in love with in high school each day.

His behavior had turned increasingly erratic as Fall turned into Winter and finally, two weeks ago - the party that was the end of it all.

Red and blue lights, flashing on the grass in front of you. The wail of sirens and sharp male voices. The sight of Michael on the lawn, gun in his hand, pointed at a man you don’t know; an all too familiar sight.

His friend Lucas’ harsh command, telling you to run. The desperation in his eyes as a cop pins him to the grass.

The tight line of betrayal that forms on Michael’s lips as a cop puts handcuffs on him, when he realizes you’re leaving him behind.

The way blood rushes in your ears, sounding like the distant Pacific Ocean, as you flee home on foot through backyards and tree lined roads.

‘Hey, ready to go?’ Your sister’s bright, happy voice draws you from your memories, so close and real they feel suffocating.

The warm, comforting mall feels a million miles away from where you stand, struggling under the weight of what had happened.

You blink and focus on her. A smile still tugs at the corner of her lips, lingering amusement from working with kids all day; remnants of joy you hate to rob her of with the ever-present ghost of your past.

When you meet her eyes she immediately knows something is wrong. She steps closer, reaching out to gently rest her hand on your shoulder.

Her brow furrows in concern, looking around and stepping closer, protecting you on instinct. ‘What’s wrong? What happened?’

You swallow and will strength into your limbs. ‘Nothing. I’m fine, just… remembering.’ With a shake of your head you come back to yourself. ‘I thought I saw Michael outside today.’

Without a word she draws you into her arms, sheltering you from the world as she always has. You drop your head to her shoulder and let yourself be comforted.

For so long you tried to handle it on your own, ashamed to tell her about all the things Michael had been getting into. It started slowly.

Just after you turned eighteen a friend needed him to bring ‘a package’ to someone.

Then, the year after, the fights had started; the mysterious scratches and bruises. The suspicion at everything and everyone that never left his eyes.

The gun you found in his glove compartment while looking for a napkin after getting ice cream on your twentieth birthday. The fight that followed. The days he spent ‘winning you back’ after you left him in the Baskin Robbins parking lot to walk home afterwards.

The way he’d duck down in the driver’s seat when he took certain side streets, some of the only times his eyes had been clear and focused.

The increasing aggression he showed you with his words, his rules; his hands grasping you tightly as if he was afraid you’d leave. ‘You’re the only thing keeping me sane.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ your sister asks gently, rubbing your back the same way your mother did when you had the flu in fifth grade.

‘How did this get to be my life?’ you mumble sadly against her shoulder. ‘No. I don’t want to let him ruin my day.’

‘How about we go and get some shakes?’ she asks in a cheerful voice, pulling back. ‘They always help.’

The emotion in her eyes lets you know she’s just as affected as you are by thoughts of your old life. Her determination to stay positive is the life raft you cling to for normalcy.

‘That would be great,’ you answer and stand straighter, forcing yourself to be in a good mood.

She nods and grabs your hand in hers, guiding you along through the mall. As you make your way to the car she tells you all about the sweet and funny little kids she watched today at her new job at the mall daycare to distract you.

You listen as best you can, rubbing a hand to your stomach, feeling the pit there grow as it always does when you think about him.

Sure, in the beginning Michael was everything you wanted. Tall, handsome, older. He’d hung out with the cool kids at a rival high school. He made you feel special, beautiful, desirable. From the moment his eyes locked on yours in an adjacent line at the Dick’s Drive-In on Broadway, you were a goner.

After he got arrested on New Year’s Eve you’d burst in the back door, still breathing heavily after your desperate run and shaking from the winter cold. You scared the crap out of your sister who was reading on the couch.

For three hours you sat at the dining room table and told her everything you’d kept hidden from her the past few years. Like a poison that had buried itself in your veins, telling her the whole truth felt like the only thing to do, the only way you could feel clean and whole again.

Her words from two weeks ago echo in your head as she orders two shakes at the burger joint down the street from the Exodus Mall.

‘We’re leaving,’ she says, mouth pulled tight into a line.

‘Leaving?’ you ask in confusion, wiping at the tears drying on your cheeks.

Of all the reactions you’d expected - yelling, crying, hurt that you’d lied to her for so long - this calm and decisive reply throws you.

‘Right now. Pack whatever you need. I’m not letting him drag you down anymore. I’ve known something wasn’t right for a while,’ she says, holding one of your hands in both of hers, brows drawn together in dismay. ‘I’ve been so busy with work and school I didn’t push as much as I should have. I’m so sorry.’

The sad look on her face breaks a dam within you and you pull her into a tight hug. ‘It’s my fault. I didn’t say anything, I wasn’t sure what I’d do without him,’ you say, voice cracking, and press your face against her long hair. ‘I’m so scared.’

She clears her throat and there’s determination in her voice when she speaks. ‘We’re getting out of here, okay?’

Your eyes go wide, your heart wants to object. For months, years really, you’ve known Michael was headed nowhere good, but still you love him. In the naive, blindly optimistic way can’t help with him.

‘He’ll come here looking for you, once he’s out on bail, won’t he?’ she asks, pulling back and giving the most intense stare you’ve seen since the time you stole one of her Barbies.

He’s obsessed. You know this, even though you badly wish you didn’t. He says you’re his only tie to the world. If you don’t leave now he’s going to drag you all the way down with him. ‘Yes.’

‘Do you want to be here? Or do you want out?’

Fresh tears pool in your eyes and you blink through them, rubbing your palm with your thumb, desperately wishing you could somehow take Michael with you and start over.

But by now you know he’s never going to change, and the only choice left is whether you want to go down with him.

‘I just want us to be happy again. I want to feel safe.’ Your voice is so small you’re surprised she can even hear you, but like always, she does.

She nods, kneels down next to your chair and gives you another hug hug. ‘Leave it to me.’

After losing your parents you’d thought nothing could make you feel so lost and small again, but that familiar feeling rose up in you as you watched your sister. The only thing that gave you hope was the way you two worked like a team that night.

As 1996 gave way to 1997 she’d squeezed your hand and given you a reassuring smile and then you two got to work.

Despite the late hour she’d called a friend from college and arranged for the two of you to move into her spare bedroom in Seattle that morning. You packed up your things - clothes, books, photos - everything you could squeeze into your sister’s Camry.

The two of you knocked on Mrs. Jenkins’ door in the early hours of the morning and explained you were leaving and why. Blessedly, she’d understood and said she’d handle the furniture you were leaving behind and close out your lease early with no charge. She’d kindly forced you both to eat some pancakes before you took off.

By the time the sun came up on the first day of the new year you were driving off to Seattle.

Nothing about your life feels familiar any more, but you’re here. You have a job you like. The friend of your sister’s you’re living with is incredibly warm and kind, and her apartment is cute and welcoming.

Sharing a bed with your sister is delightfully reminiscent of your childhood. So is going by Liz, from your favorite Jane Austen book growing up.

Besides, your sister’s right - the shakes do help. You smile at the comforting taste of chocolate and attempt to put Michael, Tacoma, and the past behind you.

Tuesday January 14th, 1997

You wake to the sound of your bedroom door closing softly. Blinking, you look at the clock and see it’s the ass crack of dawn, the sun isn’t even up yet.

Must be your sister heading off to UW Seattle to talk about transferring and finishing her Master’s over there instead.

She’s always been devoted to her studies, finishing her degree and working on her Master’s of Library Science around the jobs she’s taken to provide for the two of you. No matter how many times you’ve offered to contribute part of your earnings at the dance studio to rent and food she insisted that you keep it for your dance lessons and coaches.

Going to college never crossed your mind, honestly. Nothing makes you as happy as dancing does, and the studio let you work full time around your practice schedule. It was perfect. You could do it forever, you’d thought. The owner was already talking about letting you train as a teacher in the summer.

A nervous trickle of excitement runs through your veins when you think about having to start over at KOKO. New classes, new scene, new everything.

But you’re not someone afraid of a challenge. While other kids would stand on the dock, looking at the deep water in Lake Fenwick with trepidation, you’d run off the end, screaming in delight, without a second thought.

Just like then you figure it’s better to dive in rather than fussing about it. You force yourself to get up and stretch, warming up your muscles. It’s been two long weeks since you had the time or energy to dance and your body craves it.

You remember that there’s an Advanced Contemporary class at nine thirty and drag yourself into the kitchen.

The apartment is small and cozy, with bright yellow walls. And you love the thick row of Evergreen trees that run along the narrow road behind the building.

The door to your roommate’s room is also open and you shake your head, imagining the two of them already in the library at this early hour. She’s a godsend, you think, to invite you and your sister to stay with her like this.

No, she’s an actual angel - she even left you some coffee in the pot. You fill a mug, savoring the smell.

By the time you’re dressed and walking to the bus stop the winter sun is finally clearing the horizon. A group of people walk past you, clearly on their way home after a long night, arms around each other’s waists and shoulders. Their eyes are drooping and they yawn in between laughing, loudly recounting an amazing concert at somewhere called Mo’s.

How long has it been since you had a night out, with actual friends? you wonder. There’s plenty of people at the mall who seem nice. Even just being around your sister and roommate is more fun than you’ve had in ages.

Maybe this can be a fresh start in more ways than one, you think, cheered by the idea and feeling younger than you have in ages.

Paige greets you warmly when you get to the studio and head inside, pulling off your thick wool scarf.

‘How’s it going today?’ you ask.

She smiles and brushes her hair behind her ear. ‘Already slowing down, thank goodness. You’ve been a lifesaver.’

You glow at the compliment. ‘No, truly. You’re the lifesaver, this job is wonderful. And I can’t believe you’re letting me take free classes here. I had to pay for them at my old studio, so this is fantastic.’

‘It’s all part of my master plan to keep you here forever,’ she says with a wink. 

You laugh and run your hand along the counter. Already the place is starting to feel like home. 

‘Stephanie said she was hoping to get you into the teaching program at your old studio, would you be interested in doing that here?’

Your mouth drops open in surprise. ‘Really? I mean - you haven’t even seen me dance. I could be awful.’

She laughs out loud. ‘I looked you up online before the interview. I know some of your teachers and trust their opinions. It’s one of the things I try to cultivate here - to have my teachers help out on the desk or as trainers in between classes so they can make enough to be stable. I knew you were a fit right when I met you.’

‘That’s amazing, Paige. Really, thank you. I’d love to -’

You’re cut off by a group of older ladies who need some help figuring out the lockers. She pats your shoulder as she walks by. ‘The application is saved to the desktop. Just fill it out and pop it in my box when you’re done and I’ll work on scheduling you some shadow shifts, okay?’

All you can do is nod after her in surprise. You turn to head down the hall towards the dance studios and smack into something hard and imposing. You assume you’ve run into a wall in your excitement, but instead of an inanimate object you’re staring into deep brown eyes that belong to the intimidating man from yesterday.

You swallow and step back instinctively. He’s waved at Paige and the other front desk assistants enough that you know he’s not completely terrible. Not that he’s ever spoken to me before, or shown any interest in being nice, you think with a frown.

He raises an arrogant brow, a ghost of a smirk lingering in the corner of his lips as he watches you blatantly stare at him.

He smells too damn good for this early in the morning. The thought makes you cross your arms protectively in front of your chest and take a step back.

You’ve had enough of self-centered asses for one life, thank you very much. With a shake of your head you break the awkward staring contest between you two and stride down the hall, leaving him behind.

It’s still early, so you’re the only one in the expansive wood-floored studio aside from a slim woman with a silver braid halfway down her back. The door thumps closed behind you and she turns to greet you with eyes so clear and blue you’d swear she’s an elf, not a human.

‘Hi hi hi, welcome. Come on in,’ she says with a voice like a running river. The sense of calm and peace she exudes washes over you. ‘I’m Michelle and you’re… Liz right? From the front desk?’

You nod, unable to resist smiling at her. ‘Yes that’s me,’ you say with an awkward wave.

‘Come right over here love, put your stuff in one of the cubbies. I’ve heard many great things from Paige. I’m so excited to meet you,’ she says, emphasizing the last word warmly. The sun coming in through the large glass windows makes her hair appear to glow.

She takes you under her wing, asking about your dance background while she sets up the music and greets other dancers coming in for class.

She claps in delight when you tell her Contemporary was always your favorite. ‘Excellent, I’m so delighted you’re here. You might give my star student a run for his money if Paige is right about you.’ She grins and deep wrinkles form in the corners of her eyes.

With a nod of her head she points to one of the few men in the class, stretching in the corner in black sweatpants and a simple white shirt.

You jolt. Shit. Anyone but him. For the second time that morning the arrogant man catches you off guard.

Without his hat his hair is messier than it usually is when you’ve seen him moving in and out of the studio. Even the early morning sun can’t dim the intensity in his eyes and frown on his lips.

You regard her with a raised brow. ‘Him?’

She laughs out loud, a bright sound of amusement. ‘Yes, dear. Have you met Jongin? My taciturn boy has a much softer heart than you’d imagine. Contemporary shows you someone’s soul, I think, and his bark is worse than his bite. You’ll see,’ she says mischievously while the last of the class gets settled.

At your curious expression she clarifies. ‘He’s not my flesh and blood son, but he’s been taking classes with me for so long I feel like he’s one of mine.’

With a shrug you walk over to a spot against the windows and finish stretching, positioning yourself as far from him as possible. Michelle takes her place at the front of the class, clapping her hands in delight.

‘Welcome, welcome. If you’re a veteran of this class then you’ll know I always start with a word to inspire you for the day,’ she says, emphasizing her magical vibe with dramatic hand movements. ‘Today’s word is free, darlings. Let yourself feel into the music. Let your heart run free.’

No stranger to eccentric teachers, you smile at her. She’s so kind that any fear of taking classes at this new studio has almost vanished. The last remaining piece of unease is due to the almost six foot tall man who has somehow worked his way to stand next to you.

Jongin’s attention is on Michelle, but he sneaks a look at you as she begins teaching the choreography for the class. Electric, challenging eyes. Smirk, raised brow. His attention makes you feel like you’ve been engulfed in flames.

Stubbornly you drag your attention away from him and focus on following along with Michelle’s steps. Unfortunately you can see him crystal clear in the mirrored walls in front of you both.

With a sigh you accept that it’s pointless to try to avoid him when he dances. Clearly, he was born to do this, you think, watching him in the mirror, envious of the way light seems to play off his features.

But as you ease into the flow of the class, bending and moving effortlessly along with Michelle, you remember that you were made for this too.

Every time you spin he’s watching you like a hawk, an unreadable expression on his infuriatingly handsome face. He studies the lines of your body like he’s preparing to paint you. You’re just as bad, it’s impossible to take your eyes off him.

Begrudgingly you admit that Michelle is right - his every movement shows his heart, whether he knows it or not; emotion is conveyed by his hands, his neck, his back as he dances. 

There’s an intensity, a sensation of passion barely contained beneath his skin that makes your heart race. And a softness you can see, a tenderness he keeps behind his mask that feels like glimpsing a priceless gem buried amongst the rubble.

When you first saw him you thought he was mean and full of himself. Just like Michael. But now you realize they could not be more different. The same power flows through both men, to wildly different routes.

After what feels like seconds, Michelle is already wrapping up class. Her pleasant voice carries on in the background as you and Jongin face each other. The openness in his expression is bright and hopeful and feels too big for you to contain. Sweat glistens on his chest and you ache to lick it off.

You blink to yourself. Where did that come from?

You step back, shaken. He watches your face and something he sees there makes his guard slam shut. The warmth in his eyes turns distant again, his expression drops.

He turns away from you, a hard edge to his shoulders. He grabs his bag and jacket and pushes out the door without a backward glance, leaving you feeling like the sun has suddenly been extinguished.

Tuesday January 21st, 1997

Jongin groans to himself in the light seeping through the gaps in his blinds. For long moments he contemplates skipping Michelle’s class today. He’s managed to avoid you for a week, checking schedules when he knows you’re at lunch, exiting in a rush through the mall and taking the long way to his car.

You’ll be there again today, he can feel it in his bones. This is a problem for two reasons.

First - all he can do in class is watch you dance. Too many things slip through the careful barrier he’s formed to face the world when he’s around you. He feels too raw, too open, too much, and he hates feeling that vulnerable.

When you dance around him he can’t think straight. When he’s near you he has absolutely insane fantasies. Of pulling you into his arms and kissing you senseless. Of spilling all the desires inside of him. Of trailing his fingers down the curve of your neck when you fall asleep beside him.

He groans. As if you’d ever want someone like him. As if he’d ever be able to stand being around someone like you. You wear your heart on your sleeve and he imagines cartoon animals helping you get dressed in the morning.

The two of you are as opposite as can be.

Except when you dance, a traitorous part of his brain thinks. He leaps out of bed and heads to make some coffee before the thought can embed itself in his mind. Too late.

Secondly - Something about you makes him want to be a better man. He knows he’s a good man. Knows he’s responsible, honorable, helpful. Even if he can be a dick sometimes, he knows in his heart he’s good.

No, make him want to be a different kind of man, he corrects, pouring creamer into his coffee. Someone sweeter and kinder, more hopeful.

He can’t explain it, the feeling that rises in him when he passes by you.

Yes, it’s attraction. Of course it is. He wonders how anyone could look at your unruly hair, the curve of your waist, your shy smile when greeting new customers, the surprisingly loud way you laugh when someone makes a joke at the counter, and not fall in love with you.

Yes, it’s also a desire to protect you. Not in a condescending way, as if you’re weak and need to be sheltered from the world; but he wants to be the one to hold you late at night when you’re scared. The one to be by your side to make sure that life doesn’t make you hard and bitter, or rob you of the delight the seems to inhabit your being.

He barks out a laugh at himself and it turns into a groan as he rubs his eyes. He doesn’t even know you, but he wants to.

Given how rude he’s been there’s zero chance you want to know him. And you shouldn’t want to. You’re soft and sweet; he’s been made hard by his upbringing.

Navigating the foster system in Seattle had taken the ease and joy he’d felt as a child, smoothed off his expressive edges until he had molded himself into someone who could get by.

If it wasn’t for Michelle, he’d probably be a lost cause. When he became friends with her son she’d seen the way his eyes had lit up when she talked about dancing. She invited him to come and take some youth classes for free, the rest was history.

He gets by just fine these days. But for you he wants to be more, and he’s man enough to admit that you scare the shit out of him for just that reason.

He drags himself through his morning routine and braces himself to watch you again today. He will allow himself this weakness, watching you, savoring the way you watch him as well.

Even if he maintains his icy front and you never have to endure a conversation with him, he still gives himself the permission to imagine that there’s more between you. Dangerous as that might be.

Monday February 3rd, 1997

The drive to the mall with your sister gives you an unfortunate amount of time to worry about Michael. It’s been over a month. If he was anyone else he would take the hint and not look for you, but his obsessive tendencies and possessive nature make you convinced he’ll come looking for you.

Luckily, he’s not the most tech-savvy person around and the chance he’ll be able to track you down that way is slim. No one from your old life knows where you’re working or living, so there’s time. Aside from Paige who did your hiring, no one knows your real name.

You imagine his anger at finding your apartment cleared out and hope that he didn’t do anything to Mrs. Jenkins. The thought of him breaking a door sends a shudder through you. Maybe he punched a wall, which you’d seen him do many times.

The feeling of dread threatens to pull you down with it, but as you drive south on the freeway the Space Needle appears from around a curve. The bright blue waters of Lake Washington glow on this unseasonably sunny day and you turn up the radio, letting the sound of Nirvana wash away your fear.

Paige has finally entrusted you with running the desk by yourself and as you go through the opening paperwork you can't help but feel proud.

The day passes by as it normally does. Waves of moms and seniors in the morning hours. Business folks coming in on their lunch hour. Everyone leaving sweatier and happier than when they came in.

When the afternoon exercise classes start, the day picks up. You almost don't see him amongst the steady stream of people. But like always, his energy draws you.

Michael leans against the back wall, with the same quirked eyebrow and leather jacket he always wore. Funny how it's only been a month and already it feels like the two of you are strangers. His presence is a punch to your gut and you look around in dismay before you realize Paige is on her lunch.

Classes have started for the hour and the gym is separated from reception by a solid wall. No one is nearby to help.

Michael waits for a moment to pounce, his sharp eyes scanning the folks checking in and leaving. Your heart races, breath catching in your throat. All at once you feel like a mouse cornered by a hungry cat.

In a break in the crowd he stalks towards the desk. He leans against the counter, encroaching on your space as always. 'Miss me?'

The sneer on his lips is revolting and you wonder all over again how you ever were attracted to him, and how you tolerated his attention for so long.

'What are you doing here?' you finally manage to get out, your earlier calm and confidence vanished the moment your eyes met his.

His smile turns harsh, angry. 'Didn't think the pigs could hold me for long, did you?'

With another look around he leans closer over the desk and runs a finger down your cheek. You grimace and pull away, anxious energy clouding around you, pressing in as you wait to see what he wants.

'You left me.' His voice turns ice cold. 'It took me ages to find you.'

Fear roils in your stomach, dissolving any sense of security you've built up in the last month. With an attempt at a steadying breath you remind yourself that you’re not completely alone, you’re surrounded by people and there’s no way he can hurt you here.

Long seconds pass as he stares at you across the desk. Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you.

‘Hey, you okay?’ Paige asks from behind you and you’re so relieved you could have kissed her.

You swallow harshly, finally breaking Michael’s intent stare. When you look up she’s standing there with a stack of files in her arm, raising an eyebrow at Michael, who’s clearly not here to work out.

‘Can I help you?’ she says. Her tone takes on a hard edge as she watches the way he oozes possessiveness into the space.

He straightens, his eyes not leaving yours. With a wink he turns to leave. ‘Thank you for your assistance, miss. I’m excited to become a regular customer here.’

He pushes through the door and disappears into the busy sidewalk. The thump of the door as it closes breaks the spell on you and with a deep inhale you observe the slight shaking of your hands.

Paige moves to your side and takes you in. Her keen eyes miss nothing and she squats down next to you. ‘What’s wrong?’

You debate telling her, wondering if it’s best to just brush it off. But the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that you hoped you’d left behind in Tacoma is burning once more. Your sister is right, he won’t stop. Ever.

Ashamed that you’d ever been involved with someone like him and wishing for all the world that he could have just forgotten you, you decide to tell her. Meeting her kind brown eyes you summarize as best as you can.

‘That was my ex, Michael,’ you start, coughing to clear the lump in your throat. ‘I left Tacoma to get away from him, to start fresh. It’s why I asked you all to call me by my nickname. But he found me.’

Her eyes go wide in shock for a moment, brows pulling together in concern. ‘Did he hurt you?’

You shrug, unsure how to convey how he made you feel. ‘He was manipulative. Aggressive, demanding. He didn’t … not like that. He didn’t hit me, but he hurt me in other ways. I thought - it was silly, but I thought getting away from him I’d be safe. I don’t know what to do.’

Determination colors her features and she stands to pick up the phone. ‘You’re part of my staff now, and I don’t tolerate assholes. Especially not the possessive ex variety. I’m calling Leeteuk, he’s the head of mall security. Do you want to go home for the day?’

Instantly you want to hide, embarrassed. ‘No, no, no. Please don’t,’ you plead quietly. ‘I don’t want to make a scene. And I… it’s nice being here, surrounded by people right now.’

She pauses with her hand on the receiver. ‘I promise, no scene. I just want it to be on his radar in case that jerk comes back, okay? If you’re here and he comes in again, let me know or call LT or Dale. You’re safe here.’

‘Okay.’ Relief floods through you while she calls, telling the man on the phone that she’ll find a picture from the security footage and send it over.

You breathe deeply and let it out, turning to greet the kind older man approaching the desk, glad for the distraction. Paige hangs up the phone a moment later and gives you a nod as if to say it’s all going to be alright. ‘Let me know how I can help, I’m here for you.’

You nod. ‘Thank you, Paige. I mean it.’ 

She gives you a small smile and heads back to her office.

The day carries on as the afternoon rush picks up and slowly the sense of dread in your gut eases a fraction. He’s still out there, but now you feel like you’ve got an entire mall on your side.

Thursday February 6th, 1997

For two days you watch the sidewalk and the mall entrance nervously, waiting for him to show up again. It’s just like him, to keep you on pins and needles. Always at his beck and call.

When you told your sister what happened at lunch she looked like she could have breathed fire. She came over personally on her break that night to talk to Paige, and then LT and Dale.

She’s already called once today to check in, from the library at UW. Even if it’s kind and well intentioned, everyone’s protectiveness is starting to make you feel like a child, rather than a twenty-one year old woman.

By Thursday morning you’ve had enough, and resolve to put him out of your mind. Sitting up straighter, you go about the opening duties with your eyes firmly focused on the computer and the stacks of paper in front of you.

As the day goes on your smile feels more genuine, the vice grip of fear on your heart loosening enough for you to feel human again. By the time Paige swaps you so you can take your lunch break you’re feeling almost back to your normal, cheerful self.

Maybe it was a one time thing, you think, as you work your way around the tables in the food court carrying your pizza slices. Maybe he just wanted to stop by and assert his dominance before moving on with his life.

It feels too good to be true, you think, pulling your lip between your teeth.

At a table in the food court, right in front of you, is Jongin, sitting by himself. An empty plate on the counter, a paperback propped open on his extended leg. From here you can see the faint shadow on his jaw and can’t resist thinking about how his skin might taste.

It really is unfair that someone so hostile should be so damn attractive.

As if he’s heard your thoughts he looks up, his devastatingly seductive eyes visible this close. You open your mouth to say something. Anything. But abruptly, the hair stands up on the back of your neck.

Scanning the mall, you see him. Michael, standing in the middle of the entryway, thankfully looking towards the jewelry store at the other end. He’d look like just another shopper if you didn’t know him.

The drive from Tacoma is not short, especially at lunch time. He’s here for a purpose.

He’d definitely notice you through the crowd, even though it’s thick with people at this hour. The distance to KOKO is just too far. You stand there frozen for a beat, heart racing in your chest. Without thinking, you pull out the chair across from Jongin and sit down, lifting your hand to cover your face.

‘What’s wrong?’ comes a deep voice, softer than you’d have thought Jongin would have.

You look up and he’s closed his book, clearly on alert after what he finds in your expression. His hand reaches out to your knee but he looks at it with a frown and checks the motion.

‘I just - that man by the door, in the leather jacket. He’s my ex and he’s… I don’t know. Stalking me.’ You sigh. ‘I thought he’d leave me alone, but he keeps coming by.’

‘Does security know about it?’ he asks, looking to the right. The narrow hall where the security office is housed is visible next to the movie theater.

You nod. The fear that normally races through your veins when Michael’s around is simmering down. For all his hardness Jongin’s presence feels like a safety blanket.

‘I just need to get out of here. I’m so tired of seeing him.’ You peek through your fingers and see Michael has slipped his hands in his pockets, and he’s coming this way. ‘Crap.’

Jongin follows your eyes and his expression hardens when he locates who you’re watching. ‘Come with me,’ he says, standing and putting himself between you two.

He ghosts his hand down your back and motions you ahead, straight into Starlight Apparel. Behind his height you’re practically invisible.

A tall man with dark hair and model-like features sees you and Jongin. His eyes go wide with concern at your obvious distress and the intensity radiating off Jongin.

‘Hey, man. What’s up?’ he asks, coming around the counter.

‘Do you have somewhere she can hide?’ Jongin asks this man, who’s clearly a friend.

He nods, looking out into the mall and ushers you both through the store to the back, asking another employee to cover the register on the way.

He leads you down a short hallway behind the dressing rooms and opens a door that leads to a back room that looks like it doubles as a breakroom. ‘You’ll be safe back here, it’s just for employees. Would sitting help?’

With an attempt at a deep breath you collapse into one of the chairs, adrenaline fizzing out and leaving you feeling a million years old. Jongin stands by cautiously, looking ready to act if you say the word.

Jongin turns and gives the man a complicated handshake. ‘I’ve got it from here, thanks Sehun.’

‘No problem.’

Once the other man leaves Jongin crouches in front of you, giving you your space. A silent, protective presence.

After a moment your breathing evens out to the point where you can speak. ‘Sorry about that. I-’

‘It’s on him for being an asshole. Not you.’ His tone is insistent, like he needs you to understand that it’s not your fault and you nod, feeling tears well up. ‘I’m going to get security, are you okay here?’

You nod. ‘I’m fine. Thank you, Jongin.’

He jolts at the sound of his name, an unreadable expression on his face. After a beat he stands. ‘I’ll be back when the coast is clear, okay?’

He’s gone in a flash and you stare at the space he occupied. With a disbelieving laugh you realize it’s the first time you’ve spoken to him after weeks of working together.

By the time you’ve finished your pizza Jongin is back with a red-haired man named Leeteuk who tells you that unfortunately, Michael managed to vanish once again.

The rest of the day you notice Jongin keeping an eye on you. You do your best to think that he’s just being kind, but against logic you allow yourself to enjoy his protectiveness.

Monday February 10th, 1997

Your sister is running late after closing. You could head through the mall to see what’s keeping her, but it’s an unseasonably warm night and you decide to go and wait by the car.

The mall sits across from a large, dimly lit park. It’s absence of light and noise is a rarity for downtown. The other buildings on the streets on either side of the mall are filled with crowded restaurants and concert venues, bookstores open late, and a tall, vibrant building advertising the best karaoke in Seattle.

Hands in your pockets, you lean back against the car and stare up at the stars. Despite its technology boom, Seattle seems to be resisting modernization in subtle ways, clinging to its grunge and anti-establishment vibes by its’ teeth.

The juxtaposition of new and old, hip and classical, makes you feel like you too can be anything you choose.

You think about the application to be a teacher trainee that sits in your bag with Paige’s stamp of approval. You think about the Sunday morning breakfasts you’ve gotten into a routine of sharing with your sister and roommate. You think about how excited you are for Michelle’s class tomorrow.

And you think about the way you feel like the center of the Universe when Jongin’s focus is on you. Despite the threat of Michael, you can’t find it in you to be unhappy.

This time of night on a Monday the parking lot is mostly deserted, a bubble of quiet despite the activity and noise that surround it.

Of course Michael would choose now to find you. He always was smarter than you’d given him credit for.

A weight settles abruptly next to you against the car and you turn, startled by the sudden appearance of a person next to you.

In quick succession you notice the uncharacteristic stubble on his face, the red rims to his eyes. Michael’s hand drops to the back of the car, his fingers reaching to possessively play with the hair at the nape of your neck, making you recoil.

‘Finally, we’re alone,’ he growls against your ear, pulling you flush against his side.

‘Michael -’ his name leave you in a high-pitch, fear coloring your veins as you look around in desperation.

You swallow harshly, focusing on keeping your breathing steady. His bike waits in a spot a few spaces down. You were so caught up in daydreaming you didn’t recognize the sound.

‘Why are you here?’ you ask, shoving against his side with both hands. His stomach feels like steel and all you succeed in doing is pissing him off. 

‘What, you think you can manage without me, baby?’ he taunts, stepping into your space. ‘You’re coming with me.’

When you were younger the smell of his cologne used to thrill you. The patches on his leather jacket, the motorcycle, the dismissive sneer; it all used to make you weak in the knees. The fact that someone so handsome and larger than life wanted you made you feel special, desirable.

But now, as an adult woman, you see these things for what they are. You see him for who he is - a power-hungry, manipulative asshole. 

Being away from his overwhelming presence was like Dorothy stepping into Oz, the world ceased to be black and white and expanded into full color once again.

Warm and steadying anger seems into you. You’re done with letting him affect you. ‘Stop it, Michael. You shouldn’t be here. Get out.’ 

You raise your hands to his chest, pushing yourself steadily away from him and fixing him with your most determined stare. He laughs, an ugly sound of dismissal. Like he can’t imagine that you’d want anything in life more than you want him. 

‘It’s over.’ Despite the conviction in your voice, you hope he can’t see the way your hands shake as they drop to your sides. 

His mouth twists to the side in a cruel smile. When he moves to corner you again someone steps between you two, blocking him from your sight.

‘She told you to leave,’ comes a deep, steady voice.

‘Jongin?’ you ask, stepping around to see that his expression has turned sharp. He radiates power, seeming taller and broader than you remembered.

Michael sneers, standing taller. ‘Did you find someone else to fuck you already, baby?’

‘Get out of here. Now.’ Jongin commands. ‘Security is on their way.’

His recent brush with the law seems to be fresh in his mind as Michael sizes up Jongin, undoubtedly weighing his desire to claim you against wanting to avoid getting in trouble with the law again. 

‘Fine. I’m going,’ he says harshly. 

Surrender chafes against him and his hand hovers over his jacket pocket in a way that makes you step forward to hold onto Jongin’s arm. You want to protect him, or have him protect you. Probably both. 

Jongin looks down at you with those intense eyes of his and reaches to hold your hand. 

‘Just know you’re still mine. That will never change,’ Michael says, looking at your clasped hands like he wants to punch something. He jams his helmet on his head and drives off. 

Jongin gives your hand a squeeze, his face softening. ‘Are you okay?’

You know you shouldn’t, but for a moment you let yourself sag in relief against his shoulder. ‘I- thank you, for being here.’ 

‘I didn’t like the look of him, the way he made you tense up. Can I admit I’ve been keeping a watch out for you since last time?’

You pull back and smile up at him, holding his focus. ‘I know.’

He looks down, an embarrassed smile on his lips. So often he looks away, disappears around corners. Tonight you refuse to let him back away without letting him know how much it means to you that he’s been there for you. 

‘Jongin, I -’ Movement behind him draws your attention and you see your sister hurrying across the parking lot. She stops next to you, instinctively moving to your other side and sizing up Jongin. 

‘Hi, I’m here. Sorry I’m late, this dad forgot to pick up his son and I had to drop him off,’ she says slightly out of breath, looking between you and Jongin. 

‘Something happened. What did I miss?’ She looks at him suspiciously and he lets go of your hand.

Jongin sighs and runs a hand through his hair. ‘Her ex showed up.’

‘I could kill that man. This is ridiculous.’ She makes a noise like an angry lioness and you almost want to laugh, imagining her tearing into Michael. 

Jongin nods. ‘I agree. I don’t think the police would be able to do much, and security is already on alert. I’d… like to walk you to your car until he’s dealt with, if that’s alright.’

Your sister raises a brow. ‘And who are you? I’m sure you’re a good guy, but as you can see, I’m a little protective of her.’

Jongin laughs out loud at her feisty tone. The warm, rich sound is a balm, chasing away the lingering unease Michael’s hands had stirred up.

He reaches out his hand formally and shakes your sister’s hand. ‘My name is Jongin Kim. I’m a hip hop instructor and personal trainer at KOKO. No ulterior motives, I just want to keep your sister safe from that creep.’

She sizes him up, nodding when she doesn’t find anything alarming in her perusal. ‘We drive together Saturday, Sunday, and Monday when I work. Thursday and Friday she buses by herself. And I know she’s been here on her days off taking classes.’

He looks like he’s mentally mapping out a schedule. ‘Sounds good, I’ll meet you guys at the entrance the days you drive and walk you.’ He turns to you. ‘I’ll drive you home the rest of the week.’

Your jaw drops. ‘I can’t ask that of you, it’s too much. I don’t want to inconvenience you.’

He pulls his keys from his pocket thoughtfully. ‘You didn’t ask. I offered. I practice a lot when I’m not working, so I’m here all the time, anyways.’

‘That would be very kind of you, I appreciate it.’ Your sister says, but he keeps his eyes locked on yours.

‘For how long?’ you ask softly.

He sighs. ‘I grew up with a lot of people like that. Unfortunately I think he’s going to do something that puts him away for a long time. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t involve you.’

You nod and he lingers for a moment before turning to head for his car with a wave. 

‘Well, that was unexpected,’ your sister says. She’s folded her arms across her chest and bumps you good-naturedly with her shoulder. ‘You didn’t tell me you had… a bear to protect you.’

You laugh, tension easing from your muscles. ‘That’s a good way to describe him.’

She walks around to get in the driver’s seat. ‘Want to tell me what’s up with you two?’ she asks over the roof of the car. 

‘I’ll tell you when I figure it out myself, deal?’ He makes you feel every emotion under the sun it seems like. You’re a spinning wheel when it comes to him, and you have no idea where the arrow will land. 

‘Deal.’ She laughs and slides into the seat. 

Wednesday February 12th, 1997

Jongin pushes into the studio with his shoulder. One of the yoga instructors is manning the desk this morning, filling in on your off day. With a nod of his head to her he keeps walking down the hallway. As always, he focuses on the choreography for the class he’s going to teach today, going over it in his head.

The door to the manager’s office opens and he nods to Paige as he passes by.

‘Jongin, just who I was hoping to see. Do you have a minute?’

‘For you? Always,’ he teases. He’s known Paige just as long as Michelle and he’d happily take a bullet for either of them.

She snorts and rolls her eyes. ‘Liz from reception is going to start shadowing for her teacher training. I told her she could start with your class today, I hope that’s alright.’

He sighs and runs a hand through his messy hair. Of course the Universe keeps finding more ways to throw the two of you together. He braces himself. ‘Yep. Fine with me, I’d be happy to show her how we do things here.’

‘Excellent. I knew I could count on you,’ she says with a smile.

He shakes himself and turns, heading for the locker room. Amusement makes him smile and he sighs, thinking he’ll always be out of his depths when it comes to you.

A familiar voice calls to him while he puts away his stuff in his locker.

‘What’s up man?’ Yixing says, slinging an enthusiastic arm around Jongin’s shoulder.

He grins and draws his friend into a handshake and a hug.

'Long time no see, are you finally taking classes again?' Jongin asks, pulling his chosen CD from the stack .

'Yeah, I'm trying to get back into it. Work was insane over the holidays and all this Valentine’s prep has me wound up like crazy. I'm ready to sweat, so make sure it's a good class,' he laughs and pretends to punch his friend in the shoulder.

He and Yixing catch up as they enter the studio and he starts setting things up for class. The CD in the player and he queues up for repeat the track he’s chosen for today's beginning/intermediate Hip Hop class - ‘My Way’ by Usher.

A few regulars nod and wave while he and Yixing stretch, warming up. But when you walk in, looking like you stepped out of his dreams, he swallows hard.

Yixing notices his lingering stare as he watches you put your stuff in a cubby and begin walking over. 'Who's that?'

Jongin ignores the obvious insinuation in his tone. 'Our new receptionist.'

'Aaaah, you sweet on her?' Yixing laughs at the death glare he receives. 'Dude, I'm your friend, you can tell me anything. You know that.'

You give him a tentative wave as you approach. Yixing gets up and mouths ‘go for it’ behind your back to Jongin.

He wants to laugh at how different things are, in just the short few weeks since you started here. So much has happened that he isn’t able to keep his distance. He decides to greet this change with a reckless sort of enthusiasm.

‘So I hear you’re in teacher training?’ he says, wincing at how overly excited he sounds.

‘Yes and I’m so nervous about it,’ you laugh, twisting your hands together at your waist.

‘Why? You’re an amazing dancer,’ he says. It’s obvious to him that you know what you’re doing.

You blush at the compliment and instantly he wants to give you a thousand more. It usually doesn't phase him anymore, being watched. He knows the feeling of all eyes on him when he teaches classes or performs. Ever since he realized he could dance in middle school, people have been watching him.

First it was other dancers, people on the street; at clubs and competitions and classes. And now, thanks to a lucky break from Paige, he has a steady flow of teaching opportunities at KOKO.

People have been watching him for years, but nothing prepares him for how exposed and vulnerable your attention makes him feel.

‘You’ll do amazing. I know it. The first class you just shadow, so there’s no pressure. Just get into the flow of how I run the class. Follow me and do what I do.’

You nod and salute him. ‘Okay, I can do that. I’m sure you’re an amazing teacher. People call asking when your classes are all the time.’

He suddenly wants to show off for you. To pull out his most amazing choreography. He wants to impress you, he realizes. He hasn’t wanted to do that in ages.

He fights a grin. You’re so open and sweet he doesn’t think you have any idea of the effect you have on him. You check him out, not the least bit discreet, and give him a mysterious smile before taking your place. Okay, maybe you have some idea, he thinks.

He greets the class in his usually succinct way, making a conscious attempt to smile more than he normally does. Yixing looks between the two of you and gives Jongin a shit-eating grin.

He rolls his eyes and avoids his friend, walking over to press play on the CD.

'All right everyone, we're going to start off with a simple combination. Follow along with me and don't worry if you don't pick it up right away, we'll do it a few times.'

He turns, facing the wide wall of mirrors. As if drawn by your energy he meets your gaze in the glass where you hover to his right.

He's learned you wear your emotions on your sleeve. When the desk is busy you wear a broad, warm, welcoming smile that almost covers the overwhelm of many people asking questions.

This time, watching you as the opening beats of the track begin, he gets to see you be your full self again. You breathe, relaxing into the rhythm, a slight smile playing on your lips. He knows that look well, as he's sure he wears it whenever he dances.

Like in Michelle’s class, you both look more relaxed. The world makes more sense in the studio to him, and to you as well apparently. The light streaming in through the windows, the crisp even lines of the wood floors, the endless mirrors. Even the cubbies at the back that will always smell a bit like old socks make him feel at home.

He narrates along with his movements. Beginning/Intermediate classes always draw a mixed crowd. He likes to make things as clear and easy to follow as possible for all levels while paying attention to people who need extra help.

There are people like Yixing who have experience dancing taking the class for fun. Older folks trying to stay active in retirement. Ladies groups looking for fun new workouts. Younger kids just getting started.

Once he's finished with the first block of steps he pauses, chastising himself for the way he can't seem to look away from you.

'That was great everyone, let's try it a few more times before the song restarts,' he says as the music continues.

He weaves his way through the people in attendance with you on his heels, correcting movements gently, offering encouragement. You repeat the steps for a kind-looking older man and woman. The smile you give them when they get it right is so warm and luminous he doesn’t even see Yixing until his friend snaps his fingers in Jongin’s face.

‘To quote the great philosopher Usher, my friend: You got it bad.’

Jongin glares at him and he motions for you to join him at the front again. Yixing’s soft laughter follows and he knows he’s never going to hear the end of this.  

Once the class ends he takes time saying goodbye to all the students. Even if he is a bit more reserved of a person he still wants the studio to look good. He wants people to enjoy his classes and always makes the effort.

As the last person leaves he watches you putting your coat on. For long seconds he wonders if he should speak the desire battling in his chest into existence or if it’s too soon or too awkward or too… something.

He buys time by grabbing the CD. Finally, you slip your bag over your shoulder and he comes to lean against the edge of the cubbies in what he hopes is a casual way.

‘Are you hungry?’ he mumbles.

‘What was that?’ You turn and look at him, a warmth in your expression as you regard him.

He clears his throat, trying again. ‘Sorry. Are you hungry? I’m starving and was thinking about getting something to eat at Flanagan’s, the pub in the mall.’

Pink tints your cheeks and you nod, suddenly finding an excuse to look anywhere but at him. ‘That would be perfect, I’d love to.’

He can’t help but fist pump in celebration in his mind. He coughs, composing himself. ‘Awesome, we can talk about the teacher training,’ he says with an attempt at nonchalance.

You follow him through the mall towards the Irish pub and he thanks the heavens that you work together and have plenty to talk about. Going over the class, reviewing what you learned, covering your dance background and his. It all fills the space that would exist on a normal first date.

Date? Where did that come from? he wonders over the last of his dinner. He shakes his head to clear it and has to ask you to repeat your question.

‘What are you working for?’ you say again, taking a small sip of your cider.

He tilts his head in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Aside from paying bills, what’s the goal?’ you ask with a curious look, as if you’re trying to figure him out. ‘What’s your dream?’

He takes a deep breath, holding it before letting it out. It’s something he’s kept locked away, hidden down deep. ‘I’d love to teach in schools. Open my own studio or something. Maybe.’

You grin at that, a dimple appearing in one of your cheeks that makes him want to kiss you. He shakes himself, continuing on at your encouragement.

‘Dance saved me. Gave me a home, a family, a purpose. I’m doing alright for myself now and I’d love to be able to do that for someone else in return. Give some other kids a safe space.’

He blushes and quickly takes a drink of his beer. ‘What about you?’

You frown, looking adorably puzzled. ‘Oh. I haven't really thought about it. Can I have a minute to think?’

He nods and motions with his hand. ‘We’ve got plenty of time, no pressure.’

You love that about him, that he doesn’t rush. Doesn’t push.

You’ve never seen him so open and animated before. You can’t believe you used to think he was unfriendly. Around you he’s practically a teddy bear. A brooding, intense teddy bear, but a teddy bear nonetheless.

While he eats you contemplate his question.

Perhaps it came with being the baby of the family, the younger sister, that you were given the rose-colored glasses to wear. That you were shielded from a lot of harsh realities growing up.

Maybe there was tension and stress at home when you were young, but you never felt it. All you remember from the early days are laughing and dancing and family dinners.

Nights spent reading every book you could get your hands on with your sister, your cold feet touching hers under the covers of your shared bed, making her scream until you both dissolved into giggles.

Going on long walks through the trails near your apartment, watching the boats go by on the water. Your parents’ proud faces in the audience at your dance recitals.

It was all wonderful, until it wasn’t. Until the day in 1989 when your parents were caught in the crossfire of a shootout in Hilltop; the wrong place at the wrong time. The day your family went from four to two.

Where once there was family game nights and pancakes on Sunday mornings with your father between his graveyard shift at one job and his afternoon shift at another, there was your sister, younger than you are now, sitting at the dining room table trying to pinch pennies to make things work.

She’d never caved, never given into despair, at least not where you could see. And you were determined to hold yourself together for her, even if you couldn’t do so for yourself.

The two of you mourned together, scraped by with your father’s meager pension from work. She started working nights in addition to her college classes and never let you miss school or stop dancing.

At sixteen you started working the front desk at the studio you took dance classes from. Your first job, and the place where you met Michael.

Coincidentally, it was the beginning of a five year period where you started to hide everything from your sister. Out of shame, embarrassment, or some intuitive understanding that she would forbid you from seeing him if she found out what he was really like.

Now that you’re out on your own, free of the dark cloud of Michael, everything feels new. Tentative. Raw.

What do I want? The answer is so apparent to you it feels almost silly.

‘I guess… just a home. Not literally a house,’ you laugh. ‘But that would be nice. All I want is a safe place for the people I love. That’s what my parents gave my sister and I growing up and I’d like that again. I know I’m young, lots of my friends said I should want to travel or go to school or make it big dancing or something. But that’s never been the most important thing to me.’

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with an intense, unreadable look that he seems to save just for you.

You feel heat come to your cheeks and take a big drink of your cider to hide your embarrassment. ‘That’s silly though. Forget I said anything,’ you mutter.

A soft pressure rests on the hand you have laying on the table and you’re shocked to see that he’s placed his hand on top of yours. ‘It’s not silly at all,’ he says softly. ‘It sounds beautiful.’

For long seconds the two of you stay like that, the attraction you feel towards him rises, surprising but not entirely unwelcome. It’s a sensation of being thrown overboard into a sea and getting lost in the waves.

‘You guys all set? It’s just about closing time,’ the waiter asks, holding the check, oblivious to the moment he’s interrupting.

You and Jongin talk over each other, fumbling for your wallets. Neither of you can look the other properly in the eye as you pay and walk to the car. What happened feels too meaningful to acknowledge in the quiet of the night.

He turns on the radio while he drives you home to fill the space as you both get lost in your thoughts. After all you’ve shared with each other tonight, it seems silly that he doesn’t know your real name.

‘Can I tell you something?’ you ask quietly when he pulls up to the apartment.

He nods, giving you a small smile. ‘You can tell me anything.’

‘Liz isn’t my real name. It’s… a nickname I’ve been going by to hide from Michael, but I guess it’s pointless now.’

When you tell him your real name he nods and pleasure colors his cheeks, as if he’s honored you trust him with it. He reaches out to briefly rest his hand on top of yours before bringing it back to rest on his thigh, always being respectful. For all his toughness and intensity, the more you get to know him the more you’re surprised by how his sweetness and kindness draw you in and make you feel safe.

‘Goodnight Jongin,’ you say quietly.

‘Goodnight.’ He repeats your name, softly, trying it out on his tongue while he holds your focus.

Finally, he blinks and settles back against the seat and you step out of the car. You can feel his eyes on you the entire walk up the steps to the front door of the complex, protecting you even if he can’t be next to you.

Tuesday February 25th, 1997

Yixing and Sehun drag Jongin from his sleeping with an early morning phone call, demanding he come work out with them.

Without any regard for his sleep-deprived state, Yixing goes right to the heart of the situation while spotting for Jongin on the bench press.

‘You like her.’ He doesn’t say it like a question, because it’s not. The look on Jongin’s face confirms it and Yixing barks out a laugh. ‘I knew it!’

Jongin sighs, resting the weight on the handles and looking up at the triumphant face of his friend. ‘I can’t like her.’

Sehun pauses in the middle of bicep curls, his brow furrowing in confusion. ‘Dude, why not?’

‘Well, we work together for one thing,’ Jongin says with a groan.

Yixing laughs. ‘I know all about that, my friend. Doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings for her.’

Jongin sits up, running a frustrated hand through his messy hair. ‘She also has this asshole ex who keeps showing up and harassing her, Sehun you were there. I can’t ask her out now. A, she deserves someone who just wants to take care of her without an ulterior motive. B, I have no desire to be a rebound. I like her way too much for that.’

Sehun meets Yixing’s look of victory and shakes his head with amusement.

‘Look, man. All I’m saying is you’ve been single forever. You are absolutely not a creep taking advantage of her. And if she does put you in the rebound zone, that’s her loss,’ Sehun says.

Jongin opens his mouth to object but Yixing cuts him off, raising his hands in surrender. ‘You two seem to get along, that’s all we’re saying. It’s worth a shot right? When are you seeing her again?’

‘I see her pretty much everyday. I either walk her and her sister to her car or I drive her home when her sister has school stuff to do.’

Sehun makes a noise of frustration. ‘Bro, just invite her to Shari’s next time we all go. She’ll realize you have excellent taste in friends. You can charm her with your dancing. She’ll want to jump your bones. Foolproof plan.’

Yixing shoves Sehun playfully in the shoulder. ‘Arrogance aside, he’s right. Shari’s is perfect. Casual, fun, cool.’

‘Right. Casual. Sure,’ Jongin sighs and resumes his workout.

Thursday March 6th, 1997

While he waits for you to finish your closing tasks he walks around the parking lot.  He slides his hands into his pockets, staring up at the night sky. It’s finally starting to become warm enough to function without a thick jacket.

His friend’s words run through his mind, urging him to ask you out. But he laughs to himself, thinking how that’s not his way. With dancing and success, sure, he can work his ass off, push himself to be the best.

But even though his friends always tell him girls are falling over themselves to be with him, he’s never felt confident in that way. Or even really interested. Before you.

He loves his body, loves what it does and what it lets him express through movement. He’ll even admit that he finds it aesthetically pleasing, toned in the right places and well-proportioned.

But he’s always felt that beauty has nothing to do with appearance. Want, attraction, and desire for him live in motion. In what someone does, how they treat others, how they move through life. Who they are beneath the skin.

He sighs. If only he could dance to show you how he feels. Maybe he’ll get a chance to, tomorrow night.

The sound of the bell tinkling and the door closing makes him turn around.

‘Hey, you ready?’ you ask, smiling at him.

‘Yeah, absolutely,’ he says, hitting the light switch in the office and following you out the door.

He watches you while you walk to his car, when he thinks you won’t see. Tonight he lets himself wonder what it would be like if you were his, fully. Officially. What it would be like if he was the one who got to wake up beside you. Go to sleep next to you. And everything in between.

He’s noticed that your eyes dart around the parking lot less frequently now that it’s been a few weeks since Michael showed up. He takes it as reassurance that the field is clear, so to speak.

He struggles to find words, never his strong suit, and the warmth in your eyes when you look at him makes the limited ones he has scatter from his mind.

‘The stars are nice tonight,’ you supply, glancing up and grinning.

‘It always surprises me how you can still see them in Seattle, even in the city.’

You slide into the car and he follows, managing to find his bravery. ‘Do you want to go to Shari’s with me tomorrow?’

‘Sharis?’

He lets out his nerves as a quiet laugh. ‘Sorry, it’s a dance club nearby. Me and Sehun and some of our other friends go sometimes. Baekhyun over at the movie theater decided that the weather is finally decent enough for us all to come out of our shells. I’d love it if you joined us. It should be fun.’

The smile you give him makes his palms sweat. ‘Absolutely, that sounds fantastic!’

Friday, March 7th, 1997

You’re unable to convince your sister to come with you to the club, she pleads out saying she’d love to but she’s swamped by course work. She somehow managed to get the school to let her finish up her last two quarters from a distance at the Seattle location.

Your roommate is coming from a mixer for her internship, but she’s meeting you in a while at the club. Once, you might have been nervous to go in alone, but you know that Jongin will be inside somewhere, waiting for you.

How lovely it is, to be wanted by someone you want, you think. Someone good and honest and real. You remember the way Jongin checked you out yesterday, asked you here tonight, somehow both confident and unsure. It feels like you’re glowing from within.

‘You think he wants you for anything other than sex, dumb bitch. That dress is short enough, you’re clearly asking for it.’

Michael’s voice is so loud and harsh in your mind that you spin on the street in search of him. But there’s no sign of him. You frown, upset that his presence still clouds your thoughts.

Once and for all you wish you could be free of him. As with anything in life, you tell yourself it will get easier with time. With a deep fortifying breath you shake it off and stride right up to the gleaming black wood doors.

The bass of the club isn’t just something you can hear, standing outside the front doors nervously fixing your dress, it’s something you can feel. The club seems to pulse with energy in the chilly night.

Finally, you can’t procrastinate any longer and push through the doors of the club. The bouncer is a man at least three times your size with two full sleeves of tattoos, showcased by the tank top he wears. With a nod he hands your ID back to you and waves you through.

Salt-N-Pepa thumps from the speakers on the dance floor and you immediately notice it’s packed to the brim with people dancing. You look around and don’t see anyone familiar, but then a tall head catches your attention.

Sehun turns and waves to you, his normally stern face breaking into a warm smile. He nudges someone next to him and Jongin appears from the mass of bodies.

His normal casual street style is swapped tonight for a pair of close-fitting black pants, a fitted white shirt, and a long gold cross earring you’ve never seen before. His messy hair is brushed back out of his face.

He walks over to you with heat in his eyes, taking in your curves, showed off by the purple dress you’re wearing tonight.

Once he reaches you the sheen of sweat on his neck becomes visible and the spicy smell of his cologne warms you. He leans to you and his breath cascades along your shoulder, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

‘Hey, you made it!’ he calls over the chorus of ‘Whatta Man.’

‘I did!’ you say, resisting the urge to touch him or lick his neck or something equally insane.

The way he discreetly checks out your legs and cleavage lets you know that his thoughts are along the same line. ‘Come on, you can put your stuff at the table.’

You nod and he ghosts a hand along your low back to guide you towards a table in the corner where you recognize some other people from the mall. Jongin takes your purse and adds it to the cluster of them at the back of the booth.

He introduces you to Baekhyun, Hitchcock, Yixing, and two other men, one tall and one shorter, whose names you don’t catch as they’re deep in a discussion about ‘a pop/punk revival of epic proportions.’

You grab drinks at the bar, laughing as you talk about the wild pair of high school boys who came to class this week. Once you’re finished, you and Jongin both look at the dance floor eagerly.

‘Do you want to dance?’ Jongin asks, clearly alive in this atmosphere.

You’d say yes to anything right now, even if he asked you to jump into the sun. When you nod he wraps his hand tentatively around yours, waiting for you to squeeze back before he grins and guides you to the floor.

He moves around you as the song ends, an intensity and focus in his eyes you’re finally starting to understand he saves just for you. It ignites something deep in your chest that makes you see visions of his teeth on your neck, his hands on your thighs, sliding up underneath your dress. You whine and blessedly the sound is lost in the noise of the club.

Abruptly you laugh, shaking your head. Has it been so long that you forgot what clubs do to you? Or is it just the effect that Jongin has? Either way, when the next song begins you don’t know whether to curse the Universe or blow it kisses in thanks.

When ‘Pony’ by Ginuwine starts people around you cheer and move closer together. The DJ at the booth looks out on the crowd, a firm line to his brows and a faint smile on his lips. He seems to ride the enthusiasm of the crowd. It certainly feels like it’s suddenly hotter in the room when Jongin steps into your space tentatively.

He watches you hungrily, waiting for your lead; looking both ready to consume you and ready to step back if you gave the slightest sign you didn’t want him to touch you. Something tight and afraid in your chest melts and you nod at him, moving closer in return and answering his silent question.

Neither of you need words, it’s far too loud in here to understand each other anyways. The magnetic pull between you two finally draws tighter and his hands gently settle on your hips at the same moment yours grasp his shoulders.

Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been in the same classes for weeks, keenly aware of each other’s bodies. Maybe it’s the fact that the two of you are clearly attracted to each other. Or maybe it’s the song itself. Whatever the reason, you and Jongin find your rhythm fast and easy, moving together to the beat.

You want to sink into him, to slide your hands under the collar of his shirt and touch the muscles of his back. He makes you feel both safe and wild does things to you that you never felt with Michael. His thumbs press into the sensitive flesh of your hips and you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

For the entirety of your relationship with Michael he felt like a predator, stalking you, laying claim to you. You never felt a desire to claim him in return, to choose him. Only in hindsight are you realizing how messed up that was, to only be an object to someone, a prize to be won like Jasmine in Aladdin. 

You pull back to look at Jongin and can’t help the broad smile you give him. With him, you’re definitely not just prey to be captured, though he seems more than willing to lay chase.

You’re not just the mouse. Tonight, with him, you’re also the cat, and you’re ready to pursue him as well. 

Turning in his arms you move and press your back to his solid chest. He picks up right where you left off, his strong hands grasping your hips and finding the rhythm again. 

As the song goes on you relax into the bass of the beat, reveling in the sensation of being in his embrace. Feeling bold, you reach an arm up to hold onto his neck, pulling yourself flush against him. He doesn’t entirely manage to stifle the groan he makes and you bite your lip around your smile.

Sometime in between dancing to ‘No Diggity’ by Blackstreet and ‘Ready or Not’ by the Fugees the two of you grab another drink.

Standing at the bar, listening to Baekhyun tell some dramatic story, the only thing you can focus on is the way Jongin’s fingers toy with the skin of your hip. All you can feel through the thin fabric is heat and that desire low in your body feels like it reaches a fever pitch.

By the time your roommate arrives, looking like an Empress in a gold dress that is both classy and sexy, you’re absolutely feeling yourself. You wave to her and mouth to Jongin that you’re going to go talk to her. 

He nods and brushes his sweaty hair off his forehead, motioning towards the groups table with a nod. You can’t help but admire him as he walks away.

‘So it’s going well?’ your roommate asks in your ear, startling you.

She laughs, knowing full well that she just caught you checking him out. ‘Let’s get a drink!’ She links her arm through yours and pulls you to the bar.

The two of you find stools on the far end where it’s quieter and she fills you in on her internship mixer - boring - and you tell her about your night - decidedly not boring. She looks to the table the mall folks are occupying and stifles a laugh.

‘Girl, the way he’s watching you…’ she raises her eyebrows knowingly.

‘I know. I’m - I don’t know, I really, really like him. And I almost licked his neck while we were dancing so umm I’m clearly not opposed,’ you say. When you look at the table Jongin is laughing against Sehun’s shoulder and your heart does that melty thing again.

‘But…’ she prods. She’s heard the full saga of you and Michael and in the last few weeks she’s become one of your closest friends. ‘What’s holding you back?’

You run your hands through your hair and sigh. ‘I just ended things with my ex a few weeks ago. This whole thing with Jongin is… amazing. Wonderful. Electric. But it feels too real to rush into it when I’m still so fresh off of... you know. We were together for years, and I was so young.’

‘If you’re not ready, just tell him. He sounds like the kind of guy who would understand,’ she says.

The alcohol makes you both bold and cautious. Your mind and body want different things. One wants space to think, the other wants to rip off Jongin’s clothes and press yourself against him until there’s no space between you two.

‘I’ll figure it out,’ you sigh and finish your drink.

She pats your shoulder in amusement and downs the last of her drink as well. You walk her over to the table to introduce her to the rest of the group and it turns out that she and Hitchcock took a class together a few years ago at UW.

While they catch up Jongin reaches for your hand, rubbing your palm. He motions to the dance floor and raises a brow. You nod and smile at him, squeezing back.

When you resume your positions - his hands holding your thighs, your arms around his neck - he moves in closer, resting his forehead against yours. He draws his lip between his teeth to chew on, as if deciding something. You watch the motion and want to whine at the intensity of your attraction to him.

He watches you closely. You can feel his warm breath across your lips. When he reaches a hand to cup your cheek he bends closer. Something inside you commands you to stop him. A sense that this wouldn’t be right yet.

Gently, you lift your hands to his shoulders and ease him back. ‘Jongin, you have no idea how much I want to be with you.’ You call over the music, holding his gaze so he can see how much you mean it. ‘How much I want to kiss you right now.’

His brows pull together, his thumb stroking your cheek seemingly against his intention. ‘I’m sensing a but here.’

You take his hand in yours and pull him towards the hallway that leads to the bathroom. He puts himself between you and the club, protecting you like always. Now it’s your turn to protect him.

‘I can’t ask you to wait for me, but I need some time,’ you start. ‘I just want to stand on my own two feet for a while. You met Michael, you saw what he was like. He took over my entire life.’ His expression turns sharp at the mention of Michael.

‘I need to separate out what parts of me belonged to him and what’s truly me. I spent so long defining myself by what he wanted I just - I want to know who I am first. Can you understand that?’

He nods, his expression softening. This time when he gently cups your face he presses a kiss to your forehead, so softly you can barely feel it. But oh, do you feel it.

You hold onto his arms and pull back to look him dead in the eyes, needing to make sure he understands what you’re saying. ‘I want to make sure I’m completely myself, I want to be able to give you all of me. It feels really important.’

The corner of his mouth lifts and his eyes are warm when he meets yours. Gently, he takes your hands in his. For long seconds he simply watches you, smile blooming into a grin as he rubs his thumbs over your palms.

As surely as Michael did, you feel him claiming you. Not with aggression and words and possessiveness, but with a tenderness that warms you from your toes to the tip of your head.

He lifts them to his lips, not breaking eye contact as he presses a kiss to each palm. Warmth of a different kind blooms between your legs as the heat in his eyes turns mischievous for a beat before turning sincere.

‘I’m a patient man. I’m here if you need, however you need. I care about you, this doesn’t have to be romantic unless you want it to be.’

‘Thank you, Jongin. I’m so happy to have you in my life,’ you say.

You lean up and press a kiss to his cheek, heart melting as his cheeks turn pink. He leads you back to the group and you sigh with relief. Now I just have to figure out who I am. Fantastic, you think.

Wednesday April 2nd, 1997

It happens as you and Jongin are leaving his class one night. Spring has finally arrived in the Northwest and you’re happy, laughing at some joke Jongin told you.

Neither of you are prepared for Michael appearing from behind the large dumpsters next to the employee parking. One moment you’re enjoying the satisfying post-exercise glow and admiring the way Jongin’s hair looks when it’s sweaty and pushed off his forehead, and the next you’re screaming in alarm as the two of them fall to the ground.

Jongin grunts as he slams to the concrete, rolling to the side in an attempt to get Michael off of him. If he wasn’t wearing his signature patched leather jacket you’d hardly have recognized him - hair unkempt, beard scraggly, a wild look in his eyes that frightens you.

The first punch Michael swings hits Jongin’s shoulder. It forces you out of your shock and into action. You yell for help. Luckily it’s a busy night and two women you recognize from the bookstore are walking by.

‘We’ll get security!’ one of them calls out as they rush off towards the mall. A few other people linger nearby, unsure if or how to intervene.

Jongin’s quick reflexes help him dodge Michael’s wild blows and they land on the concrete. It must bruise and scrape his hands, but in the state he’s in he hardly seems to notice.

You get closer, horribly afraid Michael will hurt Jongin seriously. He’s so unpredictable, especially on drugs, that he could have a knife or even a gun on him. Finally, he leans to the side to pull back for another punch and you dart forward.

Grabbing the back of his jacket you pull to the side with all your might, attempting to throw him off. ‘Michael, stop it! Get off him!’

He bends back further, twisting so his arm swings toward you and catches you in the stomach. You grunt and stagger backwards.

‘Stay the fuck out of this. He needs to know you’re mine.’ He says last word on a growl.

You pull out the thick teacher training binder from your bag, prepared to smack him upside the head, when you hear someone call ‘Hey!’ from behind you.

Two of the men who work at the pizza parlor are running over. The taller man, Chanyeol, you think, lunges for Michael with no hesitation. His height and strength allow him to do what you couldn’t and he pulls Michael to the side and onto the concrete. A shorter man with a strong brow follows behind Chanyeol, reaching to hold Michael’s arm back while Chanyeol holds his legs.

You hear them arguing and grunting and turn your attention to Jongin.

You bend down next to him, wincing at the pain in your side. ‘Oh my God, are you okay?’

Jongin nods, sitting up with a grimace. ‘I’ll be fine, he’s so hyped out on whatever he took that his aim was awful. Did he get you?’ He reaches a hand to cup your jaw, concern in his eyes.

You reach for a napkin from your bag to press to the cut in Jongin’s forehead. ‘He did, but it’s fine. It’s not too -’

‘Dale, get the cuffs,’ an assertive voice calls from behind you.

You and Jongin watch as Dale, Leeteuk, and another security officer help the two men from Barada. They manage to get Michael into handcuffs and drag him off towards the mall.

‘When you’re up for it tonight come to the office and we’ll take your statements,’ Leeteuk says when he passes you and Jongin.

You both nod. The ache in your abdomen is sharp and you focus on breathing deeply. Even after he disappears inside you can still hear Michael’s frantic, wild voice yelling.

Chanyeol sighs, dusting off his hands and shaking his head. He comes over and helps Jongin stand. ‘You alright man? What the hell was that? Soo and I were coming back from a meeting and Mel passed us yelling her head off about Jongin being attacked in the parking lot.’

You stand and wrap your arms around yourself, hating the entire situation, feeling miserable. Jongin takes a few steps, wincing and reaching a hand for his probably bruised hip. He brings his other arm around you and pulls you against him gently.

‘Her ex boyfriend. Real piece of work. Thanks for being there Chan, that guy was out of control.’

‘No problem, I know you’d do the same for me in a heartbeat.’

The shorter man looks at you and Jongin. ‘You guys okay? Anything we can do to help?’

Jongin looks at you and you shake your head. ‘No, but thanks Soo,’ he says, patting his shoulder.

The crowd that had gathered breaks us as everyone heads back towards the mall or their cars. You and Jongin support each other and walk back into KOKO.

Paige looks up when you enter and gasps. ‘What happened?’ She moves around the desk and supports Jongin on his other side. The two of you get him into a chair in her office.

‘Michael happened.’ Jongin lets out a small groan as he sinks into the seat.

She purses her lips. ‘Did security come?’

‘Yeah, Leeteuk and Dale were there. After we get ourselves sorted we’re going to make a statement.’

You duck your head, running an anxious hand across your forehead. Sadness, frustration, dread all fill your mind but guilt takes center stage as you sneak a look at the blood on Jongin’s forehead.

‘I’ll leave you two to rest, but I’m just out here if you need me,’ Paige says with concern. ‘There’s a first aid kit in the top right drawer of the cabinet behind you.’

When the door shuts you push down your emotions and stand to get the kit. Jongin waits for you to pull the chair around, waits while you open the white box and take out a medicated wipe to clean off the blood. He patiently waits until you finish putting a bandage on the cut and finally look him in the eye before he speaks.

‘Are you alright?’ he asks quietly.

You nod, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. ‘I’m fine, I just feel awful. Jongin, I’m so sorry. He had no right and I couldn’t get him off you and -’

He cuts you off by leaning forward and wrapping his arms around you. You rest your forehead on his shoulder and cry, letting the stress and emotion work its way out of you. ‘It’s not your fault.’

‘You’ll probably want nothing to do with me now,’ you mumble against the fabric of his shirt.

He pulls back and brushes your hair behind your ears. ‘No, don’t do that. Don’t you take on what he did. That’s on him. Not you. You’re not responsible for him.’

When you don’t speak he carries on. ‘Do you really think anything could scare me away from you? Even if we’re not dating, we’re still friends, right?’

You nod. ‘Okay, fine. But I’m still going to feel awful about this for the next hmm, twenty years or so.’

He laughs and wipes off your tears with his thumbs. ‘And I’ll be right there to tell you that just because your ex is a psycho, it’s not your fault.’ When you open your mouth to object he stands. ‘No buts. Now let’s get this over with at security, I’m sure we could both use dinner.’

You laugh. ‘Okay, you’re right, I’m starving. And I definitely need a long, hot shower tonight.’

He leads the way out of the office, favoring one of his legs with a good-natured wince. ‘That’s the spirit.’

Tuesday June 21st, 1997

Against all odds, life resumes its normal flow. Days are filled with classes, working at the desk, continuing teacher training, and settling into the group of friends you’ve made at the mall.

Even though Leeteuk said that Michael would serve a minimum of six months for his assault charge, there is always the threat that he’ll be out earlier for good behavior. But you’re determined to move on, throwing yourself into building a life free of him.

Your roommate and Hitchcock introduce you to the many incredible vintage stores downtown. Shari’s becomes a regular hangout during the Spring and on into the Summer. You and your sister discover a quiet cafe inside an indie bookstore with a view of the water and try to spend a morning a week there, reading together.

Work is steady and enjoyable. You love the balance between working with customers and organizing the paperwork. Between working with Michelle and Jongin and Jennifer, the ballet teacher, Paige thinks you’ll be ready to start teaching on your own in the fall.

And then there’s Jongin, the dominant figure in your life the past few months. There’s hardly a day you aren’t together between work and dinners and nights out dancing and movie nights with the group. You know he’s waiting patiently to see how you’re feeling, but like always he doesn’t push you, content to just be with you.

Your sister joins you for lunch on a break between her classes after stopping in to say hi to the kids at the daycare. When you’re sitting down eating your slices of pizza, she strikes.

‘So, when are you going to tell Jongin you’re in love with him?’ she asks, making you choke on your sip of Diet Coke.

‘Excuse me?’ you say between coughs.

She thumps your back twice to help. ‘I didn’t mean to kill you, sorry. I just -’ she waves her hands in the air. ‘I know you’re on Self-Discovery Quest 97 and all, which of course I fully support. I’m your sister, I love you. You know I’d support you through anything. But literally you look at him like you want to jump into his arms and kiss him for the next century every time you’re together.’

You wince and take another enormous bite of pizza. ‘Is it that obvious?’ you ask around a full mouth.

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘It’s clear you both want to be together. Any you’re well on your way to figuring out what you want. I’m just wondering why you’re forcing yourself to hold back? I’m your sister, you know you can tell me anything.’

You let out a sigh. ‘Do you know what Michelle’s theme was for today’s class?’

She shakes her head and you carry on. ‘It was desire. And the way Jongin looked at me… the way I was absolutely, probably, looking at him? It scares me.’

‘Why?’

‘What if it’s like Michael? What if I give everything to him and it turns bad? What if I lose myself again?’ you ask frantically. ‘This would hurt even worse. Sure, I liked Tacoma and the studio, but here feels like home. Seattle, the mall, KOKO. What if being together ruins what we have now?’

‘First off - he’s not Michael. There was always something off about that boy, I just had no idea it was as bad as it was,’ she says, guilt on her features. ‘But Jongin is sincere. He loves you too, I’m certain of it.’

‘How do you know?’

She smiles, looking nostalgic. ‘Because he shows it with his actions, not just his words. Has he ever hurt you? Betrayed you? Done anything other than proved to you he wants you?’

You think back to everything that’s passed between the two of you. He gave you support, space, protection, encouragement. She’s right. He’s done nothing but prove himself to be a good man.

‘No. He’s perfect. I want him so badly, in every way.’

‘He clearly chooses you, sis. All you have to do if you want him is be brave enough to trust him and choose him back,’ she says quietly. ‘It’s the easiest and the hardest thing in the world to do.’

‘When did you get so wise? Does it have anything to do with that dad you keep hanging out with?’ you tease, enjoying the blush on her cheeks when she looks towards the antiques shop.

She makes an X with her arms. ‘Oh no, we are not talking about me right now. This is about you,’ she says, standing. ‘And the fact that you need to tell Jongin you’re in love with him.’

She throws her napkin at you and you laugh, tossing yours at her in return and standing to chase her around the table.

Wednesday July 2nd, 1997

At Baekhyun’s pre-Fourth of July party Jongin waits for you in the kitchen. He pours drinks and listens to Baekhyun’s stories, saving the girl from the jewelry store from his friend’s overly enthusiastic yelling.

He thinks to himself that she’s very nice, but clearly in love with Chanyeol. When the man in question comes into the kitchen they share a look so full of passion and longing he wants to snort into his beer and say ‘been there, friends.’

Instead he turns around to get another drink and almost runs into your sister. ‘Hey, how’s it going? Are you looking for Jun? I think he’s around here somewhere,’ he says.

She waves him off and fixes him with her best stern look. ‘No, I’m here to give you the talk.’

‘The talk?’ he asks, raising a brow.

She blows a strand of hair off her face and smothers a laugh. ‘Look, I’m her sister, not her parent. I haven’t done this before, so bear with me.’

He frowns in confusion. ‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. Did something happen? Is she okay?’

She reaches a hand to his shoulder to reassure him. ‘Oh, she’s fine. Trust me. I just - go with me on this sitcom moment here. I like you Jongin. I think you’re a good man and I trust you.’

‘Thank you,’ he nods, pleased. He waves her on.

‘I’m trusting you with the person most important to me in the world, okay? If you hurt her I’ll - well, I don’t know. I’m opposed to violence, but I’ll think of something,’ she laughs. ‘Just... please treat her well. I know you will, I just need you to say it.’

He runs a hand along his neck. ‘Trust me, all I want is to love her and keep her safe. She deserves the world and for all her dreams to come true. I want to give that to her. But.. we’re just friends right now, I think. Unless she’s said something to you?’

She looks satisfied and nods, holding out a hand officially for him to shake. ‘Thank you Jongin.’ A moment later she nods to something behind him. ‘As for the second part, you’ll find out very soon I imagine.’

He turns and sees you standing at the entrance, holding your hands nervously and looking around the party. He turns, saluting your sister with his cup, and walks over to you.

It never fails to set his heart and skin alight when you turn your attention to him. The way you brighten at his presence would be enough to last him his entire life. But he has a feeling that he might get even more of you tonight.

‘Hi,’ you say brightly.

‘Hey yourself, want a drink?’

You exhale deeply, biting your lip. ‘Not right now. Could we go talk? Outside maybe?’

‘Sure, lead the way your highness,’ he teases, earning him an amused look.

The two of you head into Baekhyun’s backyard, surrounded by trees. The warm red painted deck is strung up with twinkly lights that you both know is the work of Hitchcock, not the man himself. He follows you to the side of the house by the large Evergreen tree.

Before he can ask what’s up, you speak. ‘Do you want to go watch the fireworks at the mall with me?’

He blinks. ‘Umm, I thought we already were going? All of us, roof of the mall, eight o’clock? You and I are bringing the mixers.’

You look torn, a million emotions flying through your expression and something in him tells him to be patient. After a minute you step closer, resting your hands lightly on his arms. He takes a step back until he’s leaning against the house, watching you intently.

When you look up at him your expression is resolved, fixed on him in a way it never has before. ‘I don’t just mean as friends Jongin. As… more.’

He tentatively reaches for your hips, feeling like his hands belong there. ‘Are you sure?’

You smile up at him and time stops. He resists the urge to pick you up and capture your lips with his. Barely.

‘Yes, I’m sure. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the space you gave me,’ you say. ‘I finally feel like me. When Michelle asked us to think about what we wanted today, I thought about many things. But mostly I thought about you.’

He grins, feeling the urge to beat his chest and roar with triumph. ‘Okay, then. I’d love to go with you to the fireworks as… more.’

‘Excellent,’ you say, swaying towards him.

It feels like the universe gives you a push. In one breath you’re standing toe to toe with him against the house. In the next you’ve pressed yourself against him, stepped between his legs to form your body to his. Soft meeting hard, need against need.

His arms wrap around your waist with a sigh and your hands find their way into his hair. For long moments you lean into him, body relaxing even as your heart is hammering in your chest.

He breathes with you, warm air trailing along the skin of your shoulder. You smile against him, your cheek pressed to his. How can one man make you so excited that you feel like you’re flying, but also calm your heart and make you feel safer than you’ve ever felt before?

Eventually you pull back and marvel at him. The way the wind moves his hair across his forehead. You ruffle it up and he laughs, a warm sound.

Emboldened by your touch he lifts a hand to trace the line of your face, trailing his fingers your cheek and along your jaw. His thumb rubs lightly against your lower lip and your mouth opens, already hungry for him but in no rush to end this moment.

The two of you have been dancing around each other for months, literally and figuratively, and now that the time is finally here for you to know what it’s like to kiss him you’re suddenly worried it won’t live up to your imagination. What if you’re a terrible kisser? What if you have no chemistry together?

As you look into his warm brown eyes, lit up by the strands of lights around the backyard, any doubts fall away. A half-smile plays on his lips and suddenly you can’t help it anymore - you cup his face with both your hands and press your lips against his.

He groans against you, half in relief and half in what sounds like pleasure. 

Easily he picks up after your first move. Like he was born to know your body he runs a hand down your side, leaving heat in his wake and finding a home on your hip, anchoring you to him. With his other he holds your jaw delicately, his broad hand dragging along the delicate skin of your neck.

When he moves, sliding his lips across yours, you can’t remember a single other thing. Just like his hands his mouth is hot, sensual, and just a little rough. The sheer intensity radiating off of him is a match striking the passion inside you.

Suddenly, you can’t get close enough. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling. His hand strokes along the barely covered skin of your lower back making you keenly aware of the need pooling low in your body. His tongue darts out to taste the seam of your lips.

With a groan, you open for him. Your mouth, your body, your heart belongs to him. And he knows it, given the possessive way he holds you, claims you with his tongue and his hands. Lost in sensation, giddy at the fact that you’re finally both here and ready, you think to yourself that the earth could cease to be and you’d hardly notice.

His leg slides between yours, grinding itself teasingly against your sensitive core, and you pull back on a gasp to look at him. His lips are red and his tongue swipes along his bottom lip.

‘I’ve wanted to kiss you so badly,’ he whispers. His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard, full of need.

‘Thank you for waiting for me.’ You lean your forehead against his, running your hands along his shoulders, his arms.

He nods, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. ‘I’d wait forever for you. But I’m delighted to finally get to be yours.’

His words crack your heart open with fierce pleasure. You know he’ll never lie to you, push you to do things you don’t want to or expect you to be anything but who you are. Tears form at the corners of your eyes and you press your mouth to his again. Softer this time; deeper, sweeter.

If the first kiss was his claiming of your heart, this one is a kiss of discovery of something you feel like you’ve always known. 

As he cradles you against him, tucked against his body and held by his strong hands, you realize that you don’t need to claim him. He’s always been yours, since the first moment you saw each other perhaps.

You smile into the kiss. When you sigh into his open mouth, pressing gently against the firm muscle of his legs, the real world suddenly intrudes.

‘Sis, where are you? Helloooo?’ comes your sister’s voice from the backyard.

You laugh, giddy. Jongin’s an adorable mess, hair askew, lips red, shirt half-untucked. You’re sure you’re just as bad. 

You cling to his shoulders, laughing against him. ‘Coming!’ you call out.

Friday July 4th, 1997

Twilight falls on Seattle, lighting up the city as darkness descends. The setting Summer sun illuminates the Cascades and you gasp, exuberant at the gorgeous sight from the rooftop. It also doesn’t hurt that the man you love stands behind you.

Jongin glows tonight, a lightness and a joy seem to spill from him. He steps away to help Baekhyun set up the keg, smiling so much his eyes disappear and crinkles form in the corners. He darts back to press a kiss to your head first and you grin.

You all pass the time until the fireworks start with games. Sehun loses at Never Have I Ever and has to do the Macarena for a solid minute. He’s saved by the sound of explosions and splashes of color across the sky.

The fireworks from the Space Needle make you swoon. They light up all the buildings downtown and reflect across Lake Washington. Jongin holds you against him, hands on your waist. You rest your hands over his and turn to look up at him.

The fireworks are reflected in his eyes and your heart feels like it explodes as well. ‘I love you Jongin,’ you say, unable to keep it in.

He grins at you, eyes wide with feeling, looking for all the world like a star brought down to earth. ‘I love you too.’

You spin in his arms and practically launch yourself at him. He catches you easily and holds you while you kiss him with vigor. The group of friends around you whoops and cheers. 

‘Get a room!’ Baekhyun teases.

‘Want to go somewhere more… private?’ Jongin asks against your lips, laughing.

You nod, unable to stop the blissed-out smile you give him. He finds your coats and you grab your purse, waving goodbye to the group. 

The moment the door to the rooftop closes Jongin pulls you into his arms again, pressing you against the wall and kissing down your neck. His hands trail heat along your arms, your side, settling on your hips.

‘Please don’t be gentle with me tonight,’ you plead against his shoulder, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck.

‘As you wish,’ he growls against your skin. 

He bends and slides his hands to cup your ass. In one fluid motions he pulls you into his arms and holds you against the wall with his hips. He slides his teeth along the skin of your neck and lets out a groan.

You cling to him while he walks down the blessedly empty stairwell through the mall. While he walks you kiss along his jaw, teasing the flesh behind his ear. That makes his hands tighten on your ass, so you repeat the motion on the other side.

He reluctantly sets you down when you reach the door to the mall. The heat in his eyes lets you know this night is far from over and you thank the heavens. You hold his hand in yours and dash across the dark space. 

The light from the fireworks is visible through the domed, glass ceiling and your footsteps echo in the wide open space.

You fumble for your key to the studio in your bag, Jongin’s heavy breathing against your ear makes it hard to think. He chuckles and presses his mouth to your shoulder, smiling against the skin there. You smile in response, feeling lighter than air as you finally locate the key and unlock the door. He guides you inside.

Both of you head for your favorite corner studio at the back. When you open the door much of the window is blocked by the greenery that lines the mall’s sidewalk, but plenty of light spills in from the streetlights.

You cup his face in your hands and pull him to you, slanting your lips against his. He reaches for you again, mouth hungry against yours, but you move and hold his hands. You take a step back and raise a brow at him.

‘Sit here for me, will you?’ you ask, voice low and thick with arousal.

He nods, taking a steadying breath and running his hands through his hair. He crosses his legs and spreads out on the floor with his back against the mirrored wall. His arousal is evident and straining against his jeans, even in the low light, as he stretches his legs out. But like always, he waits, watches, gives you the space you need.

Before you lose your nerve you kick off your heels and pull the clip holding up your hair. The weight of it settles on your shoulders, teasing the bare skin of your shoulders revealed by your dress. 

You wish there was music to make you brave, to ground you. But you breathe and focus on Jongin to steady your nerves. His appraisal is all the aphrodisiac you need.

You approach him, coming to stand with your toes touching his stretched out heels. Emboldened by the heat and need running through your veins you reach down for the edge of your dress. Once it’s over your head you toss it to the side and look around.

It would have terrified you, intimidated you, to see yourself reflected on every wall of the room. Once, an eternity ago, you would have folded in upon yourself; tried to disappear at the sheer intensity and love coming from his eyes as he takes you in.

You lower your lashes for a beat, staring at the floor. For long breaths you savor the magic of being in love with this man, the way his consistent attention and never-fading sincerity make you feel safe and held.

Your mouth tugs slowly back into a smile when you meet his gaze once more. This time, as you lift your hands to tug off your bra your motions are sure, decided.

He takes in every inch of exposed flesh reverently, like he’s looking at the finest art he’s ever seen. Unable to hold himself back, he reaches for your bare calves, easing you closer to him. The first soft kiss he presses to your thigh makes you shiver. The second makes you moan and reach for his hair to steady yourself.

He looks up at your face for hints of hesitation. 'Do you want this? Do you want me?' his voice cracks on the last syllable, a vulnerability of his own that slips out with the force of his longing.

You know in your bones that he'd wait forever for you. He'd never pressure or coerce. He'll never take more from you than you're hoping to give. Emotion rises in you as you stand there, sliding your hands to cup his face while he resumes his path in learning your body. Giving you time.

Even though he's never been inside of you, you already know that he'll always leave you fuller than before. His lips ghost along the exposed skin of your knee. You know that every time with him will leave you raw and seen.

Every time with him will be a miracle, you think. But this first time your need is so strong it feels like a wildfire will overtake you. If there's one thing you want to hold onto from this it's the way his hands shake slightly as they slide up to your hips.

You smile and sit down, straddling his lap, clad in only your underwear. 'Yes. Jongin, please. I want all of you,’ you say and press a kiss to his temple.

He seems to feel it too, the way tonight will be a joining together. Not a taking, like with Michael. No, tonight will be a an etching of your name into his heart, his bones, his blood and his into yours.

He pulls back and you think you've never seen anyone shine brighter than the sun, even in this darkened room. His hands slide up your waist until his thumbs caress the undersides of your breasts and you let out a moan.

‘You and me? Officially?’ he says, unable to contain the bright, slightly smug grin that comes to his lips.

‘Yes.’ You hold his jaw in your hands, pressing a possessive kiss to his lips.

‘You.’ A kiss to his cheek that makes his eyes drift close.

‘Me.’ A slide of your lips against his neck that earns you a groan.

‘For real.’ When you find the pulse point behind his ear his hands dig into the flesh of your hips. 

You squeal as he pulls you flush against him. ‘Thank you for waiting for me,’ you whisper against his lips. You pull back and he’s watching you with a softness on his expression.

‘I would have waited forever for you.’ He brushes the hair off your forehead, tucking it behind your ear. ‘Thank God the wait is over though.’

He pulls you against him and stands, kissing along your neck and walking towards the stack of yoga mats. You squeal and hold onto him. ‘Agreed.’

Monday September 1st, 1997

You’re in the break room when the sound of gunfire comes from the direction of the mall. Other people might have mistaken it for a car backfiring or something similar, but instantly you know what it means.

Far enough away they sound muted by the distance. Close enough they make your hands shake. The hair on your arms stands on end and a sick feeling grows in your gut.

You set down your sandwich and dart cautiously down the hallway. Heads pop out of classrooms and studios and you motion for everyone to stay in their rooms.

‘It’s coming from the out there, stay inside and turn the lights off,’ you call to Michelle as you pass her by. She nods, her eyes alert.

Jongin meets you coming down the hallway, his bag still on his shoulder and his eyes wild with fear until they land on you. ‘Oh thank god.’

‘Is Paige-’ you start, clasping your hand in his and peeking around the corner into the front desk.

‘She called security as soon as we heard it. She’s safe, don’t worry,’ he answers, squeezing your hand.

‘I have an awful feeling about this,’ you start, voice barely above a whisper.

He holds you around the waist, solid and comforting. The two of you look through the glass doors that lead out into the mall. Dale, Leeteuk, and several other security officers dart past. The uproar seems to be centered on the jewelry store at the far end.

He pulls you fully into his arms, holding you close enough to him that you can feel his heart beating where your chests are pressed together. With an anxious sigh you bury your head in the warm skin of his neck, breathing, waiting.

After a minute the sound of gunfire comes again and you look up, the sound of shouting echoing through the mall. Three police officers work their way through the crowd of people that surround the store. 

Dale emerges after a beat, pulling a man in handcuffs. Dark hair, dark sweatshirt, unmistakable expression on his angry face.

The horrible feeling in your gut spreads through your body, engulfing you. ‘Oh my god.’

Jongin follows your look and his mouth tightens into a line at seeing Michael. He rubs your shoulders comfortingly, his eyes warm and sympathetic. ‘It’s okay, you’re safe.’

Fear chokes you. ‘Jongin, what if he hurt someone. It’s all my faul-’

His hands at your shoulders tighten a fraction, his expression turning fierce. ‘No. It’s not. He made his choices. You’re not responsible for this, okay?’

Panic wars with guilt and you draw your eyes back to the mall, unable to look away. ‘Can we…? Please, I have to know if anyone was hurt.’

He nods, looking across to the jewelry store and deciding the threat has passed. He presses a kiss to your forehead before grasping your hand in his and pushing you into the atrium. 

In the crowd you see many people you recognize. Friends, frequent patrons of the gym, co-workers. The mall feels like home, you realize as you walk, and these people feel like family.

Michael notices you, his eyes dangerous, but subdued and unfocused. Probably as a result of the enormous stains of blood blooming on his sweatshirt. 

Anxiously you scan the crowd as it breaks up, people resuming their lives now that the danger has passed. Chanyeol pulls a girl into his arms and you recognize her as the cashier from the jewelry store. She seems shaken, but unhurt.

You spot Leeteuk and he walks over, running his hand through his hair. He nods at your approach. ‘Hey guys. What a fucking day.’

‘Was anyone hurt? What happened?’ you ask.

He shakes his head and gives you a grim smile. ‘No, thank God. He shot like a wild stallion but he didn’t hit anyone. Took aim at Dale and he dropped him with two to the shoulder.’

You gasp and cover your mouth with a hand. Jongin gives your waist a reassuring squeeze.

‘Don’t worry, he’ll be going away for a long, long time,’ LT says.

‘Thanks, man,’ Jongin says, leaning over to press a kiss to your hair.

‘No problem.’

‘Let’s get out of here,’ he says softly in your ear. ‘It’s over. Finally.’

Wednesday February 11th, 1998

The sunlight in the apartment is warm and yellow, stretching across the sea of boxes still to be unpacked, the mismatched end tables and chairs.

You turn in your brand new bed, still baffled and delighted to find yourself in Jongin’s arms, in the new apartment you’d just moved into together.

The weight of his arm around your waist, the smell of his skin, the morning light - all of it should be perfect.

But a nagging fear rises in your throat. Confusion, swiftly followed by the first hints of tears, push you to gently leave your boyfriend sleeping. He frowns at the absence of your warmth beside him in his sleep.

In the early morning light you tiptoe to the stairs of the loft, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and letting whatever emotion is prompting this work it’s way out of you one tear at a time.

After a few minutes you hear Jongin stir in bed, his sleepy voice calls your name softly. A beat later you feel him behind you, his legs sliding alongside yours, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to his chest.

As always, he doesn’t push you, never forcing you to speak or act before you’re ready. In all the months you’ve known him, through the highs and lows of a new relationship, he’s never changed. Instead he’s only become more steady and grounded by your love. You both have.

He says you were the missing piece he never knew he needed. Something about you brings out the best in him, your relationship the touchstone that sees him through all else, and you know you feel the same.

He sits on the stair behind you, gently easing you into his arms against his chest. For long minutes he presses kisses to the top of your head, keeps the blanket wrapped around you, runs his fingers through your hair.

Eventually the knot in your chest loosens, the fear that burned in your throat passes, cleansed by tears.

You wipe your eyes with the edge of the blanket and sigh, turning and resting your cheek against the bare skin of his chest.

‘I’m sorry if I worried you,’ you start, clearing your throat around the thickness there.

‘You know I’ll never rush you.’ His voice is a low rumble against your cheek.

You nod against him, grinning and pressing a kiss against his bare chest. When you meet his eyes once again you’re in disbelief that this isn’t all a dream. That he’s really here and yours.

But the two of you built your relationship, brick by brick, together. You weren’t merely someone who was chosen. You chose him, chose this. Alongside him and your friends and your sister you built yourself back up into a stronger person.

The things you went through, all the past and history that you once thought would drag you down, only made you into someone who knows her worth and her strength.

You never let life rob you of your hope and love. ‘I thought good things couldn’t last,’ you start and his brow furrows in confusion.

You giggle and turn, kneeling in front of him and smoothing the creases with your thumb before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

‘I thought eventually things would go wrong, somehow’ you continue and his eyes soften in understanding, his hands coming to rub along your arms. ‘But here you are, proving me wrong. Day after day.’

He closes his eyes and smiles, pulling you into an awkward hug on the stairs. You wrap him in your arms as well, holding him closer than you ever thought it was possible to hold someone. His knee might be digging into your side, your hair messily strewn across his face; a bewildering puzzle of body parts and hands and hearts that makes you grin.

But when he breathes, settling against you, you can’t help but feel like you’ve never fit with anyone like this. And you’re never going to let him go.

[happys-crazy-queen22]

Take It Out On Me

Gif credit @gore-babys

I hope you all enjoy.

Happy Reading Dollies.

Song: Take it out of me by Florida Georgia Line. (It's country I know but I thought it fit him)

@chriscrosscerulli. @ilovetaquitosmmmm. @ryansitkowskiswifey

What'd he do this time?

Did he break your heart?

I can tell you been crying

And baby here you are

And I always know

Any time you show up

At my door past 11 o'clock

That he really must've pissed you off

It was half past three when the clap of the storm shook your house, it was followed by a banging on the front door. You jumped out of bed, slipping on your slippers and headed down the hall. It was rain extremely hard, the lightning flickered a figure standing on your door step. By the baseball cap, the beard and the tattooed hands you saw it was Ryan. Why was he out in this storm?

Opening the door, the wind whoshed in making you shiver. Crossing your arms to keep you warm. The first thing you noticed his eyes were red and he has been biting on his bottom lip.

"Ryan, get in here out of the storm". You pulled him by his shirt. He was soaked from head to toe. His sneakers squeaked as he walked across the floor. You grabbed the blanket on the back of the couch and wrapped it around him.

"What are you doing here? Are you okay"? You asked taking his hat off and laying it on the back of the couch.

"I caught her". He sobbed into your shoulder.

"Caught who, honey"? You rubbed his back calming him.

"April. I caught her fucking her boss".

"Oh sweetie, I'm sorry you had to see that". "Come on let's get you out of those clothes before you catch a cold. You took him to your room, grabbing a pair of pajama pants from your drawer.

"They're unicorns. Sorry". You giggled when Ryan softly laughed under his breath.

"It's okay, thanks".

"I'll let you change and I'll make you some hot chocolate". You slightly smiled and left for him to get ready.

While you put the milk in the microwave, you cured her. She was the spawn of Satan and you warned Ryan about her but love trumps over your friends suspicions. Ryan was love struck and all she saw was money signs and free concerts.

Ding.

Carefully getting the coffee cups out, you stirred in Hersey chocolate and lots of it. You also grabbed the brownies you made earlier and some tissues. Walking into the living room, Ryan came down the hall in his unison pjs. He was adorable.

"Thanks for letting me in". He said taking a seat next to you.

"That's what I'm here for, but I have a question. Why didn't you go to one of the guys"?

"Because I knew they would harp on being right, that she was an evil manipulative bitch. I just needed someone to talk to".

"Here you go, it's hot". You told Ryan but of course he sips it and burns his tongue. You try blowing it off as he fanned his tongue. You both busted out laughing.

"I can't believe she would do that". Ryan went back to being sad.

Take it out on me

And put your lips on mine

Let me take his wrong

And make it right this time

Yeah, you can just come over

You ain't gotta call

You always got a shoulder anytime it all goes bad

When you're 'bout to break

When you're mad as hell

You can always take it out on me

You can take it out on me baby

If you ever wanna leave, maybe

In the middle of the night, that's alright

You can take, take

Take off your coat

And baby come on in

Girl, let me help

To get back at him

And I don't know why

You never say goodbye

Whatever hell he's putting' you through

I can't wait for you to

"I'm not harping but what did you expect? She used you and she maxed out one of your credit cards. How did she get your card anyways"?

"I kinda gave it to her". Your eyes widened, you punched him in the arm.

"Why, are you crazy"?

"She needed a few things but turned out she was buying her boss lunch and hotel rooms. He's married too".

"Fucking home wrecking whore". You growled. Ryan smiled, he kind of liked when you were protective over him. Since the ninth grade you always had his back. When he would get bullied, you would always stick up for him even if that meant you got beat up too but you found a way to get even every time. His favorite memory from school was junior prom. You two went together and put laxatives in the punch bowl. Kids and teacher were shitting their pants everywhere, in the hallways, the gym and even a few in the parking lot trying to get home. He loved how your mind worked.

"So what are you going to do about living arrangements"?

"She's gone, I threw all her shit outside in the yard and I had a locksmith change the locks".

"Good for you, I'm sorry this happened to you. You deserve better. You give so much to some people and get nothing back in return. That needs to stop now".

"It will, I'm getting rid of all the toxic people in my life and bringing in the ones that light a fire under my ass to have a better life".

You snuggled into his chest, curling your legs together as you both laid on the couch.

"Am I that fire"?

"Oh yes, you roast my ass when ever I see you". He laughed blowing his hot chocolate off first this time before drinking.

"I want you to make the best of this life, not waste it doing shit that won't get you anywhere. Like her. She stopped you from doing things you loved and spending time with the ones that cares deeply for you".

Take it out on me

And put your lips on mine

Let me take his wrong

And make it right this time

Yeah, you can just come over

You ain't gotta call

You always got a shoulder anytime it all goes bad

When you're 'bout to break

When you're mad as hell

You can always take it out on me

"Well she's gone for good never letting that tramp back into my life".

"That's wonderful, you finally coming around to my side". You chuckled as you felt Ryan's arm wrap around your chest, his hand resting on your shoulder. You placed your warm check on his cool hand. It felt like ice on your fiery cheek.

"I could get use to your side of things. They keep me out of trouble and keep me sane".

"That's why I became your friend to keep you sane cause you kept me sane. You kept me from wanting to end it all". "I couldn't ask for a better friend than you".

Yeah, I'll lay you down

And love you just the way you should be

Baby, so now that you're ready

Take it out on me

You can take it out on me baby

If you ever wanna leave, maybe

In the middle of the night, that's alright

You can take, take

Ryan's heart wanted to burst from the love you have for him and for he had for you. All these years he was looking for the right one but it was in front of him the whole time. He knew why he picked you that night instead of one of the guys. He had to make sure he was doing the right thing in telling you how he felt and to see if you still felt that way also.

"Y/N"?

"Yeah"? You hummed as you got warm and cozy in Ryan's strong arms.

"I love you". You felt his chest breath deeply as if he was holding in a breath and was afraid to release it cause if he did he would break down again.

"I love you too Ryan. Always have and always will. The first day I met you I knew you were special and that you were perfect".

"You feel the same way"?

"Like I said the first day we met in detention, I knew you were the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with".

"Why didn't you tell me"?

"You needed to live your life before making this decision".

"I could've made a mistake".

"You did but so have I and I think that makes us experience in what not to do in a relationship". "Our relationship with last forever now".

"I'll make sure of that". He leaned up, bringing your head back, his lips meeting yours. Kissing you deeply and full of passion.

Take it out on me

And put your lips on mine

Let me take his wrong

And make it right this time

Yeah, you can just come over

You ain't gotta call

You always got a shoulder anytime it all goes bad

When you're 'bout to break

When you're mad as hell

You can always take it out on me

You can take it out on me baby

If you ever wanna leave, maybe

In the middle of the night, that's alright

You can take, take it out on me

[a-monsters-love]

Spice

[Master List]

Art credit goes to: @ianterweb​ -- [Original Post]

Bakugo x Reader

Warnings: swearing (obvi it’s Bakugo), blood, a drop of gore (not in a stomach churning way), toy guns, implied pining, spoilers if you haven’t watch season 4, mentioned of death, Slow Burn

Genre: angst, fluff, combat

Word count: 12k

Time Line: I extended the timeline around between the provisional licensing exam and the work study program, part of me doesn’t think irl they’d just thrown out of the frying pan and into the fire.

A/N / Inspiration: So I rewatched ATLA and honestly I really wanted a Ty Lee styled reader for this, like just upbeat and positive but irl she’s got demons. Also I fully believe Ty Lee could kick Bakugo’s ass, no one can change my mind. I firmly believe he needs an S/o who can just whoop his ass, part of me thinks that’s the only way he’d ever accept a crush or a relationship. 

*So like, if (y/n) fought like Ty Lee who uses Tai Chi and Dim Mak (loosely translates to “Touch of Death” but we know it as chi blocking)

*All Tai Chi and Yoga pose names I fully researched  

*don’t @ me for this but because their classes only carry 20 students I’m sacrificing our sweet boy Rikido Sato (code name: Sugarman) b/c I haven’t seen enough of his character to know how to write him :L #TheProverbialSacrificialGoat

(Y/N) = Your Name

(Y/N/N) = Your Nickname

(L/N) = Last Name

(H/C) = Hair Color

(S/C) = Skin Color

(E/C) = Eye Color

(H/L) = Home Land i.e country of origin

——————

“Listen up.” Aizawa Sensei announced to the class dropping a book on his podium, gathering the classes attention he lazily sighs before speaking again. “As you’ve all noticed we still have an empty seat in the back of the class,” He points his hand in the general direction. “Moving forward, I have to introduce you to a new student to the class.” On cue the classroom door slides open, you walk in calmly despite your excitement. Your (H/C) hair is pulled up into a neat bun with your bangs clipped to the side, the only addition to your uniform being a pair of half palmed white gloves, you can feel everyone’s eyes scanning over you as you waltz in. “This is (L/N) (Y/N), I’ll let her introduce herself.” He finished as he stepped into his sleeping bag.

You glanced over at your new teacher, quickly understanding what kind of person he is before looking back at the class. “Hello, please feel free to call me (Y/N/N).” You giggle softly, “I just moved to Japan from (H/L) and it’s my understanding you guys have been together for sometime so I‘ll be in your care.” You smiled sweetly and gave a delicate bow.

“You’ll be sitting behind Koda,” He pointed to the obvious empty seat, “Between Ochaco and Shoto.” Aizawa Sensei made little effort to discern the two. “(Y/N) has already been moved into the dorms so I expect everyone to do their part in helping her get settled.” 

You only smiled as you made your way to your desk, shaking hands and giving polite greeting to your new desk mates. The girl beside you made quick work of making friends with you, the boy in front of you was extremely shy but made his own effort to wave back at you. You listened in on the class as the morning babble began, whispers in curiosity and a few waves and smile. You can feel a creepy gaze that made your skin crawl and heard a single but loud tongue click. “Another extra.” You heard him groan, the comment only made you snort a bit before the lecture started. 

You took color coded notes based off theme and what you decided or Aizawa Sensei said was important. Ochaco whispered about how cute your notes are causing you to whisper and explain why you did it. You noticed the way Shoto listened in on your organization explanation when you silently offered him a red and green pen. He took them both gratefully and confused at your action before deciding to make his own version of you system. When first period was over your desk was swarmed by your new classmates. 

You smiled brightly as they all introduced themselves when a boy, who introduced himself as Iida, tried to dispel the mob. “No-no it’s okay, we have plenty of time to get acquainted anyway.” You reassured him bashfully as the slimy kid, who introduced himself as Mineta, got a little too close for comfort. You took great pleasure in watching the pink girl grab him by the ankle and drop him in the trash. 

It was then that you heard a soft and almost awkward voice, “Can I ask what your quirk is?” Asked the green haired boy, Izuku is what someone called him.

“Of course!” You beamed, his clear anxiety from the question washes away as he pulled out a beat up notebook. “My quirk is called Molecular Regeneration, so basically Healing+, from what Aizawa-Sensei explained to me this morning I’ll be able to fully show everyone during gym.” You scanned over the group and motioned for Denki to come over. “I can heal little things like this pimple-“ You removed a glove and tapped his skin, fading the pimple away. “To great wounds, within reason of course. I have to eat a ton of food for the carbs, fats, proteins and all the extra good stuff if I use my quirk excessively but it’s a trade off I’m happy to make.” You put your glove back on and rubbed the back of your neck as you watched Izuku beam and start spiraling as he took notes. One of the other students explained that he does that often.

——

During gym everyone was paired up to fight, for practical and strategical purposes. Everyone gasped when Aizawa paired you up with Bakugo, saying it was cruel and you were new. You giggled at their concern, knowing full well that you could and have taken the blunt of an actual bomb and come out fine. Well fine-ish. “I paired them up purposely because I know he’ll be able to go all out and she’ll be fine.” He droned at his gaping students.

Each pair took turns, you watched everyone fight, analyzing their fighting styles noting where they went wrong. Your mother was a trained martial artist so you learned at a young age to do this. When your turn arrived you were excited to finally get up. You decided to take off your shoes as the boots you were provided weren’t practical for how you fought. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’re a girl.” Bakugo hissed.

You just smiled widely, “I’d be insulted if you did.” You chuckled, stretching a bit before getting into the Brush Knee starting position, legs spread slightly with a bent knee, one palm flat towards the ground and the other raised facing the boy. You looked relaxed, which seemed to anger him. As Aizawa blew his whistle he was quick to charge, when he got close you slapped his inner wrist the back of each hand. This pushes his arms to his sides as you twist around him and aggressively push on his spine with your palm causing him to falter forward. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’re a boy.” You teased at him, the face he made was that of confused rage.

“You think you can beat me with a few slaps?” He chided, earning a laugh from you as he charged again. 

“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” You snorted.

His wrists sparked as he aimed to use his quirk on you, “We’ll see about that.” You could almost hear amusement in his voice as he made a circle out of one hand and shot exploding bullets at you. You barely managed to dodge as you pushed yourself into a backhand spring, you confused him when you used your arms to push towards him. 

He went to use and exploding hand to punch at you as you jabbed repetitively at his quirk fueled arm. His explosion dissipating as his arm went limp. “I suppose we will.” You beamed close to his face before failing to see the swift kick he struck your side with, easily throwing you from your close proximity. You chuckled a bit with a small cough as you skidded in the distance, didn’t see that coming.

“What the fuck did you do to my arm?” He demanded an answer as you ran back and cartwheeled towards him using the propulsion to jump at him, aiming a leg to kick him from the side. Knowing he’d reflexively block the kick when you were close you used your other foot to kick his chin upwards. 

Your kick was successful and satisfying, “Dim Mak, also known as Chi Blocking.” When he regained his stance from your kick you jabbed at his other arm causing it to go limp. You stood beside him as he groveled a bit. “And with that~ I think I win, I don’t think it’s much of a fair fight at this point.” You smiled sweetly at him. 

Aizawa whistled again to end the match, you grabbed Bakugo’s wrist shaking the limp limb to Aizawa when you heard a pop, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” You quietly warned him still holding his wrist with a smirk but being who he is as a person the hand you held exploded with his quirk. 

You heard an audible scream from the class, after the dust dispersed your hand was basically gone. Your radius and ulna bones were cracked and broken poking up from your tattered forearm, blood splattered across both your face and Bakugo’s. All the rage that quelled in his system wiped clean with a guilty and horrified expression, seeing the blood that soaked part of your hair and the mess he created. “Oh fuck, I-“ He started but realized you were still smiling, even as blood dropped down your arm. Aizawa groaned loudly. 

“Well, that was… spicy.” You snorted. Within moments the bones started to grow where your hand once was, thick red muscles climbed the bones followed by skin. You were regenerating your hand, you smiled but your gaze was dark as you stared at him. “I told you not to do that.” Using your newly regrown hand you punched him in the side of the face causing him to hit the floor, hard.

“I deserved that one.” He mumbled quietly on the ground, you stood over him smiling smugly. 

“Come on, get up and let me fix your arms.” You waved for him to sit up before looking to Aizawa, “I’m leaving early after this for a shower.”

“Please.” He sighed, sending up the next group who were just staring at you in a mix of horror and awe. “We don’t have all day.” Aizawa said.

You sat Bakugo down and sat behind him, almost forcing him to lean his back into your knees and shins. “Alright, Spice, let me fix your nerves.” You removed the glove that didn’t get blow up and pulled at a limp arm, using your quirk to heal the damaged nerves as well as massaging into pressure points to release the tension you forced into his blood stream. He groaned in agony before sighing in relief.

When you were done he rubbed his arms and hands as the prior numbness faded, he looked back at you as you decided to heal the burnt skin on your shoulder and cheek. You smirked when you caught his gaze on you, he ruffled his hair aggressively as he got up and ushered you to follow him. You both needed to head to the dorms to clean up, as you followed behind him you heard him mumble. “I’m sorry.” He earned a chuckle out of you causing him to look back. I just blew up your literal arm to the bones and you were acting like a ray of fucking sunshine, he thought to himself as confusion knitted his brows. “I’m not sure what happened, I didn’t know I could be that lethal.” He admitted almost hissing out the words as if they were painful.

“I’m not mad, Aizawa paired me up with you for that reason.” You shrugged bashfully, “And what happened back there was kinda… mostly my fault..” Your admission seemed to confuse him more. “When I jabbed you’re arms I disrupted your blood flow and by default your quirk. You have a strong one so it essentially grew like an actual bomb and exploded more or less on its own.” He watched you explain, you just hoped he wouldn’t feel too guilty. “Look. If you’re sorry just get me lunch or something, Spice.” You smiled softly at the comment as you finally got to the dorm, making your way to your rooms to grab a change of clothing and then to your respective bathrooms to shower.

Bakugo grumbled over the whole ordeal before settling on the new nickname you’ve given him. Spice. What the fuck is that about, he couldn’t wrap his head around it but he learned quickly that he wouldn’t be able to stop you. You made that clear when you essentially wiped the floor with him, the thought of that made him yell out in frustration. “Stupid girl.” He hissed as he got dressed. 

You were waiting for him at the door in a fitted t-shirt and your gym shorts. Flitting through your phone aimlessly, he noticed your usual smile was gone. Replaced with something bored and almost listless, when you noticed him your lips curled at the edges into a soft smile. “Come on, Spice.” You waved for him as you opened the front door.

“Stop calling me that.” He snapped, frustrating that he could tell you wouldn’t.

You snorted with a loud ‘HA’, “Would you prefer Spicy Boy? Blasty? Bomb-dot-com? Oh! What about Limb Remover?”

Bakugo groaned trying to walk faster than you, “No!” He hissed at you, eliciting a hearty laugh from you.

“Spice it is.” You wink as you took lead almost skipping in front of him. He groaned loudly as you joined the rest of your class before gym was over. The two of you bickered back and forth for sometime and you could only laugh at his rising and dwindling frustration. Kirishima joined the conversation, fist bumping the only other person he could imagine withstanding an explosion from Bakugo. You could hear Izuku spiraling behind you and decided to turn a bit to answer his questions. “I’ve never successfully grown other people’s limbs or organs back but I can accelerate growth of, like, hair and finger nails.” You commented to one of his questions. “Though if you’re arm got like cut off cleanly I could potentially reattach it, I imagine it wouldn’t feel the same though.” You scratched at your damp hair that was now down from its bun to dry, your mouth was slanted not quite a frown but it was obvious to anyone that the gears in your head were spinning. 

Bakugo just stared at you with half lidded eyes as you spoke, part of him wanted to hiss at Deku to piss off with his nerdy ass research note book. However when you pulled the note book from Izuku’s hands and flitted through it with knitted brows and scold him for the condition of the note book it almost earned you a laugh. Almost. When you asked about the burns on the notebook he was hesitant to answer, “Accidents happen.” Was all he managed, you gave him a raised eyebrow but didn’t pester the topic. 

——

At lunch you had lost sight of Bakugo and didn’t think much of it, you were quickly wrangled by the girls of class 1-A as you paid for your meal, they pulled you to a table where you sat with Asui, Ochaco, Shoto, Izuku and Iida. You were quiet listening in on their conversations, providing a comment when needed as you quickly ate your food. You temporarily sated your stomach, knowing you should eat more before your quirk absorbed the contents of your stomach. You got up to put your tray away, running into Bakugo on the way back. “Hey, Spice. I lost you for a minute.” You snickered at him, he just grunted and rolled his eyes. Dragging you back to the lines to get lunch, or in this case a second helping. He didn’t say anything as you waited in line with him, he paid for your meal and made sure you received it before walking off. Waving a lazy hand back at you. “Prideful brat.” You snickered to yourself before rejoining your table.

“What’s all that?” Asui asked.

“Bakugo bought me lunch,” The table gaped at your comment. “As an apology for blowing up my arm.” You said pointedly, “Plus my quirk already started to absorb what I got earlier since I had to regrow a limb.” You half sighed half laughed at the comment. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you guys.” You rubbed your neck, this was a tell for you. 

Shoto shrugged, you knew Izuku nerded out on what happened, “We’ve seen scary quirks, yours wasn’t as scary as the situation, kero.” Asui said, Ochaco nodded fervently in agreement. 

You sighed in relief and started eating gleefully. This hit the spot, you were grateful to Bakugo even though it was your idea.

——

At the end of the day you followed your class back to the dorms, making quick work to get into your comfy clothes. You wore a short (but not quite cropped) shitty band shirt and a pair of high waisted pajama shorts that were just long enough to keep yourself covered if you stretched. You sat at the bar with a book as you idly watched Momo file through the kitchen. She offered tea which you happily accepted, discussing each of your preferences. You were a big fan of spiced drinks, chai’s more often than not.

Iida made his way to you not too long after with a schedule in hand, it showed everyone’s chores and what days they do them and with whom. He had added you to the schedule, noting that you had been paired with Bakugo on a large handful of occasions. Iida mentioned that you were one of the few who made it clear that you could clearly handle him he decided to rearrange the schedule as such to relieve some stress from your other classmates. You laughed and agreed that it would probably be for the best. 

The evening droned on a bit before dinner, you offered to help Izuku and Ochaco in the kitchen since you gave everyone quite the scare earlier. They both happily agreed, you helped out and decided to make a side dish your mom always made at home when you had a bad day. It was simple and it always seemed to cleanse the palate. When you let it simmer you made quick work of pulling out plates to serve at the table, helping Ochaco and Izuku when something started going awry.

When dinner was served and everyone was seated you weren’t sure where to sit until Kirishima dragged you to sit with him, Mina, Denki, Bakugo and Sero. You laughed, figuring you sat with the others at lunch. “Fine, fine, I’ll sit just stop dragging me.” You sat in the middle of the table between Bakugo and Kirishima, who asked loads of questions about your fighting style. “Oh, it’s just Tai Chi.” 

“You mean that thing old people do at the crack of dawn?” Denki asked, that’s definitely not what he expected.

You snorted and rolled your eyes, “Yeah, Tai Chi is a form of defensive martial arts that can also be used for meditation.” You ate a bit before continuing. “When used offensively the base principal of it is redirection, our bodies are covered in pressure points that-“ You took a sip of water. “If hit hard enough can fuck up your opponents whole fighting position and quickly turn the tables.”

“You still never explained what you did to my arms.” Bakugo hissed, almost pouting as he ate.

You scoffed, “Yes I did! I told you on the way back to the dorm after you blew up my arm!” You laughed, “I can explain it again if it didn’t make sense, Spice.”

The other boys and Mina snorted at the new nickname, “Please explain,” Sero managed to laugh out. 

“Okay. So, the fighting style for that is called Dim Mak, which means ‘Touch of Death’. Essentially I hit all the right pressure points directly to disrupt his blow flow, disabling his arms and quelling his quirk. Well, until the end.” You rubbed your neck bashfully at your mistake. “With Tai Chi you only hit pressure points to redirect, not do damage to the nervous system.” 

The other four just laughed, Bakugo just grunted and rolled his eyes as he ate. When they moved to the side dish you made Denki and Sero almost inhaled it. “This is so good, what is it?” Denki asked, knowing you helped in the kitchen.

“Oh, I made that. It’s [Food Name], just comfort food my mom always made for me when I had a bad day. I gave everybody a good scare today so I figured it’s be nice to have.” You shrugged to him nonchalantly, not noticing Bakugo had also made quick work of the dish. 

“I’m gonna need seconds of this.” He snorted getting up. 

You didn’t say much else while you ate, eating was a reprieve for you. When you finished your dishes you let out a happy sigh. Finally satiated for the day, you leaned over to Bakugo as he finished eating. “You never gave me a chance to thank you for lunch.” You gave him a smile before getting up to clear the table of empty dishes to return to the kitchen. 

“Shut up.” He snapped, following your actions as you walked into the kitchen. You hummed at his response, figuring he was too prideful. 

“Well, thank you none the less, I would’ve been starved if it weren’t for you.” You snicker, Bakugo just crossed his arms and looked at the time. You heard Mina call for you and ask if you wanted to watch a movie before bed, “Of course!” You call back, “You gonna join us Spice?” Looking back at him with a tired smile. 

“No.” He retorted quickly before leaving the kitchen heading towards his dorm, hearing a faint ‘good night’ from you.

You join your new pink friend who loops her arm in yours pulling you to the living room where you sat almost snuggled between her, a pillow and Ochaco. You were cozy enough to fall asleep but every movement either of the girls made roused you. You remembered seeing this movie once, letting you answer a few questions anyone had without spoilers. “Damn,” You mumbled to yourself with a yawn, realizing how tired you actually were. You shook Mina, whispering that you were heading to bed before sliding over the back of the couch. You waved a lazy good night to the others who noticed and headed to your room. 

——

The next morning you woke to the sun rising and danced across your eye lids, getting a good pop filled stretch before crawling out of the warm comfort of your blankets. Your morning routine was simple, brush your teeth, sort out your hair, wash your face, down a glass of water, make tea, listen to music and practice your morning yoga and tai chi filled exercises. You decided to wear your gym shorts for stretching; not with a creep like Mineta in the house, you thought storing your pajamas. You walk to the patio out front, enjoying the brisk morning air before setting down your tea on the banister. You had your Bluetooth headphones in and placed your phone on the windowsill. You made basic stretches to loosen up before grabbing your ankles as you bent into a full uttanasana, you stretch up pulling your leg to a natarajasana but pulling your foot closer to the back of your head before switching legs. Continuing this for sometime before starting your Tai Chi, ‘fickle habits lead to fickle lives’ your mother mantra played in your mind frustratingly. 

Bakugo has always been the ‘first to bed - first to rise’ type of person. In the dorms this gave him more liberties in the morning, as he had a tendency to walk out of his room to the showers in boxers and maybe a t-shirt most mornings. The last thing he was expecting was to see the electric kettle steaming after it’s obvious use. His eyes darted around, listening keenly to the main lobby of the dorm. He didn’t hear anything inside but spotted a phone outside of the building on the windowsill. Bakugo’s sight narrowed in before realizing he was walking towards it to see who the fuck is outside at this hour, or if someone left it outside on accident. He stepped slowly seeing you stretching on the patio, he couldn’t hear anything but he noticed the device was lit up playing music. Holy shit she’s listening to aggressive rap, he thought spotting the song title. The playlist was labeled ‘✨ GOOD MORNING ✨’ he snorted at the idea of that being morning music, the song changed to some classic punk rock song he recognized. He decided to leave you be, he would never admit it but he absolutely took in the sight of you before shuffling to the bathroom to start his own morning routine. 

When you finished your morning routine you made haste to grab your uniform and run to the shower. When you got out you saw Bakugo in the kitchen preparing what you assumed was his breakfast. “Good morning, Spice.” You said sweetly.

You just hear a grunt from him when you sat down to dry your hair properly, “Morning.” You hear him quietly mutter, as he brought out a plate with his breakfast. “Dry your hair properly.” He hissed, you snorted and continued working the dampness from your hair. 

Once you were satisfied you finished buttoning your uniform top and tying the tie, you left for a moment to return your towel to its home and pull your hair into a bun. Clipping back your mostly dry bangs as you returned to the lobby, “Whatever you made smells great,” You made your way to the kitchen for a second cup of tea. “Want tea?” You asked in passing. He grumbled something but didn’t say no so you made him a glass anyway, letting them steep as you made your way to your room to grab your book bag. When you got back and the tea had settled you placed a glass in front of the seemingly agitated blonde. Making breakfast for yourself and joined him at the table. You ate and flitted through yesterday’s notes.

Bakugo watched you out of the corner of his eye, you were so casual as if you’d been here the whole time. Something about you frustrated him endlessly, he figured he’d be able to narrow it down later. He begrudgingly accepted the tea, it was spicier than he expected. He wondered if this was a jab at him with the shitty nickname you’d bestowed him with.

—

A couple weeks passed quickly as you adjusted to your life at UA, you spent your early mornings with Bakugo before the other lazily made their way to the lobby, class began, then gym, then lunch, more classes, back to the dorms for a mix of homework and playtime with dinner somewhere in the mix. 

One weekend you decided to sleep in, which was a mistake as Mina had invited herself into your room and tackled your sleeping form. Eliciting a great squeal from you and you both ended up on floor with a loud *THUD*. “You know. I’m gonna skip the ‘what is wrong with you’ and go straight for the why, Mina.” You groaned, groveling on the floor at her excited stupor.

“We’re going to the mall! Get up! Get dressed!” She was bouncing at you as you slumped upon the floor, calves still on your bed. “Come ooonnn (Y/N/N)!!”

You snorted at her, “Fine, give me 20 minutes.” With that she was gone as fast as she came, you stood and pulled out your casual clothes you now rarely got to wear. Throwing on a pair of high waisted skinny jeans, a fitted white crop top, a thin burnt amber cardigan that went down to your calves, topped with honey brown softly pointed ankle boots. You left your hair loose aside from pulling your bangs upright to clip them back, providing a small bumped look you could live with. You grabbed your small purse that slings across your shoulders only holding your phone and wallet and a pair of round darkly tinted sun glasses before meeting up with the Bakugang. Mina gaped at your outfit excitedly, all four boys on the other hand just stared. “Too much? It’s just casual wear.” You shrugged and offered a soft but awkward smile.

“Shut up, you look great!” Mina snorted, she wore a loose crop top that hung just above the belt line of her skinny jeans, “You have plenty of time to check (Y/N/N) today idiots, let’s go!” She looped her arm with yours and almost dragging you along.

You never cared to much for shopping, you had what you needed and what you liked but you enjoyed spending time with the Bakugang outside of UA. Mina asked you about what your makeup preferences were and you admitted that you knew little regarding the topic. The boys whined to eat, “I’m always game for food.” You snorted, you were being dragged around more than anything anyway. 

You all sat around a table in the mall talking about nonsense, eating your respective lunches. They quickly got used to just how much you ate, much to your relief. When lunch was over the six of you ended up in an arcade, you and Denki played a shooting game with the big plastic colorful guns. Denki grabbed the red plastic cabled hand gun leaving you with the bright orange cabled shot gun. You snorted when he thought he had the better gun. “HOW ARE YOU SO GOOD AT THIS?” He whined as he watched you take shot after shot.

“The keener the eye the better the hero, also my dad was big into hunting back in (H/L).” You chuckled, “Both of my parents are Quirkless so they reveled in what they could.” You quickly beat the game, re-holstering the plastic gun you collect your almost endless stream of tickets. “You can imagine I was a huge surprise for them.” Sero snorted and agreed at your last comment. 

You made an abysmal attempt to fold up your tickets when Kirishima pulled you into some game him and Bakugo were playing. You were sure the blonde would get you guys kicked out as he seemed to be intent on destroying the game itself. You laughed loudly at him yelling “DIE!!” And “I’LL KILL YOU!!” At the console. Mina pulled you to play skee-ball next to them, you made for a mediocre game as you couldn’t stop laughing at Bakugo’s video game rage.

You managed though, collecting more tickets and playing another round as Mina, Sero, Denki and you made a bet. The person with the lowest score would have to calm the blonde down. “Game on!” Denki puffed, you smirked cheekily as the challenge began. 

After about 5 minutes the four of you were neck in neck with high scores but you fell short of third place. You groaned, collecting your tickets. Mina and Denki wiggled their eyebrows at you and Sero just laughed at your dismay, “Fine!” You laughed, walking over the the blonde on the verge of explosion. “Hey, Spice?” You placed your gloved hand on his shoulder. He snapped at you, scowling at your disruption. “Help me pick out a prize with my tickets?” You didn’t wear your usual smile, your brows knitted, concerned about the potential problem if he blew up the game.

Bakugo could almost breathe fire at you in his rage, but the concerned look you gave him threw him off. He just tossed up his hands and almost growled before crossing his arms letting you usher him to the prize table with a relieved smile. Sero, Mina, Denki and Kirishima were floored; their jaws slack at the ease at which you had simmered him and removed him from the game he almost blew up. They all looked at each other with devious grins as they huddled together. 

At the prize table you had to put all your tickets into some machine that counted them out, “Thanks for agreeing to help me.” You smiled up at him as he unraveled the mess of tickets you had. He just grunted and huffed in response, he wasn’t a big talker outside of when he screamed about being the best or when he got mad. When he did talk you could tell he put thought into his words, even when he wasn’t talking to you. When all the tickets were counted out you were directed to the charm section of the prize table. “What do you think?” You pestered him.

He squatted down, eyeing most of the girly charms. He didn’t know what girls liked, he watched you look over the more boyish themed charms. “I don’t know,” He hissed, “What’s the point of this anyway.” 

“Making memories.” You smiled into the glass, spotting a charm that caught your eye. “Oh! Can I look at that one?” You asked the staff behind the counter, the pulled out a little bob-omb phone charm. You snickered at it, “How do we feel about this one?” You handed it to him, he just stared at it with knitted brows before scowling at you. “What??”

“It’s a bomb.” He said.

“So are you.” You snorted and rolled your eyes. “I think it’s cute.”

With a over dramatic “TCH.” He handed it back, “Well I guess that’s the one then.” He rolled his own eyes, “Why did you ask for my help if you didn’t need it?”

You handed you ticket stub to the staff and looped the charm onto your phone, “I didn’t know I wouldn’t need your help.” You pushed him back towards the group, “Come on, I think everyone is burnt out on games.”

Before leaving the arcade everyone found a one of those kawaii photo booths. Mina somehow managed to usher everyone in, her and the other three boys pushed you and Bakugo together, you took the standard photos, Kirishima managed to swindle the ‘Glamouroki’ face out of Bakugo for the final ‘funny face’ photo. You, Mina and Denki burst into tears of laughter at the scene, Sero wheezed into the side of the booth. The face was now encapsulated for all of time in the photo booth six sticker sheets. You slipped the photo behind your clear phone case, making sure not to stick it down. “God. We have to keep this forever.” Mina cried out.

“That was solid gold.” You wheezed out wiping your face, Bakugo shouted and hit Kirishimas hardened head when he figured out it was photographed. “Holy shit, that couldn’t have been more perfect.” You panted taking a deep breath.

“Let grab a few drinks before heading home.” Kirishima cried out from his own laughter, you all agreed. Heading to a vending machine on your way out.

——

The next day after finishing weekend homework the bakugang decided to have a movie night. You noticed that Mina and the boys had been pushing you and Bakugo together, not that you minded but you couldn’t pin point why so you shrugged off the thought. It had been decided that the four of them would prepare snack and drinks if you and Bakugo would pick a movie. “Soo- they’re clearly plotting something,” You joked at the blonde as you both dig through his movie collection. “Should we pick a movie they can’t handle as revenge?” This elicited a laugh out of him.

“I didn’t think ‘little miss sunshine and rainbows’ would come up with such a devious idea.” He snorted at you.

“Sunshine and Rainbows only appear after a dark storm.” You smirked while pointing at him. 

He laughed, you almost dropped the DVD you were looking at when you heard it. “Oh, this is gonna be great.” The two of you picked the most gruesome and twisted movie you could find in his collection. Putting it in his DVD player before the others returned. You and Bakugo were chuckling at each other, unwittingly it seemed to excite the other four. You and Bakugo sat on his bed as the rest sat choice-fully on the floor. Denki turned off the lights as Mina sorted out snacks so everyone could reach them and passed around drinks.

They movie started fine, easily pulling them in, you stifled laughter. Bakugo was much better at doing that, though he had a smirk plastered onto his face. You adjusted yourself to pulling your knees up to your chest comfortably, to an outside perspective your were preparing for the movie to get more twisted, from Bakugo’s perspective he just noted a smile that curled at your lips behind your hands that rested on your knees. He started to get irritated with how much attention he paid to you. The simple ways you shifted as the movie dragged on, the excitement that built up causing you to bite your bottom lip. He had the urge to smack you and telling you to stop biting your lip. He shook his head at the thought. Nope, nu-uh. These are not thoughts he was ready to have. He forced his attention from you and focused on the movie with knitted brows. 

You adjusted again, crossing your legs and grasping your ankles in anticipation. Part of you was totally enthralled in the movie, you love this stuff, the other part was excited for the wicked prank you and Bakugo had setup for your poor unwitting friends. The first scene that got to them came, enticing a loud set of screeches from the four on the floor and you had gasped at the scene jumping a little and then a chuckle at their responses. You looked back at Bakugo who was already looking at you and beamed, “Success.” You whispered at him, he smirked back and nodded before your attention was back on the screen.

By the time the movie was over you firmly believe you traumatized the four, “WHY WOULD YOU PUT SOMETHING LIKE THAT ON.” Mina whisper yelled.

You and Bakugo glanced at each other from where you sat on the bed and laughed softly, “I thought it was a good movie.” You retorted. 

“You guys are a bunch of babies, if you want to watch something soft you pick the movie.” Bakugo snorted waving a hand at the movie collection, it was movie night after all.

Denki looked a little brain fried as Mina and Kirishima darted to the movie collection to pick something to quell their pained minds. You laughed again, sliding off the bed as you looked at the time. “It’s getting late, we can afford one more movie but I’m gonna go change.”

You made your way out of Bakugo’s room to yours, you tossed your hair up in a messy bun and threw on a baggy shirt, a pair of shorts and a warm cardigan. Quickly making your way back to his room when you hear bickering. “Don’t you dare, that’s (Y/N/N)’s!” You hear Mina say. 

You poke your head in to see her wrangling your phone from Bakugo’s grip, trying to get the photo you slid into your case out. “Oh-ho.” You piped out, “I see, I can’t trust you with my belongings.” You snorted, knowing how he felt about the hilarious photo. You slid in quickly snatching your phone from them both before finding your barely warm spot still on the bed. 

Mina huffed in success and Bakugo just crossed his arms, “It’s just a stupid photo.” He grumbled.

“It’s my stupid photo, Spice.” You said, “And if you try to take it again I’ll print large poster versions of it and plaster it to every wall in the school.” You chided at him with an almost evil smirk.

He groaned and Mina turned the lights back off as the next movie played. You felt Bakugo’s knee tap yours, as if it was some silent confirmation of your words. Your smile softened a bit and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. His scowl still ever present but softer than his usual. Kirishima yawned, causing everyone else to yawn. You cozied yourself in your sweater against the wall as you watched the movie with half lidded eyes. Your shoulders slouched a bit and you ended up leaning you arm into Bakugo, who just stiffened at the action. This kept you awake through the movie, not that you were paying it any attention to it.

Bakugo on the other hand was now wide awake due to your sudden touch into his arm, this is not how he expected things to go. Though your prank was an absolute success, he wasn’t prepared for the aftermath. He was irritated and confused at your current actions, you should be angry at him not leaning into him! Did he want you to be mad at him? He couldn’t think straight.

As soon as the movie ended he ushered everyone out, even you in your sleepy stupor. You and Mina just looped arms and made your way back to the girls side of the building, triple checking that you had your phone. 

You knocked out quickly when you got to your room, you had a great weekend. Bakugo didn’t have such luck, he just assumed you showed anger different ways and made a mental list of what to do about it before he had the luxury of sleep. 

——

The next morning you were back to your usual routine, however you found you weren’t the first one up. You watched the blonde cook in the kitchen before starting your routine, you got ready to exercise when you decided to disturb him. “Good morning, Spice. Food smells great, as usual.” 

You watch his frame stiffen, but grunt as usual, “Morning, (Y/N).” He groaned, maybe he slept on the wrong side of the bed? You thought, continuing your stare at him.

“I’m gonna work out, come grab me if you need anything, okay?” You offered but he just waved you off stiffly. You got to your work out, followed by a shower and drying your hair properly so you didn’t have to listen to Bakugo whine about it. Making your way back to the kitchen to make tea for the both of you. The blonde just stiffened at your presence in the kitchen so you made quick work of the tea, this morning was different though. Bakugo had made breakfast for you too, uh oh. You thought, something must’ve happened. “Are you alright?” You asked staring in surprise, “Not that I’m not elated to try your cooking but-“ You were cut off by him shaking his head and starting to eat.

You watched him for a minute before started to eat as well, holy shit. Was all you could think, “This is really good.” You said softly, smiling as you quickly ate. 

He still didn’t say anything, you wondered what snapped in him. You finished quickly and when he was done he collected your dishes. Finishing his cooking in the kitchen after the rice cooker pinged. You flitted through your papers making sure everything was in order  for the day when you hear a *thump* beside you. You looked over and it was a larger than average bento, wrapped neatly. You just cocked an eyebrow at it and looked at Bakugo, “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s wrong?” He’s clearly broken this morning. “Are you sick?” He scowled down at you, differently than you’ve seen before. He just let out a frustrated noise at your confused behavior. 

You watch him for a moment before anything happens, he just pushes out the chair beside you and sits crossing his arms scowling differently at you. “The last time you were weirdly quiet and gave me lunch as when you blew up my hand...” You lean your head back thinking before it clicks. “Oh my god, is this about the sticker??”

He just groans in frustration, “Obviously! Your probably furious with me!” He hissed, watching your form relax, no smile in sight just concern. “I don’t fucking know!” He threw his hands out. 

You put your hand to your face, a chuckle escaped you and turned to a hearty laugh, “Katsuki.” He flinched, that’s the first time you’ve said his name. “I’m not mad, that sticker is just a fucking sticker. I only wanted to keep it because it’s an original. Those photo booths have an option to email the photos, so I have a digital copy.” You pull out your phone and hand it to him. “If you don’t want me to have it to the point of this much guilt or frustration, take it. I won’t fight you, Spice.”

He stared at you in awe, now he just felt like a fucking idiot. His brain was addled with you over some stupid fucking sticker. What is going on with me?? You seemed to agree that he was losing his shit, not that you even knew it was about you. He pushed your phone back towards you and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t worry about it.” Was all he said before he got up to clean, leaving you with both photo and bento. He doesn’t say anything to you for the rest of the morning as he disappears to finish getting ready for school. 

——

A few days passed and Kirishima brought up the provisional licensing exams that passed before you transferred in. “He probably would have passed if you were there (Y/N).” Kirishima says in passing. You had asked him how they did the testing in Japan.

You hummed at the comment before looking at the redhead, “I don’t think I could have made him be nice to people.” You shrugged a bit, he only failed because he’s abrasive. “He doesn’t yell at me because I’ve proven I can kick his ass.” The comment makes you both chuckle but Bakugo just shouts out in the distance, you both only laugh harder. 

That morning the class found out about the work study program, you weren’t here for the sports festival so your options were more limited. Ochaco wanted to introduce you to GunHead but he wasn’t taking work study students; Aizawa said Amajiki-Senpai would introduce you and Kirishima to Fatgum. The two of you fist bump at the offer knowing full well that your friend harassed the poor kid into it. No one could foresee the events that followed. 

You found yourself in a meeting discussing the take down of a Yukuza crime syndicate and the rescue of a small girl named Eri. The details of the situation she was in made your stomach churn. Over the next few days you found yourself hanging out with Kirishima, Ochaco, Asui and Izuku more. You all were brooding over the up coming event, your normal routine didn’t change much but the event pulled the 5 of you together. On movie night Denki decided to bring it up to you and Kirishima, you both just kind of looked at each other before making up some bullshit answer. “Honestly, the work study program is just a lot more than we expected. We were just brooding about it.” Was all you could manage, you rubbed the back of your neck uncomfortably. You hear Bakugo click his tongue at the blatant lie but you couldn’t defend yourself. It was getting harder to wear your usual smile while waiting for a message for the raid. 

—

The day of the raid was devastating, even though the raid itself went by a lot faster than you had expected. You rode in the ambulance with Sir Night Eye, keeping him stable until you arrived at the hospital. You can’t regrow other people’s missing organs but you did everything you could, you just sobbed for most of the time. You were lucky you didn’t receive any damages that would have you stuck in the hospital, you helped heal everyone’s wounds to get them out sooner but it was draining. A few hero’s who claimed to be in your debt brought food to you as you ran around the hospital. Forcing you to sit down and eat, you thanked them telling them they didn’t have to but they waved off the comment.

——

A few days later you were sitting, curled up in the corner and arm of a couch, in the common room in the middle of the night, you didn’t want to be stuffed in your room anymore. You felt like your tears dried out, you just sat staring at your phone screen when you heard foot steps from behind. You payed no mind to it as they walked into the kitchen, you’ve been staring at the same page on your phone trying to focus until the other person spoke, “It’s the middle of the night, go to bed dumbass.” You looked up to see Bakugo, he was right but something made tears bubble in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill. 

Bakugo had just run down to get a bottle of water when he saw you sitting on the couch, you were just on your phone so he couldn’t understand why you weren’t doing that in your room. After he spoke up he turned to face you, he saw tears in your eyes as they slowly ran down your cheeks. He panicked he’d never admit that, he walked over and squat down in front of you. He didn’t say anything but he just stared up at you with his brows knitted. “S-sorry. Ah-I just, I d-don’t-“ You stuttered and rubbed your eyes furiously.

He clicked his tongue, “Shut up.” He hissed, he hears what ever you were going to say hitch in your throat and you try to stifle your tears. “That’s not- ugh.“ He cut himself off, comforting people wasn’t in the list of things he was good at. Bakugo gets up from were he was squatting and walks back into the kitchen. When he gets back he hands you water bottle and sits down next to you. “Drink.”

Your hands were shaking but you managed to open the bottle and take a sip, Bakugo finally got a glance at the mess behind your hands. Your (E/C) eyes were red and puffy, the skin around them was raw, your nose and cheeks were irritated from being rubbed at. His brows knit further watching you struggle to put the lid back on. He just snatched the lid and puts it back on for you, “T-thanks.” You sputtered at him, “Sorry, I’m a mess aren’t I?” You force our a small chuckle, he only clicks his tongue.

“Stop apologizing when you’ve done nothing wrong!” He whisper yells at you, you nod at him from behind your hands as they made their way back to your face. “Stop that!” He grabbed your wrists causing you to look at him, when he hoped you’d stop abusing your pretty face he let go of your wrists and grabbed your ankles. You almost yelped at the action as he just lifted them up and aggressively scooted closer, dropping your legs over his lap. “What the fuck is so wrong that’s got Little Miss Sunshine in tears?” He hissed at you. 

You almost gaped at him, who is this and what have they done with Bakugo?? As soon as you snapped back to reality you wrapped your arms around your thighs, tears still dripping out of your eyes. “I just, I feel like a failure.” You go on to explain the raid, how messed up Kirishima and Tamaki-senpai got and the loss of Sir Night Eye. “I should’ve been able to do more!” You whisper yelled through tears, “My quirk is molecular regeneration for fucks sake!” You dropped your head into your knees, sobbing quietly.

Bakugo had crossed his arms and listened as you explained everything. Kirishima was his best friend sure but even he knows there’s a limit to every quirk. “(Y/N).” You lifted your head to look at him. “You’re not a fucking miracle worker.” He adjusted in his seat, propping an arm up on the back of the couch and leaning his head into his fist, you felt him adjust which made you focus for the first time on his close proximity. You went to say something back but nothing came out, you dropped your chin onto your knees and let the tears stream thinking about what he said. You knew he was right, you used your quirk a ton before Kirishima and Sir Night Eye were even brought out, even the medic staff thanked you greatly for keeping Sir Night Eye stable the whole way to the hospital. “This is a part of working as a Hero.” He grumbled.

You stayed quiet for some time before responding, “I know.” You tilted to the side and leaned into the blonde, your tears slowing. Your head and knees leaned into his chest lightly, you could feel him stiffen at the action. You went to sit up properly when you felt him pull you back roughly, you let out a small ‘oof’ at the action. The whole situation bubbles up in your stomach, causing you to giggle through what’s left of your tears. “If you keep being nice to me I might have to call you Sweets instead of Spice.” You snorted out softly. 

You could feel him stifle a chuckle before clicking his tongue, “Shut up!” He growled, “Don’t even think about telling anyone I was soft with you once!”

You chuckle a bit and lift your head to look at him, wiping your face with your shirt. “You really think I’d share such a sappy moment about you? Nuh-uh, this is my memory.” You chuckle a bit and lean back into him, missing the blush that decorated his scowling face. The two of you stayed like that for awhile before he convinced you that you were tired and should go to bed, you groaned and yawned before you begrudgingly agreed. 

The next day Bakugo invited told you to go with him to see Kirishima, you agreed a bit reluctantly. He basically dragged you by the wrist the entire way there, you blushed over the action but didn’t argue. When you arrived Bakugo watched you in a bit of confusion as you were basically on a first name basis with the nurses, and older nurse had pulled you into a big hug that elicited a loud whine from you. They laughed and sent the two of you up to the room where Kirishima was. When you opened up the door you found the redhead was wide awake, he offered a bright smile that just made you cry again. Visible panic set in his face and Bakugo dragged you in by the hand to sit next to him, he explained the situation to his friend and the two let you sob. “I heard about everything you did.” Kirishima said, “I get where you’re coming from but you did a lot (Y/N/N). Like a lot-a lot.” He told Bakugo about what he heard from the nurses and Fatgum about your frenzy around the hospital with all the hero’s and officers who were at the raid.

“I’m sorry for getting upset.” You mumbled, “I just feel stupid. I know what I signed up for when I decided to go into the field of Heroism, but this was just a kick to the gut.” You rubbed your temples a bit, “Honestly, having my arm blown up was better than being this unprepared.” You sputtered, this earned a chuckle from the two. 

“Dumbass, I told you you’re not a miracle worker!” Bakugo spat and dropping his palm on the top of your head, ruffling your hair aggressively. “Now stop being upset!” He hissed, you and Kirishima laughed at his aggressive ‘kindness’. The three of you talked for awhile, you offered to heal your friend more but he declined saying he’d be out soon anyway. You pouted but understood.

When you left Bakugo was still dragging you by your hand, “Thanks.” You said softly, smiling a bit. “That made me feel better.” You squeezed his hand lightly when he grunted at you. Such a weirdo, you wondered what’s gotten into him lately. 

“Shut up.” He shouted, “It’s fucking weird seeing you upset.” 

“Is that your version of saying you like seeing me happy?” You sniggered, this only elicited his grip on your hand to tighten. Your chuckles were cut short and you blushed loudly at the situation, he likes seeing me happy? You internally questioned.

After the trip to the hospital you became way too aware of Bakugo’s presence, anytime you bumped into him or happened to be too close your ears burned with blush. You were finally feeling more like yourself and now you felt like a wrench was thrown into your mind. As far as you could tell Mina was (of course) the first to notice. She pulled you into Jiro’s room, causing you to yelp. “Spill it (Y/N/N)!” She put her hands on her hips while wearing a smug grin. Jiro and Ochaco just stared at you two confused.

“What.” You chocked out.

She wiggles her eyebrows, “You’re all blushy with Bakugo! That’s what!” You almost tackled her at the statement.

“DON’T SAY THAT.” You shouted, the other girls were quick to pick up the situation. Mina grabbed your wrists and the other girls started to poke at you, you squealed loudly from being tickled. 

All the yelling caused concern in the other dorm-mates who knocked on the door. Momo opened it up revealing herself, Toru and Iida. “(L/N) has a crush on someone! We’re trying to get her to confess the details!” Jiro tittered.

“DON’T LISTEN TO HER. SOMEONE HELP ME.” You cried out from being tickled, Momo ushered Iida to leave and the girls entered the room to poke at you. “NO!” You shouted while laughing. 

“Just tell us what happened!” Ochaco teased you finally agreed and huffed for air.

You collapsed on Jiro’s bed, “I was really upset the other night Bakugo basically said he likes seeing me happy and now I’m like- hyperaware of his presence and the things he’s done. I feel like I’m losing my mind!” You whined softly.

“What’s he done?” Momo asked, you sat up and explained what he did after the sticker incident. You absolutely showed them the sticker and told them that he’s the one who’s been making you lunches. Mina explained how you easily calmed him from almost destroying the arcade game, the other girls just gave you the knowing look. 

“Girl.” Mina facepalms, trying her hardest not to laugh. “How are you both are so fucking dense?”

You throw your hands up defensively, “I don’t know!” You yell out when there’s another knock at the door.

Jiro gets up to open it, and speak of the devil. “Boy Wonders here.” This elicits an unintelligible shout from you. 

“Wha- AGH. Can you stop making her yell.” Bakugo glowered at your friend. 

“I don’t think that’s on me, it’s just.… Girl talk.” She retorts with a snicker. He hears you groan in the background and sees a pillow thrown, your face is undeniably blushing. 

He puts his hand on the door and leans in over the girl. “(Y/N), stop yelling.” He says sternly, your face drops into the bed as you wave him off. The girls are laughing at the interaction but he just scowls at them and walks off. 

“Can someone just bury me already, I’m dying.” You hissed from the bed. 

“So, he obviously likes you.” Jiro says walking back.

“Ohmygod. No he doesn’t!” You blurted.

“If he didn’t like you he would’ve told us all to ‘shut the fuck up’ or ‘keep it down’. He made that about you.” Mina jeered at you.

“Bakugo only feels anger!” You laughed, you knew that was a lie but he’d kill you if you said otherwise.

“Maybe he just feels less angry with you?” Ochaco snorted. 

“I’ve never seen him be that considerate to anyone, let alone be as nice as you’ve mentioned.” Momo said.

“You’re in denial because you just noticed your feelings for him.” Toru snickered. 

Mina laughed and grinned deviously, “If you’re so sure why don’t you ask him?” 

“Wh-what? N-NO! I can’t do that!” You stammered, sitting up quickly. “If he liked me he would’ve said something by now! Can any of you imagine him just letting something he wants get away from him?” The girls looked between each other, you were right.

“OH.” Toru piped. “What if we convince him your interested in someone else? If he likes you he’ll do something about it right?” You could hear the implications in her voice. 

You frowned deeply, teetering your head back. “That’s... Fair? I guess, but what if he like, tries to interrogate you guys?” You question, the girls smile and usher you out to make a plan.

Over the next several days the girls in passing talk about you and your crush, making sure it comes up in conversation near you and Bakugo. You always blush whenever they do, making sure you get a good jab or pinch in every time. 

Bakugo is getting increasingly frustrated, you guys hang out all the time. What was this stupid crush about? Why was he angry about it? Why did he want to confront you over it? This frustration has him blowing up over everything. He’s managed to break pens, pencils, cups, plates, a book, and a few other miscellaneous objects. Denki and Sero try to get you to calm him down but you said he hasn’t talked to you or made the problem apparent so there’s nothing you can do. 

“I think this is about your crush.” Denki mentions, which for you was the final straw you snapped, you were so tired of this crush nonsense. 

“Denki.” You smile at him your gaze was dark in frustration, he looks over at you. “If I have to hear anything else about that topic I will flip your skin inside out, rub salt on it and throw vinegar at you.” You smile widens evilly. “Got it?” He just nodded furiously and runs off. 

You drop your head on the counter where you sat at the kitchen bar, groaning loudly. You feel an aggressive tapping on your shoulder seconds later. You snap in their direction with a scowl, it’s Bakugo. Your expression softens when you’re met by an equal glare, “Come with me. Now.” He commanded, you follow him reluctantly. You weren’t paying much mind but you slowly realized you were heading to the boys dorms, more specifically his room.

You’ve been in there dozens of times, why are you so nervous now? You let out a sigh, trying to calm yourself as you made your way into the room. You sat on the edge of his bed, like you had many times before. “What can I do for you, Spice?” You ask, smiling at his glare. 

He started pacing back and forth, he isn’t quite sure why he brought you here. He’s just mad and it has something to do with you. “What is this whole crush nonsense about?”

You froze a bit, “I have a crush on someone and the girls weaseled information out of me.” You rubbed the back of your neck, the statement was pointed, it wasn’t a complete lie. 

He just stared at you in disbelief, all your actions proved you were telling the truth. “Who?” He hissed, less asking and more demanding. You looked down at your feet, you didn’t say anything. “Is it Kirishima?” He snapped, I mean it would make sense with how broken up you were with his injuries. You stared at him, squinting your eyes a bit. Giving him the ‘are you serious?’ expression. “Tell me it’s not Denki? Dudes a fucking idiot.”

You laughed out at this comment, “No, dumbass. I’m not that desperate.” You roll your eyes, you watch the gears turn in his head furiously. It’s not clicking. “For fucks sake, Spice. You really can’t figure it out?”

He scowls at you, you just groan and jump from your seat. You walk up, get in his face and grab him by his shirt collar. You pull his face into your for a kiss. It takes a few seconds for him to grab you by your waist and pull you up, kissing deeper. He bit at you lip as if asking to enter your mouth, you comply easily while you wrap you arms around his neck. Your fingers find his hair when you both pull away for air. “You could’ve just said something, dumbass.”

“Oh, I am not the only dumbass here, Sweets.” You snickered at him. A frustrated blush tints his cheeks at the new nickname. 

“Don’t call me that.” He snaps pulling you in aggressively for another kiss.

You tug at his hair a bit at the kiss, “Only when we’re alone.” You retort between kisses. “God, I don’t know if I should kill the girls or thank them.” You pant out, he sends you a questioning look. You chuckle a bit, “The whole crush nonsense was their tactic to force us to admit we had feelings for each other.” Bakugo’s face burned with frustration but he found that he was far less frustrated after the aggressive make out session. Your phone pinged with a text from Mina.

Mina:

Are you making out or killing each other? Hurry up it’s movie night!

Received 5:59PM 

(Y/N):

Yes

Sent 6:00PM (seen)

(Y/N):

You hurry up we’re already here

Sent 6:00PM (seen)

You removed yourself from his grasp and grabbed his hand. “Come on, let’s pick a movie and pretend fight so they’ll shut up.” He just rolled his eyes and smirked. Not too long after the rest of the Bakusquad (minus Kirishima) made their way to his room, followed by a few of the other curious girls. “You’re so fucking weird why would buy that??”

“It’s a classic! Dumbass, why don’t you have good taste in movies?” He hissed. 

“Ooh, excuse me for having my own opinion!” You snapped, it was so hard not to laugh.

“What have we done..” Mina groans.

You both look at the door, “Shut up!” You both hissed in unison, snapping back to face each other.

“Don’t copy me!” You yelled.

“You’re one to talk!” He snorted. 

Mina ushered the girls off while her and Sero broke up the fight, little do they know it’s totally fake. Mina picks a LOTR movie at random. “Just sit down and let’s enjoy a movie!” She snapped. You both fake hissed at each other as you sat in your normal spots on his bed, a bit closer than normal. 

While the others got caught up in the movie you silently laughed to get it out of your system, Bakugo snorted quietly at the whole situation. 

At some point during the movie when you adjusted your sitting to stretch your legs Bakugo decided to lay across your lap. Not like a normal person would with their head in you lap, but on his side. The side of his abdomen pressed down your thighs as he propped him head up on his hand. Elbow pressed into the mattress, he snicker as you readjusted. You didn’t mind as much as he thought you did, you were focused on the movie. You had absentmindedly started to comb your fingers through his hair, causing him to get tired. The movie was about 4 hours long, which ran into the time you and the blonde typically went to sleep. Bakugo had already fallen asleep across your lap, you had crossed your arms and started dozing off. 

When the movie was over, Mina, Denki and Sero got up to go get ready for bed. When they turned on the light they all stared at the sight before them, you were sat dozed off peacefully against the wall. Your arms crossed head still slightly upright, one leg out and one leg bent with the foot on the opposing knee. While Bakugo was laying on his chest in your lap with one arm under and wrapped around your bent leg with his face buried into your thigh like it was a pillow. Mina was quick to silence her phone and snap a dozen photos, “Should we wake them?” Sero whispers.

Denki shook his head, “You really want to wake the two scariest people we know?” The other two agree and quickly escape the room and turn the light back off.

——

Bakugo woke up in the middle of the night, he was warm and cold in all the wrong places. He rubbed his face into what he quickly realized wasn’t a pillow and shot upright. There you were, totally asleep. Same position as the Bakusquad had left you in, with the softest snores escaping you. He just stared at you in shock before he reaches over for his phone. It’s 2 am, he debates whether to wake you or not. He decided to just scoop you up and lay you down on his bed, there’s no getting out of this one. He gets up to change into his sleepwear and climb back into bed, you were already in comfortable clothing (shorts and a baggy t-shirt). He pulls the covers over you and lays facing the wall with his back to you under the covers. 

The sun flickered against your eyelids and woke you as usual in the morning, but something was different this morning. You felt a warm and heavy weight holding you down, when you opened you eyes you realized what’s wrong. You were still in Bakugo’s room, you felt him adjust in his sleep which forced you to assess the situation. He was big spooning you, in his bed, one arm under your neck and the other arm wrapped around your waist, hand under your shirt tucked beside your bare ribs, lightly snoring into your neck where his face was nuzzled. Holy shit, was all your brain could process. 

You decided to sneakily grab your phone, double check it was on silent mode and snap a few pictures. You now have dirt on him forever. You attempt to pry yourself from his sleeping grip but the second you manage to sit up right his sleeping form curls around your waist. As cute as this is you wanted to go change and get ready for the day, “Hey, Sweets?” You whine at him, he adjusts in his spot. “Bakugo.” You press further, he grumbled but nothing further. You think for a moment and lean down a bit, “Katsuki.” You say in the most seductive voice you can manage, this quickly pries his eyes open. It takes him a solid 30 seconds to realize the position he’s in, how the fuck did this happen?? He doesn’t quite move as he feels his face heat up. “Good morning. Please free me so I can get ready, I’ve been trying to get you up for like 5 minutes.” You yawned out to him, stretching a bit. When he finally let go he just lazily dropped his face in his pillow that now smelt like you, groaning softly.

You looked back at his figure, frustrated noises escaping him as his neck turned red. You just laughed softly before making your way to get your day started. 

Bakugo came down with a few other, later than usual when Mina finally tackled you in the lounge. “You’ll never believe what I got a picture of last night!” She snickered.

You laughed softly, “Oh I have an idea, considering what I got a picture of this morning.” You both laughed at this, “You’re such an ass, why didn’t you wake me up?” 

Mina just shows her pictures triumphantly in response, you ask her to send them to you when you show her the pictures you got this morning. Her jaw looked like it was about to fall off when Bakugo sped over to see. “DELETE THAT.” 

“Absolutely not.” You locked your phone and hid it away. “You’re so cute when your asleep, so peaceful.” You gushed, Mina was actively losing her marbles at the interaction. “Get over it Spice, you can delete them if you beat me in a fight.” You winked at him, the whole speech burned a blush into his face as he stomped off shouting. “He’s so cute when he’s embarrassed.” You snickered to Mina as you both stood up. 

“SHUT UP!” He bellowed out from the kitchen, causing you to laugh harder. 

[hey-hamlet]

53- don’t praise the all mighty au?

Prompt 1 done! I’m taking a few more (got around 7?) that will be put out over the next week and a bit. If you have anything you wanted to send but didn’t now is your last chance!

Ok, so this got even darker than I was expecting it to. TW for abuse of all kinds being mentioned, gaslighting (kinda?), and physical abuse being seen. No happy ending is given in the story but know that midnight went to beat the absolute tar out of All Might. 

Quote: God may judge you but his sins outnumber your own 

Fic under the read more. 

In the aftermath of Kamino, Izuku saw much less of All Might. He still reported to the UA gym to train but his mentor was nowhere to be seen. Instead, other heroes would often be in, teaching him their own little bits about heroics, including a memorable 3 hours with Nezu in which they’d talked quirks. Still, it wasn’t doing much for his training, so he made up the slack during the day. After they moved into the dorms it didn’t change, All Might was missing, and any time he tried to wander into the staff room he was quickly ushered out by another teacher. It was perplexing.

His hopes had been pretty low when he entered the gym that morning, but he was surprised to see All Might ready and waiting for him.

“Kept up your schedule I see! Well done Izuku!” Izuku felt a happy trill run through him at the praise.

“Of course sir! It’d been a little difficult after we moved into the dorms though.”

“Why is that, my boy?” Izuku frowned slightly.

“Aizawa-sensei won’t let me train after 6pm so I’ve had to push some stuff forward, but I’ve been getting it all done sir, promise!” All Might sighed, resting a bony hand on his shoulder.

“I knew he disliked me, but I never would have imagined he’d take it out on you.” Izuku froze, mind spinning.

“What- What do you mean, sir?” All Might gave him a look that made Izuku squirm. It seemed to say ‘are you really that dense?’.

“Because, my boy,” he said slowly, over-enunciating in a way that made Izuku flush with embarrassment “He’s cutting down on your training. He wants to make you a poorer hero. I mean – we are clearly connected with all that training you need – so it doesn’t take a genius to work out you are my successor of sorts. I wouldn’t have expected Aizawa to be that sort of man, but it shows you can’t trust anyone these days.”

“I-“ It made sense, but Aizawa had been so good to him, so kind he couldn’t imagine it. Thought made him want to cry, but he bit his lip. “Then I’ll just have to trainer harder, right sir?” All Might grinned, a sickly-sweet thing.

“Exactly, my boy.”

They train for a while like that, All Might pushing him to use more an more of his quirk until he felt like there was fire in his veins. He kept up his hero’s-grin, as cheerful and welcoming as he could make it.

A crash in the distance momentarily distracted him, causing him to fumble the landing of a particularly complex flip. A gasp of pain tore itself from his lips as his ankle rolled with the full brunt of his weight and gravity. He bit his lip, praying All Might hadn’t heard.

“Did that hurt, Izuku?” He shook his furiously head, willing the tears back. This would only hurt more if he started crying. “Answer me.” Growled the hero as he loomed over his crumpled charge.

“N-No.” He said shakily, cringing at the way emotion shook his voice. All Might grabbed his hair roughly, the sudden sharp pain finally sending the tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Oh, you’re crying now.” There were equal parts disappointment and anger in his tone and it made something in him curl unpleasantly. “I’ll give you something to cry about-“

 Aizawa raced toward the gym. No one had seen All Might, no one had seen Midoriya. Anger and fear warred inside him. If that washed-up old pro dared hurt his kid again-

Before he’d even opened the door, he was angry. All Might’s words couldn’t be made out, but his tone – dark and growling – was plain as day. He threw the door open to see the skeletal man holding a whimpering Izuku by the hair, a bright red handprint across his face.

“Let. Him. Go.” He snarled, quirk flaring; unbidden. All Might dropped the kid like so much trash; Midoriya laying there in a shaking heap. He rushed to his student’s side, holding the boys head in his hands to look at the damage. The glassy look in his eyes was scaring him, sobs falling unhindered from his lips.

“Sir stop – sir please, not again, Sir don’t. Sir please it hurts don’t-“ Aizawa dropped his hands like he’d been burnt. Midoriya curled into a tight ball, sobbing silently as he shook. The implications of what he’d just said spun around and around in his head. They made him sick. All the while All Might stood there, a condescendingly placid expression on his face.

“What the fuck have you done.” He said quietly, looking at the too-wide grin above him. He rose to his knees, advancing on the old pro, who didn’t even have the decency to look slightly concerned. “What the fuck have you done,” He almost shouted, voice filling the empty gym, shaking in his rage, “to my student?”

All Might raised his hands placatingly and it only served to make Aizawa more livid. His capture weapon whipped out, twisting around the former hero’s wrists like cuffs. He wanked All Might towards him, away from his sobbing student. “I’ll ask you again, you washed up old bastard. What have you done to my student? What the fuck have you done to that boy?”

All Might’s face twisted in rage before he could get it back under control. Slowly, a lazy smile stretched across his face. “Your student? I know you favour him, and I will admit he is a sweet boy, but don’t you think he’s a little young for you?”

It took Aizawa a few seconds to process what All Might was implying by that statement. When his brain caught up to itself he saw red. Swinging his arm forward in a blind rage, he was stopped by someone else holding his arm back. He struggled for a moment, wanting nothing more than to tear that self-satisfied smirk of the man’s face.

“Eraser – man – stop it!” It was Mic. He stopped fighting, allowing Mic to pull him away. Turning towards the door, he saw Mic wasn’t the only other pro to have entered the room. Midnight was crouched next to Midoriya, trying and failing to talk him down from his panic attack. Nezu stood off to the side, trademark pointed grin aimed straight for All Might. He glanced between the four of them before giving a dismissing wave and sauntering through the opposite door.

Dragging a hand over his face, he turned to look at the other pros. Midnight had had to knock Midoriya out with her quirk and was quickly loading him up on to some medical bots. Mic looked disappointed, confused even.

“My office, now.” Nezu wasn’t smiling.

  Once the for of them were situated in Nezu’s office, the principal turned to him. Aizawa tensed.

“Aizawa, you are typically the more logical of my staff. What could he have possibly said to cause you to lash out like that? And do you have any idea what triggered poor Midoriya?” Aizawa opened his mouth to speak, but he just couldn’t say it. The words locked his lips closed, the mere idea enough to make him retch.

“Just- watch the tapes.” Nezu raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to argue back. Aizawa beat him to it. “No, I. I can’t. Just watch the tapes.” Mic and Midnight looked at him in concern. Nezu simply nodded, bringing up the last few minutes of video and audio from the gym. Aizawa stared resolutely at the floor, trying to block the sounds of his sobbing student from his ears.

“That fucking bastard.” Growled Midnight as the clip drew to a close. “Where does he get off on saying, saying that total shit about you? Mic, you should have let him punch the guy.”

Mic was pale. He shot a look a meaningful look at Nezu. The mammal wasn’t smiling anymore. “One often finds,” he began, picking his words carefully with an apologetic look to the still seething Aizawa “that criminals like to accuse the innocent of their own abhorrent crimes.” Aizawa just grit his teeth, muscles in his jaw working angrily as he tried not to remember every flinch or worrying sign he’d overlooked. He should have known. Midnight swore loudly as the full scope of what Nezu was implying hit her. She stormed out of the office. No one tried to stop her.

“What do we do?” Mic almost whispered. “What can we do?”

“We keep him away from Midoriya, that’s fucking what.” Aizawa growled lowly. Nezu nodded, drumming his paws on the table.

“I’ll have him moved to the third-year classes.” Aizawa slumped back against the couch.

“And have him target another student? No way.” The mammal sighed, looking at the table as if it had wronged him.

“That- that won’t be an issue, Aizawa. Izuku’s connection to our former number one is a one-time-only deal.”

“Are you sure about that? Sure enough to risk our students?” Nezu nodded tiredly.

“I am.”

[tenaciousarcadeexpert]

Criminal Minds-The Good Ol Days

Chapter 9-Betrayal

Tagging: @marvelfanlife​, @itsmeedee​, @cynbx​, @jaqren​, @gabriellewritermua​, @princesswagger16​, @screaminginbi​, @tleighstone12​, @cosmicmelaninflower​, @ssadavieboy​

A collaboration fic with @princesswagger16

   The last two chapters may be bad, but this one gets worse. Be warned, more terrible things are happening.

  Elsewhere, Rossi was with the BAU agents, examining Stephen’s car. Nothing so far pointed them in the direction of something new.

“What do we got?” Rossi asked Agent Branch as they analyzed the wrecked car.

“Well, the damage seemed pretty extensive, but there’s no way he could have done this deliberately. According to medical reports, there was no signs of foul play, no drugs nor alcohol.” “We did, however, found this.” Agent Skye hands both Rossi and Powell a folder and a larger ziplock bag.

“Is that the…” “The brakes. According to the mechanics,they found some of the assembly bolts missing and I compared them to the ones that we found at the scene. They match.” “Are you saying that..” “Someone planned this, they knew Stephen would leave. We just need to figure out who it was and why?” “Well, we could always check the cctv footage from the parking lot, see who was there before Stephen arrived at the parking lot. What do you think Dave?”

Just then, Rossi hears his phone buzzing and pulls it out from his pocket. He then turned it on to see a notification from one of his former students.

Hey professor, it’s Derek. We found something, something big. Meet us at the classroom, room M208, it's really important.

"What's wrong Dave?"

"I uh, I'm sorry but." He puts his phone away. "Something came up at the campus."

"Want us to go with you?"

"Nah, this won't take long. I'll meet up with you guys at the precinct." He pats his fellow friends on the shoulder before heading out. 

                                           _________________ 

   At the Language department, Reid, Marissa and Kate were looking through some old news articles and photos that Blake retrieved.

"So that's who the Replicator was." Reid murmured while staring at the photo.

"His real name was John Curtis. He used to be a professor in this campus." 

"What subject did he teach?"

"Biochemistry, though he would later move to Criminology. He was one of the most brilliant teachers in this campus, though he was bit……eccentric.”

Reid raised an eyebrow. “How so?” “He tends to ‘act up’ whenever something doesn’t go his way. To tell you the truth, he never actually appreciated his job, saying that it was ‘beneath him’.”

“What’s so bad about being a biochemistry teacher? It sounds like a fascinating subject.” “Yeah well Marissa, he never really wanted that position. It was given to him because of his past experience. What he really wanted was a position for a criminology professor, he had an impulsive fascination for the study of the social and behavioral sciences behind criminal behavior and so on.” “How come he didn’t get the job?” Kate asked. “Well, by the time he applied, almost all of the positions were filled up, but mostly because the school found someone else who was more qualified for the job.” “Lemme guess, Rossi was the one who got it.” Blake nods. “Mm hmph, Curtis didn’t take the rejection well and expressed his resentment towards Rossi for the rest of the year.” “Damn, that’s so petty.” “Yeah well, it also didn’t help that some of Rossi’s students were formerly Curtis’s.” “Oh.” “Yeah, Curtis felt betrayed, accusing Rossi of taking everything that he holds dear and vowed to punish him for it.” “All for what, a teacher’s job? That’s stupid.” “Well, you don’t know him like how Rossi and I did. I knew something was up one day and when I tried to do something……..it’s was too late. That’s when it happened, and those students…….those poor students………..the campus had to close down for a while. Took them almost a year to recover, but still….the pain remains. Rossi loved those students as much as if they were his own and even with Curtis gone, it was never gonna bring them back.”  

“How did The Replicator/Curtis died?” Blake took a deep breath. “Eventually, the police surround him outside the campus. Rossi tried to convince him to surrender, but he refused and the cops opened fire.” She rubbed her eyes. “And that was it……..” “Except.” “Curtis left behind a wife and son…….Everett was his name. When news broke out about his father, you’d be surprised to see how much a person can change at the blink of an eye.” “He wanted revenge?” She nods, “Something like that. He said that as long as he was alive, he will never rest until he finds justice for his father’s killer.” “But that’s not fair, Rossi didn’t kill him, the cops did. If anyone should be to blame, it’s Curtis.” Kate complained.

“Well he doesn’t understand that, he was too full of rage and narcissistic like his own father. Since then, he was arrested several times for minor, unrelated crimes and even tried to stalk Rossi. Then later on, he…...vanished, went off the grid somehow. No one has seen him since, not even his own mother. But Rossi sensed that he was just finding the right time to attack, and considering all of the things that’s been happening, from Gideon’s death to Stephen’s accident, this is just the beginning and god forbid what his endgame could possibly be.” 

“What do you think his endgame could be?” Before Blake could answer, Reid, Marissa and Kate heard the sounds of their phones buzzing as they pull them out to see that they all received the same message from Derek.

“What’s wrong?”

“Derek found something, he wants all of us room M208 now.”

“Oh, I understand. We can finish this up later, you guys go ahead.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come with us? Maybe a set of fresh eyes could help.”

“Uhm I….” “Please? I’d appreciate if you come with us, plus we need a teacher we could trust so….”

“Okay, just let me grab a few things.” She says as she packs her bag.

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

 Elsewhere, the group gathered at room M208, the same place they all met when Rossi took them on their special trip, where they ponder over the new evidence Derek could possibly have.

“You know, if Derek wanted all of us to meet, we would have expected him to be here right now. What’s taking him so long?” Elle asked.

“I don’t know.” Hotch responded

“Maybe he got caught up with something? Or maybe he’s trying to get some sort of physical evidence over here?” Garcia shrugged her shoulders.

“Hey guys.” Reid greets the gang as he, Marissa and Kate arrived. “And Professor Blake is with us too.” “Afternoon students.” “Afternoon.” “Where’s Derek?” Kate asked. “I don’t know, apparently he and the other guys are late as well. Did any of you see them?” Emily asked.

“Nope, since Derek called us here you would think he’d be the one waiting on us.”

“Well, we can share with you some of the things we got from Professor Blak-” “Hold up Reid, maybe this can wait.” Hotch responds as he and the others see Derek enter the classroom, though they noticed that Matt wasn’t looking so good and Luke looked really mad and sad.

“Derek, what the hell happened to you guys?” JJ asked.

“Why don’t you ask Matt, although you may not get an answer. Trust me, we tried.”

“What do you mean?” Just then, Derek tossed the book on a table as the group and Blake gathered to see what the guys found. “Is that?” “Rossi’s journal.” Blake said as she picked it up. “How did this happen to fall into your hands?” 

“I’ll tell you guys the same way i told Derek and Luke. I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!”

“That doesn’t explain why it was in YOUR bag.” Derek glares at Matt while the rest of the gang pass the journal around to see if it was really Rossi’s. “So stop lying to us.” “Is that true Matt, was this journal happen to be in your bag?” Emily asked him.

“Yes it was, but I don't  have any idea how it got there. Or who put it there. I swear, that journal wasn’t even in my bag when I went to the gym.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Oh stop with this bullshit, Matt.”

“Shut the hell up Derek!” Matt turned to Emily. “Please Em, believe me, I-” “I’m sorry Matt, but this seems pretty suspicious.” “Oh come on, I-” Before Matt could answer, he looked to see his friends muttering amongst each other.

“You guys! You all believe me right?” They were unsure about what to do next, though Matt noticed Kate giving him a blank stare as she hands the journal to JJ. “Uh Kate? Y-” Just when JJ was about to tap her friend on the shoulder, Kate slowly marched up to Matt, while Derek and Luke moved to the side. “Kate-” Just then, she swung her arm as she slapped him hard on the face, causing him to stumble. The whole group and Blake gasped while Derek pressed his lips, trying not to laugh.

“YOU HURT STEPHEN! HOW DARE YOU!!” She yells as she repeatedly tries to hit Matt, only to get pulled away by Hotch and Elle.

“I DIDN’T DO IT!!”

“KATE YOU LITTLE BITCH!” Marissa stands up and strides over to Kate.

“What did you just call me?”

“You hear me bitch. How dare you hit Matt like that!? He didn’t do shit! How about you look at the details before you go hurting people for shit you ASSUME! It’s not fair to anyone. I know you’re worried about Stephen, we ALL are. But that doesn’t mean you get to play victim and hurt people. So step outside and cool off before I beat your ass in front of everyone. And that’s not a threat Kate, that’s a promise.”

“Shut the fuck up Marissa, you just joined our group and think you know more about Matt than we do. You don’t get to decide if he’s innocent or not so stop trying to think you’re in charge, cause you’re not.” Derek snaps at her.

“You shut the fuck up Mr. Eyebrows!! You don’t know if he was framed or not! Look at what they did to Stephen! They planned a car crash and then tried framing him! It could be the same people trying to turn us on each other you dipshit!” 

“Pfft, yeah right, you go ahead and find the real bad guy. I’m sure they’re around here somewhere.”

“Yeah, I will. Meanwhile, try not to blame innocent people for shit they didn’t do. I thought having a big ass head meant you had a big ass brain. But as we can ALL see, that’s not the case now, is it?”

“Why you-” “Derek no!” Reid stops him. “Please, can we not make this worse than it already is?” “Worse? Who’s side are you on?”

“N-no one, I believe in finding the truth.”

“Well, here’s your proof, Rossi’s journal went missing in his cabin, a page was found in Stephen’s car and the rest of the journal was found in Matt’s bag. Who’s the real suspect.” Derek then turned to Matt as he rubbed his face. “ 

“Okay dick tits, ask yourself this. How was Matt with us at the time of Stephen’s accident, but still there to plant the page in Stephen’s car? Unless Matt can teleport his ass there and back in 0.223 seconds, Matt had nothing to do with this.”

“Doesn’t matter, all Matt had to do was loosen the brakes. He could’ve taken the rest of the journal after the accident.”

“OH MY GOD! Are you really that desperate for a lead that you’re willing to throw basic LOGIC out the window??”

“Come on Marissa, stop defending this TRAITOR!” Kate yells. “For the last time, I did not cause Stephen’s accident nor stole Rossi’s journal.” “Matt.” Derek snickered. “Come on man, give it up. There’s 13 of us, only one of you.”

Matt sighs as he looks at everyone else, seeing that everyone else were starting to doubt. “G-guys, you don’t all think I’m capable of doing this? Do you? Tara?” “I-I want to believe you, but this is really suspicious.” She shook her head, along with Elle and Ashley.

“H-Hotch?” He croaked, now trying to rely on his roommate and the one person who often keeps the group in check. Matt’s eyes start to water.

“I-I.”

“No more crocodile tears now Matt.” Elle crossed her arms, interrupting Matt. “It’s over.”

“I see.” Matt wiped his eyes. “Seeing that I’m not wanted here, I guess it’s best that I’ll leave.” He turned to Marissa. “Marissa, thank you for sticking up for me. You didn’t have to, but you did.” “Of course Matt, but please, don’t leave.” “I’m sorry, but I have to.” “Matt-” 

“Please.” He then walks away, in a slow pace, feeling rejected and humiliated by his former friends.

“Bye traitor, we’ll never miss you.” He turned to see Ashley, mocking him with a subtle wave. 

Matt glares at her. “And to think that I saw you all as friends......but I guess I was wrong.”

“No Matt, apparently we were wrong to even trust you.” “Oh, so that’s how it is. Well fuck all of you.” “Matt-” JJ pleaded.

“No, JJ, I can’t. I can’t stay here anymore if this is how all of you see me, I just can’t. Goodbye.” “Well, at least try to be safe, okay?”

He paused for a moment, though as he sees through her blue eyes, he saw that she was really honest about him. “I will.”

He took another glance at his now former friends and sighs before marching out of the room.

JJ and Reid then look at each other knowing that Matt wasn't a traitor. They just needed evidence to prove Matt's innocence, much to some of their friends’ dismay.

“So that's it, we're all just gonna leave him like this?”

 “Hell yea! He's betrayed us all!”

“Yeah come on JJ, the evidence all points to him.”

“I don’t think so. I think we're missing something here guys.” 

“So this is really funny to me.” Marissa claps in a sarcastic manner. “You have the nerve to call Matt a traitor but you turned on him in less than a minute without any real hard evidence against him. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“Well, smartass. Got something in your mind?” Derek rolled his eyes.

 “Well dumbass, I say let’s put this to a vote.”

“Really a vote? What, like Matt goes to jail or we turn him in?” Elle glares at Marissa.

“I mean, what’s the point, Stephen is in a coma, and Matt has Rossi’s journal.” Ashley crossed her arms “I think we all know what our stance is.”

“I know what I’m gonna vote for.” Kate adds.

“Hotch.” JJ whispered. “Aren’t you gonna do something? This is getting out of hand.” 

Hotch takes a deep breath and walks in the center of the group. “Alright, alright, before this gets completely out of hand, I must say that I agree with Marissa in which maybe we should vote on it.”

“Are you fucking serious?” “Yes Morgan, I mean it and we all need to be fair, regardless of who it is.” He rolled his eyes “Fine.”

“Okay, so who agrees with Marissa and her theory that Matt is not the traitor?” Hotch looks up to see Reid, JJ, Tara and Marissa raise their hands, as well as he does, much to Derek’s dismay. “Okay���.and who believes that Matt is a traitor and needs to be taken in?” At that point, Derek, Kate, Elle, Ashley and Emily raised their hands. “Damn.”

JJ tilt her head to see Luke hiding his hands in his pockets. “Luke, you seemed a bit lost.” 

“Yeah, I’d rather stay out of this, I prefer taking the middle ground.”

Blake then steps in, “I agree with Luke. I don’t want to be on one person’s side.”

“What about you Garcia?” Hotch asked her. Garcia rubbed her hands, seeing her friends being divided over a journal. 

“I-I” “Garcia?”

“Uhm…..I’m sorry, but I have to go with…. Marissa. She just has common sense and I agree with her argument!”

“Come on Garcia, not you too.” “I’m sorry, but it’s what I believe in.”

“Damn baby girl, I didn’t know you’d turn on me too.”

“Well Morgan, guys. The jig is up, Matt’s the victim, not the suspect all we need to do is investigate.”

“Well you all can do your own investigation, and we’ll do ours. We’ll see who comes out on top.”

In the middle of their debate on what to believe, they see Rossi walk in the room. "He-woah woah w o a h." He yelled, as everyone in the room froze and turned to see their professor standing right in front of them.

"Hello everyone, how are we today?”

“Hi professor........” They all froze.

Rossi raised an eyebrow. “Are you all okay? You seem a bit off.”

“Uh yea, why wouldn't we?” Kate shrugged her shoulders.

“Yea right, you guys are acting really weird.” He sat on top of the desk.

“Well, funny thing happened.” He placed his bag and jacket on the table. “I could’ve sworn I saw Matt stormed out of this room. Looked like he was in a really sour mood today.”

The rest of the team stayed silent, much to Rossi's dismay, though based on their body language, he knew that something happened and he wanted to know what they did to him.

“Will someone tell what the hell is going on?”