#just like on repeat. for the entire class. i was just sitting there blinking aggressively not being able to think of anything else

[iamfuckingsorry]

what are you sorry for

I was very sorry for just about everything back when I made this blog in like 2013

[randomshyperson]

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - The Fourth Year (Part II) - Chapter 5

Gif is not mine, blessed are the gif makers.

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Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies.

Chapter Words:  11.433K (they keep getting bigger and bigger don’t they?)

Authors note: I told myself i would only updated this once i finished writing two chapters ahead, but here we are. I hope everyone has a good reading, please let me know what you think and if you have any questions regarding the story i’m as lost as you are but i believe everything will make sense at the end.

//-//-//-//-//

When you woke up in the morning, you were really irritated.

Not having slept very well, both because of the time you went back to bed, and because of the strange dreams with red lights that you kept having, you were really sleepy when you had to get up.

And well, the first class was History of Magic, so the universe was not in your favor.

But you were quite surprised when you reached Professor Okoye's classroom and found a small crowd of students waiting at the door.

"What's going on?" You asked Quill as soon as you identified him in the crowd, Mantis right behind you. 

"I don't think we're going to have class today." He replied while looking into the room. You copied his movement, and could see the teacher moving the tables and chairs in the room away to the corner, leaving a nice clear space. When she was finished, she waved for everyone to come in.

You stood with Quill and Mantis and the rest of the students scattered around the room, and the teacher in the center. She closed the door with a wave of her wand as they all entered, a small smile on her lips.

"I have an announcement to make, students." She begins. "According to the traditions of the triwizard tournament, the host school must organize a winter ball during christmas night after the first task." She tells and has to raise her voice a bit because the students start talking to each other excitedly. "And as head of the Gryffindor house, renowned for its chivalry, I was made responsible for organizing dance class sessions." She pauses briefly, looking at the students until they fall silent. "I also expect the Hufflepuff house to behave as respectfully as my Gryffindor students, since the honorable Helga Hufflepuff was known for her great charity balls."

With a wave of Okoye's wand, a cabinet in the corner of the room opens, and out of it flies a small music organ to the corner of the room. When she waves it again, a soft melody fills the entire room.

"Let's begin."

//-//

It is only at lunchtime that you get to talk to Wanda. And your feet still hurt from the times Quill stepped on them during the dance class.

You throw your bag on the Slytherin bench and sit down next to Wanda, looking at her expectantly. The girl makes a confused frown.

"What?" she asks with a slight humor in her voice.

"Really, Wands?" You reply in the same tone. "I want to talk to you."

"About what?"

"The tournament." 

Wanda rolls her eyes, turning her attention back to the plate in front of her. You frown at the way she is being casual about it.

"What about the tournament?"

You let out a short laugh.

"What do you mean “what about the tournament”? You're the champion of Hogwarts! The underage champion of Hogwarts!" You clarify, but Wanda doesn't look at you. You blink in confusion, and reach your forearm down on the table, touching her lightly so that she looks at you. Your chest aches as she pulls her arm away. "What's wrong?"

Wanda sighs, running her hands through her hair lightly.

"I just don't want to hear about how I'm an irresponsible cheater or how dangerous the tournament is." She replies looking at you.

"I wasn't going to say that." You retort, and Wanda rolls her eyes, which irritates you. "You haven't even heard what I have to say and you've already drawn your own conclusions."

Wanda clenches her jaw, her cheeks slightly reddened.

"And what do you have to say about it then?"

"I was gonna offer to help you practice for the tasks!" You clarify angrily. And Wanda blinks in confusion. You turn your face forward next, crossing your arms. Arguing with Wanda was absolutely the worst. 

It takes a moment, but her posture softens completely and she sighs, reaching out for your arm afterwards.

"Hey." She calls tenderly, but you continue to stare straight ahead. "Hey, I'm sorry. Look at me."

You slowly turn to the side, looking down at your lap. Wanda waits for you to look up, and when you do, she gives you a weak smile.

" I'm sorry." She repeats, and you sigh, nodding. Wanda bites her lip, looking at you for a moment. "I need to tell you something. Is about..."

Wanda falls silent as your friends arrive at the table, commenting excitedly on the news of the dance that has already spread throughout the school. She sighs softly, straightening herself to look forward. You bite the inside of your cheeks, curious to know what she was going to say, but not wanting to press her.

When Nebula and Gamora sit across from you, you strain to pay attention to their conversation.

"But Wanda, tell us, what is it like to be a Hogwarts champion?" Gamora asks after the topic about the ball closes. Wanda tenses momentarily, and you want to ask why Pietro is sitting at the other end of the table with boys you don't know instead of with his sister, but the brunette forces a smile and you don't.

"I don't recommend the experience, if you ask me." She retorted with slight irony in her voice, making the group laugh. "After the selection, the principals of the other schools were not at all happy about my participation."  She counters twisting her fingers lightly. "I think they were questioning the security of the Goblet choice. But Principal Harkness stood up for me, in her own way at least. She insisted that nothing could be done, because the magical contract with the goblet can only be broken with the end of the tournament."

"I imagine you had no idea this was all going to happen when you put your name on the goblet, eh?" Nebula asked wryly, making the group laugh. But Wanda frowned.

"I didn't put my name on the goblet." Wanda declared. Her friends gave a short laugh, thinking she was joking. But the other girl's serious expression makes them look at her in surprise.

"Wait, are you serious?" Gamora questions and Wanda nods, sighing. She exchanges shocked looks with Nebula and Mantis. Next, Gamora looks at you. "I guess that goes on your list of weird things this year, huh?"

You shake your head slightly, not wanting the girl in front of you to mention what happened in the cup, but Gamora is already commenting on your nightmares the next moment.

Wanda turns to you next.

"What nightmares?" She questions, and you sigh, losing your appetite. "And why didn't you tell me about what you saw in the cup? And well, if you were worried, you could have asked if everything was okay with me, we've been at Hogwarts for a month now and..."

"Wanda." You interrupt with a short smile. "Calm down, okay? I was just trying to find the right time to talk to you about everything."

"I am calm, I just want to know why you are hiding things from me! " She hits back and you frown in surprise.

"Look who's talking!"

You regret the way you speak, because Wanda gasps in surprise, her gaze hurt. Your friends witness the discussion intently.

"What did you mean by that?" She retorts angrily.

"You know very well what I meant." You reply in the same tone, feeling your stomach turn in nervousness. "You always hide things, whether with your family, or with your magic! And you won't tell me what's going on with us!"

Wanda looks at you in a mixture of surprise, anger and hurt, and you feel your heart racing. Some students are looking at you curiously, but Wanda's lack of response only disappoints you. You cast her an angry glance before getting up and leaving the hall.

//=//

You feel bad that you have accused Wanda the moment you reach your dorm. You don't know if she has the answers you seek. But you are tired, because it seems that everyone is keeping secrets from you.

Throwing yourself down on the sofa, you sigh as you close your eyes. You don't feel like studying right now, but soon you have a Defense Against the Dark Arts period and you need to get up. You don't rush, though, using all the remaining time at lunch to calm yourself, trying to push out the thoughts that you and Wanda would no longer be friends.

Mantis meets you at the door to the communal hall as soon as you leave, and you thank her for bringing your backpack back. 

"Are you okay?" She asks as you both walk toward the tower.

"Yeah, it was just a silly argument." You mumble clumsily.

"Wanda was pretty upset after you left." She counters, and you mutter in understanding. "I hope you two can make up soon."

"Me too."

When you arrived at the D.A.D.A. room, few minutes later, you grumbled softly because you could only find chairs in the front, and students who sat near Professor Fury were always called in.

The professor entered soon after, his long black cape dragging across the floor, and the customary eye patch hiding a scar on his face.

"Good afternoon, everyone." He announced loudly as he entered, and waited until everyone was seated to begin. Drawing out his wand, he charmed the chalk on the blackboard to write the subject of the day. Some buzz began to circulate as the words "unforgivable curses" formed on the board. "Who here can tell me what the unforgivable curses are?"

The room was completely silent. Fury walked between the tables.

"No one?" He asked. "How disappointing."

You knew that no one answered the question because it was a huge taboo in the witch community to talk about the dark arts so freely. Professor Fury seemed to know that too, and that only seemed to make him angry.

“Unforgivable curses are three of the most powerful and sinister spells in the world of magic.” Fury explains next. “Their use is forbidden in all magical communities, and if a wizard or witch casts any of them on another wizard or witch, they will receive a sentence in Azkaban.”

Fury made another motion with his wand and the closet at the back of the room opened, a small cage secured in an iron compartment with wheels crawled to the front. 

You and the rest of the room let out exclamations of surprise as you observed the creature inside. A large, hairy spider, very scary. Mantis shrank into the chair beside you.

"As an antidote to your ignorance, I recommend that you read the book of this subject before the next class, and bring me two scrolls about the first three chapters, specifying the history of the prohibition of unforgivable curses." Professor Fury then announced, drawing an unsatisfied buzz from the students. The room fell silent the next minute, however, as the professor opened the cage.

The spider moved on the iron, looking practically startled and shrinking into the cage. 

"The first unforgivable curse is the command curse." Fury explained, pointing his wand at the bug next. "Imperio."

You and the rest of the students watched in shock as the small crystallized flash came from the tip of the wand to the creature, which stretched its legs and then moved outward. It wasn't hard to deduce that it was Professor Fury who was controlling the spider, since from the movement of his wand, it was moving.

"The Imperium curse consists of absolute control of another living being." Fury told as he moved the spider around the room, drawing exclamations of fear and shock. "You see, during the last witch war, many sorcerers claimed that they were only fighting for Mephisto because of this curse." 

The mention of Mephisto made everyone hold their breath, but the professor didn't stop talking.

"The ministry found an efficient way to find out who was lying." He counters with a short smile. Bringing the spider back to the front of the room, to his desk for all to see, he holds it still. "You will find out eventually, children, that moral lines are usually broken during wars."

You exchanged a look with your colleagues, all clearly surprised and frightened. Fury cleared his throat, pointing his wand at the spider.

"Crucio" He spoke and unlike the other, no light came out. The spider cringed, making a high-pitched noise that filled the entire room. You understood that it was screaming in pain, and you felt your stomach clench. Before you knew it, you stood up abruptly, the noise attracting everyone's attention.

"Stop it!" You shouted angrily. "Can't you see you're hurting her?"

The teacher stopped, and you tried to control your uncompensated breathing. He cleared his throat, ignoring the buzz in the room as he extended his hand to the spider, which obediently climbed into his hand.

He turned to you, placing the animal on your desk, and you swallowed dryly, keeping your gaze on the back of the room, knowing exactly what was coming. Professor Fury looked at the creature with contempt. 

"The last unforgivable curse is the killing curse." He explains. "Avada Kedavra."

You close your eyes for a moment, feeling your body tremble. When you look down, the spider was dead. The room in complete silence.

You look at Professor Fury with watery eyes.

"No one should survive this curse." He tells you. Before you can say anything, he softens his expression, looking around. "And none survived, of course. Now, why aren't you guys writing down what I said?"

You don't feel very well for the rest of the class.

//-//

The vast majority of the students seem far more impressed with how dark Fury's classes have become than afraid. You can't say the same, because it seems that every time he has to explain something about dark magic, you feel sick. Gamora tried to cheer you up by joking that auror wouldn't be the right profession for you, but you've been so upset about the absence of Wanda that you've barely been able to smile.

As the first assignment approaches, you want to forget that you fought and apologize, but the girl also seems to be avoiding you, so you do the same.

Pietro has also been distant, and Nebula told you that he and Wanda were not yet on the best of terms, and Pietro was spending much more time with Monica and Darcy than with you all. 

When the day of the first task finally arrived, you ignored the fact that you were fighting and went to look for Wanda, unable to ignore the feeling of worry that took over your whole body.

You had no idea what the first task was going to be, but Miss Harkness had asked the whole school to go to the Quidditch field on Saturday, and there were tents set up at the north end. You told Gamora that you would join her in the stands in a moment, that you needed to talk to Wanda first, and you snuck through the crowd to reach the champions' tent area.

"Psst." You called out from between the canvas of the tent, recognizing the gloomy figure sitting in the corner of the place as you entered from the back. Wanda looked around, and then stood up, frowning when she could see your shadow.

Opening the tarp, she looked at you in a mixture of surprise and irritation.

"What do you want here?"

"I didn't come to fight with you." You let her know as you realize the tone in her voice. You bite your lips for a moment, and then sigh. "Damn, I missed you."

Wanda looks away, her cheeks reddening as she crosses her arms. You swallow dryly, ignoring your uncompensated heartbeat.

"Is this what you came for?" She asks half-heartedly, staring at the floor.

"No." You say. "I needed to make sure everything was okay, and I wanted to wish you good luck."

"Why do you care?" She hits back in defiance, and you roll your eyes.

"I'm still your friend, Wanda." You reply. "We fought, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you anymore."

Wanda looks away again, and you switch the weight on your foot.

"Well, that was it." You say. "Good luck to you."

"Thank you." She mumbles without looking at you. When you turn around, her arms wrap around you in a tight embrace. Wanda rests her head on your back and sighs, and you recover from the surprise, caressing her hands resting on your belly with your thumbs. Before you can turn to correspond properly, she releases you. "Now get out of here before a teacher sees you."

You smile at her before walking away.

//-//

Wanda would confront a dragon. You think you're controlling yourself pretty well despite everything.

She was going to be the last to do so, but your heart was already racing from the moment Principal Harkness walked to the center of the Quidditch pitch and after making the general announcements, nodded toward the locker room area that had been enchanted so that the beast could hide inside. The next minute there were witches bringing a dragon into the stadium and the crowd screamed with excitement and fear.

The champions needed to capture the golden egg for the second task, and well, everyone was curious to know how they would do it.

Gamora handed you a small booklet, and you frowned when you realized that it was an enchanted betting chart. She gave you a little smile, waving to someone behind her, and you noticed that almost all the people were betting on the winners, and the game flyers were circulating around the stands. You felt your stomach turn as you watched the enchanted drawing of a dragon spit fire at the image of three witches. 

You ended up handing the flyer to Mantis and didn't bet on anyone, focused on watching the task.

Jean Grey captured the egg in fifteen minutes. She took on the Common Welsh Green dragon, and everyone was impressed to watch her use a mirroring spell to confuse the dragon about the true location of the golden egg. She finished the task unhurt, and unseen and you joined the crowd in cheering, watching her receive the perfect score.

Maria Hill was injured in her ordeal, but this certainly brought a lot more entertainment to the audience. She faced the Norwegian Crested Back, and tried to bewitch the dragon with a sleeping spell, but the creature awoke as soon as she reached for the egg. 

The audience screamed with excitement as the dragon began to spit fire everywhere, furious. Fortunately, Maria only had minor burns, as she was able to charm the beast again. Her score was lower than Jean's, but still high.

When Wanda's turn came, many of the Gryffindor students began to boo, and you clenched your jaw. 

You relaxed momentarily when Wanda looked around the audience, smiling at you before focusing on the creature in front of her.

"That one looks bigger than the other two, huh?" you grumble to Gamora with concern as you observe the beast in the center of the field. 

"Maybe he's more docile." She remarks, but it's not true, especially since the next second the creature roars ferociously as it notices Wanda approaching.

The Ukrainian Iron Belly moved his long tail around the field, the iron chains swinging as he did. Wanda was holding her wand, hiding behind a rock. You can barely hear the crowd with the ringing in your ears, your heart racing a thousand an hour in your chest.

As Wanda approaches again, trying to bewitch the beast, the Iron Belly roars, raising its tail in the air to strike her. You blink in astonishment as you watch a shield spell form around Wanda. She rolls across the field, faster than the beast, and runs to reach the egg.

She casts a spell on its snout that leaves it bewildered long enough for her to grab the prize.

On the way back, the creature wags its tail rapidly across the field, roaring with irritation, and hits Wanda in the back, throwing her a few meters forward.

"Y/N what are you doing? Put that away!" Gamora warns you at the next second. You blink in confusion, realizing that you have your wand in hand, raising it in front of you. Gamora lowers your hands, and because of all the commotion, no one else seems to notice. She looks at you with concern, but you feel your mouth go numb; you need to help Wanda.

"Let me go, Wanda needs me." You grumble pushing her hands away, and hurrying to get down from the bleachers. Gamora calls out to you but you don't turn around.

The test continues on the field next to you, but you have to look forward to get down, pushing people aside as you rush to catch up to Wanda, your wand vibrating in your fingers as the rest of your body.

Professor Heimdall stops you at the edge of the stands.

"I need you to focus on my voice, Stark." He asks as he places his hands on your shoulders. You gasp in surprise, trying to turn your head to look at the field, but the firm grip holds you in place.

"Let me go." You ask panting, a pain beginning to well up in your head. "Wanda is in danger."

"Look at me." He commands as he lifts his thumbs to your cheek, pinning your face to look at him. You stare at the yellow irises feeling your breath hitch. You need to help Wanda. But somehow, as the seconds tick by, the yellow eyes are all you can think about. "Pull yourself together. Can't you hear the celebration from the audience? Wanda has completed the test. She is safe."

You choke on the professor's words, feeling an urge to cry with relief. He keeps his expression serious, though.

"Pull it together. Keep your wand away." He commands. "Don't tell anyone about this, not everyone is your friend here."

"W-what?"

But Professor Heimdall lets you go, quickly taking your wand and putting it back in your cloak pocket. He looks around, and smiles at someone behind you. Only now you notice the celebratory noise around you, and you turn around. The crowd is descending, and Principal Harkness is announcing the final scores.

Your friends are coming toward you, happy and smiling. Professor Heimdall steps aside to join the teachers' group, and then you are being dragged with your friends to the center of the field, along with the rest of the crowd celebrating the end of the task. You hear fireworks and shouts of victory, but your gaze is searching for Wanda.

She is shaking hands with the Minister of Magic, Johann Shmidt, and you gasp when you catch sight of her. She has barely turned toward you, smiling and waving shyly when she realizes that you and your friends are coming to greet her, when you run toward her, throwing your arms around her when you reach her.

"Wow." She gasps in surprise, but hugs you back, chuckling softly. You don't let go, and soon your friends are hugging you two too. And they are laughing and celebrating, and you are holding back your tears, not understanding why the possibility of losing Wanda seems worse than death.

//-//

Things get better after the first task. After you left the Quidditch camp, you joined the celebration in the Slytherin communal hall, which was filled with people from all the houses.

All the students who had stood against Wanda before she defeated the dragon now seemed keen to become her friends, praising her and congratulating her on the way she killed the beast. 

You still don't understand what exactly happened, but Wanda used some spell that hit the creature in the heart, and well, killing the dragon earned her first place. The other directors were not happy with the judge's decision, but the rest of the school certainly liked it.

You are in the corner of the room, surrounded by your friends and Tony's friends, trying to stay sociable while ignoring how tired you feel.

"Why are you so quiet?" Gamora asks you softly, noticing your lack of enthusiasm to join in the explosive snap game that Quill has just suggested to everyone. 

"It's nothing." You lie forcing a smile. Professor Heimdall's words still echoing in your head. "I'm just not in the mood to party. I guess I'm sleepy."

Gamora murmurs in understanding, assessing your face for a few moments. But Nebula is pulling her sister over to look at the items Tony got on his last trip to Hogsmeade, and you don't join in the conversation. 

Your gaze searches for Wanda, who is locked in conversation with a seventh grader who has never spoken to you guys before, but seemed very willing to become Wanda's friend now that she has become a champion.

You were thinking of waiting until Wanda had finished talking to the girl to say good-bye, but then you felt irritation boil up in the pit of your stomach as you watched the older girl toss her hair to the side, her hand running up Wanda's arm, as Wanda gave her a wry smile. 

You really didn't want to watch Wanda flirting with anyone, so you hurried out of the dorm, hopefully everyone would be busy enough with the party to notice.

Outside, as you turned the corner, you saw something you didn't want to see.

Tony and Steve were kissing against a wall, your brother's hands inside the other boy's shirt. You let out a loud exclamation of shock, covering your eyes.

"God, get a room!" You complained loudly with your eyes closed, feeling your cheeks very hot. You heard Tony and Steve giggle, and waited a moment to open your eyes, only to find Steve very red, looking away, and your brother with his arms crossed.

"Don't be such a baby." He teased. "One of these days I'm going to find you like this."

You choke lightly, letting out an indignant laugh.

"Excuse me, but I don't want to hook up with anyone in the corners of the castle." You mumble in embarrassment, and Tony exchanges a look with Steve, letting out a chuckle.

"Damn, do girls go through puberty later or something?" He teases and you look at him wide-eyed. "I'm teasing you little sister, no need to freak out about it." He mocks as he pulls Steve by the sleeve, when he is walking away, he turns his head to you again. "Let me know if you change your mind, I bet Natasha that you were going to propose to Wanda this year!" He shouts before turning down the hall, leaving you behind with cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

You figure you'd better get back to the dorm before you run into some teacher.

//-//

You have another nightmare during the night. As real as the vision you had during the quidditch cup. You see the graveyard and the red light, but this time, it is you who is attacking. You wake up in fright, but feeling absolutely exhausted, you go back to sleep almost immediately afterwards. This time you dream of someone holding your hand.

//-//

"Have you decided who you're going to ask to the dance?" It is the first question Gamora asks you during breakfast, and you choke on your pumpkin juice. She ignores your reaction and continues talking. "By the way, where were you last night?"

"I told you I was tired." You reply wiping up the juice you spilled with a napkin. "I went back to my dorm."

"You missed the best part of the party." She retorted excitedly. "Some Ravenclaw kids conjured up a fireworks dragon and someone handed out candy from Honeydukes to everyone."

"Sounds amazing." You grumble before going back to eating. Gamora looks at you expectantly, and you sigh, understanding that she is waiting for you to answer her first question. "I don't know if I want to go to the dance."

"You’re not going to the dance?" It is Wanda who asks as she arrives at the table. You almost choke again, but just roll your eyes at the insinuating look Gamora gives you as Wanda sits down. 

"Oh, she's just saying that because no one invited her." Gamora teases with an insinuating tone, and you try to hit her but she laughs as she moves away from your grasp.

"You know, you can ask someone if you want to. You don't have to wait for the invitation." Nebula then suggests, and you are surprised because she wasn't even paying attention to the conversation, a spell book laid out in front of her. "Unless you're afraid of rejection."

"What is it with you guys today?" You mutter irritatedly, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you observe the insinuating glances of the two girls in front of you. "Besides, why are you talking about invitations, Gamora? Who invited you?"

Gamora lets out a shy giggle, and then looks away. She nods toward Quill, and you let out a surprised exclamation.

"And you're just telling me this now?" You retort excitedly.

"You're the one who left the party yesterday!" She replies. "He invited me last night, and I was going to tell you, but you left without even looking back."

You roll your eyes with amusement.

"Are you really waiting for someone to invite you?" Wanda asks next, and you look at her, feeling your heart miss a beat. What the hell is going on with you lately?

"I... well, I don't know." You answer clumsily. "I haven't really thought about it.”

"But you want to be asked?" Wanda inquires and you swallow dryly. 

"I don't know, maybe."

"But if someone were to invite you now, would you like it?"

"I..."

"God, just ask her at once!" Gamora interrupts impatiently, causing you and Wanda to look at her wide-eyed. Nebula lets out a chuckle, without looking away from the book on your desk. Gamora gestures in Wanda's direction. "Sorry, girls, I just got a little carried away. Please, Wanda, continue with your embarrassing attempt to ask the dumbest person in this school to the dance."

You mumble clumsily, feeling your cheeks warm. Wanda giggles.

The brunette next to you pokes you lightly in the ribs, and waits for you to look at her again before speaking.

"Gamora's right, actually." She says shyly, and you feel your heart speed up. "All champions need to dance at the ball, and well, the first person I thought of asking was you." She confesses quickly. "But it's okay if you don't want to go..."

"No!" you interrupt quickly, feeling your face hot. You smile next. "I'd love to go to the dance with you, Wands."

Wanda looks at you for a few seconds, and you look back. Your stomach flipping with nervousness.

"I'm getting diabetes." Nebula comments next, breaking the moment. Gamora laughs, pushing her shoulder lightly against her sister as you and Wanda look forward uncomfortably.

"Stop it, they're adorable." Gamora hits back with a smile, you clear your throat, feeling embarrassed as you pretend to pay attention to the daily prophet lying on the table and not the presence of the brunette next to you or the comments of your friends.

//-//

Things go well between you and Wanda after that. The discussion you two had is long forgotten. You imagine that Gamora and Tony think that as you begin to help Wanda try to decipher the egg, that you have mentioned to her the connection you have been feeling, but you have not yet found the moment to speak up.

You told her about the other things, though. About the sky mark on the Quidditch canopy, and Tony's investigation of your father and the followers of Mephisto. Wanda was also surprised to learn that Howard and Erik had been friends in school days, but she knew as little as you did about all the issues. You felt bad for having accused her of hiding things from you, and bought Honeydukes candy to apologize.

And so time passed, and the day of the winter ball finally arrived.

To say that you were looking forward to it was an understatement. And you weren't the only one, as during the whole day, the vast majority of the students talked only about this.

Your prom outfits arrived the same day during breakfast. You had written to Jarvis to buy Gamora's and Nebula's costumes as well, and they were very happy to receive the dresses. Tony had a piece of toast in his mouth when you left his suit that arrived in the same package as yours on the table, before you turned to check your own outfit.

"It's very nice, isn't it?" You commented to Gamora as soon as you held out the material aloft. The girl let out a sigh of excitement.

"My god, you're going to look beautiful!" She exclaims, and then gives you an insinuating look. "In fact, you're already a cutie." She teases with a wink, making you laugh. 

"Good morning." Wanda said as she joined you, she widened her eyes slightly when she realized that you were looking at the ball costumes. 

"Great, you're here!" Gamora speaks to the brunette excitedly. "I want to see your dress!".

Wanda smiled awkwardly.

"It's in my room." She informs you as she sits down next to Gamora. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment, but when you notice, she deflects. "You can see it when we go to get ready."

The conversation eventually went in the direction of comparing outfits and forming combinations, and then you thought it best to put your clothes away before they got dirty with some of the delicious food from the breakfast.

//-//

You were a little surprised to hear that the girls were going to start getting ready for the ball as early as the afternoon, but you didn't object to joining them in the Slytherin communal hall, taking your costume package with you.

"Are you going to wear any makeup?" Gamora asked you as you all stood in the Slytherin dormitory bathroom, which had several girls in it. Fortunately the communal hall was the most luxurious in the entire school and had enough space for everyone. You were sitting on one of the sink benches, after showering and putting on your prom costume, waiting for the girls to finish.

"I don't know how to wear makeup, Gamora." You respond by looking at her. She smiles, looking away from the mirror to look at you. 

"If you want, I can help you." She says and seeing your hesitation, she smiles. "Only if you want me to, honey."

"I don't know." You say. "Maybe just lipstick."

Gamora laughs lightly, nodding in agreement. Nebula starts complaining loudly next, not being able to button the zippers of her dress properly, and Gamora gives a giggle, stepping aside to help her sister. 

"Stop moving." Gamora warns Nebula, and you chuckle at the scene. Wanda is coming out of the cabin she had come in from to put on her dress, and you feel your breath hitch when you see her. She is adjusting the straps and smiles shyly at the look you cast at her, and you do your best to cover it up.

"You look pretty." She comments as she approaches, looking at you for a moment before looking away to the mirror.

"You look beautiful, Wanda." You retort the next moment, half out of breath. Wanda smiles, her cheeks reddening as she keeps her gaze on her own reflection, fixing her hair.

"Wanda, help Y/N with her makeup, I think Nebula messed up her zipper." Gamora asks the next moment, pulling out her wand to concertize her sister's clothes, who fusses impatiently. You and Wanda share a giggle at the scene, but your giggle dies as Wanda approaches you, a lipstick in her hands. 

"I think this color suits your costume." She comments with a smile, opening the lipstick and lifting it to your face height. You feel your breath hitch, watching with slightly wide eyes as Wanda stands between your legs and touches your face with her other hand to hold you in place. "Stand still so it doesn't smudge."

You want to tell her you're not going anywhere, but she's putting the makeup on you in the next second. You keep your mouth ajar, trying to ignore the tingling sensation you feel on your skin where Wanda's fingers are touching, or the way your heart is racing. Wanda is concentrating on her task, and bites her lower lip as she puts on your make-up. 

"There you go." She whispers as she pushes the lipstick away from your lips, her gaze lingering on your mouth however. The dark glow in her irises makes your stomach do a flip-flop. You think Wanda is going to kiss you, because she is so close and her fingers are still on your chin, and you wish she would.

But Gamora lets out an exclamation of satisfaction as she manages to tidy up her sister's dress, and Wanda frowns, shaking her head slightly as she steps back.

"You look gorgeous, Y/N!" Gamora says as soon as she glances at you, making you smile awkwardly. You're feeling a little out of breath from all the interaction with Wanda, so you just keep your gaze on your own lap, waiting for the girls to finish the finishing touches. Nebula remarks something about a funny story in the Daily Prophet next and you get distracted.

//-//

You are a nervous wreck when you all reach the main hall. 

Gamora nods to Quill, standing in the doorway in his dark brown suit, looking very handsome with the tie that matches his eyes. He flashes her a contented smile as they greet each other with a kiss on the cheek. You see Pietro and Monica have entered the room as well, their arms intertwined. Darcy is right behind, accompanied by a girl you don't know.

You clear your throat, turning to Wanda as you stop at the entrance, but Professor Okoye catches up with you before you can ask if Wanda wants to come in yet.

"Maximoff, dear, there you are." Okoye announces sounding rushed. "The dance of champions is about to begin, I imagine you'll be the partner, right miss Stark?"

"R-right, professor." You reply and the woman nods in agreement, grabbing yours and Wanda's arm to drag you to a corner, where the other champions were already waiting. She hurried out the next moment, signaling to the students outside to come in that she needed to announce the start of the dance.

"Are you ready?" you ask Wanda ignoring the nervous feeling in your stomach. The brunette smiles, her hand slipping into yours and making your heart soar.

"I hope I don't stumble." She retorts with a shy smile, you think she looks absolutely stunning.

"Don't worry." You say looking forward, the other champions straightening up to get in line. "I won't let you fall."

//-//

You twist Wanda in your arms to the rhythm of the music, a laugh escaping your lips. This is already the fourth song in a row that you have danced to together, and the feeling is so incredible that you think you will dance all night.

Two more songs later, you feel thirsty and approach Wanda to tell her you'll get a drink for you two, completely oblivious to the way the girl's cheeks flush when you whisper in her ear.

At the drinks table, Gamora approaches you, her cheeks rosy.

"I just kissed Peter!" She announces and you almost knock over the punch.

"What?" you ask in surprise and your sister laughs, maybe from nervousness or excitement, you can't tell. "Did you like it?

"Sure." She assures you with a smile, looking pleased. You make a mental note to tease her about her blushing cheeks another time. "It was weird the first time, but the sensation is really good when you get the rhythm right."

You nod in understanding, not knowing exactly what you can add in this matter.

"And what are you doing here with me? Go kiss your boyfriend!" You tease next, smiling encouragingly and making Gamora laugh. She turns to leave, but then decides to tell you something.

"Don't forget to tell me how it was with Wanda. I think kissing a girl must feel different."

She then leaves, laughing lightly at your shocked expression. Your heart is racing because the only thing you can think about right now is the possibility of kissing Wanda.

Your gaze returns to the dance floor, and you feel your nervousness increase. Wanda dances timidly to the rhythm of the music, her hips swaying and her eyes closed. She looks beautiful. She is beautiful. Out of your reach.

You shake your head to push these thoughts away, and you take a deep breath before walking over to her again with the drinks in your hand.

//-//

After drinking and dancing to three more songs, the band finally changes to a softer melody, and you smile shyly at Wanda as you hold out your hand to her.

With your hands together, you hold Wanda around the waist, and she rests her free hand on your shoulder. She is blushing at the closeness of your faces, so she gives you a shy smile before resting her chin on the hand on your shoulder. You enjoy the proximity as you move slowly to the rhythm of the music.

You close your eyes, feeling quite good this way. In her arms. Peaceful.

When the music ends, it takes a moment for you to move away, your hands remaining together. 

Wanda looks at you for a moment, and then nods her head to the side to signal you two to leave. You bite your lips as she takes you by the hand to escort you out of the room.

You are too busy thinking about the feeling of your hands intertwined to worry about the path, and are slightly surprised when you end up in an empty room.

Wanda lets go of your hand as you enter. And you close the door as she walks inside. She stops walking when she reaches the teacher's desk, and turns around, leaning against the wood. You watch her twist the rings on her fingers nervously as you walk toward her. 

You stop at the desk in front of her, mimicking her motion of leaning against the wood as you risk a glance at her.

"What are we doing here, Wands?" You ask ignoring your heartbeat quickened by the tension in the air.

Wanda looks at you, pressing her lips together for a moment. 

"What do you think?" She retorts with slight defiance, and you bite back a smile, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"You... you know we don't have to do anything just because everyone else is doing it, right?" You say, and Wanda lets out a short laugh, looking at you slightly impressed. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just that's such a Gryffindor thing to say. Very chivalrous." She teases and you chuckle awkwardly, shrugging your shoulders.

"Well, I am a hatstall after all." You mutter and Wanda frowns in confusion. You shake your head, briefly mentioning what the sorting hat told you in first year and drawing an impressed exclamation from Wanda.

"That's pretty awesome, you know, right?" she adds with a smile.

"Yeah, I'm pretty awesome indeed." You joke making Wanda laugh.

"Oh, there's the Slytherin part I see." She teases. "But I haven't found your Ravenclaw trait yet, are you sure you inherited the intelligence?"

You pretend to be offended for a moment with a grimace, and Wanda laughs, unconsciously or consciously stepping forward.

"Excuse me, but I am a very competent sorceress."  You argue smiling, ignoring the nervousness that grows as the proximity between you two increases. "Best charm student in the whole school."

"Oh, really?" Wanda retorts. "Last time I checked I had that position."

"It's okay, we can share first place." You assure almost in a whisper, Wanda is too close for you to think of adding anything else right now.

"There's the Hufflepuff." She says with a shy smile, approaching you one last time. You can feel her breath against your cheek, the emerald eyes fixed on yours. You swallow dryly, risking a look at the lips so inviting. "I'm going to kiss you now, okay?"

"Not if I kiss you first." You breathlessly challenge, and Wanda smiles before moving forward, both of you closing your eyes at the same time as you meet her halfway.

Her lips were soft, just as you imagined they would be. You swallow hard, feeling your whole body heat up. You stood with your mouths together for a moment, before Wanda pulled away, her breathing uncompensated as much as yours, as your lips tingle. 

"Kiss me again." She asks hoarsely, and you move forward. This time it's even better, because Wanda's hands go to your neck and yours to her waist. And when she sighs, you ask for passage with your tongue, following your instincts completely.

The sensation is intoxicating, and sends a shiver through your whole body. Wanda tastes like cherry punch, and you gasp at the sensation of your tongues together, squeezing her waist lightly.

You parted for breath, keeping your foreheads together and your eyes closed.

"Wow." You exclaimed softly breathlessly.

"Yeah, I know." She agrees in the same tone, her hands coming down from your neck to squeeze your shoulders lightly. Wanda kisses you again, her tongue moving against yours slowly, exploring your mouth. You moan softly at the sensation and Wanda pulls away breathlessly, blushing due the sound she has managed to wring out.

"S-sorry." You gasp quickly, feeling your cheeks as hot as the rest of your body.

"Don't be." She says. "That was hot."

You let out a clumsy laugh, and Wanda copies, and the moment dissipates from palpable tension to humorous lightness. You kiss briefly before Wanda circles her arms around your shoulders in a hug that you reciprocate equally.

"Do you want to go back to the party?" You ask when she breaks the embrace, but her hands remain intertwined behind your neck. 

"Not really." She replies with a smile, biting her lips as she looks at you. " I just came to be with you."

"Oh, yeah?" You ask with slight teasing, and Wanda lowers her gaze to your lips.

"Hu-huh. And now that I have you, I don't want to let you go."

You smile, lifting your hands to her neck, caressing her nape lightly as you kiss her again, not as intensely as before, and with a smile on your lips.

When you pull away, Wanda is smiling too.

"Don't worry, Wands. I'm not going anywhere."

//-//

After the ball, there is a new tension in your relationship with Wanda that makes you lose focus on anything other than her. 

Gamora missed no opportunity to tease you about this. And every time she caught you casting passionate glances at Wanda, or the other way around, you got a wry comment to get a room. It was harmless, but it made you and Wanda both blush like tomatoes.

The best change was the kisses. 

They could happen suddenly, or be almost planned. Wanda liked to take you by surprise, you could tell. Stealing firm kisses between corridors that made you blush and clumsy, or kisses when you spent time together with your friends, and her hand slipped into yours. 

You loved all the kisses she wanted to give you. But you had your favorites. The ones that happened when you were alone, and all you could think about was Wanda. They were usually planned, because to have free time, without friends, you need a little organization. So they usually happened when you went to Hogsmeade together, or when you helped her study for the tournament. It was amazing to finish a study session with Wanda's mouth on yours.

But you knew you still needed to talk to her. You were afraid you would lose the kisses if you did.

As the date for the second assignment approached, Wanda began to get anxious, because you all still hadn't deciphered the golden egg clue.

At that moment you were in the Slytherin communal room, sitting cross-legged on the floor with many books around you. Wanda was lying on the couch, a book enchanted to be at her eye level. Gamora and Nebula in the armchairs, also reading. You are trying to find some clue to decipher the egg.

"We've tried the basic open and close spells, right?" Gamora asks without taking her eyes off the book, probably reading about what she mention. 

"Of course." Wanda replies. She sighs in frustration the next moment, taking the enchanted book off her face, and closing it in her lap. You move your hand to hers, trying to reassure her. "I need to figure this out soon, because the task is in a few weeks."

"We will." You tell her with a smile.

"Just out of curiosity, what happens if you don't break out the clue?" Nebula asks and Wanda sighs.

"I won't have any idea what the second task is about and I won't know how to prepare."  She replies. "And then I'll lose and be humiliated in front of the whole school. Feel free to drown me in the great lake if that happens."

Wanda's dramatization makes you all laugh, but then you get an idea and your expression fades. Wanda, who was watching you, looks at you curiously, but you are already getting up, hurrying to get the golden egg that was on the couch.

"What are you going to do?" Gamora asked, as curious as the other girls. You walked over to one of the aquariums and held the egg up high.

"Sorry, folks." You said to the fish, and then opened the clasp. The shrill noise filled the room, but before the girls could complain, you dipped the egg into the water and the sound stopped.

You leaned forward and could hear the low melody.

"I can' believe it." You grumbled contentedly, and then dipped your head into the water. Your friends looked at you with wide eyes.

"Has she finally lost her mind?" Nebula sneered at the other two.

When you surfaced again, you had a smile on your face.

"Girls, it's the merpeople!" You counted excitedly. "That's the clue. I can't believe we stared at the great lake all this time and didn't come up with this idea."

Natasha entered the communal hall next, and when she saw your wet torso, she frowned.

" Should I ask...?" She began with mild irony, watching you take the egg from the aquarium and return to the couches, the water dripping all over the hall.

"She just deciphered the egg!" Wanda warned contentedly, and when you approached, she ran her hands down your neck and gave you a lingering kiss, and you almost dropped the egg on the floor.

"For merlin, get a room." Nat teased before Gamora could do it, and you and Wanda parted with giggles.

You used the wand to dry your body and the floor, returning the egg to Wanda. Nat sat down in one of the free armchairs.

After you finished cleaning up, you repeated the lyrics of the song to them. 

"Does that mean you're going to be underwater for an hour?" Nebula questioned in surprise to Wanda, and the girl sighed.

"I guess so." She replied thoughtfully. "And now I'm going to need to figure out a way to do that."

"If you were an animagus, you could turn into a fish." Nat mocked making the group smile. 

"I thought you'd have a better resistance to holding your breath, Wands. Since you're kissing all the time." Nebula added and Gamora and Nat laughed, while you rolled your eyes awkwardly, and Wanda raised her middle finger at the girl, her cheeks flushed.

"Let's focus, please." Asked the sorceress in front of you, embarrassed by the teasing.

"Yes, yes." Gamora agreed, gesturing. She settled herself in the armchair before speaking again. "I think you could use some plants. I'm sure Mantis must know some herb that will make you breathe underwater."

"Speaking of Mantis, where is she?" Nat asked and you turned your head in her direction.

"She has private lessons with Professor Heimdall, Tasha." You explained. "Of divination. She's pretty good, I think."

Nat murmurs in understanding, and Wanda says she will talk to Mantis about it when she is free. You gather up the books, and decide to spend some time playing chess and drinking tea now that you no longer have to worry about unraveling the egg.

//-//

You miss many opportunities to tell Wanda about your connection with her. That's because you have too many moments alone, between conversations and make-out sessions, and you just don't tell. And the feeling of keeping something from her corrupts you inside, but you bear it.

And then the date for the second task comes, and you're a nervous wreck, and Wanda doesn't understand why you're especially affectionate this morning, but she's not complaining.

Mantis got some kind of plant for her, which would give Wanda enough time to stay submerged as long as necessary.

You and the girls had also practiced swimming in the great lake with Wanda many times since the day you discovered the clue. And the vision of Wanda in her swimsuit was still preserved somewhere in your mind.

"Have you seen Pietro anywhere?" Wanda asked annoyed, looking around as you all had breakfast. The vast majority of the school was already on their feet as well, excited for the start of the task.

"I last saw him last night, after we went to Quidditch practice." Quill counters distractedly, passing jam on one of the toasts. 

"You two had worked things out, right?" You ask as you are sitting next to Wanda, she nods and then sighs.

"I think so." She mumbles. "I wanted to see him before the task."

You bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing how to help her. It was already time to leave, and you hoped that Pietro wouldn't be so stubborn to stay away from his sister on this day. You kept your hand intertwined in Wanda's all the way, trying to assure her, and she was very grateful.

The clue was right after all. The whole school was carried to the middle of the lake through the boats, up to huge iron bleachers that were conjured up during the night. 

"You look so cute in that uniform." You comment in Wanda's ear before bidding her farewell to go up to the bleachers, talking about the Slytherin competition uniform, and smiling at the way her cheeks redden. "Be careful, Wands."

"I will." She assures before kissing you. She joins the champions and you look at her one last time before going upstairs to join the rest of the students.

When Principal Harkness announces the start of the task, after explaining that an important treasure had been taken from the champions and they would need to find it in the lake, you stand with your body tense with nervousness, clenching your hands on the railing as you look down.  The whistle sounds and you hold your breath as you watch Wanda dive in. 

"Hey, are you going to be okay?" Gamora asks next to you, placing her hand on top of yours on the metal. You swallow dryly, looking away from the lake to her.

"I will." You say trying to force a smile. "As long as she does."

Gamora looks at you a moment, assessing your face.

"I'm sure Wanda will be fine." She says. 

You nod, looking down again. Now all that was left to do was wait.

//-//

"Did you hear what Tony just said?" 

You blinked a few times. You were in the circle with your friends in the bleachers, and you got distracted again by looking at the lake. Everyone was anxiously awaiting the return of the champions to the surface, talking among themselves and placing bets on the winners. Tony's friends joined in as soon as the task began.

"Sorry, Gamora." You say. "What?"

"Natasha is missing too." She says and you frown in confusion looking at the rest of the group. 

"What?"

"Pietro and Tasha, Y/N." Gamora says. "Tony just said they were supposed to meet last night, but she didn't show up. And no one saw her, just like Pietro."

You didn't know exactly what to make of that, but when you looked at the lake, you frowned.

"Gamora, you don't think that..."

"That's exactly what we're thinking." It is Tony who speaks now, looking at your expression and deciphering the idea that has gone through your head. "I just talked to the Durmstrang guys. One of their boys vanishes at night too, I think he's Grey's best friend."

You widened your eyes, and then leaned on the railing, looking down. Tony and Gamora mimicked your position.

"That's insane." Gamora commented, and you nodded in agreement.

"What happens if the champions lose the task?" Tony asked and you shook your head, not liking the possibility.

"I'm sure Professor Harkness wouldn't let anything bad happen." You say. "Right?"

Gamora and Tony murmur in agreement, and you find that your words were more to reassure you than to reassure them.

//-//

With thirty-eight minutes on the clock, Jean Grey emerged from the lake. And she was not alone.

The crowd started cheering as she and Scott Lang, as Harkness announced, swam out of the lake. Reporters from the Daily Prophet were also taking several pictures, and you noticed the Durmstrang flags in the hands of some students.

Your friends seemed reassured to see Scott's condition, deducing that Pietro and Natasha would also be fine. You only felt more nervous because Wanda was still at the lake.

Twelve minutes after Jean, it was Maria Hill's turn to step up. The crowd celebrated as they watched the remainder of her transfiguration into a shark before she returned to human form, bringing Nat with her. You and your friends rushed downstairs to Tasha, but you barely caught Gamora's teasing about the redhead being the treasure of the foreign student, as your gaze was on the lake while you were on the edge.

"Ten minutes to the end of the second task!" Announced one of the judges loudly, causing the crowd to cheer. You felt your stomach drop. Where was Wanda? 

And then you saw her. But only inside your head. 

It was another vision, and you felt your body go cold as if you were in the lake. It was dark and blue, and you couldn't breathe properly.

Then you blinked and were back in the stands.

With a sob, you jumped into the lake.

Immediately, as soon as you did, the crowd and the teachers looked at you with shock, but you dove in the next.

It was very cold.

The lake was as dark underneath as you thought it would be. And you were gradually running out of air as you sank, but you didn't care. You needed to find Wanda.

When you began to lose consciousness, you thought you saw a light, and struggled to swim a little further. But then your air ran out completely, and you passed out.

//-//

You woke up in a jolt, feeling like you were drowning. 

But you were warm, and lying on a soft surface. It took you a few seconds to realize that it was the bed in the infirmary.

The warmth came from the comforter at the level of your neck, clearly bewitching judging by the way it shimmered softly.

"Hey." It was Wanda. At your side. Safe. 

You moved out of the covers quickly, your hand reaching for hers on the bed.

"Hey, how are you feeling? You didn't get hurt did you?" The questions escaped your mouth faster than you even thought about them. Wanda had a frown on her face, but she squeezed your hand back and with the other she touched your face, and you leaned into the touch, feeling your body relax.

"I'm fine, I promise." She assures. "I just don't understand why you did that."

"Did what exactly?" You ask confused, trying to remember how you ended up in the infirmary. Had you hit your head somewhere?

Wanda looks at you with confusion.

"Jump in the lake." She clarified. "Why did you jump in the lake after me?"

You blinked in surprise, giving a short laugh.

"What are you talking about, Wands?" you asked. "I was watching you. Are you sure I didn't fall? Maybe I hit my head and..."

"You don't remember?" She interrupts in shock, and then lets out an incredulous sigh. "Okay, now I'm even more worried."

You were feeling your head aching, and you rubbed your fingers over the tip of your forehead a moment, before sighing.

"What happened to you in the task, anyway? You were gone long." 

Wanda looked away from yours, biting her lip.

"It was nothing." She grumbled and you frowned.

"Wanda..." You started. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying." She retorted snidely. But when she looked at you, she didn't keep her gaze and you sighed, letting go of her hand and throwing yourself back on the bed, feeling frustrated. "I just don't want you to think I'm weird."

You frown at the statement, turning your head to look at her again. Wanda takes a deep breath before confessing.

"I've been having visions in my head." 

You think you can laugh at the irony of the facts. Wanda takes advantage of your lack of reaction to continue explaining.

"S-started last year. I... I don't know what they mean, but sometimes they make me too distracted. And well, I had one during the task, and I got lost. So it took me a while to find Pietro, but I was fine." She recounts. "You didn't have to jump in the lake and..."

"I saw you." You interrupt half breathlessly. "In my head. I... I thought you were drowning." You recount recalling, feeling a slight pain deep in your eyes. "It was dark and I felt like I was being pulled under."

Wanda's eyes widen.

"I fought with Grindylows down there for a moment." She says. "They tried to pull me to the bottom, and well, it was quite despairing, but I managed to take them on. It was right after I got lost."

"R-right."

Both of you are silent for a moment, your breaths slightly uncompensated as you try to understand exactly what it all means. You clear your throat deciding to break the silence.

"Wanda, what happened to me?" 

"You almost drowned." She says lowering her gaze to the bed. "I found you on the way back. Unconscious." Wanda counters with watery eyes. "For a moment I thought..."

She sighs softly, controlling the urge to cry by shaking her head slightly and forcing a smile. You feel horrible for worrying her like that.

"Heimtall and Strange jumped into the lake a little later behind you. I guess everyone thought you were playing tricks, but when you didn't climb back up they realized something was wrong. I was trying to carry you along with Pietro when they caught up with us."

"Come here." You ask opening your arms and Wanda climbs on the bed, sinking against you. You both immediately relax from the embrace, and you close your eyes as Wanda buries her face in your neck, running her hands behind your back.

"Please don't ever do anything like that again." She whispers against your skin, and you swallow dryly. Judging from the facts, you can't promise her that.

//-//

Your friends came to visit you in the infirmary too. You had a short episode of hypothermia, so Nurse Cho wanted you to rest and had let only Wanda stay to see you. Everyone had agreed that you would like to see her first. 

Tony told the teachers and judges that he had dared you to jump in the lake, and even though your friends didn't understand why Tony didn't want the adults to know what was going on with you lately, they all backed up the story.

You and Tony ended up with a month's detention for this.

The only relatively good thing about this whole story was that you and Wanda shared the same experiences. You told her about your visions and nightmares, and she told you about hers. Visions of red lights as her powers, and masked witches. 

You talked to Wanda about your connection on a rainy Thursday in May. You both were on your bed in the dormitory, a few spell books between you to finish the lesson Professor Stephen had passed on, and Wanda was concentrating, the strands of brown hair falling down her face as she bit the end of her pencil and read the words in front of you. She was beautiful, and you were in love. And you could no longer hide it.

"I need to tell you something." 

Wanda looked at you with a mildly surprised expression, but smiled, shifting on the bed to look at you.

You watched her expression go from confused, to embarrassed, and then to worried in a few seconds after the words "There's something weird going on with me. I think I'm magically connected to you, and I'm not just talking about liking you" came out of your mouth. And then you told about the way you felt every time you thought of her in danger, and Wanda swallowed dryly, looking away.

"I don't know what to say." She confessed clumsily, and then clasped her hands to her face for a moment in frustration. "Shit, I have no idea what that means."

You sighed, reaching out to reach for her hand on the bed. Wanda watched your fingers together, and you frowned as her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm putting you in danger, aren't I?" She asked in a whisper, and you looked at her with confusion, but she didn't wait for you to speak. "I'm talking about the lake. You almost drowned to follow me. What happens if I get hurt?"

"Wanda..."

"No." She interrupts forcing a smile, and releasing his hand. "Do you realize how dangerous magical connections can be? What happens if, I don't know, the third task is even more dangerous? Will you throw yourself in front of some other monster? How far does it go? I don't want your life to depend on mine!"

Wanda stands up, babbling nervously about things that might happen, and you look at her in surprise, standing up as well. You try to touch her shoulder, but she pushes your hand away.

"Do you even know if you really like me? If it isn't just because of the magic?" She accuses and you take a step back.

"Don't say that." You retort starting to feel irritated and hurt.

"No, I mean it." She repeats in a whiny voice. "How can you be sure your feelings are real? It could just be the magic and.... "

"I am in love with you." You interrupt, but Wanda just shakes her head in disbelief, letting the tears flow. When you try to touch her again, she sobs and pulls away. "Wanda, I really am. Please..."

"Stop." She gasps as she pulls further away. "Just stop." She asks and you hold yourself in place, feeling your face wet. Wanda takes a deep breath, wiping away her tears. "I need time. I don't...I don't know what to make of this right now."

You swallow dryly, looking at her in shock.

"I don't want us to end." You say and Wanda just sobs softly, shaking her head.

"I can't stay with you without knowing if what you feel for me is real." She retorts in a voice hoarse from crying, but her gaze doesn't flinch. Your stomach turns the wrong way, because you feel terrible. "I need time to think. And I can't think with you by my side."

"Wanda..."

"I'm sorry." 

Then she left. And you let the tears flow freely. 

//-//

Tag list> // @sxfwap​ // @table57​ ||@imapotatao​ / @aimezvousbrahms​/ @ensorcellme​/ @helloalycia​@mionemymind / @abimess​ / @stephanieromanoff​ / @yourtaletotell​ / @tomy5girls​ / @justagaypanicking​ / @thegayw1tch​ / @idek-5​ // @myperfectlovepoem​ // @helloalycia​ // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam​ // @olsensnpm​

[ruewrites]

Sky Full of Stars

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 2675

Warning: None

A/N: Happy Day 7 of Solodeus Week! I decided to combine both of the prompts Stars and Soulmates for today. I had a lot of fun participating and I hope that you all enjoyed! I loved seeing other people's work as well. I hope that this is something that continued to grow in the future! Comments are appreciated!

The posters had been hanging around RAD for months at this point. Tonight, shooting stars would fill the dark Devildom sky. All the students were buzzing about it and the rumor mill was running over time. Who asked out who? Did she really get rejected? Did he really think he had a chance? Did they make things official? Asmo made it his job to know all of the gossip. He had participated in his fair share when it came to rejections. It wasn’t his fault that he was beautiful and that people threw themselves at him because of it!

However, his rejections were coming a little harsher today than they had in days past. And that was due to the fact that the one person he actually wanted to ask him out hadn’t even made a move yet. He’d been pulling out all the stops too! He was spending extra time on his hair, did his make up extra special, and dropped a significant amount of grim on his nails. Yet Solomon seemed completely dense as to what Asmo was angling for.

Tonight was supposed to be a night of romance, the most romantic event of the century even! And he’d be damned if he was going to be left out of it all. What would people say if he, the Avatar of Lust himself, didn’t have a date to the star shower? It would be absolutely humiliating! But he didn’t want just anyone, he wanted Solomon.

Now here he was.

On the last day of classes before the big event.

And Solomon still hadn’t asked him.

Solomon had been locked away in the library, barely even responding to Asmo’s texts if at all. He hadn’t even bothered to have a decent conversation with him! But that wouldn’t stop him. It couldn’t stop him. He was going to spend the most romantic night of his life, with Solomon, alone at the star shower.

At least, that was the plan, until Lucifer gathered them all into the living room.

“What?” Asmo heard his own voice ring in chorus with his brothers.

Lucifer let out a sigh, “Lord Diavolo wants us all to meet so we can enjoy the stars together and before any of you can ask, no, you can’t get out of it. This is a mandatory event that we all will be attending together.”

Normally, Asmo would love attending one of Lord Diavolo’s little parties, but this wasn’t one of those normal times. So much for him having a romantic night alone with Solomon under the stars. Now he would be spending this wonderful night alone with his brothers.

To make matters worse, he had no doubt that Diavolo would be showering Lucifer with affection all night. Even if Lucifer was flustered and trying to change the subject, it would still be completely unfair. Asmo should be getting attention like that from Solomon. Instead he’d be watching Diavolo fawn over Lucifer all night and contemplating how he was going to explain that he hadn’t had a date.

He was a little more than crestfallen walking into the palace. He was more than prepared to wallow in his own pity the whole night until a familiar voice caressed his ear.

“-I mean, are you sure Barbatos?”

“Most certainly. I’d bet almost anything on it.”

Asmo’s head shot up. Solomon was deep in a conversation with Barbatos, the two didn’t seem to notice that the brothers had walked in yet. He would have gone over to him, but Asmo was completely caught off guard. By the time his mind had processed the situation before him, more figures were already greeting them.

“Oh, Simeon,” Lucifer said, “I didn’t realize you all would be here too.”

“Lord Diavolo thought it would be a wonderful idea if we all got together to enjoy the stars together. Luke was really excited to see them, and I thought it sounded like a marvelous idea.”

By the time Asmo looked back, both Solomon and Barbatos were gone.

***

So far, the night was going exactly how Asmo predicted it would. Lord Diavolo had whisked Lucifer away, not allowing him escape from whatever ministrations he had planned. Solomon should be paying attention to him like that now. He should be lavishing him in endless praise and adoration. Instead he was off who knows where with another one of their pact mates most likely. He slumped down into his seat, picking at whatever food was currently sitting in front of him. He wasn’t interested in eating. He wasn’t interested in doing too much of anything really.

“Asmodeus?” he hadn’t even realized Simeon sliding into the chair next to him, “Are you quite alright?”

Asmo looked at him for a moment before returning his attention to… whatever it was on his plate. “Oh just peachy. I love my partner ignoring me. All week. Not inviting me out to gaze at the beautiful stars falling from the sky. Like every other couple at RAD. It’s a wonderful feeling.”

Was he being passive aggressive?

Yes.

Simeon cleared his throat and shifted in the seat next to him ever so slightly. He seemed a little taken aback by Asmo’s response. “Well, that uh… Certainly sounds like… Something,” how ironic it was that a writer was struggling to find his words, “In any case, would you like to accompany me?”

Asmodeus stopped playing with the food on his plate and slowly turned to Simeon with a raised eyebrow. “Accompany you?” he repeated, “Where?”

“Oh, you know… Around.”

This had to be one of the most painfully awkward conversations that he had ever had in his entire life if not the most painful. Simeon was still fidgeting in his seat and adjusting the high collar on his neck. He looked over to Lucifer’s blushing face as Diavolo rattled off yet another list of praises to him. Asmo couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he didn’t need to. His feelings would still be the same.

It was Solomon’s own fault that he wasn’t spending time with him.

“Alright then,” Asmo stood from his seat with a little more force than what was necessary, “Let’s go somewhere.”

***

Simeon led Asmo away from the crowd and down the long halls of the palace. Eventually they were in the palace gardens. And then they went deeper, and deeper, and deeper. If the castle hadn’t been so tall, Asmo surely would have lost sight of it. They walked for a little while longer in silence until they came to a wrought iron gate. To Asmo’s surprise, Barbatos was standing next to that gate.

“Good evening Asmodeus. Enjoying yourself so far?” he asked.

“Well, I- … No.”

“I see. Well I hope your night gets better,” he moved so that he was in front of the gate, and in one swift motion and a click of the lock it was open, “At this point we both will be leaving. Do enjoy yourself.”

Asmodeus was confused. Actually, confused may have been a severe understatement. But he still walked through, even as the door clicked shut behind him.

Beautiful flowers dotted the bushes on either side of him. The hedge walls twisted and turned leading him down the path under the light of the moon. Slowly, the trail widened leading him up a hill, and the scene certainly took him by surprise.

Solomon was there, a telescope behind him as he fidgeted with what Asmo assumed were last minute details. There was a blanket, a basket, and flowers in a vase in the center. At the sound of his footsteps, Solomon lifted his head and a smile spread across his face. Quickly he stood and made his way down to meet Asmo halfway. His arms were out wide for him but instead of running and embracing him, Asmo stopped right in front of him with his hands on his hips.

“Excuse me. Exactly what were you thinking?” Asmo asked.

Solomon stopped and blinked once, twice. “I- What?”

“You heard me,” Asmo huffed and leaned back, “You. Didn’t. Ask. Me. To. Come. Out. With. You. Tonight. I’d been waiting for you too since the posters came out Solomon! And you just never did! Do you have any idea how many people kept trying to get me to go with them? How many people I turned down? I just-” He let out a groan of frustration, throwing his hands onto his face. A small part of him was relieved, but he was also incredibly frustrated.

“Well, I mean, Diavolo was planning on asking all of us to come so,” Solomon gestured to the scene behind him, “I figured we’d both be here anyways.”

“I didn’t know that!” Asmo exclaimed, “Lucifer didn’t tell us! We were going until Friday! And he didn’t seem to know that all of you were even going to be here! I just-! Do you have any idea how much stress you caused me? If I get wrinkles I will hunt you down.”

Solomon laughed and put a hand on the small of Asmo’s back, leading him up to the blanket. “I apologize Asmodeus, I didn’t realize,” he stopped and took ahold of Asmo’s hands, kneeling on the ground and tugging him to follow, “I got so caught up in preparing all of this that the idea you might want me to ask slipped my mind. I figured it was a given we’d spend the night together.”

Oh. Oh Solomon was smooth with his tongue. Of course he was, he could be when he wanted to be. He could either be smooth and sexy or a complete fool who loved to make Asmo laugh. And what could he say? Whatever he was doing was absolutely working. He followed him down onto the blanket and folded his knees behind him.

“Look up,” Solomon said, pulling Asmo close and looking up at the sky, “You can see a couple, they just started not too long ago. You can see them from here, the telescope is just in case we want to get a closer look.”

Asmo nodded and snuggled closer to Solomon. He was quiet for a moment before speaking, “Did you really spend all your time planning this?”

“Well most of the time,” Solomon asked, “I did have to sleep at some point you know.”

Asmo snorted and elbowed his side. Solomon’s response was to bury his nose into Asmo’s hair.

The stars started to pick up in the sky. They started coming in twos, then threes, until the entire sky was lit up with their beauty. Neither one of them spoke, instead they stared up at the beauty above them and relished in each other's company.

“You know, I never really believed in the concept of soulmates,” Solomon said, his hand running up and down Asmo’s arm, “The idea never really seemed plausible to me. I mean one person being out there for everyone? Everyone in all three realms? It seemed far-fetched really. But then-”

“But then?”

“I met you,” Solomon’s voice was soft, adoring. It made Asmo feel warm, “And my perspective changed. I thought, perhaps it could be possible. I used to think of humans alone when I thought of soulmates. One human for one human. But perhaps, soulmates could be a human and a demon.”

Solomon kissed the top of his head and relaxed once again into his embrace. Asmo mulled over his words.

Soulmates.

Did he believe in soulmates?

The idea was incredibly romantic, but what truly was a soulmate?

Asmo turned his attention away from the sky to stare at Solomon. He took in his features, his eyes, his cheek bones, his strong jawline, his nose. All of them were seared into Asmo’s mind, and when he thought about them, his heart fluttered. He knew the unconditional love that came with Solomon, and every little thing about him always brought him back to that fact. Every little moment they shared, every kiss, every breath was intertwined with a silent ‘I love you’, a silent promise.

What they had together was an unspoken promise, something that just was and always would be.

Under the starlight, Asmo moved to look up at Solomon. No words were spoken between them. They moved closer together.

Under the starlight they were one.

One body.

One mind.

One single soul adrift out at sea.

Every touch lit Asmo ablaze, every little movement struck him deep within his core, every kiss on his skin was a mark on a well memorized road map.

It wasn’t till long after the display had finished, that the two of them were making their way back to the castle still all too tangled up in eachother, but also trying to fix their clothes. Asmo knew that Lucifer knew as soon as he stepped inside. His brother took one look at both him and Solomon, taking note of their clothing and narrowed his eyes.

Oh Asmo could already hear the lecture that he'd brought upon himself, and he could only imagine what choice words Lucifer had in store for Solomon. Lucifer didn’t like the relationship, but he also didn’t know Solomon like Asmo did. He offered Lucifer a little wave before taking Solomon’s arm and walking off to a table together.

“Before I forget, I have one more thing for you,” Solomon said, pushing Asmo’s chair in, “I just-”

Asmo felt Solomon slip something into both of his ears, and when he sat down, he held up his D.D.D. so that Asmo could see. Two of the most gorgeous earrings Asmo had ever seen now rested gently in his ears. They sparkled and glittered down from the studs in his ears. And the studs… They had a moving image in them, a scene that looked oh so familiar.

“I had the telescope set up for another reason aside from getting a closer look at the stars.” Solomon started, “I wanted you to have that scene with you forever. I’d been working on a spell to capture it the moment I learned this was going to happen.”

“I love it,” Asmo breathed, gently touching the earrings as he admired them in Solomon’s camera. Solomon grabbed his hand once again and squeezed.

Soulmates.

Maybe Asmo did believe in the word after all.

He didn’t care who was around them or who saw. Asmo leaned in and kissed Solomon’s lips. He could already see his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red, Solomon didn’t pull away. Instead he ran his hands up and down Asmo’s arms, indulging his partner in the kiss.

Asmo had never been happier than when he’d been with Solomon.

Soulmates.

Solomon always made his days.

Soulmates.

He filled his skies full of stars.

Soulmates.

It was hard not to see stars when he was with him.

Soulmates.

The word continued to ring out in Asmo’s mind. Perhaps Solomon had been made for him. Perhaps this had been planned from the beginning. But he didn’t care, because either way, Solomon was his, and he was Solomon’s

When they pulled away from the kiss, Asmo swore he saw thousands of shooting stars in Solomon’s eyes. Thousands of his wishes were constantly being fulfilled by the man before him. He leaned into Solomon’s arms from his chair, resting his head on his chest and letting the gentle thump of his heartbeat lull him into a sense of security. Solomon’s hands roamed over his body, visiting places he had long visited before.

Soulmates.

This human was his, and he would always be his.

If anyone from the newspaper club was here, they could take all the pictures that their little hearts could desire. Everyone he turned down should know the wonderful man that deserved him. They could all say what they wanted, but it didn’t matter, because Solomon held his heart and he held Solomon’s.

Solomon lit up his sky with stars, and in the end, that was all that mattered.

[renegadeontherunn]

angstpril day 11: collision

I’m using the alternate prompt: so close, yet so far for today! hmm yes have some early Ahsoka & Anakin arguments. maybe poor communication is a lineage thing. 

“—and then saber practice at noon.”

Ahsoka picked at her toast, head resting on one fist. “Okay,” she said.

“I think we should hold off on starting your new classes until we’re finished with our next assignment in a couple days.” Anakin poured himself more water, and repositioned himself where he was sitting on the counter. “That way you can start fresh when we get back.”

“Master Drallig said I should start right away.”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

Ahsoka gritted her teeth. “That’s just what he said. I don’t know.”

“No, this way’s better.”

She held back a sigh. “Okay.” 

“Oh, and I know Thursdays are takeout-night, but I’ve got a meeting with Senator Amidala.” He looked away. “Important stuff, you know how it is.”

Ahsoka stopped herself from yelling. What? But you promised! And you missed the last three takeout nights! And we were supposed to get ice cream to celebrate me finishing this rotation of classes. But all she said was, “Okay.”

Anakin hopped down from the counter. “Do you want to meet at the training rooms or here?”

“We can meet there,” Ahsoka said, voice bland. She put her plate in the sink.

“Okay,” Anakin said shortly. “See you at noon, then.” He stepped toward the door. 

Ahsoka’s head whipped towards him. Was he mad? What for? “What?”

“What did I do?” he asked, but his face was stony. 

Worrying for a moment she’d misconstrued things, Ahsoka blurted out, “Oh. Nothing, I—” She stopped. The are you mad? hung from her lips.

Anakin left without another word. 

Ahsoka glared at the door. What was that? Had she done something? All she’d said was “Okay.” How was that wrong?

Whatever. She had a meditation session with Barriss that she was already late to. Ahsoka could worry about it later. It was probably nothing. They’d have saber practice at noon and everything would be back to normal. She’d just have to go to the refectory for dinner and eat there instead of on the couch with Dex’s takeout boxes littered around the room. 

But meditating with Barriss only set her further on edge. What was Anakin’s problem? Clearly he was mad about something, but Ahsoka didn’t know what and she was terrible at sussing those things out. She didn’t know him well enough yet to understand all his moods or subtle tells. Was he being passive aggressive? Or was she actually reading too much into things?

“What is it?” Barriss asked her softly. They were tucked away against some trees Ahsoka was pretty sure were from Kashyyyk. It was one of her favorite spots.

Ahsoka blinked her eyes open, abandoning her pretense of perfect meditating Padawan. “Nothing, just—Master Skywalker and I are in some weird potential fight thing. I think. Maybe.”

Barriss looked highly confused. “Have you spoken to him about it?”

Ahsoka shrugged, not really in the mood to discuss it. It would take too much energy to recount the situation that morning and she doubted she could articulate the full experience. Barriss would probably just tell her to talk to him or maybe that it was something she’d done. And Ahsoka certainly wasn’t in the mood to hear that. Whatever, she thought again. It was fine.

But by the time saber practice rolled around, Ahsoka still hadn’t decided whether she wanted things to blow over or if she wanted to fight it out after all. She groaned as she entered the training rooms. Fight what out? What were they even meant to be arguing about?

Anakin’s face was pinched when she walked in. Great. So it looked like they were fighting it out.

“What?” she asked without preamble. Best not to beat around the bush.

“What?” Anakin repeated. “Why are you always asking me that?”

Ahsoka’s head jerked back. “Asking you what?”

Anakin brushed a stray hair out of his face. “I can’t do anything without you thinking I’m mad. It’s like I can’t even talk to you.”

“What? When has that ever happened?”

Anakin scoffed. “I don’t have a running list. But it has. I have necessary duties, Ahsoka, ones that don’t always involve you.”

Ahsoka frowned, hating the tone he was taking with her. She wasn’t some stupid crechling. “I know that.”

“So what’s your deal?” He looked at her at last. “Is takeout night really that important to you? Cause maybe this meeting is important to me.” 

Ahsoka’s mouth dropped open. “What is your problem? I don’t care about takeout night or even that we were supposed to be celebrating.” She ignored that the room had grown silent even as she felt everyone’s eyes on the two of them. “Or about your stupid meeting with a senator. Maybe I’d just like a Master who wasn’t so moody.”

Anakin’s eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

Feeling her pent-up frustration—the kind that was due to more than just Anakin—simmering on her tongue, Ahsoka continued. “You’re mad about something all the time. And I can never tell what it is because you refuse to communicate and you just—” No, no, no, don’t cry. You’re angry. You’re not upset. You’re angry. “You just swallow your words and cut off conversations and you’re just—ugh!” Ahsoka had a split second hesitation where she wondered if she was about to go too far, about to do the thing she’d gotten in trouble for so often as an Initiate: speaking without thinking, saying something she’d regret. “Do you even want a Padawan? Cause it certainly doesn’t seem like it! Are you even trying to be a good Master?”

Fuck. 

Anakin stared at her, his face deathly pale. 

Why couldn’t she have just kept her stupid, immature mouth shut? Force, she was such an idiot! 

Silence buzzed in Ahsoka’s ears.

No wonder it didn’t seem like he wanted a Padawan! Probably because he didn’t want this Padawan! Probably because the Padawan he did have was a failure to the entire Order! 

“I—” But she stopped. What could she possibly say after that?

Ahsoka blinked stinging tears out of her eyes and when her vision cleared, Anakin was gone.

[willcwthewisp]

next in line | marley & willow

LOCATION: willow’s workplace. PARTIES:  @detectivedreameater and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: marley has some questions for willow concerning a missing person from her work. CONTAINS: head trauma mentions.

Marley pinched the bridge of her nose as she fought back the wave of another headache. Her body felt like it was deflating, slowly, with each hour that passed. Her blackouts were getting worse as well, and maybe Erin had a point, maybe she should get Queenie to look at her head. Maybe the crash had done more damage than she thought. Still, she hesitated, because she felt as if something were different this time. Something had changed. She couldn’t put her finger on what, but for now, she would push it to the back of her mind. She was back at work, but only on interrogation terms. So, it was with three other officers, that she’d ended up at a call center where someone had been reported missing. Missing persons were so boring, it was the same ending every time. They were dead or no longer human. In rare occasions, under a fae promise or kept in a vampire’s basement for food. She rubbed her eyes as she went in to her first interview, with one Willow Finch. Her picture looked like she smiled too much, and Marley frowned as she walked in, unsurprised, but still disappointed, the woman matched the photo. She sat in the chair across from her. “Need any water?” she asked, motioning to the pitcher next to them. 

Getting questioned by the police was the absolute last place Willow wanted to be. Sure, they’d brought in literally everyone from the office, but she couldn’t help but feel as if she were the one under a magnifying glass, even if that wasn’t true in the least. They couldn’t have possibly come to ask about the man at her gallery, right? The one who’s arm she’d broken? After all, he said he wouldn’t press charges! But no matter what she told herself, Willow’s foot was still tapping anxiously against the office floor as the detective stood across from her. Detective… “Um- sorry- what did you say your name was?” Had the woman even said her name? She always felt at least a little better when she knew someone’s name. As for the water… “Oh- no thank you! I mean...maybe? Or...maybe not! Sorry- I just don’t know what the protocol is here. Which one’s the one that means you’re guilty again? Drinking the water or not drinking it?”

“Neither,” Marley said unenthusiastically as she watched the woman practically bounce in her chair. She talked a million miles an hour and Marley was tired. She poured herself a glass of water and then the other, scooting the extra glass towards the woman. “Neither means you’re guilty, I’m literally just offering you a glass of water.” And it was the truth, actually. Offering a glass of water was supposed to simply establish a baseline for behaviour, but this woman was so squirrelly, Marley knew immediately that wasn’t going to happen. “Stryder,” she announced sitting back and looking her over. She had big, brown eyes and shiny, blonde hair. She looked so unassuming, sitting across from her, almost an opposite to Marley’s all black outfit and her black hair and dark eyes. “So, first things first. I need you to state your name, age, how long you’ve been working here, and you daily schedule, please.” Maybe this would go better. She doubted it, but she could still hope, right?

“Neither?” Willow echoed with brief confusion, her mind working too quickly and anxiously to realize exactly what Marley meant. “But you can’t do neither- you can only take it or not take it?” How was she supposed to look innocent if neither action was the answer? It dawned on her too late what the detective had actually been getting around to. “Oh- you mean...nevermind…” Willow looked away in her embarrassment, cheeks already heating as a flush came over her cheeks. “Sorry I’m just ah- a little nervous. Not that I have anything to be nervous about!” She didn’t even really know the man that had gone missing due to mostly keeping to herself in the office. There was a reason she’d chosen a job as a telemarketer, and that reason was the exact opposite of any attempts to make friends. “Stryder?” Willow’s head titled quizzically to the side, the name ringing a bell. “You’re the woman who-” The medium glanced around as if making sure they were truly alone before leaning forward and lowering her voice. “-the woman who knows Nora?” Her back straightened against the chair as she prepared to answer the question, as if she were readying for a spelling bee at school. “Right- uh, Willow Finch. I’m 32, and I’ve been working here for…” She did a quick tabulation, grimacing when she realized how long her gallery had been closed. “About six months. Daily schedule like...work schedule or the entire day?”

Yeah, this was going to be a long day. Marley sighed and rubbed her head before setting the file down on the table and leaning forward. Oh, shit, this was that one chick from online? The one Nora had harassed? She almost groaned out loud. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said, tapping the papers, “guess I shoulda figured. Not too many Willows in a town like this.” It wasn’t an accurate commentary, really, just another dry joke. Marley’s specialty. She wrote down all the things Willow told her, watching the woman’s face closely. She wasn’t lying about any of it, not that she thought she would. But the straightened back and the momentary pauses between sentences helped establish a quick baseline, in case she did try to lie. “Like work schedule. I don’t need to know what you do with your free time, besides throw bear people around.”

Great. It wasn’t that Willow didn’t like Marley based on her first impressions online. It was just that the woman had seemed abrasive, somewhat aggressive, and a little dismissive. Okay...maybe she didn’t really like Detective Stryder. But the last thing she needed was for a police officer to know that. “Is there...not?” The medium blinked slowly, apparently not catching Marley’s dry humor in person in that same way it’d flown over her head on the forums. “Okay-” she began with a nod, this time looking as if she were getting ready for an oral examination in front of the class. “Well- I usually work five days a week. I’m full-time.” She’d needed to be to even begin to cover her bills. She’d bought her apartment in the prime of her gallery flourishing, and telemarketing wasn’t quite as profitable. “And uh- when I’m here I just...you know- call people and try and sell them things.” With the mention of bear people, Willow’s voice quieted. “I thought you said they’re called bugbears?”

Marley was just trying to drown the exhaustion out when something felt as if it were being lifted from her shoulders, and her body felt suddenly lighter. So light she almost thought she was standing up, but looked down at her hands and found herself in the same position as before. She blinked, looked around, then back at Willow. Though her head still hurt and her eyes still drooped, she no longer felt the extreme exhaustion she’d had since first waking up from her accident a few weeks ago. “Full time, got it,” she noted, picking up her pen slowly and writing that down, too. She’d completely missed Willow’s first question, but breezed right by it as if it had never been said. “When do you take your breaks? Same time every day?” she asked, glancing across the table to Willow and wondering if she was simply seeing things, or if that side of the room suddenly looked darked. “What? Oh, yeah, they are. It was just-- I just...joking.” 

A heaviness settled onto Willow as Marley spoke, suddenly feeling as if she were carrying more weight than she had been before. Rolling her shoulders, she tried to shake the sensation to no avail. Ugh, was this just another anxious symptom of being interrogated? Maybe she could just go straight to sleep after work, and shake the feeling of being drained by the sensation of being under a microscope. She didn’t feel the need to repeat the question Marley had skipped over concerning her name. The sooner she got out of her the better. “Usually I do. I like to keep a schedule and stuff.” It made it so she knew what to expect of the day. “Every now and then I’ll take it other times, though.” Why did her break schedule matter? Did they think she’d had something to do with the missing person on her breaks? Again she felt the feeling of nerves clawing up her throat, pressing her to ask her next question. “You don’t- you don’t think it was me, right? I mean honestly I would have confessed by now. I’m really bad at keeping secrets that make me feel guilty. You should ask my sister- I always ended up tattling on her, and Forest is a whole other story. Oh- Forest is my brother.” Gosh, that had been a lot of words, hadn’t it? Already it felt as if they were taking a toll on her. A lot of words meant a lot of energy.

“And what time are those breaks?” Marley asked, going down the routine list of questions. No, she didn’t think Willow had anything to do with it, of course she didn’t. The girl had accidentally confessed to hurting Nora like two seconds after finding out Marley was a cop, it was doubtful she could lie even to save her own life. Marley took in a breath and for the first time in ages, felt it reach all the way down to her toes. She couldn’t help but smile a little. “They’re just routine questions,” she told her, tapping the notebook with the pen, like children do when they have too much energy. “The faster you answer them, the faster you get outta here. I know you didn’t have anything to do with it, Willow. You’re a narc, you’d narc on yourself, proof being that you already did it once before.” She gave a smirk, shrugging as she sat back. “I really don’t need to know about your family dynamics right now. But if it turns out you did kidnap this dude, then you can tell me allll about them, sound like a deal?”

The time of the breaks? Willow didn’t understand why these were the questions being asked, and that only sent her a little further over the edge of trepidation. She didn’t know how to give a good answer without knowing what it was Marley was looking for. “Um- I usually take the half hour break first around 12:30 for lunch, and then the fifteen minute break around 3:30.” She liked her mornings longer, saving her break for later in the day when she was less fresh. Now the detective was smiling. Was that good or bad? “Okay...what are the other questions? Or is that all of them?” she asked hopefully, trying to remember if there was any more of the coffee she liked leftover in the breakroom. She wasn’t usually a big drinker of it, but the sudden drowsiness that had taken her over was inspiring her to think differently. A frown came over Willow’s lips, not entirely certain that she liked the way Marley said the words narc, and applied it to her. “What do you mean I did it once before?” Oh god, was Marley lying and she did think that Willow was the reason for the missing person? Had she accidentally somehow admitted to the crime? “I didn’t!” she insisted while her tone grew more worried. “I really didn’t I mean- I don’t even think I could fit a body in my car or anything!”

Marley noted the rest of Willow’s answers and compared them to the notes on when the man went missing, and just like she thought, none of it added up. The poor man had disappeared on the overnight shift, anyway, so interviewing the day shift seemed pointless. But the captain wanted to be thorough, and so they would be thorough. She etched a little note on the pad and closed it, looking up at Willow. “What? Oh, no-- that’s all the questions. You’re good to go.” Except Willow kept talking, rambling, worrying. If this had been ten minutes ago, Marley would have groaned out loud and walked away. But as it were, she was feeling better, so she stayed put. “You practically confessed to me about Nora, remember? You were all worried I was gonna arrest you or fine you or something.” Marley let out a loud chuckle. “Woah, hey, realx, it’s fine. I know you didn’t have anything to do with it. I’m kidding. You really, really need to learn how to read sarcasm.”

“Oh, really?” Willow managed to say once she’d finally processed that she was free to live another day, and the shackles of the man wouldn’t be clapping onto her wrists anytime soon. “Thank god,” she sighed while her shoulders sagged, still a little confused as to why the questions had left her feeling so heavy. Sure- she did poorly in situations where she thought she might be arrested, but her anxiety didn’t usually leave her this level of tired. “Oh right, Nora.” She hadn’t realized Marley had been talking about a time other than today, and it was true that Willow had been all too eager to ‘confess’ her crime of throwing Nora through a window despite the bugbear being the one to break in. Willow blinked while Marley made an attempt to calm her, somewhat surprised that the woman was trying to help in the first place. Maybe she was kinder in person than she was online. “I just...I kinda forget it exists when I’m worried,” Willow admitted sheepishly, generally fine with sarcasm if she wasn’t thinking about everything that could go wrong. “But um- I hope you find him. You know- the missing person.” She knew just as well as any other native White Crester that far more people tended to go missing than were found. It was practically a death sentence in a town such as this. Just the thought of it made her want to lie down.

[izzielizzie]

NATEWYN LIBRARY AU!!! NATEWYN LIBRARY AU!!!!

I KNEW YOU WERE GONNA ASK THIS. I have chosen “I work in the library and I’m a little concerned for your health bc you never stop studying” enjoy!!!

“She’s there again,” Maeve Rojas informs me as she pulls herself onto the information desk. Maeve, part adopted sister part permanent nuisance, smiles at me as I grunt in response. I know who she’s talking about of course, her older sister Bronwyn. Maeve and I started volunteering at the library around the same time. The Bayview library is the hub for teenagers who need some “life redirection” as my probation officer told me. Maeve’s not here because she was arrested for selling drugs though, that’s my reason. Hers is because she nearly died from leukemia more times than anyone should probably nearly die, and her parents enrolled her here to help her adjust to life.

Because nothing helps you adjust to life more than working in a library.

“Oh come on Nate, don’t ignore me,” Maeve says with a pout.

“I’m not,” I insist as I push her off the desk. She pulls herself back up. I’d be annoyed, but I’m too happy that she has the strength to do that. Two months ago, right when she was weaning off her chemo, she didn’t have the strength to lift up a stack of more than three books.

“Then go do something about my darling sister.”

“She’s your sister, and she’s not breaking any rules. She’s studying.”

“She studies every day, she needs a life.”

I pass Maeve a stack of books. “And you need to shelve these.”

Maeve smirks at me as she stands. “Can’t Macauley. I have a doctor’s appointment.” She waves at me as she leaves, and pauses once to point aggressively at her sister behind her back.

I don’t pay Bronwyn Rojas any mind until I pass her table to shelve some biographies. She’s hunched over a notebook, her dark curls falling like a curtain around her. Her laptop’s open next to her, displaying a textbook.

“Your sister’s worried about you Rojas.”

Bronwyn jumps and turns around. She blinks at me like I’m a mirage, her grey eyes wide and bloodshot behind her dark glasses. “What?” she croaks. She sounds like she hasn’t spoken in months. 

“Your sister,” I repeat, “Is worried about you.” I pull out a chair from under the table and sit across from her. “And I am too.”

Bronwyn narrows her eyes. I’ve known her since second grade, but it’s not like I ever talked to her, even though we live in like, the smallest town ever known to California. “It’s my job to worry about Maeve, not the other way around.” She turns back to her paper, her pen shaking slightly in her hand. She’s been here since we opened, and that was nearly seven hours ago. She must be practically asleep.

“Rojas-”

“Bronwyn,” Bronwyn interrupts.

“Fine, Bronwyn,” I amend. “What do you do other than study?”

“Normal people stuff I guess. You know, things that don’t involve selling drugs.”

Ouch. “Okay then, Miss Normal, why don’t you go do one of those things?”

“I have to study. We’re going to college next year, if you haven’t noticed.”

I noticed. “Maeve tells me you’ve practically already been accepted to Yale.”

Bronwyn glares at me. “Well, Maeve is wrong.”

Bronwyn looks like she’s about to burst into tears. I’ve never seen her like this. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m failing chemistry.”

I’m about to laugh, but maybe that would be mean, even for me. “I bet you’re not failing.”

“Oh, so in your world a d minus isn’t a failing grade?”

Wow. That most definitely is failing. “No, it’s not,” I say.

Bronwyn snorts and mumbles something that I’m pretty sure is along the lines of “that explains a lot.” I can feel my temper flare. “I came over here because your sister was worried about you, and since I care about her I wanted to make sure you’re okay because your sister has been through some shit, okay Rojas? And the last thing she needs to see is her sister killing herself over a couple letters. I didn’t come here to be berated by a girl who’s so lost in her own world she can’t see when someone cares about her. Sorry I bothered. Have fun going to Yale and breaking Maeve’s heart.” I push my chair back as Bronwyn stares at me. As I pass her chair, she reaches out and grabs my wrist. 

“Nate, I’m sorry. I’ve been frustrated lately and I took it out on you. Please don’t be angry.”

I can feel my anger dissipate as I look at Bronwyn’s upturned face. It’s weird how you can know someone your entire life and not realize how pretty they are until a few months before they leave your life forever. “It’s okay.” I say. “But really, I’m worried about your health.”

“My parents are too,” Bronwyn admits. 

“And Maeve,” I add.

“And Maeve,” she agrees.

“Wanna get lunch?” I ask.

Bronwyn looks at me with a frown. “Nate it’s four in the afternoon.”

“Fine, want to get dinner?”

“It’s too early for dinner.”

I sigh. I forgot how frustrating Bronwyn can be. We haven’t been in the same classes since fifth grade. “Fine, would you like to go to Glenn’s diner and share some fries?”

Bronwyn grins. “Sure Nate.”

Two hours later, Bronwyn and I walk through the doors of the library, where we can see Maeve at the information desk, spinning around meditatively in the swivel chair. Bronwyn smiles when she sees her sister. “She’s so adorable.”

“She is,” I agree. 

Bronwyn turns to me. “Thank you for looking out for her. No one asked you to but you did it anyway.”

I shrug. “No problem. She’s great.”

Bronwyn nods in agreement. “I see a lot of you in her.”

“Rojas you hardly know me,” I say. 

Bronwyn gives me a sly smile. “You don’t know that. As you pointed out, I’m here a lot. And you’re probably the most interesting person in this building.” She pauses. “And I like interesting people.” Bronwyn stands on her toes and presses a kiss to my cheek before scurrying away to her sister, leaving me standing as still as a statue, trying to figure out what she just said and why my face feels like it’s on fire. 

[secretpeachtea]

five levels of affection

Scenario: Bakugou doesn’t seem like a very affectionate kind of guy at first glance, so you’re pleasantly surprised by the many ways he shows affection as your relationship with him grows

Genre: F L U F F

Pairing: Reader (Y/N) x Bakugou

A/N: oh shoot this isn’t haikyuu but i’ve really been into bnha and this is literally just something that I pulled out of my “things I would love to see from emotionally constipated men” bag of ideas. i literally love this man and his floofy hair

level 1: sharp elbow nudges

As Aizawa finishes explaining the hero training for today, you feel someone roughly jab their elbow against your side. You let out a small gasp in surprise and get ready to glare at whoever had the audacity to do so. 

As you turn to see who the culprit is, you’re met with striking red orbs that belong to none other than your classmate, Bakugou Katsuki. “Seems like we’re sparring today. Be my partner so I can crush you!”

You let out a scoff and prod your own elbow back at his side. “You couldn’t be a little more nice about asking me?”

Kaminari seems to have witnessed the exchange and decides to sling an arm over your shoulder. “Yeah, man. You can’t just manhandle a pretty lady like (L/N)-chan.”

“No one asked for your fucking input, Dunce Face.” Bakugou lets out a low growl and makes a swipe for the male. Kaminari leaps away from you with a yelp and proceeds to hide behind an unsuspecting Kirishima across the room.

The explosive boy is about to follow Kaminari but stops when you place a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take your offer. I’d take any opportunity to put you in your place with my liquid manipulation quirk, Bakugou-kun.”

“YOU’RE ON, SQUIRT GUN!”

level 2: aggressive head pats

Everyone has their off days in training. Today seems to be that day for you. 

Class 1A was at USJ for some rescue training and you were teamed up with Kirishima and Bakugou. The goal was to rescue dummies from collapsed buildings in the Conflagration Zone as quickly as possible. This fiery zone was absolutely the worst place for you to be in. With no water or any form of liquid for you to manipulate, you were practically running around quirkless. 

You felt utterly useless as you just followed your two teammates who were able to successfully rescue the dummies. All you could do was keep a lookout for any falling debris or potential hazards, but not being able to use your quirk frustrated you to no end. By the end of class, you felt defeated and sulked on the way back to the bus.

“Oi.” Bakugou’s voice takes you out of your daze, but you keep your head low in frustration. He takes a moment to scan your face and think about what to do next. 

Suddenly, you feel something heavy slam onto the top of your head. The sensation is gone for a second before you feel it again, the amount of force almost knocking you off balance. Once you finally look up to him, you can see a subtle softness in his usual scowl. “No one’s got the perfect quirk for every situation, and that includes you. You did fine, stupid.”

Bakugou’s words lift your sullen mood more than you’d like to admit. Perhaps he wasn’t as aggressive as he tries to give off. A smile spreads across your face when you finally realize that the heavy feeling from before was actually from Bakugou’s hand. 

“Was that your attempt at trying to pat my head?”

“AND WHAT OF IT, SQUIRT GUN?!”

level 3: gentle back hugs

“Thank you so much, Recovery Girl!”

“Please try to be a bit more careful next time, dear.”

During a free period, there was a bit of a situation between some of the students and it seemed to have rubbed Bakugou off in the wrong way. He was already in a bad mood at the time, so his emotions seemed to have gotten out of control as he literally blew up his desk with his quirk. 

Pieces of wood flew into the air and with your luck, an entire desk leg slammed right into your body causing you to stumble to the ground. Air was knocked out of your lungs as splinters of wood made small cuts on your arms.

“(L/N)-san!” Midoriya yells from across the room. Mina and Sero help you stand up and check over your wounds. Thankfully, none of your other classmates were injured, so you were the only one who needed some medical attention. 

Mina offers to take you to the infirmary and you agree to do so. As you leave the room, you briefly glance at Bakugou and see guilt replace his angry expression.

Your pink friend had dropped you off and went back to class after you insisted that you were okay on your own. 

You bow your head to the nurse as you exit the school’s infirmary alone. Once you’ve closed the door, you’re surprised to see Bakugou looking down and leaning against the wall next to you with his hands in his pocket. When he realizes that you’ve come out, he gives you a look that’s difficult to read before walking in the direction back to class.

You follow Bakugou quickly until you fall into step with him. “What are you doing here, Bakugou-kun?”

The boy glowers at the floor in thought before mumbling out something incoherent.

You tint your head in confusion. “What was that?”

He mumbles something again a little louder, but you still can’t understand a word he says. “Bakugou-kun, you’re gonna have to speak a bit louder than that.”

Bakugou’s scowl only grows deeper as if he doesn’t want to repeat what he had just said. You know he’s still upset from before, so you don’t want to push him any further. You’re so focused on wondering what could’ve made Bakugou this irritated that you don’t realize that he was lagging slightly behind you.

You’re startled when you feel gentle arms enclose around your shoulders from behind you and you freeze in place. You’re even more shocked when you hear Bakugou’s gruff voice next to your ear. “I said I’m sorry.”

Butterflies fill your stomach as you realize that Bakugou is voluntarily initiating a back hug and showing you a side to him that he would never dare to show anyone else. You lean back into his toned chest and let out a content hum. “It’s okay.”

He slightly tightens his hold and eventually leans his head against your neck. You both stay like this for a minute longer just enjoying each other’s company in the empty hallway away from the rest of the world.

You could get used to this.

level 4: lazy cuddles (+ a shared smile)

If someone had told you that you’d be cuddling Bakugou Katsuki in his dorm room on a rainy Saturday afternoon a couple months back, you wouldn’t have believed them. 

But, here you are, sitting comfortably on Bakugou’s bed while the boy himself was practically engulfing your body with his own, his arms loosely circled around your waist. One of your hands is scrolling through your phone while the other is carding through your boyfriend’s soft blonde locks. Bakugou’s eyes are closed and a comfortable silence fills the room.

It was kind of cute how Bakugou became much more sluggish on rainy days, but you’re not gonna say that out loud unless you wanna risk setting him off. There weren’t any plans for the day and you spend almost every weekend together, so there was no rush to do something. 

An interesting news article about a pro hero catches your attention, so you don’t notice that your hand has stopped its ministrations on Bakugou’s hair. 

Red eyes open blearily. “Why’d you stop?”

You blink twice as you take your attention away from your phone and stare at your boyfriend. There’s a slight frown adorning his face and it takes all of your self control to refrain from pinching his cheeks. 

Opting to give into Bakugou’s subtle pleading eyes, you place your phone on the nightstand and shift your body so that you’re now laying comfortably against his chest. Your hand returns to his hair and your eyes meet his. Based on the glint from him orbs, he’s satisfied.

You and Bakugou smile at each other. The kind of smile that’s only ever shared between the two of you.

level 5: pauses between kisses

You and Bakugou have been out of the dorms frequently since you both have been going to your own respective internships. You try to message each other as often as possible, but your busy schedules don’t really leave much room for free time. It’s been weeks since you’ve properly spent time together, and at this point, you just miss him.

It seems like someone has finally answered your prayers when the two of you are finally able to schedule to have lunch together for an hour today. It’s not as much time as you’d like, but you’ll take anything to be with him.

You both decide to meet up at a fairly secluded park near your internship before eating together. However, any thoughts about your hunger are thrown out the window as soon as your eyes meet. You and Bakugou begin to close the distance between you with hurried steps. 

The first thing you do is throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. Bakugou reciprocates the kiss with fervor and places his warm hands on your waist. 

There’s nothing you want more at the moment, so you’re a bit disappointed when Bakugou pulls away first. 

His face doesn’t move too far away from your own and he simply just stares at you silently. He does this every so often and you’re always surprised by the varying emotions swirling in his eyes. 

His gaze is deep as his eyes shift around each feature of your face before landing on your eyes. After a couple more seconds, a soft smile makes its way onto Bakugou’s lips. 

Your heart flutters and you suddenly feel a bit shy. You’re about to step back when Bakugou’s hands suddenly encircle around you and his arms embrace you tightly. His lips find their way back to yours and it feels like he’s pouring all of his love into the kiss.

You feel like you could stay like this forever, but a loud rumbling noise breaks you out of your trance. It seems like your boyfriend was hungrier than he let on. 

“Not a fucking word, (Y/N).” 

A giggle escapes your lips as you both pull away from each other. “Whatever you say, Katsuki.”

A light shade of pink tints Bakugou’s cheeks. He grabs a hold of your hand and begins to grumble about places to eat. You make the effort to interlock your fingers as you both discuss what to do for the rest of your time together.

[lannisterdaddyissues]

The Last Kingdom High School AU - Chapter One

Hey y’all,,, so I finally decided to make this a thing after like 100 years! Anyone remember this post? It’s a thing now!! All my friends in the discord finally convinced me to share my writings with the world so here it is! This is going to be a multi-chapter fic, I will update it during the summer but I have a job so idk if updates will be regular. Anyway here is chapter one aaah!!

Chapter One

TLK High School AU

Word Count: 4.1k

“Oi! Arseling! Get your sorry arse to the principal’s office, now!” Leofric shouted as he slammed the gymnasium’s phone back onto its receiver. Uhtred’s classmates all turned to stare at him with round eyes, like a bunch of identical creepy owls. Uhtred hated those looks. He’d been getting them a lot in the past two years.

“Thank you for coming to see me, Uhtred,” the principal Odda greeted him, smoothing some papers out on his desk as Uhtred shuffled into his office. A steaming hot coffee mug sat to the side, untouched, and a bagel with a single bite mark in it lay on a napkin near the corner of his desk. “I wanted to talk to you about your behavior lately.” Uhtred blinked slowly but said nothing, leaving the ball in Odda’s court. Odda sighed. “You’ve been starting fights a lot lately in the past few months...the most recent one, three days ago, I believe, you sent my son home with a bloody nose and a black eye.”

“He called me names,” Uhtred said tonelessly, “And he’s an arsehole.” Odda grimaced and sucked air through his teeth. “See, Uhtred, that’s just more of what I’m talking about. You cannot just go around speaking like that to adults. You need to respect your elders. Otherwise, you’ll just keep getting in trouble and getting sent to detention. You know these are put on your permanent record.”

“...Fine.” Odda nodded, as though satisfied, and shuffled his papers. The reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose drooped a little and he pushed them back up towards his face.

“I also wanted to talk about your grades this semester.”

“What about them?” Uhtred stated more than inquired, hair falling over his shoulder as he tilted his head to the side. The old man never said anything of interest to him, just that he needed to stay on track if he wanted to be successful in life and that he had to watch his words in his essays. So what. He scanned the rest of the principal’s office nonchalantly, searching for an item to fixate on so he didn’t have to meet Odda’s eyes.

“They were just fine in your freshman year, perfectly average and acceptable for you to graduate, but halfway through your sophomore year they took a turn for the worse. Last year you failed both your English class and your maths class, barely passing your science class with a C-minus.”

“And what about it?” Uhtred repeated, twiddling his thumbs. His eyes alighted upon the globe in the back of the room on top of Odda’s filing cabinet and he exhaled deeply, wondering if he could get it to spin with his breath alone all the way from across the room. It didn’t move and he felt his mood blacken a bit more for no reason whatsoever.

“See here, Uhtred,” Odda said, leaning forward and turning the paper so he could see it, “you’ve got this red letter here. What letter is this?” Uhtred rolled his eyes.

“An F, sir,” he said, turning the honorific into more of a mocking title.

“Yes, I see, and do you know what happens when you fail your core classes, Uhtred?” There was a pointed gleam in Odda’s eye.

“What, sir?”

“It means you fail. You fail the entire year. And when you fail the entire year, do you know what that means, hmm? Let me tell you. You have to retake all of these classes.” Uhtred shot out of his chair, outraged. “I most certainly do not!” he shouted. “I’m not taking these bullshit courses again! I could pass these in my sleep, this is fucked up!”

“Life isn’t always fair, Uhtred,” Odda gave Uhtred another pointed look for his language and Uhtred sat down again, chastised. He sighed. “I know you‘ve had a tough time these past couple years.” Uhtred scoffed and whipped his head to the side.

That was a bit of an understatement, he thought. Uhtred had never known his birth parents. All he had ever known was his adoptive brother Ragnar’s father, who was also named Ragnar. He had grown up alongside Ragnar, Ragnar’s sister Thyra, and Brida, his best friend, and together the four of them were inseparable. Two years ago, Ragnar’s father had died in an accident, leaving Uhtred and his adoptive family to Kjartan, Ragnar’s uncle. Kjartan was neglectful and ignorant; he mostly left them to their own devices since he couldn’t be brought to care enough about them to hurt them. His son Sven was an abusive arseole whenever he visited, though.

“I don’t want your pity. It’s fine.”

“Since I know there are extenuating circumstances involved, I’ll give you an ultimatum,” Odda said. “I’ve asked a boy in your class to tutor you in all four of your core classes. He’s agreed to do it - don’t give me that look - in exchange for community service hours. You don’t have to pay him a dime.” The chair Uhtred was sitting in squeaked as he uncrossed his legs and recrossed them.

“And who am I tutoring with, sir?” Uhtred mocked, thinking his day couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“His name is Alfred Rex, I believe he’s in your class-”

Ohhhhhhhh, fuck that.

“No!” Uhtred yelled, “I am not working with that pain in my arse!” Odda gave him a pointed look over his reading glasses.

“I believe he’s in your class, and you should be grateful that he’s agreed to do this for so little. He’s the brightest student in the school. Surely you won’t be able to fail any of your classes with his help.” Taking a sip of his coffee, Odda leaned back in his chair, looking satisfied. Uhtred was glad one of them was.

“You must have missed the part where I said he was a pain in my arse,” Uhtred seethed, fingers itching to strangle the principal - and maybe a particular student - to death, “We absolutely hate each other! This will be a fucking disaster! He doesn’t want to teach me shit, he just wants to lord over me like he always has!”

“Now I am just disappointed in you. Alfred wants to help, truly he does! And he’s all you’ve got right now, so you’ll just have to suck it up and deal with it, won’t you?”

“How much time do I have to spend with him anyways?” he spat. Odda met his eyes over his reading glasses and pursed his lips.

“You’ll be tutoring with him four days a week. One day for language arts, one day for maths, one day for science, and one day for history. At the end of the week he’ll give you a report of your progress. Really, you should count yourself lucky that he’s taking so much time out of his busy schedule to tutor you.”

I have to spend four days out of every week with him?!

“That’s not going to work, no way, I can’t spend four days out of every week with him. Give me anybody else and I swear to whatever god you worship that I’ll do it. Not him.”

“Uhtred, I already told you,” Odda’s voice grew firm, “You can take it or leave it. You’re not getting tutoring from anyone but Alfred. This is the last straw.”

“Whatever,” Uhtred hissed, “I’m leaving, and I’m not getting any tutoring if it’s from him! Alfred can screw his perfect self as many times as he likes, see where that gets him.”

“Uhtred! Wait!” Odda called after him. Shutting the door to Odda’s office, Uhtred pulled a cigarette out of his backpack and lit it, ignoring the multiple shouts of his name that followed the trail of smoke he left down the hall.

Uhtred slammed the door to his car shut, seething as he aggressively turned the ignition key and cranked the volume on the radio up high. He plugged his phone into the charger cord and hit call on the pre-existing groupchat he had with his best friends, Finan Agil, Sihtric Elflaedsson - his name was actually Kjartanson, but he legally changed it a few years ago when he moved in with his mom - and Osferth Heahengel. “Hey,” Uhtred said as the line clicked and they all greeted him. Gym class with Coach Leofric had just ended, so they were still in the locker room changing their clothes.

“The hell was that all about earlier?” Finan asked on the other side of the line. “You get sent to the office again? What’d he tell you?” The others voiced similar questions.

“You want to know what he told me? I’m fucking failing my classes. I have to get a tutor. I have to see him four times a week. That’s bullshit!” Uhtred ranted. “I’m going to have to repeat a year if I can’t bring my grades up. This is by far the worst fucking shit that has happened to me, ever.” Feeling his temper worsen, Uhtred made a right turn far more violently than he normally did and grunted as the tires squealed.

“What the hell?!” Sihtric yelled on the other end of the line. “You have to get tutoring?! That sucks!” Uhtred nodded his agreement even though they couldn’t see him.

“Do you know who your tutor is?” asked Osferth. “Maybe you won’t actually mind them. I mean if they said yes, they can’t be that bad, can they?” Uhtred gave a mocking laugh.

“Oh, dear Osferth, why don’t you just go on and ask me who it is?” The line went silent for a moment as all the friends considered how bad the news was going to be, and then Osferth spoke again.

“Uh...who is it?”

“Oh, only Alfred fucking Rex, the hugest prick in our grade.” 

“You’re fucking kidding me!” “You have to tutor with Alfred?!” “But you two hate each other’s guts!” They all exclaimed simultaneously.

That fucking bastard, Uhtred thought, I know he’s just doing this to get one over me. He’s always bossing me around and acting like he owns the entire school. I fucking hate pricks like him.

“That’s just the worst,” Sihtric said sympathetically. The sound of a door opening on the other side of the line roused Uhtred from his bitter thoughts. They must have finished changing and were now heading to their next classes.

“I know, but Odda doesn’t even care,” Uhtred spat, “He says this is all I get! I can’t believe his audacity! You and I both know that Alfred wants to boss me around and that’s that!”

“I don’t know, Uhtred, maybe give him a chance,” Finan said doubtfully, “At least you’ve got a tutor, and Alfred’s the smartest kid in the school. You’ve got an advantage here.”

“Well, whatever, I’m home now so I’ll talk to you guys later,” Uhtred said, pulling the phone away from his ear.

“Wait, you went home?!” Osferth exclaimed. 

“Uhtred, you’re going to get caught. That’ll just be another detention for you. Maybe you should come back.” Uhtred turned the key in his car’s ignition and slid it into his pocket, ignoring Finan’s words.

“Right now, I couldn’t care less about detentions,” Uhtred said. “See you guys later.” Finan protested with a “wait, you bastard—!!”, but Sihtric and Osferth bid him goodbye and he hit the end call button with little remorse before shutting his car door and making his way to the front door.

“I’m home,” Uhtred called out as he shut the door behind him. A chorus of ‘hey’s greeted him and Uhtred left his bag on a chair before walking into the living room. Ragnar - Uhtred’s adoptive older brother - and his childhood-friend-turned-girlfriend Brida were cuddling together on the couch. Some movie Uhtred didn’t recognize was paused on the screen. “Uhtred, what are you doing home so early?” Ragnar frowned at him as he sat up and pushed the blanket off his legs. Uhtred exhaled deeply and plopped on the couch like a deadweight, causing Brida to shove him with her foot.

“Didn’t feel like staying at school,” he muttered. “Left after gym class.” Brida sat up at that and she exchanged a glance with Ragnar, looking concerned.

“Hey, well,” Ragnar began, “Speaking of school, I have something I need to talk to you about.” Uhtred frowned.

Gee, how could this day possibly get any worse? I can’t wait.

“The principal called us a couple days ago and told us that...you’re failing this year, Uhtred,” Ragnar said seriously. Brida nodded alongside him.

“He said you’re going to have to repeat a year if you can’t hack it,” she added. “So Ragnar talked to him and the principal arranged for you to get tutoring with—“

“—With Alfred,” Uhtred interrupted, balling his fists, “Yeah, I already fucking heard.” Ragnar’s eyes widened.

“Oh, fuck,” he said.

“Yeah, oh fuck! I can’t believe you! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I could have said no sooner!” Ragnar shrugged and laid back against the couch, crossing his arms behind his head. “I forgot,” he said honestly, smirking.

“Are you kidding me?! You know how much I hate Alfred! Why are you laughing at this?!”

“I’m not,” he said, “Don’t know what you mean.”

“Ragnar, please, tell me there is another option besides getting tutoring from Alfred of all people,” Uhtred begged.

“Sorry, Uhtred, but there’s no negotiation on this one. You need to get out of this house and away from Kjartan. You can’t do that if you fail your last year of high school. You need to go to college and, well, your principal gave you a stellar opportunity. Besides, you guys have never really spent any time together outside of class. Maybe you could find some common ground and we can finally be free of your constant complaining.” Uhtred dug his nails into his palms.

“How,” he growled, “Could this possibly be a good thing? Stop acting like my dad, Ragnar, you’re only a year older than me. I thought you were on my side about him.”

“Is that what this is about, Uhtred? That you don’t need help?” Ragnar rounded his eyes pleadingly. “Come on, Uhtred, do it for your future. Not because I think you’re going to be some great brilliant fucking Einstein, but you need to get out of here. Don’t be like this. You’re doing it whether you like it or not. I will call Alfred and have him come to our house for tutoring. You can do this on your terms or on ours.” Uhtred growled and reached for his phone, standing up from the couch to head upstairs.

“Give him a chance,” Ragnar said again. “One chance.”

“Fine,” he hissed, “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’m going to hate every fucking minute of this and you’re going to feel extremely guilty whenever you think about it!”

“Where do you think you’re going?! Your first session is at three,” Ragnar called after him. Uhtred just yelled in response and slammed his door shut, the little bells on his door handle jingling.

As he lay on his bed in his room, the door locked, Uhtred took the time to reflect about the day’s events so far.

Alfred Rex...he’s a total fucking prick.

Uhtred had met Alfred in his freshman year of high school. Alfred had gone to a different elementary and middle school than he had, but Winchester High was the only high school in the area. They’d immediately gotten off on the wrong foot and had been bitter enemies ever since. Uhtred thought Alfred was an officious, sickly, annoying pain in his arse and Alfred thought he was a stupid child that needed to be told what to do. Hate at first sight, truly.

Uhtred sighed. His sister Aethelflaed was so much nicer. She was a freshman, so he’d only met her this year, but he had no idea how the two of them were related. Aethelflaed was a social butterfly and tried to include everyone in everything she did, while Alfred was just a complete arseole. Dammit, why was he stuck with him?!

Growling, Uhtred threw his phone at the wall.

3:02 pm. He was past the point of no return. Pushing open the library doors reluctantly, Uhtred poked his head in, scanning the area. A couple of students he recognized were perusing the library’s faculties. Aldhelm Sawyer - an extremely tall brunet who had a bag of wet dicks for a personality - lounged on one of the couches with a science textbook propped on his lap, one leg crossed over the other. A pretty ginger girl whose name he thought was Eadith sat at a table by one of the windows across from a guy with dark hair; Eardwulf was his name, if Uhtred remembered correctly. Aethelflaed, Alfred’s younger sister, was using one of the computers. When he walked in, she turned around and smiled at him and he felt his heart flutter a bit. Something about her had that effect on people. On the other side of the room in the tutoring section, Odda - the principal’s little shit of a son - was giving a freshman tutoring session at one of the whiteboards. Alfred was nowhere in sight so Uhtred headed towards one of the open tables and plopped into a chair, checking his phone.

“You shouldn’t be on your phone if you’re here to learn,” a voice behind him said. Uhtred whipped around, hissing.

“What do you want,” he bit out, before thinking better of it when he recognized the owner of the voice as his tutor, Alfred. Alfred was...how did Uhtred describe him? He was tiny and slender, shorter than Uhtred by about half a foot. The first time they met, Uhtred mistook him for a twelve-year-old, even though they’d both been fourteen. His wispy brown hair fell just below his ears and he had a pair of bright blue eyes that were so intense they always made Uhtred feel uncomfortable, framed by a pair of silver wire lens glasses. In essence, he looked like a nerd, which was another reason why Uhtred hated him. Nerds were annoying.

Uhtred scoffed and pocketed his phone, leering up at Alfred balefully. “Whatever you say, Lord. I’m here for your blessings and guidance, so let’s get this started, shall we?” Alfred sat down and the two of them unpacked their belongings in silence.

“We’re going over English today, as per Odda’s suggestion, so why don’t you show me where you’re at?” Alfred asked, putting his chin in his palm.

“Yeah, go on, teach me stuff...English. I bet you’re fucking great at it.” Uhtred crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in his chair until the front legs were off the ground, hoping to provoke a reaction. He was disappointed; Alfred merely ignored his blatantly disrespectful behavior, instead ducking his head to flip through his English textbook.

“Feel free to disrespect me,” he murmured, “But rest assured that Principal Odda will hear about it, and my reports are extremely thorough. I don’t care what you say to me, but just know that it will reflect badly on you.”

Oh my gods, I fucking hate this guy so much!

“Yes, my Lord, I live only to serve you,” Uhtred snarked, clenching and unclenching his fists under the table. Leaning over, Uhtred pulled his folder out of his backpack and slid a paper out. “We’re reading Of Mice And Men. You might think that’s a bit below your skill set, but here you are.” Alfred snatched the paper from his hand, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t be facetious, Uhtred. Just shut up and let me read this. That’s what I’m here for, as you said.” Never having been one to follow orders, Uhtred opened his mouth to snark again, but Alfred snapped his fingers to grab his attention and glared at him.

“I said shut up. I’m reading,” he repeated, his eyes moving back and forth like the spool of a typewriter. After a couple of minutes, he set the paper flat on the table and bit his lip, looking a bit uncertain of what to do.

“Well, Lord? Does it meet your lofty expectations?” 

“Can you not?” Alfred asked sharply, “And no, I’m sorry to say, it does not. What were you even trying to write? The subject of your analysis seems to jump to and fro. And while you are summarizing the story in your analysis, that’s all you’re doing. Summarizing. You’re not explaining why it’s important or what it means. Here, let me show you mine…”

“‘Bye, nerd,” Uhtred sneered, standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Alfred stood a bit more slowly, organizing all of his supplies into a neat pile before picking them all up and sliding them into his bookbag. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” Alfred inquired, not appearing bothered by the epithet apart from his clenched jaw. Good. “Make sure you incorporate what I told you today into your essay. I don’t want you to get a poor grade. And do keep in mind that I am reporting all of this to Principal Odda.”

Sure, whatever, Assfred! Feel free to slit your throat when you get home today! “...Yeah,” Uhtred said, before standing up and leaving without a word of thanks. Aethelflaed waved at him on his way out and he grinned back at her as he opened the doors.

“Welcome home, Uhtred,” Thyra greeted Uhtred as he stomped inside. The smell of spaghetti assaulted his senses and all of a sudden he felt much calmer than he had been a moment ago. “How was your first tutoring session?”

“Yeah, how was it?” Ragnar called from the living room, where he and Brida were cuddling yet again. The same movie as yesterday was paused on the TV and Uhtred had a feeling they hadn’t actually watched any of it and were just using it as an excuse to cuddle. A bowl of popcorn soaked in butter lay on Brida’s lap and the table was littered with empty beer cans, another in Ragnar’s hand.

“It fucking sucked. Alfred is even more of a bastard than I remember. Feel free to regret your decision completely,” Uhtred sniffed. Ragnar grimaced sympathetically.

“Is he seriously that bad?” he asked, snorting. “All I know about him is from your complaining.”

“He’s a fucking midget, but he tries to talk to me like he’s better than me! I fucking hate that, you know I do!” Uhtred threw his hands up. “He treats me like a stupid child and what’s more, he’s telling Odda everything that happens! Like some kind of probation officer! ‘Don’t disrespect me, Uhtred,’ ‘don’t use your phone when you’re supposed to be learning, Uhtred,’ ‘don’t breathe oxygen, Uhtred!’ He’s so annoying!”

“Sounds like a cunt,” Brida said.

“He is!!”

“Well, I’m sorry Uhtred, but if you want to pass your classes, your best bet is tutoring with him. You’re going to have to suck it up. Maybe you two just got off on the wrong foot,” he suggested, playing peacemaker.

“Not true,” Uhtred declared, “He just sucks at being a person.” He kicked Brida’s feet off the table so he could prop his own up and stole a popcorn kernel from her bowl. She flipped him off. “I’m just going to try to pass my classes this year and as soon as I do I’ll be totally done with him forever. Damn, that’ll be a good time.” Ragnar lifted his beer can in a toast.

“To the cunt who’s helping you pass your classes,” he said, and they echoed his toast as he downed his beer can and tossed it on the table.

“Ragnar, throw that empty beer can in the trash right now, you pig!” Thyra shouted from the kitchen. Ragnar shrugged and lazily kicked it onto the floor. “Ragnar!!” Giving Uhtred a ‘what-can-you-do’ expression, he stood up from the couch with a loud, obnoxious groan, plucking the beer can from the floor before lumbering to the kitchen.

“Hey, is dinner ready yet—”

“No! And stop asking, you animal, it’ll be ready when I say it is.”

“Geez, old woman, I was only asking, don’t hit me!”

Uhtred sat back against the couch and lifted the remote, clicking it until the TV changed to an acceptable channel. As the TV faded into background noise, he lifted his head to the ceiling and thought about what had happened that day.

Well, overall today sucked. I’m failing my classes and I’m getting tutored by Alfred, who’s a privileged arseole and also a complete tool. This whole year is going to be absolute bullshit with him around.

One chance, my arse. This year can’t end soon enough.

Art posts: @lauwrite1225‘s sketches of the high school!Coccham squad, @seaberrycloudberry‘s sketches of high school!Uhtred and Alfred, and @seaberrycloudberry‘s sketches of the characters in high school + sketches of Alfred, Aethelflaed, and Edward!!! THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH. THEY’RE PERFECT. Tagging @bellamehblake, @lonelyislanddaydreamer, @caleb-16charisma-widogast, @ucancallmechlo, @cocchamscrew, @myenglandmylove, @nightskyfangirl, @morganology, @tsukkinami @pokeasleepingsmaug here it is you guys!! I finally posted something!!!

[savethelastdan]

Any more of that sweet sweet Good Morning Call content?

Jane on Ao3 requested "When nao and uehara break up she decides to be with daichi”: 

Like most things that have happened since high school, Nao did not plan the aftermath of breaking up with Uehara.

Her intentions were obvious. Either she'd become Uehara's ideal girl (no, woman), mature and self-confident and totally fine with centering her entire existence around Uehara's often unspoken feelings, which she would also magically be able to understand without any communication necessary; or he would realize how much he loved having her there to make him lunch and beg him to tutor her in math and awkwardly kiss goodnight in the space between their apartments.

Instead, what happens is that twenty times a day, Nao checks their messages in her phone, and there's nothing new waiting for her. When she waits outside his apartment in her patented disguise, he doesn't even look in her direction when he passes by.

It hurts even worse, because Nao knows Uehara doesn't even want Saeko. It means he'd have no one, rather than have her.

One night, she's walking home in the rain and going through all the ways that she's ruined it — why couldn't you just put up with it, why did you have to be selfish, why haven't you gone to beg on your hands and knees for his forgiveness — when a hand grabs her shoulder.

"Yoshikawa Nao, what are you doing out here? You'll catch a cold."

She turns, blinking away raindrops (not tears, she's definitely not crying, nope) that have gathered on her eyelashes. Daichi looks down at her, and even though he's wearing a hooded team sweatshirt instead of a jacket and she's carrying an armful of textbooks instead of a collapsing cake, it feels just like the time before.

She throws herself into Daichi's arms, sobbing. And, just like before, he wastes no time in holding her tight.

—

"How are things with Nanase?" She asks, snuggling deeper into the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

From where he's hanging Nao's textbooks over his drying rack, Daichi gives her a smile (the one he wears just for you, Mitsuishi mutters under his breath and Nao pretends she didn't hear).

"Awkward, honestly. We're trying to stay friends, but that's hard to do when you already know the other person's feelings."

Nao bites her lip, remembering against her will the days after she'd realized Daichi saw her as a woman. The shift had been startling; she'd panicked, pulled away from him, only accepting his comfort when Uehara let her down.  

And now she was reliving the same experience with Natsume; except this time, things with Uehara were even more of a mess.

"I'm sorry, Dai-chan."

"It's alright." He smiles again, and despite her guilt it does its job—making Nao feel warm and safe, like being with Daichi always has. From the days he would help her write her letters to Santa, to pushing her on the swings, to teaching her to put her face in the water during swim class even though she was scared, Daichi has always made her feel safe.  

"Nao." He comes over to sit beside her. For the first time, Nao registers the cup of tea on the table in front of her, when he gently pushes it closer. "I'm sorry for not reaching out to you more last year."

"Ah! Please don't apologize!" She laughs, despite the growing ache in her head. Perhaps he was right, and she's getting ill. "You must have been so busy, right after graduation…And we hang out all the time now, so it's okay!"

Daichi nods slowly, waiting for her to take a sip, before drinking out of a matching mug. After a moment, he speaks again. "I think I needed that time for myself, to be honest. When I confessed to you, I thought that things would remain the same, no matter what your answer was. That I could be by your side in the same way that I'd always been. But it was strange, wasn't it?" His tone holds no bitterness. "When I went to university, it was a good time to find out who Shinozaki Daichi was, just on his own. Without centering it all on what he meant to someone else."

Tea warming her tongue, Nao nods slowly in understanding.

"Because of that year, it was possible for me to be the best friend that I could to you, when we saw each other again. Maybe you need that time, to be that person for Uehara."

Nao glances at his face, out of the corner of her eye. He's not smiling when he says it, making it obvious what he's thinking. Daichi's never liked Uehara, beyond just the typical jealousy; and now, almost two years on with nothing to show for it, all of the defenses that Nao has spent her time crafting feel painfully hollow.

But she knows he's trying to encourage her happiness. She knows she wants to be brave.

Clinking their mugs together, she says with as much cheerfulness as she can muster in this moment, "You are so wise, Dai-chan."

He laughs and ruffles her hair, and Nao tells herself the warm feeling in her stomach is just tea and nothing else.

—

One thing Nao's realized about her relationship with Uehara is just how much time she has on her hands, now that things are over between them.

She gets a new job at a coffee shop to avoid Natsume (and his constant questions about whether Uehara has texted her yet), but it barely helps to fill the hours she has left. With what seems like endless empty weekends yawning before her, she pencils in each of Daichi's games on her calendar. Nao might not understand sports too much, but she has a competitive spirit and can cheer with the best of them.

Even though it's a little uncomfortable to have Nanase sulking a few rows down, she has a good time; the games are fast-paced and exciting. Daichi practically beams when he notices her there, even after it becomes routine.

It feels good, to be looked at like that.

Nao starts to bring him treats from work, as rewards for all of his hard work. They're walking back to the parking lot, Daichi halfway through a box of chocolate covered madeleines, when she realizes that she has an exam on Monday and starts panicking.

Daichi smiles that smile again. "Want some help studying? I took it last semester, it was a cinch."

She smiles (Your knight in shining armor, Marina teases, and Nao shushes her loudly) and ignores the pounding of her heart.

—

"Am I a bad person?" Nao says, before shaking the magic eight ball aggressively. From the couch behind her where she's painting her nails, Ota looks up with a frown.

"Nao, don't think that! You're a great friend."

Nao ignores her, not wanting to explain that the question was originally a lot more detailed in her head (am I a bad person for inviting Dai-chan's team to dinner and taking the chair next to his, and even though I felt bad when I saw Nanase's face I still didn't move?).

My sources say no.

Taking a deep breath, she shakes the toy vigorously. "Will I pass finals?" (Will I pass finals even though while I was studying with Daichi all I could think about was the way he chews on the end of the pencil, and how he's always done that but I never seemed to notice before, and that just made me wonder what else I haven't noticed?)

Most likely.

"That's good, Nao!" Ota cheers, leaning over to see the result. Nao smiles weakly and mumbles, "One more turn…was dating Uehara a mistake?"

Ota goes quiet. Nao doesn't want to turn to look at her face, instead flipping the magic eight ball over. (Was dating Uehara a mistake, because it means I wasted years on someone who wanted me to read their mind, instead of finding someone who was brave enough to tell me what was in their heart? Or was it good because at least I know I tried, so no one can ever say that's why it didn't work between us?)

Better not tell you now.

—

Nao ducks behind the pillar, breathing hard. She pulls the hat on either side of her head down harder, resisting the urge to scream.

Uehara (who won't look at her, talk to her, text her) repeats himself, fist tight against Daichi's collar. "I said, are you dating Yoshikawa?"

Daichi (who walks her home after work, held her when she cried over failing her math exam, took her to a greenhouse and bought her an adorable little cactus just last weekend) stands firm, back against a pillar that's twenty feet away from the one Nao's using to hide. "We're friends, not that it's any of your business."

Uehara says something else, but Nao can't hear him; her heart's pounding so hard, it's painful.

Every muscle in her body is screaming to go over there—but to do what? Push Uehara away? Scream at him for daring to accost the men in her life for being there when he wouldn't? Defend Daichi, who Uehara's always looked at with such disdain, as though Daichi hasn't spent the better part of his life making sure Nao was happy?

Friends. Friends.

It feels wrong to hear Daichi say that, and Nao's rooted to the spot in terror of what that has to mean.

—

"What?"

Scrambling back from the couch, Daichi laughs. It's the laugh he always uses to hide his nerves (that time he broke the potted plant when we were seven and his mom asked what happened, when he gave me a Valentine card for the first time, when he had to give a speech in his history class and he couldn't remember his opening line).

Nao stares back, unfazed. "I said that I like you, Dai-chan."

He stammers, face turning pink. "You're—you don't mean that."

"Yes I do." She recites it, everything she planned in her bathroom mirror last night as she went through the rebuttals he might give. "It's not because I'm lonely without Uehara, or because I'm scared of being alone, or because I like hanging out with you and I've confused that with being in love."

Daichi's hands fold and unfold. He's looking at her like he always does (like Nao's the moon and he dreads the moment when she'll disappear to let morning take her place) and when he speaks, it's not at all what she expected him to say. 

“Did you know Uehara's the only person I've ever hit in anger?"

She blinks once, twice. "Huh?"

He chuckles in embarrassment, one hand sliding against the back of his neck. "I just couldn't stand—knowing that you loved him so much, that you were so brave for him, and he wouldn't be that for you—"

Nao's heart shudders. There's probably something wrong, that even her love confession has been usurped by her ex, but this feels like the kind of thing that he needs to say.

So she waits.

"I thought that if he could just—if he would love you, the way that I would have loved you, then I could deal with it," Daichi blurts; his hand tears through his hair to turn it into a mess. "I could be your friend and be there for you and be happy for you. But Nao, seeing you unhappy and heartbroken and trying so hard, it absolutely breaks me."

Tears fill her eyes. Daichi moves forward on reflex, moving to wipe them away with his thumbs as he cups her face.

"Nao," he breathes. "You deserve the world. You deserve so much."

I don't want the world, she thinks, curling both hands in his sweater. I don't need romantic platitudes or promises of forever or the dream boyfriend. I want to feel safe. "Dai-chan. You said that I needed space. That might change things, and it did. But not for me and Uehara. Dai-chan, please, I love—"

He presses her close.

Nao's lips meet his. And it's not the first time they've ever kissed, but it’s the first time that she feels it's right.

[vincess-princess]

What Is Lost, What Is Found

Behold, my found family!Crue au which I talked about so much :D huge thanks to @polska-tankietka for making this clusterfuck readable <3

Fandom: Motley Crue Characters, pairings: Mick Mars, teenager!Nikki Sixx, teenager!Tommy Lee, teenager!Vince Neil. Eventual Nikki/Vince. Rating: PG-13 as of now, Explicit in the future. Summary: Mick Mars is an owner of a small record shop in downtown LA and a struggling alcoholic approaching his midlife crisis. He’s been through enough to ask for nothing more from life, but life clearly has other plans for him. When three homeless teenagers break into his peaceful, stable life, Mick realises he has some more work to do on this Earth. A/N: Warnings and rating are going to change and add up in the future, please make sure to check them! I will be putting warnings in the beginning of each chapter just in case.

Chapter 1.

Word count: 5842

Trigger warnings: mild violence

There was little that Mick hated more than shoplifters. This “little” included the system, his back, and Kiss fans. A typical example of the latter had just appeared in Mick's shop, all heels and tight jeans, wearing more makeup than a hooker, eyes barely visible underneath a black messy mop of dyed hair that’d been hair-sprayed into a physically impossible shape. He hadn't done anything wrong yet, but Mick gained enough experience over the years to see through misfits like him. And this one was definitely up to no good.

It was usually quiet in his little record shop this time of the day - most people were still at work, with an exception of teenagers skipping school. Mick didn’t have much work to do and watched closely every movement of this little fucker while pretending to be stocking up the shelf nearby. Twenty minutes later his intuition yet again proved itself right. The boy grabbed a record from the farthest shelf and hid it in his oversized jacket. A swift, adroit movement of a professional, one that would go unnoticed by most people. Not by Mick, though.

"Put back what you took from the shelf," Mick said calmly, stepping right in front of the boy and blocking his way to the door. Screaming and shouting didn't work with this kind of people - they were only getting aggressive. Though the gun that Mick held in his hand worked like magic as well.

"Shit," the boy hissed, backed off to the next aisle and tried to rush past Mick to the door, only to be met with a gun pointed at his chest.

"You ain't going anywhere, bastard," Mick grabbed his arm, thin and bony inside the wide sleeve of his jacket, and pushed him to the back door, still holding him at gunpoint – who knows what the little bastard had up his sleeve, both literally and metaphorically. "You're going to stay there until the police arrive, and don't even try to pull something off!"

Of course, the boy tried anyway, attempting to push away the gun and knock it out of Mick's hand. He was desperate, and desperation made him furious but took away his reasoning and common sense. If he had them at all, of course.

Mick’s knee hit him in the stomach, pushing air out of his lungs. The boy gasped and fell to his knees, holding onto his stomach and trying to inhale. Mick didn't wait for him to recover; instead, he dragged him up onto his feet and hauled him to the back room. It had a lock, and Mick could keep the young criminal there until the police arrived.

The little misfit, being now frightened enough to not fight back openly, stumbled on every shelf and every table they passed, and a couple of times deliberately tripped over them and fell down. Mick had no mercy for him and didn’t even let him get up. Instead, he dragged him across the floor on his knees for five or six feet, every time secretly admiring the teenager’s stubbornness. They reached the back room eventually, and Mick pushed the boy inside, earnestly hoping that he wouldn't destroy its already modest furnishings in a fit of rage.

"Enjoy yourself." Mick waved around. The boy recoiled, his eyes widening, and Mick remembered he still had a gun in his hand. He decided to leave it there for effect. "While you can."

The boy followed Mick with his gaze as he left the room and locked the door behind him. Try as he might, Mick kept remembering the boy’s pale face and wide eyes. He hadn’t been able to take a good look at the boy’s features, but he was somehow absolutely sure those eyes were green.

There had been lots of teenage shoplifters that Mick had encountered in his life. A record shop was for them like honey to the bees, or, as Mick liked to think about it, a garbage can to the flies. He knew their methods, and he knew that every single one of them was a liar and a hypocrite to the core. The numerous stories they have told about their little brothers or sisters, or cousins wanting a record on their birthday had long stopped making Mick pity them. If this one started doing the same, he would have already called the police.

He didn’t. He didn't start crying or begging to let him go in a futile attempt to evoke sympathy in Mick. He didn't start coming up with excuses and sob stories. He didn’t try to justify himself. Apart from the quiet "shit" under his breath, he was completely, totally silent.

A customer entered the shop, and Mick dropped the phone he’d been holding in his hand the whole time and rushed to help him, maybe a little more eagerly than he usually would. The customer spent ages trying to decide between Fleetwood Mac or Bee Gees, getting scornful glances from Mick when he wasn’t looking. Mick wasn't a huge fan of such music, keeping it in his shop only because it generated a significant part of the revenue.

When the customer finally left, Mick returned to the register. He grabbed a phone again, looked at it for a couple of seconds, sighed and put it back.

The boy was sitting on the floor in the farthest corner from the couch, hugging his knees and staring into the distance with a detached look on his face. Startled by Mick entering the room, he turned his head to look at him, his eyes barely visible from underneath the mop of black hair, which badly needed a cut. His clothes, though obviously customized in an attempt to look fashionable, were oversized and worn, and clearly not washed in quite a while. The kid was probably white trash from the slums or even homeless, Mick realized.

"Give me back the record and I'll let you go," Mick said, approaching him carefully. He left the gun in the main room and now felt especially vulnerable, considering that the boy even at the tender age of fifteen or sixteen was already almost as tall as him and probably just as strong.

The boy blinked in surprise, squinting at Mick with suspicion. Mick stood there, waiting for him to make up his mind. He wasn't going to give him a second chance, one unexpected moment of pity was more than enough.  "Hurry up, or I'll change my mind."

The boy rose to his feet slowly, took a couple of steps towards Mick while keeping an eye on him all that time. Mick stood still, feeling like a tamer in a cage with a feral wolfling.

Then the teenager pulled out the record (Deep Purple’s "Fireball", a good choice), shoved it into Mick's hands and rushed past him to the door. A moment later Mick heard the front door slam.

He shambled back to the main room, clutching the record that was still warm from the shoplifter's hands. He felt old, old and stupid. Now every goddamn teenager in the area would think his shop is safe to steal from, and he wouldn't be able to scare all of them off even with a gun.

He didn't regret it, though. Not in the slightest.

***

A couple of days later, when Mick had already forgotten about the black-haired misfit, another shoplifter showed up. The boy, a blond Californian surfer type who Mick took for a girl at first, was dressed in all white and looked like an average middle-class kid pretending to be a rock star. It almost tricked Mick, and he barely managed to catch the moment when the boy hid a record in his bag.

"Put it back, little shit!" Mick exclaimed, rushing out from behind the register to head the shoplifter off before he reached the door (his back would later remind him of how careless this movement was). It took the boy aback, and he lingered for a second or two, missing the chance to escape.

“Put the record back,” Mick repeated slowly, now blocking his way out. The blondie's movements were far less adroit than those of a previous shoplifter, his reactions more impulsive. Not completely without experience, but definitely not as skillful as the Kiss fan. Giving his neat appearance and decent clothes, he was probably just another kid from suburbs desperately wanting to be a bad boy and getting in with the wrong people. A stupid mistake that could destroy his entire life. Mick didn’t want to be responsible for it.

The boy didn't take the chance to avoid trouble. Instead, he pushed past Mick, trying to knock him over. Trying – that was it. Mick's back problems still weren’t severe enough to not let him handle a goddamn teenager.

In response, the kid got a knee in the stomach, strong just enough to make him stagger back and give Mick an opportunity to restrain him. Mick didn’t want to actually harm the kid, just to show him who calls the shots here. It didn’t work out - the boy promptly, as though instinctively, covered his stomach with his hands. He dropped his bag right onto the floor, and Mick was sure he heard his stolen record crack inside of it. If it had broken, he would make the fucker pay double for it.

Although the kick didn’t really harm the kid, it managed to stun him enough so that he couldn’t fight back for a second or two. Mick, slightly worried that he underestimated his own strength, went on to grab a fistful of blond hair. It couldn’t cause any real damage but was painful enough to stop any further attempts to fight back.

In theory.

The second the boy felt the grip on his hair he went completely insane. He tried to punch Mick in the guts, twisting so much in his grip a good chunk of his hair remained in Mick's hand. He kicked and punched the air blindly, not even aiming at Mick. Like an animal that got into a trap and was trying to get out, he was so blinded by panic he didn't realize he just hurt himself more and more. All of this Mick would think over later while looking at a patch of blond hair tangled between his fingers. As for now, his natural reaction was to stop this self-destructive panic as fast as possible.

A loud slap rang in Mick's ears, his hand slowly started growing red. The shoplifter froze, looking at him wide-eyed, biting his lower lip so hard blood showed up.

Shame washed over Mick. Congratulations, he thought grimly, you scared a child to death.

"Whatcha looking at? I'm not gonna fucking bite your head off." Mick let go of the boy's hair and grabbed his shoulder instead. He expected the same reaction, but the boy only flinched in response, letting Mick lead him to the back room without any resistance.

"Let's go to the back room and wait for the police there, shall we?" Mick didn't feel like threats would work now, although phrasing it as a question was wrong as well. He led the shoplifter to the back room carefully, holding his shoulder like it was made of glass. He knew he’d better hold it tighter, but he’d been rough enough today already. The boy followed him silently to the back room, his face expressionless.

When Mick gently pushed him into the room and turned around to leave, the blond spoke.

"Is calling the police really that necessary?"

Good question. Mick liked the police no more than he liked shoplifters, but the former at least weren't actively trying to rob him of his hard-earned money. Passively, yes, they also did, but not paying taxes would get Mick in trouble he absolutely didn’t need at that point.

"What else am I supposed to do with a criminal like you?" he grumbled but stopped in the doorway. He could have been fooled by the boy’s perfectly mastered calm tone, by his relaxed expression, if not for the eyes, wide, terrified eyes of a child thinking he would go straight to jail for snitching a fucking record.

"A lot of things." the blond raised his eyebrow and looked Mick right in the eyes. And smiled, and damn, did he have a stunning smile. "In which the police absolutely doesn't need to be involved."

"Cut it and tell me what you want."

"No." The boy tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. "The real question is: what do you want?"

This was the last straw. Mick stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The boy was no good in shoplifting, but he surely was a professional in acting, and even thinking where he could have learned it – and even more, why would he have to use it, - made Mick sick to his stomach. He wasn't a fool. He also wasn't what this kid imagined him to be. How old the boy was, fifteen, sixteen?

He looked at the phone and barely suppressed the urge to throw it into the wall. Mick was repulsed by the mere thought of calling the police and turning in the child with such fear in his eyes and such a skill of hiding it. He groaned and sank into the chair, squeezing his head with his hands. What the fuck was going on with him that he couldn't even get a goddamn shoplifter rightfully arrested?

Mick’s mouth was dry, and he thought of making a cup of coffee, but the coffee machine was in the back room. Thank god he always kept a whiskey bottle in the counter for, hm, emergencies.

Half an hour later he opened the door after scratching around the lock with a key for a good minute. The boy was lying on the sofa with his shoes on, his back turned to the door. When Mick appeared in the doorway, he jumped up, cast a quick look over him and backed off to the farthest corner of the room.

Mick took a few unsteady steps towards him and stretched out his hand with the boy’s bag in it, which had been lying on the floor in the middle of the store the whole time.

"Check if the record is broken."

The boy looked over him with suspicion, darted towards him, wrenched the bag from his hands and jumped back out of Mick’s reach. Once in the safe zone, he pulled out the record and quickly examined it.

"Er... no."

"You're lucky then. Give it back and get the fuck out of my store."

The boy blinked in confusion, eyed him for a few moments to make sure he wasn’t joking, then shoved the record into his hands and dashed out of the room.

Mick looked down at the record in his hand. It was “Fireball”.

***

The third one was even less experienced than the second, and Mick began to wonder why would the kids be so desperate to get the record that they had sent in this absolutely hopeless case.

Unlike with the blond, the boy’s appearance only made the situation worse for him. He wore jeans with straight-up holes on the knees, which Mick would probably take for a new fashion trend if not for his sneakers that were so badly torn the kid would do better without them. His was t-shirt so dirty the original picture on it was almost impossible to make out. More than that, the kid was so stick-thin he looked like hadn't eaten in weeks, and his black hair, as though dyed sloppily in a kitchen sink, badly needed a haircut. Typical white trash, Mick would conclude, throw him out of the store the second he noticed even a slight misbehavior, and carry on with his life. Would – a week ago.

Now he examined him from behind the newspaper he was pretending to be reading and felt nothing but pity. The kid was scared shitless and didn’t even try to hide it, a mix of shame, guilt, and fear on his face. He probably was in it for the first time, or maybe he was just not quite right in the head, because even the least talented of shoplifters would have enough common sense to understand that getting on all fours and trying to crawl to the exit behind the aisle was the worst possible way of getting away with stealing. Mick even felt sorry for the boy. What were his parents thinking, letting this literal kid roam the streets and get into trouble all alone?

I should give him some food, a stray thought flashed through his mind. Mick banished it mere moments later, but it didn’t do away - just slithered to the back of his mind and holed up there. No mercy, Mick reminded himself sternly. No. Zero. None.

He took a deep breath and stepped in front of the boy. The kid froze mid-movement and went so pale Mick thought he was going to faint.

"What are you doing, kiddo? Don't you know shoplifting is a crime?" Mick barely managed to keep his voice at least somewhat hostile. He tried to evoke anger inside of himself and failed miserably. There were only curiosity and a little bit of… pity? Okay, maybe not a little bit. Whatever.

The kid as though swallowed his tongue. He only stared at him from the floor with dismay written all over his face, holding onto the record like a drowning man holds onto a lifebuoy.

"I do," the kid finally mumbled so quietly Mick barely made out the words. And then it was like a levee broke. "I'm so sorry, really - sorry, I didn't want to do that, I just wanted to show the guys I'm no worse than them, are you gonna call the police? Please don't call the police, they will send me back to... to... please, I can give you back the record, I can even pay for it - well, not the full price, but I have two dollars, and-"

"Enough!" The more the boy talked the louder he became, so Mick had to raise his voice. It came out more aggressive than he wanted, and seeing the boy flinching, his eyes filled with hopelessness, made Mick sick in the stomach. "Get up."

The boy sprung to his feet and turned out to be a full head taller than Mick. He weighed probably the same, if not less. When was the last time he ate?

"Is that your first time shoplifting?"

"Uh... is it so obvious?" The boy flushed in embarrassment.

"Absolutely.” Mick found himself suppressing a smile. There was something in the boy so energetic, so lively, as though it lighted up everything around him, not subdued even by the extreme distress he was in. “Did 'the guys' send you here?"

"No!” the kid shook his head furiously. “No, they actually tried to talk me out of it, especially Nikki, but I just wanted to show that I’m not a burden, that I can do something as well, and not just be a distraction while they do the job..." the boy fell silent, his eyes widening anxiously. It probably dawned on him that he had said too much, although he could just as well not say anything and Mick would still understand it through his facial expressions alone.

"And Nikki and another one - the black-haired, right? - usually do the lifting?"

"No, Nikki's the black-haired one. Wait, how did you know?.."

Mick pointed at the record that the boy was still clutching in his hands, fingers gripping the cover so tightly his knuckles were white. "When three kids try to steal the same album with just a few days in between, you begin to suspect they're connected in some way."

"Oh! We haven’t thought about it… we should’ve waited longer, huh?"

"You shouldn't have come at all. I’ve been running this shop for five years and no goddamn shoplifter ever managed to steal something from here yet. You three are no exception."

"Yeah, probably." The boy’s shoulders drooped. "We should’ve backed off after Nikki got caught, if he hadn’t made it then I and Vinnie had no chance at all. You're going to turn me in, right?"

Mick opened his mouth to utter a confident “yes” – and closed it. He wanted to do it. He really did. These three little bastards couldn’t even learn from their mistakes. Not to mention their absolute lack of basic fucking human decency, because when someone lets you off after you tried to steal from him, you better appreciate it and never come back. He should turn this last one in to teach them a lesson.

Then he imagined the kid in jail. He wouldn't survive there, not with his open face and naïve eyes. The black-haired one would blend in easily, the blond would probably find a way around too, but not this one. Not this literal child.

"Tell me why you wanted to do that."

"What for?" the boy mumbled, nervously tapping out a pretty consistent rhythm on the record cover. "I'll have to tell the police anyway. You can ask them afterward."

"I won't." Mick’s guts twisted in his stomach. He took a deep breath and decided to go through with it. “I want to know the reason. Be honest, and I won’t turn you in."

”What?” The boy looked up at him with disbelief and gleams of hope in his eyes. All the doubts Mick had immediately vanished. He couldn’t betray that faint hope, those first glimpses of trust. "Are you… for real?"

"For real."

The boy eyed him up with suspicion for a few more seconds, just like the black-haired one did. But then – then he smiled. Tentatively at first, with only the corners of his mouth, then, seeing that Mick wasn't going to burst into evil laughter, more confidently.

That’s when Mick realized he found the right way.

"Alright, kiddo. What's your name?"

"Tommy."

"Nice to meet you, Tommy. Well, it could’ve happened under, hm, better circumstances. Still. I'm Mick Mars." Mick stretched out his hand. He looked at it with confusion for a moment, then hurried to shake it with force Mick didn’t expect those noodle arms to have.

"Mick Mars? Is that your real name?"

"It’s been for a few years."

"Wait, you changed it? That's so cool! Just like Nikki! Well, it’s not his legal name yet, but he says he will change it once he’s twenty-one. I'd love to change my name too! But I really like my own as well, and I think maybe I'll just change my second name instead. I like Tommy Lee better than Tommy Bass. Sounds more rock n' roll. Despite, y’know, the bass being a part of rock n’ roll-"

"Speaking about rock n' roll," Mick interrupted Tommy just as he was going to go into another enthusiastic speech. The boy could probably talk for hours on end if given the chance. "I guess you all are huge fans of Deep Purple."

"Yeah, it's probably not hard to guess," the boy looked slightly abashed. "Nikki has this portable record player, he stole it... uh... well, he has that player and we can listen to music on it, and we wanted to get the record and listen to it, then sell it."

"Makes sense. Why would you sell it though?"

"We were kicked out of our last room and haven't found a new one yet."

"So you have nowhere to keep it.” Mick concluded, an icky feeling rising up in his chest. He could see where he was going with his next question and he didn’t like it at all. “And... where do you sleep?"

"Wherever we can." Tommy shrugged. "Sometimes Vince's boyfriend agrees to put me and Nikki up, but he’d rather, y’know, spend some time with Vince instead so it doesn’t happen so often. Sometimes club owners let us spend the night inside in exchange for some work done. Sometimes we sleep outdoors."

The fact that the blondie had a boyfriend surprised Mick way less than it probably should have: boys who look like girls usually behave like them as well. Tommy’s nonchalant “sometimes we sleep outdoors” was what amplified that icky feeling in his stomach tenfold. What did the lives of these kids look like that roving around the city, from one shitty apartment to another, never knowing where they would end up next night was really no big deal for them?

A wave of anger washed over Mick. No child should know homelessness, should be left to fend for themselves like that. Where were their goddamn parents, those people who should have cared for them? They had been given a chance to bring a human, a living, breathing, thinking human out in the world, and they passed up this chance knowingly and willingly?

Mick had been deprived of that chance, but oh how he wished he hadn’t.

He took a few deep breaths, trying hard not to let fury and bitterness raging inside of him leak through his facade of mild curiosity. After all, he didn’t want to scare the kid off.

"And what are you gonna do when it gets colder?"

"I dunno, it’s only been a couple of months for me." Tommy shook his head. "Nikki says he knows some places, he's much more experienced than me. He says he’s been living out in the streets his whole life."

"He does look like he has," Mick murmured. "And how have you ended up out there?"

“I?” The boy suddenly became very interested in the floor under his own feet. "I… don't really want to talk about that," he said, his expression unexpectedly stern, his voice thick. Mick definitely had just entered a danger zone.

"Alright, alright. I hope there wasn't any crime involved?"

"What? Oh... well, n-no..." Tommy mumbled absolutely unconvincingly. Something wasn’t right there.

"There was, right?"

"No! I mean... I did nothing wrong. They might think I did. I know I didn't. I was just trying to escape."

"Escape what?"

"The or-“ The kid barely managed to stop at the last moment, “-the place. I swear I only did that because It was so goddamn awful. Everyone was so mean. I couldn't handle it anymore."

"Couldn’t handle what, the jail?" Mick began to feel he could do well as a police interrogator. The boy had almost let it slip already.

"No! I said I did no crime."

"Okay, okay. And what, are “they” searching for you now?"

"I dunno. I hope they don't. The fewer of us hungry orphans - the better...” Tommy’s eyes went wide, his hand jerked up to his face in an unconscious attempt to cover his mouth. “Oh shit. I said it, yeah? Fuck. I said it." He groaned, burying his face in his palms. "Are you gonna bring me back? Tell the police?"

"I told ya, kid.” Mick sighed. So this was why the boy was so afraid of being handed to the police - he didn’t want to go back to the orphanage. “Be honest and no police will be involved. And I keep my promises."

The kid only sniffed in response but relaxed a little bit. Mick was never good with children, even with his own – in fact, they were more often than not intimidated by him. With Tommy it felt… different. He wasn’t scared of Mick himself, even now, when his fate was in Mick’s hands. He was only scared of having to go back.

It was new to Mick. And he liked the feeling.

"Okay, nevermind,” Mick said in the most casual way possible and without missing a bit changed the topic. “When did you last eat?"

Tommy looked up at Mick and frowned, but quickly figured out what’s what and dropped the topic as well. He wasn’t nearly as stupid as Mick had considered him to be at first. Too talkative, yes, a bit naïve as well, but definitely not stupid.

"Um... yesterday? Why you asking?"

"You must be hungry. I've got some snacks in the back room.” Mick said slowly, every word dragging in his throat.

"Oh." Tommy fell silent for a moment, not daring to ask the question. "You mean, I can... take them?"

"Christ, kid," Mick rolled his eyes. "Why d’you think I'm telling you that?"

"So I can?"

"Yes.” Mick barely managed to hold his laughter. “You can. Follow me, I’ll pack some up for you."

Tommy remained still, staring at him with disbelief. "That's really not necessary, Mr. Mars..."

"Just Mick. Ain't no misters here."

"Oh. Okay. That's really not necessary, M- Mick. You've already been too kind to me."

"Hush." The boy's blabbering surely was entertaining, but only to a certain extent, and Tommy had long ago overstepped it. Besides, the conversation had definitely been no easy ride.

Surprisingly, he did shut his mouth and followed Mick to the back room. Very careless of him, Mick thought grimly, hadn’t his friends told him where they’d been locked up? The boy was too trustful for his own good, a positive but absolutely inappropriate trait for kids like him. It was a miracle he hadn’t gotten into some big trouble yet.

Then Mick realized he himself was that very trouble he had just thought of and couldn’t help chuckling.

Mick went through the cupboards in the room, grabbing everything remotely edible. He needed to store more snacks for the next time. If there would be the next time, an unpleasant voice in his head reminded him.

Which Mick had to find out right there and then.

"Do you work?" he asked, handing Tommy a bag of snacks. It was mostly stuff like cookies and chips, but still better than nothing.

"Yeah, if I can find some. People usually don't really wanna hire someone like me. I guess I gotta have a haircut."

"Definitely," Mick murmured. The boy’s thick curls looked like they hadn’t seen scissors for a year or more. Mick breathed in and went for it. "You know, I run this shop all by myself and would certainly do with some assistance. Also no haircut requirements. What do you think of that?"

"Do you suggest… that I work here?" Tommy almost tripped over the couch, looking at Mick as though he offered him to become an heir to a multimillion fortune. "Like, for money?"

"No, for your CV." Mick rolled his eyes. "For money, of course. Just some chores, like cleaning the floor, stocking the shelves. I'm getting a bit old to handle all that. I can put on some records if you'd like as well."

"But you don't look old..."

"It's only on the outside. So, do you agree?"

"Do I... oh my god. Of course. Of course, I agree!" Tommy almost jumped up in the air, waving the bag around so enthusiastically Mick heard the snacks in it crunch. "Working in a record shop! I'll get to listen to all the music I want! And get money for it! Actual money! The guys won’t believe that!" Seeing Mick wince, Tommy abruptly stopped. Mick spoke before he could launch into a series of apologies.

"They can come too, by the way. Unless Nikki doesn't try to steal something, of course."

"He won’t, not after his failure. I'm not sure they'll agree, but I’ll definitely come! Tomorrow?"

"A couple of days a week will do. Which ones are up to you."

"Oh, so I can come twice a week? No more than that?”

“Well- oh, shit,” Mick’s spine chose the most inconvenient moment to remind him that he couldn’t afford to stand for so long. Concern lit up in Tommy’s eyes, but, thank god, he said nothing. “You can come any day, it’s just that there won’t be much work for you to do.”

“But I can just come and listen to records?”

“Yes, you can come and listen to records. Just don’t bring your whole gang or what kids like you have. Just you and your two, hm, friends.”

“Okay!” Tommy nodded fiercely. “Okay, I got it. Sorry for so many questions. And… thank you, Mr- Mick, thank you so much. So, so much. I can't believe... I..."

This time one look from Mick was enough to make the boy shut up. He was making progress, Mick thought with grim amusement.

"Quit that, kid. One 'thank you' is enough. Now go. Your buddies – Nikki and Vince, right? - are probably worried."

"Yeah, they probably are," Tommy nodded and finally turned towards the exit, walking slowly, his gaze still fixed on Mick. When he almost reached the door, he stopped, put the bag on the floor, ran back to Mick and wrapped his arms around him. It lasted barely a second, and then, just as fast, he dashed back to the door and disappeared behind it with a loud slam.

Mick didn’t move for a little while, still feeling the warmth of those thin arms around him. If not for the empty cardboards and the record lying on the couch in the back room (Mick hadn’t even noticed Tommy put it there) he wouldn’t believe that everything that just happened wasn’t some kind of a fever dream. Or an alcohol dream. Mick glanced at the bottle of whiskey. No, it was almost full. Couldn’t have been alcohol then.

Mick grabbed a chair and sank into it with a sigh of relief, letting his poor back rest against the soft cushion. “Fireball” was lying on the couch, black cover against bleak orange upholstery, bright purple against black, too bright, too contrasting. Mick rubbed his eyes until he started seeing colorful circles, and closed them, waiting for the black to engulf him.

It didn’t. Instead, he kept seeing Tommy’s face in front of his, that face of thousands emotions that were switching with the speed of light, from scared to desperate to sad to hopeful to happy. Another face popped up, blond curls framing pretty, girlish features. Vince, right? Vinnie, Tommy called him. It suited him. And Nikki, defiant, bristling, silent misfit. Tommy, Nikki, Vinnie. The day, the night and the moon. Wait, what the fuck was that poetic bullshit?

Mick forced himself out of the chair, shambled to the door, put the “Closed” sign on it and returned to the back room. While making himself a cup of the strongest coffee he ever had, he tried to comprehend everything that had happened over the last few days. Three shoplifters from the same gang tried to steal the same record from his shop over just a couple of days, and how did Mick react? Invited them to work there. Amazing. Brilliant. Groundbreaking.

Mick grabbed his coffee and downed it a few huge gulps. If someone had told him all that a week ago, he would have laughed them in the face. Now he didn't feel like laughing at all.

What had he gotten himself into?

[sennokami]

♛ (here u go u goblin)

Soul Mates AU - accepting !!

Word count: 1944Summary: Uchiha Madara is a poor kid with a full ride to one of the most prestigious schools in Tokyo. Hashirama is already there. (In which reincarnated soul mates remember their past lives the first time they touch.)

The first time Madara set foot in Azabu, home of the very rich and very upper-class, was also his first day of school. Oujo Senior Private High School lived up to its pretentious name; the campus was a massive white steel-glass complex that he spotted before he even got off the train and had a long brick wall that separated it from the rest of the district. 

What for, he wondered. To keep the slightly less rich out? He already felt out of place here – if it weren’t for his pressed uniform, he probably would’ve been arrested three streets earlier. He spotted other students in the same white-and-blue uniform walking towards the entrance. Unlike him, they walked like they belonged here.

Madara had been ecstatic when he got this scholarship. Now, he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

The interior of Oujo was as grand as its exterior. He walked through the bright corridors in a daze, his shoes squeaking on the million dollar tiles, until he found his classroom. 1-A. It was half full already, students clumped around the room in small groups as they chatted, waiting for class to start. Several eyes turned to him when he entered the room and Madara immediately got a sense of his situation.

This school was an institution for the children of the ultra-rich. All of them had probably gone to Oujo Private Primary before and thus knew each other for years. Madara, on the other hand, was a new face with a last name no one recognized.

He’d gone to schools with rigid hierarchies before. It’d never ended well.

Madara found a seat that was secluded from everyone else. He probably should be going around the room to introduce himself and feel out these waters… but he didn’t want to. He didn’t care to rub shoulders with these spoiled brats. He was here to learn.

More kids came in. The room steadily rose in volume but no one approached him. He was fine with that. Ten minutes passed before a bell rang and everyone shuffled to their seats. Except for one guy. He stood in front of the (pretentious) smart board like he was getting ready for a martial reveille. His back was straight, his uniform was crisp, and he was very, very good-looking. Madara disliked him immediately.

“Good morning everyone!” the guy said. “I’m happy to welcome everyone back to Oujo. Our class composition hasn’t actually changed that much, which is great, and I heard our homeroom teacher is going to be Bashira-sensei. So we’re lucky! Ahh, I just wanted to say some things before class started –”

“Ne, Senju-san, sit down! You’re not even the class rep anymore!” one of the students called out. There was laughter, but it was good-natured.

“Don’t worry, we’ll elect you again this year!”

“Haah, you don’t need to do that,” the guy – Hashirama – said. He rubbed the back of his neck, grinning. Even his smile was good-looking. Madara really didn’t like him. “I’m just very glad we’re all back together again. Things haven’t been the same since Hyuuga-san left last year.”

Jeez. How sickening. It seemed like everyone in the class knew each other and Madara was the lone man out. No one called on him and he didn’t stand up – thi was fine. He could fly under the radar. After Senju was done talking, their teacher – Bashira-sensei – came in. She was a tall, broad woman with a wide, perfect smile, and her voice swelled to fill the room.

“We have a new student this year, everyone! I want you all to give Uchiha-kun a warm welcome. Will you please introduce yourself to the class?”

Madara sighed inwardly. There it was. The thing he’d been dreading this whole time. He got up and trudged to the front of the classroom so everyone could gawk at him to their satisfaction.

“My name is Uchiha Madara,” he said blandly. He had it rehearsed now. “I’m sixteen years old. I’m from Deimon High School, I transferred here on a scholarship. Please take care of me.”

Look over the room. Bow. Done. Sit down. That’d been his plan, until someone raised their arm.

Tch! Who the hell do you think you are…? Madara glared at the culprit. Senju. He’d known he had good reason for disliking him.

“Yes, Senju-kun?”

“I think it’s very impressive you got a scholarship, Uchiha-san!” Senju immediately said. “Please don’t be worried, we would all like to be your friend.”

Madara almost saw the flowers shooting out of his ass. He blinked dully and grunted acknowledgement. “Thanks.” Glancing at Bashira-sensei, he went back to his seat.

Thirty minutes into class, a little scrap of paper flipped onto his desk. Madara stopped halfway through the math problem he was working on. He looked up to see if the sender was looking at him, but everyone looked like they were working on the problems.

Curious despite himself, he unfolded the note under his desk.

Hey, Uchiha-san! Would you like to eat together during our lunch period? I know first days can be tough :^) - Senju Hashirama

What the hell? Who did this guy think he was? Madara had half a mind to tear the note up and throw it at him two seats over, but he had better things to do. He shoved the note into his pocket and went back to his worksheet.

Ten minutes later, another note flipped onto his desk. He looked up faster this time and caught sight of Hashirama. He grinned at him and gave him a thumb’s up. Madara rolled his eyes and opened the note.

You don’t have to write back anything, we can eat together, okay? OwO

If he got another fucking note, he was going to find Senju after school and shove them in his mouth. Madara put this one in his pocket too and went back to his work.

He avoided Hashirama in between the class breaks. He wasn’t interested in whatever aggressive kind of friendship he was offering, especially if it was because he felt, like, pity for him or something. Madara didn’t care. He wasn’t going to be a do-gooder’s charity project.

When come lunch period, however, he was cornered in the hallway. Madara had been counting on Senju buying his food like everyone else, but he had a bento.

“There you are, Uchiha-san!” he gushed. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

Godammit, leave me alone…

“Are you eating on the roof? Great, I’ll join you!”

Somehow, Madara ended up with a tag-along that dogged his heels all the way up the four flights of stairs to the roof. He avoided the elevators pointedly despite Senju’s repeated overtures and by the time they found the roof access, Senju was puffing softly.

“Wow, Uchiha-san,” Senju huffed, “you’re pretty fit, huh? You’re not even breathing hard!”

“I exercise,” he replied shortly. He sat down on the metal stairs and unpacked i bento. If he ate quickly, maybe he could get the slip on him –

“It’s a nice day today, you know!” Senju said as he parked his ass right next to him. “I think it’s gonna be a great – oh!”

His hand knocked into Madara’s hand right as he was opening his thermos. Warm tea immediately spilled all over him. It wasn’t hot enough to hurt but his uniform, once pristine and snowy-white, had a long streak of pale brown down his chest.

Dammit, Hashirama, how can you be so strong and this clumsy?

Madara blinked. Somewhere inside him, something old and big and very scary woke up.

Hashirama made a wheezing noise. Madara gurgled until he found his voice.

“You…” he said slowly. The words in his mouth felt strange to him now. Familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, a part of him that was very old remembering something much different. “Hashirama, you…?”

Hashirama looked at him. His handsome face was very pale and his eyes were very wide. Madara saw himself reflected in them and he was already a little bit in love.

“Ma… da… ra?” Hashirama said slowly, like he was saying a new word for the first time in his life. “Did you just…?”

“I felt that,” Madara confirmed. An old, buried instinct compelled him to put his hand on Hashirama’s cheek. It was an intensely intimate gesture beyond the scope of his sixteen years. He blushed as soon as he did it. “I’m here. You’re here.”

Sitting on this cold metal staircase, cold tea leaking into his pants, Madara remembered a time when skyscrapers didn’t exist and the phone in his bag could’ve been called magic. There were so many years in there that his head spun trying to comprehend it all, but he knew one thing very well. To-the-marrow-of-his-bones well.

He and Hashirama were always meant to do this.

Hashirama reached up and put his hand over his. The sixteen year old in Madara melted. The ageless killer just smiled knowingly.

“We found each other,” Hashirama breathed. His eyes were a rich brown that carried an inner light in them. He was young but big in way that said he’d keep on growing. He was everything that Madara recognized in this lifetime and the next.

“We did,” Madara sighed, curling his fingers against his skin. He didn’t know which one of them moved first, him or Hashirama, but they were kissing, their lunches forgotten. They had to pause to move them so they didn’t spill – and they both laughed at the mundanity of it all – before they went back to touching each other, fascinated and greedy. They only resurfaced when Hashirama’s digital watch beeped to signal the last ten minutes of lunch period.

“Let’s ditch,” Madara immediately said.

“We shouldn’t,” Hashirama replied as he began to eat quickly. “It’s our first day here! It wouldn’t look good, and you’re a scholarship student, so you can’t –”

“We can lie about it, who cares?” Madara laughed. “I’m not going to be able to concentrate now that I know you’re here.”

Math problems? Chemistry? Japanese? Who cared? What did it matter when he’d found his soul mate?

“There’s only four more periods left,” Hashirama insisted. “And then… maybe…” he grinned a little, not entirely sly but not fully innocent. “You could come over. I’ve had sleepovers before. You can take my spare uniform too since I messed up yours.”

“Oh – oh, yeah.” Madara glanced down at his stained jacket. He couldn’t care less about it. Hashirama buzzed in his senses like a drug. All he wanted to do was breathe him in and touch him, remember him, to feel him until he couldn’t tell their bodies apart anymore.

That’s not normal, whispered the young part of him. The older pieces from a forgotten age just laughed. What was the point of loving if you didn’t do it madly?

“We can go to class,” Madara murmured. He packed up his bento, appetite forgotten. All he wanted was for this school day to end so he and Hashirama could pick up where they left off. “Come on.”

“Don’t be so hasty,” Hashirama said, but he still hurried up to finish.

They walked back down together. They fell into step easily, making spaces for each other, as their bodies remembered truths older than the modern age.

[queerwaugh]

laugh like you mean it

Todoroki has a problem or, well, it's more like an addiction. The addiction in question? Bakugo's laugh.

/bnha, todobaku - 3114 words/

Todoroki had no memory of ever having heard Bakugo's laugh, which was weird, right? Even he laughed occasionally. Sure, it was usually just a quiet chuckle but a laugh was a laugh. So yeah, it was weird that he'd never heard Bakugo laugh before and he couldn't help the curiosity that burned under his skin.

"Have you ever heard Bakugo... like laugh?" he asked, staring across the room at the aforementioned boy.

Midoriya looked up from his food. He continued chewing for a couple seconds before finally swallowing. "He goes 'hah' sometimes."

"That's not - " Todoroki blinked, taking his eyes off Bakugo to focus on Midoriya. "That's not laughing."

Midoriya shrugged, taking another bite of his sandwich. "He almost laughed once, I think - "

"Really?" Todoroki perked up, but then flushed, realizing how stupid he was for getting excited over something like this. He ducked his head and cleared his throat. "Really?" he repeated, a little calmer now.

"Mmm," Midoriya replied around his mouthful of bread, "but he covered his mouth before he actually laughed."

Todoroki nodded slowly. "Isn't that kinda weird?" He went back to staring at Bakugo, who was currently swatting Kaminari's hand away from his food quite violently. "Even I laugh."

Midoriya seemed to think about it for a minute. "I guess, yeah."

"He has to find something funny," Todoroki continued, squinting his eyes.

"I would assume," Midoriya said with a knowing nod. "Why do you care so much?"

Todoroki opened his mouth, closed it. He prayed he wasn't blushing again. "I don't know," he mumbled. "I'm just curious."

"That's understandable, I guess," Midoriya's eyes sparkled. "How about we have a movie night?"

Todoroki looked at him oddly. "Like just us?"

"No way," Midoriya laughed, taking a sip of his milk. "He would never agree to that, but we can make it like... a class thing."

Todoroki pursed his lips, thinking. "And we'd play comedy movies?"

"You got it," Midoriya replied with a winning grin. "And we won't stop until he laughs."

Todoroki decided it wasn't such a bad idea. At the very least it'd be a fun night for everyone, and at best he'd finally get to hear Bakugo's laugh; the laugh he seemed to be all but hiding. "Okay," he said. "Let's suggest it."

/

Everyone agreed even Bakugo though it took about thirty minutes of convincing from Kirishima and Kaminari. Todoroki thanked them silently (mentally) as they left, and went to start making a list of the best comedy movies.

He got help from Midoriya and Uraraka, who both apparently loved comedy movies. Iida said they were boring, which surprised Todoroki a bit.

"Okay," Uraraka said after a couple hours of searching and planning. She held up their list. "This should have everyone dying of laughter by the end of the night."

Iida didn't look convinced, but he nodded anyway if only to support his friends.

/

"This is - " Bakugo had taken a chair, opting out of sitting on one of the couchs on the grounds of 'I don't want to be touched all night' " - so boring."

Todoroki wasn't so sure that was true - everyone else was boiling over with laughter, clutching their stomachs and smacking each other playfully.

"You really don't find any of this funny?" Kirishima asked, looking over at Bakugo like he was sick. "That last movie was hilarious." He nudged Kaminari with his elbow. "Right?"

Kaminari nodded, an oddly serious look on his face. "Totally. Bakugo's just broken."

Todoroki opened his mouth, closed it. Squinted his eyes. "That's not nice," he muttered finally, flushing when Bakugo quickly turned to look at him. "I - I didn't find that last movie very funny, either, is all."

"Then you're both broken," Sero piped up. He made a humming noise. "Maybe you two are more similar than you think."

Bakugo glared at Sero for a solid minute before sighing and relaxing again. "Just put in the next one."

/

They continued like that for most of the night until finally they got to the last movie on the list. It was a strangely serious movie given the point of the night, and Todoroki was actually kind of invested by the middle.

Then someone suddenly got injured out of the blue, and Todoroki was so surprised he squeaked, praying no one noticed. And they didn't, he realized thankfully, because they were too focused on someone else.

Bakugo.

Who was currently laughing. A real, solid laugh. Sure, it wasn't loud or aggressive or over the top, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

Todoroki watched, slightly awed, as he finally chilled out, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand kind of aggressively.

"You laughed," Todoroki said. He let out a choppy laugh himself. "You're terrible."

Bakugo looked at him, but he didn't really seem all that angry. He shrugged. "What can I say?" he sighed, turning back to look at the screen. "It was funny."

Kaminari looked completely offended. "His love interest fell through a frozen lake, Bakugo!" he barked. "How is that funny?"

"Different senses of humor, I guess," Bakugo replied with a shark-like grin. "Now shut up."

And just like that they all went back to watching the movie. Well, almost all of them - Todoroki spent the rest of the night watching Bakugo, replaying his laugh over and over in his mind. It had been surprisingly... normal, and nice really. He'd expected something more harsh and aggressive to match Bakugo's personality, but it'd been pretty soft. Solid, yeah, but not jarring at all.

He finally looked away when Bakugo turned, flushing.

At least the mystery was solved. Now he could go back to never thinking about Bakugo's laugh again.

/

But there was a problem. Todoroki couldn't stop thinking about it. About Bakugo and his surprisingly beautiful laugh, and it wouldn't be a problem really but he was so distracted during practice he almost got seriously injured, which resulted in Aizawa-sensei yelling at him for a total of twenty minutes before sending him off to the nurse's office.

He didn't know what was so special about Bakugo's laugh. Maybe it was simply the rarity of it. It wasn't something he always gave out - it was saved for special occasions. Todoroki couldn't help wondering what - in Bakugo's mind - counted as a special occasion.

/

During practice a few days later he was surprised when Kaminari suddenly flew by him like a bird, landing across the field with an audible thud. That, in and of itself, was nothing special, but then Bakugo entered Todoroki's line of sight.

He barked out a laugh as he stood over Kaminari, "I win", but then helped him up. A little roughly, of course, but still.

Todoroki was so distracted Midoriya got him right in the rib and quickly pulled back.

"I'm so sorry - I'm so - Oh, jeez - "

But he could barely hear Midoriya's muddled apologies he was so focused on Bakugo.

"I'm fine," he said quickly, ignoring the soft pain in his side. "Let's continue."

/

"I think I have a problem," Todoroki announced a week later. He was sitting at one of the many lunch tables with their (his?) usual group; Midoriya, Uraraka, and Iida. Everyone turned to look at him, waiting. He cleared his throat. "I think I might have an addiction for lack of a better word."

Uraraka's eyes suddenly went wide. "Oh god."

Then Todoroki realized his choice of words and quickly continued, "not like drugs."

She let out a sigh, nodding. "Good, good, so what is your addiction?"

Iida leaned forward, glancing at Todoroki's face. "You can confide in us!"

He knew that. Really, and normally he wouldn't even hesitate this much but... this situation was weird and abnormal and he was pretty sure this stupid addiction (obsession, maybe) had led to him realizing something else.

"I think I'm gay," he said suddenly, staring at nothing in particular. "Actually that's wrong - I'm positive I'm gay."

"Oh." Iida nodded, reaching over to gently tap Todoroki's back. "That's - "

Uraraka smiled brightly. "Cool, duh." She blinked. "But what does that have to do with - " she waved her hand. "You know."

"I realized I was gay..." Todoroki began, speaking slow, thinking his words through, "because I think I have a crush on Bakugo."

Midoriya seemed very surprised by this news, but he didn't say anything.

"But still," Uraraka laughed a little. "What does that have to do with addictions?"

Todoroki stared at the table. He could feel his face, his ears turning red. "This all stemmed from me, maybe, having an unhealthy obsession with Bakugo's laugh." He looked up. "But I realized recently I don't think this really has anything to do with his laugh."

Midoriya suddenly started laughing. Todoroki ducked his head, feeling foolish. He should've expected this, but then Midoriya was reaching across the table and grasping his hands. He grinned. "This is totally weird, but I'm all far for it."

"Wait." Todoroki blinked. "You are?"

Midoriya laughed again, squeezing his hands. "Yup."

"We all are," Uraraka said, smiling sweetly. "But I have to say... you sure did pick a winner."

Todoroki flushed again. "Yeah," he glanced in the direction of Bakugo's usual table. "We barely even talk. I don't know how I'd even approach him nevertheless try to..." He gestured vaguely. "You know."

"I have a solution," Iida said suddenly. "Another movie night."

Todoroki glanced at him, squinting his eyes. "But how - "

"Hear me out," Iida continued, putting a hand up. "We have a movie night, but this time we can do horror - it's Bakugo-kun's favorite, apparently. We all slowly filter out until it's just you two." He looked pleased with himself. "Like a date."

"That's not," Uraraka looked thoughtful for a second, "an entirely bad idea."

Midoriya nodded. "But won't he notice something's up?"

"We can dim the lights," Uraraka replied with a confident nod of her head. "And come up with good, realistic excuses. All of us."

Todoroki went stiff. "Wait, so you guys want to tell... people?" He blinked. "About this?"

Uraraka reached across the table, placing a gentle hand on Todoroki's arm. "Sorry, we didn't even ask. If you don't wanna do this, we'll drop it." She glanced around at the others, who both quickly nodded their agreement. "But if you do, we're totally rooting for you and if anyone tries to be a dick, we'll teach them a lesson or two."

She winked, and Todoroki suddenly felt confident like maybe this wasn't a terrible idea.

"Okay," he said. "Let's do it."

/

Todoroki was surprised; everyone was so nice about the situation - both about his coming out, and his crush on the problem child of their class.

"We're cheering for you," Jirou said, a relaxed but sincere smile on her face.

Kaminari nodded, throwing a fist into the air. "Hell yeah! Gay rights!"

Momo gently elbowed him, giving a stern look. "I mean, yes," she turned to Todoroki, smiling sweetly, "we do support you."

It made him feel surprisingly warm inside. He had friends. Not just Uraraka, Midoriya, Iida but everyone. Sure, he wasn't super close with a lot of them, but this proved they all care about him anyway and he cared about them, too.

/

Their plan almost worked, but halfway through the night Bakugo stood up and started to leave. Todoroki stumbled over his words, unsure what to do, but then Uraraka took over. "Hey, where are you going?"

He looked back over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes. "For a walk."

"But - " she gestured lamely at the screen.

Bakugo nodded slowly. "Yeah, I've already seen this one." Then he was gone.

"Okay," Uraraka announced, jumping up and switching the lights on. She steadied her gaze on Todoroki, unblinking. "Go."

He opened his mouth, closed it. "What?" he asked finally.

"Go after him," she said, already pulling him up. "Say you want to go for a walk, too."

"But - but - " Todoroki stuttered helplessly.

Midoriya stood up, too, giving him a fierce hug. When he pulled back, he grinned. "We all believe in you, okay?" He gently pushed him in the direction of the door. "Now go."

/

Todoroki stood outside for a long, long moment. He glanced around finally, both relieved and a little scared to find that he could see Bakugo's back in the distance, walking further and further away. Swallowing around the nervous lump in his throat, he jogged to catch up with him, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach.

"Hi," he squeaked once he'd gotten close, immediately cursing himself mentally.

Bakugo slowed down, glancing back. He squinted his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Um. Oh." He cleared his throat. "I just needed some air."

Bakugo continued to watch him for a few seconds before shrugging, turning away. "Okay."

"You, uh, you like horror movies, right?" Todoroki asked, keeping a few steps behind. He wiped his hands on his pants, embarrassed to find they were sweaty.

Bakugo made a noise like he was vaguely annoyed, but not too much to answer apparently. "Yeah," he said eventually, turning a corner. Todoroki picked up his pace, turning the corner just to collide with Bakugo's back.

He gently touched his nose, which had nicely collided with the back of Bakugo's head. "What's wrong?" he asked after a second.

Bakugo turned around, an odd look on his face. "Did I do something?"

Todoroki blinked. Once, twice. "No," he said. "No. Why do you think that?"

"You've been acting weird," Bakugo said accusingly, but a part of him almost sounded... upset. "And do not get me wrong," he continued, back to his usual self, "you're always weird as hell but this is like - " he waved his hand aimlessly " - a new level."

Todoroki was surprised to say the least. He hadn't realized he'd been so obvious.

"I - I'm sorry."

Bakugo sighed heavily, raking his fingers through his hair. "I don't want an apology, idiot," he mumbled, looking away. "I just want to know what's up with you. And with everyone for that matter." He narrowed his eyes, but he still wasn't looking at Todoroki. "They were all being weird tonight."

Todoroki chewed on his bottom lip, debating what to do. "It's my fault," he replied finally, shoulders slumping. "I told them something, and... they all wanted to help me. I'm sorry if we - if I made you uncomfortable."

"What?" Bakugo barked out a laugh, and Todoroki felt the butterflies in his stomach do a flip. "I wasn't uncomfortable," he said, spitting the word out like it's an insult. "I just don't like being kept out of the loop."

He stepped forward, invading Todoroki's personal space.

"So?" he lifted an eyebrow. "What did you tell them?"

Todoroki stared at him, unblinking. His ears were probably red by now. His face, too. He felt like he was on fire with Bakugo standing this close. If he breathed heavy enough, their chests would probably touch. He looked away. "I told them about my crush."

"Oh." Bakugo stepped back, looking genuinely shocked. "That's. Not what I was expecting."

Todoroki glanced at him shyly. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Wait," Bakugo lifted a hand. "What does that have to do with..." he trailed off. His eyes went wide, but he didn't look angry. Todoroki counted that as a blessing.

He laughed again, but this time it was sharp and short.

Todoroki flushed, staring at the ground, wishing he could disappear.

"You can't be serious," Bakugo said, but when Todoroki looked up he was grinning. "You like me, Half 'n Half?" He looked much too pleased with himself. Todoroki opened his mouth, closed it. He nodded. "Not that I can blame you."

Todoroki rolled his eyes, relaxing a little. At least he wasn't angry. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

Bakugo looked at him, an odd expression on his face. "Why do you keep apologizing?"

"Cause..." Todoroki furrowed his brows. "I don't know. It's weird, right?"

Bakugo rolled his eyes. "I'm an asshole, Half 'n Half, but I'm not that kind of asshole." He paused. "And anyway, what kind of hypocrite would I be if I treated you bad for this?" His voice was surprisingly soft. "I'm bi myself." He shrugged. "Mostly. I prefer dudes, I think, but you know - " he waved lazily " - who cares about details like that?"

Todoroki simply stared, surprised but overwhelmed with hope - relief.

"So tonight..." Bakugo crinkled his nose. "They were trying to set us up?"

Todoroki looked away. "Uh. Yeah." He ducked his head. "Sorry."

"Stop with that," Bakugo waved him off.

They stood there for a long moment, not saying anything.

"Let's go grab some slushies," Bakugo announced suddenly.

Todoroki looked at him, eyes wide. "What?"

"Sl - ush - ies," Bakugo repeated slowly. "You know icy drinks?"

Todoroki blinked. Once, twice. "Yes, I know what slushies are, but... why?"

"Cause," Bakugo shrugged. "I wanna." He lifted an eyebrow. "You don't want to?"

Todoroki opened his mouth, closed it. He nodded slowly, avoiding eye contact. "I do."

/

"So." Bakugo took a long sip of his slushie. "What made you realize?"

Todoroki glanced over, briefly distracted by Bakugo's bright red lips. Looking away, he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Realize what?"

Bakugo made a funny noise, but Todoroki was pretty sure it was meant to be a laugh. He kicked Todoroki's leg. "That you like me."

"Oh." Todoroki stared down at his own slushie. He thought about coming up with some lie, but what good would that do? "Your laugh."

There was a brief moment of silence. "Wow," Bakugo breathed. "That's... something."

"It's weird," Todoroki mumbled, talking fast. "I know - it's just - your laugh is like, really, nice." He flushed, pausing to take a sip of his slushie. He wondered briefly if his own lips were turning red. "That's weird. I'm sorry."

Bakugo laughed, but then abruptly paused. "Not sure why that would win you over."

"It's..." Todoroki squeezed his cup, finding comfort in the coolness. "Nice," he repeated lamely.

"Wow," Bakugo kicked him again, more gentle this time. "You're great with words."

Todoroki nodded, unsure how to reply. He continued sipping at his slushie.

"You're not not my type," Bakugo said suddenly. Todoroki looked at him, eyes wide. He squeezed his cup a little too hard. "I mean," Bakugo quickly continued, "you're not terrible, all things considered."

Todoroki gave a tiny, nervous smile. "Thanks?"

"So." Bakugo licked his lips. If he noticed Todoroki staring, he didn't say anything. "I'm just saying - we can do this again. If you want."

Todoroki squinted his eyes. "What - get slushies?"

"Yes," Bakugo replied, a little too fast. He narrowed his eyes. "If that's not good enough for - "

Todoroki threw a hand up, interrupting. "No, no, that's. Yes. I'd like that."

"Okay," Bakugo replied, bringing his straw up to his lips.

Todoroki smiled a little. "Okay."

[chogiwakeupsheeple]

TaeKai; The F in Friendship Stands for Feelings ~ pt. 1

Genre: Angst (fluff)      Pairing: Taemin x Kai      Words: 4123      TW: Bullying

Lee Taemin falls in love with his straight best friend, Kim Jongin, and suddenly everything is complicated; no one ever claimed love couldn't be painful

AN: Originally posted on my AO3!

Taemin is gay. Taemin has been repeating that statement to himself over and over again in the mirror for the past ten minutes, but the meaning of the words just wouldn’t sink in. Or perhaps they already had, but he simply refused to acknowledge them, as that would mean he was finally facing the fact that he was in love with his best friend: Kim Jongin.

Every morning when he woke up to the sound of a continuous beep, he would sigh in relief; perhaps he had had the same nightmare about being chased through an endless hallway, or maybe he hadn't dreamt anything at all but was simply happy to be awake. Most likely though, he had dreamt about Jongin and his perfect golden skin and contagious laughter again. The two of them had been as close as close can be for as long as they could both remember, and when Taemin thinks about their relation, it seems inevitable that he would fall for him eventually. Or actually, the more he's coming to terms with his newfound sexuality, he's starting to wonder if maybe he's been in love this entire time - he simply didn't know the feeling or the definition of it. Even now, as he stared at his own porcelain skin in the mirror, trapped in his own thoughts and insecurities, he still wasn't sure what love was; he had never dared to find out.

He looked over at the red numbers displayed on his alarm clock, which told him he had to leave the house soon unless he wanted to be late for school. As of late, Taemin found it incredibly hard to leave his bed and get ready for the day ahead. Usually he looked forward to hanging out with his best friend and laughing in class together, but sadly Jongin wasn't just his best friend anymore. Merely seeing him walk down the hallway with a smile planted on his face made Taemin's heart sink; he was a fool if he thought he could ever have him.  

His mom mentioned something about him not having any breakfast as he walked out the door, but he barely registered it. Even if he ate his body felt empty, so what was the point? The books in his bag felt heavy, but his heart was even heavier - pulling him down and forcing his eyes to the grey cement beneath him. He managed to kick a small stone the entire way from his house to the school, and while that might have been a great achievement for a child, Taemin was sixteen now - a proper achievement would be going on a date with hot Jessica from his class or get recruited for the school’s football team.

The first thing would be no problem for him - Taemin was actually quite handsome and caught the eyes of many girls at the school. Or perhaps handsome wasn't the correct word - he was beautiful. His thin frame and fair complexion worked perfectly with his feminine features and cute smile. While most girls preferred the rugged, manly style, a good handful actually loved his androgynous look. He didn't really mind all the attention, the only problem was that it was all coming from girls.  He didn't stand a chance on the football team with his physique though, but he was quite content with being Jongin's personal cheerleader on the sidelines anyway. Jongin had always been very fit and incredibly good at sports - just one of the many things Taemin adored about him. Sadly, many girls had the same thought and gathered to scream his name at every game, making sure to each offer a fresh towel when he came off the field all sweaty and dirty - he always chose the one Taemin had brought though.

The school was already filled with life and various students walking to their respective classrooms with books in hand. At that moment Taemin wanted nothing more than to become invisible or at the very least get through the day without a certain someone finding him. His wishes, however, were soon crushed. As he was picking up some books from his locker, he heard someone slowly approaching him. Bracing himself for whatever was to come, Taemin practically shoved his entire head into his locker, hoping he could pretend he was looking for something, when in reality he couldn't bear to look his friend in the eyes.

 ''Good morning, Tae...''

Sure enough, the voice belonged to Jongin but something was off about his tone; a mixture of disappointment and sadness lingered behind his words. ''Good morning...'' Taemin mumbled into his books. Jongin was leaned up against the locker next to Taemin's and was standing so close that Tae could practically feel the heat that radiated from his body - It was driving him nuts.  

 ''You, uhm, wasn't there at my match yesterday - I missed my cheerleader.''

His voice was so sincere that Taemin instantly wanted to wrap him in a big hug and apologize, but sadly that wasn't an option. And he wasn't about to look his best friend in the eyes as he told him a direct and very uncreative lie.

 ''Sorry, I was busy with the math homework for today and I couldn't make it-'' The next thing he said probably came out a little more aggressive than it should have, but his emotions got the best of him, much to his dismay. ''-don't you have like a billion other cheerleaders anyway? What do you need me for?''

Although Jongin was hurt by his words, he knew his friend well enough to know that when he was being like this, it was most likely something else bothering him and causing him to lash out. He stepped even closer and carefully removed Taemin's head from its hiding place, lovingly caressing his cheek and offering him a sweet smile. If there was something to turn Tae's knees weak, it was Jongin's smile - it always lit up his face and practically made his handsome features glow. It took all of his self control to force himself to move his face away from the others hand, denying his loving gesture. Jongin blinked a few times in confusion at the reaction he was getting. He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to them, and then lowered his voice, making sure only those two could hear.

''Hey, I get if you don't want to talk about what's bothering you here, we can always talk later at my place?''

Like lighting from a blue sky Tae slammed his locker shut, causing the other to jump in place. ''Nothing's wrong Jongin. I'm sorry I couldn't be there at your match but I sure hope you'll learn to live without me by your side constantly''. Had his sarcasm been any stronger it could probably have been cut with a knife, and it was safe to say it only made the other boy even more confused. It's not that Taemin didn't want to be around his friend all the time, actually, he wanted nothing more than to spend all his time with him - laughing, playing around, watching movies, holding hands, perhaps even kissi- No, he was letting his mind wander again.

The entire thing was still very new to Taemin, but in his mind he currently only had two options: Avoid and ignore his best friend in the entire world until he found a way to repress his feelings, or come clean and hope Jongin wouldn't be so repulsed that he never dared to look at him again. None of the options seemed great but at least the first one was slightly easier to pull off than the second. And so he walked down the hallway alone, leaving a very flustered and sad Jongin behind.

Anyone that knew Kim Jongin even just a little bit knew that he wasn't the type to just be knocked down. So when he walked into the classroom, a few minutes later than Tae, he could have chosen the conflict free solution of sitting alone in the back, or he could refuse rejection and sit next to his friend like usual. Placing his bag on the ground, he swore he saw Tae in the corner of his eye moving his chair away from his ever so slightly. No words were exchanged when he sat down and soon enough the teacher walked in and class began like usual, with everyone completely unaware of the cloud of awkwardness that hung above the pair.

At some point during the class, Taemin was disturbed in the middle of a rather frustrating math problem when a piece of folded paper was, not so discreetly, slid across the table to his side. He looked up and sent a dark glare resembling that of their classmate Do Kyungsoo, but he simply got an innocent smile in return. With a defeated sigh he unfolded the paper and read its contents.

‘Something's bothering you and I'm sadly not a mindreader (wouldn't that be cool though?), so you'll have to tell me what it is. Ice cream after school?’  

And just like they were back in kindergarten he had even added three boxes he could check in response: yes, definitely or all of the above. Taemin couldn't help but crack the smallest smile at his friends silliness, but he managed to wipe it off as soon as he felt eyes on him. He hovered the pencil above the paper for a while before, reluctantly, putting an x in the 'yes' box. Sliding the paper back to its sender, he whispered something, hoping the teacher wouldn't hear: ''Geez, how can I say no to you?'' With a sly wink the reply came: ''you can't'.

The rest of the day passed by seemingly normal, except for the fact that it was agonizingly slow - at least in Taemin's mind it was. Throughout the day he discovered that completely avoiding Jongin would only make him want to be around him even more, and that Jongin apparently didn't plan on leaving him alone. They sat together at lunch like usual and Jongin offered him some of his food after hearing that he hadn't eaten breakfast. Then he began a long lecture on the importance of eating right, but Tae barely heard any of it as he was distracted by the sudden butterflies in his stomach. His hand accidentally touched Jongin's forearm as he reached out for his fork, and then he was in a panicked rush to hurry away to the - well - anywhere but next to his friend with     unnaturally soft skin. Yet again, Jongin was left baffled and confused.

Tae hurried off to the bathroom to splash cold water in his face. He was amazed at the fact that merely realising his feelings was enough to make Jongin poisonous to him. All throughout their friendship they had loved touching, hugging, even the occasional kiss on the cheek when they were younger, but now it was all different. Taemin felt almost dirty when he  touched the other, and he felt like he did something wrong, because the way he touched him now was not with the same intentions as before - and that wasn't fair to Jongin.

Looking at himself in the mirror he tried to regain his sanity before the school bell rang, signaling the beginning of his last two classes. A few people walked in and out to use the stalls, and for a moment he contemplated walking into one himself to be alone and let his tears fall if that was what he needed. It wouldn't be the first time he had run off to the bathroom to cry - for various different reasons. The truth was that, for a great deal of years, Taemin had been bullied ruthlessly by the other boys in the school because of his feminine way of looking and acting. It wasn't until Jongin had grown into a rather muscular and  threatening man, that the bullies backed off. He was, of course, just acting that way but they didn’t know that. At that time his best friend had also become his bodyguard; his knight in shining armor.

At the end of the school day, Tae and Jongin had agreed to meet by the bike rack in the parking lot so they could walk to the ice cream shop together. Tae was met by a big smile as he walked towards his friend, and the sight made his heart flutter yet again. 

''It's been a while, I was starting to think you wouldn't show up'' Jongin grinned. He was merely joking, but it was still as if there was a hint of genuine worry to his tone.

''I'm sorry, Ms. Wallace wanted to talk to me about my essay and she never stopped talking'' Tae explained while flapping his hand in an attempt to imitate Ms. Wallace's running mouth. The two boys laughed together for a while before Tae took the first step in the direction of the shop. He didn't go far though, as something pulled on his backpack, keeping him from moving. He looked back to see the other boy shaking his head and patting the back of his bicycle.

 ''The walk is too long, just sit on the back and we'll ride together.'’

This wasn't an unusual request, they had done it many times before, but like so many other things this activity had also been ruined inside Taemin's mind. Seeing the doubt in his friend's eyes, Jongin left no room for thinking and grabbed the other's wrist, pulling him down on his bicycle before climbing onto it himself. When it became clear that Tae had no other intention than sitting there, stiff as a board, Jongin reached behind him and wrapped porcelain arms around his own waist for safety. Taemin didn't object, but when he felt Jongin's defined abs through his shirt he swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. The two of them had sleepovers a lot, so Taemin knew very well that under all those clothes his friend had a stupendous resemblance to a greek statue - he was goddamned perfect and Tae couldn't handle it. One night Taemin couldn't even fall asleep because Jongin had insisted on sleeping topless due to the heat; it had been an endless game of ''to look or not to look?''. One which he inevitably lost.

After what had seemed like an endless ride they finally reached the ice cream shop and Taemin jumped off the bicycle with an exaggerated sigh. ''When you get your driver's license I am not getting in a car with you if you drive the way you just did'' he huffed. Jongin let out a full laugh and playfully hit the other's shoulder. ''You know I usually drive better than that, I was just seeing if perhaps I could shake the sadness out of you'' he answered.

Taemin corrected his hair using the camera on his phone and ironically scoffed at the other's comment - it was cute that he at least tried, even though he had no clue what the problem was. Oh right, that was a thing too, he had to actually tell him the problem. Taemin had completely forgotten why they were getting ice cream in the first place, and he had to come up with a way out of it fast. Lying wasn't Tae's speciality, and to be quite honest he hated it and avoided it at all costs, but sadly it was sometimes necessary.

As they walked inside and placed their usual order, Taemin racked his brain for a fake-problem he could tell to Jongin in a convincing way without making it sound too bad. If he made it too dramatic, he would never get the other to let it go. Jongin paid for both ice creams like usual. Taemin always offered to pay for himself, but every time the other simply waved it off like it wasn't up for discussion, so eventually he had to admit defeat and let his friend spoil him. It had been a while since both of them had been there together actually; the last time was four months ago, when Taemin still had his long, girly hair. As his strawberry ice cream was handed to him a light turned on above his head; his feminine appearance would be his fake problem.

They sat down in a secluded, comfy booth furthest away from the entrance, making sure they had privacy. Jongin immediately threw himself over his dessert, almost forgetting why he had dragged his friend all the way over there. Taemin rested his chin in his hand as he admired his friend - he didn't even notice that a small smile was growing on his face. His friend's deep brown eyes met his as he finally stopped eating. ''Do I have ice cream on my face?'' Jongin asked. Taemin snapped out of his dreamy state and moved his hand so fast that he almost crashed his face straight into the table.

 ''N-no, I don't- ''

He was interrupted in the middle of his rambling when his friend quickly leaned across the table and smeared some of his chocolate ice cream on Taemin's nose with a playful smirk. ''Then why were you smiling like that?'' Jongin couldn't hold back his laughter when Tae pulled that face he always did when he was dumbfounded. He loved that face and he always had. He resembled a cute puppy that had just fallen over its own legs when he was astonished, and that face was the reason that Jongin had a habit of teasing his friend so much. Taemin's mind was working full speed to find an excuse for blatantly staring at his friend, but luckily he didn't need an explanation because after a while the other stopped laughing and handed him a napkin instead.

''I'm sorry, I was just trying to lighten the mood before you tell me what's bothering you...''

Taemin wiped the sticky food off his face and folded the napkin, tightly wrapping his fist around it out of nervousness. He was about to lie to his best friend yet again and nothing in the entire world hurt him more than having to do that. Jongin's eyes were wide, expectantly waiting for the other to start talking. ''Well, you see, you must have noticed that for a boy I'm very... feminine'' he began. Jongin lifted his eyebrows in surprise at the other's statement - it clearly wasn't that sort of problem he was anticipating.

''Uhm, I- yes, I've noticed. I hope you don't think I see you as any less of a man though.''

It was obvious that he wasn't sure on how to respond which caused him to fumble with his words. Taemin found it endearing that his friend cared so much about his feelings. One of the many perks of knowing each other since childhood was that they both knew all the other's insecurities, so they were able to tread lightly when discussing sore topics. Taemin's sore topic was him being bullied because of his appearance, although as of late it was his blooming love for someone forbidden, but he wouldn't dare to discuss that with anyone If Taemin's subject was a sore one, Jongin's was excruciating in comparison, which is why they almost never talked about it.

 ''I know you don't think like those bullies Jongin, you've always respected me no matter how I've looked or acted.'' Taemin's lips curled up into a smile and Jongin mirrored his action. ''I honestly don't understand why people have a problem with it. Remember when you had the long hair? I thought it looked great - especially when you put it up into a ponytail.'' 

Taemin did remember. It had been four months since he decided to cut it because of the many opportunities it gave his bullies to pick on him. He remembered crying when he asked Jongin to take him to the hairdresser and he remembered the deep fire that burned in his friend's eyes, because Jongin     loved that hair and he hated not being able to protect Taemin from the disgusting people at school. In the beginning it had been great and Taemin had thoroughly enjoyed Jongin absentmindedly running his fingers through his soft hair whenever they watched a movie as well as watching the glint he got in his eyes whenever he tied up his hair. But one day it all got thrown away when a group of his bullies stopped just making rude comments and did something so foul that it instantly made Jongin’s blood boil when Taemin told him with tears streaming down his face.

The day had been seemingly quiet right until the two split up - Jongin headed for his locker and Taemin for the bathroom. Just as he entered the men's bathroom he was met by his three worst bullies who were waiting for him. Taemin froze in place and deeply hoped it was just a coincidence, but of course he wasn't that lucky. He took a step toward one of the stalls but his path was blocked and before he could run, he was surrounded. ''Can you believe it guys? This girl must've gotten lost on her way to the women's bathroom'' the largest of the group said. The others started laughing and the sound sent a shiver down Taemin's spine. He tried to back away but bumped right into the chest of the bully behind him. It was no secret that Tae wasn't exactly the strongest of the bunch, so when two of them grabbed his arms he didn't struggle - he knew it would be useless. The leader pulled something up from his pocket, which Taemin quickly recognised as a lipstick. This time he tried to wriggle free and move his face away to avoid the makeup that was being applied to him. ''If you move your face your lipstick will just get crooked and we don't want that, now do we, sweetie?'' he had said with a shit-eating grin. When they were done with their work they finally let him go, yelling ''don't walk into the wrong bathroom again!'' after him.

The memory made Taemin rather uncomfortable as he poked his half-eaten and now melted ice cream. Jongin grew more and more worried as he saw his friend disappear deeper into himself. He carefully placed his warm hand on Tae's forearm, causing him to look up.

 ''Tae,'' Jongin whispered, ''I'm sorry I couldn't save you back then.''

Taemin forced a smile on his face. He suddenly wished he had chosen a fake problem that felt less real and didn't hurt him as much. ''You shouldn't have to save me every time’’ he answered, ‘’ I should be able to take care of myself so you wouldn't have to escort me around all the time - It's not fair for you that you have to be my bodyguard.'' Before he even got to finish the sentence, Jongin had stood up and walked to the other side of the booth to sit next to Taemin and wrap him in a tight hug. His voice was muffled by Taemin's shoulder but it was almost painfully sincere.

 ''You don’t get to decide what’s fair - if you're hurt, I'm hurt.''

Taemin was about to answer but was interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. He heard a silent curse coming from his friend before he lifted his head and pulled his phone out of his pocket. ''Sorry'' he said before looking at the word ‘mom’ written across his screen. Suddenly, he jumped up with slight panic in his eyes and scrambled to collect all his stuff.

''I'm so sorry, I completely forgot I was supposed to go with my mom to visit my grandmother today - I'll drive you home first, of course.''

Taemin wished he could have kept his friend's company, especially now that his past gnawed at him and his feelings overflowed, but of course he couldn't let that show.  ''It's okay, you just hurry home, I'll walk - I need some fresh air anyway'' he reassured. He tried hiding the disappointment in his voice behind a smile, but the other saw right through him. Why Jongin did the next thing he did was beyond him; maybe it was his own strange attempt at apologizing for leaving, or perhaps it was to calm his friend. He didn't know, but regardless of that he leaned in and planted a loving kiss on Taemin's forehead before leaving the shop.

This time it was Taemin who was left behind, baffled and confused.

Part: one | two | three

[badtimes103]

katsuki bakugou x reader

warnings: language, sexual mention

………….............................................................

it was a normal day in the UA dorms, class had just let out and all of 1-A was stumbling back to their rooms after an intense day of training. you were unaware of the pair of eyes on you as you rubbed your sore neck and walked with your friends. bakugou felt like his eyes were trained into you for years even if he had met you only a few months ago. he watched curiously as you rubbed your muscles to loosen them, how your strong but delicate hands worked around your shoulder. his gaze continued as you worked down to your wrist and then to your lower back.

watching you was his guilty pleasure, not sure whether it helped or harmed him. he was knocked from his daydream by kirishima hitting his back,

"you might want to blink a couple times a minute, man." he laughed, "go talk to her-"

"why would i do that, moron ? just drop it."

kirishima had noticed bakugou's change in attitude as of late. his friend was always angry, aggressive even, but it only seemed to worsen when you transferred here from a different hero school. bakugou had faltered when it came to his focus on his studies, he was still a fierce competitor when sparing or training but it's almost as if his motive changed slightly.

bakugou couldn't stand how your presence made him feel, women and relationships were a waste of time to him. he never found the same interest in his female peers like the other boys of class 1-A. the thought of anything romantic had never crossed his mind. every now and then he'd get the unoriginal remark from his mother of never being able to find a nice girl with that anger of his. he would always brush it off, not caring what the 'hag' was saying.

at first he thought the knot in his chest that formed the moment you were introduced to the class was just another annoyance being added to his index. but a few days later you had unintentionally brushed past him in the lunch room and the knot returned tighter, some how different from the constant rage he had been accustomed to.

he found himself not able to shake the memory from his brain, not a word was transferred between you two but that one encounter replayed in his mind on repeat. he found himself trying to set up more chances of interacting. he'd wait longer to head to class just to maybe trail a few meters behind you, he'd stay up past 8:30 just to sit in the commons at the same time as you, waiting until you headed to your room before dismissing himself. shame boiled in his mind for his habits being almost stalker-ish.

anytime these actions were questioned he'd blow up on the defensive. stating that he wouldn't do something so idiotic, that he'd never stoop so low as to live his life for someone else. but that was only the first month, eventually you had started to pick up his routine and that he was often somewhere near you. when you confronted him about it, even if it was a passive encounter, he had lashed out.

bakugou hung onto that encounter too, thinking about what he had shouted over and over and regretting it. oh how he hated how he regretted it, he never regretted anything really. he never cared what others thought, it was beneath him. but that first chance he had to communicate with you, he blew it. sure you had laughed it off, others had warned you about him being a loose cannon, but he was convinced you hated him.

believe it or not he did try his hardest to ignore it, to focus on training and becoming the number hero like he use to. he had just gotten a handle on his feelings when on an unlucky afternoon he had accidentally walked into the wrong changing room right before class. while lost in thought and on his way to change into his gym uniform he had opened the wrong door. though he couldn't see much, the image of your bare legs only clad in black lace underwear and toned back was scorched into his mind. your shirt was only half way down when he walked in, he couldn't help his mind from wondering to how nice your ass looked in your thin panties.

he found himself reminiscing on that memory when he was alone, maybe after a stressful day and he when in need to relieve some tension.

the rest of his usual crowd joined him in walking back to the dorms. they conversed between themselves, bakugou's silence wasn't out of the ordinary but not only was he silent he seemed to have his mind in another place entirely. kirishima used this to quietly talk to kaminari, sero, and ashido.

"have you guys noticed something off about him ?" kirishima mentioned,

"yeah !" inputted sero, "like he's distracted."

"ashido, what do you know about l/n ?"

"well we don't talk much, she's much more around jiro and yaoyorozu."

"well boys, i think our katsuki has a little crush-" kaminari teased,

"what are you extras talking about back there ?!" bakugou snapped,

they all claimed ignorance and silently agreed to finish their conversation later. back at the dorms everyone branched off, going their separate ways to change clothes and relax. you had said your farewells to your girls and went to your room. striping form your uniform you threw on a pair of sweat pants and a tank top, nothing special. your stomach growled and your next venture was to the kitchen

bakugou had changed too, athletic shorts and a simple t-shirt, before leaving and heading for the elevator. he pressed the button and looked to his right to see his group all chatting at he end of the hall. sero pointed to him and hey all looked before sheepishly waving and skittering away. he shook his head, those imbeciles never stopped annoying him.

   he looked back to the elevator when the ding signified that it was here. when the door opened someone was inside, his chest sank when he realized it was you. you gave him no attention, not looking from your phone. for that he was grateful as he slapped a stern look on his face and entered the elevator. he leaned back against the railing and exhaled softly, he was glad that he was behind you because the sweat excreting from his palms made him slip from the bar.

   he hated this, this nervous feeling he had around you. after months of trying to push it away, in that moment he was secluded in that space with you, he decided to say something. he opened his mouth but nothing came out, a large knot had formed in his throat and not a word would escape. his mind turned to mush as he scattered for even one word to say. before he could get a thing out the elevator reached the first floor and it dinged before opening.

   his sweaty palm slammed into his forehead as he mentally cursed at himself for his lack of confidence. he kicked the door before exiting which gained a few stares. his evil glare put his nosey peers back in their place, he had no issue expressing to these people. why was he so stuck with you,

"i'm above everyone, why is this stupid woman doing this to me ?" he grumbled to himself as he stomped to the commons.

   you had left his view, entering the doorway to the kitchen for a snack. bakugou stuck his hand in his pockets and continued to the couches. he looked around and spotted the same annoying few he called his friends. he noticed the mischievous, shit-eating grin that was held on kaminari's face. bakugou turned to him and snarled, nearing the kitchen's exit.

   you were on your way out, reading the ingredients of the muffin you had found. kaminari looked to sero, cuing him to release a strip of tape toward the bottom of the doorway. bakugou followed kaminari's eyes to sero, the moment he realized what was happening it was too late. since you didn't look where you were going you tripped over the tape that wasn't suppose to be there in the first place.

"oh shit !" you gasped, your snack leaving your palms as you fell.

   bakugou was in front of the kitchens exit when you fell. his reflexes were quick but his stance was off, one hand grabbed your wrist before tumbling down to the floor with you on top of him. his other hand snapped above his head and skillfully caught your falling muffin.

   your eyes locked, a laugh escaping you before you started to scramble for ample footing.

"aw, sorry baku ! thanks for saving my food." you got up and snatched the muffin from his palm. "what the fuck sero ? keep your shitty tape in you body next time !"

   bakugou was flushes pink, not sure what had done it. whether it was the contact, the pet name, or the way you spoke to his friend, it all seemed to spread a dumb look on his face and goosebumps through his body. he laid on the floor trying to recover before you reached out a hand to him.

"sorry, again." you helped him to his feet, "are you alright ? i expected you to blow up like 'look where you're going you damn extra !'"

   he still couldn't get out anything but a stutter.

"you hit your head when you went down ?" you laughed,

   he growled and pushed past you, he was annoyed with how cute he found your mocking. everything he felt was so out of character that he found just leaving was a better solution. you shrugged it off and popped open your treat before walking to the elevator again.

   baukugou fell to the couch next to kaminari, still holding his sly grin.

"i am going to fucking kill you !" he exploded,

"i knew you liked her ! look how pink you are !" kirishima laughed,

   bakugou steamed, shoving his face in his hands before looking back to his friends. sero and ashido had joined them all on the couches.

"listen, idiots. what do i do ?"

   asking for advice was one of the hardest things, right after talking to you, and it showed on his defeated posture. his friends were just eating it up, excitement written all over their faces.

"ugh ! just flirt with her !" ashido blurted,

"and how would i do that ? huh, raccoon eyes ? i can't even get a damn word out when i'm near her !"

"have you never talked to a girl before ?" asked sero,

"of course i have but i never thought about them being a girl, all you extras look the same." he groaned,

"ok guys, i think this is a job for the man of the group." kaminari flexed his bicep,

"oh please, you short circuit anytime you talk to jiro !" kirishima laughed,

"none of you are helping !" bakugou blasted,

"alright alright. i've got this, let's go to my dorm."

   kirishima got up and escorted his friend to his room, leaving the other two to pick on kaminari for his earlier statement. an hour later bakugou was shoved out with a wish of good luck. he was given some tips which he appreciated but would never admit to kirishima.

   he looked into the hallway mirror, attempting to fix his hair before it just popped back into the explosive spikes. he looked down and realized he was still in something undesirable. he sighed, if he were to go back to his dorm he'd end up just giving up and psych himself out.

   he looked to himself one more time,

"get this out of your system, you idiot."

   he took the elevator to your floor and looked around for the list of rooms. he searched for your name and found your room number. when he reached it he looked at it, it had a couple ironic stickers stuck to it. he raised his arm but before he could knock the door flung open. you were shocked to see him standing there, this change of plans chipped at his confidence.

"oh, hey bakugou, here to finally bitch at me about earlier ?" something about your foul language plucked at the knot in his chest.

"uh, no. i, um, just-"

"wanna come in ?"

   this question shocked him, inside your room ? with you ? alone ? he nodded softly before you walked back inside.

   he took in the scenery, it wasn't much, a few posters and personal nicknaks. the desk was mostly filled with unfinished assignments and wrappers.

"look, y/n, i uh-"

   looking to you he was struck by your interested stare as you sit crisscrossed on your bed. he rubbed the back of his neck and looked away,

"this is stupid, i gotta-" he turned for the door but you caught his hand,

"no, tell me what you were gonna say."

   your laugh and smile clogged his throat with the same knot from earlier. he was silent for a few more seconds before something snapped in his brain. all the pep talk from kirishima and nerve he dug up to get here and he was stumbling like an idiot. he let out a groan, over this battle, over keeping it all in. he just broke,

"dammit ! y/n ! why can't you just get it ? i fucking like you !" all kirishima's work to make him smooth was a waste,

"well, that's a relief. i thought you hated me-"

"no, you moron, i like you like you ! i can barely be in the same fucking room with you without producing enough shitty sweat to blow the whole place to pieces ! i sit by and listen to your stupid laugh and watch you have fun and wish it was with me !"

   he didn't allow more than a second of silence before raging,

"fucking forget it ! shouldn't have wasted my time on you." bakugou went for the door,

"well do you want to go on a date ?"

   your words took him back, he stood stiff still reaching for the door.

"what ?"

"yeah, isn't that what you do when you, uh, like someone." he turned back to you,

"fine, i should've been the one to fucking ask but sure. where do you want me to take you ?"

"there's a nice bakery down the street from the school ? i can be ready in twenty."

   he shook his head and headed for the door, you followed him out. he turned to you one last time to say something but it seemed like nothing would come out. you laughed and leaned up before placing a soft kiss on his cheek, patting the other one a couple times before leaving him stunned in the hallway.

"meet you down stairs !" you shouted before shutting the door,

   bakugou shook himself together, a small smile spread to his lips. when he turned to go to his room, his four friends stood peaking at him from the end of the hallway. he walked down to them casually, pushing kirishima into the others like dominoes.

"out of my way, losers. i have to get ready."

[rso10]

P R O J E C T 2 1 3 6

“Where’s Micah going?” one of the boys asked curiously as Micah disappeared down the trail with a small backpack, leaving the group of scouts alone with Harley.

“He’s getting a better first-aid kit for my cut so we can stay up here the rest of the weekend,” Harley replied simply, rubbing the tightly wrapped gauze around his left arm. It wasn’t covering anything, the cut had healed soon after the accident, but they had to make a show of it so no one would be the wiser about their situation. This had been their agreement at Micah’s request.

Harley couldn’t understand Micah’s trepidation completely, but he knew that Micah deserved to live a life free of worry, and if this was his way of doing that, then he would play along. That didn’t mean that they couldn’t have some fun with it, however.

“He’ll be back later tonight,” Harley announced, turning toward the large group of boys, “for now, let’s get to our campground and set up the tents, yeah?”

The boys nodded eagerly, their energy boundless as they bobbed into a line and continued up the steep slope that would lead to the first stop of the backpacking trip.

The trees observed the boys as they sang, laughed, and joked all the way up the trail, the terrain no halter to their fun and games. Harley watched from the back as he held up the caboose, a few of the younger, less fit boys gathering in a group at his side as they slowly made their way up the tight switchback.

“Mr. Mitchell?” Ryan, one of the youngest in the group piped up, his legs struggling to keep up with Harley’s already slow pace.

“Call my Harley, Ryan. Formality doesn’t exist in the mountains.”

“Right-” the boy nodded quickly, his moppy hair dancing at the aggressive movement.

“How’d you and Mr.- uh… Micah. How’d you meet him? He’s very nice.”

Harley laughed. He hadn’t expected such a young kid to be so interested in something like that, and hadn’t planned an adequately simple answer.

They had only been living in Manzanita for a little over a year. The older boys knew him decently well from school, but most of the neighborhood was in the dark on who he was, and hardly anyone had seen Micah, let alone knew him. He might as well have been a ghost, only appearing in grocery stores or on the beach with Harley as occasion permitted. Harley had been delighted that Micah had finally shown some passion about something when the opportunity to be summer scout leaders was offered to them by the town activities committee.

“He was a coworker at my last job,” Harley kept the answer short. He and Micah hadn’t agreed on a story yet.

“Where’d’ya work?” Ryan pressed, his golden eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“I was a coroner.”

“What?” Ryan balked, “Micky told me that you were a prison warden!”

That had been his introduction to the boys his first day working at the high school. He had wanted to scare them. To be fair, neither of those answers were technically lies.

“I guess it’s a mystery,” Harley shrugged, stepping over the last hill that dropped into their campsite for the evening.

“What, do you guys not know how to set up tents?” Harley exclaimed suddenly. The rag-tag group had found spots to sit and chug water, not a single one of them had raised a finger to set up camp.

“Usually the leaders help us,” Bryson chirped, arms folded lazily.

Harley blinked, “uh… I think if y’all believed you were signing up for a three-day long daycare you would’ve told yer mums that you could take care of yourselves.”

The boys stared at him, the statement obviously not sinking in.

“I ain’t your mommy, and this ain’t spa day. Set up your tents yourselves, and if you don’t think you can hack it by yourself, ask for help from one of your peers. If all of you are not sure how to set up a tent, you may observe as I set one up. I will not help you,” Harley barked, “now get to it before it gets too dark for you to see what you’re doing!”

At this, the group grumbled and moved about slowly as they attempted to set up their tents. The boys who didn’t have any trouble were the farm boys and the hunters, all of whom had taken Harley’s PE class that past year. They knew he meant business.

Harley found a higher spot of ground that would make it easier to see all of the boys. It was flat and soft, right up against the base of a tree. He and Micah had scouted out the hike a week previous and picked out the best places for tents to be set up.

While the boys struggled and tripped over themselves, Harley began to set up a firepit. He did exactly as Micah had instructed him. Having grown up in the city, Harley had absolutely no nature survival skills to speak of. Micah had drilled him for an entire month on basic things like putting up a tent, building a safe fire, trail procedure, first aid, and a load of other things.

After everything he had said to encourage the boys to learn to do things for themselves, Harley was grateful that he hadn’t messed up his own tent. The consequences of a mistake now were unbearable to even contemplate.

It was dark by the time the last boy had wandered to the roaring fire. Harley carried the first evening’s meal for the lot of them, Micah carried the next two nights’ worth of food in his own bag. He was strong enough to carry everyone’s bags at once, but he had allowed Harley to carry their tent and a portion of the food so that he wouldn’t feel completely useless.

The boys gawked at how much weight Harley had carried when he pulled out the food and taught the boys how to prepare the meal with the cans they came in. He let them be impressed for a few moments before letting them fall into their separate groups of chatter. A silent buzz on his wristswitch informed him that it was time to wrap up the evening.

“Before I douse this fire, does anyone want to hear a story?” Harley asked simply, ready for an incredulous response from the boys.

“Are you kidding? A bedtime story?” Micky laughed, his brother Ryan sitting close to his side.

“We’ve heard all those dumb ghost stories that camp leaders tell, so save your breath,” Tony added to the nods of the rest of the group.

“So you don’t want to hear about the time I got attacked by bigfoot?” Harley snorted, standing up, “suite yourselves.”

“Bigfoot isn’t real!” Another boy snorted.

“You saw Bigfoot?” Ryan gasped.

“I didn’t just see him,” Harley grinned, facing Ryan, “I nearly got killed by him.”

“Oh yeah?” Micky interjected mockingly, “where’s the proof?”

Harley unzipped his jacket and rolled the sleeve underneath up to his shoulder, exposing the deep claw marks that discolored his skin in a deep scar. He had gotten the mark during his year of duty in the Pluto district of Chicago, but no-one except Micah knew that.

The boys were shocked into silence as they crowded around Harley to make sure that it was real.

“Bigfoot, you say?” someone murmured, “maybe it was a mountain lion?”

“Do mountain lions have claws this big?” Harley returned, knowing that he had the entire group hooked now.

“Tell us what happened,” Micky demanded.

“I thought you guys had heard ‘em all?” Harley reminded, “you’re too old for stories?”

“Forget that! Just tell us!” Another boy demanded.

“Alright,” Harley sat down, “commit what I say to memory, because I’m not going to repeat myself.”

The boys nodded eagerly.

“When Micah and I first moved here I took up running the trails up and down the mountainside. They got boring really quickly, so I started wandering off the path and making up my own routes.”

“It was on one of these runs, early in June of last year when I met the beast. It was raining and I was having a hard time finding my way back home. I wasn’t familiar enough with the mountainside to be sure of where I was.  I was completely and utterly alone, and not a soul knew where I was,” Harley paused for dramatic effect.

“At least, that’s what I thought.”

The boys leaned in closer.

“I was making my way down a particularly muddy slope when I heard some noises that didn’t match my own movements. I thought it was a bear, so I immediately looked around for the culprit. It had sounded like twigs snapping.”

As he spoke, a couple twigs snapped quietly outside of the ring of tents. Ryan’s head swung around, his eyes wider than dinner plates.

“I couldn’t see anything,” Harley continued without hesitating, ignoring the sound completely, as if he hadn’t heard it, “so I continued on, assuming that the rain had something to do with it. I hadn’t made it a few more feet when a small rock clocked me upside the head!”

“I fell forward and rolled down the hill a ways before finally getting back on my feet. If I had been lost before, I was definitely lost now, I was so disoriented. At this point, I was sure I was being pranked or something. My boyfriend had been threatening to get me back for all my tricks for weeks, so I thought maybe he had followed me out.”

Another twig snap. This time Harley paused, raising an eyebrow at the scared looks the younger boys were exchanging.

“So it wasn’t him- what happened?” Trey asked, his face concealed by the smoke of the fire.

“I looked around and called for him, but no one answered. He’s not the type to keep dragging something on, so I was getting pretty frustrated… until I saw it.”

The boys leaned forward again, the sounds forgotten momentarily as they listened.

“A huge print in the mud bigger than my head. I’d never seen anything like it, and I had no intention of finding out what it belonged to,” Harley rolled down his shirt-sleeve, “so I made a run for it.”

‘The mud was slick, though, and I tripped, knocking myself unconscious. When I woke up, he was standing over me, teeth bared and hand clutching my arm. He was dragging me through the mud.”

A shuffling could be heard in the forest around them, the exact location of the sound was indistinct.

“It’s breathing was loud and huffing, as if it had been running for a long time. I didn’t intend on finding out what it wanted with me, though, so I jerked out of its grip and made to escape. That’s when it grabbed my arm with its sharp claws,” Harley gripped his own arm where the scars were.

“I grabbed a rock from the ground and slammed it into its fingers and sprinted as fast as I could as soon as it had released me. It howled and hooted as it attempted to capture me again.”

The boys were growing more and more distracted by the sounds coming from the forest. The sounds of movement that were just ambiguous enough to keep them on edge without saying anything.

“I must have startled it, because I managed to get far enough away that the creature had disappeared from sight. I was bleeding profusely, however, and had to get help soon,” Harley continued, letting go of his arm.

“I slowed down after several minutes, feeling certain I had lost the monster. I needed to find my way back, but I was no longer sure what side of the mountain I was on. The only thing I knew to do was run downhill.”

“How’d you get back?” Someone whispered after a long pause.

“I ended up being on the right side of the mountain, and I eventually found a beach that I recognized… but I wonder if it followed me? I wonder if it knows the smell of my blood and wants to finish the job…” Harley paused again, “I stick to the trails now, needless to say, and I never go anywhere in the forest alone if it’s dark… this is actually the first time I’ve been in the mountains after dark since that experience.”

A loud snap echoed across the intense silence. It was undeniable now that something was out there.

“What was that?” Someone asked.

“It’s probably a squirrel” Harley laughed, “you guys tied up your food, though, right?”

They nodded.

“Just a bear,” someone murmured as if that was a more comforting thought.

“It’s late, y’all need to pretend to sleep for at least six hours before we start off again tomorrow,” Harley stood up, grabbing the jug of water he had collected to douse the fire.

“Wait, but what should we do if we run into bigfoot?” Ryan croaked, the fear dripping from his voice.

“Pray the beast doesn’t catch you… it’s a thousand times stronger than I am,” Harley murmured, pouring the water of the fire, a plume of smoke filling the air and making it hard to see. 

In the darkness, a shadow appeared behind Harley, dipping out from behind the trees and one of the boy’s tents.

A few boys screamed and ran before they even had a chance to see the creature, the rest were frozen in their spots as Harley continued to pretend to be oblivious.

“Bigfoot!” Ryan screamed, his voice cracking, finally moving and tripping backward as Harley turned slowly, the shadow grabbing him and lifting him entirely off the ground and speeding into the dark forest.

It had all happened in a few seconds, leaving the boys in a frenzy, as Harley felt himself get whisked away and carried up the tree that sheltered his tent.

“How long are we gonna let them scream like that?” Micah asked, pulling down the black handkerchief he had used as a mask for his part in the prank.

“Just a couple more minutes, then you can help me to camp,” Harley grinned at Micah, “do you have the fake blood?”

Micah had to choke a snort of laughter, “of course. How beat up do you want to be today?”

“Oooh… give me a head injury, that way they won’t be able to find the cut.”

“Got it,” Micah dumped the red liquid into Harley’s hair and spread the excess onto his own hands. He added some to his face to make it look like blood was coming out of his nose and mouth as well.

“How do I look?” Micah asked with a smile, his face partially lit by the fire that had roared back to life in the camp. 

“Like you just saved me from bigfoot,” Harley smiled, kissing Micah on the cheek.

[not-just-any-fangirl]

I just watched my friend twerk aggressively during just dance and it reminded me of your deaf!Natsu au for some reason

Twerk and Grind

Word Count; 1795

A/N; I’m sorry this took so long to get to but!! It’s here!! And I’m done school! for now lmao

So this started out in one way and then… turned into… soft grinding?? sexy party time?? Lucy’s gonna be gross and fuck on a dudes bed like true college trash? Natsu doesn’t give a shit either way lmao

Also! I’ve been reading up more on how to write ASL so hopefully that will be coing across in future pieces! I’ll prob never stop learning how to better convey Natsu’s story and the experience of deaf people/those around them, and anything y’all can say is a huge help

All of my content about Deaf Natsu can be found under the deaf natsu au tag, and the main writing pieces under deaf!natsu

Lucy stood next to Natsu, her pink lemonade cooler in one hand and a red solo cup of whatever horrible beer mix was cheapest at the liquor store the men’s soccer team had raided for their ‘We Made It To The First Round Of Finals Which Frankly No One Expected’ house party in the other. Natsu dropped the arms he had crossed over his chest at Lucy’s approach, not looking at her even as he pulled her into his side. Not that Lucy could blame him, seeing as how she too was unable to tear away from the scene before her. 

It had that kind of car-wreck feeling, the one with no ambulances but pieces of blue metal four lanes across so that people didn’t feel as bad gawking at it. It also had the same number of cell phones out to record it and post it online to last until one world leader pissed off another equally crazy one on Twitter and sent them all into a nuclear winter, but that just might be Lucy’s Current Politics 400 and the three jello shots she had done with Cana in the kitchen a half hour ago talking. 

“What in God’s name is happening here,” Lucy said flatly. Natsu took his beer from Lucy and sipped it, head cocked in confusion as he continued to watch. 

Cobra looked at her from the corner of his eye from her other side, answering her kinda-serious question just as tonelessly. 

“Loke challenged Gray to a dance contest and then this happened.”

“Okay, but why is Juvia twerking?”

“You’re the one who brought her to a frat party,” Cobra shrugged, as unhelpful as ever. 

“As if I would come to Nick’s party without at least seven people to act as a buffer,” Lucy scoffed. Lucy had reluctantly allowed the lacrosse girls to drag her out tonight, despite the fact that Nick, the captain of the men’s soccer team, was the one hosting it. And had hit on Lucy everytime they crossed paths, sometimes in front of Natsu. 

So she brought a crowd, both to piss him off and keep him at arms length. Not that most of the people that had come with Lucy had been invited, but at this point it wasn’t a surprise to see Lucy amidst a swarm of loud and energetic college students. “Why are you here anyway, don’t you always say you’d rather put your head in a viper’s mouth than go to a jock frat?”

“Laxus begged me to, one of the dicks in his advanced electrical physics class is on the team.” Cobra said. Lucy nodded like she believed him, taking a sip of her drink. 

Cobra growled something under his breath before he slipped away, leaving Lucy to consider all the ways she could stop the slowly worsening dancing in front of her. Juvia was white-girl-wasted, and was dancing like one. Which, to be fair, she was as well as Lucy. Levy was supposed to be watching her, but seeing as how she was the permanent DD/babysitter Lucy could understand not dealing with a drunk Juvia trying to impress a drunk Gray. Who was no longer in the room.

She felt the weight of Natsu’s gaze on the side of her face, turning to him with a questioning look. “She is not even on the beat.” he signed, eyebrows pinched and more confused than anything. “I can dance on the beat and I have no hearing.”

Lucy choked on her sip, whining as the fizz and vodka of her drink burned her nose. Natsu cackled, head thrown back at Lucy’s pain. She dug her elbow into his side sharply, returning the glaring pout he shot her. Rolling her eyes, Lucy gave him a gentler elbow in a different spot, allowing Natsu to pull her closer to his chest. 

“We should stop this,” Lucy signed, gesturing in the general vicinity of where Juvia was dancing with her hands on her knees, hair half covering her flushed face, hips moving in what Lucy thought was supposed to be twerking. It wasn’t that Juvia was flat, it was just that she had all the coordination of a newborn deer when she wasn’t in the water. 

“We should,” Natsu agreed, making absolutely no movement to do any such thing. 

“Or…” Lucy let her hand waver in the air from side to side, leaning more towards the door. 

“Gray can handle it,” Natsu smiled at her, bright and cheery as he shook a tightly closed fist before making a releasing motion. Lucy ignored the direct translation of one of Natsu’s many names for Gray -cold jack off. They wandered away from the crowd just in time to see Erza step into the circle and through an entire blanket over Juvia, the music changing to a pop song rather than the ten minute EDM one that Lucy was pretty sure had been put on repeat. 

Lucy smiled and waved at people she knew as they walked through the house, giggling and tapping the neck of her bottle with one her goalie, who was sitting on the lap of the redheaded scorekeeper with the eyebrow piercing and bold lipstick choices. Lucy wondered how long the coffee brown make-up would take to wash off, or if the team would be teasing Kiki about it during tomorrow’s afternoon practice.

She let Natsu lead them, her head already a little spinny and her feet not working as well as they should be. Looked like those shots were hitting full force now. They passed through the patio/shack room off the kitchen, Natsu grunting a nod at Laxus who was sitting with Freed, Bixlow, Cobra, and several people she didn’t know the names off, a couple blunts and a pipe being passed around the group. She crinkled her nose at the smell of pot, strong in the smaller room. She stuck her tongue out at Cobra’s smirk and held her middle finger behind her back at her stoner cousin as she followed Natsu up the steps that led to the second floor. 

Lucy tripped over the last step, giggling as she fell into Natsu’s chest. She beamed under his fond look, wrapping her arm around his waist and falling into step beside him. Big crowds could get a bit much for Natsu, and Lucy loved that he always wanted to bring her with him when he needed to get away. 

Lucy raised an eyebrow when Natsu led them into Nick’s room, sitting on the bed a sober Lucy couldn’t be payed to touch. Her eyebrows rose higher when Natsu locked the door, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other as she waited for Natsu to turn to her. 

“Figured we could cock block that dick and get away from the party at the same time,” Natsu grinned at her, voice low and gravelly and pulling a shiver from Lucy. 

“Why’d you wanna get away?” 

The words left her before her brain caught them, but almost-drunk Lucy didn’t care. She swung her leg subtly, watching Natsu trace the line of her shin and thigh, his eyes hooded low and a different energy from before making Lucy shiver a second time. He walked the several steps to her, hand warm and rough on her knee. His fingers shifted as he gave her a gentle squeeze, leaving trails of goosebumps in his wake. 

“You laughed when I said I could dance,” Natsu murmured, hand leaving her knee to run down her bicep, Lucy allowing him to pull her arm to him, her fingers small in his palm where they settled. He pulled her up, Lucy entranced as Natsu guided her to her feet, and then to the middle of the room. “I wanna show ya how good I can dance.”

“Okay,” Lucy breathed, not really knowing what else to do. The lighting of the room made all of Natsu’s features sharper, piercings glinting in the light from the open window, dark look in his eyes hungry and intoxicating, pink hair wild and dangerous. His hand on her back was heavy, pulling her close to him so their chests touched. Lucy leaned in even closer when his hand dropped low, squeezing her ass as Lucy pushed into his fist. They started to move side to side, swaying with the beat Lucy could feel reverberate through the floorboards and up into her bones. She knew Natsu could feel it too, his lead confident as he moved their hips together. It was lewd and dirty and hot, grinding with Natsu in the dark. 

Natsu grinned at her, sharp teeth showing off his smugness as Lucy moved her hands from his chest. She held onto one of his arms, strong bicep and tricep flexing under her fingers and making her mouth water, other holding onto the back of his neck as she pulled herself even closer to him. 

“Told ya I could dance,” Natsu purred. 

“I like your voice,” Lucy said, lost as she stared into his emerald eyes and felt his body move against hers to the pounding bass and drums of the music. Natsu blinked at the random comment, grin soft as he leaned down and brushed his nose against hers. 

“I like your face,” he said, gripping her ass even tighter and leading her against his steady rolls, thick thigh slipping between her own. She kissed him, unable to hold back any longer. The hand on his neck moved higher and pushing against the grain of his spikes, hairs soft between her fingers. His tongue brushed on her lower lip, eagerly moving against her own after she let him in. Natsu pushed into her, holding Lucy tight despite leaning over her, making her hold her weight to stop from falling. Lucy trusted him though, and clung to him as she ground against the growing hardness she felt forming where their hips met. 

“You keep this up and I’m gonna have to fuck you in this gross frat house,” Lucy groaned, pulling back and holding Natsu’s wolfish gaze. She bit her lip, whine caught in her throat when Natsu lifted her leg to hook on his hip, crushing them together, all pretense of dancing gone. 

“You’re so hot when you dirty talk,” Natsu growled. He picked her up, Lucy squeaking at the sudden lift but quickly readjusting. She claimed Natsu’s mouth in a heated kiss, burying both hands in his hair as he carried her to Nick’s bed. His hand slipped under the short hem of her jean shorts, riding the denim high and tight against her core as he groped her ass. 

At least Nick’s bed was going to be getting a decent fuck tonight. Especially since Natsu was a giver in the sack.