#since the second week of class. i have been doing the absolute bare minimum to keep my head above water and get my assignments done

[fingertipsmp3]

Just sent the email withdrawing from my course and now I’m nervous lol

[love-that-we-were-in]

Call An Ambulance... But Not For Me

Luke teaches Percy to drive. Well, kind of.

A/N: this is just some silly goofy while i work through writers block. i MIGHT come back to it. also it's a mortal au so there's that :)

Luke doesn’t know how he got dragged into this. Well, he does. It was very simple actually - he needed money, Annabeth’s friend had a reputation no one wanted to deal with when it came to putting him behind the wheel and a third secret motive he refuses to acknowledge that happened to be back in town for the first time all year. 

He’s not nervous. 

There’s nothing to worry about with Percy Jackson. He’s known the kid since he was twelve, sitting on the floor outside the classroom when there was a perfectly good chair next to him. He’s a good kid – maybe not the brightest or most polite – but good. A great friend, for sure, or Annabeth wouldn’t still be attached. Luke knows what Percy can be like and he knows his car will be perfectly safe, even if he’s in the passenger seat for once. 

“We’re just going to take it slow,” is the first thing he tells Percy, even before the kid has his seatbelt on. “I want you to talk me through everything on the console.”

“Luke, I’ve been behind the wheel before,” Percy laughs, but he does as asked. Indicator, wipers, handbrake. Two and ten. Accelerate, brake, clutch. He knows it all. “Am I allowed to drive now?”

“I had to be sure, okay.”

Percy looks at him like he knows exactly why he’s here. He forgets, sometimes, that they’ve grown up while he’s become an adult. Annabeth and Percy. They’ve learnt more while he’s been gone, become more if he listens to the rumor mill (he’s waiting for Annabeth to tell him herself) and Percy’s always been people-focused. Luke wouldn’t be shocked if the kid knew more about him than anyone.

“I’m not going to crash your car.” Percy turns the ignition on, finally. “Have you got any CDs?” 

“Drive in silence. No distractions.” 

It goes well. He was expecting worse, the way everyone was talking about Percy’s history in his drivers ed class. But it’s fine. They stop at red lights and go at green. He checks his mirrors. He goes the speed limit – there’s moments where Luke can see him itching to press the pedal down further, to go faster, but he doesn’t so it’s a win – and they can make conversation while he does it all. 

Why this was such a big deal to Sally and Annabeth, he doesn’t know. The kid is a fine driver. Luke has no doubt he’ll pass his test (or the actual driving part at least) and he’s only slightly put out that he won’t have to do it a few more times to get Percy up to scratch. 

“Can you parallel park yet?” 

“Do I look like I can parallel park?” Percy answers and it’s the same tone Luke’s heard him use a million times before, the one that says ‘I absolutely did that thing I’m in trouble for but you can’t prove it', so he waits. “I’ve managed it a couple times, yeah.” 

“Wanna give it a go now?” 

They’re almost at Percy’s, the other end of town from where they started, and they’re both safe and calm. Some would call that a huge success. He’s pretty sure Annabeth will call it the bare minimum. They’re pretty much the same thing. 

Luke relaxes into the passenger seat as Percy pulls in front of an empty space. The road is practically empty, he can see maybe three people on the street total. It’s a perfect time to parallel park. He can happily tell Sally that her son will pass his test in a few weeks and pretend it doesn’t suck that he won’t have an excuse to swing by the Jacksons house every week.

It takes him a second to notice Percy mumbling to himself. 

“You okay, buddy?” 

Percy nods and it’s the first time Luke has really seen him concentrate on what he’s doing. There’s an intensity he doesn’t normally carry, a set to his shoulders and fingers tight on the wheel, and Luke sits up a little more. He’s not worried, not after how smooth the drive so far has been, but he’ll match Percy’s energy a little bit more. 

He thinks, somewhere in the back of his mind, that if he’d let the boy play music, he would’ve turnt it down right now. 

“You’ve got time, Percy,” is what he says instead of giving advice. Honestly, he’s not sure what advice he could give until the kid told him what he was nervous about exactly. He’s not actually a driving instructor after all. “Take a breath.” 

He does. 

And another. 

“I’m going to start now.” Percy says and Luke nods. Then he says “okay” because he realizes Percy is looking determinedly at the windshield. 

Forward. Turn the wheel. Reverse. Turn the wheel. 

Luke watches as he makes every move, breathing deeply with each one. He sits in silence, at ease. Finally, finally, Percy starts to relax as he slowly, so slowly, inches his way into the space. A couple more minutes and he’ll be home free. 

Maybe Luke can offer to help him master his parking instead of calling it quits completely. 

Then, just as Percy lets out all of his breath, calmer all of a sudden, he presses down on the accelerator. Just slightly too much. 

A jolt (the hood bashes against the door of another car), the sound of a horn (it takes Luke a moment to realise it’s Percy who’s pressing it, holding it down with his elbow and glaring, and another moment to slap his arm and make it stop) and he squints.

“Did you just crash into your sister?” 

Percy gulps. “Do you think she’ll know it was me if we just leave?” 

Luke sighs. 

“Lesson number two. What to do when you get into an accident.”

[donnerpartyofone]

I have a new ultimate intellectual crush, which is great timing frankly because I'm having that Don't Meet Your Heroes experience with the old one (it's fine, it's a good lesson to learn, I still love their work, but etc). I don't know if I have the strength to describe all the details but I've entered this bizarre moment where I'm realizing on my own that there are complex esoteric connections between several of my obsessions that at first appeared to have nothing to do with one another, and now they all keep surfacing together in the form of freaky synchronicities, one of which is meeting this scholar who I originally reached out to about this one question I came up with--and then I quickly found out that like ALL of her work addresses ALL of the things I'm fixating on, and my totally feral new hypotheses about the ties that bind them are all foregone conclusions for this broad because she has been studying and publishing on them for decades.

Her academic, non-fictional work reads almost like a William Gibson novel, full of elite scientists, intelligence agents, entrepreneurs who are so rich as to be invisible and infinitely powerful, civilians who have stumbled into reality-rending experiences, and so on...and she's able to do this work because of her extraordinary native intelligence and extreme commitment to knowledge. The second topic I brought to her, that I thought was so out-there in all my ignorance, is something she's been studying since she was fucking 16. 16! Imagine having that kind of grasp of purpose as a child? (Don't tell me if you can imagine this, I don't need the agita)

I'm constantly aware of how behind I am. College was kind of wasted on me because I had no idea what I wanted, and only a little idea of what interested me (as far as professional and academic fields go), and for my lack of motivation I have many excuses, the first and foremost of which is depression. Whether we suffer it or not, we all know that depression is destructive: It can sabotage relationships, compel self-harm, cause you to miss opportunities, and all sorts of other bad stuff that comes from believing in your own hopelessness. What they don't usually tell you about depression is that feeling bad is enormously time-consuming. Feeling bad is an involved, exhausting, gas-guzzling activity that is mutually exclusive with many other activities. Time that I could have spent going to class, working, learning, and generally exploring the world had to be spent flat on my back in the dark instead, for hours, days, weeks at a time. Talking, eating, and breathing without actively forcing it all went by the wayside. There was absolutely no pushing through it. Whatever energy I could possibly set aside was eventually put into graduating with what was considered the bare minimum of effort for anybody else. Today I can vividly imagine the great things I would do with four years of undergrad (if I had the room in my life again for school), and beyond. But I didn't do them then, because the time I needed to figure out my interests and abilities had to be spent feeling terrible.

Of course, I'm overstating things a little bit, because there exist people who metabolize pain into energy for artistic expression, or who become workaholics when pain prevents them from cultivating community or taking care of themselves. One of my theories about why I'm not one of those people is that for most of my life, I was desperate to be in a relationship. I'm sure there's something freudian going on there; you know, I was rejected by my mother, I had no sense of belonging, I was obsessed with finding someone whose desire for me would make me feel protected. And, if you've ever seen any movies or TV shows about the mafia, you know that the need for protection is a great way to turn into a magnet for bullies. Which is exactly what happened from the moment I was old enough to make my own friends, and I only learned what a healthy relationship was after I'd been through so much harrowing bullshit that I decided the relationship fantasy could not be a goal anymore. I could not control for that. I had to live as if I might be the only person in my life from then on, and I'm sure that helped me meet my now-husband on more egalitarian terms.

Some of us are more inclined to submission and/or codependence than others, but I do think that there is something in the basic-issue human psychological template that helplessly fetishizes authority. It's like we're all just trying to replace our parents; this has become a stereotype of romantic relationships (thanks again, Freud), but I think you actually see it everywhere--like, I think that's where we get all this neurotic purity testing of politicians on the left. We can't just evaluate candidates for what their best practical uses could be, we have to treat them like they're trying to date our mom, they need to be no less than our heroes OR ELSE. I bet you didn't think that I was about to drag Whitley Strieber's classic alien abduction memoir Communion into this, but he makes a lot of really surprising observations like this one: Many abductees report seeing, among all the anonymous drones, one identifiably specific visitor, often seemingly of the opposite sex, who cultivates a sort of personal relationship with the victim. Strieber describes how, in his experience, he noticed himself developing personal feelings toward the feminine, mantis-like creature who often appeared and tried (fruitlessly) to alleviate his fear. His feelings amounted to an overpowering awe that gave way to an ingratiating impulse, a compulsion to please through submission, something akin to religious love. He wondered if his feelings were genuine and personal, or if they were resultant of an instinctive human reaction to power. Maybe humans naturally love demonstrations of extreme (apparently authentic) superiority, maybe "love" is sometimes a subconsciously obedient, self-sacrificing reaction to dominance; to someone who comes to instate authority, predictability, and offers the possibility of being acknowledged meaningfully by someone better-than. Maybe this is the secret to the hero-seeking urge. And also to cults of personality, which I will avoid discussing now, but I'm sure you can imagine what I was about to say.

Anyway. I find myself obsessing over my new hero, and my tantalizing level of contact with her (first when I asked her advice on a personal project, and now that I'm attending a stunning online lecture series during which I have emailed with her a bit but that's about to end, sob). Fortunately for both of us I'm aware that, while she has been generous in responding to my questions, which are all well-trod territory for her, we're not in danger of becoming BFFs. I have nothing to offer her beyond my respectful attention to her amazing work. The best thing I can possibly hope for, even though I've lost half a lifetime already to depression and submission, is that my lucky exposure to her will inspire me to do something great down the line.

[chopper-witch]

This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks now. Please take it while I finish a one-shot. 

Gender-neutral reader!!!

Mad inappropriate perv!eddie thought coming through (throwing some modern and college while I’m at it) (sorry if you hate influencers of any kind idc it’s my job to deal with them).

I went to an art college… there were sometimes sessions on Fridays (no classes Fridays, those were makeup/studio/project/etc days) where people would come to pose and students could draw. There were never nude people in classes, even if the class was about people and anatomy (a lot of bone drawings and clothed posing though) for privacy and safety reasons. 

(I am altering some of how this worked, mostly how the models actually came in and posing and such).

There were extremely strict rules since these people were naked or mostly though. No device that could take photos. None. Just you and your mediums of choice unless that medium is digital. Then absolutely not. Also, if you were not there when doors closed, you were not allowed in. You cannot leave during.

Now Eddie, dear Eddie. He considered sound design. Maybe performing arts. Film and TV sounds cool. But after years of drawing character sheets and scenes from campaigns, he chooses sequential art (comic books, basically. Or film storyboarding/concepting or video game storyboarding/concepting but most common job is comics and graphic novels).

He hears about one of these drawing sessions. Not by checking his email that is full of information about what’s available that week, but because his Life Drawing I professor mentions it (this would be like his sophomore or junior year). He is kind of mad that no one told him before, but there was really no reason to. Plus, he would have known if he checked his fucking email.

He’s late the first time. But they have four a quarter, so it’s fine. He’ll just come the second time. He is late again, though.

Third time he gets there early. Puts his phone away like everyone else and finds a seat a little bit more towards the far edge of the circle. He doesn’t want other people to see his drawing. Plus, he’s tall. He can see over others.

There is a chair like you see at a classic psych’s office set up, and he is wondering what is happening today. So is most of the room, but at this point in the quarter, it is mostly people who have been at least once.

The door to the room shuts.

One of the professors in charge reminds everyone of the various rules. You are allowed to move around the room. You are allowed to come as close as the lines on the floor. Please keep talking to a minimum. Do not distract the model. Do not say or do anything inappropriate. Do not try to get the model’s number or instagram handle or whatsapp or whatever you kids are using now. Don’t try to get the model’s name. They are here to help with your education.

It’s just one model today. And only two poses. Midterms were last week and finals are ridiculously soon after. So take your time. Breathe. Focus on this.

The professor goes to another door Eddie didn’t see and opens it. He whispers something and out comes you, wearing a robe. He and everyone else stare (he checks to make sure it isn’t weird to stare and apparently it’s normal) as you walk over to the couch-chair thing. Before you sit, however, you remove the robe and drape it over the head of the chair. 

Now he is definitely staring. 

Staring intently as you lie down completely nude, carefully leaning on your right arm with a grin. 

“Draw me like one of your french girls,” you tease once you’ve fully positioned yourself into nearly the same pose.

But your hips are positioned differently, head cocked differently, back curved more. Forces people to have to draw what they see even more, not what they think they see (as he has heard thousands of times from all his drawing professors). That line from you was intentional to get people in their heads.

It’s not the line that gets in his head though. It’s you. He can barely draw. He glances around several times to see if anyone else is struggling and while he sees a few heated faces and adjusting of pants, everyone is still doing what they came to do. Some are even right up to that line two feet away, getting angles of your body he wishes he could get. But there’s just no way he could. Not if he doesn’t want to be that person.

At about the halfway point, you switch poses.

On your stomach, head propped up on hands, elbows bent to also left your chest off the chair. Your feet are by the head, up and crossed. Like some school girl listening to her best friend. But then you push your hips into that chair just a little more and your back curves and the pose morphs enough that he can see several more experienced life artists nodding in interest at the prospect of new curves and lines and shadows.

Somehow he gets through the two-hour session without creaming his fucking pants.

His sketchpad is almost entirely clean as well.

He breaks a rule. He finds the model later. He finds you. On accident. Entirely. He swears. A friend he made freshman shares a post of yours on Instagram. Apparently, you are a local influencer. Super sweet. It’s sickly sweet as he scrolls. Small business this, small business that. A video labeled “forcing guilt over fast fashion is classist” that he watches that talks about how if you have the money, there is no reason not to be buying ethical fashion but to be guilting people who don’t is irresponsible when the onus is on the businesses themselves. But there are hundreds of photos and videos of you across town. He hits follow. You are now. the only person he is following that isn’t a band he likes or a franchise he likes or one of his friends. But other students follow you, so what’s the big deal?

He puts notifications on so he can see when you post.

Every post is a jolt of serotonin combined with a rush of arousal. And he finds himself going out more over the next three weeks, trying out the places you suggest and seeing if he might see you again.

And the lives? When he can see you are at a restaurant just three blocks down?

Yeah. He takes a break from his work just to see if he can get a glimpse of you. But you are usually gone by the time he can get himself dressed and presentable and not hard as hell.

He goes again on Week 9, hoping you will be there (he doesn’t understand why it is weeks 2, 4, 6, and 9 rather than 2, 4, 6 and 8. He doesn’t want to wait 3 weeks). It’s rare for models to come twice in a row, another student mentions. But you’ve come a few times over the past couple of years, and every time is so much fun. 

“They’re really good at giving us unique poses to draw. And super nice. They’ll sometimes repost our work if we tag them, even though the professors don’t want us to follow and all that,” the student finishes with.

The door shuts. The professor opens the other door.

You’re back.

[kiyosamu]

remember.

----♡----

pairing: rintaro suna x female reader.

genre: yandere, dark, light romance. // one shot, 4k words.

synopsis: abusive relationships can seem impossible to leave. when you open up to a classmate, your life takes a dramatic turn in the best and worst ways imaginable.

content warnings: assault, domestic abuse (not from suna), descriptions of violence, yandere themes.

----♡----

“hey, kid.” suna’s voice caught your attention as you passed by him in the university corridor. he was quiet, only speaking loud enough for you to hear right as you were walking by.

“hey, rintaro.” you stopped for a moment, refusing to look up at the tall man towering over you.

“i haven’t seen you in a while. everything okay?” he leaned against the wall and clutched a textbook to his chest. “you haven’t even been to class. kinda been missing my project partner.”

“you got my work though, right?” you asked him, partially covering your face with your hair. “i emailed it to you.”

“i did.”

“okay… good.” you cleared your throat, awkwardly shuffling and offering a suspiciously sudden goodbye.

“hey, wait-" suna grabbed your wrist to keep you from leaving. the small amount of pressure more than enough on your deep bruise to make you wince.

suna noticed your pained expression and immediately let go, stepping back.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just wanted to ask you if-“

“it’s okay!” you interrupted, knowing you’d already spoken to him for too long. you needed to get out of there before anyone noticed. “you didn’t hurt me. sorry, i have to go. bye!”

your behaviour was erratic. your speech was rushed; forced and strained with every word as you tried your best to appear normal.

unfortunately it was much harder to pretend everything was okay than you’d originally thought it’d be.

you quickly turned and headed down the hallway to drop off the assignments to your other professor. the last one you’d have to see for the day before heading home. you were almost there. so close you might not even run into him.

you’d hoped, anyway.

----♡----

after seeing your professor, you walked out into the fresh evening air. the cold stinging your cheeks and the wind pushing your hair out of your face.

your cheeks burned from the freezing air, but it was your black eye was that hurt the most.

“i’m sorry, i just lost my temper.” his words echoed in your head, “you shouldn’t have pissed me off.”

you nodded, essentially agreeing with him. it’s true, if he didn’t get mad, he wouldn’t have hit you. and why was he mad? because of something you did. so really, it was your own fault.

you were the one apologizing to him that night. doing anything you could to make it up to him. all of this with a deep purple bruise forming on your face.

when he finally left your dorm and went back to his, you were mentally exhausted. you fell asleep and woke up right before your second class of the day.

he had started forcing you to miss classes, to do everything at home and only go in to submit your work. this was for two reasons.

the first, you could spend more time with him due to your schedules. if yours was freed then you’d have more time together.

the second was to stop you from talking to other men. completely.

...and then he found out suna was your lab partner.

“i don’t want you working with him.”

“i have to. the professor is the one who chooses.”

“then work from home and submit the stuff online. that guy is a manipulator. he’s dangerous and will take advantage of you. i just know it.”

you’d never gotten that type of vibe from suna, but you obeyed your boyfriend because you didn’t want to know what would happen if you didn’t.

secretly, though, you missed class. you missed working with him. laughing, getting to know each other. he’d become a good friend over the past year and since you had the same majors, you two shared quite a few classes.

he was calm. funny and quiet, but definitely not timid. his energy made him come off tough, but not scary. if anything, he made you feel… safe.

just for those few hours you had together.

and whenever class would end, you found yourself missing that feeling.

----♡----

“i have to go to class tomorrow.” you said, refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend who’d invited himself over to your dorm.

just like he does every. single. night.

“why? you gonna go talk to that suna guy?” he approached you, giving you a terrifying smile that you know wasn’t coming from a place of happiness.

“yuji… please.” your words were barely a whisper when you felt his fingers wrap around your throat. “my professor told me i need to start going. my grades are falling behind.”

his fingers tapped rhythmically against your skin. dancing skillfully as he toyed with the idea of choking you. you held your breath, expecting the worst.

“you should try harder.” he growled, digging his fingertips into your neck and you clenched your eyes closed. “get your grades back up so you don’t have to spend any more time with that guy.”

“okay, okay!” you grabbed onto his wrist and his eyes widened. “i will! i’ll get my grades up so i don’t need to see him anymore.”

“good girl.” he smiled, the evil expression he’d previously worn had melted away into a false image of a kind man. “always listening so well for me.”

yuji leaned in and kissed you. you kissed back, barely, but just enough for him to be satisfied and leave you alone.

“time for me to go.” he sighed as he heard the dorm advisor do a final walk through to knock on the doors and let the students know it was time for guests to leave.

“see you tomorrow?” he asked, tilting your chin up to look at him.

“sure…” you whispered. you trembled under his touch and wanted nothing more than for him to leave your sight.

“good. it’s a date.” he said happily and gave you another kiss, practically skipping down the hallway back to his own room.

you shut and locked your door, desperately wishing that was the last time you’d ever have to see him.

----♡----

“well, well, well.” suna cooed as you took your seat next to him. “as i live and breathe, i never thought i’d see the day. you finally made it to class.”

you nodded and pulled out your books.

“had to. my grades are slipping.” you sighed, looking around at the science classroom. “what are we doing today?”

“lab day.” suna said as he nudged an instruction sheet towards you. “should we put on our coats and get to it?”

“okay...”

you started to have an internal panic attack. your wrists were as bruised as the black eye you were hiding behind your hair.

suna stepped away to get your lab coats.

this would all be visible, and you didn’t want suna (or anyone) to see any of it.

you nervously approached your professor and she looked up at you with a disinterested stare.

“ma’am, i need to be excused from class today.”

“absolutely not.” she scoffed, “unless you want to fail my class, which i know you can’t afford to do, you’ll stay and do your lab.”

you opened your mouth to reply but she kept speaking.

“go put up your hair, roll up your sleeves and get your lab coat on. you should be thankful you have such a competent partner.” she crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair, “actually, i think the two of you should spend some time together. he’s my top student and you definitely need some tutoring.”

“i don’t think that’s necessary-“

“mr. suna, come up here please.”

suna walked up with a confused look, unsure as to why he was being brought in to the conversation.

“something i can help with?” he asked.

“yes,” the professor smiled, “i’d like the two of you to do tutoring sessions a minimum of twice a week, an hour each time. could you do that?”

“oh, sure. i don’t mind.” he smiled, “was that all? we should get to our assignment.”

you felt backed in to a wall. of course you were okay with this, you enjoyed spending time with suna.

unfortunately, you were terrified of the repercussions.

even worse, there was nothing you could do about it.

when you got back to your table, you put your hair up and silently thought of a plan. keep your head down, don’t make eye contact. maybe he wouldn’t notice.

you rolled up your sleeves and put on your white coat. it was barely long enough to hit your wrists, but did a decent job of hiding the bruises.

the first half of the lab went well. suna explained things in a way that made it easy to comprehend and you were genuinely enjoying yourself.

until you completely forgot.

you began to pour the green liquid into the tube. suna was writing his lab report when he looked up and noticed your mistake.

“oh, hey,” he stood up, putting his hand over yours to tilt the container back up. “you need to pour it slower, like this.”

when it started to pour just as he’d wanted, he let go and you found yourself missing the brief comfort of his touch.

“good job! you did it.” suna smiled and you looked up at him with an excited expression. finally. finally you were getting something right.

when the two of you made eye contact, his smile immediately dropped into a look of concern.

“what happened to your eye?”

“oh,” you stepped back, covering it with your hand. “i fell.”

suna carefully held onto your wrist and you winced in pain. his intentions were to move your hand away from your eye, but he took immediate notice of your reaction and pushed your sleeve down.

the bruises in the shape of fingerprints stained your skin a deep purple.

“what about here?” he stepped closer. you tried to read his expression but he looked completely emotionless.

“from the same fall, i’m just clumsy.”

“and your neck?”

suna pushed back your lab coat to see the same fingerprint bruises scattered around your neck.

you were suddenly thankful you’d chosen the table in the far back end of the classroom. nobody was ever watching.

“yeah.” you said, practically a whisper. “i’m just really clumsy.”

suna leaned down and looked into your eyes.

“why don’t i believe you?”

“five more minutes!” the professor called, interrupting your intense conversation and the two of you snapped back into action.

you finished your lab report and quickly packed up your stuff before rushing out the classroom door.

suna followed closely behind.

“it’s your boyfriend, isn’t it?”

you stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to look at him. suna’s expression was no longer emotionless. he was angry.

“okay,” you sighed, grabbing his wrist to pull him to a secluded space outside. the two of you sat down under a large tree, away from everyone else.

“yuji gets upset with me and… hurts me… sometimes.” you choked out. “i haven’t told anyone because i’m scared of what he’ll do to me. i haven’t left him because i’m scared of him. i’m stuck.”

you hadn’t said these words out loud to anyone, ever, and the way they were flowing so freely had you crying before you were even aware of it.

“please don’t tell anyo-“

“i’ll take care of it.”

you looked up at him. suna looked completely calm, his voice smooth and gaze held on you.

“what do you mean?”

suna stood up and ran his hands through his hair.

“i mean i’ll take care of it.” he smiled, “see you tomorrow afternoon for tutoring?”

“wait, suna-“

“later!” he gave you a passive wave before walking back towards the university building.

----♡----

that evening you waited for yuji to come by your dorm, but he never did.

you waited for him to call you, but he didn’t.

you worried about what suna had meant. maybe he was going to talk to him, maybe even threaten him. you’d hoped he wouldn’t do that, but you really didn’t know what he was capable of.

surely the rumours about him couldn’t be true. an honour's chemistry major being involved in a more sinister, underground group that nobody even knew if it was real or made up?

he was too nice. there was no way.

----♡----

after class you headed back to your dorm to get ready for your evening. suna had asked you to meet him under the same tree from the day before. around 7pm.

you debated on calling yuji, but ultimately decided against it. maybe he’d come to his senses. maybe he was remorseful, and just wanted to move on. to leave you alone and pretend your relationship never happened.

that was what you wished for the most.

----♡----

you stepped out into the cold evening air. the wind blowing softly and brushing the hair out of your face.

you clutched your books to your chest and took a short cut through the back fields separating the dorms from the main university campus.

you checked your phone, you were early. suna would be there in about 15 minutes.

you reached down to grab your phone when it was immediately snatched from your hands.

“you did this, didn’t you?” a familiar voice snapped at you. you glanced up to see yuji, sporting a similar black eye and a bandaged cut on his cheek.

“i- no, of course not!”

he rolled his eyes at your reply, clearly not willing to listen to a word you were saying. yuji grabbed your wrists, forcing you to drop your books and pushed you against the back wall of the university.

“you did. tell me right now. everything you said. who you said it to. and why.” the look in his eyes was horrifying. scarier than any other look he’s given you before.

this made it seem like his previous bouts of anger were nothing but minor inconveniences.

“i didn’t-“

yuji pulled back, immediately hitting your chin with a hard punch that knocked your head back into the concrete wall.

“try again.”

your vision was hazy. mind blurring memories together and you couldn’t even form a proper sentence.

you felt a warm, wet sensation cascading down the back of your neck and were immediately soothed by the feeling. the warmth was comfortable, even though you didn’t know what it was from.

yuji’s hand wrapped around your throat and he pressed his forehead to yours. his fingers dug roughly into your windpipe, causing you to choke out the remaining air in your lungs. you felt yourself get sleepy, closing your eyes and letting darkness overtake you as your body went limp.

----♡----

“hey, wake up.”

snapping fingers in your face had you looking around curiously. you couldn’t focus on your surroundings. it was unclear who was with you, unclear what was happening around you, and unclear why you were there.

the sounds of multiple men. grunting, panting. speaking quietly between deep breaths and harsh exertion.

what were they doing?

“hey.” the fingers snapped in front of your face again.

“what…” was all you could manage to say. your body felt heavy. weak. you were just so tired. all you wanted to do was fall asleep. you submitted to the exhaustion, closing your eyes again.

“don’t go to sleep.” a soothing voice lifted the back of your neck, pressing something soft against your head. “stay awake and listen to me.”

“ya like beatin’ up girls, huh?”

whack

“wanna put a girl half your size in the hospital, for what? to feel like more of a man?”

whack

“a real man would never hit a woman.”

whack

“a real man would beat the shit out of losers who do hit women, right ‘tsum?”

“right. maybe we’ll even put him in the hospital.”

whack

whack

“oh, he’s gonna be there once we’re done.”

you finally recognized the last voice. it was suna.

he spoke again, his voice raspy and dark but still audible from where you were.

“i hope to fucking god you didn’t hurt her so badly that she’s knocked out…” suna trailed off and let out a small chuckle. “because there’s nothing i want more than for her to hear you cry like a little bitch when this blade goes right…”

the sound of yuji’s sudden scream was immediately muffled by what you were sure was the hand of the other man.

“…through you.”

your eyes widened and you were starting to understand what was happening.

all you could feel around you was danger.

you started to hyperventilate. panic was taking over.

“focus on me. come on, we need to get out of here.”

“who…” your head started to hurt now. badly.

“my name is osamu.” he bent down and cradled you in his arms, bringing you close to his chest and picking you up bridal style. “hold on to me if you can.”

“i’m scared…” you whispered.

“i know.” he murmured, carrying you away from the scene and back through the field. “i’ll keep you safe. we need to go to the hospital.”

“what about…”

“the only thing you need to worry about is stayin’ awake right now, okay? it’ll all be okay.” osamu’s voice was soothing. his body was warm and his strong arms supported your body in a way that made you never want to leave his hold.

you gave him a weak nod. even if you wanted to get away, you couldn’t. so you decided to trust in this man and hope for the best.

----♡----

“hey, sweetheart.” the calm voice of a nurse slowly woke you up. “you’re finally awake.”

“where…” you choked out, your throat was dry and you could barely make out where you were. it was all so… confusing.

“you’re in the hospital.” she said as she stood on her tiptoes to change the fluids on your iv pole. “you were assaulted. your injuries aren’t good but you’ll make a full recovery.”

the nurse leaned back down and held onto your hand. “you have a real knight in shining armour, you know. your boyfriend hasn’t left your side since you were admitted. he’s going to be so happy when he finds out you woke up.”

boyfriend?

your heart started to race at the thought of yuji coming in. you looked around, preparing for the worst when you heard footsteps enter the room.

“hey, sleepyhead.”

“speak of the devil.” the nurse smiled, giving your hand a squeeze. “i’ll let you two have some privacy. please press the call button if you need anything, i’ll come back and check on you soon.”

the footsteps grew closer and you heard the squeak of a chair being pulled up next to your bed. you opened your eyes to see suna giving you a compassionate smile.

“rintaro?” you whispered, “what are you doing here?”

“making sure you’re okay.” he crossed his arms, “been here since you were admitted.”

you tried your hardest to remember even coming to the hospital, but you just couldn’t. everything was gone after your head hit that wall.

“what… happened?” you asked, your eyes pleading for him to be honest.

“someone attacked you and your boyfriend.” suna leaned in, “do you not remember anything?”

“i remember yuji being upset with me…” you blinked, your mind working as hard as it could to remember something of importance. “my head hit the wall and it’s kind of fuzzy after that.”

“i see.” suna nodded.

“wait, how did you know i was in here?”

“some people mentioned an attack on campus. i got worried when you were late for our study session, and when your phone rang and you didn’t answer i felt like something was up.” he shrugged, taking a moment to think of his next words. “i called the hospital and asked if you were here, and then came right over when they confirmed it.”

“oh. okay…” you went to scratch an itch on your scalp and were met with searing pain at the slightest bit of pressure. “ow!”

“careful.” he smiled, taking your hand away from your head. “it’s gonna be sore for a while.”

“yeah…” you trailed off, trying to make sense of the situation. “what happened to yuji?”

“why do you care?”

“huh?” you glanced at suna who’s expression had turned sour.

“why do you care about what happened to him? he could've killed you.”

“i just wanted to know if he…” your voice was shaky and you tried to compose yourself. “if there was a possibility of him coming after me again.”

“not a single chance.” suna leaned over the railing of the hospital bed and took your hand. “besides, even if there was, i won’t let anything happen to you.”

----♡----

you’d found out yuji had suffered from severe injuries almost taking his life. he was beaten, stabbed, and his spinal cord suffered so much damage he was permanently paralyzed from the waist down.

while you were relieved the abuse would be over, you constantly wondered who had assaulted him.

you remembered telling suna and him saying he’d take care of it, surely that wasn’t him, right? there was no way suna could do something like that.

----♡----

months went by while you recovered from your injuries. you’d been discharged from the hospital after 3 weeks, and suna had stuck by your side every day.

“i’m happy to say you’ve essentially made a full recovery.” the doctor smiled, shaking your hand. “i’m so proud of your progress. you’re truly a walking miracle.”

“what about my memory?” you asked, “when will i remember what happened?”

“oh, you might not ever remember. you hit your head hard and from what we gather, you were unconscious.” the doctor stood up, clutching his clip board before walking out. “it’s probably for the best that you don’t remember what happened. you should focus on moving on, now. take care.”

----♡----

“well, should we celebrate?” suna asked as you walked out of the hospital together. you stopped, causing him to turn and look down at you. “what’s up?”

“i just wanted to say thank you…” you said, feeling your face getting hot. “i don’t think i could’ve done this without you.”

“you could’ve. you’re the strongest person i’ve ever met.” he leaned down, brushing the hair out of your face. the same hair that used to cover the deep bruises, now showing your true complexion. “and the most beautiful.”

you felt your heart flutter at his sudden compliment. suna’s hands found your waist and you instinctively draped your arms over his shoulders.

“you really mean that?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“of course i do.” he smiled, leaning in to give you the long awaited kiss the two of you had been dying for. his lips were soft and you melted into his arms. he pulled away, resting his forehead on yours. “beautiful in every possible way.”

you felt tears well up as you were being complimented. the sweetest, kindest, most handsome man touching you so delicately and speaking to you with nothing but respect.

you'd completely fallen in love with him, and it was everything you ever could’ve asked for.

----♡----

a few weeks after the two of you made it official, your honeymoon phase was in full force. you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. you were experiencing your first true relationship that made you feel loved and you cherished at every moment.

one evening, you decided to go to suna’s dorm to surprise him.

knock knock

“rintaro?” you called out, opening the door to let yourself in. “are you home?”

“in here, baby.” he replied from the kitchen. he was sharing an apartment style dorm with two other men, but you hadn’t met them yet. they weren’t ever there when you were.

“we finally get to meet your girl, huh?” one of them cooed as you walked in. he had dyed blonde hair and smirked at you as you walked by. “damn, she’s a looker, huh ‘samu?”

samu… why did that sound familiar?

“don’t be such a pig.” the other boy replied. you realized they were twins when he stood up and walked over to you. he smiled, holding out his hand. “nice to meet ya, i’m osamu.”

osamu.

no.

“my name is osamu…”

it couldn’t be.

“…hold on to me if you can.”

no, no, no.

the memories of the night of the assault came flooding back to you.

it only took a moment to realize...

...it wasn’t a random assault at all.

[let-them-read-fics]

Blackpink HC / One Shots: Enemies to Lovers, College AU (2/2)

Requested: Yes

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering, Rivalry, Fluff

A/N: Hey everyone! This is the second half of the request, featuring Rosé and Lisa. If you want to see the first part, with Jisoo and Jennie, click the link below. I hope you enjoy!

Click for Jisoo and Jennie

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Rosé

Park Chaeyoung: The girl who hung with the wrong crowd.

Your problem lied more so with the people she associated with than her herself. You couldn't wrap your head around why such a kind person like her would spend time with the class clowns and bullies, and to make matters worse, she would stick up for them as well.

She spent most of her days in either the art or music room, creating the masterpieces that her brain came up with.

But as soon as school was over, she'd be hanging out with them again and getting into trouble. For instance, because of her talents, they would invite her to go with them and graffiti various hot spots around town. She never vandalized any monuments or landmarks of importance -- she typically stuck to bridges or abandoned buildings -- but after getting caught with them multiple times, it was inevitable for her to be held accountable.

She was given a week's detention to make up for her actions

You, coincidentally, had a teacher that absolutely loathed you for no reason at all. No matter how good of a student you were for him, he didn't care; he had a vendetta against you for some reason, and he patiently waited for the opportunity to ruin your day.

You came in literally 10 seconds after the bell rang, putting the breakfast sandwich you stopped to get on the way into your mouth so you could open the door. He was standing at the front with a smug grin on his face, and you already knew what was coming.

You were also given an ungodly sentence of a week's detention.

Turning Point

"If I see you on your phones, I'm taking them." The monitor informs before sitting at the desk, reclining in the chair and putting his feet up soon after. You sigh and lean back in your seat, attempting to find a way to pass the next two hours without getting in trouble. Your eyes scan across the room, eventually landing on Rosé, where she sits a couple rows away from you. Sunlight is streaming in through the window next to her, its golden rays peeking through the breaks in the clouds above to shine on her. She looks gorgeous as she doodles away in her notebook, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear when it falls in front of her face.

After waiting on the monitor to fall asleep and sending one last glance to double check, you quietly stand from your seat and go sit next to her.

You barely know each other, but she's your only hope of remaining sane and occupied.

"Hi," you greet, looking into her eyes.

"Hi," she copies, a tiny smile forming on her lips when she notices your impressed expression upon gazing down at her paper. You have to hand it to her -- she's really talented.

"You're really good," you compliment, still admiring the artistry. Seeing as how you're looking down, you fail to notice the blush that works its way to her cheeks. Coming from you, the simple remark meant a lot to her.

You spend the rest of the day making small talk and getting used to one another, leaving detention later with the hopes of sitting together again.

----

The Next Day

"Hi again," you whisper, glancing over your shoulder to ensure that the coast is clear. The monitor is out like a light, with his mouth hanging open and an obnoxiously loud snore coming out.

"Hi," she giggles, watching as you dive into the floor for cover when the man shifts in his sleep. You thought he was waking up, and if he finds out you moved seats, he'll definitely have something to say about it.

"The coast is clear, cadet," she nods like a soldier, assuring you that it's okay to move back after a minute.

"That was close," you breathe out in relief, glad to live to see another day.

You share a laugh, though it has to be hidden behind your hands and kept a minimum. It's cute though -- like a little secret between the two of you, only for you to know.

"What're you drawing today?" You ask later, laying your chin in your palm as you gaze down at her work. Her reply comes out stuttered at first when she feels your leg innocently brush against hers under the table.

"D-dalgom. My friend's dog." She manages out, mentally smacking herself for looking like a fool.

You smile, thinking she's adorable. "I bet it'll be great," you encourage. She grins back as her eyes scan over your face, committing the memory of you to heart. She's always had a thing for you, ever since the time you were paired up in Biology last semester, so she's been enjoying detention more than she thought she would. Seeing you makes the time go by faster, though ironically, she wishes it would slow down a bit.

You make her feel appreciated for more than just what she's capable of producing, and the divide between you and her friend group is blaringly obvious. They like her because of the rush she can help them achieve; you like her because of her.

That thought persists in her mind for the rest of detention, and before she knows it, the monitor is releasing you again. She bends down to put her notebook in her bag when a thought pops into her mind: she wants to ask if you want to go to the park with her. When she's done zipping her bag up, she looks back up at you, only to find you on your phone, talking to someone.

"Yeah, mom. I'll stop by on the way home. So milk, cereal, ramen, and paper towels, right?"

She watches as you wait for a reply, tucking the phone into the crook of your neck as you move to write the list down on a spare piece of paper.

"Alright, love you, too. See you later." You hang up before looking back at Rosie. She looks a little down, and you have no idea why.

You pause for a moment, silently psyching yourself up for what you're about to ask. "This is gonna sound really strange, but do you want to come with me to the store?"

Her heart's pace increases at that, happy to know that you want to spend more time with her, just as she does with you.

"Actually, yeah. That sounds like fun."

You grin at her before spinning around and doing a little celebratory dance, which wins you a strange look from the monitor. You stick your tongue out at him before grabbing her hand and rushing out of the room, hearing his disapproval shouted after you.

--

"Milk?"

"Check."

"Ramen?"

"Check."

"Cereal?"

"Nope."

You nod at her words, now reminded of what you were forgetting. You push the buggy towards the aisle of cereals, gazing around in wonder at the huge selection. Rosé is just the same, eyeing all of the options like a kid in a candy store. After grabbing your mom's favorite kind, you decide on one for yourself and bring it back to the cart. Rosie scoots her leg over, making room for them beside where she sits, reclined in the cart.

You grin when you see her eyeing a box of fruit loops. Huh; fruity. Go figure.

You wordlessly grab the box and hand it to her, feeling your heart melt when she looks up at you like you hold the key to the universe.

"Thank you, Y/N."

"No problem, Rosie." You say, putting your hands on the bar as you begin pushing the buggy again. "Now, I say we see how long it takes to get to the paper towel aisle. My last record was 30 seconds."

She looks at you, clearly impressed, with her eyebrows raised. Without question, she pulls her phone out and gets the stop watch feature ready to go.

"3...2...1... GO!" She shouts, commanding your legs to start pumping as you race down the long strip of store before you. A couple kids dart out of the way just before getting smacked into, quickly turning around and cheering you on as you charge forward.

Her giggles fill the air as you drift around a corner, shouting apologies to the lady you almost bumped into.

"Sorry ma'am!"

A few seconds later, chest heaving and legs sore, you come to a stop in the aisle, dramatically collapsing in a heap next to the buggy. Rosé checks her phone as she reaches down to poke you.

"22.18 seconds, champ," she declares victoriously, smiling when you magically regain enough energy to stand up and celebrate.

"Woohoo! Team Y/S/N (Your Ship Name) for the win!"

She laughs along at that, joining in on your celebration, but she's blushing like crazy on the inside.

-----

The Last Day Of Detention

Ever since your trip to the store, you and Rosé have grown closer and closer. You traded numbers and text occasionally, though nothing beats having her all to yourself for 2 hours straight with no distractions. She feels the same; when she's in class, she can't wait for the bell to ring and signal your reunion. Part of her wants to get in trouble again, just to see you more often.

So, as you'd expect, it's really no surprise that you're sat right in front of her again, telling jokes and asking about her day. You've grown a bit more bold with every step closer you've taken towards her heart, and now you reach down to intertwine your fingers with hers.

She happily accepts, even bringing your hand up to her lips to press a kiss to the back of it. She smiles against your skin after it, making butterflies take flight in your stomach. She's got you wrapped around her finger, and you don't even try to fight it anymore.

The sound of the classroom door opening alerts you, making her lower your hand. She doesn't let go of you, though, and that fact warms your heart for some reason. The squeaky hinges groan out again as the door opens wider, revealing about 4 or 5 people from the friend group that she hangs out with. They motion for her to sneak out with them, but she just shakes her head.

"Come on, Rosé!" They whisper-scream, offering her a way to freedom. Little do they know that she'd take this imprisonment over freedom any day, so long as you're by her side.

"No! Get out before he wakes up!" She whisper-shouts back, eventually convincing them to leave.

"Why didn't you go?" You ask once they're gone, toying with her fingers as your hands rest on the desk.

"Because I like spending time with you." She admits, letting her defenses down.

"I was hoping you'd say that," you smile, letting her know that you feel the same.

The Fallout

After detention, the two of you walked out of the school, hand in hand

"Would you maybe, I don't know... wanna go to the park with me?" She asks nervously, glancing up at you.

"You read my mind, Rosie." You smile at each other and head towards the parking lot.

You started hanging out more, and she distanced herself from her old crowd

You encouraged her to enroll in your school's art program and show her work that way

"You're really talented; it deserves to be seen."

Your support meant the world to her, and she never failed to let you know

"Thank you, Y/N. Having you behind me means the world to me."

At one of her art shows, where she was tasked with unveiling a new piece that she'd been working on for months, you got the biggest surprise of your life.

She created a mural of you, all decked out with every color of the rainbow, utterly gorgeous

She lit up when she saw your reaction

"This piece is titled 'Mine', which I hope the girl in it will soon be." She says into the microphone, looking at you with hope shining in her eyes.

You nod your head with a smile and walk up to her, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that was long-overdue. She wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you in closer with her sweater-padded hands and kissing you again and again.

The crowd claps for you, happy to see such an ending.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Lisa

I couldn't choose between these two gifs so enjoy both for the price of one ^^^

Lisa Manoban: Cocky, smug, and self-assured. The dancer knew she was hot shit, and she wasn't afraid to show off.

You're all for people being confident and happy with themselves, especially when they're talented, but something about Lisa always seemed to rub you the wrong way.

Whether it be her lack of a filter or the arrogant swagger that she naturally exuded, you weren't sure. People wanted to either be her or be with her, but you fell into neither of those categories.

She always left you frustrated in one way or another, whether it be from her teasing or her witty comebacks

The teachers loved her, as did the students. She was the class clown, so her position was pretty sacred in the grand scheme of things

You, on the other hand, irritated her for other reasons. You were the only person she couldn't get to crack; you never gave into her charms, and it infuriated her to no end. She wasn't used to not getting what she wanted (as childish as that may seem) and having you, one of the most attractive girls at school, turn her down? Well that was a massive blow to her ego.

You weren't afraid to say your piece, and that both pleasantly surprised and upset her.

She constantly tried to flirt with you in class, but you knew it was all for the attention. She just wanted to make her friends laugh, which they always did.

"Y/N, come here babe. There's an empty seat next to me," she coos, batting her eyelashes as you walk in the door. It's a free day, so everyone is sitting with their friends, wherever they like.

"I'm good," you decline, deciding to sit against the wall beneath the large window of the classroom.

"Oooo, denied," Lisa's friends laugh at her this time, chuckling harder when she sticks her middle finger up at them.

"Yah, shut up," she says, nursing her bruised ego as she turns around and opens her phone.

You smile as you continue working on the homework you cracked open, scribbling an answer down onto the notebook paper in front of you. Your fingers glide over your textbook in search of the definition of the term you're on, and Lisa secretly watches from afar. Without realizing it, she grins when you light up upon spotting the answer.

Sometimes her flirting does work, though, and you turn into a blushing mess

*whistle* "Damn, Y/N. You're looking fine today," she exclaims, fanning herself. You worry that she doesn't really mean it, but when her eyes remain on you a second too long to just be friendly, you blush. She's taking in all of you, looking impressed all the while.

"Right back at you, Manoban." You wink, sitting down in your seat across the room. She lightly blushes back, though she does a good job of concealing it.

Considering you share a couple classes and the class sizes are relatively small, it was pretty likely that you'd end up paired together eventually

You weren't happy about it, especially not after the way she had acted that week. Her cockiness had been at an all time high as of late, leaving you frustrated and upset. She was so full of herself; all you wanted to do was wipe that stupid smirk off her face.

"Y/N, you'll be paired with Lisa," your photography teacher informs, pushing her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose.

"But Mrs. Ta--"

"Pairings are final," she cocks her head at you, persuading you to give in. With a sigh, you respond, "Yes ma'am," and attempt to ignore the sound of Lisa's friends high fiving each other in celebration.

The Turning Point

"My parents are gone for the rest of the week..." she says, holding the door open for you as you carry in your equipment. A hint of suggestiveness lies in it; she's alluding to exactly what you think she is, and you push her shoulder upon realizing it.

"Knock it off, Manoban."

"Okay, okay," she chuckles, listening to you for once. The surprise is clear on your face.

She leads you towards the backyard, where you set up one of your highest power cameras and turn it on. You have to create a gallery of different photos, all under the same theme. You both agreed to do a time-lapse of the sunset, and take pictures of the stars after.

Once she makes sure that the timer is set correctly and that the auto shut-off feature is enabled, she motions for you to follow her back into the house. You do, and she leads you into the kitchen.

"Do you want a snack?"

"Sure, do you have any ramen?"

She nods, quickly busying herself by bending down and searching through the cabinets. After she finds it, exclaiming a pleased, "Aha!", she tells you to go get comfortable in the living room.

Three minutes later, from your place on the couch, you begin to smell something burning. You scramble up and rush to the kitchen, only to find Lisa running around like a headless chicken, attempting to put out the small fire she started.

"HOW THE HELL DID YOU MANAGE TO BURN RAMEN?" You shout, though your tone isn't angry. You're just very shocked, and loud about it. You push her away from the pot, albeit gently, and get the flames to go down relatively quickly. You turn the burners off and put the pot in the sink, leaning against the counter to recover from the adrenaline rush.

"Oops?" She asks more so that says, with a growing smile evident in her voice.

You shake your head and chuckle despite yourself, turning around to face her. "You can order a pizza now to make up for that." You point a finger at her, grinning stupidly when she presses the tip of hers to it.

"Your wish is my command, princess."

Thankfully you're already walking away as she says that, so she doesn't get the satisfaction of seeing you blush.

---

"Lisa, I can't keep going." You groan out, sweat dripping down your face. The pizza you ate earlier is giving you a stomache ache, paired with the physical activity you're doing.

"Y/N, just a little longer, we're almost there," she huffs out, keeping her movements steady somehow. You're a mess by now, so you don't understand how she's still going.

A couple minutes later, the TV in front of you lights up, saying, "Awesome moves! You win!" as you collapse to the ground in a heap.

Why you agreed to play Just Dance with her after eating is beyond you.

"Good job," she compliments, grabbing your hand to high five herself with it.

"Yeah, yeah," you roll over, catching your breath.

She lays down beside you as you recover, telling jokes to hear that laugh that she loves so much. She prefers yours over anyone elses, so it's always such a reward when she gets you to crack up.

"We should probably head up now," she notes, realizing that the stars will be coming out soon. You agree, and she carefully helps you up.

"Here, I'll carry you," she turns, bending down so you can get on her back.

"Lisa, you can't carry me," you brush off, feeling insecurity bubble up again like it always does when you're offered a piggyback ride.

"Y/N, I promise that I can. Trust me," she reassures, looking into your eyes sincerely.

"Alright," you sigh, standing onto the couch to get on easier.

"See?" She asks, sliding her warm hands up your thighs to keep you secured against her. "I've got you, babe."

You tuck your head into the space between her shoulder and neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume.

"I'm gonna punch you if you drop me," you whisper, feeling her laugh against you.

"Fair enough."

-----

Later, On The Rooftop

"Careful," she instructs, outstretching a hand to help you climb out the window. Her camera hangs around her neck, and she takes the cap off of the lense once you're both safely sitting on the roof.

"Wow," you sigh, gazing up at the sky in wonder. Her house is far enough away from the city that you're rewarded with a gorgeous view of the stars, unburdened by the industrial fog that hangs over the cosmopolis.

"It's beautiful out here," you say, looking back at her. You tense up a bit, not expecting her to already be looking at you.

"Sorry," she laughs at herself, looking away once she gets caught admiring you.

"It's okay," you reach down and gently squeeze her hand, making her blush lightly.

"Let's get started," you conclude, pointing at the camera. She nods, knowing that she'd never get the assignment done if you didn't step in to tell her to (considering she'd rather admire you), and she points the device to the sky.

After snapping a few pictures, she lays back in order to get a better vantage point of one of the star systems. She hands it to you after she's satisfied with her work, and you take your turn with it.

She notices that you keep brushing your hair out of the way when it falls in your face, so she decides to help you.

"Here," she says, saddling up behind you. She gathers your hair up, running her fingers through it to neatly pull it up for you. Thankfully she always keeps a spare tie on her wrist.

"Thanks," you smile, snapping another picture. The simple act warms your heart; she's being selfless for once, and helping you without even being asked. It's a refreshing change of pace.

"You're welcome." She chirps, sitting back down beside you.

-----

Later, In Her Bedroom

"Oh, I really like that one!" She says excitedly, pointing at the TV. Her phone, which is connected via Bluetooth and automatically receives pictures of her choosing from the camera, is displaying some of your best shots.

"Yeah, you did really well with that. I think we might beat everyone else if we use that as our cover piece."

Your compliment makes her momentarily shy, and she quickly realizes how much she loves your praise.

The two of you continue like that, reviewing the different pictures and choosing your favorites. She always finds ways to compliment yours, noting your technique or the filter you used, and it always makes you smile. She's different than you're used to, and it's throwing you for a loop, pleasantly surprising.

---

Lisa steps out of the room to go to the bathroom a few minutes later, leaving her phone connected to the TV. A ding sounds out across the space, pulling your attention away from the stack of notes laid out before you. Your eyes dart up to the screen, reading the text message that appeared at the top of it.

Austin ⛓: "Dude, did you get into her pants yet? We're literally betting over here 😂"

You blink a few times as their words sink in, making your chest hurt. You were really beginning to believe that you had been wrong about Lisa; clearly, though, your instincts were right.

Feeling betrayed, you shove your folders back into your bag and stand from the chair, willing yourself not to cry. The sound of the sink turning on lets you know that she's almost done, so you hurry your movements and make your way towards the door. She steps out into the hall just as you exit her room, looking at you with wide eyes.

"Woah, woah, woah, what's going on?" She asks with furrowed brows, approaching you. One of her hands lands on your arm, and you shrug it off as you brush past her without another word.

"Y/N, did I do something wrong?" She asks from the top of her staircase, watching as you walk towards her foyer.

"Why don't you ask Austin?" You bitterly call over your shoulder as you turn the knob, slipping out the front door. She hangs her head upon registering your words, realizing what must've happened. She makes a mental note to give him hell when she sees him again.

Tears sting your eyes as you exit the house, wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself. You should've known something like this would happen. The chilly night air bites at your skin, stealing more of its warmth away with every step you take. The temperature doesn't change your mind, though; you're upset, and you'd rather freeze out here than be face to face with her right now.

"Y/N, wait!" She calls after you, blasting out the front foor. Her footfalls sound off behind you, announcing her rapid approach, but you don't turn around. Realizing this, she darts in front of you, keeping you from walking any further.

"Please, don't go. He's an idiot, Y/N."

"He might he an idiot, but that doesn't take away what he said," you scowl, clenching your jaw. "Betting? Really, Lisa?" You ask quietly, hurt evident in your voice.

"It was a stupid thing they tried to convince me to do. I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop them from talking once you and I were paired up. That's not what I want, though. I'm not just in it for that."

"How am I supposed to believe that? This is your M.O., Lisa."

"It's different with you, I don't know why." That's a lie; she knows exactly why you're different than anyone else she's flirted with in the past.

You stand there before her, silently weighing your options. After seeing the pleading look in her eye, her dark orbs full of sincerity, you relent. "Just take me home. We'll work on it another day," you compromise, allowing her in just enough to take you home, but not enough to stay at her place any longer. You're still weary after a text like that, and you will be for a while.

"Thank you," she breaths a sigh of relief, clasping her hands behind herself as you begin walking back to her house. She notices you shiver on the way, and she slips her jacket off without hesitation to cover you. Neither of you have to say anything; one glance from you is enough for her, and she's content knowing you're warm.

The Fallout

From there on out she was always honest with you and actually spoke out when her friends tried to do something stupid

She still remained the charming class clown that she naturally is, just getting rid of the not-so-nice parts of herself

You slowly let her regain your trust, little by little

She did nice things for you on the daily, whether it be holding the door, carrying your books, or offering to buy you some lunch

"Morning, Y/N. Wanna grab some breakfast?" She asks, moving her head to the side towards the café at the center of campus.

"Sure," you smile, laughing when she celebrates.

She invites you to her dance perfomances

When she goes to championships, you're always first on her list of invites

"I want you there." She declares, handing you the flyer.

"You've got it," you decide, knowing there's no where you'd rather be. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

At said championship, she won the highest title and claimed victory for your school

You joined the rest of the team on the stage to celebrate, congratulating the solo dancer on her achievement.

"I'm so proud of you, Lis--"

She suddenly kisses you, clearly high off her win. She pulls back when she realizes what she just did, a worried look on her face.

"Shit, I'm sorry." She looks between your eyes, attempting to gauge your reaction.

"Get your ass back here," you order, feeling butterflies take flight when she eagerly presses her lips to yours again, wrapping her arms around you to spin you.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" She mumbles against your lips.

You squint, pretending to think about it. "Maybe... or maybe not."

Her subsequent gasp is quickly muffled by your kiss, which she can't seem to get enough of.

[kenmei]

-ˏˋ FOREVER N THEN SOME! ˊˎ-

♡ gn!reader x kozume kenma

cw: pinch of angst (to fluff !!!), romance, slice of life, crying, established relationship!au, timeskip!au

synopsis: in which he’s actually more traditional than he leads on

wc: 2000+

notes from mei!

ive had this idea rattling around my skull for the longest time

sixteen and a handshake. a standard, normal handshake, but still awkward.

you remember how his hand perfectly fit with yours—how his palms were searing hot as they met with your much colder ones.

you remember him, as a second-year, as the setter for the team you cheered for from the stands. you remember his flushed cheeks when you kissed him on the cheek for a first time, watching as his brain malfunctioned as the rosy hues on his face spread to his neck and the tips of his ears.

you remember him, as the captain, worn out and exhausted at your doorstep.

you recall how he slumped onto you, making you somewhat drag him to your room. half because he really was that tired, and half for his own amusement.

you know him. you know him a bit too well and it’s both a blessing and curse.

because you wonder if he’s finally grown out of it—of this.

looking at the empty spot beside you, you think that, perhaps, he really has—the signs are staring right at you. lately, you’ve been sleeping in a cold bed, waking up to yet again another empty penthouse as you figure he’s at the office again.

(you hope he’s at the office, at least).

texts replies are always hours apart. it seems like he’s been doubling up on streams. friday’s that have always been reserved for two since forever, have only had one person attending these past few weeks.

this is sad, your chest clenches dejectedly at yet another morning where it’s only you. looking around, a part of you wishes that kenma’s actually here, that any second now, he’s going to emerge from his game room, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he scratches his tummy.

because even if you both don’t talk as much as you used to, it’s enough for you simply when he’s present. it’s enough for you when he mutters a good morning, waddling past you to go make his coffee before sitting on the couch.

it’s enough for you when he’s here.

the absolute bare minimum can make you the happiest, but you wonder if even that is too much.

twenty-four and you’re still overthinking.

“just talk to him!” your friends say, but truly it isn’t that easy. even if you’ve both promised to be better at communicating, something about this whole situation makes communication feel so much more difficult.

“you’ve been together for so long, you both still aren’t married?” if you’re being honest, it does bother you sometimes and you wonder if maybe, you should just get on one knee instead.

but you don’t. you don’t because you and kenma already both live(d) like you’re married. you both still share(d) that dynamic of being a laid-back couple who deals with problems as they come.

you don’t think about marriage with him because it already feels right. you don’t mind not getting married and honestly, you’re pretty sure kenma isn’t that kind of guy.

you’re startled by someone poking the side of your head.

your head turns to see kenma, brows slightly furrowed as he analyzes you.

you shake your head, sitting up straight on the couch. “’what’s u—wait, aren’t you supposed to be streaming right now?”

kenma nods his head, plopping into the spot next to you. “ended early. chat was being rude today.”

your head bobs in understanding as you try to find words to piece together. he must be frustrated, you know a little bit about how difficult it can get as a streamer and you also know him, that if he doesn’t want to be near you or hear you, he simply wouldn’t be.

you smile slightly, “t—”

“why are you so tense?” he questions, leaning back. his eyes study you and you feel like hiding.

“’m not.” you defend, shrinking.

“you are.” he replies, “what’s wrong?”

you hum, grabbing a throw pillow and falling onto your side, opposite from him. “class was hard today. your paparazzi found me at the grocery store—”

“that happened last week.”

you groan, because fuck, you really can’t lie to him. he’s too good at getting you to open up, no matter how hard you resist it.

“it’s stupid.” you pout, covering your face with the pillow, already feeling your wound up emotions spiraling back up to the surface.

kenma’s hand lands on your legs, situating them over his lap. he pats the side your calves, humming. “talk to me.”

“what about you?” genuinely, you feel like right now isn’t the best time to talk about this. “you were just telling me about how your chat was being rude!”

“that can wait.” he replies, patient, like he’s always been. “something’s been bothering you, no?”

yes. you think. but i don’t wanna talk to you about it ‘cuz i’m scared.

“are you tired...” fuck, you think, because once again, he’s getting you to talk. “of—of me?”

he’s always been good at this. somehow always getting you to say whatever’s clogging up your mind. he reads you like an open book and you hate it, because even after all these years, it’s still scary.

it’s daunting, because he knows so much about you. if he wanted to, he could pick you apart all too easily, knowing exactly what buttons to push to make you break and that’s scary. it’s terrifying, even.

you feel his hand, as warm as they’ve always been, slide under the bottom of your loose pajama pants, warming up your ice cold skin.

and the feeling is weird, because you feel like you’re on fire, yet his hand is still so much warmer than you.

it’s comforting. you’ve both always been touch-starved and kenma knows this, he knows this as he traces small shapes on your calves, the hem of your pants riding up a bit.

“why would i be tired of you?” he mumbles, eyes moving to see your face is still very much covered with the pillow.

you shrug, leg twitching under his feathery touch. “you’ve been distant and stuff... i dunno.”

and it feels like he’s back at square one with you. kenma feels like an idiot for not realizing sooner, cursing himself for being so caught up with work (and something else) that he’s been neglecting you.

you’ve always been a bit of a crybaby, only him and your close friends know this.

he notes that you tend to cry even when you both have the smallest fights, and it’s something he’s used to.

so to know that you’re holding everything in, it makes his chest tighten.

“i’m sorry, angel.” he says, quiet. “work’s been busy.”

yes, work is busy. even if he finds it enjoyable, it can get taxing sometimes. but he’s also been looking around for something, something that he needs perfect.

“‘s okay.” you mumble and he knows he’s fucking up even more. “i just miss you.”

he tugs on the bottom of your shirt, “c’mere.”

you shake your head and he ponders on what to do.

because even now, even though you’ve both been together for so long that existing with the other is literally needed, there are times when you both get stuck—where existing together feels more complex than it should ever be.

“please,” he pleads softly, “i miss you.”

and if you’re not gonna come to him, he’ll come to you.

so he leans down, forcing you to hold a bit of his weight as he lays atop you. he pulls the pillow away, wiping the few tears away with his thumb.

he kisses your cheek.

twenty-four, you let yourself cry because you’ve missed him so much. seeing other in the evenings or exchanging a few short words doesn’t do it for you anymore, it never will.

another kiss, but on the other cheek. i’m sorry.

another for your forehead, then one more on your nose. i love you.

your hands cling to him and he smiles, caressing your hair. his head lays in the juncture of your neck, frequently wiping your tears with his thumb.

he makes you sit up, only because he wants to hold you.

with your back to his chest, his warm hand envelopes yours. he doesn’t make you face him, because he knows that wouldn’t make you feel comfortable. 

it’s only when he hears your crying subside, that he holds your chin, making you look him in the eyes.

“are we okay?” he mumbles, his lips so close to yours you can feel his breath.

it still gets to you. he still gets to you like you’re both still teenagers; your heart thumps in your ears, body burning because fuck, he’s really close to kissing your lips.

you nod, “’m sorry. didn’t wanna talk to you ‘cuz i was scared.”

his lips slot against yours and it’s gentle, your mind becomes fuzzy with a warmth only kenma can provide you. he chuckles when he pulls away, your lips chasing his.

“don’t worry about that,” he says softly, “i might’ve accidentally made it harder to approach me.”

you shake your head. “thought it was just my overthinking.” you fiddle with your fingers, “i didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it.”

“next time,” he says, “make a big deal out of it. you gotta talk to me, angel.”

you whine, feeling embarrassed because you’ve gotten this lecture from him so many times.

kenma sighs against your skin, wondering if now is the right time. it feels like a good time, but he doesn’t want to waste a special moment because of a good feeling.

“what’s wrong, ken?” you ask, tilting your head back onto his shoulder.

your eyes are red, you’re still sniffling every now and then.

he smiles, hand travelling to his pocket as he pulls out the ring, holding it in front of you. “this is why i was so busy. t—the box is in my gaming room, though, fuck—”

“is that—”

“w—wanna get married, y/n?” his whole face is red. you giggle at his shaking hand as you hold out your own (shaking) hand.

“yeah. i really wanna.”

and you’re crying again as he slips the ring on your finger. the diamonds sparkles at you and you can’t help but fawn over the ring as you sob.

“crybaby.” he mumbles, kissing your cheek. he nuzzles into your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your midsection. “i love you.”

and it’s here you realize that kenma is a lot more traditional than you thought. memories flood in of him always getting you to watch the first snow with him through his window, forcing you under the kotatsu with him as he shows you a new game he started playing.

eighteen. for your two year anniversary, he took you to a place with love locks. signing one off with you before throwing the key god knows where. and you remember thinking it’s weird, because the month before that, he was telling you stuff like that is kinda phony. 

nineteen. you recall him grumbling about getting into a yukata for the festival, but grumbling even more when you gave in and said you’d both attend in normal clothing, because he’s already halfway in the yukata, why would he change? (he just wanted to wear one with you).

twenty-two. his persistence to keep you awake to watch the sun rise on new years.

you realize kenma follows traditions more than you do and you chuckle.

giggling, you hold your hand out where the diamonds on your left ring finger shine happily, tilting your head to kiss him yet another time.

“i love you.”

change. you know your daily lives aren’t going to be much different, but you both like how your last name will be the same as his.

twenty-four. he proposes to you so casually that some might find it weird. but you both aren’t ones for big gestures. you know kenma loves you, it’s in the way he moves your hair out of your face as he asks you if he can still make it up to you.

and he knows you love him, when you laugh and tell him he already has—when you intertwine your fingers with his and kiss the top of his hand, kenma knows and you know, too.

forever it is.

[unmaskedagain]

You had a Friend in Me

           I’M BACK!! Oh god its been two weeks since I posted a story. I missed you guys like crazy. Hopefully you like my newest piece. I went a... Unique direction. Enjoy!

 She didn’t stumble, fall, and break like they expected her to. There was no big meltdown or confrontation. No apologies. Or promises to do better. No, when nearly everyone in class made it clear they weren’t friends with Marinette anymore; nothing happened. They had accused her of being mean to Lila and a bully as the reasons they couldn’t be friends anymore and had expected the girl to defend herself at the very least.

           Marinette just shrugged, and that was it.

           Even when they asked her to resign from being class president, she easily stood up and said she quit.

           Most of the class, Alya, in particular wanted to be angry at her lack of reaction; shout and scream at the bluenette for seeming not to care about the severance of their friendships. But how could they?

           They knew it was their choice. They were mature enough to know that everyone reacted differently to things. And yelling at Marinette for not being emotional enough at the fact that they weren’t friends anymore just showed their own immaturity. And that would be like telling Marinette she won; and that wasn’t worth it.

           Besides, It was only September, they were sure Marinette would come crawling back to them soon.

…

…

           Marinette never did.

…

           On the outside, it didn’t look like much had changed with the class. While the class weren’t friends with Marinette, they still chose to be cordial. They still did assigned group projects with. Everyone doing their part. However, no one went out of their way to speak with the Bluenette. And she did the same and seemed content.

           Despite appearances, things had definitely changed in class. And it didn’t take long for everyone to realize it.

           The first was Alix’s birthday. Everyone had been so excited. Birthdays were always the best for Bustier’s class. The entire classroom would be decorated. There would be cake and balloons; a wonderful and thoughtful perfectly wrapped present.

           However, when the kids arrived that morning, it was too the same ordinary classroom as the day before.

           It was disappointing to say the least. The kids scrambled to try to throw something, anything together before Alix arrived. However, it was too late. Alix arrived not long after them, and seeing the smile fall from her face broke their hearts.

           No one knew what to say. Or how to explain why nothing was decorated. Why there was no cake and or gift. They sat awkwardly at their desks.

           It was only after Marinette arrived, just a few minutes before the bell rang, that they all got their answer.

           Marinette. Marinette had been the class president. The class president was responsible for any class birthday, trip, or fundraiser. She had always gone above and beyond. Unlike, Chloe, the previous class president, who only ever put in their bare minimum (and she made Sabrina do that); a cupcake, a balloon tied to their desk, and a card signed by the entire class.

           Marinette had been their friend so she always made sure to do her very best to celebrate. But she wasn’t class president anymore. And she wasn’t their friend. She wasn’t obligated to do anything.

           So she didn’t.

           And while the class had been meaning to, they never got around to electing a new class president to replace the one their forced out of office.

           It burned a little.

           Particularly, when the class realized they were hard pressed to find volunteer to assume the role. No one had that much time on their hands. No one wanted to be responsible for anything going wrong. Or not living up to expectations.

           Friend or not, they could admit Marinette was a hard act to follow.

           Unfortunately, to prevent Chloe from taking the job again, Alya was forced to step up.

           It didn’t take long to realize that planning for fundraisers and dances and parties was equivalent to the work of seven people. She didn’t know how Marinette handled it so well.

           School trips, once amazing and carefully planned to the last detail, now were boring and hastily put together; the best one was a trip to the museum, mostly because they got to have ice cream after.

           Fresh baked sweets on big tests days were gone too. It had become a tradition that on days of major, study hard and cram for weeks prior, tests that treats were brought in the morning. It lightened the tension of the day, and just made everyone feel better.

           The morning of a huge math test that had caused a few kids to hyperventilate the day before and of; delicious goods were nowhere to be found.

           When the bell rang, Kim had quickly asked Bustier where the food was.

           To which the teacher replied, “Marinette always asked me if she could bring them in for her friends.”

           And that was all they needed to know.

           It sucked but it was something they could live without.

           Favors were the next thing they realized were gone.

           Before whenever they needed something; they would automatically go to Marinette for help. A babysitter, sweets, costumes, dresses, set design.

           Alya and Nino found themselves spending their date nights watching their young siblings together. Most of their friends refused to babysit. And the few that were willing were far too busy.

           Mylene found that the school play’s custom designed costumes were a thing of the past. So were the artfully decorated set designs.

           Alix had to make her own banners. So did Kim.

           Rose couldn’t just run to Marinette when she need a new fabulous dress. Marinette had always made it clear that she was willing to help out a friend whenever they asked her about costs.

           Then the favors they never realized they even got were gone.

           Discounts at the bakery were only for friends and family. Unfortunately that also meant the discount for their families were gone as well.

           Ladybug suddenly stopped giving Alya interviews. And when Alya asked why, the hero said she only did it because the reporter was Marinette’s friend. It hurt the Ladyblog badly.

           Someone coming to defend them whenever Chloe threw a tantrum and managing to calm the blond down. Even Alya found she wasn’t as much of match as thought, when the spoiled rotten girl was on rampage.

           This effect class morale dramatically. And it wasn’t before long that the class shifted to what it was like before Alya or Adrien came to school, with Chloe trying to declare dominance every other second. But this time, the other students were cowed like they used to be. No, they had seen Marinette standing up for herself and them for years. If she could do it, so could they. Sadly, they weren’t enough. With just the right amount of effort, Chloe could intimidate anyone.

           Adrien who was soon confused about why the friend safe haven had suddenly turned hostile

           Marinette just shook her head. Chloe asked (ordered) Marinette to come to her penthouse one October morning. The blonde had realized the dynamic in class had changed dramatically and wanted to seize the opportunity with an iron first; and she knew she couldn’t do that if Dupain-Cheng was still her number one enemy.

Chloe proceeded to lay down an offer of truce. Chloe and Marinette would leave each other alone, would stay out of each other’s way, and didn’t interfere with anything the other did unless it was school related so they absolutely had to. There would be no threats, stealing, lies, or intimidation from Chloe towards Marinette. In return, Marinette would let Chloe do her thing without trying to defend or save anyone.

As long as both did that, there would be peace.

Marinette agreed.

Thus Chloe’s reign for her symbolic iron throne began. The queen bee had no illusions of who was who. Marinette was a Stark. Chloe: a Lannister.  But Chloe was a smart lion. She had no problems letting the North be independent away from the rest of the kingdom. Chloe’s kingdom.

And much like show, there was no win or lose. When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground. And Chloe would win.

Lila was the first to feel to the effects. Chloe refused to have competition for Queen Bee. And the Italian girl became took Marinette’s place as her new number one target.

Lila soon learned that dealing with Marinette was one thing, dealing with Chloe was a whole different animal.  While Marinette fought for peace, Chloe was more than willing to rage war. And unlike Marinette, Chloe didn’t care what anyone thought about her. Lila could scream to the world about how much of a bully Chloe was but what did it matter. Everyone in class knew that already.

She couldn’t threaten Chloe like she did Marinette. In fact, the Chloe regularly threatened her. In front of the other students, and Bustier.

She couldn’t try to get Chloe expelled as Damocles was quick to bend to the blonde’s will.

Chloe regularly “Accidently” tripped Lila, ruined her homework, stole any projects she had, destroyed her phone one time, verbally ripped her to shreds in front of everyone and even worse in private. Chloe would play mean and outright nasty pranks that would leave Lila in tears. More than a few sets of clothes were destroyed. To make everything worse, the blond brat routinely made her look like a fool in front of Adrien. She even got her mother to mock the Agreste brand about their use of a lackluster model to the point where Gabriel fired her.

Nearly everything Lila had accused Marinette of doing, she found herself actually having to face from Chloe. Who would’ve thought the bluenette was doing her a favor by being all moral and self-righteous that it would draw the attention of the evil that was Chloe Bourgeois.

The truce happened one grey October Morning, Chloe officially ruled the class again by November. Lila was seriously considering changing schools.

No one had the time to fawn over her. And she certainly didn’t have time to amaze anyone with her stories. No she was too busy fending off Chloe’s attacks. And wondering why the brat kept referring to her as a Tyrell. Or Alya and Nino as Karstarks. And the rest of the class as Freys’.

One by one, each student realized they had lost something else. Something they actually really missed.

When the class picture was taken, Juleka had been just late and no one realized it. Rose had comforted her again. But no one was able to get the photographer to take another picture. At the end of the day, Juleka still felt really bad about it and had to fight the urge to call Marinette that night. Marinette was always willing to just listen no matter the time.

And it wasn’t long where the other students found themselves in similar situations that all ended with them really wanting to talk to Marinette.

Alya after a fight with her sister.

Rose after Prince Ali wrote to her that he would be ending communication.

Nino after a gig went terribly.

Kim after he lost one of his games.

Alix after she broke her watch…. Again.

Mylene after a fight with Ivan.

Ivan after he failed a math test.

Nathaniel after Marc decided to end their partnership.

Sure, they went to their other friends for comfort. But Marinette was different. When one of them went to any of the other students with a problem; it felt just like that. Them complaining about their problems and the others doing their best to cheer them up and offer solutions. At the end, they still felt like they were on their own; like it was still just their problem. With Marinette…

She always made them feel like they were on the same team. She cared like they were her problems too. And wasn’t going to stop until they were fixed. Marinette was someone they could just talk to without judgement or getting harsh opinions; no criticism. With her, they never felt like they were being judged; even when pointed out that it might, in fact, be their own fault.

They missed Marinette when they afraid or nervous. She’d always manage to calm them down, assure them, be their biggest supporter if need be. And her just being them made them feel better; like they stood more of a chance. She take their mind of things, get them to relax, smile, and by the time whatever it was that made them so terrified came up, they had already completely forgotten why they were anxious.

The strangest part was they even missed her when things were happy as well.

           When anything good happened, one of their first instincts was to call Marinette; scream their excitement. And listen to Marinette scream back just as happy as they were, despite that she was in no way affected.

           No; on the outside the class hadn’t changed much. Everyone still did their own thing. Homework was done. Tests were dealt with. Sure class trips weren’t as wonderful as they used to be. Birthdays only with store bought cupcakes and maybe some balloons. Everyone who started out as friends were still friends by the end of the years. It was just like anyone other class in the world.

…

           Except they were never like all other classes. They had always felt like they were special. Most kids hadn’t looked forward to school day but the students of Bustier’s class had. There had always been something new and wonderful to talk about; some adventure to go on. Now there was nothing. There was still life in the classroom; still laughter and fun. But it was like something took the spark that made it come alive.

           And it was hard to pretend otherwise.

           And they couldn’t really figure out why.

           One or Two (Rose and Nino) could admit, whenever they found themselves alone with their thoughts in class and looked around, that were was a hollowness to the classroom that had never existed before. It didn’t make sense. Everyone (minus Chloe) was still friendly with one another. They all still cared about each other. They were all still really good friends. Good but not as good as they used to be.

…

           They’d never be as good as they used to be again.

…

           The class for their end of year party had gone to the pool. They all had a blast. On their way home, they walked by the park and heard music and laughter. It didn’t take long to realize that there was a party happening.

“Happy Birthday, Marinette!” Caught their attention.

           From where they stood, just outside the party, the students and ex friends of Marinette could make out other students from different classes from their school.

           Aurore the creator of the new blog BugOut. There was Marc, Claude, Mireille, Ondine, Bridgette, the Ice King that was Felix Culpa, and a bunch of other students they never knew Marinette was friends with. Even Luka was there.

“I didn’t know it was Marinette’s birthday,” Adrien frowned.

           So did Alya. Mostly because it was her job to remember as class president. Partly because it was the first time she ever forgot her former (best) friend’s birthday. “It wasn’t on the list,” She gave a weak excuse.

“It looks like fun,” Juleka whispered.

           And it did. There was a live band, a feast of food, people laughing and dancing; it all looked so… Alive.

           Alix stuffed her hands in her pockets. Her throat clenched at the sight of the laughing bluenette who didn’t look like she had a care in the world. “Who knew Marinette had so many friends?”

           Nino glanced down, “She looks happy.”

           And Marinette did.

           She looked like the happiest girl in the world.

           But she always did.

           Even after they ended their friendships with her.

           It didn’t seem to both the bluenette. She kept being her positive and cheerful self, except they couldn’t bask in her sunlight anymore.

           They watched when Luka got on their makeshift stage with his guitar, “Marinette you are the most special person I’ve ever met. You’re kind, sweet, and way too thoughtful for your own good. Which is why we all wanted you to know…” he started playing his guitar. A familiar tune filled the air, all the party goers starts to sings.

“You've got a friend in me

You've got a friend in me

When the road looks rough ahead

And you're miles and miles

From your nice warm bed

You just remember what your old pal said

Boy, you've got a friend in me

Yeah, you've got a friend in me”

           The song left a bad taste of Irony on their tongues.

           They thought they had left Marinette behind, somehow it had ended up being the opposite.

…

           They felt like forgotten toys.

[mediocre--writing]

Hello again from the anon who sent the first ask about childhood friends Billy crushing on Steve and venting to his mother. You wrote it amazingly, by the way. I would love to see Steve chasing after Billy in the next part, rather than the other way around. Maybe he doesn’t understand why Billy’s been distant and he misses him. I’m not sure if the timeline is accurate but it could be around the time Steve suspects her of having something with Jonathan so he feels very alone and sad and misses his best friend and Billy wants to cry all over again.

part 1 2

billy wakes up the next morning with the weight of his worries pressing into his chest. in comparison, the weight of his secret has been carefully lifted off his shoulders by his mother and was being kept and cradled with the upmost care.

he was left with a list of chores sitting on the dining table and another note reminding him to pick up his extra work from the school.

before even looking a the list of chores, billy did the bare minimum to make himself look ready enough for the day and made his way to the school.

getting his assignments for his last four periods was easy, they were sitting with the receptionist in a little red folder, but his first period, mrs. kelman, hadn’t given hers in yet.

the secretary, being the lazy ass she is, just waved billy through to go to her room and grab the assignments.

her room, of course, was one of the farthest points from the front entrance of the school, so billy power walked most of the way there, wanting to get out of there before he saw someone—a specific someone—and they started asking questions.

knocking on the door once he’d reached it, mrs. kelman came to answer it, muttering something about him being a heathen and a pain in her ass, but billy didn’t care.

because how could he be so dumb? really, you’re friends with a guy your entire life and forget you share the same first period? and you couldn’t wait another thirty minutes to get your assignments?

god, billy wants to shove his finger in the pencil sharpener.

“you’ve got a book?”

billy is staring out the windows of the back of the classroom when he hears mrs. kelman clear her throat, “do you have your book at home?”

with a small cough, billy assures her his copy of the book is at his house. she proceeds to explain the worksheets in detail while handing him, not one, not two, not three, but four packets of work pages he needs to complete ‘by tuesday, if not, i don’t care what you did do, it’s all a zero.’ psycho bitch.

billy, red folder and packets in hand, practically struts out of the classroom before she can come up with any more work to give him.

he’s not yet half way down the hallway when he hears shoes squeaking behind him, his name being called in a voice he really wants to ignore.

“billy, dude, you didn’t answer my calls last night,”

“went to bed early,” billy responded, not caring to turn around or stop walking. nevertheless, steve caught up to him, rushing to block billy’s path.

“well then, talk to me now, what happened yesterday? you haven’t been the same recently, i’m worried,” steve practically begs billy as they finally stop in the hallway.

“i have chores and about fifty pages of work i need to get started on, steve, so if you don’t mind...” billy stepped to walk away but steve grabbed his elbow.

billy’s packets and papers went down to the floor. “ok, i’m sorry about that, but why won’t you talk to me? and what’s with full naming me? you never call me ‘steve!’”

billy bent down to grab at the papers and shove them into his red folder, cradling them in his arms, “well, steve, sometimes people change and you may never know why. maybe they don’t fit in your life the way you thought they did, maybe you finally see the things the way you probably should have seen them all along,” billy scoffed, “have fun at the party tonight, steve,”

as billy walked off, steve felt sick to his stomach. billy was sarcastic and dry most of the time, but never to steve. with steve, there was never the underlying tone of annoyance there was at school and billy never rushed to get away from anyone, at least not this desperately.

steve was off for the rest of the day. it was hard not to notice the constant fidgeting and how he’d stare off into space in gym, the only class he really liked or actively participated in.

by the end of the day, his fifth period (a class he shared with nancy) steve was completely shut down.

wasn’t listening to the teacher or responding to either nancy or tommy’s attempts at getting his attention. he was just thinking about billy. about what he said. how he said it.

that emphasis on how people ‘don’t fit in your life’ and how angry billy was while saying it. how honest the words sounded coming out of his mouth, like he spoke with his entire chest and wanted steve to hear every single word for what it was.

but steve was never good at dissecting literature and hidden meanings, all he knew was what’s at face value.

and billy’s speech at face value was just a message that billy no longer wanted steve in his life. that he had moved on to bigger, better things.

but this, this felt like something his english teacher would scold him for not seeing the depth to.

and steve worried. worried his way through the rest of the day and into the next. worried all through the friday night party and the weekend. worried the monday billy was still suspended.

worried the entire week while billy was back. while billy still wasn’t talking to him or acknowledging him or even fucking looking at him.

steve had thrown himself into nancy that week, been driving her to school and home every day and had taken her on a date twice on school nights.

both times, without realizing, they’d ended up at the diner billy’s mom worked, the one billy would bus tables for in his free time to make a little extra money.

the first day, a tuesday, they’d been served by the diner lady herself, and steve had chatted like they were old friends.

neither mentioned billy, who was clearly seen in the window to the kitchen cleaning dishes.

the second day, a thursday, steve and nancy had come after the movies to get milkshakes. steve got vanilla and nancy got strawberry.

they didn’t see either billy nor his mom that day.

billy was working, though, steve knew because his unmistakable car was parked in its usual spot to the left corner of the building.

steve searched his entire brain, something he’d never done before, to figure out what billy meant.

he wanted to ask someone who knew more about literature than any teacher he’d ever had, but billy was the person he couldn’t ask for help this time.

steve never realized how much he depended on billy for everything. and he means everything.

date ideas for nancy. billy had the best spots.

how to keep nancy smiling. billy had the best pickup lines and corny jokes to make people smile.

keeping steve from not failing his classes. billy was the only person capable of getting through steve’s thick skull.

girl problems and regular teenage angst. billy always knew what people were feeling and how to react.

steve was so dependent on billy and he was absolutely crumbling without him there.

and nancy was frustrated. steve kept spacing out and ignoring her during dates. he wasn’t as charming as before and he was clingier than usual.

‘an absolute nuisance and is acting so desperate’ were her exact words.

this is what she told jonathan byers one night while they sat with their brothers and their friends at the diner after a long afternoon at the arcade.

this is what billy heard while busing tables behind them, unnoticed, before he opened his big mouth.

“done with that?” billy asked with a sickly sweet smile while pointing down at nancy’s empty milkshake glass.

as she made eye contact, her face burned bright red while she tried to control her facial features, “refill?” was the only thing she could squeak out.

billy kept the smile plastered on his face, “‘course!”

he made sure to spit in her stupid strawberry milkshake before he brought it to her.

“do that again and you won’t be working here anymore, boy,” the owner of the diner—benny—whispered to billy while holding onto his upper arm as he walked away from their table.

“yes, sir,” billy said, fake apologetically, because he grinned while walking back to the kitchen.

damn all the money in the world, nancy wheeler was a bitch and deserved her spit-shake.

billy had come to peace with the fact that steve was straight and in love with nancy.

really, steve couldn’t control who he liked.

ok so he was bitter as hell, but it didn’t stop him from being a decent person.

steve, on the other hand, was in the midst of a gay panic—not that he knew what that was. all steve knew was that he missed his billy—

wait when did ‘billy’ become ‘steve’s billy?’

and since when did steve think about billy more than he thought about his girlfriend? especially while he was alone in his house, laying on his bed.

he should be thinking about his girlfriend. his pretty, sweet, incredibly smart, charming, beautiful, blue-eyed—wait! not billy! think about your girlfriend, dumbass, not your best friend!

steve didn’t sleep that night. he stayed up thinking about billy.

about how it had been almost two weeks since he last hung out with billy and over a month since they’d last talked, like actually had a conversation. about how he didn’t even know what his girlfriend was doing this week, even though he knew she told him.

about how he needs to talk to billy.

he needs to figure out why he’s obsolete in billy’s life now. about why they drifted so quick it’s like something shoved a knife between their friendship.

and so, on that sunday morning, while most of hawkins would be out for church, steve drove over to billy’s house, knocking on the door of people who didn’t wake until noon most sundays.

“oh my god,” steve groaned to himself, knocking harder, “open your fucking door, people,”

the door swung open so fast it scared steve a little, almost knocking on a person—billy’s mom.

“hi,” steve gave an innocent smile, though he was met with a grumpy glare.

“why?” she asked desperately, “you know not to come before 12, 10 if it’s an emergency. it’s sunday, the day of rest, and here i am, not resting,”

“i need to talk to billy,”

“yeah,” she nodded, “see, he’s aware that it’s the day of rest, so he’s still sleeping,”

“i don’t care,” steve was stubborn.

she shrugged, “he punches you it’s not my problem. i’ll be resting so scream really loud if he kills you, the neighbors should hear and they’ll call someone for ‘ya,”

she winked at steve as she made her way back to her room, hoping to god that they’d either make up or make out, and she knew she probably wasn’t sleeping anytime soon. these were her boys she was thinking about, after all.

steve walked quick to billy’s door, turning the knob and moving to billy’s bed, sitting on the edge with his hands in his lap.

“i know you heard me knocking,”

“shhh...”

“billy,” steve groaned as he shifted to look at billy ‘sleeping.’

“he’s asleep. call again later,”

“you are your mother’s child,” steve snapped jokingly.

“well then she’s a smart lady. go away, steve,” billy pulled his pillow over his head.

“no,”

“—mmk,”

“talk to me, billy!”

“no,”

“why not?”

“he’s sleeping,”

“jesus christ!” steve stood up, pulling the pillow off of billy’s head and hitting him with it repeatedly. “get up and talk to me you brat!”

billy sat up after the second hit, but steve just kept going.

“what is wrong with you!?” billy put his hands over his head, pushing the covers off himself.

“me? what’s wrong with me!?” steve dropped the pillow to his side as he made crazy eyes at billy, “you’ve been ignoring me for the past, like, month!”

“no i have not!” billy pointed his finger at steve as a teacher would a student. “you have been the one attached at the fuckin hip with wheeler, so don’t you say that i’m the issue here!”

“i talked to you all the time!”

“about her!” billy stood so he could look steve in the eyes properly. “i don’t give a shit about her, steve! i really, really do not care about her in any way besides whatever concerns you! so i’m so sorry that i’m not very attentive on your hour long rants about how ‘nice and soft her hair is,’”

“don’t mock me!” steve exclaimed, insulted by billy’s bad impression of him.

“she’s a bitch!” billy yelled.

“don’t call her a bitch!”

“ok.” billy shrugged, “she’s a prissy bitch,”

“go fuck yourself,” steve complained, throwing his head back in annoyance.

“no!” billy yelled, taking a step foreward. “she talks about you behind your back. to byers. says you’re desperate and a nuisance. is that the same girl you’re so in love with, steve? huh!?”

steve’s face fell a little at the accusation and his eyes darted around billy’s room.

“liar,”

“when have i ever lied to you?”

steve was quiet.

billy, in a softer voice, “i’m not lying. i just don’t want you to be all in love and her not feel the same way, you’re not good together,”

steve had shuffled around to sit at billy’s desk. “wow thanks,”

“i’m serious,” billy’s face was kinder, not as harsh, “she’s already all grown up, and you’re not. it’s a good thing, steve. you’re happy and carefree and want to... go skydiving and she just wants to... play mahjong at the retirement home,”

steve cracked a smile but it fell just as quick, “she really said all that?”

“i spit in her milkshake and she drank the whole thing,” billy admitted, leaning against the desk next to steve’s legs.

steve smiled, “‘course you did,”

they sat quietly for a minute, taking in billy’s words and the consequences of them.

“i’ve been really worried about you,” steve admitted. “you ignored me for a week then got into a big fight, which you haven’t done since that one boy made fun of me freshman year, and then you didn’t even act like i was around. thought you hated me after what happened in the hall,”

“don’t hate you,” billy leaned closer to steve, knocking their shoulders together, “could never hate you. just... frustrated, i guess?”

“cause of nancy?”

billy shrugged, “yea—“

steve turned to look at him better, “something else, though,” he stared at billy for quite some time, “your dad didn’t call—“

“no!” billy shut down the idea, “no, it’s not him. he’s lone gone now,”

“then what?”

“it’s no—“

“it’s something,” steve insisted.

for as awful as steve was on his own, all alone with nancy or in school, for as bad as he was at reading people, billy was an open book to him. he knew every tell he had and could almost read his mind.

“no,”

“yes,” steve was stern.

“no, steve,”

“talk to me,” steve almost begged.

“no,”

“why do i love you?” steve whispered quietly to himself, making billy’s head shoot up before he remembered that he and steve had been saying ‘i love you’ since two weeks after they met.

“steve, you don’t need to worry about—“

“you?” steve guessed. “i don’t need to worry about you? how is that right when all you do is worry about me?”

“i don’t—“

“you do!” steve had a fire in his heart now, “even when you’re upset with me you’re still a good friend. you still look out for me and spit in my awful girlfriends milkshake while she talks crap about me!

“i don’t get why you do it, billy, because i don’t return it and i didn’t even realize until now!”

“you don’t have to,”

“but i should!” steve was pacing in the middle of billy’s bedroom, “i am the worst to you and you just don’t do anything about it! i love you. i love you so much but i’m such an ass to you and i can’t even—“

“i love you too, steve, we’re there for each other. always have been—“

“no,” steve’s eyebrows went up and he steadied his shaking hands. as he realized it for the first time, steve spoke, “no, i love you, billy,”

billy was frozen.

didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t dare even blink.

it was a dream, it had to be.

“i love you and i want to care about you more than i do. i’m a shitty person as is, but, i want to be there for you like you always have for me,”

“i love you, too,”

“why are you crying?” steve’s eyes widened as he saw the tear tracks down billy’s face, rushing over to wipe them away.

“‘m happy. they’re happy tears,” billy sniffled as he looked up at steve, “promise,”

and they kissed.

steve didn’t even think about nancy. billy didn’t think about the shadow under his door that was most definitely his mom listening in.

they ignored the way it was a really bad kiss, especially for two boys with such reputations that they have, but enjoyed it nonetheless.

billy enjoyed the way steve’s hands pushed his messy curls away from his face and steve enjoyed billy’s hands rubbing his lower back.

they didn’t have to think beyond that moment, didn’t have to worry about a single thing.

their only plans past that moment were for steve to break it off with nancy, then they’d go get chocolate milkshakes and eat cherry pie at the diner.

[artificialqueens]

Level Up, Chapter Twelve (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

AN: I can't even lie, the support on the last chapter and about this fic coming back made me so so incredibly happy. If you're still here and reading and leaving reviews, THANK you, I love hearing your thoughts and reactions and it honestly is why this chapter came pretty speedily. Enjoy and tell me your thoughts! Thank you writ for betaing <3

“How on earth are there seven thousand people watching this Instagram live? They got nothing better to do than talk to our sweaty asses?”

Monique’s eyebrows push together in disbelief as she looks at Vanessa’s phone screen, her eyes scanning the comments and it makes Vanessa snort, turning the camera towards her.

“It was your idea. I was perfectly content catching my breath and drinking some water now that class is done, or maybe, y’know, taking a shower,” Vanessa quips, her eyes flitting across the screen as she watches the comments fly by at light speed. “But you wanted to say hi to your ‘fans.’”

“They love me,” Monique tosses her braids over her shoulder, batting her eyes at the screen. “Right, guys?”

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous,” Monet drops down beside Monique on the ground, popping her head in front of the screen. “I’m the one that everyone loves. I mean, how can you not?”

“Very easily.” Monique’s deadpan expression makes Vanessa burst into laughter, shaking her head.

“Y’all are nuts, I swear.”

It’s still strange to Vanessa, the way that this is her new normal. The fact that she can open Instagram and start a live and have an audience, the fact that she can post a picture and have famous people showering her with comments. It’s as if her world has tilted, little slivers of light that are shining upon new opportunities she would have otherwise never been able to see.

Like the fact that Detox has inked her a deal with fucking Fenty Beauty, of all companies, as a brand ambassador and now she has a shoot next week and Rihanna, Rihanna, knows who she is.

Rihanna.

It still doesn’t feel real. Hell, maybe Vanessa actually had hit her head real hard during her last match and the whole period since has simply been vivid dreams while she’s in a coma at this very second. Maybe that’s a more likely scenario.

“Hold up, pass me the phone, I got something to say,” Asia holds out her hands, wiggling her fingers, and Monique sticks out her tongue, handing the phone to her.

“You better be quick. I was having fun with the filters.”

Monet scoffs, nudging Monique’s shoulder as she looks over at Vanessa. “Forget about the filters for a sec. Where are we thinking for dinner? That’s the more important thing to focus on.”

Monique pauses. “Well, see, while I’m a fan of that burrito place we went to last week, it did give me major gas, and I don’t wanna smell up any subway cars on the ride home-”

“Nasty- ”

“There’s a such thing as too much information when the people on Instagram live can overhear you, doofus-”

“As I was saying,” Monique continues, her voice a little louder, “I’m down for some Korean food, maybe. Thoughts?”

Vanessa giggles as Monet shakes her head at Monique, who looks entirely nonplussed. “I’m good with Korean.”

As much as things have changed, from the brand deals and the sponsorships and the people on the street who do a double take when they recognize her, Vanessa’s glad that one thing hasn’t. Her friendships.

She’s not sure how she’d take it if Monet and Monique and Asia started to treat her differently, if maybe they’d think she was a sellout or hate her for having a meme that she has no control over. Her friends don’t pretend as if the whole thing hasn’t happened, either, which she’s sure would feel worse. Instead, they roll with everything, getting excited when Vanessa brings them free sponsored items that show up in her mailbox or scrolling through her Instagram comments and screenshotting the hilarious ones. It’s as if they’re all going through it together instead of just her, and honestly, it feels kind of nice.

The Korean restaurant three blocks away from the gym is one that they’ve frequented quite a bit over their weekly dinners, the booths cozy and a perfect bubble for the gossip they can’t necessarily have while in front of a punching bag. And sure, their last few dinners have revolved around Vanessa’s random celebrity encounters on social media, but today the spotlight is on Asia. Or rather, the grumpy manner in which she’s eating her gimbap.

“I said, there’s nothing wrong. I’d tell you if there was,” Asia mutters, shoving a bite into her mouth.

Vanessa exchanges a look with Monet and Monique. Asia’s the queen of denial, the one who draws attention to problems precisely by trying and failing to hide them. When Asia says that nothing’s wrong, she’s fibbing. Majorly.

“You wouldn’t tell us, you’d stew about it like you are now. So, there’s something wrong. Checkmate,” Monique raises an eyebrow, and Vanessa can’t help but turn towards Asia and nod because hey, Monique’s right.

Asia, though, sulks. “No, there isn’t.”

“Asia. Just tell us!” Monet waves her chopsticks in Asia’s face, who wrinkles her nose. “Did we do anything?”

“No, no, not you guys,” Asia sighs, sinking down lower in her seat. “Not you. You know I’d be quick to beef with y’all if you did something wrong.”

Monique nods. “She’s got a point.”

“Then what? Is it Kameron?” Vanessa asks, and Asia’s expression change is immediate, the way her eyes dart a telltale sign that Vanessa’s hit the nail on the head.

“What’d she do? Do we need to fight her? Though, to be fair, not sure if any of us could fight her. Bitch is ripped,” Monique takes a sip of her drink before she can dig herself in a bigger hole, and it makes Vanessa snort.

“That’s the thing, she didn’t do anything,” Asia scowls, as she grabs another bite. “Nothing at all.”

“Nothing? What do you mean, nothing?” Monet’s eyebrows furrow and Vanessa’s sure that she’s making the exact same expression, too.

“Yeah, what’s nothing?”

“Exactly nothing!” Asia huffs. “It’s been months of us just smacking and that’s all we do, aside from talking about the weather or maybe about Bachelor in Paradise ‘cause she watches that too, but...nothing. We haven’t even been on a date or anything. Nothing!”

“Oooh… ” The way Monique’s realization trails off is comical, and Vanessa has to press her lips together to keep from breaking into a laugh because she does feel for Asia, she really does.

Vanessa’s seen her and Kameron come out from the change rooms or from behind one of the punching bags more than once, the two of them looking ruffled from their little makeout sessions. And sure, Vanessa’s thought that the two of them had more going on. At least, more than what she’s seen with her own two eyes.

But evidently not.

“So you’re waiting for her to make the first move?” Monet gives Asia a look. “C’mon, girl. If you want to date her, then ask her out yourself. Stop waiting around if you want more.”

Monique leans forward. “Yeah, what’s that saying? Follow your destiny?”

“Never heard of any saying like that.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Vanessa clears her throat, trying to shoot Asia a reassuring look. “I think the point that these two are trying to make is that Kameron’s definitely into you, too. She wouldn’t be sticking around if she wasn’t. So what’s the worst that can happen if you ask her out? Maybe she’s shy, or something. Wants you to make the first move.”

Asia scoffs. “Shy? That bitch never stops talking once she starts. I swear, that quietness is totally a facade.”

“There you go,” Vanessa nods, smiling. “See? You know her enough that she’s comfortable around you to loosen up.”

“Doesn’t mean I can ask her out,” Asia mutters, letting out a sigh. “What if she says no? What if all she wants is just this casual not-even-a relationship? What if this is the most I’m gonna get without her running for the hills?”

“And what if she doesn’t?” Monet counters. “Hey, anyone who can swap spit with you for months on end has gotta be into it, right?”

“Nasty. Truly nasty,” Asia grumbles, but her posture is less slouched, less defeated. A little more hopeful.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to feel like she’s using her position of power over you, being a coach, and that’s why she’s letting you take the reins,” Monique ponders, as she lifts up a bite of noodles. “So that she doesn’t feel like she’s pressuring you into saying yes.”

“She really wouldn’t have to pressure Asia at all, she’s jumping at a chance to...” Monet trails off when Asia shoots her a narrow-eyed glare. “Sorry.”

Vanessa reaches out to pat Asia’s shoulder because she feels for her, she really does. “You have two choices, really. You either gotta be happy with this current situation you two have going on with all the smacking and breath mints, or you gotta be willing to take a risk for a higher reward. For a chance of more with her. Though it is a huge risk to take-”

Monet winces. “Vanj, ending on that is not encouraging-”

“-look what you can get out of it,” Vanessa finishes, leaning forward in her seat. “Are you really going to be happy with the absolute bare minimum that you’re getting with Kameron? Is it the way you want things to stay? ‘Cause it seems like Kameron is fine with it.”

“Alright there, Doctor Phil,” Asia grumbles, resting her cheek against her hand, “maybe I’ll talk to her. Maybe, though. I don’t do talking.”

“Tell that to my eardrums who had to listen to you complain about your leggings for twenty minutes straight in the change room yesterday,” Monique mutters, before letting out a squeal when Asia kicks her under the table. ” Ow !”

Asia does look lighter, though, as they head out of the restaurant and towards the subway, a spring in her step that definitely had not been there during dinner. Vanessa just hopes that it’s enough, that Kameron’s feeling the same and maybe Asia’s springboard won’t break from under her anytime soon.

It’s one thing to put yourself on the line, but to risk it all? Vanessa’s a romantic and all that, but she’s not sure that she’d be able to go through with something like that herself if it all went sour.

Brooke’s not really sure of what to make of the way that Kameron’s pacing in front of her closet, to the point where she’s about to wear a hole into the floor. That being said, it is fairly entertaining to watch.

“Y’know you haven’t even looked in your closet yet, right? Aren’t you supposed to be picking an outfit to wear for your d-”

“Don’t even finish that word,” Kameron bites out, holding up a finger and Brooke snorts before taking a sip of her water. “What am I even doing?”

“You’re going out with-”

“Ugh,” Kameron sighs, flopping down on her bed beside Brooke. “This isn’t going to end well, is it?”

Brooke turns on her side, facing Kameron. “Not if you keep dithering like this. You’re putting my anxious self to shame.”

Brooke gets it, though. The way that Kameron’s leg is bouncing and the way she’s unable to keep still are both sure signs that her mind is running at a hundred miles an hour. Considering what Kameron’s about to do this evening, Brooke can’t blame her.

“What if I can’t come up with anything to talk about? What if we just sit there awkwardly and twiddle our thumbs for an hour?” Kameron covers her face with her hands, letting out a groan.

“Is what why you only make out with her in a closet like two teenagers?”

“Shut up.”

“You gotta learn how to have big girl conversations sometime or the other, Kam.” Brooke pats Kameron’s shoulder. “You can talk to me just fine. You can talk to Asia too.”

“But you’re just you. Asia is… Asia,” Kameron mumbles, her voice uncharacteristically soft, and Brooke can’t help but let out a snort.

“Thanks for that non-compliment. Very sweet.”

“You know what I mean,” Kameron sighs. “What if she won’t like me when she gets to know me?”

“You’re a catch. Definitely not my kind of catch, but someone’s kind of catch. Maybe Asia’s,” Brooke dodges before Kameron can whap her with a pillow, grinning when she misses. “Besides, Asia already knows you. You two bicker throughout classes and definitely had things to talk about when driving back from the last tournament. Or was that arguing for the entire drive about the appropriate speed limit on the highway? I can’t remember.”

“You’re terrible at pep talks,” Kameron grumbles, rolling onto her back.

“But you’re feeling better, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Regardless,” Brooke announces, rolling off the bed and grabbing Kameron’s hands to pull her up, too, “we need to pick out an outfit for you. Can’t have you dazzling your star student and date for tonight in your current wine stained joggers. Unless Asia’s into that.”

Brooke gets Kameron into jeans and a tank that shows off her arms and tattoos and Kameron begins to perk up a little at least, looking at herself in the mirror, as Brooke presses an eyeliner pen into her hand.

“Go on. Do your makeup.”

“Do you think she’ll-”

“Yes she’ll find it hot, no you can’t make out with her instead of going on the date. It’ll mess up your lipstick.” Brooke leans back on her hands as she watches Kameron from the bed.

It makes Brooke think, though, as Kameron tousles her hair and slips on a leather jacket and stands a little taller. The fact that Kameron is going on a date with Asia. It’s no secret that the coaches at Brooke’s gym sometimes hook up with the students, despite the fact that it makes Brooke’s nose wrinkle sometimes. It’s relatively harmless, never turning into anything too dramatic. Kameron’s had her own share of them, but this feels...different.

Maybe because Kameron actually cares about impressing Asia, past just the shallow looks and first impressions. She likes Asia and wants Asia to like her too, for more than someone who holds a punching bag for her. Kameron’s toeing the line with Asia from something casual towards something that could be more, and to Brooke, the drop feels real high.

It’s not like they have that much to risk, not really. Sure, a shitty date could make classes awkward for the two of them, though no harm done in the long term. But then why is Brooke’s heart turning over in her chest at the mere idea of it?

She doesn’t know. But she’s going to make her friend look good for her date, that’s for damn sure.

“What shoes?” Kameron holds up a pair of boots in each hand, and Brooke squints as she looks between the two of them.

“The docs.”

“Not too stereotypical?”

Brooke grins. “Way stereotypical. But Asia’s going to eat it up.”

She feels like a mom helping her daughter get ready for her first date. Considering how few dates Kameron has actually been on, how little she takes the leap to get to know people past a shallow level, it somehow feels appropriate.

The sun is beginning to set as Brooke leaves Kameron’s apartment, painting pinks and purples that cast an iridescent glow along the buildings and reflect off of her watch. It’s her second favourite time of the day after sunrise - instead of charging her batteries the way that the oranges and yellows of the morning do, the sunset calms her system, slowing down the thoughts in her brain that go just a little too fast for her liking.

Her phone buzzes when she’s waiting at an intersection, and Vanessa’s name on her screen makes her face break into a smile without her even noticing at first. Maybe it’s just the way that Vanessa’s always so funny, never failing to make Brooke laugh with whatever she comes up with over text.

Vanessa: alert alert Asia is going out with Kam tonight!!!!! Monique and I wanna follow them and see where they go but Monet won’t let us lol

Brooke: LOL. That’s probably for the best. Let the two of them figure it out on their own, y’know?

Vanessa: boooo but that’s boring

Vanessa: Asia said they were going to play something called lob???

Vanessa: tf is that do u know

Vanessa: cuz I thought lob was a haircut

Brooke: Picture mini golf but with small balls that you throw. And without the golf clubs.

Vanessa: haha small balls

Brooke: Really?

Vanessa: IT’S FUNNY

Brooke: It’s a fun game. Went there once some years back and honestly, it feels harder than mini golf. Not that I was good at mini golf.

Vanessa: ok but I’m good at mini golf, does this mean i’d school ur ass if we played

Brooke: Well we’d have to find out and see, wouldn’t we?

Brooke watches the clock at the top of her screen pass by one minute, then another, and Vanessa hasn’t replied, wait, did Brooke say anything wrong? She reads their conversation through again and when her eyes hit the last text…

Wait.

No, it doesn’t sound like she’s asking Vanessa out. Because she’s not trying to. Vanessa’s not, they’re not…

Unless Vanessa’s taking it that way and wants to run for the hills and never speak to Brooke again-

Vanessa: ok lets square up then punk

Phew.

Brooke: Did you just call me a punk?

Vanessa: and what about it??

Brooke: That’s extra burpees for you next practice.

Vanessa: playing dirty!!

Brooke lets out a laugh but it’s more of a shaky exhale than anything else, running a hand through her hair as she walks past the front desk of her apartment building and pushes the button for the elevator. Getting into the elevator alone is a blessing, a chance for her to lean her head back against the mirrors and close her eyes for a second, trying to ignore the way her heart is beating in her chest.

It’s not that she hasn’t thought about it. Brooke has eyes, Vanessa’s beautiful but also now such a good friend but she’s also her student and they’re not like that, they’re not and Brooke doesn’t do relationships-

Ding.

The doors open and it’s almost a relief, in a way, because for a second Brooke gets to pretend that she can leave her worries in the elevator and not bring them into her apartment. But they sweep up on her shore as she unlocks the door, the way they always do when she wants to avoid thinking about something.

Maybe Brooke’s just in her head. Maybe Vanessa hadn’t noticed how her text could have sounded suggestive at all, hell, maybe Vanessa had just been in the bathroom or something and that’s why she hadn’t answered Brooke’s text right away. There’s a million different ways to interpret what had happened, and Brooke’s just working herself up at this point. She knows that.

Problem is, her brain doesn’t always listen.

Yvie’s frowning at a pineapple at the kitchen island when Brooke hangs up her coat and walks into their apartment.

“Not going so well?” Brooke raises an eyebrow at the bent knife in Yvie’s hand and the still-intact pineapple.

Yvie scratches her head. “I really should have just bought the pre-chopped pineapple. But all that wasted packaging, y’know? Figured this was better for the environment.”

“Not for the knife, though.”

“Sadly,” Yvie sighs, letting the knife roll onto the cutting board with a clatter. “I think there’s another one in the utensil drawer somewhere. I’m gonna try again.”

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “Why don’t you look up a tutorial first or something? Maybe there’s an easy way to do it.”

“And ruin the surprise and excitement? Nah,” Yvie shrugs, before grinning. “I’m gonna defeat this pineapple on my own.”

“Have fun with that. And let me know when you’re done so I can have some, too,” Brooke snorts, sitting down on one of the stools at the counter.

Yvie lets out a woo when she pulls another knife out of the drawer, waving it around. “Found it! Nice.”

Brooke leans back on her stool even though Yvie is a good six feet away, because she also remembers the time Yvie accidentally threw a pair of scissors across the room while animatedly telling a story complete with hand gestures. “Careful, Yves.”

“You’re fine. The pineapple is the only one getting murdered tonight.”

“Comforting.”

“Anyways,” Yvie starts, twirling the knife in her hands before lodging it in the side of the pineapple, letting out a curse under her breath. “Is Kameron ready for her date? Did you lend your fashion expertise and all that?”

Brooke shrugs. “Kameron has that part under control. She needed more cheerleading than anything else to actually get herself on the date without clamming up. You know how she gets sometimes.”

Yvie snickers as she yanks the knife back out of the pineapple. “You mean her complete lack of game whatsoever?”

“Yvie!” Brooke admonishes, rolling her eyes when Yvie grins. “I think she’ll be fine with this girl, though. From their constant bickering, they have enough chemistry to warm even Kam up a little bit.”

“Aww. I remember that stage,” Yvie’s face is almost nostalgic, her bottom lip pushing out. “Scarlet and I would always clash in class. Of course, I still found her hot when she was being stupid, but that’s beside the point.”

“And now the only thing you two argue about is about who’s going to hang up first.”

As nauseating as the two of them are, Brooke has to admit that Yvie and Scarlet are kind of cute. The way that they’re making it work despite the fact that they live far away from one another is sweet, as ‘temporary’ as Yvie says their distance is.

“God, I love that bitch,” Yvie’s eyes are almost dreamy, a jarring sight when combined with the knife she’s dangling from her grip. “Speaking of love, what’s the situation with your new lady like? Miss internet sensation herself?”

“What?” Brooke yelps, and the heat that floods to her cheeks is annoying, because from the smug grin on Yvie’s face, she definitely notices. “She’s not my lady. Jeez. I train her.”

“Yeah, yeah. Because that’s what the cuddling on the couch during Chicken Little night looked like. Completely.” Yvie’s look is knowing, too knowing, and it makes Brooke want to fold in on herself, sink under the counter.

“It’s not like that,” Brooke mutters, reaching a hand out for one of the pineapple cubes that Yvie’s successfully chopped and throwing it into her mouth, because it gives her more time to think of something to say.

It’s not. They’re not together, they’re not flirting for Pete’s sake, they’re...they’re Brooke and Vanessa. A washed up coach and an athlete with enough potential and talent and drive to have already made a splash on the boxing world without any professional fights under her belt. Vanessa’s special, more than she knows, and Brooke wants to be the one to nurture that and have a front row seat to her greatness. She’s more than a random person to flirt with and then ghost, she’s more than a sham of a relationship. She’s permanent. At least, Brooke wants her to be.

Desperately.

And not losing Vanessa in the future means that Brooke has to avoid doing anything to ruin whatever it is that they have between them.

“Okay. Tell that to the way you guys were snuggled together like two little puppies or something. It was kind of adorable.” Yvie pops a cube of pineapple into her own mouth, throwing another towards Brooke.

“We weren’t snuggled together,” Brooke mumbles as she chews the pineapple, shrugging when Yvie scoffs and rolls her eyes. “What?”

“So what was it, then? Huddling for warmth? In an apartment with a broken AC that’s always warm, anyway?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Yves,” Brooke lifts up her hands in surrender. “She’s my student. We’re not doing anything.”

“Y’know what I think? I think you don’t know what to tell yourself. And that’s why you’re avoiding thinking about it,” Yvie says, holding up another cube. “Want some more?”

“Don’t you have to go Facetime Scarlet or something instead of pressing me about Vanessa? God,” Brooke grumbles. “Yes to the pineapple, by the way.”

Yvie snickers as she grabs a bowl, filling it with a handful of cubes. “You’re grumpy when you’re forced to confront your feelings.”

“There are no feelings.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Denial may be a river in Egypt, but it’s also very entertaining on you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Brooke groans, resting her cheek on her palm with her elbow against the counter. “Now go have phone sex with your girlfriend while I get my earplugs out.”

“And I’ll enjoy it, thank you very much,” Yvie singsongs as she waltzes into her bedroom, kicking the door closed and leaving Brooke alone in the kitchen.

She’s sure about what she’s said to Yvie. There are no feelings. Well, friendship feelings, and feelings of caring for Vanessa as a person because she’s pretty damn great and a wonderful person, but...not those kinds of feelings.

Brooke doesn’t do those kinds of feelings. Not when they end the way so many other things do, not when relationships don’t ever last the way that they promise to. Brooke doesn’t need her time with Vanessa to end anytime soon.

Besides, platonic cuddling is a thing. Brooke has snuggled up against Kameron’s bicep more than once during their athlete days on the drives to tournaments. Not that it was ever that comfortable back then, but hey, maybe Asia will like it now.

Maybe she and Vanessa can go play lob at the bar one day at the bar that Kameron’s taken Asia to - not as a romantic thing, because they’re not like that, they’re not, but because Vanessa’s competitive streak is adorable. Something that Brooke loves to see but also something that pushes Vanessa to be a great athlete and is almost mesmerizing to watch.

So, yeah. Lob as friends.

Brooke’s going to emphasize the ‘friends’ part when she asks Vanessa. More to calm herself down about it, than anything else.

[markosmate]

american money

pairing; marko x reader

summary; even on the baddest days, there’s always the promise of running off into the night with him.

warnings; none

au; hiiii!! thank you so much for the support on my first few works. i’m working on a dwayne fic and the second part to baby blues now so look forward to those two coming at y’all soon! as always, requests are open so feel free to send in as many as you want - anon or not :)) thanks again <33

School had been awfully stressful lately. You didn’t have many friends to begin with and the ones you did have slowly began to distance themselves after you became close with the boys over the summer. Not many people wanted to be involved with them, which meant not being involved with people who started dating one of them.

It didn’t even take a week before you and Marko were all over each other. The first night you met had ended in a kiss, and a few days later you both had agreed to make it official. Weeks passed before you found out what they really were, the four of them agreeing that you should know that much before you and the curly blond took your relationship any farther.

You had taken it rather lightly, having guessed that something was up after they only came out at night and seemed to walk around with a dangerous aura surrounding all four of them.

So, months later when school started, mostly everyone already knew you were involved with the infamous boardwalk punks. This resulted in most of your friends steering completely clear of you. The ones who didn't, slowly distanced after you barely had time to spend with them anymore.

You couldn’t figure out why they expected you to continue hanging out with them, anyway. All plans that were made were filled to the brim with them throwing degrading words about your boyfriend and his friends at you. You found your nights were much more enjoyable when you spent them with your boys instead of old friends who always viewed themselves as better than you.

When Marko first told you about what they were, he had asked if you would be willing to change to spend eternity with him. You agreed, under the condition that you could finish your last year of high school first. You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why you made that decision now, school was absolute hell.

With all classes and lunches spent alone, you were more lonely than ever all day everyday. And as you laid on your bed staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom, you made the decision right then and there. Why wait nine more months to change when you could just do so that same night and never deal with the hell that is your school and home again? Your parents were constantly away for work, so you couldn’t even guess how long it would take them to figure out that you were gone.

You sat up, moving to grab a bag and pack it full of a few things you’d like to have at the cave with you. David had already informed you about what would happen once you changed. He wanted you to move into the cave with all of them. He informed that you and Marko could decide among yourselves whether you both wanted to clean out one of the rooms and sleep in there together or just sleep from the ceiling with the other three.

You knew in the end if you truly needed anything else besides the bare minimum of necessities, you could just buy it yourself or have one of the boys steal it for you. So you packed only what you absolutely needed before throwing it over your shoulder and hopping down the stairs to the ground floor of your house. The sun had set a good twenty minutes ago, meaning they should be arriving to pick you up any minute now.

Only a few short minutes passed before you heard the familiar roar of engines revving up outside your house. Your lips pulled harshly into a wide grin as you jumped off your couch and opened your front door. There they were, parked in your driveway. Star grinned upon locking eyes with you and she waved you over. "Hey babe! Need a lift?" She joked as everyone else turned to look at you with a chorus of greetings.

"Hey y'all." You laughed making your way over to Marko's bike. You gestured to the bag hanging off your shoulder with a small unsure smile. "Mind if I join the gang a few months early?"

Immediately a huge grin lit up your boyfriend's face. "Are you serious babe?" He laughed out breathlessly.

"Hell yeah!" Paul shouted in victory, leaning over to fist bump Dwayne. "Let the good times roll girl!"

"Of course you’re welcome early. You’re family too." David mumbled quickly, almost like he was trying to say it without actually saying it. You grinned at all of them before strapping your bag to the back of your boy's bike with his help, and then climbing on behind him.

"Hold on tight, baby. This ride's your first ride as a free soul. No more worries, no more responsibilities." Marko whispered back to you before revving his engine as the rest of the boys followed. "Just us, forevermore."

"Did you get that from a song?" You giggled, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist to hold on, knowing how fast him and Paul like to go. The first time they decided to race with you on the back of his bike, you’d almost puked. But you were far more used to the speed and vulnerability that came along with a motorcycle - though Marko was almost always a tad bit more careful when driving with you - after all, you weren’t immortal like the rest of them. A crash that would result in a few cuts and scrapes for them, could possibly mean death for you.

He grinned back at you, welcoming the kiss you pressed to his cheek. "How'd you know?" He joked before turning to watch the road as he pulled the gas and followed after the others.

The wind pushed your hair in all different directions as you laughed happily. You never felt more alive then when you were soaring through the streets of santa carla with your friends, and soon your family. Although you were nervous - what were your parents going to think? would it hurt? how many people would care that you were gone? - you knew deep down that you were always going to be happy as long as you were where Marko was. After everything you've ever been through, every doubt, every worry, he was what you had been waiting for. He was what you had been longing for since you were old enough to dream about future loves you were going to indulge yourself in.

You would learn later on that the pull you had always felt was a mating bond, something that would only get stronger between the two of you once you were a full vampire, but you couldn’t be bothered to focus on anything other than the freedom you felt in that moment.

It ended all too soon as you all arrived at the cave, and within moments the boys cut their engines and were climbing off their vehicles. You threw your leg behind you to climb off, using Marko's shoulders to balance yourself as he pocketed the keys.

"I’ll never get over how amazing it is to ride at night." He grinned at you as he stood off his motorcycle and began walking it over to their hiding spot after you had unstrapped your bag from the back.

"Neither will I. It’s amazing." You smiled happily as you followed after him. Once the bikes were all hidden from view, he reached over to interlock his fingers with your own.

"Well, then I guess it’s a good thing we have eternity to do it over and over again huh?" You laughed at his words.

"I guess so." You pressed a kiss to his lips, but you were both interrupted before he could even try to deepen it.

"Come on lovebirds! We got vampire to turn!" Paul practically screamed up the staircase causing a bunch of birds to flock away upon hearing the sudden noise.

Marko rolled his eyes as he pulled you along with him down the stairs. "Yeah, that will get old fast."

You threw your head back in a laugh, moving to hold his forearm with your other hand - holding yourself impossibly close to his body. "We'll live. Or - I guess we won’t." You joked with a mischievous giggle.

"What was that? A vampire joke?" He raised an eyebrow at you in disbelief.

"Maybe it was." You squeezed his hand in retaliation. "And there’s a lot more where that came from."

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 23

Bio dad Bruce Wayne month 2020

.............. (:

First< Previous > Next

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“How long were we gone?” Marion asks her, as they run through the halls back to class.

“Ahhhh,” The Akuma hadn’t been that hard but it still took time, “forty-three minutes,”

“It’s not that bad,” Marion shrugs, slipping as they turn the corner.

“Not that good either,”

“Now what would make you say that?”

“Marinette! Marion!” Lila’s shrinking greets them the second they open the classroom door, “Why would you leave me to do all the work?”

“Oh I see,” Marion whispers to her, she gives an ‘I told you so’ look.

“They had already completed more work in the three minutes they were here than you have in the past forty,” Damian sneers, Marinette watches with amusement as Lila visibly forces down the snarl.

“It’s meant to be a group project,” Lila’s lip quivers as they reluctantly take a seat at the table.

“Is that why you’ve spent the whole time talking to others and stealing their ideas?” Damian raises a brow, and hot damn if only she could film this.

“I wasn't stealing them, they wanted to help me out since my group abandoned me” Lila turns ‘innocent’ eyes to the tables near them, “Right guys?”

“I never said you could use our ideas,” One of the Gotham students looks upset as she talks.

“Plus you didn’t actually talk about the project only yourself,”  The other says, focusing on the worksheet in front of them.

“You could have at least tried to join another group,” Damian points out, gaming back Lila’s attention as she tries to defend herself, something about not wanting to upset the twins.

“Do you guys not like Lila?” Mylene, who was put with the students asks.

“Not really,” The second one shrugs, looking up from his worksheet for Mylene, “all she does is talk about herself and try to guilt you into feeling sorry for her,”

“Huh, I guess” Mylene shrugs, Marinette doubted they could break her out of Lila’s web, “Well Lila has a lot of achievement even with her disabilities,”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Mylene looks shocked at the first Gotham students' tone.

“Mm, you get kind of good at reading people growing up in Gotham,” The other says, leaning back in his seat, “I would avoid her when walking down the street,”

Marinette looks away from their conversation, not wanting to see that look on Mylene’s face any longer. Instead, she focuses back on Damian and Lila still locked in a heated argument.

“Someone looks like their about to murder Lila,”  

“Oh sorry, I’ll reel it in,” Marion says deadpan, not looking up from his paper.

“Not you, him,” Marinette nudges him, making him look towards the pair.

“Oh,” Marinette can only sigh as a grin splits his face, “You want me to handle it?”

“Are you going to diffuse the situation or focus the blood lust on yourself?” Marinette asks instead.

“Hahaha, don’t be ridiculous,” Marion’s grin widens as he bounces over to the pair, leaning against Damian’s head, “Hey Dami,”

“Cheng-Dupain,” Damian tries to glare at him, giving Lila the chance to escape, naturally going crying to Rose and Alya, “Why do you insist on clinging to me?”

“Ummm, cause it annoys you why else?” Marion leans over to get in his face, not shrinking away from the scowl.

“Dupain-Cheng can you explain his behavior?” Damian turns to her, even under the weight of Marion.

“No, but he backs off if you hit him hard enough,” Marinette slides into the chair across from him, curiously his group members nowhere to be seen.

“Nette how could you!” Marion places a hand on his heart, “I am insulted you would think so little of my dedication,”

“So I cannot remove him by force?” Damian asks despondently.

“No, he’s like a leech-”

“Hey!”

“-He’ll fall off when he wants to,” Marinette shrugs, fiddling with her backpack.

“Everyone is so mean to me Dami!” Marion collapses against him, although he doesn't sag under the weight, “Don’t you feel sorry for me?”

“I do not,” Damian tuts, focusing on his book, “Do not call me Dami,”

“I’ll stop calling you Dami when you call me what I want,”

“And what would that be?” Damian asks with disinterest.

“Big brother,” Marinette gives him a warning look, just getting a wink in return.

“Absolutely not,” Damian snaps, trying again to push him off, not that Marion will budge, “We aren't even related, Dupain-Cheng tell him-”

“Big sister, call me big sister,” The look of utter betrayal on his face was completely worth it.

“I thought you had more sense than to feed into this rumor,”

Won't be a rumor for long

“Think of it as reverse psychology then,” Marinette shrugs instead, that news would come later today.

“That is unlikely to work,”

“What if we called you little brother then?” Marion leans back over into his line of sight.

“ No ,”

“No fun,” Marion shakes his head.

“No fun at all,” Marinette agrees.

“Cheng-Dupain you are an idiot,”

“Is that so?” Marion grins, getting up but not before ruffling Damian’s hair.

They watch as he practically skips to the front of the room handing a stack of papers over to the teacher with a flourish. They read over it with a frown that slowly melts into approval. Even if they can’t hear they can tell Marion is being congratulated, confirmed by him walking back seconds later with a smug grin. While the rest of the class rushes to finish off the project.

“What now little brother?”

“Impressive,” Damian's tone doesn't betray any sense of being impressed, “Of course I finished it in the first fifteen minutes of class,”

“Dami, I haven't even been here for fifteen minutes!” Marion cries out, taking a seat at the table instead.

“Tt” Damian reluctantly admits, “... that is true,”

“Are you conceding defeat?”

“ No ,”

“I think that's a yes,” Marion nods wisely under Damian’s glare, pointing to Marinette, “Nette write this down,”

“I hereby officially declare Marion the winner of the first challenge issued,” Marinette recites, doing her best loopy handwriting in her sketchbook, “As such he has the ability to bring this up every time Damian calls him an idiot, this will be valid for three years,”

“I never issued a challenge,” Damian’s face twists up, still looking betrayed that Marinette would go along with Marion’s game, but it looked like Damian needed some fun in his life anyway.

“Is that really how you want to spend your objection?” She asks instead, rolling up the paper and handing it to Marion.

“... Three years is excessive,” Damian corrects, just as the bell rings.

“Ops too late, bells going!” Marion jumps up before he can protest further, “Alright let’s go!”

With that Marion starts pushing Damian out of the classroom. They get halfway out of the building before Damian breaks off to grab something before leaving. The twins loiter around in the empty halls while Damian takes his sweet time.

“Uh-oh, Satan's envy approaching,” Marinette doesn't need to look down the hall to know Lila is headed their way.

“Hi Lila, can we help you?” She asks politely, but not polite enough to look at her as she does.

“Just because these stupid Gotham kids don’t believe me don’t think anything has changed,” Lila finally release all the spite that had built up over class into her tone. At this point, Marinette was willing to bet they were a form of stress relief for her.

“Are they stupid?” Marion considers, leaning against the wall, “They don’t believe you, I would guess that's the bare minimum of intelligence,”

“Everything will go back to normal at the end of the week!” Lila shrieks, “Well leave Gotham, I’ll make up some lie about you and everyone will hate you again!”

“Lila, what makes you think we care anymore?” Marion drawls, honestly they had much bigger things to worry about today than Lila, “It’s been so long I have no desire to be their friend again,”

“Then I’ll have to step it up!” Lila smiles nastily, Marinette catches Damian at the end of the hall phone out and has to keep the smile off her face, “Everyone will hate you so much they’ll really bully you and make your lives miserable! Do all the things I say you do to me!”

“Like push you down the stairs?” Marinette raises a brow, subtly nudging Marion to look at Damian.

“Yes,” Lila crosses her arms, looking smug.

“And destroy your property?” Marion catches on, even braving a little wave to the camera.

“Yes,” Lila scowls like they’re stupid for not understanding.

“Spread nasty rumors about you?”

“Yes!” She snaps at Marinette.

“Every time you’ve ever lied that we were mean to you?”

“Yes!”

“Great,” Marinette claps her hands, looking over to Damian. “You got all that?”

“I did indeed,” Lila pales as he comes up behind her, “I suggest you keep to yourself and not influence my decision on what to do with this footage more so,”

“I- you can’t- wait!”

“Get out of my sight,” Damian scowls, it being a lot more effective on her than Marion as Lila scuttles away.

“Dami have I told you that I love you?” Marion grins, giving Damian a side hug.

“Don’t be melodramatic,” Damian tries to push him off but Marion just latches on tighter.

“I loooovvvvveeeeee you soooooooo much,”

“That's it I’m no longer sending this footage to your class,”

“Dami nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo,”

Marion somehow, somehow manages to keep it up until they reach the car. Alfred promptly forces Marion to drink a glass of water much to Damian's relief. Since Marion had ruined his voice with his little stunt there wasn't anyone to fill the silence. Marinette kept trying to distract herself, looking out the window and fidgeting with her clothes, they were in for quite the show, which would be great if they weren’t the main attraction.

Marinette can see Damian keep glancing over at her. She can see how he goes to say something several times before stopping himself. It breaks her heart to see him become more downcast the longer they ignore him. She looks to Marion for support, but he just taps his fingers to an erratic beat. He meets her eye just grimacing, she nods relieving the pressure from him. The atmosphere in the car grows stifling on the too-long journey to Wayne Manor. Marion practically leaps out of the car before the car even rolls to a stop.

Marinette follows Damian out of the car, watching as he walks more stiffly to the manor. She follows without the easy silence they usually have. They are guided to a room where everyone was waiting, technically family or not Bruce had given them a brief of every last one, and had likely done the same for them.

“What's going on?” Is Jason's immediate question, Selina slips into the room behind them.

“Is this about the rumor?” Tim asks, papers in one hand coffee in the other.

“Yes!” Marion points at him, nervous energy coming through his erratic movements, “And no,”

“It's really less of a rumor and more a very lucky guess,” Or unlucky depending on how this goes , Marinette adds privately.

“…. What?” Dick asks confused, everyone else either in thought or with dawning realization/horror.

Bruce slides a sheet of paper forward, on it a genetics test she isn't going to ask how he got a hold of.

“WHAT!” is chorused across the room, making Marinette flinch at the noise.

“Welcome to the family,” Dick pulls the two into a group hug, and is this what Damian feels like when Marion hangs off of him? The big brother hug?

“Wait... but who…” Tim trails off, looking far too tired for this conversation.

“Selina,” Bruce looks uncomfortable with all eyes snapping to them.

“Of course,” Jason mutters with a surprising amount of venom, knuckles white.

“This is unacceptable!” Is Damian’s outcry hands slamming onto the DNA test, she can feel Marion flinch beside her.

“How long have you known?” Dick turns hurt puppy dog eyes to Bruce, the hurt behind it making even Marinette’s stomach churn.

“What about-” Jason cuts himself off, glancing at the twins mysteriously.

“Excuse me” The twins jump at Alfred’s voice talking quietly to them, they get released by Dick who goes to Damian, getting brushed off, “But it may be best to give them all some time to process,”

They nod, slipping out of the room with the butler, leaving behind a mess of yelling as the door closes. They stand outside in silence for a moment before Marion breaches it.

“Well… that went well,”

“Ah Patrol the perfect place to ignore feelings and take them out on other people,” Marion stretches, looking over Gotham city. Marinette shakes her head at his antics, focusing instead on the fight in the alley below.

“Seems like we’re not the only ones,” She watches as Robin tears through the goons one by one, alone with violence she hasn't seen from him yet. Marion looks down as well, being the first willing to get in between the angry Robin and his angst.

“Hey there little bird,” Songbird drops down into the alley, Robin doesn't even spare the two a glance, “Let's try not to give the doctors a harder time than usual kay? I mean it’s Monday no one wants to deal with that,”

“It’s Tuesday,” Robin smashes another face in as if the date was the main complaint about what he was doing.

“Right, regardless, what's up?” Sparrow moves forward to take down the last thug in a much… nicer way.

“Nothing,” They both match him with equal stares of disbelief until he caves, “... my position is being challenged,”

“For Robin?” Songbird asks, something in Robin’s posture gives him away, “I know we joked about the name but we weren’t-”

“Not you,” He snaps, grappling hook taking him out the alley.

“Civilian life then?” Sparrow guesses, following him onto the rooftops, “We know a thing or two about that,”

Robin ignores them speeding up to run across Gotham. They let him for a while going to a spot that had a great view of the city. Marionette nods at Songbird when Robin lands on a gargoyle.

“I don’t know who they are, so I can’t speak for them,” Songbird lands in front, cutting off the best exit for Robin to jump to the next building, ignoring his look of irritation, “But I know you’re amazing and skilled enough not to be replaced,”

“Doesn't matter, that's just the way things go,” Sparrow lands behind them, crossing her arms as Robin seems to debate with himself, “Besides... it’s not just regarding skill,”

“Did you talk to them about it?” She asks, he pivots around to look at her, or rather glare, “Do you even know they want to take your place?”

“... No,”

“Alright then, just consider that maybe they’re not trying to hurt you,” Songbird rests a hand on his shoulder, which he surprisingly allows. He guides Robin to sit down as they do, looking over the city from atop the gargoyle.

“... This is how all the other Robins have been replaced,” He says after a time.

“And what? After that they all went ‘oh well guess it’s time to live a quiet life’,” Songbird’s comment lessens Robins frown, it might even be able to be classified as a smile for him.

“No, of course not,”

“Then there's no need to worry,” Songbird shrugs, kicking his legs no fear for the street far below him. “If you do get replaced, and I don’t think you will,” Sparrow adds quickly, “I have no doubt you will become something even greater,”

“... I’m meant to become Batman, it’s my birthright, and now it’s being challenged,” Robin reveals likely fatal information in the wrong hands, she prided herself in the trust that he thought they were the right hands.

“Again, talk to them about it,” Marinette suggests, rubbing a small circle into his shoulder.

“... They don’t even know?” To that Songbird bursts with laughter, offense crossing Robin's face.

“They don’t know then why are you panicking?” He laughs, lessening the tension in the air, “You’re worried they’re going to claim a title they don’t even know about,”

“....” Robin goes silent after that and they let him mull it over for some time. Marinette can tell Marion is judging when it’s best to pull him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Heard you beat Sparrow on the swings,” He says randomly, looking out over the city, “Bet I could top you,”

“Yeah right,” Robin scoffs, relaxing a bit as he is broken from his thoughts.

“Well you see I have a secret,” Songbird conspires in a soft tone, despite literally no one being around to hear.

“And what would that be?” Robin sounds condescending, but she picks up the hint of keenness underneath it all.

“Singing,” His grin gives Robin pause.

“First of all that's a horrible strategy, putting energy towards singing instead of swinging,” Robin decides after a minute, “Second you’re horrible at secrets,”

I’ll have you know I’m an excellent secret keeper,” Songbird stands, ruffling Robins hair despite the look of indignation he gives,  “So rest assured this conversation stays between us,”

“... All of Gotham is going to know by the end of the night aren't they?” Robin gives Sparrow a flat look, she smiles.

“Yep,”

“HEy!”

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

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90  @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam @the-one-woman-army @rosesandsailboats @blackmagicforever @zeneralla @ivymala07 @tired-butterfly @Ranger-gothamite @A-star-with-a-human-name @enchanted-nerd @trippingovermyfeet

[evilmuffinlord]

The Density of Acid

New short story from me, not quite in time for Valentines, but still in that spirit. Probably going to be 2-3 chapters long, and relatively short overall. Hope you enjoy. Summary:  Mina likes to think that she's a master of romance, but she might just be a little bit denser than she thought when it comes to a certain someone.

Read it on AO3:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496132/chapters/72461256 Read it on FF.Net:  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13821747/1/The-Density-of-Acid

Teaser below cut.

Mina smiled as she stepped through UA’s entrance gate and flashed her ID to Hound Dog, who was stuck on entrance duty that morning. He nodded to her, but didn’t say anything, which was a little disappointing. Mina liked to start off her day with a friendly greeting, if not a little bit of banter. Midnight was good for that, always giving the girl a warm hello and then sharing the latest romantic gossip that had made its way to the teacher’s lounge. As a teacher, Midnight got gossip from all of the courses at UA so she always had something juicy to spill, which Mina greatly appreciated. 

To Mina’s delight, though, she had only made it a few steps past the gate when a familiar voice called out to her.

“M-m-morning, Ashido!” Midoriya called, pushing his way through the crowd of oncoming students as best he could. It was made harder by the fact that he seemed to be compelled to stop and apologize to everyone he bumped into. He wasn’t quite as enthusiastic with it as Iida might have been, since he didn’t actually bow to everyone, but it did make for a bit of a scene.

Chuckling at the sight, Mina made her way over to the edge of the walkway, out of the way of most of the crowd of arriving students. A few seconds later, Midoriya joined her, a little flushed from exertion and embarrassment.

“Morning Midori! Having a good day so far?”

He nodded enthusiastically at that and launched into a story about how he had run into Kamui Woods and Mt. Lady on his way to school. According to him they were out on patrol, but to Mina it sounded a lot more like the two of them had been out on a date and had been embarrassed to be caught out. It explained how Midoriya had managed to wring an autograph each out of the two of them, as well as some tips on naming super moves. 

In the past Mina might have been worried about the conversation with Midoriya making them late to class, giving Aizawa yet another reason to lecture her. At this point, however, she’d  learned to budget her time in the mornings, giving her plenty of time to chat with Midoriya and still make it to class with time to spare. 

Chats with him had become a regular fixture of her morning routine, and one that she had grown to look forward to. He might be awkward and a bit overly obsessed with heroes and heroism, but he was also a surprisingly fun guy to hang around with. That dedication to heroes came in handy when you were training to be one, and he was always happy to offer some suggestions for new ways to use or train her Quirk. 

They didn’t just talk about heroism, though. One of their favorite topics to chat about was old movies. It turned out Midoriya had barely seen any of the classic movies, much to Mina’s surprise. She wouldn’t exactly consider herself a movie buff, but her father was, and he had instilled a love of old cinema into her. As such, she had decided to take Midoriya under her wing and give him a new recommendation every week. 

It actually proved way more amusing than she would have thought. Midoriya watched each recommendation within a day or so and reported back on exactly which parts he enjoyed, as well as what he thought of the movie as a whole. It was really refreshing to hear his takes on things, and his reactions to decades old surprise twists were absolutely hilarious. Honestly, Mina was half tempted to have a movie night over a video call, just to see his reactions in real time. She’d need to find a good movie for that, though…

Suddenly, Mina noticed that Midoriya had gone strangely quiet. Normally, once he got going on heroes he continued right up until the first bell rang. Now, however, he was acting like he had the first day that he had called out to her in the morning. His gaze was firmly fixed on the ground, and he was shuffling from foot to foot with a nervous energy.

“Everything okay, Midori?” Mina asked. 

If it had been someone else, she might have put a comforting hand on their shoulder, but Midoriya didn’t seem to like being touched. The last time she had touched him had been a pat on the back after a successful training exercise. He’d skipped back from it like she’d stabbed him with a hot poker, his face flushing red from surprise and fear. 

She’d felt awful about it, and had done her best to keep the touches to a minimum since. It was hard, though. She and her family were very hands on with each other, quick with a hug or just a comforting hand on someone’s shoulder while they walked by. Even Mina’s older brother, the absolute bane of her existence, would always ruffle her hair affectionately when she got home from school. Having someone that she was close to who she couldn’t touch like that was difficult. But she’d manage. Having Midoriya as a friend was worth it, she was sure. 

“I-I’m fine,” Midorya finally said, sounding anything but, “It’s just, um… y-you know how you recommended I watch that movie, Casablanca, the other day? W-well I was looking it up, and I saw that there’s a theater near here doing a showing this weekend. So… I was just wondering if… maybe you—”

Read the rest on AO3 or FF.net!

[eclecticwordblender]

Since @askhindumyths had us constrain our inputs, here’s my take on the Mahabharata High school AU. Sorry I’m too late to the party.

No character is related to another unless stated otherwise.

This post is gonna be a series. If you go through all of it, I love you already xoxo.

First things first: I welcome you to the world of Hastin High, the finest school in the country.

Foundation:

Shantanu:

The founding father. He made the school what it is today.

After he divorced his first wife, Ganga, he had a new found flame in his eyes. Ganga took full custody of their son, Bheeshma.

Shantanu gets all geared up, he wants to be a business tycoon while also equally wanting to shape lives too.

The school becomes the best of it’s kind soon, education and ECAs accessible to all.

Satyavati:

The first headmistress.

Timeless beauty and an unmatched charmed.

Students crushing on her since day one.

Is the young-ish English teacher that can steal your heart with her sparkling smile.

The principal is her fan too.

Introduces new rules for the better but they somehow get messed up.

Senior year students always search for excuses to go talk to her and spend time with her, oblivious to her love affair with their principal.

Obviously so many hearts broke when their marriage was announced.

History:

Years down the lane both Shantanu and Satyavati decide to retire.

Satyavati demands her kid be the next owner.

Shantanu who wanted Bheeshma to take over eventually has to give in. Bheeshma says he’ll be the principal, let his step brother be the owner.

The owner dies of lung cancer real soon, a chainsmoker. AND BHEESHMA TAKES OVER.

Present day staff:

Bheeshma:

He’s old, like REALLY old.

The year he was born in is taught about in History.

Why does the bygone generation’s boomer have to be the principal!?

Everyone is so sick of his reluctance to embrace change.

Can be very biased and annoying, is intelligent, an absolute genius tbh, yet doesn’t seem to use his own braincells.

“WHY AM I BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE!?”

Vidur:

The school counsellor.

He’s too wise for this place. Face palming, ALWAYS.

Perpetually sick of everything.

Will opt out if he smells danger.

Very approachable but also extremely diplomatic.

Is your friend, but is he, really?

“Everyone is so stupid!”

Dhritrashtra:

“I’m the owner of this place bow down y’all.”

Won’t listen to a single good advice.

Again, EXTREMELY BIASED, absolutely antagonist views as compared to Bheeshma.

Is so impossibly problematic and stubborn makes you wanna kick him out.

Nepotism level- OMG.

Extremely biased towards his son.

A rumour says that he once cancelled school for a week only because his son was sick during basketball matches. His son isn’t even that good tbh.

Kunti:

Teaches Geography.

Looks so cute you could fall in love with just the sight of her huge gorgeous eyes.

Seems to be a sweetheart, can be a total b*tch though.

Claims to be absolutely impartial but tends overly favour this one kid in class.

Is also EXTREMELY possessive and protective of him.

It is rumoured that she had quite a beef with a girl student once because she had a fiasco with her very dear student.

Some say that the school’s PTI never misses a chance to flirt with her.

“Who wants the opportunity to carry my stuff to my staff room table today xoxo?”

Gandhari:

Can’t seem to control the class.

Is too sweet. To a point where it’s faulty.

Doesn’t teach very well, however, gives the best moral lectures in the staff room.

Has suspiciously beautiful hair, TO EVERYONE’S ENVY.

Always ends up sending the wrong kids for the right causes to the principal’s office.

Shakuni:

The best maths teacher there could ever be.

Unbelievably high IQ.

Shares Vidur’s diplomatic skills, but better.

Extremely partial, doesn’t even try to hide it.

Can control kids nobody else in school can.

Has very amazing manipulation skills.

Has a v weird enimity with this one kid, Krishna. Everyone in school loves a Shakuni-Krishna verbal face off.

Enters class on the first day: “We are already way behind with the syllabus.”

Still manages to finish the course before anyone else!?

Dronacharya:

Soccer coach.

Nepotism skills, second only to Dhritrashtra’s.

Discriminates amongst his team A LOT.

Thinks too high of himself.

Has a MAJOR feud with the basketball coach.

“This kid has potential to do better than my fav, imma try to sabotage this guy’s entire career.”

Drupad:

Basketball coach.

Very arrogant lesser than Drona anyway.

Doesn’t like people.

Has a weird obsession with his basketball and whistle.

Extremely progressive mindset.

“I don’t like people. But I can tolerate you. Can’t think of a better compliment to give.”

Balram:

Is the youngest teacher in school. Joined recently.

Teenage heartthrob.

Tries to act all strict but is a total softie.

Already done with kids.

“Okay!! Which one of you bratty kids pulled this prank on me today!?”

Secretly enjoys being pranked by his students.

Is looked up to as an elder brother figure.

Kripacharya:

There isn’t much to say about him, THE MAN LITERALLY MINDS HIS OWN BUSINESS.

Won’t say a word until asked to.

Pandu:

Is only relevant because Bheeshma likes him.

We don’t even know why he’s there in school.

Obviously he takes his classes. That’s all he does in limelight though.

Dodges classes even more than the students who frequently bunk. Can be found in school’s garden. Aimlessly enjoying nature.

“I don’t feel like teaching today.”

Madri:

For validation purposes is the gossip queen (not in a bad way though).

Otherwise, Is just there.

Vyasa:

Doesn’t like limelight.

But honestly, does a lot of important work around the campus.

Is responsible for the school magazine. Marvellous writer, NO CAP.

No one knows him well enough. Yet he is the most respected person here.

Pashuram:

Cricket coach.

OG sportsman in the campus.

Even older than Bheeshma.

The man has been there since Shantanu!?!?

Practically built the school with Shantanu.

However, is absolutely irritated by how the institution functions now.

“I’ve had enough. Can I retire PLEASE!?”

Can’t get himself to quit his job though.

Shiva:

Just comes and goes.

Guest teacher.

Has a great influence over most people.

Literally just comes and goes.

Ambika:

Physics teacher.

Not very interested in the staff room gossip or gossip in general.

Cannot live without her bestf.

Ambalika:

Chemistry teacher

Ambika’s bestf.

Introvert. But can talk for HOURS to her her bestie.

Does the bare minimum.

Amba:

Hates stereotypes attached to teachers or students or anyone at all.

Too much rage in her.

Rumoured to have a thing for Bheeshma- the “Thing” remains ambiguously unknown.

Is a true feminist. For this reason, two of the students- Panchaali and Satyabhama, admire her way too much.

Sees herself in this student- Sikhandi/Sikhandini.

“If you wait for a man’s help, you will keep waiting forever” - how she begins EVERY class.

(Imma tag people in the fandom coz no one’s gonna read so much otherwise and I need attention to matter in life :/)

@bigheadedgirlwithbigdreams @soniaoutloud @lemponkoira @1nsaankahanhai-bkr @chaanv @hoeticulture @supermeh-krishnafan

Since I’m being an attention wh*re: @incorrectmahabharatquotes

[seiin-translations]

2.43 S1 Chapter 1.6 - Young Yunichika

6. ENTRY SHEET

If I get anything about volleyball wrong, let me know

Translation Notes

1. Tokyo is called a city, but it’s treated as one of the 47 prefectures since it’s so big. Its official name is Tokyo Metropolis or Tokyo-to (東京都)

Previous || Index || Next

His class duties took longer than expected and he rushed out of the classroom later than usual. As soon as he turned the door at a right angle, he ran into Itoko coming out of the classroom next door. He barely caught her wrist when she bumped her face against his collarbone and got bounced back.

“Ow… Yuni? That’s dangerous, you know.”

“I didn’t know. You’re the one who was looking away.”

While insulting her back out of habit, he was inwardly flustered because her wrist was thinner than he thought, and immediately let go.

“Hmm? Are you going to club now?”

Itoko let out a “Hmm?” with a rising inflection when she looked at Kuroba’s bags. He was feeling like he had been using the enamel bag he carried on his shoulder for a long time lately. Starting this month, they would be wearing their summer uniforms, and his t-shirt could be seen from the front of his wide-open shirt.

“Do your best, sports lad.”

“Don’t, don’t make fun of me!”

“How? I wasn’t. Wasn’t I praising you?”

“You sound like you’re looking down on me when you say it like that.”

“Even if I wanted to look down on you, I can’t!”

She gestured to compare the heights of their heads by holding up her hand. When he felt an itchy feeling down his back and bent back, Itoko leaned forward on her tiptoes and looked up at him from under his chin.

“W-what? Don’t get so close to me, it’s weird.”

“You got taller again, haven’t you?”

“Huh? R-really?”

Now that she said it, the position where Itoko’s face bumped into him was considerably lower. Recalling the scent of her shampoo, the itchiness ran down his back again.

***

“One-seventy-nine-point…zero.”

“It’s true! I did grow taller!”

It had been a long time since they measured their heights at that scale on the door of the equipment room. He smoothly removed himself from beneath the powder drink box that was held up by Haijima and checked the scale for himself.

“Hm. Isn’t it…nine-point-two? Don’t cut it off.”

Haijima didn’t even hide his tongue click when he corrected him. Haijima was 176.9cm. Even without being jealous of Kuroba, they were growing together, but he didn’t like the fact that their height difference of 2.3cm wasn’t shrinking even a millimeter. Well, I’m in a good mood now, so I can tolerate Haijima’s aggression.

“Fufu…Fufufufu…I’ll be one-eighty soon, with this.”

“Don’t your knees hurt?”

“It doesn’t bother me that much. It just feels a bit uncomfortable.”

He answered, tilting his head as he bent and stretched his knees. “You’re too healthy,” Haijima said, half-opening his eyes with a look of resentment.

“Does your knees hurt?”

“They do. I can’t even sleep some days.”

“Ho. Heh. So that’s how it is.”

“Tch…that loose face is pissing me off.”

Currently, there were eight active members on the boys’ volleyball team. There were some dropouts during the intensive spring break practices, but three people joined miraculously in the new school year. They could be in matches if they had seven people, but it was great that they could have one member in reserve (Since it was six-people volleyball, there were six people standing on the court at the same time, but the player specializing in receives called the libero could be registered separately, and they rotated while replacing a player on the court).

Within the club, Kuroba was the tallest, and his position was outside hitter as well as opposite hitter. Simply put, they were the positions that spiked the most. Next was Haijima, whose position was the immovable setter. It was the position where one set the ball up. And after him was Nagato, who was 175cm tall and also a third-year like the two of them, and his position was the center. It was a role that was the center of the blocking in front of the net and to act as a decoy. Other than those three, the rest were on par with the average middle school boy, and none of them were outstandingly tall enough to surpass 180cm. It was undeniable that they didn’t have the fighting power, but those who had good physiques drifted to more popular clubs.

“We’re having a meeting!”

The advisor called for them to gather while they were being noisy in front of the equipment room. Their ghost advisor, who had been grumbling about his holidays been used up for accompanying their club activities, seemed to have gotten more enthusiastic about it in the course of going along with them seriously. Lately, he had started to cooperate with practice, not just watch, and he was studying from the coach’s manual.

Haijima’s frank way of doing things and his single-mindedness towards volleyball infected everyone else before they knew it. An unfamiliar but not unpleasant something permeated their cells and remade their bodies unnoticed—.

It had already been three months since that incident with Yorimichi before spring break, but there was still a faint scar on Haijima’s right temple. If you asked him if there was any change in Haijima’s personality after that incident, he could tell you that there was absolutely none at all, and that he was still the same volleyball fanatic who went his own way.

But thanks to that…he felt in his body that he had gotten better. This week was better than last week, today was better than yesterday, and he was able to move up a level. Kuroba especially liked the back-row attack hit from right in the center of the court. Hitting from there, he was able to jump the highest, hit the hardest, and get the best view.

“This is the entry sheet for the middle school prefecturals. This year it’s two days from July twenty-six to twenty-seven.”

In a corner of the gym, they sat in a circle with the advisor in the center. Except for Haijima, everyone peered at the sheet curiously and said, “Wow, this is?” They had a few practice games with the middle schools in the city, but now it was time for the summer prefectural tournament, their first official game.

“It’s right after we go into summer vacation.”

“You get to play around for the rest of summer if you lose,” their advisor let slip out of his mouth, then cleared his throat when Haijima glared at him. Kuroba had almost blurted that out as well, but he was glad he hadn’t. “Ahem. Well of course since we’re going to compete, our goal is to win. I was told that for last year’s schedule, the first day was the first and second rounds, and the second day is the semifinals, third-place deciders, and finals. The top three schools will advance to the Hokushin’etsu Tournament.”

“That’s all?”

It was Haijima who raised his voice in surprise.

“No subdivision qualifiers, already the prefectural finals?”

“Hmm, you’re referring to the block qualifiers below the prefectural level, Haijima. To tell the truth, we’re lucky that our block doesn’t have qualifiers. The girls do, but it seems that the number of participating schools for the boys has been below the minimum for the past few years. The number of schools where Haijima’s from can’t be compared to here, and you have to win a lot of block qualifiers before you can get to the prefecturals, right?”

“It’s the metropolitan tournament, but yeah.” (1)

Haijima nodded, and Kuroba and the other members blinked in surprise. As he stared at the entry sheet, his face became tinged with red and his eyes turned piercing. Uwah, it’s that face, the dinosaur-loving boy…Kuroba had an ominous feeling that he was going to say something bothersome and felt like holding his head.

Haijima raised his eyes from the entry sheet, and then looked at his teammates one by one, as though confirming something. His gaze stopped on Kuroba’s face. In a hoarse yet somewhat lively voice that sounded like he was repressing his excitement, he said,

“We win the championship if we win four. If we win at least three, we break through the prefectural tournament.”

A “Huh” slipped out of Kuroba’s mouth, and he gulped.

“That’s surprisingly…”

Close, he was about to say, but felt ashamed at himself for forgetting their position. Excepting Haijima, it was an amateur team where everyone else had no experience with regular games. If they won once, that was all they could ask for, but if they somehow won twice against all odds, then that was a remarkable achievement. They should be thinking that humbly.

However, even the letter H in the word “humble” didn’t exist in the dictionary of the man named Haijima Kimichika. He didn’t have the sensitivity for being embarrassed about his overreaching statement, nor the thought of making a precautionary low estimate.

“We can do it.”

He said confidently, without a hint of doubt or hesitation.

“We’re gonna win.”

He always wondered how this guy could boldly put such words on his tongue as though they existed just for him. Win? Did that mean being the best in the prefecture? Those were words he thought he would never have any relation with. Or rather, he was so far removed from them that they never even crossed his mind. The reason was because he never devoted himself to anything that he wanted to be the best at. Although he was passionate about volleyball now, it wasn’t because he wanted to win, but more because at this point, he just enjoyed the feeling of getting better at it.

But, only four wins. Or even three wins.

It would be easier to become defiant and fight back if it was some eternally distant place like having to win dozens of times or something like that… He still couldn’t accept the fact that it was in a place they might reach if everything went well, and now he was just bewildered.

Previous || Index || Next

[whatiwillsay]

hi sorry if this is the wrong place for this but i feel like shit. everything i touch i ruin. and i know i’m supposed to have perspective or whatever but it’s really hard when right now

my current issue is that i had to make this cooking video for my spanish class. i spent 4.5 hours filming the video two weeks ago, and i spent 3 hours editing it. absolutely no exaggeration. WELL. i had to transfer it off my moms ipad (where i had been editing it) and onto my laptop to turn it in, but the ipad was out of storage. so i thought i’d permanently delete the originals and back ups of all the mini videos i’d filmed of myself cooking since they’re all in the big imovie anyways. but apparently the imovie needs to be able to access those mini videos to work. yay for me!!!

so now the video just. does not work. and i cant recover those files, so it will not work. so i don’t have a project. and this one project is worth 40% of our grade this quarter, and it’s due in less than 6.5 hours (it’s past 12:30am where i’m at lol). and i have nothing. despite the fact that i spent 7.5 hours on this.

and it’s not even like i’d spent so much time bc i was being perfectionist. i promise i was doing the bare minimum, i’m just a super slow worker bc i get confused and lost really easily. and this was a huge project - the teacher gave us 3 weeks to do it because it’s a huge project and it’s supposed to take a ton of time, even for functional students. and for once in my life i was actually able to put in a decent level of effort where i really thought i had a chance of getting a B on this. and i managed to fuck it all up in one night.

im just so sad and frustrated with myself. because this is just one more thing on top of all the other shit i’m messing up. i just emailed my teacher and explained the situation, but it’s so goddamn embarrassing. i barely managed to get a C in this class last quarter. the teacher was so kind and lenient with me and gave me so much more than i deserve. and it’s like. oh great, this is how i repay her?

and then, whats the solution for this? i re film and re edit and spend another 7.5 hours on this? because i really feel like i cant do that. not when i have mountains of other overdue work due for most of my other classes, and it’s all just. so fucking much all the time. and my brain fights me at every single step of the way.

you dont have to respond to this because i know that there’s nothing really to be said here. i need to suck it up, put things into perspective, communicate with my teacher, and get some fucking sleep. but it’s all just a lot right now, idk. so i felt like i needed to tell someone for whatever reason. so yeah. thanks for being here to receive this

aw anonnnn sending you so much love honestly.  this kind of situation sucks but i promise the best thing about it is that it will be over before you know it.  7 hours of more work and then boom and you move on with your life.  and i know that’s a lot of work but in the grand scheme of things you’ll probably not even remember this incident in a month or two even tho it completely sucks right now.

last thing i’ll say is please read this about first and second darts.  it’s a mindfulness concept i love.  essentially first darts are unavoidable pains in life - like the mistake of deleting your project, mistakes happen it’s just a natural part of life.  the first dart hits you and it hurts!  but one thing that won’t help is hitting yourself with a second dart of regret.  don’t beat yourself up about making a mistake, it’ll just make you feel worse!  first darts are a natural part of life but if you avoid beating yourself up and “throwing the second dart at yourself”.  

don’t beat yourself up babe please ❤️❤️❤️manifesting better days on the horizon for you!