#so id move to a new school n my first goal was taking down the school bully which sounds heroic n COULDVE been

[jrueships]

Aries and leo (kyle and demar)

OKAY so this is gonna be a long one, im a leo but i have a lot of aries friends n people who im close to, after like 50 years of knowing me finally get told my bday n they're always like 'i thought you were an aries!' Idk why! So yea, long one!

Leos things are i guess they're like cats? They want your attention n if they don't get they, they will act like people they really aren't. Leos are HUGE actors. They loove actin the villain ESPECIALLY, or acting like they have inflated egos but not REALLY. They love pretending to be bigger than they really are (cough. Ja. Who's diseased with sun leo moon leo.) They HATE accountability for BAD things, they'll take the good things but stay away from any criticism. N i know bcs me using they instead of i to describe my own sign should be telling. People love to put out that leos are super cocky n prideful n they can SEEM to be, but it's really more internal than exterior. Leos just SHOW you exterior so they can SEEM exterior. You'll see a leo show off for his friends (WORST thing for a leo to do is SHOW OFF.. for someone. Because leos will turn into people they aren't all to impress the person they want attention from, they're that desperate), n think he's an annoying asshole! He doesnt have cognizance lol! But, in his head, 2 seconds after doin that he's actually zoned out thinking 'why the hell did i do that that's so embarrassing.'

You know??? Like it's EASY to put em in a box, but they HATE being put in a box. They're always MORE than what a person THINKS, they HAVE to be! That's their REAL pride, not a direct everything is about me, but similar. I know me personally.. i think the most selfish self-preserving thoughts ever. It's scary the lengths my mind will go to scenario me the only survivor of something. I HATE being in places I can't control because of it, like Rollercoasters (but i also love rollercoasters). The WORST and BEST thing a leo can do sometimes is get in their own head. Sometimes you can dig deep n realize that who you were yesterday SHOULDNT be you n it's NOT you n you gotta improve! Othertimes it's selfish thoughts that you don't think are selfish until 2 seconds later, which makes you hate yourself more because 'damn?? I was really ready to jump on that idea?? Wtf is wrong with me man!' LIKE! leos THINK, but they don't want others to THINK they THINK cus they want you to THINK they can do things without THINKING. namean? Like everything they do, they meant to. It's all gotta look entertaining but flawless to people.

N people reminding them they rlly aren't flawless can fly the wrong way. It's always personal, YOU sought out a problem in MY performance because YOU just hate MY jokes or MY shine. You don't ACTUALLY think it's terrible, you think I'M terrible. N that makes them realize everything was an act n that act wasn't even good. N that makes em think n a leo doesn't wanna think cus it CAN lead to progression, but it involves accountability and forced self change. Leos who always say 'oh im not LIKE other leos like im not the STEREOTYPE', you lowkey gotta watch out for. Cus yea, leos do get a stereotype but people gotta understand that it's just STRESSED. Those factors DO apply to leo, just not exactly in the way others perceive it to. A leo that recognizes that will be a leo who's still pretty prideful on the inside yeah, but will always TRY and improve. A leo will always try to be better than they once were. Fueled by pride because they always need a worse comparison, yeah, but when they reach a higher better level.. they ARE becoming better. THEY just gotta realize that even tho who they are now is better than who they once were.. it could be a low bar to beat. They COULDVE been really terrible, switched the flavor, n are now thinkin 'i don't gotta do anything. Im the best i can be now, definitely better than who i once was' n they stop THERE. it's easy for a leo to get stuck in the state of mind they think fits them. What a leo needs is to learn to realize n accept accountability n USE that pride into BETTERMENT.

I'm someone who doesn't take any criticism well because my first thoughts n reactions to it is 'you're disappointed. You hate me'. I have to MAKE myself step back n realize that's not the case. They're trying to actually HELP me. Not hate me. Even with school papers now, i have to look at the feedback, think out all the negative thoughts i instantly get from it, THEN come back like 'yeah this makes sense'

THATS where the aries leo connection comes in i think. People think they won't get along, aries and leo do things without thinking and that can lead to some hurtful or embarrassing stuff, but if they can both realize HOW bad they can get n are willing to try n improve from it, they can be a great duo. They have similar issues n similar solutions, moving on. Leos are quick to forgive themselves in a sense that they're forgiving their PRESENT self n hating the past. An aries can understand that because they work quick. Aries can be mean then flash into forgiveness. Leos and aries can hurt each other, realize they've hurt, and forgive each other as they move into a LARGER friendship FROM that. It seems weird to others, but it's just them! They GET it. They're both easily misinterpreted, and can bond from it.

Because a LOT of people can easily love an aries THEN hate them. An aries can be super sweet n funny, but for people who hold things for a long time with stagnant thought... they can hate them when an aries gets mad. Like my senior English teacher was an aries (zodiac girls in my class asked him), n whenever the previous class put him in a bad mood, he'd take it out on his honors class. Which isn't FAIR, but it's an aries. Aries gotta let stuff out. That's just how they operate. BUT because they gotta let things out, they can ALSO be super deep, direct, n SURPRISINGLY emotional. Lots of people just wrote my teacher off as a grump, but when he WAS happy, he was SUPER nice to us. Super sensitive to what we had to say, gave a big speech a lot about knowing we'd do well in whatever future lied ahead. Keeps in touch with his old students after they graduate. IT'S EASY to write them off as not sensitive, but they ARE. Just like it's easy to write off a leo for acting.

Aries can help a leo because they experience similar issues, but they NEVER act. They act on feelings, but they're FEELINGS. They don't care what they come off as, n i enjoy that a lot! THEY just need someone who's willing to wait it out whenever they're being an asshole. My teacher WAS a good teacher who DID like our class, but his attitude sometimes could just make a student hate him n that's it. Like.. idk. You CAN hate an aries, but you gotta learn you can love em as well. They're not ALWAYS gonna be like this, same as a leo. They both CHANGE. Not always for the better but they change n cus they share that, they can help each other thru the change

I think the beauty in an aries leo relationship is people thinkin they can be super toxic cus it makes sense. But they can a completely adverse direction and turn something terrible into something so beautiful cus THATS what they BOTH can do! Change !!

[theduosetter]

── 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙠 ──

Pairing: Daichi Sawamura x f!reader

Summary: Two strangers laid their eyes upon one another and were captivated at first sight. All they were itching to know was their name yet who knew they were closer to each other than they realized.

Warning(s): cursing, fluff, adorable all around!!

A|N: I hope you enjoy this mini series! Any heart or reblog would be appreciated thank you! Feedback too :D

Links: m.list | writing commissions ✏️ || tip the writer ✍️ ||

Part: 3

"Hurry up, Y/n!" Hinata yelled as he grew impatient.

"I'm coming, Shoyo! You're literally outside of my door." you hung up and grabbed your bag along with your phone.

Opening your bedroom door you saw your best friend standing there tapping his foot. "Was it really necesarry for you to call me when you were already here?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed "I don't want you changing plans last minute."

"I'm not going to bail on you guys." you chuckled "Relax, we are going to hangout together today."

"Alright. Come on we still need to get to the gym to warm up." he grabbed your hand and ran downstairs.

"Shoyo!" you exclaimed "Where's Tobio anyway?"

When you got to the bottom of the stairs you saw the black haired friend sitting down at the kitchen table. A sigh escaped your lips knowing he wouldn't pass up the chance of some milk with your mom's pastries. "I can't quite say that I'm surprised."

"Do you wnt...s-sum?" he muffled as he chewed down on the bread making his cheeks chubbier.

"I'll be fine." you answered unlike the orange hair who stuffed a plastic bag filled with pastries while your mom laughed.

"Why don't I just give you guys some extra ones?" your mom said as she filled another bag with individual wrapped bakery goods.

"We'd appreciate it!" the duo spoke.

"We gotta go or else you'll be late for the game!" you exclaimed pulling each one away from the counter covered in sweets.

"Let me get one more!" Hinata whined, "One more-"

"You'll both end up getting stomach aches if you don't stop!" you retorted.

What seemed like eternity you managed to get them out the door despite the begs. "Please make sure to come back soon boys!" your mom said.

"We'll be back Mrs. (last name)! Thank you for the sweets!" they both yelled in unison.

"I will see you before closing, mom." you kissed her cheek and grabbed the four bentos. "Thank you for the food!"

"Be careful okay?" she waved goodbye at you then chuckled to herself, "I'm glad my baby has her friends."

"Seriously you guys barely have enough time to get to the gym!" you yelled out as you three ran towards the school's grounds. "I told you we had to go!"

"Yeah but your mom's bread was so good!" Hinata jumped "It tasted like a fluffy cloud Y/n!"

"She definitely needs to bring her food to the next school's festival." Kageyama added "Imagine how much attention your mom's bakery would get."

You bit your lip "You're not wrong about that..."

Hinata looked at his watch, his eyes widened. "We only have 15 minutes to practice before the other school get's here Kageyama!"

"You idiot! I told you we had to go!" he moved closer to kick his butt but Hinata managed to dodge his hit.

"Oh shut up! You were stuffying your face too!"

"Why am I friends with these two again?" you muttered.

"Come on pick up the pace y/n!" Hinata and Kageyama grabbed your hands and ran faster than your legs could move.

"G-guys!" you exclaimed "I-I'll end up falling─ slow down!" they were too focused on getting to practice than hear about your objections "If I break a bone I'm telling my mom to ban you from the shop!"

After a five minute run that was supposed to be ten, you finally arrived. Your legs felt like jelly and your sweater was long gone as your body was too sweaty. 'This was worse than a summer day...' you thought, 'I showered and got dressed so nicely only for it to be ruined by those two. Ugh they owe me big time.'

You slowly treaded towards the stairs of the gym, their teammates were too busy preparing to notice you. A sigh escaped your lips upon feeling the cool air coming from the a/c. "This... this is nice." you mumbled. "It feels like a cold freezer..."

"Um... hi." a voice spoke coming from behind you.

"You two are so banned..." you muttered under your breath. Slowly you turned around to come face with two guys. 'They must be their teammates.'

"Are you going to keep blocking the door or can we get through?" the tall guy with the glasses spoke.

"Tsuki." the shorter one mumbled.

"Well?" he stared you down, "We don't have all day."

'He must be the guy that Shoyo and Tobio went up against.' you thought.

"R-right... but you don't have to be so rude you know." you answered.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes walking passed you meanwhile his friend gave you an apologetic smile. "He's usually not mean." he chuckled slightly "Do you need help with something?"

"No... I came to see some friends. But they left me out on the front steps to get ready for your match today."

"Wait... are you really their friend?" he asked.

"If you're talking about the tall one and the ginger then yes." you chuckled, "They said it was fine for me to come today."

"Don't take this the wrong way but..." he scratched his cheek looking away from you, "I'm surprised they have a friend that's a girl, given the way that they are."

"No worries. I understand what you mean especially since we met in very different times." You two walked inside "I'm still surprised they are friends."

"Y/n!" looking to the left you saw Yachi jogging over to you. "Oh hey, Tadashi!"

"I should go warm up, it was nice meeting you!"

"You too Tadashi!"

She then spoke again, "What happened to you? Did you run all the way here?"

"Hinata and Kageyama were too busy stuffing their faces with my mom's pastries. By the time they actually listened to me it was too late and we had to run all the way here." you whined "Now I'm all covered in sweat and I feel disgusting."

"I told them not to get distracted." she sighed "Do you want to freshen up? I have an extra shirt in the club room."

"Really? Id really appreciate that."

"Come on we still have a few minutes before the whole team gets here."

Your feet were too tired to walk yet somehow you managed to go upstairs to the room. "I swear one day those two will be the death of me." you complained.

"Can you blame them? Your mom's sweets are too good." Yachi chuckled.

Shaking your head you went inside and washed your face along with your arms and back. "How are the two doing with their quick attack by the way?" you asked.

"They're getting there, although they still want to make sure it comes out perfect. Coach Ukai said they need to upgrade it or else it won't be enough to get past the blocker's hands."

You nodded, "There's no doubt in my mind they will make it work. From the videos you've sent me those two can work a miracle even if they end up fighting... their goals are the same."

"Oh right I was going to ask you..." Yachi continued "... how did it go with your guy by the way? Did he end up messaging you?"

Biting your lip, you put on the white clean shirt. "He did, he was so nervous and sweet. I apologized to him about what my mom did yet he said he didn't mind because he was nervous about talking to me." you giggled.

"Wait so your mom really did give him your phone number?!"

"She did! I wasn't expecting her to go that far." you answered "But it is kinda embarrasing how she had to do it for me though..."

"Nonesense!" she exclaimed "You just needed that little push well you both did. I'm sure he knows that especially since he took the time to message you."

It was difficult to hide the smile that kept creeping up on your face. "As cliche as it sounds... it really feels like a movie Yachi."

"You're barely at the talking stage but what if he asks you out on a date then to become something more. Are you ready to go that far?"

Closing the locker you turned to face her, "Not going to lie with everything that has happened... I feel scared to say yes. After what happened I never really thought someone would take an interest in me and that I'd feel the same way."

Yachi placed her hand on your shoulder, "It's been at least 4 four years I think it is time to enjoy a new adventure in your life. You may never know what might happen."

"Yeah, I know."

There was a knock on the door, "Hey! Yachi are you almost ready? Kiyoko said she needs your help setting up."

"Yeah! We'll be right there Sugawara!" she yelled back.

"Who's Sugawara?" you asked.

"Come on let's go meet the rest of the team that way it'll be easier." she chuckled taking your hand and walking back to the gym.

There were sudden butterflies in your stomach, although you knew your friends were part of the team, you couldn't but wonder if it was okay for you to come. All you wanted was to make a good impression for the team that gave your friends the opportunity to play.

As soon as she opened the door everyone turned their heads to look at you. Two memebers then ran over to you both making you jump back.

"A new girl!" they yelled in unison.

"She's so cute!" the shorter one exclaimed.

"You didn't tell us you had such a pretty friend Yachi!" the taller one added.

Yachi became flustered, "Ah! T-this is m-my friend! She came to w-watch the game today. Y/n this is Tanaka and Nishinoya."

Feeling embarrassed you gave them a nod, "It's nice to meet you guys."

"She's so adorable!" Tanaka exclaimed "I hope we get to see you around here more often."

"Oh... um sure, if you guys don't mind." you said.

"Where have you been all my life?!" Nishinoya's eyes widened not being able to handle how cute you looked.

"Oh Y/n!" Hinata then jogged over to you guys "Can you help us toss some balls?"

"Yeah let's go-" you went to follow Hinata only to be taken away in the opposite direction.

"You need to meet the whole team." Nishinoya held your hand dragging you over to what seemed to be the third years along with other members.

"Guys! This is Yachi's friend, Y/n! Y/n, this is Suga or Sugawara for short, Asahi, Tsukishima, Tadashi, and Ennoshita!"

You tried to hide your nervousness, "Hello! It's nice to meet you guys, thank you for letting my friends play."

Tsukishima stared at you with an uninterested look, while Tadashi smiled softly.

"How did you manage for Hinata and Kageyama to get along? They were at each other's throats." Sugawara chuckled.

"Well... let's just say it's still hasn't changed much." you rubbed the back of your head. "But we make it work."

"Are you also a first year?" Ennoshita asked.

"Mhm I had to change school's during the second semester." you answered. "Karasuno is my second school."

"Well welcome to the team, I apologize in advance if things get out of control." Sugawara said "They're usually..." he tried to put into words but you understood.

"No worries if I can handle those two I'm sure it won't bother me." you chuckled. "Is this the whole team?"

"We're only missing our captain." Asahi answered, "Where is he anyways?"

Tskushima shrugged "He said something about needing to find his knee pads."

"Anyway we should go get ready before the school shows up. Let's start to warm up." Sugawara said and everyone went off to do their own things. "If you want you can sit down besides Coach Ukai and Mr. Takeda."

"Oh okay." you then looked around "Do you need help with anything?"

"I think we should be good, can you help with picking up the volleyballs and putting them in that basket when the other team gets here?"

"Sure." you were about to grab the cart when you heard the door open again.

"Oh! Daichi come over here!" he yelled.

Your feet froze, the numbness you felt earlier in your legs returned. 'Please... don't be who I think it is...' you thought lowering your head, 'Oh my god what if he gets dissappointed?'

You tried to subtly fix your hair and tuck in the club room shirt. Sugawara noticed, "Are you okay─"

"What is it Suga?" Daichi asked as he walked over to where you both were.

"This is the friend that they were talking about, this is Y/n." he said smiling softly at you. "Daichi?"

You slowly lifted your head to come face to face with those loving brown eyes. Daichi was in the same state as you, shocked yet happy to finally see you.

"Are you alright?" Sugawara asked looking at him.

"Y-yeah..." he chuckled awkwardly "It should have been obvious right?"

Your face was hot, "Y-yeah, I shouldn't have been so dumb."

"You two know each other-"

"This is y/n... the one I've been telling you about." Daichi said.

"Oh...." Suga mumbled "So you're the one he can't stop rambling about." a smirked then formed on his lips.

You blushed, "W-what, really?"

"Suga!" Daichi exclaimed.

"I can't believe after all this time you two would end up meeting each other at school." he said.

"Yeah..." you chuckled lightly "I knew you played a sport but never thought you were my friend's captain."

"I didn't know if it sounded cool─" he admitted.

"Are you kidding?!" you exclaimed "It's amazing! Volleyball isn't an easy sport. The amount of people that depend on you to lead them, yet you still have their backs and know what to say" you smiled looking up at him. "It's admirable really."

Daichi rubbed the back of his head, shyly smiling "Thank you I try my best to keep them under control... but sometimes they don't bother to listen."

"I know how that feels."

Sugawara stood quiet watching you two converse as if you were the only ones. He wanted to say something to get Daichi all flustered but didn't have the heart to do so. 'I am sooo going to have fun with this.' he thought.

[btsficsforthehumble]

adj.: 1. Modern, unfamiliar, or different

2. Not based on or conforming to what is generally done or believed

pairing: reader x ot7

genre: college au; angst, fluff, smut, poly, ot7

Summary: You begin your first year at a prestigious university, set out on achieving your academic goals when a series of men step into your life that change the way you view the definition of love.

Part Five

Warnings: none in this chapter

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: New characters, yay! Just an fyi but I would like to start posting one chapter every week... thots?? Also, I've been thinking of adding a taglist? sksk I know it would be small but I personally love to get tagged when new chapters come out for my faves. If that's something ya'll would like comment so I know!! Alright, back to your regularly scheduled program :)

----

Literature was next. Now this? This you could handle. Always being a bit of an avid reader, you could devour a novel in one night --- and you often did. Finding the hidden meanings between the lines of text, like unwrapping a present, gave you a thrill. You were the person who could debate for hours about the meaning of a symbol in a book, as annoying as that is to everyone else.

Maybe it was the promise of escape, where you could be transplanted into another world, detached from your own, that appealed so much to you about reading. You could lose yourself, feeling the rush of the love affair or the thrill of a dangerous adventure. Coupled with your analytical nature, you felt more than at home in a literature classroom.

With this in mind, you make your way to your next class with more vigor than usual. When you arrive and take a seat, you pull out your materials and wait for class to begin.

Several minutes later, your professor walks to the podium in the front of the room to introduce herself. After several minutes of reviewing the syllabus, she explains the structure of the class. You were to be placed in small groups, to discuss the readings and write a paper at the end of the semester. This made you a little nervous --- having to rely on others to some capacity for your grade always gave you a bit of anxiety.

She began reading out the names of the students belonging to each group, so you listen carefully as to not miss your own name despite your anxious thoughts swirling inside your head.

“... Eum Hee-Young, Gal Ae-Cha, Ree Mun-Hee, you are group seven. Kim Seokjin, Y/l/n y/f/n, Kim Namjoon, you are group eight. Ok Youngsoo…” her voice fades off as you glance around the room, trying to meet the gazes of other searching eyes as your group was announced.

Your eyes meet those of a guy who looked maybe a year or two older than you, with round, wire frame glasses. His mahogany hair was pushed off of his forehead, parted to the side giving him a youthful but put-together look. He holds up eight fingers, looking at you expectedly, and you nod quickly. He picks up his belongings, preparing to move to you as you had empty space in the seats around you. As he slings his backpack over a shoulder, you scan your eyes around the room to try to catch the other member of your group.

To your surprise, your eyes meet those of the same boy you had ogled over yesterday in your calculus class, before it had started. You shyly hold up your own eight fingers, to which he gives a decisive nod to, and begins to make his way to you as well. You can’t help but notice the planes of his back as he bends down to grab his backpack, his wide shoulders tilting making them seem even larger. He is wearing a simple blue button down and jeans, but even through that you could tell his shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, making him have the perfect masculine inverted triangular build.

Slightly embarrassed at your thoughts, you glance at your other partner, now close to you. His oversized yellow knit sweater swallowed him a little, but with the glasses gave him a cute bookish look. His large frame juxtaposed his cute appearance --- he was on the taller side and seemed built as well. You made eye contact, and gestured to the seat next to you for him to sit. The other boy now approaching, you both watch as he takes the other open seat in front of you.

Your group now assembled, you tune back into your professor who was explaining the first text you were to read together. She told you that it was a short love story that relied heavily on symbolism and became a prominent symbol in and of itself in movies and television. Your first assignment was to analyze the symbolism of the text, and come to a more complex conclusion than what the surface of the text presents. You could feel yourself becoming slightly excited to jump into the assignment as she explained.

“You will be given the rest of class to get acquainted with your group members. They will be permanent, bar any issues that may arise. The first assignment is due at the end of next class. While on this first assignment I will be more lenient with grading, please do your best and set a good standard for your groups. Okay, go ahead everyone,” she finishes.

At her dismissal of your attention, you glance back at your group members. The boy with glasses speaks first. “I’m Namjoon, nice to meet you guys.”

“Seokjin, or just Jin,” the other boy gives.

“I’m y/n, nice to meet you both.”

“So, what year and major are you? I’m a third year, and a journalism major,” Namjoon offers. As he speaks, he gives you both a grin that displays deep dimples on both cheeks. He was very cute, you decided. He had a nerdy charm to him, with a build on the beefy side that made you want to cuddle him.

“I’m a first year… and to tell the truth I haven’t decided on a major yet,” you admit, but give them both a smile.

“Ah, hoobae, you are lucky you are with us pros then! I’m a fourth year, and a business major,” Seokjin says with a wide smile.

“Sunbaenim, are you in calculus before this? I thought I recognized you from there,” you downplay a little. You knew he was in that class since you had spent time checking him out in it, but didn’t want to seem creepy.

“I have a recognizable face.” At this he gives a smug look, but is clearly using a joking tone. “Yeah, calculus with Yoo at nine?”

“Yep. That guy goes so fast,” you frown. “But anyways, how do you guys feel about this assignment?”

Namjoon enters the conversation again, “Honestly I’m kind of excited for it. It’s been a while since I’ve done any reading that isn’t research related, which kind of sucks.”

“That does suck. I love to read, that’s why I took this class, actually,” you empathize.

“Yeah? What do you like to read?” Namjoon leans towards you a bit, excited at the prospect of talking about reading it seems.

“Oh, um… I’d say my favorite genre is probably any type of fantasy, I like being able to be in a different world for a bit. Oh, I also like historical pieces, that stuff is always so interesting.” You were a little hesitant to share, afraid he’d judge your preferences.

“I love historical pieces. I think that’s one of the things that lead me into journalism actually, it’s basically writing history for those in the future to look back on. I just think that’s really cool.” His eyes seemed glitter as he talked about something he was obviously passionate about. You felt yourself developing a soft spot for the boy, finding his friendly disposition and slightly nerdy personality to be incredibly endearing. It didn’t hurt he was also very attractive.

“What about you sunbaenim? Do you like to read?” you ask Seokjin, whose head was oscillating between you and Namjoon.

Surprised the attention shifted to him, his eyes widened to give him an owlish look. You are really surrounded by some beautiful men, you think. What do they put in the water here? It would be normal to run across a cute guy here or there, but this is kind of ridiculous. Seokjin himself has a face that is so beautiful it looks like it should have been carved out of marble!

Focus! You have to scold yourself. The boy you were just admiring in your head is now answering your question and you are too distracted to even process what he’s saying.

“... not too crazy, occasionally I guess…” His body language told you that he was slightly embarrassed at not being as enthusiastic a reader as you and Namjoon.

“I’m sure you have hobbies that are cooler than reading then, if I was athletic or creative I wouldn’t read so much either! Namjoon-sunbaenim, I’m sure you agree,” you encourage with a smile, wanting Namjoon to follow suit in making Seokjin feel comfortable.

Thankfully, he catches on quick. “Oh, yeah, I am way too clumsy to do anything more high stakes than page turning,” He chuckles. You and Seokjin both smile at Namjoon’s subtle self-deprecation. They both were sweet, you think. Your earlier fears about working with others subside. “I guess I could say that I do have another hobby though, I actually help out at the school’s radio station for fun,” Namjoon adds shyly.

Jin tilts his head in surprise. “Oh really? I have a friend who…”

He gets abruptly cut off by the professor’s voice echoing through the room, which causes him to stop his thought.

“Hopefully everyone is acquainted now, and is ready to get to work next class. I expect good things from you all this semester. You are dismissed,” your professor says with finality.

The three of you quickly gather your things, ready to merge with the swarm of students streaming out of the door. You give them both a smile, and say, “It was nice meeting you both. See you next class!” to which they give their own farewell.

As you leave, you check your phone out of habit. It seems your intuition is right, as usual.

*Miss me yet?*

Does Taehyung really have nothing better to do?

*What exactly is there to miss?*

You hope that after your curt response he’d get the memo. This guy is such a fuckboy, you think. While you don’t know why he set his sights on you for now, you hope he gets bored soon. While you give that tough persona to him, the truth is you are more sensitive than that. The idea of being used for sex once and then discarded was unappealing, and Taehyung seemed like the type to do just that.

----

Finally home after attending two more classes for the day, which were thankfully much less eventful, you slip off your shoes and let your bag slide off your shoulder to thunk on the floor. You were tired. And hungry, apparently, because your stomach makes some concerning noises as soon as you slip your light jacket off. You make your way to the kitchen at the sound, ready to make a nice dinner and decompress.

When you get there, you see one of your new roommates sitting at the stools for your kitchen counter. This roommate was one that you had connected with immediately, drawn to her blunt but fun-loving aura. Her short stature, shorter than average, gave no warning for her and ‘gives-no-fucks’ attitude. You could tell however, that inside she had a soft heart. Even in your short time together, you had seen glimpses of it here and there.

You learned when you had met that she had moved to Korea from America last year, making her a second year at your university. Her features stood out from the crowd, with brown skin and large curls that framed her face in a halo. She was really quite beautiful. Tia, but called Bean by her friends, which now included you, made you feel welcomed to campus and you were thankful for her.

Wanting to not scare her as you walked into the kitchen, you gave her a greeting. Her head pops up from where it was buried in her phone, which had been drawing her into her own world.

“Hey chickie. Long day?” she asks. Apparently your exhaustion was pretty obvious if she could tell right off the bat. You sigh, bending over to pull some vegetables out of the fridge.

“I just want to know who let me schedule four classes on Tuesdays. They should be in jail,” you complain.

She gives you an amused look, watching you now stand at the cutting board to prepare your food. “I think that person was you, sweet thing.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. If I could go back in time and slap my past self I would,” you grown with your head tipped back. She lets out a laugh at your expense.

“Don’t laugh at me unnie! I’m going to pass away from exhaustion over here!” you try to say seriously, but can’t help but let out a little giggle. “What were you doing with your head buried in your phone, huh? Are you talking to someone?” you tease, pointing your knife at her with your other hand on your hip.

“Why, do you wish it was you?” She wiggles her eyebrows, giving you a side smirk. You knew she was deflecting, so you lift your eyebrow and give her a flat expression, waiting for her real answer. “Ugh, it’s nothing. There was just this really cute girl in my class today, and I tried talking to her but she didn’t really seem like she liked me… and I may have just been looking at her social media,” Tia admitted.

Now at the stove, stirring your dinner, you look over your shoulder to say something that would hopefully ease her anxiety. “You know that you can come on strong sometimes, maybe she’s just a little shy, ya know? Maybe try again with a softer approach,” you offer. “What is there not to like?”

She gives you a wide grin to match your own at your last remark. You both giggle, any tension in the air from Tia’s concerns gone. Dinner now finished, you grab two bowls and serve you both. You both slip into easy banter, almost like you two have been friends for years. You hope that you will be, someday.

[ssamie]

four. friends and foes

oikawa tooru x fem langa!reader

(hq x sk8 the infinity)

warnings: spelling mistakes, swearing, 2k+ words, u have langa’s blue hair sorry 

gen masterlist.            “snow” masterlist.

"m..mom!!" y/n's scream echoed throughout the house, startling nanako who was putting on her shoes 

"wha- y/n?! what's wrong?!" nanako shrieked in panic as she sprinted towards her daughter's room. nanako merely sweat dropped as she was met with y/n frantically squeezing into her clothes, all while brushing her hair as well

"why didnt you wake me?!" she exclaimed with teary eyes "im late!!" 

"sweetie, i did!" nanako said with a nervous laugh "i called for you and you replied but you didn't come down so i thought you were getting ready.." 

y/n paled and grunted as she recalled the late night up until the early morning's events. 

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

"i should call reki.." she muttered to herself "ah, but what if he's busy? or asleep?" 

suddenly, the ringing of her phone startled her, causing her to jump in fright. she cautiously approached the device and flipped it over to check the caller ID. 

"its reki!" she gasped in delight as she giddily plopped on her bed and answered the call "hey reki!" she greeted with a smile, although he couldn't see it. 

"hey y/n! i was calling to check up on you!" reki replied "how have you been? is the school nice?" 

"im good! and the school is.. okay.. though, ours was more fun" she said. "what about you? are you at S-" 

"IS THAT MY PRECIOUS Y/N?! give me that phone, you brat!"  "hey! that's mine-" 

she blinked in confusion and gulped, patiently waiting for the commotion on the other line to settle. "um who is this?" she asked in a wary tone as she listened to the person's heavy breathing 

"my eve.." 

she shrieked and shook as she felt the chills travelling from her head to toe. she threw the phone on the bed and cautiously backed away. "no way, it's adam" she shuddered ".. creepy.." 

later on, reki ended up retrieving the phone, and they had a never ending conversation. 

they were forced to hang up by shadow, seeing as they had been talking each other's ears off up until sunrise. 

"y/n its time for school!"  nanako called out from downstairs. 

y/n sighed and sluggishly peeled her eyes open. "y-yeah!" she replied "im just gonna.." she trailed off 

and in a blink of an eye, she had fallen asleep. 

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"i dozed off" she groaned and repeatedly slapped her face 

"sorry mom, you don't have to drive me. i'll skate on my way" she said with a sigh as she hastily grabbed her bag and school tie 

"are you sure, sweetheart?" nanako asked worriedly "you might as well take the bus if you're already late.." 

"no i'll be fine." she dismissed "bye mom!" 

nanako watched her sprint out of the house, only for the bluenette to panic and sprint back in. "i forgot my skateboard!" she exclaimed

"geez.." nanako chuckled "stay safe, okay!" she yelled out the window as she watched her daughter skate away 

"i will!— ouch!" y/n shrieked out as she hit a huge rock and fell on the ground. "what is with her luck today..?" nanako sweat dropped as she continued to wave her goodbye. 

"its my second day and im late.." y/n gritted her teeth as she sighed in annoyance. "though its fine.. i got to talk to reki, after all.." she smiled 

on her way to school, right at the corner of her eyes, she caught a glimpse of the same brunette from yesterday. "oikawa-san..?" she muttered in confusion

it seems he was facing the same dilemma as her. the boy was hastily putting on his shoes, and he didn't even have the time to tie it, as he sprinted out of his house. 

"stupid iwa-chan! he didn't pick me up! he didn't even wake me!" oikawa exclaimed with a groan 

y/n shook her head and simply let him be. instead, she focused on her goal, which was to arrive before the bell rings. 

"ah shit. six more minutes til the bell.." she heard oikawa grumble. she raised a brow in confusion, curious as to why his voice seems to grow louder and louder, as if he was nearing her. 

"and my phones about to die- ah!" oikawa yelped in surprise as he collided with what seems like a person's back. 

"ah sorry!" she shrieked out as she tried to balance herself. she looked up to see his phone about to fall on the ground, which would undoubtedly result in a huge crack. in an instant, she kicked her board around and leaned back to reach for the device before it could make impact with the ground. 

"sorry! um- i should've avoided you.." y/n muttered sheepishly as she made her way towards him. 

"oh.. yeah its fine.." oikawa mumbled back as he stared up at her with widened eyes. "here's your phone." she said as she placed the phone in his hands with a wary expression. 

she was quite worried that he'd kick her out of the team for bumping into him and almost breaking his phone, more so, making him even more late. "..." she stood there for a second longer, awkwardly shuffling on her feet and fiddling with her board in her hands, simply waiting for him to say something. 

"i'll see you in school, oikawa-san." she said with a curt nod 

with that, she hopped on her board and hastily made her exit. 

oikawa watched with a smile of amusement as she barely missed a street bump and almost lost her balance. "so it was her.." he mumbled with a smirk as he looked back to eye the house where their new neighbors, which he now knew was y/n, moved in. 

"i'll have to pay her a visit sometime." he chuckled. he was then pulled back out of his trance by his ringtone, which was playing obnoxiously loud. 

"hello?" he spoke into the phone. on the other line, he could hear iwaizumi's aggravated huffs, followed by a silent yell saying;

"dumbass, you're late! where the hell are you?!" iwaizumi whisper shouted. oikawa figured he was probably trying to hide his phone from the teachers. 

"huh? late?" he looked at the time on his phone and paled. 

"OH CRAP, I'M LATE!" 

"what happened to you this morning?" rika asked her with a hum of confusion "i stayed up late to talk to reki.. i guess i forgot to mind the time." y/n answered with a sigh 

"hey, whyd oikawa-senpai come in late today too?" "yeah, he arrived just minutes after the new girl." "maybe it's a coincidence" 

y/n overheard their mumbling though she paid them no mind. "is oikawa-san really that popular?" she asked rika 

"hmm? oh yeah. girls love him! he's really good at volleyball so i guess i get why he's famous." rika explained "though it's mostly because of his looks." 

"oh.." y/n hummed in understanding. "what about you then?" 

"what about me?" rika asked. "do you like him too?" y/n asked. rika stared at her blankly, letting silence engulf them, making y/n squirm in slight awkwardness. 

suddenly, she laughed and playfully slapped y/n in the shoulder. "hahah no way!" rika exclaimed "i don't have eyes for anyone except my yuuta!" she said with a dreamy sigh 

"yuuta..?" y/n muttered in confusion "is that your partner..?"

"yup! hes my boyfriend! he's not popular like oikawa but.. he's the best!" rika exclaimed with a huge grin. "i see.." y/n nodded with a smile. "i wonder what it's like to have a boyfriend." 

"oh~" rika grinned mischievously "curious, are you? ~" she cooed "i.. i guess so.." y/n mumbled in embarrassment as she fiddled with her hair with a huff

"heh. don't worry! i'll find you a great boyfriend! my yuuta knows a guy named inumaki! you'll definitely get along!" rika cheered "i'll set you up!" 

"no!" y/n quickly declined 

".. why not?" rika frowned in confusion. "inumaki's nice i swear!" 

"no.. its just that.." y/n chuckled sheepishly "i promised reki i won't find a partner while we're apart" she said. "wow.. you're really loyal to this reki guy." rika hummed "but you're not together right?" she asked 

"ah.. no.." y/n answered with a pained smile 

"i can sense i shouldn't have asked that." rika sweat dropped. "whatever. can i see a picture?" she asked 

"of reki? sure! i have him as my lockscreen!" y/n beamed as she shoved her phone onto rika's face 

"wow, he's actually on your lockscreen.." rika sweat dropped. 

"ooh~ who's this~" a new voice cooed along. 

rika and y/n turned around to face oikawa, who was smiling down at them, and iwaizumi who gave them a small nod. ".. nobody.." y/n replied as she lowered her phone away from their line of sight. 

"eh? but you seemed so excited to be talking about a 'nobody'" oikawa mused as he dragged a random chair closer to her desk and perched himself on it. "hey~ you really got me in trouble this morning y/n-chan~" oikawa cooed playfully 

she flinched and sent him a wary glance. "sorry about that.." she said "i didnt mean to.." she eyed him nervously as he propped his arms in her desk and leaned in closer to her. 

"dont worry y/n-chan! whyre you so fidgety around me?" oikawa asked with a laugh 

"ah its just that.." y/n trailed off "you're not gonna kick me off the team right ?" she asked 

oikawa blinked in surprise and shook his head. "ofcourse not! it's our first time having a manager, i wouldn't wanna mess that up" he said. y/n sighed in relief and slumped back on her chair. 

"stop bothering her shittykawa" iwaizumi huffed from beside them. "even im getting annoyed by it" he said. "eh? you're so mean iwa-chan!" oikawa chuckled "im just trying to be friends" 

"hey hey, isn't that oikawa-senpai?" "he's talking to the new girl?" "i heard she's their new manager!" "geez. i thought she wasn't a threat." 

y/n briefly glanced at the girls and pursed her lips in distaste. it was only her second day here and yet she's already on many people's bad side. and it wasn't even her fault! 

she sighed and averted her attention to her phone, scrolling through twitter to keep up with S and her friends. "huh..?" she mumbled in confusion as she scrolled through the countless tweets raging about 'SNOW' 

"they know about me leaving?" she hummed and shrugged it off. she didn't seem to see the problem with it. though she loved skating with her friends at S, it wasn't like it'd go to ruins if she left. 

right now, her more prominent problem was oikawa tooru. or more specifically his herds of fangirls. 

"im gonna go to the gym." she excused herself as she grabbed her bag and skateboard. "wait! i'll come with!" oikawa said with a smile as he hastily grabbed his belongings and rushed to her side 

"oh. you don't have to" she said with furrowed brows as she tried to discreetly shuffle away from him. "oh please. what kind of captain would i be if i don't accompany our dear manager-chan?" oikawa teased as he slung his bag over his shoulder 

"let's go, y/n-chan~" oikawa cooed, making her sigh. 

"right." she replied curtly with a nod. 

"so cold! we're gonna be teammates soon so you gotta warm up to me, yaknow?" oikawa chuckled 

"i see. i'll try my best, oikawa-san" she said with a faint smile 

oikawa grinned and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "i can't wait when we become best friends~" 

"ah. i already have a best friend. sorry." she turned him down with a deadpanned expression. 

oikawa sweat dropped and chuckled. "was i going a bit too fast?" he said. "dont worry, i'll aim for the boyfriend position instead" he cooed

"ah. i have reserved that position for someone else as well. sorry." 

"geez." 

"okay, so this is the list of the players' positions." coach nobuteru said as he handed her the paper. "right!" y/n replied with a nervous gulp as she read through the list. 

"i see." nobuteru laughed and patted her on the back. "no worries, i'll explain it to you as the practice progresses." 

".. you know what the positions mean right?" nobuteru asked with an amused chuckle. "no sir.." she replied with a glum sigh "i was gonna look it up last night but.. some important matters came up" she said 

"first we have oikawa. he's the captain so i think it's best we discuss him first" he said. "he's our setter and 'service ace'" he said. "he has a natural talent as a setter and his powerful serves are something the opponents are all very wary of." 

as coach nobuteru explained, her eyes followed oikawa as he dribbled a ball and prepared to do a jump serve. "i see.. oikawa-san is-" she got cut off as oikawa jumped and hit the ball with his hand, causing a loud slapping noise to ring across the gym 

oikawa looked over to her with a smug smirk, awaiting her words of praise

".. oikawa-san is really scary.." she finished with a shudder as she looked at the other side of the court which the ball had hit 

oikawa's face dropped at the remark and groaned. "i was aiming for something like 'talented' or 'cool' " he said "instead i got called scary" he sulked, to which matsukawa laughed in response and patted his back 

"better luck next time" matsukawa laughed 

"he's scarily precise and clean with his serves.. if i was to receive that i would probably break my arms." y/n said to coach nobuteru with a chuckle "it's quite impressive, hm?" nobuteru hummed 

"yeah! so awesome!" she cheered as she eagerly wrote down the new found information on her notepad 

from the opposite side of the court, oikawa, along with maki and mattsun listened in on their conversation with varying reactions. 

oikawa was quite overjoyed and smug, seeing as he was quietly bragging to them about the compliment 

all while the duo simply rolled their eyes and playfully punched the brunette 

"i wonder if he could teach me that." she thought out loud as she picked up a ball and poked at it with her fingers 

as quick as he could be, he slithered towards her with a charming smile, more than ready to woo her off her feet. "well, why don't you find out, yourself?" he cooed with a laugh 

"though, i'll certainly be more than happy to teach you" he said with a smile 

y/n looked at him with a brow irked in confusion. she simply smiled back sheepishly as he continued to practically ooze stars and sparkles. his larger hands caressed hers as he too went to grab the ball, though he didn't let go and simply placed it there. 

"oh.. then please teach me how to serve, oikawa-san!" she beamed with a sweet smile 

"..." oikawa looked at her with slightly widened eyes and discreetly cleared his throat to calm his nerves. "a-ah, of course!" he stammered out with a shaky grin 

"im always happy to help out our dear manager-chan" oikawa cooed teasingly as he patted her shoulder with a smile "lets meet after practice if you want" he suggested, to which she responded with an eager nod. 

"alright then" he cleared his throat "i'll meet ya after practice, okay~" he cooed at her 

"okay!" she replied with a smile as she waved him goodbye, watching him run off to the court. 

"ah geez!" oikawa groaned out as he hid and crouched behind a random tarp. he covered his warm and reddened cheeks as he mumbled to himself while iwaizumi peers down at him with a sneer. 

"yo, you're really serious about that crush of yours?" iwaizumi asked with a chuckle 

"of course i am! im many many things but im not a liar, you know" oikawa huffed as he slapped iwaizumi's leg. "yes you fucking are" iwaizumi scoffed and kicked him back "you're not a goddamn saint, shittykawa" he rolled his eyes 

"you better not play y/n. she's one of the only girls who aren't obsessed with you in this school." iwaizumi said with a huff "i would hate not having her around here anymore if that happens." he said

"okay, maybe im just a teeny tiny bit unsure of this crush of mine, but still!" oikawa huffed "i'll update you when i make my mind up!" he said as he sent iwaizumi a cheeky wink 

"man, you really are a shitty person." iwaizumi sighed 

"that was.. not bad for a tenth attempt. not bad at all." oikawa said with a pained smile as he patted her head comfortingly. "oikawa-san.." she whimpered "you're such a liar!" she whined out

"i thought this was supposed to be easy! you made it look so easy.." she sulked

she dusted her pants and picked her board up from the ground. "though i think i'd rather stick to skating after that.." she said

"hey hey, things like this need practice. how'd you think i got better over the years?" he mused. "i guess you're right." she sighed and plucked herself off the ground

oikawa laughed and leaned against the wall, watching her skate around with a smile on his lips. "giving up already?" he cooed tauntingly "wow.. i thought you'd have more resolve than that, y/n-chan~" 

"its not that i lack resolve, oikawa-san" she replied "i just think skating is more fun, that's all" she said as she locked eyes with him and sent him a smile 

"its no fun if i can't play alongside you guys.. so i think i'd rather stick to this, where i can skate with my friends" she said "i mean, i can have fun with skateboarding wherever i am.. i just need a good ramp to boost myself on.." 

she eyed the pieces of frail wood stacked against a bench and grinned. "like that" she said as she pointed to it. 

oikawa spluttered and looked at her with widened eyes. "hey hey wait- don't skate on that thing, you'll fall!" he exclaimed 

y/n paid him no mind and skated towards the makeshift ramp in a fast pace. oikawa watched in distress as she propels herself off the ramp and did a flip mid-air, holding onto her board as she waits for herself to get back on the ground. 

(wtf i suck at describing tricks, idek what they're called sorry lmfao 😭) 

"hey! that's dangerous.." oikawa's voice gradually softened as he now focused on her. 

his chocolate brown orbs trained themselves on her as he watched the lampposts illuminate her from behind, outlining her form and accentuating the beautiful soft blue hue of her hair. 

oikawa gulped as a pinkish hue sprawled itself on his cheeks. his eyes glimmered with admiration as he watched her land gracefully on the ground. 

"what-what was that..?" he squeaked out 

"im not sure" she answered. "it was just a simple trick, oikawa-san." 

"why?" y/n cocked her head to the side and sent him a curious glance, to which he returned with a nervous smile. 

"a-ah, nothing!" oikawa laughed "i've never seen anything like it!" he said "you're really fucking cool, y/n-chan!" oikawa said with a grin as he ran towards her, holding his belongings. 

"you're very cool too, oikawa-san" she returned the compliment with a small smile of gratitude 

"hold on, i gotta call iwa-chan. i have something important to say" he said as he pulled out his phone and showed her iwaizumi's contact 

"oh.. okay..?" she replied with a sheepish smile as she watched him scurry over to the other side of the park with a heavy blush on his face 

"iwa-chan! i-i have some news!" oikawa shrieked out as he shakily gripped his phone. 

"what the hell are you talking about?" iwaizumi huffed out from the other line 

"well.. yknow when i said i'd update you when i make my mind up about liking y/n?" oikawa mused with a nervous chuckle 

"yeah..?" 

"well, i think i'm positive i like her!" 

"oh. okay." iwaizumi sighed "i'll support you i guess. but one thing.." 

"yeah?" oikawa hummed in confusion. 

"you're with her right now right?" "yeah why?" 

"dont you think she might have heard you by now given that you've been screaming to the phone since the start of the call?" iwaizumi deadpanned

oikawa paled and slowly looked behind him, only to sigh in relief as he saw y/n mindlessly dribbling the ball as she sat on her board. "phew, she didn't hear me" he let out a sigh of relief. 

"oikawa-san?" y/n called out "um.. are you done talking? can we go home now?" she asked 

"ah yeah!" oikawa exclaimed "you didn't hear anything right?" he asked nervously 

"oh well.. no, not at all." she said with an awkward smile as she gave him a thumbs up. 

"you're totally lying!" he shrieked in horror "im sorry! i didnt mean to!" she shrieked back. "sorry oikawa-san" she sulked gloomily as she bowed her head. "but all i heard was when you said 'im positive i like her' i swear!" 

oikawa chuckled and let out a sigh of relief. he patted her back and smiled "hey, it's fine. no need to worry" he said 

"but who do you like, oikawa-san? you're every popular so im kinda curious." she said 

"i can help you confess!" she suggested "i heard that japanese people confess by giving a love letter under a cherry blossom tree." 

"ah. no need for that" oikawa meekly chuckled 

"i tried that once. it was a fail since there wasn't any cherry blossoms around. and i didn't actually know how to write in japanese.." she sweat dropped 

"oh so you like someone?" oikawa asked with a smile 

"yeah.. i-i guess you could say that.." she stammered out as she looked down in embarrassment and rolled her board back and forth. "hmm. okay.." oikawa hummed out

she glanced up at him, confused as to why he wasn't as playful as he normally was. though she simply shrugged it off as tiredness and followed him as he walked off. 

"... damn. double homicide." iwaizumi's voice suddenly emitted from oikawa's phone. 

"i- what the hell-" oikawa let out a groan as he plucked his phone from his pocket 

"is that iwaizumi?" she sweat dropped 

"dont mind him let's go home" oikawa said with a playful eye roll as he ended the call "i'll pick you up tomorrow, okay?" oikawa cooed as he watched her skate slowly to match his walking pace.

"oh.. why?" she asked with furrowed brows

"friends walk to school together, right?" oikawa mused

she blinked up at him and chuckled as a smile formed on her lips. "i guess you're right" she said

sorry for the spelling/grammar mistakes if there are any :<

"i'll be expecting you, oikawa-san"

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Could You Be My Little Quarantine?

AU: Mercedes has no excuse to not be zooming with Kurt right now and Blaine has the wrong Zoom ID.

AO3

A/N: This is a product of my late-night story ideas. I could see more from this 'verse developing but I'd need some ideas for what to write. If you have prompts please send them my way. I hope you all enjoy it!

Part 2 Part 3

***

2020

It wasn’t that Kurt isn’t happy for Mercedes. In all the years they’ve been best friends, they've always been supportive of one another. So, it was no surprise to Kurt that she was enjoying her two-week quarantine with her boyfriend. She didn’t flaunt her relationship around Kurt and she made just as much time for him as she always did and Kurt really appreciated it. It meant so much to see her occasionally pushing plans with her boyfriend in favor of talking to Kurt be it Zoom or a regular phone call. Sometimes, she’d cancel because of her recording schedule, which Kurt understood. When he had been rehearsing for a Broadway production of Moulin Rouge!, his schedule was ever-changing.

Tonight was different though because Mercedes had no excuse to cancel on Kurt. She was literally ordered to stay in her apartment. There were no recording sessions, no producers to meet with, and her boyfriend was basically living with her so Kurt’s a little frustrated to be left waiting on Zoom. He’ll give her 15 minutes before texting her. He's still using the college 15-minute rule. As in if the professor doesn’t show after 15 minutes, the class is free to leave. Except, in this case, Kurt was planning to text his friend until she responded.

Kurt did what he usually did while waiting. Played a new word in Scrabble against Carole and went through his recently saved photos (deleting the ones automatically saved from his Instagram Stories) before ultimately opening his fashion Twitter account and scrolling endlessly. He’ll periodically look at the time and note only a minute has passed since he last looked. Until someone who is definitely not Mercedes joins his Zoom meeting room and says hello.

“Hello,” Kurt says, putting his phone down.

“Um hi,” the other man replies. “You’re not Cooper.”

“And you’re not Mercedes.”

“No, I’m not. This is awkward.” He runs his hand through his black curls. “I’m so sorry. I should probably hop off and yell at my brother for giving me the wrong Zoom ID.”

“It’s no problem, my friend’s likely ditching me for her boyfriend. This was a nice surprise.”

“Is it?” he asks. “Cause I feel pretty embarrassed right now. What are the odds I typed an actual Zoom ID in?”

“Well, you were looking for your brother,” Kurt says. “I imagine it’s similar odds to dialing the wrong phone number.”

The man laughs. “You’re probably right. I’m Blaine by the way.”

“Kurt.”

“Wait, you aren’t…” Blaine trails off and leans closer to the camera like he’s trying to get a better look at Kurt. “You are,” he concludes. “Kurt Hummel?”

“Um yes?” Kurt winces at his voice cracking.

“I saw you twice on Broadway last year. You were outstanding as Christian. Moulin Rouge! is one of my favorite movies so when I heard it was going to Broadway, I knew I had to get tickets. Then, after I saw it the first time I didn’t shut up about how incredible it was so Coop brought me tickets again for my birthday, which ended up being much better seats than I could afford.”

“Oh, well thank you. It’s one of my favorite movies too. That’s why I auditioned in the first place but I was shocked to get the lead. I was told so often that a voice like mine didn’t get the romantic roles of the stage.”

“Are you kidding? They couldn’t have cast a better Christian! I saw you in Peter Pan too. Stunning performance.”

“You saw Peter Pan?” Kurt questions. “I performed that for a charity event at a nursing house like five years ago.”

“At my grandmother’s nursing home to be exact.” Kurt thought Blaine was turning a little red but maybe it was the lighting. “I’ve been following your career ever since. I hope Moulin Rogue! won’t be your last performance. It’d be a waste of talent.”

Kurt smiles. “I appreciate your support. I don’t intend to make it my last but I’m taking a short break from performing to get back into student mode. I’m finishing up my last semester of grad school at NYU.”

“I did my undergrad at NYU. Great professors,” Blaine comments. “I was actually supposed to be making my debut on the stage this summer but alas COVID-19 has shut us down for a bit.”

“Debut in what? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“David Mamet’s American Buffalo.”

“Let me guess, Bobby?”

“Yeah,” Blaine replies grinning.

“I’m sure it’ll be back up and running soon. I assume you still live in the city then?”

“I do. New York’s my real home. I always felt out of place in California. My mom moved us there after her divorce and Cooper got his first gig so we stuck around.”

“Gig? Like a band?” Kurt asks, wondering if Cooper ran in similar circles as his college friend, Elliott.

“No, like acting actually. Sorry, poor word choice on my part. He did credit-score commercials for a while but now he primarily does soap operas.”

“Wait, you mean your brother is Cooper Anderson?”

“Um yeah, he is,” Blaine admits.

“Now, it’s my turn to be embarrassed.” Kurt feels his face warm up. “I might’ve had the jingle to that credit-score commercials as my ringtone back in high school.”

“No, you did not!” Blaine exclaims, laughing a little.

“I’m afraid so,” Kurt tells him. “No offense but Cooper was every young gay teen’s fantasy in Ohio. And by every young gay teen, I mean myself because there was only one gay teen in Lima.”

“Kurt, I promise to never tell Cooper of this because his ego is already too large to handle however I will be holding this secret near and dear to my heart only to remember it fondly when I need a good laugh.”

“Oh hush.” Kurt bats his hand at the camera.

“So, what are you studying at NYU?”

This question led the two down a rabbit hole of their favorite classes and professors. Similar experiences they had during vocal performances and various laughter-inducing stories of their off-campus activities. Kurt’s friends’ weekly karaoke nights, Blaine’s goal to try every coffee shop in Greenwich Village, Kurt’s dream role to play Peter Allen in The Boy From Oz, and Blaine’s secret identity Nightbird, who made yearly appearances in October when Blaine went to sing-a-longs at local children’s hospitals.

“Sam learned the hard way that Gatorade hurts more coming out of your nose than chocolate milk does,” Blaine chuckles.

Kurt is about to jump in with another story but a third box shows up on their screens. It’s Mercedes.

“Kurt, I am so so sorry,” she says. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” Blaine waves. “Mercedes, I presume?”

“That’s me.”

The call goes silent for a moment.

“Mercedes, this is Blaine.” Blaine smiles. “You were apologizing…”

“Right,” she says, ignoring Blaine’s presence for a minute while she explains.

Meanwhile, Kurt is typing a chat to Blaine so Mercedes won’t see it.

Kurt: Lovely chatting with you tonight. I’d love to meet up again sometime.

Blaine: Me too. Text me.

Kurt quickly entered the number into his phone and nodded confirming that he was both listening to Mercedes and was agreeing to text Blaine.

“Apology accepted,” Kurt tells Mercedes once she’s finished.

She grins.

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt. Lovely to meet you both but I think I’ll try and call my brother now as I had originally planned.”

Blaine does a two-handed wave before leaving the meeting.

“You have a lotta explainin’ to do, mister,” Mercedes says. “Who was that cutie?”

Kurt sighs dreamily. “If all goes my way, a potential boyfriend.”

Mercedes claps excitedly and proceeds to pull all the information Kurt’s willing to divulge about Blaine Anderson.

[butsomeofusarelookingatthestars]

Forgotten: Part 1

During one of the BAU’s most difficult cases, Luke meets a dedicated journalist who is committed to fighting for the underdog. Reluctant to trust the authorities at first, she finds a friend in the compassionate FBI agent. But as they draw closer, the challenges only grow with fear, hostility and a relentless unsub whose attention turns to her…

AN/ I actually did it! Here’s Part 1 which hopefully sets the scene. I’m hoping to update this fortnightly on a Sunday evening. Big plans ahead! I hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think x

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, your back aching as you leant back in your chair to survey the empty room. The warm glow of your desk lamp was oddly comforting in the dimly lit office. Darkness pressed up against the windows and you could hear the bustling street outside, cars beeping and late-night revellers bristling with delight as they poured into the local bars. 

A part of you wished you were alongside them. 

Ping!

You glanced at your computer screen, your lips curving into a small smile as you scanned the email that had just come through. Another piece of the puzzle. 

Questioning and investigating had always been interests of yours. Even when you were young, your childhood games had consisted of mystery solving. Every school report had highlighted your natural curiosity and ability to challenge authority...or ‘backtalk’ as the teachers had put it. But journalism hadn’t even crossed your mind until your English teacher had encouraged you to take a work experience placement at a local paper.

You hadn’t looked back since. 

The long hours at university, the endless reports and tiresome essays had all been worth it to achieve your goal of becoming a fully fledged journalist at an independent news association. It wasn’t as glamorous as the movies made out. Most days were spent crammed into tiny offices with colleagues, chasing dead-end leads or struggling to piece together articles in time to make deadlines.

Pressure came with the job, but you had increasingly found yourself addicted to the thrill of uncovering secrets, holding the powerful to account and sharing truth with others. If you could make a difference in your own little corner of the world, you had to do it. 

It gave you a purpose.

“Shouldn’t you be out with your friends?” 

You almost jumped in surprise, too caught up in your emails to notice your boss staring at you in amusement from across the office. He gave you a knowing grin. 

“Another late night Y/N? I admire your determination, but you have to take a time out sometimes.” 

“I’m just finishing up a lead.” You explained, gesturing at your computer. “I’ll be done soon.” 

He flashed you a disbelieving look. He really did know you too well. 

“I promise.” You told him, smiling softly as he nodded in agreement. 

RING

You glanced down at your phone, your heart sinking as you recognised the Caller ID. Apparently your boss sensed your change of mood straight away. 

“I bet I know who that will be.” He said, gazing at you sympathetically. “Make sure you call it a night afterwards. You need some time to yourself sometimes Y/N.”

You nodded in agreement, your fingers already itching to take the call. “Will do.” You gave your boss a small smile as he waved goodbye, flashing once last concerned glance behind his shoulder as he disappeared into the elevator.

You took a deep breath before accepting the call. “Hi Anne, how are you doing?”

The familiar guilt began to build up as you heard her strained voice. It never got easier talking to victim’s families. In fact, with each one it got harder to accept that yet another family was experiencing unimaginable pain. 

“I know. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you.” You spoke softly, pausing for a moment as you heard her begin to cry. “Have you spoken to the support worker I put you in touch with?” 

Luke stifled a yawn, rubbing his eyes furiously in an effort to stay alert. It was late even by his standards, but he desperately wanted to finish writing up his reports for the day. For some reason, despite being a member of the BAU for the past year he still felt the need to impress. 

To go above and beyond had always been part of his job. Besides it was nothing compared to the 75th Ranger Regiment. At least this job didn’t involve warzones. Sometimes he felt himself missing the action of the military, but soon after joining the BAU he had realised how rewarding it was to work closely with his colleagues. 

Hunting down criminals was something that came naturally to him. Protecting others was something he felt like he had to do. 

He let out a sigh as his gaze fell upon his file. The victims’ names appearing to loom out at him. The downside to the job? At times, it did also mean getting too close for comfort with unsubs. Getting inside their heads became increasingly uncomfortable the more he got to know victims and their families.

“I know why I’m here...why are you?”

He jumped at the sound of Emily’s voice, flashing her an amused grin. Trust his Unit Chief to be the only FBI superior complaining about their team working late. 

“I just wanted to finish up before heading home.” He told her, chuckling as she shot him a disbelieving look.

“Well, consider it an order from me to go. Linda Barnes can’t force us all to stay chained to our desks.” She joked, rolling her eyes sarcastically at the mere mention of their troublesome superior. “Besides I’m sure Roxy will be happy to see you!”

Luke let out a bark of laughter. The sound of his mum complaining about him settling down popped into his head. When will you have someone other than Roxy to return home to mi hijo? 

He nodded in agreement. “I’m sure she will.” He replied, holding his hands up in defeat. “Just let me finish this update for one of the families first.” 

Emily’s eyes softened at his words. She gave him an understanding nod. She knew how much it meant. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” 

Luke gave her a small smile of appreciation before he turned his attention back to his work. It was important to him to communicate with families - whether it was an update about court proceedings against unsubs, appeals information or just to check in with them at difficult times. 

It wasn't as if he were addicted to his job. But it could at times be all consuming. After all, it was difficult not to think about the dark nature of the BAU and the suffering of victims. 

Perhaps it had been what had happened to Phil that fuelled his pursuit? He knew what the pain of losing a love one felt like. So, he wanted to do everything in his power to ease the suffering for others.

He understood. It would never be enough.

“I bring spoils of victory!” You sang happily as you entered the newsroom, a box of delicious smelling doughnuts in hand. “I got the best of Maxine’s freshly baked goods.”

Cheers rung out and you laughed softly at the sheer delight on your colleagues faces. It was always appreciated to have a special pick-me-up in the office. The job could feel overwhelming at times and, despite the pressure, you all pulled together and worked closely to help one another.

Showing your affection with sugary goods was always well received. 

“You’re the best Y/N!” Your friend Jennifer exclaimed, grinning widely as she eagerly picked up a doughnut from the box you offered her. “Anything you need help with this week, just give me a shout.”

“Careful, I may take you up on that.” You replied, flashing her a teasing smile. The two of you had always been close friends and, as colleagues, you worked together well. You were there when she needed a push and she was there when things got tough you...which seemed to be happening more recently.  

“Please never move jobs Y/N.” Archie, a fellow journalist who covered local politics, joked as he enthusiastically tucked into his selection. “This office wouldn’t last a minute without you...or the doughnuts.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully before taking a seat at your desk. A contented smile crossed your face as you took in the jubilant atmosphere. It was nice to have days like this.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last. 

Your phone rung out loudly prompting Archie and Jen to flash you nervous glances. But you ignored them, taking a deep breath before answering the call. 

"Y/N Y/L/N speaking...”

“There’s a breaking story.”

It was another early start for the BAU team as they sat around the bullpen. They had all gotten the dreaded message from Emily earlier that they’d received a new case. However, she seemed to have been trapped in meetings with the FBI higher-ups for the past thirty minutes...which meant there was something much bigger at play than a regular case. 

“I’m just saying newbie, if you insist on wearing shirts like that? Expect it to be noted.” 

Luke rolled his eyes holding up his hands in playful surrender. “Ouch! I didn’t realise my fashion taste would be such an offensive to you Garcia.” 

The trendy blonde surveyed him with curiosity, flicking her fluffy pen at his chest teasingly. “You call a grey plaid shirt fashion taste newbie?” 

JJ flashed Luke a sympathetic glance, but still joined in with the rest of the team’s laughter as Luke merely shrugged his shoulders in defeat and chuckled warmly. Even when he was being teased for his lack of interest in clothes, it felt nice to be part of the team. 

Sadly their good news didn’t last as Emily approached them, glancing in concern as her FBI superiors filed out of her office. Linda Barnes flashed them an icy glare before moving towards the exit.

“We have a case. It’s a bad one.”

AN/ There you have it! Spoiler: their paths will cross haha! Sorry for the delay. This was meant to be up on Sunday, but I’m still working full-time so by the time I get to the weekend I’m usually too exhausted to write. Thanks for sticking with me. I know there’s not much going on, but please let me know what you guys think - storyline, characters, length of chapter (I’m agonising over this haha!), whatever you want to share. x

Taglist:

@aimzonicles97​, @reidsstudies​, @exceptionallytiredzombie​, @illegalcerebral, @captaintightpants58​, @abitofeverythinggg​

[gourdgirlmagazine]

Criminal Minds FanFic- The Interview

You step into the elevator and press the button that says 9. You take a step back as the doors start to close and you take a deep breath to prepare yourself for the jolt when the elevator starts to move. The box slowly starts moving to the 9 floor of the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit Headquarters.L, 2, 3 The screen shows as the elevator slowly goes up. Today is the interview you have been waiting for ever since the presentation that was held at your college about the bau. You shift awkwardly and adjust your bag, 5,6,7. Ever since then you wanted to become a profiler and today you are finally gonna get a shot at making you dream come true. Although it's not the exact job you wanted, it's the closest you will get. Deep in thought you are alarmed by the ding of the doors before they slowly open to reveal the BAU floor.

You quickly step out before the doors get called to the next floor. You sigh in awe of the sight of the place that you could possibly work at. As the doors close behind you, you start to walk up to the big glass doors that separate the elevators and hallways from the hussle of the offices and cubicles. You pull open one of the glass doors with the bau logo on it and you are hit with the beautiful sound of work. A printer is printing something in the distance. A phone is ringing. People are typing on their computers. An agent is laughing while talking to another agent. And the strong smell of sweat and coffee. You knew you just had to work here.

You were so immersed by the smell, sounds, and sights that you don't see the guy, whose head is stuck in a book, quickly walking to the doors. And you take a step forward, you clash right into him.

“Er um sorry,” he mumbles.

You didn't pick up what he said out of surprise from the impact “Huh? Oh I'm so sorry. I should have watched where I was going. Are you ok?”

“Yah I'm fine. The projectile of our collison was slow enough that it's isn't possible for either one of us to have any physical harm, just embarrassment.” He says. You make eye contact with him and you glance at his id which says, Ried, Spencer which a picture of him slouched and his hair moved to the side. He looked nothing like his picture. His hair was parted down the middle with volume and he was wearing glasses. No to mention the fact of how innocent he looked in the picture compared to the man who you were standing in front of.

“Wow. Way to throw me under the bus.”

“No No No i didn't mean it like that i'm just saying that i am physically fine and you should be too but bumping into someone leads to embarrassment. I know that I am not embarrassed because this has happened to me many times before but from your body langued, I can tell that you are embarrassed or uncomfortable. Can also tell that you are new here”

“How did you”

As he starts to go he touches your lover back to move around you and whispers in your ear, “i can see it in your eyes” And walks away. You inhale and smell aftershave and something sweet but you can't quite put your finger on what it is. “Oh and by the way newbie, Hochners room is 2011”

In shock by your encounter, you recollect yourself and take a deep breath in and out and walk to the room number that was that the mysterious man said- room 2011. You walk up the stairs while being on high alert to not bump into anyone else. Once you reach the room, the door reads, Aaron Hotchner. You knock three times and wait for the sound of approval. Aaron you thought.

“Come in”. A muffled voice says.

You slowly open the door and walk in, closing the door behind you. “Hi Im y/f/n and i am here for the interview to be your new communications coordinator.”

“Ah yes. Please take a seat. Did you bring your resume?” He asks while he pushes the send button on his computer and turns to face you. He was wearing a blue shirt and a green tie. On the shirt there was one spot that wasnt all the way unwrinkle. No wife you thought if he leaves the house like this. Single. 

“Yes sir, I did.” you fumble through your purse and pull out the file which you slide over to the agent. “I just finished academy training for the FBI and I am a graduate of Yale with a major in cognitive science and phycology and sociology and I minored in forecnics and was at the top of my class.”

He cuts you off “Okok no need to show off. I can tell you are very ambitious and that you are a hard worker. That is something that the BAU wants. Our last coordinator was ambitious just like you. She sadly had to be transferred so our digital analysis has been taking over but i feel as though we need an experienced communications coordinator, but i don't see anything about communications on your resume. Tell me more about that.”

“Well I originally was hoping to be a profiler but there were no spots so when i heard that you needed a communications coordinator for a little. I knew i had to try it out because maybe after you can see my skills, you would make an exception to add me to your team.”

“y/l/n, we are looking for someone with experience in talking to the press and police, not a young just out of the academy woman who is successful in school. No disrespect to your desire but if you don't have the experience for this job then you are wasting my time.”

“Wait, I do have experience, i took classes in public speaking and you know by my quick learning and adaptability, that i will do just fine in this job...”

He cuts you off and says “But fine isn't enough at the BAU. Thank you for your time Ms y/l/n.”

“Can you just try?” you fight back the pilling tears and stand up “You said yourself that you had a digital whatever who has been taking over for her and she is a F*CKING TECH LADY. I feel like I can do a lot better than that. I am experienced in so many other things that it would be a big opportunity to pass up.” then the tears release and you start to cry.

Hotchner is speechless and has no clue what to do now. He awkwardly passes over a box of tissues and clears his throat. You reluctantly grab a tissue and wipe the stream of tears away and grab another one to blow your nose. You take a second to catch your breath before making eye contact with Hotchner as he straightens his tie in discomfort. “Not an emotional one, are you?” you smirkingly say sarcastically.

“Most people say i have an aloof, grim or distant personality.” He says.

“Oh sh*t Im so sorry.”

“Watch your profanity, Ms y/l/n”

“Sorry. Um but anyways, I apologize for crying, I am just a very passionate person who strives to reach their goals and i didnt want this opportunity to pass. I am 100% sure I have ruined it all for yelling at my potential boss and then sobbing. What a great first impression. Way to go y/n”

“Well beside that fact that you were yelling, you did make some valid points. I was being a little bit biased and unfair for letting our digital analysis take the spot for a while and not giving you a chance. I too am very passionate about my dreams and one of my dreams is to have a working team and I too don't want to have my opportunities slip. How about we make a deal because I like your work and your passion. Tomorrow we have a briefing for a new case, you can sit in and watch but try to keep it low-key. After you give me a profile on the unsub and how you will address the press and police on what things to look out for. If all goes well, I would like it if you come along with us. You and our digital analyst will work together to notify the press and police and so on. Does that sound good?” Hotchner says.

“That would be better than anything. Thank you for giving me a second chance and giving me this wonderful opportunity. I promise I won't disappoint you.” you say.

“I hope not. In the meantime i think it would be helpful for you to meet our tech analyst, Penelope Garcia.” Says Hotchner as he stands up from his chair and you follow him out the door of his office.

Thank you so much for reading. You can probably tell that this is my first time but hopefully it wasn't that obvious! I will work on part 2 if you want but this is also the beginning of something new so I think this sort of needs a part 2 and the story is a long way from finished. We haven't even meet our favorite techie, Penelope Garcia! Good Night.

[the-space-above-the-stars]

shut up, this is a library

na jaemin x reader

summary: You work at the school library, which comes with the unfortunate repercussions of having to deal with Na Jaemin, the captain of the soccer team and incredibly gorgeous school flirt who finds fun in teasing you. 

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: none

Genre: fluff

A/N: this is my last one part story coming out because I have a new series starting soon that I’m v excited for!

The SMU library was located just west of the quad, hard to miss. The building had a domed top, complete with a sun-roof, and every inch of the walls were lined with books. Any kid at the campus had been there more than once to cram for a test, or finish an assignment, or in the cases of some people you knew, get some sleep in order to avoid an annoying roommate. 

You were a psychology major, and while that led to a pretty packed schedule, your professor, being absolutely great, never held class on Fridays. So every Friday afternoon, you put on your name tag and went to work at the library, checking out books, helping worried students in a rush to finish a research paper, and finishing up shelving books. 

You pushed the thin metal frame of your glasses higher up your nose as you finished loading the cart with newly returned books that had to be shelved. The librarian was taking a sick leave, leaving you with one other worker who was late again. With a good push, the old cart finally moved, just in time as the bell at the front desk rang. Why they had a bell was a real mystery. “Coming,” you called, wheeling the cart out of the back room. “How can I- oh, it’s you again.” 

There’s another aspect of this job that’s as predictable as the anxiety-riddled kids and your coworker being late, and that was Na Jaemin, who decided to drop in every week, well, to be more exact, every Friday just to talk you up. He flashes you the smile that you’ve basically memorized based on how many times you’ve seen it, his soccer bag thrown over one shoulder as he leans over the desk. “Hey cutie,”  he winks and you have to physically restrain yourself from throttling him. “Come around here often?” His unapologetically loud tone catches the attention of more than a few people, whose eyes are now trained on the school flirt trying to sweet talk the library worker.

“I work here, dumbass, you’ve seen me here for the past 12 weeks.” 

“And I think I speak for both of us when I say it’s been the highlight of our week.” Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head as you walk past him with the cart. “SO I saw you at my game last week. Checking me out on the field?” 

“Don’t over-inflate your ego, balloon boy.” He’s incessant, walking along as you shelve books. “I was there with Mina, she has a crush on Jeno, he likes her too, I’m trying to get them together, keep up. Besides, you’re not much to watch on the field.” 

“I made 6 goals, gorgeous,” he defends, grabbing the book you’re reaching for and sliding it into it’s place. 

“You know, you’d be more help if you actually checked books out. If your cult following saw you at the library, maybe they’d come too. Actually study for once.” 

“Ooh, is this you trying to spend more time with me?” He wiggles his eyebrows and you wack him with a book. 

“What the fuck, no, why would I want to see more of-” you trail off as you stand on your tippy toes to slide an economics book into it’s place, but it’s just out of reach. Jaemin, chuckling, takes it from you and puts it away with ease. “Beanpole,” you grumble. 

“Shortcake.” 

“Isn’t this the part of your visit where I reject you and you assure me you’ll win me over before you leave?” 

“Usually, but I’m shifting things up a bit, routine is boring. Looks like you need some help shelving all these books and from what it looks like, you’re the only person working here. And you’re- somewhat vertically challenged, unlike me.” 

“So what you’re saying,” you sighed, sidestepping him and stepping on your tip toes to slip another book into place. “Is that you serve the same purpose as a step stool?” 

“Ha ha, very funny.” He deadpans, grabbing some books from your cart. “Like you said before, sweetheart, my cult following means more business for the library,” 

“Okay, so how do I know you won’t just flirt with them as I do all the work?” 

“Sugar, you’re the only girl I’m flirting with,” he winks and you roll your eyes, shoving him away. “Come on, I need some sort of reaction from you,” he whines and you clap a hand over his mouth. 

“Shut up, this is a library.” 

“And I’m flirting with you,” 

“Really? I didn’t notice. You’re losing your touch, Na.” But he stays on your heels as you work your way around your library. “Look, you wanna work here? Talk to the librarian when she comes in tomorrow, she goes through potential applicants.” 

“And what if I want a date with you?” 

“Well I can’t make it too easy for you, now can I? Then it’s just boring.” 

“Oh, so you’re admitting you like me?” And suddenly he’s too close, leaning over the other side of the cart with his face centimeters away from yours and the bookshelf pressed against your back. You scoff, looking away as you slip out of the small space. “Deny it all you want, princess, you know you love me.” 

“I’d love to kick you in the-” 

“Jaemin!” Haechan calls him from the entrance of the library, looking very stressed. “Come on, practice is starting soon!” 

“Buzzkill,” Jaemin sighs, but still flashes you the same flirty grin. “You know where to find me, babe.” 

“Great, so will the hit man I send after you.” With a roll of his eyes, another wink and a blown kiss, he mimes putting a phone up to his ear and mouthing “call me” before Haechan drags him out of the library, looking very exasperated. You finally allow your face to flush, leaning your forehead against the cold wood of the bookshelf. Na Jaemin, you’re going to be the death of me. 

***

The next week, you make your way to the library again, being greeted by the librarian before heading to the back room again. “Hana, how much did you- you’re not Hana.” And suddenly it’s like a bad dream come to life because Na Jaemin’s shoveling book’s onto a cart with a smug smirk you’d like to slap off of his face. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You groan, dropping your bag onto a corner and pinching your arm to make sure this is real. 

“Shut up, princess, this is a library,” he mocks, tossing a book at you. “Some girl came in asking for this, she should be still waiting at the desk.” 

Sure enough, there’s a girl waiting for her copy of A Tale of Two Cities outside. She smiles slyly at you, leaning over the table as you scan her student ID. “Does Na Jaemin really work here now?” 

“Yeah but-” 

“Hey babe,” Jaemin pokes his head out. “Give me a hand with these?” The girl’s face drops, automatically pulling an assumption about the two of you as Jaemin grins and your face blushes bright red. You don’t look at her as you hand her the book, whacking Jaemin on the back of the head. “Ow, what did I do?” 

“You idiot, she thinks we’re dating!” 

“What’s so wrong with that?” He smirks, getting a little too close for comfort as he leans forward over the other side of the cart. 

“So many things, just so many things.” 

“Come on, I started working here, I can’t be that bad.” 

“Is that a question or a statement? Don’t you have soccer practice today?” 

“Aww, you pay that much attention to my schedule?” 

“What?!” You shove him and he laughs. “No, stop-” 

“It’s alright, beautiful, I get it. And no, I moved practice to Thursdays.” 

“Just so you could work at the library?” He nods, not giving it much thought. You on the other hand, are starting to turn pink and bury your face into a copy of Milk and Honey as if you’re checking out the bar code. 

*** So Na Jaemin is finally starting to not get on your nerves. He gets in earlier than you, and while his flirting hasn’t completely stopped, he has stopped throwing around pet names and asking you out on dates. He does also get a lot of work done, so he’s nice to have around in that aspect, and- okay, maybe you’re starting to like the guy. 

“Hey gorgeous,”. He stopped throwing the nicknames around, doesn’t mean he’s stopped using them in entirety. It’s well into February and Jaemin walks in late for the first time, pulling a snow-sprinkled beanie off his head and placing a starbucks cup on the desk in front of you. “For you, keeper of books.” 

You roll your eyes, but take a sip. “White chocolate mocha, how’d you-” 

“I have my sources,” he winks and takes a sip of his own coffee, which looks like if someone turned the souls of the innocent into liquid. He doesn’t even flinch as he takes a long gulp, and you’re slightly worried for the man. “SO what are we doing today?” 

“Well no one’s here so there’s nothing really to do but stamp some of these cards.” 

“Some?” He gestures to the large pile of books next to you that still need to be stamped, and you just shrug. “Okay, two people can take this down faster, hand me a book.” 

***

“NO! That did not go in!” Jaemin protested. A few hours later and you both had finished stamping the rest of the books. With nothing left to do, you both had turned to a regular game of table football, but you were on the ground, so was it floor football? Ground football? Your mind was racing, probably because after finishing your own drink, you and Jaemin had shared the rest of his, and all that espresso was really making you both giddy. 

“It so did!” You roll your eyes and pick up the little paper football, ignoring Jaemin’s outcries. “Which means I’m 2 points ahead of you!” 

“Oh yeah, well one last round, winner takes everything,” Jaemin offers, leaning over and daintily plucking the piece of paper from your fingers. 

“What are we betting?” You pout, slumping back to the ground and forming a goal as Jaemin lines the football up. 

“Okay, we each go twice, and the winner decides what the loser has to do.” 

“Fine.” Jaemin positions the football and takes his shot. It clearly passes through your goal, and you wrinkle your nose at him. “Show-off.” 

“Just go for it.” Your first one  flies through Jaemin’s goal easily, and his next one does the same. “It’s all on you, L/N,” he teases, passing the football over to you between his thumb and index finger. 

Oh god, what was he gonna make you do it you lost? You positioned the football, ready to win and make Na Jaemin do whatever you wanted when-

ding, ding, the bell rung just as you pulled your finger back to flick the ball. You flinched and the football passed to the right, missing the goal by a few inches. Jaemin snorted, pumping his fist up in victory. “no, no no no, the bell rang, that doesn’t count” 

“Uh uh, one last round, L/N, we didn’t say any more! I win!” He disappears to answer the bell and you sigh, laying in worry as to what he’s gonna make you do. 

When he comes back, you’re getting up. “Hey, hey, where do you think you’re going, we have a bet to handle.” 

“Ugh, fine, what do I have to do?” You groan. Cheer for him at all his games, set him up with a friend? Cover your shift all by yourself? 

“Go on a date with me.” 

“Wait, what?” He smiles, not a smirk or a grin, just a small smile and bends down to your eye level, repeating the words again.

“Go. on. a. date. with. me. tomorrow.” 

“You want to go out with me?” 

“Thanks for finally noticing,” he laughs. “Come on, I think your opinion of me has raised enough for one date. And if it does bad, I’ll let the whole thing go, forever. I promise.” 

What’s stopping you? It’s just one date, anyway, but what scares you is if it becomes more than just one date. “Okay,” you nod, still in shock. “Tomorrow, 6:00, pick me up from my dorm.” 

Jaemin laughs again and grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you in for a hug. You smile, and then he catches you off guard by kissing your cheek. “Finally, it took me 6 months to get a date with you! Uh, okay, 6:00, I’ll pick you up, dress casual- yeah, okay. Our shift is over, I gotta go!” Scooping up his bag, he waves one last time before disappearing from the back room. 

Still in a haze from everything that just happened, you sink against the wall, smiling as you bury your head in your hands, the small paper football still closed in one. What were you getting yourself into? 

[justauthoring]

No Reason To (31/50)

Prompt: “And I guess… when it comes down to it, I trust you.”

It has come to my attention that by adding links to my posts, it stops that post from being seen in the tags tagged. So, sadly, I will no longer be able to tag previous parts of NRT on new chapters. BUT all part can be found easily on my “No Reason To Series MasterList!”

A/N: Thank you for letting me take last week off. I just needed to have a bit of time to recuperate and find my inspiration for this story. At first, writing this chapter was difficult but then all these ideas just started to hit and i’m literally so excited and pumped for this season. I have a lot planned and am excited to see what you all think!

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Stiles x McCall!Reader

Based off of: Teen Wolf 05x01 and 05x02

With a deep inhale, you push your hands upwards, holding them out before you.

You can’t see a thing before you. Everything is completely pitch black, and in the silence you can hear, or rather feel, your heart pump erratically against your chest. You’re anxious, frightened even, but you bite it back. You need to do this.

In your mind, you envision your target; the book laying on the table adjacent to you. You practically force it into your mind, not allowing yourself to slip from thought of it as you feel the tips of your fingers tingle in response. You can do this, you tell yourself, hoping to convince yourself of that fact. All you need to do is believe in yourself and you’ll be able to do it.

So, you kick your left foot back, body tensing as you continue to envision that damned book. It’s directly in front of you, you’ve practiced this enough times to know by now. And even if it isn’t, you should be able to do it.

With one more deep inhale, a glow surrounds you. The purple hue only manages to light up the surface area around you, letting you see the wooden floors beneath you tinted with purple. You keep your eyes open, refusing to let them fall shut, and push forward with your mind, thinking of your object in hand. Your powers shoot out before you in a surge of light, hitting something and causing a crash.

The moment you let your hands fall, you turn your head over your shoulder, turning the lights on with a flick of your chin, rushing over to the table. Sure enough, you’d hit your target.

“Yes,” you cheer, a bright smile falling on your lips as you practically jump in spot. “That’s what i’m talking about.”

You did it. You’d actually done it. And sure, at this point it’d taken you weeks to actually master it, but you were getting better. If you thought about your target hard enough, you could hit them without seeing them. You didn’t have to actually see them, just know that they were here. That realization causes your entire body to feel light with relief and accomplishment. It feels like months you’ve been working towards this goal and finally, you’ve reached it.

You only wished that--

Your thoughts are interrupted by your phone ringing. It causes you to jump lightly in surprise, tucking your hair behind your ears as you glance around in search of your phone. Finding it, you rush over to it, bending down to pick it and frowning when you see the caller id. Why was Stiles calling? You don’t remember him saying anything about hanging out or meeting up--

Oh, right.

With a frown, you answer the call, placing it against your ear, bracing yourself.

“Where the hell are you!”

Pulling the phone back briefly, you glance at the time, wincing when you realize how late it already is and how late you already were. Placing the phone back against your ear, you bite your bottom lip. “I’m... I lost track of time,” you mumble, moving towards the door. “I’m at Derek’s loft now, i’ll be there--”

“I’m coming to pick you up,” Stiles says without hesitation, “i’ll be there in a few.”

Blinking, your lips part. “Okay,” but by the time you’ve spoken, Stiles has already hung up. You pull your phone away with disbelief, watching as the call ends before shaking your head.

Sure enough, no more than ten or twenty minutes late, Stiles pulls up in front of you. You step out from underneath the cover, ducking your head in response to the rain as you rush around to the passenger side of Stiles’ jeep, pulling open the door and slipping inside moments later. Stiles only greets you with a simple nod as you buckle yourself in, causing you to frown.

When he moves to pull away, your hand falling on his wrist halts him. Stiles turns to you with a frown, one that you mimic. “Stiles,” you call, your voice soft with worry. “What’s the matter?”

“What do you mean?” Stiles shrugs, turning back to the front. “Nothing’s the matter.”

“I might not be able to hear your heart beat, but I can still tell you’re lying Stiles,” you sigh, shaking your head. You let your eyes wander across his facial expression for a moment, having known the boy long enough to tell when he’s anxious and nervous and he’s definitely that right now. “Why is this thing so important to you?”

“It’s not,” Stiles shrugs once more, gently pulling his hand away to clasp the other in his lap. “I mean, I don’t know. Maybe it is.” Biting your lip, you remain silent but the look in your eyes is enough to convince Stiles to continue. “Okay, I asked my dad the other day about his high school friends.” You nod, “guess how many he still talks to? None. None. Not a single one. You know, these were his best friends and he just says he lost touch with them, you know. So, I started thinking about things like I always do.”

Tilting your head, you wince; “obsessively.”

“Yeah,” Stiles huffs, “and i’m thinking, what if... what if Scott’s my best friend now, you know, but he’s not my best friend for life?”

Slumping into your seat, you bite your bottom lip. “That just happens sometimes,” you mumble, unsure of what else to stay. “It’s just life.”

“It’s not just life,” Stiles argues, shaking his head. “It happens only because we let it happen. You know, that’s what I’m saying. How come when we graduate we’re just expected to go our separate ways? If I’ve already found the best people in my life, why aren’t I trying to stay with them, you know?”

“Okay,” you say slowly, “isn’t that the plan though? The dream?”

“The vision,” Stiles corrects, raising a brow your way. “And don’t mock the vision.”

Shaking your head, you lean forward, once again setting your hand over Stiles’ but this time, clasping his tightly. “I like the vision,” you assure, “I... I love the vision. Especially if i’m part of it.”

Stiles’ face eases, and he squeezes your hand in return.

Realization dawns; “that’s why you wanted everyone at the school tonight. Why it was so important.” Stiles frowns, “because you don’t want to lose all your friends after senior year.”

“And I hope they don’t want to lose me either.”

Smiling softly, you lean forward, pressing your lips against Stiles’. He easily returns the kiss, cupping your cheek to pull you closer as you let your eyes fall shut with ease.

However, the kiss is ended short the minute you hear rapid knocking against the door window. You jump at the noise, spinning your head over your shoulder with panic and confusion until your eyes land on Liam. He looks panicked, his knocking still consistent and with a huff and a brief glance Stiles’ way, you open the car door.

“Liam,” Stiles calls, brows furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

Tucking a strand behind your ear, you shake your head. “How’d you even find us?”

“Scent,” Liam shrugs, dismissing it with a shake of his head. “But that’s not important. Scott’s in trouble.”

-

“Scott!”

Your brows furrow at the sight of someone, someone you don’t recognize, next to Kira, one that immediately growls in return to Liam’s threatening one. However, your attention on him doesn’t last long the minute you feel a tightness in your throat and the sight of Scott slowly sinking to his knees, the enemy before him squeezing his throat.

You move to step forward, intent on helping your brother, but you pause when you notice Scott getting back up to his feet and the red glow of his eyes.

It breaks the arm of the creature before him, causing it to bellow out in pain and sink to it’s knees instead. Scott then pulls out the creatures claws out of his chest, easily tossing them to the floor which clatter in response. “I don’t know who you are,” Scott speaks up, shaking his head. “Or what you thought you were going to do, but i’ll give you a choice. You can stay and I’ll break something else, or you can run.”

“I’d run,” Stiles calls when the man turns to look your way.

He listens, pushing himself up to his feet, all while cradling his arm and proceeding to run off without so much as a minute of hesitance. Almost instantly, you rush to Scott’s side, your hand falling on his shoulder. “You’re okay?”

He nods, setting his hand over your own and squeezing, before everyone turns to the odd one out.

The boy looks to be around your age, and something about him seems familiar. But you can’t quite place it.

He smirks when he realizes all eyes are on him, and with a few short steps, he reaches the lot of you. “You don’t remember me, do you?” Your eyes squint, and you try to think back because he’s right, you should recognize him. But you only draw a blank. “I guess I do look a little different since the fourth grade.”

Then, it hits you. Your lips part; “Theo?”

Instantly, a smirk falls on his lips as his eyes slide to your own. “Hey, Y/N.”

Swallowing thickly, you take a step back just as Malia sets her hand on your arm. “You know him?”

“They used to,” Theo answers for you, “trust me, I never thought I’d see you guys again. Couple of months ago, I heard of an Alpha in Beacon Hills. When I found out his name was Scott McCall, I just couldn’t believe it. Not just an Alpha, but a True Alpha.”

Shuffling slightly, Scott nods; “what do you want?”

“I came back to Beacon Hills. Back home with my family. Because I want to be a part of your pack.”

Turning to Stiles, you frown.

-

“We haven’t seen this kid in years. You don’t find that highly suspicious?”

“I’m kind of more concerned about the guy who just tried to kill me.”

Poking your head in between the two, you raise your hand. “I second that.”

Just then, before anyone can reply, Malia’s phone buzzes. Instantly, you turn to her.

Her face brightens and she lowers her phone, a look of relief in her eyes; “i’m in!”

Almost instantly, a smile erupts onto your face. Without hesitation, you step forward, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her close for a celebratory embrace. “I’m so proud.” You say when you pull back, placing your hand over your heart with a dramatic pause.

Laughing lightly, Malia pulls away, smiling at you before turning to Kira; “i’m officially a senior.”

“Thank God.”

Blinking, you turn your head to the right, eyes brightening when they land on Lydia. Moving through the crowd, Lydia shakes her head; “where have you guys been? The whole senior class is here. Are we doing this or not?”

Letting Stiles pull you against him, you step in tow with him.

-

Taking the marker from Stiles’ hand, you smile at him, stepping forward. You let your eyes wander across the signatures for a moment, a fond smile growing on your lips when you notice Derek’s initials. You miss him.

Then, you pull the cap off, writing Y/F/I and Y/L/I above Stiles’. Satisfied, you cap the pen, handing it to Lydia before falling next to Stiles.

And as you watch the rest of your friends do the same, you can’t help but smile. Your final year...

-

You walk up the steps to the school with your head dipped downwards. Lost in your thoughts.

The nightmares have started again. Worst then before. But no matter how hard you tried to understand why they came back or even how, you just couldn’t wrap your brain around them. You used to get them when you were a little kid, about right after your father left. Then, one day, they just stopped. Never came back until, back when Scott had first been bitten, they’d started up again but disappeared when you learned you were a witch.

You’d thought they were related to your powers, but that didn’t really explain why you had them when you were a kid. In truth, you still didn’t know why you’d gotten them but you thought you were done. That you wouldn’t get them anymore. And yet, here they were. You’d been trying to hide the fact from Melissa and Scott, but that proved to be more of a challenge with the latter. And you knew Scott knew, of course he did. With your connection and him being a werewolf, how could he not?

Because you knew sometimes, even from all the way in his room, Scott could hear you wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. Panting, sweaty and crying sometimes. Even if he couldn’t, he would just feel it, just like you feel it when he’s panicked or upset or in danger. He’d never come inside your room though, just simply sit outside your door until you fell back asleep.

At first, you’d been oblivious to it. But one morning you opened your door only to find him fast asleep right outside.

Even if you didn’t speak, even if you couldn’t see him and he never came into your room, his presence was soothing. Enough so that it helped you fall back asleep.

He used to do it when you were kids though too. When your mom moved you to separate rooms, instead of the bunk bed you used to share, Scott would still sleep outside your door, just to make sure you were okay. Even when you didn’t have nightmares and just because. It’d always been like that.

But the nightmares were getting to you, and you found yourself exhausted. All you wanted to know was why.

You refused to tell Stiles, even if he had his suspicions. You didn’t want him worrying when he had enough on his own plate. And you refused to tell your mom either. Because you didn’t want to bother them with your troubles, and you hated it enough that you couldn’t hide it from Scott.

If you could just make them stop, then–

You gasp, feeling your body collide with another. You stumble back in response, nearly tripping over your own feet, but a pair of hands catch your arms. When you raise your head, you meet none other then Theo’s eyes.

Instantly, a smile falls on his face. “Y/N.”

Pulling your arms away from his grasp, you tuck back a strand of your hair, swallowing thickly. “Theo,” you call back in greeting, your voice regrettably shaky. “Sorry. I.. I didn’t mean to bump into you–”

“No worries,” Theo shrugs, waving off your apology. “I could see you had a lot on your mind.”

You chuckle lightly, “just…” You hesitate, biting your lip. “Just a bad night. Anyways, I should really–”

Theo steps into your path when you move to walk away, causing you to take one back in surprise. You blink up at him, lips parting but before you can speak, Theo does; “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, shaking your head. “Of course I am.”

“You just reek of anxiety,” Theo shrugs, his nose scrunching slightly. “Thought i’d make sure.”

“Oh,” you say slowly, licking your lips as your gaze lowers. “Like I said it was a bad night. But… thank you for asking.”

“No problem,” Theo smirks, and you’re not oblivious to the way Theo’s eyes wander across your figure. His stare is intense, almost as if he’s trying to study you and you feel a knot well in the pit of your stomach. “I thought i’d changed a lot since grade four.”

You raise a brow at his comment, raising your eyes to meet his gaze in question. “And that means?”

“Nothing bad,” Theo assures with a laugh, one you lightly mimic. “I only meant, you’re definitely not the pig-tail, braces wearing, shy girl I remember. You’re… different.”

Chuckling softly, you shrug; “like you said, grade four was a long time ago.”

“Fair enough.”

There’s a moment of silence before you speak once again. “Anyways, like I said,” your eyes dart past his shoulder, looking for an excuse. Your shoulders fall with relief when you see it. “There’s Stiles and I promised him we’d walk to class together, so I should probably…”

“Oh, yeah,” Theo nods, stepping out of your way. “Hopefully i’ll see you around?”

You smile softly back in his direction, offering a short nod as an answer before hastily making your way over to Stiles. Stiles had already been looking at you the second he noticed you were talking to Theo and by the expression on his face when you reach him, he seems anything but pleased. Falling to a stop in front of Stiles, you let out a sigh. “Look, I just ran into him, that’s all.”

Stiles blinks down at you; “I just don’t trust the guy.”

You turn back in the direction you came, watching as Theo heads towards the school. You don’t necessarily blame Stiles for being suspicious of the guy, there’s definitely something odd about him. But, at the same time, you don’t think you should just rule out the possibility that he could really mean no harm. I mean, it has been years since any of you saw him last. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t,” you assure Stiles, turning back to face him, “just why?”

Sighing, Stiles’ eyes narrow; “you remember Theo from fourth grade, right?”

Biting your lip, you nod.

“That’s not Theo.”

-

Your head lolls, your eyes grow heavy. You so badly want to sleep.

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

Jumping, you gasp lightly, turning your head only to find Scott stood next to you. He looks worried and you can feel it deep in your own chest as he frowns down at you, biting his lip in worry. You let out a sigh, sighing as you shut your locker. “I’m fine, Scott.”

“I know you’re not,” Scott dismisses, blocking your path as you move to walk past him. Your eyes meet his along the way, shoulders falling as you reluctantly stay rooted in your spot. “Why bother lying?”

You let a hand rub across your face, licking your lips. “Because i’m not lying,” you deny, despite knowing very well that Scott can tell you are and that there’s no convincing him otherwise. You just want to ignore the conversation, because you already feel guilty enough with how much Scott has had to deal with you. But one look into his eyes and you know that, as you assumed, he isn’t buying it and he doesn’t plan to leave you alone until you just open up to him. And for some reason, anger wells within you and before you can stop yourself and think rationally, you blurt out; “i’m fine, okay? Just leave me alone.”

And Scott jerks his head back in surprise, lips parting as a wave of hurt flashes through his eyes. It almost instantly snaps you out of your revere and a frown falls on your lips, guilt flooding you.

“I didn’t mean to--”

“No, no,” you sigh, shaking your head. Frowning, you glance up at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, Scott. You’re right. I didn’t get any sleep last night, or any night before that.” Letting your shoulders slump, you glance down at your feet. “It’s just starting to get to me.”

“It’s fine,” Scott dismisses with ease, smiling reassuringly down at you. 

“But honestly, Scott,” you continue, glancing up to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to always check in on me. It’s no different than before, these nightmares are just fleeting and before you know it, they’ll be gone.” Even though you say the words with hope and confidence, something tells you deep inside your gut that these nightmares aren’t as simple as you’re making them. As simple as they have been.

“What was is that you said?” Scott suddenly questions, pausing in thought, causing your brows to furrow up at him in confusion. “That we’ll always be there for each other?” Your lips part at his words, and Scott smiles faintly, letting his hand fall on your arm before squeezing it gently. “I’m always gonna be here for you. No matter what.”

And with that, your resolve falls. You step towards Scott, faintly smiling. “Thank you.”

“Come on,” Scott suddenly encourages, moving to stand next to you. “Malia and Kira are waiting for us in the library.”

-

You glance up when Stiles sets a piece of paper before you.

“So, you found something?”

“Another signature,” he nods, leaning over you slightly. “This is Theo’s dads signature on a speeding ticket from eight years ago.” Following where he points, you glance at the signature. “And this,” he turns to another paper, “is his dad’s signature on a transfer form to Beacon Hills High School from just a few days ago.”

Pursing her lips, Kira frowns; “how did you get his transfer form?”

“Did you break into the Administration Office?” Scott questions without hesitation.

Gasping, you turn to Stiles with a frown; “Stiles.”

“No, I did not break into the Administration Office,” Stiles sighs, shaking his head. But, upon the looks everyone sends him, he huffs; “okay, I might have broken into the Administration Office. Can we just focus on the signatures, please?” Setting his hands on both pieces of paper, he lines them up next to each other. “They’re different.”

“They’re sort of different,” Malia corrects.

“They’re completely different,” Stiles exclaims, “come on. Look. The garlands don’t even match, the undulations of the sinuous strokes are totally off. And look, look, perfect example of the Criminal Tremor.”

Pausing, your furrow your brows.

“So now, Theo is Theo, but his parents aren’t his parents?” Kira questions.

“Someone’s not someone,” Stiles nods. “And when I figure out who that someone really is, someone’s in big trouble.”

“But no one’s done anything wrong,” Scott reminds.

“Yet. If Theo’s parents are both psychotic killers then obviously, we shouldn’t trust him, right?”

“My parents are Peter and the Desert Wolf,” Malia speaks up, causing you to turn to Stiles in question, who, upon Malia’s words, has froze in disbelief.

“Okay,” he sighs, rubbing his hand down his face in frustration. “It’s fine. You know what? I’ll just figure it out myself,” he huffs, grabbing his papers. “Right? I don’t need you or you or you.” You raise a brow when he turns to you, daring him to speak more. He just sighs, turning.

“I don’t need anyone.”

-

Not that much later, you find Stiles is in his jeep, with Liam.

“I thought you didn’t need anyone.”

Stiles jumps at your sudden voice, turning to look at you with wide eyes. “Y/N.”

You only roll your eyes, shaking your head at him before making your way to Liam’s side of the car. “Out,” you order, nodding your head to the back seat.

“But--”

“Out.”

With a huff and a whine, Liam crawls out of Stiles’ jeep with a pout on his lips, moving to the back. You smile at him sweetly as he does so, crawling into the passengers seat yourself, ignoring Stiles’ stare as you buckle yourself in. Then, when you’re situated, you turn expectantly to Stiles who continues to stare at you in surprise.

“Let’s go,” you speak, shaking your head.

“You don’t even know where we’re going,” Liam speaks up, poking his head in between you and Stiles.

“You’re going to spy on Theo,” you say matter-of-factly, smirking at Liam before meeting Stiles’ gaze. “So, let’s go.”

Stiles’ eyes widen at your words and they flood with hope. “You believe me?”

“Of course I believe you.”

-

“I told you he was up to something.”

“We just spent three hours watching this dude play video games in his bedroom. He better be out here to cover up a mass murder.”

You smile at Liam’s words, shaking your head at him softly as you keep your gaze on Theo. But, you can’t help but briefly glance Stiles’ way, silently noticing the intensity of his stare and how tense his shoulders are. You frown softly. This was really bothering him.

“Let’s find out,” Stiles calls out, stepping around the bush. You and Liam are quick to follow him, letting Liam lead with his nose.

“Still got his scent?” You ask after a few minutes, coming up beside Liam.

“Don’t need it,” he shrugs, gesturing down to the footprints in the mud. As you continue to walk forward, you notice out of the corner of your eye Liam slow down, causing you to frown in response.

“What?” Stiles questions, turning back to him, “what’s wrong?”

Frowning, Liam glances behind himself. “I forgot, I was supposed to meet Mason at the school gym.”

“Okay,” you say softly, not oblivious to the distress in his tone. “Why didn’t you just tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

Turning to Stiles, you shrug; “anything.”

Shaking his head, Liam scoffs; “I can’t just tell him anything.”

“Why not?”

“Because I haven’t,” throwing his hands in the air in distress, Liam sighs. “I haven’t told him everything.”

“Still?” Stiles’s brow twitch in confusion, “we said it was okay.”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s not that easy.” Pausing, Liam stumbles over his words. “It’s a lot to accept.”

“He watched my dad blow up a Berserker with a land mine,” Stiles reminds, “I think the groundwork’s been pretty thoroughly laid for acceptance. Scott, Y/N,” Stiles tilts his head to you, causing Liam to turn to you as you smile encouragingly his way, “and I have been through this. Okay? More than once. It’s always better when they know.”

“Besides,” you speak up, “Mason’s your best friend, right?” Liam nods, “then he’ll understand. It’ll be okay.” With one last reassuring nod Liam’s way, you turn with Stiles, following slightly behind him. 

“But,” Liam suddenly calls, voice pitching. “What if he freaks out? What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? What if he tries to stab me with something silver? Or what if...” Liam’s words suddenly halt and there’s a loud thud that instantly causes you to pause in your step.

Your brows furrow in question, turning to Stiles briefly who meets your eyes before turning around. At first, the two of you are confused at the lack of Liam, but then you notice the hole in the ground and instantly you’re running forward. Your eyes widen in concern when you find Liam at the bottom of said hole.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Lips parting, you turn to Stiles with a glare, slapping him. “It’s not his fault, Stiles.”

“It’s just--” Stiles suddenly stops, looking past your shoulder which causes you to raise a brow. Before you can ask what’s going on, he grabs a hold of your wrist. “There he is,” Stiles whispers, turning back to Liam quickly. “Hurry up and stop screwing around.”

You move to hit your boyfriend again, but Stiles is already tugging you along to where he spotted Theo. You lean against the tree just as Stiles’ does, easily catching sight of Theo.

A minute later, Liam falls in the spot next to you.

“Try and get his scent,” Stiles orders with a whisper. “Get anything?”

As you turn to watch Theo, trying to figure out what he’s doing, you hear Liam whisper in response to Stiles’ question; “soap.” You blink, what? “It’s nice. It smells good.”

“Not his scent,” Stiles huffs, “his emotional state. Chemosignals, remember?”

“Oh,” Liam nods, “yeah. Okay.” Pausing a moment, you wait for Liam to answer. “I... He’s sad.”

Blinking, you turn to the younger boy. “He’s sad?”

“Well, not just sad...” Liam begins, “it’s more like grief.”

“Grief?”

Your eyes widen, realization flooding you when you see Theo slowly pick up out a flow from the bouquet in his hands, dropping it into the water below the bridge. 

“Oh my God,” Stiles suddenly squeaks, hastily turning and you’re quick to follow his lead, grabbing Liam by the shoulders and pulling him away. “We have to go. Come on.”

“What?” Liam exclaims, “why?”

“That’s the bridge where they found his sister,” you explain with a whisper, shaking your head.

“What sister?”

“The one that got lost and died from exposure,” Stiles answers for you, his voice considerably more panicked and pitched then your own. “He’s leaving a flower for her.”

“That doesn’t sound evil,” Liam concludes.

You shake your head as Stiles inhales sharply, “I know.”

“Um,” you suddenly mumble, having caught sight of something, or rather someone, above all three of you. “Guys.” Stiles and Liam look in the direction you point to, halting to a stop when they see Theo just like you have, watching as he jumps off the branch, landing on his feet before you.

Slowly, he rises, a smirk on his lips; “what are you guys doing?”

As soon as Theo takes a step forward, Liam steps in front of you protectively, growling. Instantly, you grab him by the shoulders, silently telling him to back down.

“Woah,” Theo chuckles, raising his hands in surrender. “Why do I get the feeling this kid’s tougher than he looks?”

“Only when we let him off his leash,” Stiles subtly threatens.

“Stiles,” Theo calls, lowering his hands. “We were in Little League together. Why are you so suspicious of me?”

You raise your head to glance up at Stiles, watching as he pauses a moment before reaching into his pocket, pulling out the sheets of paper he’d shown you, Scott, Malia and Kira earlier. “Because of these,” he explains, handing them over to Theo who accepts them with a slight twitch of his brows.

As Theo unfolds the paper, Stiles continues; “one’s a speeding ticket signed by your dad eight years ago. The other’s one’s a signature on a transfer form to Beacon High. They’re different.”

“Huh,” Theo laughs lightly, “yeah, they do look a little different.”

“No, they’re totally different,” Stiles corrects, “signed by two different people.”

“So, my dad’s not my dad?” Theo questions, raising a brow. You frown at his response, suddenly weary of where this was all going. “Like he’s an impostor?”

“Yeah,” Liam nods instantly, once again taking a step forward and in front of you, squaring his shoulders. “Something like that.”

With a sigh, Theo folds the papers back up again; “who do you think I am?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Want me to give you a DNA sample or something?”

“No,” Stiles sighs, “I don’t have anything from the fourth grad to match it to.”

“Come on,” Theo laughs, trying to lighten the mood. You freeze when he turns to you, “Y/N, this is crazy. You have to know that.” As if on queue, Liam shuffles on his spot in front of you and Stiles shakes his head at Theo.

“She doesn’t have to know anything,” Stiles dismisses, narrowing his eyes at Theo.

Shoulders falling, the smile falls from Theo’s lips. “You know, Stiles, I came back here for Scott... but I also came back for you.” Your frown deepens at his words, eyes narrowing, similar to Stiles. “Someone like you. Someone who’s willing to walk into the woods in the middle of the night to protect his friends. I don’t have anyone like that, but Scott does.” Turning to Liam, Theo shrugs; “you all do. I know i’m in the right place. I’m meant to be here. I’m meant to be a part of this pack.”

-

“Find anything?”

You blink at the sound of Scott’s voice, finally raising your head as you glance up at your brother. He’s leaning against his bike which is parked next to Stiles’ jeep. 

At his question, Stiles inhales deeply, shaking his head, “nope.” He says simply before walking forward, opening up the door to his car and slipping inside. With a simple sigh yourself, you briefly nod Scott’s way as he makes his way to Stiles’ window, slipping into the passenger side yourself just as Liam calls out;

“I fell in a hole.”

His attempt at lightening the mood fails, and Scott only turns to Stiles; “it was the bridge where his sister died, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was,” Stiles sighs, “very embarrassing. So we are gonna leave now.” As he turns the keys to turn on the engine, it only sputters. Stiles’ face falls and he sighs, stopping. “Son of a... Liam,” he calls, moving to step out of the car. “Get in the car and turn the ignition when I say.”

As Scott and Stiles make their way to the front of Stiles’ jeep, pulling open the hood, Liam listens to Stiles’ instructions without fault, slipping into the car beside you.

A moment later, Stiles calls; “try it.” The engine only sputters in response.

Then, suddenly, without warning, a sharp pain radiates in your head. It causes you to gasp slightly in pain, not loud enough for Liam to really pay mind and as a conversation between Stiles and Scott progressively grows more tense, it seems to fade to the back of your mind as the pain becomes increasingly more and more unbearable.

You’re lost in your own head for the next few minutes, a tingling, unexplainable feeling washing over your entire body. It’s like this pounding in your head, one that repeats over and over again and it hurts so much your eyes clench shut tightly. Your hands reach for your head, practically digging your nails into your scalp, causing you to cry out in pain.

It’s then that Liam notices there’s something wrong, having been distracted by Scott’s and Stiles’ conversation before. His brows furrow at the sight of you curled into yourself, seething in agony. Not to mention, there’s a purple hue that surrounds you, almost as if some sort of protective barrier. He reaches out to touch you, though hesitant, his lips parting to call out for your name. You either don’t hear him or don’t respond and just as the tips of Liam’s hand reaches you, the loud bang from Stiles slamming his hand against his car causes him to pull back.

He pauses a moment, turning to the front in confusion and uncertainty, but he hears Scott ask Stiles if he’s okay and then offer to take his pain away, so Liam let’s his focus fall back on you.

“Y/N,” he calls once more, his voice soft and unsure but flooded with concern. “Are you--”

You suddenly turn, opening up the door to Stiles’ jeep and practically sprinting out. Liam’s lips part in response, watching as you sink to the ground, falling to your knees. Despite having already caught their attention, Liam calls out for Stiles and Scott, running out of the car himself and around, only to pause by you.

You don’t notice Liam, Stiles and Scott circled around you. A pit of heat starts to grow within you and you feel yourself shake, it slowly becoming increasingly worse and worse. You don’t hear them call out for you in worry, nor do you notice Stiles cry out in pain as he reaches out for you and the touch of you causes him to fly back, landing on the ground with a thud.

You’re unaware of all that surrounds you as the pit of heat grows hotter and hotter. You don’t notice the slight affect it has on Scott. You don’t understand what’s happening and it almost feels like your head becomes a jumbled mess as you begin to lose control of yourself.

What’s happening to me?

Then, suddenly and without warning, it feels like something clicks. Your lips part and a heart-wrenching scream tears through your lips. Your head tips back as you scream, your body tensing completely, every muscle becoming frozen in place.

When it finally stops, you slump forward, out of breath. Your surroundings slowly fade back in and as your eyes water, curling into yourself, it’s a moment later that Stiles, Scott and Liam feel it’s safe enough to step towards you. You don’t notice it until a hand falls on your back, causing you to flinch violently in response. You move to pull away from the touch, but pause when your eyes meet Stiles’.

“Hey, hey, Y/N... It’s okay. It’s just me.”

You fall back on your butt, glancing up at Stiles and then past him towards your brother and Liam. They stare down at your in concern and worry, and also confusion. But it’s the slight fear in their eyes that crushes you. The absolute uncertainty of what’s just happened. It breaks your heart.

A sob leaves your lips and you fall against Stiles without warning. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, pulling you close as you bury your head into the crook of his neck. And as you do so, Stiles glances back at Liam and Scott, silently asking the same question that was on all of their minds.

What was that?

But you already knew. Derek had warned you about it before he left.

You were losing control of your powers.

-

“Is she okay?”

Slowly, your eyes blink open at the sound of Noah’s voice. 

There’s a pause and you can feel both Stiles’ and Noah’s eyes on you as Stiles sighs. “I think so,” Stiles whispers, his voice unsure. “I mean, I hope so. I’ve... I don’t even know what happened.”

“Well, just let her sleep, Stiles. She seemed pretty upset when you brought her in.”

“I’m just worried about her.”

Once again, you let your eyes fall shut in shame.

“I know, son,” Noah whispers, and subtly, your grip tightened on Stiles’ pillow, your eyes watering. “Just don’t leave her side. She’s gonna need you when she wakes up.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

-

Part 32?

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[treasure-my-aurora]

One More Night. Pt 1

A/n:  Ladies, Gentlemen and everyone in between, teens and adults who came for the music and stayed for Kim Hongjoong (and the music too, obviously) This right here is the fanfic you haven't been waiting for! The one that no one asked for! and no one wanted to read!  I will once again, as I usually do, remind you that this is not a y/n fic simply because it's just not my style. I need a personality to base off my writing off. The person in this one is nameless, a female in her mid 20s, korean, sort of an introvert and somewhere underneath the "Demisexual" gray-A umbrella.

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong / fem!Reader

Chapter: 1/14

Genre: Mutual pining, canon compliant, fluffy af, angsty af, suggestive, teasing and filled with that good shit that everyone loves 

Words in this chapter: 5247

I stared at the diploma in my hands, it was the first paper of many, and my hands shook slightly in the chilly late summer weather outside. I was fresh out of school, graduated just that spring and now, with all my papers in order, I was ready to begin walking down the path of what had been my goal for years. I’d been studying abroad in the US, putting endless hours and more drops of blood, sweat and tears on the concrete floor of the 'Fashion Institute of Technology' than I could count. I nervously chewed on my lip, took a deep breath and entered through the front door. A big lobby opened up before me and a receptionist gave me a big smile. I smiled back and focused on keeping the ice in my stomach. I couldn’t lose my head now.

“I’m here for an interview”

I started and the receptionist nodded, her black hair framed her face and I swallowed my anxiousness as she asked me about my name and the email, I’d gotten a few days after applying, confirming that I had all the qualities that the company searched for. She asked me for my ID-card and my papers that involved a criminal record check, and that I was legal Korean citizen (the other option being that I had a work visa) before she gave me a shiny visitors card that would allow me to go upstairs to the waiting room. I thanked her and followed the signs up a flight of stairs and then took the elevator to the second floor. My heart pounded when I reached the waiting room. It was lit up with natural light from big panorama windows on my right and I gulped while looking over at a large analogue clock on the wall in front of me, my stomach bubbling from so much excitement that it almost felt as if I was going to be sick. Minutes passed and finally a woman in her early thirties approached me, her hand extended as she asked me my name, as you do to make sure that you said hello to the right person. I took her hand and she introduced herself as Chung Eunji and gave me a brilliant smile.

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry” She reassured me and I nodded, grateful for her calm presence as we entered a room with three others, one woman and two men, all of them perfectly dressed and groomed, authority radiated from all three and I swallowed hard before taking a deep breath as I sat down in front of them.

I introduced myself, presented them with my diploma, my photo catalogue and they asked a few questions in return. Things about my private life, why I wanted to work with them specifically and I tried to answer as truthfully as I could, knowing exactly why they brought forward every aspect of my life.

Forty minutes of endless questions passed, and I wet my throat with the water that had been placed in front of me as the four of them paused. They looked at each other and the woman, Eunji nodded, a satisfied smile on her lips. One of the men cleared his throat and drilled his eyes into me and I swallowed as my mouth immediately went dry again.

“I will tell you now so that there won’t be any misconceptions in the future. You will work with a passion pay the first three years; do you understand?” I nodded, knowing fully well what I’d gotten myself into. The salary would be lower than average, and the days would be long, but this is what I dreamed of, “You will work under a head stylist, doing what they say, when they say with no discussions?” I nodded again, rather thankful that someone would guide me through this whole new world, “You will not speak with anyone outside about what is going on within the company, respect your management and the idols working here because your future in the industry depends on the quality of your character and your clients satisfaction?” I nodded again and the man sighed almost tiredly as if he was used to give this lecture at every interview, “Most importantly. As you are hopefully informed of, any sort of involvement, be it romantically or sexually with your designated clients will lead to your immediate termination and your possibilities of growing within the company or any other company will disappear”

I nodded again, determined to not let a boy group put a foot into my career.

…….

I started the very next day and quicker than I realized a week passed, filled with meetings and a tight schedule. I’d been designated a group of eight young men, standing on the tipping point of debuting and every day was filled with wardrobe planning, clothes checking and jewellery making. I worked under the woman who first introduced herself to me, Eunji and I couldn’t be happier. Even amongst the ten to fifteen-hour shifts, catching sleep when I could, be it in a sofa next to my colleagues or in my car because driving home and messing up my apartment was too much of a hassle. Buying food from a local truck instead of making my own and always making sure that I had a bag of clothes and hygiene articles with me every time I left my apartment. It was tough but I loved every minute of it, the busy days and nights and working with a strong team that collectively worked under the same goal; pushing our clients towards the debut.

It was October, just a few days before D-day and I was sewing at my desk. There had been a wardrobe malfunction earlier in the day and my sewing machine had broken down yesterday, which forced me to work the old way. The jacket was a beautiful blood red and I bit my lip with concentration as I sewed hard, making sure that the thread wouldn't unwrap. I was so deep into my own world that I jumped when Eunji peeked her head into my office.

“What are you doing here? Did you forget about the meeting?”

I looked up in horror from what I was doing, glanced over at the clock on my sewing desk and nearly stabbed myself with the needle.

“Let’s go” she said with a scolding voice and I hung my head as I rushed over at her, needle and jacket still in my hands.

It had to be finished and be back on the hanger with the rest of the outfit within the hour and I didn’t have time to stop. I could see a smile tugging or her lips when she noticed that I didn’t abandoned my project and placed a strong hand on my shoulder, so I didn’t walk into things or people while I worked. She took me down a corridor, did a sharp turn, lead me down a flight of stairs and soon we joined up with five of my fellow stylist noonas, all with excited smiles on their faces. The door opened to show a simple meeting room and I looked up surprised when the scraping sound of chairs against the floor echoed among us. An explosive introduction made me take a step back in surprise and my colleague, who’s foot I just stepped on, gave me a sour look. I mouthed an apology before looking straight forward again.

Eight men stood in a half circle around the table and I quickly realized that they were the ones that I’d been working for. My clients who seemed to love breaking everything from simple shirts to unique masterpieces, jewellery that I’d spent hours on, and I had to admit, up to this point, even though I loved my job, the endless cycle of stitching their clothes back together was tiresome. But they had all just been names on a paper up to this point and now somehow, they all became real, with each introduction and me noticing something unique on each of them, like a necklace I’d fixed or a button that I was sure I'd sewed on their clothes. The conversation was rolling as the members and my colleagues talked amongst each other and the buzzing of voices made me zone out as I worked.

“Hey” A sharp voice broke through the laughter that erupted when one of the members, told a joke to my colleagues.

They all froze around me, but I didn't notice, too busy with my needlework until Eunji gave me a sharp shove. I looked up, confused to see them all staring at me until I noticed that the sharp ‘hey’ had come from the CEO. I swallowed and immediately bowed, scared for my life that I’d lose my job.

“What are you doing back there?” He asked and I gulped, not even noticing that I was standing at the back of my group.

My colleagues moved to the side and I held up the red jacket, before bowing again.

“I’m just sewing, Sir. I- I’m sorr-”

“You’re sewing…” The CEO spat out the words with disgust and I gulped, feeling like I had to puke with distress, “On the first official meeting with you clients. You're supposed to get to know each other and there you stand, completely uninterested. How unprofessional, how can you ever imagine that you’ll have a successful career if you can’t even hold a conversation without a needle in your hand, huh?” My body froze and my eyes teared up, but I was so much in shock that I couldn’t even raise my hand up to wipe them off, “Who’s jacket is it? One of your colleagues? Your own?” He stood up, and I opened my mouth but didn’t have the voice to answer. He gave me a few seconds to explain myself, but I couldn’t, and the loud noise when the CEO hand hit the table and him shouting, “Tell me!” that followed didn’t even make me flinch, too paralysed with numbing fear that I just stood there.

“Actually… It’s mine” the man who’d introduced himself as Hongjoong stepped forward and all eyes turned to him.

He gave me an apologetic smile, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “I ripped the fabric earlier on the dance practice, it needed to be stitched back together as soon as we’re done here. I’m sorry that it caused an inconvenience, but it’s part of the wardrobe for Pirate King…” He trailed off and I could see how the red colour that’d flushed the CEO’s face disappeared, his outraged facial expression fell, and he turned pale of realisation. He looked over at me, mouth open, probably to give me an apology but I only saw him in my peripheral, not able to meet his eyes, tears streaming down my cheeks now and I could feel how my lips pulled up in a smile, more so because it was an imprinted reaction to show off that I was ok, but it didn’t reach my eyes and I backed up behind my colleagues again. Needle still in a death grip in my hand as I started to sew again.

-

Another week passed, the group I was working with had their debut stage and I cheered with them afterward. Happy about the number in the audience, that our hard work paid off. The rest of our evening was free, just to celebrate the success. A rarity that I treasured. Not because I had time to do what I wanted; God knows what I was going to do with that time, but because I was one of those people who needed some time alone to recharge my batteries, so to speak. I wasn’t very outgoing, and with far less hobbies than what might be considered normal. My work was my passion, my drive and I lived to create, to mould and see the appreciation and fascination in people’s eyes when I presented my work. I could care less about what was popular, be it music, books, series and movies. My group of friends was tight but few, most of them older and living in the outskirts of the city, working in offices with families of their own. People that I’d known basically my whole life.

I sighed, as soon as Eunji had peeked her head into my office and told me that I had the rest of my evening off, still deep into a project and had no thought about stopping, planning the wardrobe for the following week. It was more of a mind map, filled with trails of promotion interviews, showcases, stages and everyday looks for the members. It was something that Eunji herself was responsible for, but I guessed that she wouldn’t exactly scold me if I helped her, just a little. My room was dim, and I hummed softly along with the music streaming from my computer, the mind map covering my entire desk when a knock on my door made me flinch from surprise. My brows furrowed, who’d be at the company in this hour? It was after 22:30 and everyone was too busy enjoying their free time, treating themselves for a nice dinner for once or going out to get a drink with friends they haven’t seen in weeks.

“It’s unlocked” I said while turning down the music and my eyebrows rose in surprise when a familiar face peeked out behind the door.

“Hi noona, are you… busy?” Hongjoongs dark eyes twinkled in the soft hue of my desk lamp, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked out over the sheets of papers, covered with pieces of fabrics, photos of the latest runway fashion and pictures of himself and his members and I paused, biting my lower lip. I know how insane I must look, doing work that I didn’t even have to do late at night on the first free hours I’d had since I started. I shook my head,

“No… come in… or stay where you are… whatever you want to do” My heart jumped and I cursed my nervous personality, never being able to form concrete sentences in front of people I didn’t know so well when I was caught off guard.

But Hongjoong didn’t seem bothered as he came in and closed the door. The soft click as it fell in place made me swallow hard and my confused heart thumped in my chest as he sat down in a chair in front of me. He looked so different than how I was used to seeing him. I was often one of the last ones he saw before going on stage, my main work involved a touch up and made sure that the clothes and overall look was perfect. Now, with the oversized clothes, a beanie on the top of his head and a facemask resting over his chin, a can of soda in one hand and a bag of chips in the other, like he decided to drop by just before going back to the dorm, made him seem like a different person and I placed my arms around me, almost like a self-hug, to protect myself from this sudden contrast.

“I… uh…” He placed his snacks on the table, took off the beanie, the dirty blonde hair spilling out and he dragged his fingers through it. It was already raked back as if he’d already done the same motion continuously since they left a few hours ago, “Came to say hi and make sure that you wouldn’t still be here” My brows furrowed and I wondered if I should be offended but he raised his hand and waved it quickly, “No, I mean. I recognize a workaholic when I see one. I just hoped that you’d be out with some nice company. Friends or… a boyfriend or-”

“I don’t have a boyfriend” I interrupted, awkwardly fast and Hongjoong smiled, slightly amused by my determined answer,

“Well, someone to brighten up your evening then”

My head cocked to the side as I looked away and opened my mouth, not sure what to answer besides the obvious fact that the only thing that brighten my evenings right now was his and his members faces just before they were going up on stage. When the fans screamed their names throughout the whole performance and then the feeling I got in my heart when I met their adrenaline pumped eyes afterwards while I dried sweat from their foreheads and fixed their clothes. Hongjoong cleared his throat,

“I also came to tell you that they, the management or whoever makes these kinds of decisions, want you to have a main focus”

I gave him a surprised look and felt how my face flushed red. It was rare that someone as new as me was given the opportunity to concentrate on one member. My heart swelled with pride, usually it was only styling noonas that had been working for at least a year or two that was given this sort of opportunity but I guessed that the situation was different since they were still a fresh group and needed someone who was going to get to know the specific member. Someone who could speak on their behalf when it came to styling, whether it be hair, make-up or clothes. Someone who knew them from inside and out, their preferences and what they’d absolutely refuse to do. Hongjoong scratched his neck awkwardly and he looked down at the table, his leg bounced restlessly, “Well… it’s me. They wanted you to have me. Something about your passion and... I don’t know, they will send you a letter to confirm. I just wanted to… tell you in person I guess” I nodded slowly, still in happy disbelief and Hongjoong nodded back, paused as if he wanted to add something more but instead stood up again, put on the beanie and pulled the face mask over his face, “Have a good night noona”

I replied with something similar but incoherent, the door shut in front of me and I flinched when I realised that he’d left, already missing his company.

…….

November came and the very first day was insane. I ran back and forth, checked with my colleagues to make sure that we had the schedule under control, getting a wardrobe malfunction when I couldn’t find the piece of accessory, a harness, that I desperately needed and broke down crying while I rushed down the corridors because the stage they were going to perform at was MNET and I refused to accept anything but success. After many phone calls and much more searching, I finally found it and returned to the waiting room where the group was designated to hang out until it was their time to perform. I basically stumbled through the door, the harness in my shaking hand and Hongjoong rose up from his half sitting position on the couch, careful not to wake Mingi who was snoozing next to him.

“Hey, are you ok?” He squeezed my shoulder and I nodded quickly and swallowed. I refused to feel sorry for myself when I rubbed the tears from my eyes so I could see properly as I guided his arm between the connected parts and then secured it over his chest, finally taking a deep breath for the first time in minutes when his outfit was assembled. Feeling his heart beat fast under my distracted hand and I realized I kept it there just a little too long. I looked up, his soft brown eyes met mine and I swallowed and removed my hand from his body as if I’d burned myself.

“I’ll see you in thirty minutes, I need to…uh… clean-up”

I clenched my jaw, an apologising smile on my lips as I closed my eyes and left without looking back, rushed into the nearest bathroom and my breath shook as I splashed my face with cold water.

-

The rest of November was filled with fan signings, meetings and promotional stages and we travelled from town to town almost in a hurry, only pausing to properly rest the last night in Busan.

The day had been busy, filled with coordinated steps to make everything, from their arrival- to the check in at the hotel, run as smoothly as it could. It was dark now and we’d all, the whole team, just finished our dinner. The distinguishable smell of salt water, raw fish, seaweed and sand burned in our nostrils and I leaned back against a street sign with my belly full with food, standing on the other side of a stone wall that separated the sidewalk and the beach, my eyes towards the star splattered sky as I took deep breaths, filled my lungs completely with chilly winter air before I exhaled again. A scream interrupted my calm state and I opened my eyes again to see the group I’d come to love, run around like children across the wet sand. I wanted to say something, stop them from getting the sand on their clothes and into their shoes but Eunji placed her hand on my arm as if she was thinking just what I was thinking.

“They deserve it, just let them be boys for a couple of minutes”

-

The thirtieth of November marked the finish line for everything we’d worked for the last 6 weeks and I sighed in the backseat when Hongjoong filmed the road ahead, talked to Atiny through a video camera about the end of their first era. He’d let his hair grow, proudly pronounced that he wanted a mullet the other day and I'd only nodded, because why not. He looked good in it and more importantly, he felt good in it, proudly tugging on the strands of hair while I watched him from behind. His other hand stifling a yawn.

The cold morning turned into a cold day and I shuddered slightly where I stood next to the camera man that recorded their log. Ready to jump in if they needed me. They had heat packs to warm their hands and I thanked Eunji when she handled me one as well, a smile on her face and I returned it, happy to work under someone so considerate.

They played a game and as soon as I saw the word the other members had picked for Hongjoong to not be able to use; I knew he’d lose. They spoke, thanked Atiny and my prediction was right. The surprise on his face was hilarious and I had to bite on my lip to prevent myself from laughing.

“Noona” He complained later when we were back at the company, “Can you help me please?” I gave him a puzzled look and he grabbed an eyeliner from the make-up table nearby, “I lost earlier, remember?

“Ah” the challenge from the fan meeting popped up in my head and I gulped as he stepped into my intimate zone, basically flushing his body against mine before handling me the pen.

“Make me pretty?” He said and fluttered his eyelashes and I couldn’t help it when a small chuckle escaped my lips from his antics.

“I love hearing you laugh” He whispered, eyes meeting mine behind heavy lashes and I inhaled sharply, hoping that he wouldn’t notice that my heart picked up in speed.

…….

December was quiet. It felt like I could breathe again with a schedule that wasn’t as full. Most of it just preparations for their comeback in the middle of January. They had a photoshoot and there was a small interview where the main question was what they wanted and hoped to do in 2019. But other than that, silence. I’d been working non-stop like I usually did though, but at a much slower pace, enjoying the time I could put on my projects, instead of just stressing out a product. I had taken baby steps with my new role as a personal stylist so far. Simply just designing the clothes or putting together outfits, some perfectly fine as they were and some, I had to do alterations on. I was thankful, it was scary sometimes, because people depended so much on me to take care of Hongjoong’s entire wardrobe and I’d never done anything similar before. I was a designer, I knew fabrics, colours, what was it in the fashion industry and Hongjoong’s style was unique, different than what I usually worked with. But he helped me a lot. Spending time with me in his studio and teaching me what he liked and what he absolutely refused, gave me inspiration to create new items, new accessory and I enjoyed simply spending time with him, eating take-out together and dreaming about the future. Listening to him talk about his passions, the music he created, the lyrics he wrote. His eyes bright and laugh even brighter, a cute flush on the tips of his ears as he spoke, dressed in clothes two sizes too big, and with that dark blonde hair, that I more and more often came to wonder the softness of, in a mess, often covered by a beanie or a cap. Soft pink lips tugged up into a smile whenever I spoke, a gentle look on his face, and I felt special, like he actually listened and didn’t just hear what I said, like I was the only one who mattered whenever we spoke.

..

I enjoyed the first days, took the proper time to revel in my free time in my apartment but soon enough I missed the days when I didn’t have to think about what I should do next, the days that passed in a blink of an eye and I almost hated to admit that I missed it. My friends told me that I should just enjoy it while it lasts. To load my batteries for the next comeback so to speak. But I was restless, went back to my office more often at the end of the first week, bored out of my mind as the days passed in a haze, both checked and double checked with Eunji if there was anything else I could do but she just repeated what my friends said.

“You will regret complaining in three weeks when you’ve been working on your feet for fourteen hours straight without a proper meal in your stomach”

I sighed and my fingers itched for something to do. I started another project, just after I finished another, pulled ideas from the fashion I saw around me and implementing whatever Hongjoong had told me. Creating new jewellery and mended clothes to make sure that nothing threatened to break.

I guess I knew but didn’t want to admit that I was lonely. I had daily contact with my mom and siblings back home, but I missed seeing more people I recognized, coming from a small town to living in a big city. I saw my friends every other week or so and even though I appreciated it, they were busy with their own lives, and usually the time we spent together ended up just being one or two hours, hasty trying to catch up over brunch or coffee and I dreaded to go home to my empty apartment. My bed was cold to sleep in, my fridge almost always empty and the walls closed in on me every time I locked the front door behind me.

..

I sighed as I watched time tick by on the clock at my desk, my fingers tapped restlessly over the piece of fabric I was fixing. A button had popped on one of Hongjoong’s shirts and I’d promised to fix it, half out of kindness and half out of boredom, even though it was one that wasn’t part of the stage wardrobe. I did some paperwork as well, finished some accessories I’d worked on and collected my things as the clock struck 23:00. I locked my office door behind me and then walked to one of the studios at the other side of the building, hoping that Hongjoong followed the familiar pattern he always did when he didn’t have anything else to do as well.

I knocked on the door, shirt in my hand and only a few seconds passed before a sleepy figure opened the door, “Hi” he said, rubbed his eyes before he yawned, stretched his arms over his head and I smiled at him,

“I’m finished with your shirt” I said and handled it to him, a confused wrinkle between his brows, looking a bit lost but he grabbed the shirt, looked at it, remembered with a nod and then thanked me before he stood aside to invite me in and sat down on the chair at the desk again.

I closed the door behind me, leaned against it as I watched him tip the chair back, legs curled up against his chest and he removed the cap he wore and aggressively rubbed his face with his hands as if he could remove the tired state he was in with the motion. The room was full of empty cans of soda, take-away carton boxes and snack packages and it looked as if he’d lived in the studio as much as I’d lived in my office these last days.

“You have a hard time letting it go too, huh?” I asked and he gave me a surprised look, “I mean, I do too. I miss it, the rush, having something to do every day. You with your performance and me making sure that you look amazing doing so”

He met my eyes and chuckled, “Something like that, yeah… " He hid his hands into the cuffs of his sleeve like he was frozen and stifled a big yawn. "I could’ve taken the first days off, most of the songs are already mixed, recorded and just waiting to get a voice over them but instead of going home and relaxing-”

“You’re here, sulking away, fingers itchy, your heart speeding and head in the clouds?” I interrupted and he bit his lip, nodding slowly, looking at me like he didn’t just see me but rather through me, for the first time. Like he recognized that we were two sides of the same coin. A mutual understanding blossomed between us and he tapped on his leg, restlessly as I looked away, nervously swallowing down the feeling of butterflies exploding in my stomach.

“I… need to go” I mumbled, and he sat up, a bit too quick.

“Why?” he asked as I placed my hand on the door handle and my heart skipped at the ache in his voice, like he didn’t want me to leave.

“Go home Joongie, your members need you. They miss their leader”

His jaw tensed up as he paused, and I knew that my words hurt him. He was already self-conscious of how much time he spent away from them, hiding in the safety of his loneliness rather than taking a step back and celebrating the completion of their first era with the people that was as close to him as his family.

“I want you to stay… ” he said, almost a whisper, like he didn’t really wanted me to hear but couldn't stop himself from speaking the words either and I felt my stomach jump as I opened the door and walked out, not allowing myself to stay any longer.

[dramaqueeenamby]

The Tulips Are Too Red

A/N: So, I have a favor to ask of you all. Sooooo many of you have shared such kind words with me, sending encouragement my way in regards to my writing. Many of you even believe that I could be published my day. That still gets to me. 

Anyway, here’s the thing, before I ventured into writing BP fics, I created a completely fictional story that I planned to post on Wattpad once I finished the other stories on there. Well, that never happened. I was working on chapters, getting up to three done but stopped as I was busy with other Wattpad fics. However, you guys have really got me thinking about my writing and just future in general.

So, I’m posting one of the chapters that I’ve written in the hopes that you guys will let me know your honest opinion of it. If it’s shitty, please say so. Constructive criticism will only make me better as a writer. 

Also, as I was rereading it, I realized that I could really turn this into a BP fanfic as well, a T’Challa x OC story once I finish up the rest of the fics that I’m juggling. 

Okay. I’ll shut up and allow you to read. I also won’t tag anyone because this is far from what you’re used to seeing from me.

----

It Is Winter Here

Chapter 1

It is Winter Here.

There are exactly twenty-four hours in a day. In minutes, that number grows to 1,440, and in seconds, it’s a whopping 86,400. Most people don’t think about stuff like that. Time. Unless they’re wondering how much they have left before they can clock off and go home to their adoring wife who’s been slaving over a stove all day. Or maybe their kids who’ve been home alone since they got out of school doing God knows what with God knows who. Other than those scenarios, and maybe a few more, like I said, hardly ever cross the mind.

But I’m not most people.

I tend to think about these things. I think about a lot of things actually. Like how long Craig plans to grow out his hair, or if Tammy will ever realize that that infomercial with claims of a one hundred percent success rate is based on a trial of exactly five participants, four of them, paid ‘volunteers’. I also notice a lot of things. Most of which, again, people are never privy to because of their supercilious concerns.

Like I said.

Not most people.

I watch her, not even attempting to hide my suspicious stare. She’s been sitting in the same spot for over an hour, a People magazine in hand and expensive shades over her eyes. To anyone else, she’s just another patron with plenty of time to spare. To me, she’s a hawk. No one reads the same magazine for an hour straight, especially one with a Kardashian on the cover.

“For someone who literally needs someone to wipe his ass, this guy is one hell of a di*k.” I look over at Candi who has been reading for roughly thirty minutes and is almost halfway through with the 400-page novel. “He sounds cute though. At least, the way she describes him makes him sound cute.”

“So you’d take him to the shop?” Zaria shifts in her seat, eyes staying on the photographic book in her lap. She’s had the same one for over an hour.

Candi giggles and lifts her left shoulder. “He could own the shop.” I roll my eyes and tap my nails against the mahogany wood armrest of my spacious chair. “Candi likes being on top anyway.”

“Candi likes all positions.” I chime, finally throwing in my two cents.

She sighs loudly and flips her blonde locks over a naturally tanned shoulder. “I’m a lover, Nova. You should try it sometime.”

“Oh I think you have enough to give for the three of us, Candi Cane.” I wink and return my eyes to the woman in question. I squeeze the solid chair, ignoring the pressure it puts on my weak nails. She still has that same damn magazine and has again started from the first page, looking over the front cover like she doesn’t already have the scandalous image and cliched caption memorized.

“Guys.” Zaria’s voice brings me back to reality as she pulls down the sleeves of her white shirt. There’s no need for her to do so, but it’s a habit of hers. “It’s time.”

Sure enough, Pat is only feet away from us, that stupid rehearsed smile on his droopy face.

“Already.” Candi pouts and puts her arms in front of her, hands in between her thighs, her busty chest on full display. “But I’m almost done.”

Pat offers a strained smile, chubby fingers going up to adjust his thick-rimmed glasses. “Why don’t you just buy the book, Candi?”

She tilts her head to the side and deepens her pout. “I already spent my allowance.”

“On?” When she smiles wickedly, his Adam's apple moves up and then down. “Candi.”

“Oh relax, Patty.” She giggles again and chews on her bottom lips, untangling her long legs and rising to her full height. “What kind of girl do you think I am?” She pulls out a southern accent and pulls a finger to her mouth, pretending to think. “Or is it woman?”

“I wanna buy mine,” Zaria informs, also standing up, looking like a lost child next to Candi’s lengthy frame. “Nova?”

I get up, taking Candi’s book and placing it on top of mine. “Yeah. Let’s go.” Zaria pulls her sleeves down again and tucks the book under her arm, walking in front of me, leaving poor Pat to deal with Candi while we complete this transaction.

On our way to the registers, I look back and see that the Hawk is walking out, stuffing the magazine in her black Hamilton bag.

She can’t be stealing. It’s a possibility, but judging by the tennis bracelet on her wrist and that rock on her ring finger, stealing seems rather out of character. No. The magazine is clearly hers. I wiggle my fingers and fix my jaw.

Who in the hell comes to a bookstore to read a magazine they already own?

Like I said, hawk.

✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻

The car ride back is long, bumpy, and crowded. The van, overdue for some serious improvements or a junking, has a strong odor. It’s not vomit inducing, but its stench will leave you crinkling your nose when you first get a waft. In the second row, seatbelt stretched and clutching onto a protruding chest, Candi engages in conversation with the driver.

He’s new, probably a tempt, and after a car ride with Candi Wallace, this will be his last time filling in.

“It’s so beautiful.” Zaria murmurs to my left, her tiny fingers and raggedy nails trailing over a portrait of the grand canyon. “The view from the top must be breathtaking.”

I give the picture a few seconds of my time, for her sake. It is nice, but nature has never really stood out to me. Too many elements that I can’t control. “Maybe one day you can take your own picture. That one, I’d maybe even frame.”

Aside from a small smile, she says nothing.

The rest of the ride is filled with Candi’s musing and Pat’s occasional business calls. When we pull up, the driver and Pat flash ID’s; the guard peaks his head in the car to make sure that everything checks out.

After Candi flashes him a wink and places her index finger in her mouth, he gives her a one-over and lets us in.

“He wants me.” She mouths to us and then giggles, clapping her hands together and resuming her goal of bugging the driver. When we pull up to the entrance, she’s the first one out, blowing him a kiss and happily waving. “Call me.”

“Maybe,” I add on, smiling when she shoots me a glare. “I couldn’t help.”

“Jealousy really isn’t becoming of you, Nova.” She raises her chin and saunters through the automatic doors, switching her hips and uttering variations of hello to everyone she passes.

“You gotta admit.” Zaria starts, keeping her book clutched against her chest. “She’s fun to be around.”

I look over my shoulder to see Pat watching us closely. He’s so annoying.

I roll my eyes. “My lady, you and I have very different definitions of fun.” Swinging my arm around her shoulder is easy as we’re roughly the same height. I think I have an inch on her, maybe even less.

She laughs, and I crack a small smile. Those are becoming more prevalent by the day. It’s a stark contrast from our first meeting where she woke me up out of my sleep with screams and sobs that were only silenced by a heavy sedative.

We’ve come a long way.

“Ladies.” Pat interrupts. I suppress my eye roll.

As always, Candi is the first to volunteer. Smiling happily, she keeps her arms up wide and legs spread perfectly. “It’s new.” She informs happily when the man reaches her chest and pouts when he says nothing in reference to Candi’s new bra. When he’s done, Candi mouths ‘as*hat’ to us, and I put myself in front of the man before he gets a chance to call on Zaria.

With a bored face, I let him do his job, sending a glare when he keeps his hands on my as* for too long.

Creep.

When it comes to Zaria’s turn, I take her book from her, sending her a reassuring grin. She doesn’t return my gesture, but I’m okay with that. Her eyes say thanks. That’s enough for me.

Any sign of trust from Zaria is enough for me.

My glare stays on the jerk the entire time. I watch his every movement, waiting for him to try something with her. When he gets to her chest, I feel fingers move about, fighting the urge to ball my fist. I can literally see the discomfort on her part. She’s literally counting the seconds until he moves his hands anywhere else. I don’t know if he can tell that I’m willing to have my level 5 access revoked or if he senses the ardent apprehension radiating from her, but he keeps it short and professional. As soon as he’s done, she’s back by me, reaching for her book.

“Well, he was a meanie,” Candi comments as we wait for Pat to put the key in the panel right next to the elevator.

“Too touchy feely for my liking,” I reply loud enough so Pat can hear. He says nothing. Neither does Zaria. The rest of the elevator ride is in silence aside from Candi humming “Oops! I Did It Again.”

When we finally reach our floor, the three of us stand outside the elevator for our evaluation.

“Well, you ladies seemed to have done rather well today.” Pat smiles, the fat on his face parallel with the rolls that make up his neck. “If you’d like, we can try again next week.” I yawn, wishing that I could just walk away. I’d risk losing my clearance for Zaria or even Candi, but not myself.

Someone has to keep these two from extending their bid.

“Tomorrow the group outing is to the aquarium.” He smiles fondly like this is the best news we’ve heard all day. One glance to a somewhat excited Zaria makes me realize that for her, it probably is. “I think you all would have a fine time.”

“I wanna show off my new bra. I’m game.” Candi grabs her boobs, lifting them with a wink and a smile. “Nova?”

I can literally think of a million things that I’d rather do than spend a day at the aquarium, but one look at Zaria, and I know my decision has already been made for me.

“I guess a day with Happy Feet won’t be too bad.” What I want to say is it won’t kill me, but around here, there are just some words you want to try and avoid. Kill being one of them. It’s for good reason though.

Even I’m not too much of an as*hole to admit that.

✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻

For dinner, we had chicken lasagna with mixed vegetables, garlic bread,  and apple pie for dessert. If it sounds magically delicious, you’re magically wrong.

The chicken was bland, the vegetables cold, and the garlic bread might have left me with some cracked teeth. The apple pie was decent, but nothing to brag about. I shouldn’t complain. Yesterday we had beef casserole.

Majority of my plate ended up in the trash.

“He was cute though, right?” Candi brushes through her hair, that dazed look in her eyes. That can only mean one thing. She’s already been given her nighttime dosage. “Of course he was. I only fu*k with the best.”

Zaria, fresh-faced, arms out and exposed in her short-sleeved shirt and blue Soffee shorts, offers a small laugh. “He must have been close to forty Candi.”

“And I thought you only liked ballers?” I wondered aloud from my position on Zaria’s bed. Next to me, she continues to admire the pictures in her book.

“Well, duh. I need a middleman to get to him.” She says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, moving her shoulders from side to side, admiring her reflection. “I think my tits are getting bigger.”

“Your tits or your ego?”

She glares through the mirror and then pouts. “Boo, you whore.”

Zaria frowns. “You know I don’t like that word.”

“You don’t like anything, Zaria.” Candi rolls her eyes.

“Better than liking everything.” Zaria shoots back with a sly smile. I high five her, much to Candi’s chagrin. “If you catch my drift.”

“You guys are mean.” She stomps her feet and resumes brushing her hair.

When Zaria yawns, I realize her that her Clonezepam has already kicked in. Her lids are heavy, and she moves to put her book up.

“Uh oh. I think someone is sweepy.” She says in a baby voice and moves to pinch Zaria’s cheek, but Zaria swats her hand away. Candi laughs and sits on the bed, giving her a half hug. “Night, ladybug.” She kisses her cheek and brushes the top of her head.“You know I’m right down the hall if ya’ need me, sugar.”

“And I’m right next door,” I add on, lightly punching her on the arm. “Sleep tight, kid.”

“Thanks, guys.” She smiles gratefully, getting up at the same time we do so she can pull back the covers. She doesn’t even care that the horizontal lines on the inside of her thighs from not even two years ago are on full display. In the privacy of her room, even with Candi and I, Zaria is true to be herself.

We all are.

Candi yawns loudly with outstretched arms. “I’m wiped.”

“Doesn’t take much.” I chuckle, but hug her side. “Good night Candi Cane.”

She smiles brightly, her pearly whites distracting the small mole on the right side of her chin. “Night, babycakes.” I don’t even react as she squeezes my butt. I simply shake my head and walk over to my door.

I stop when I go to turn the handle, noticing the light peaking through the bottom of the door.

Smirking, I walk in and shut it behind me.

“Can I help you with something?”

He’s sitting on the green, faux leather chair in the corner of my room. I narrow my eyes, wishing that I could wipe that smug grin off his chiseled face. He leans forward, his green scrubs a contrast against his sun-kissed skin, the short sleeves clinging against solid muscle.

“I’m here for night check.”

I chuckle, purposely taking my time as I make my way over to him. “Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you Mr..,” I look over at the badge on his shirt. “Collins, but I have level 5 access. I don’t need a night check.” My body is jolted forward, my knees immediately separating so that I’m straddling him. “This is highly unprofessional and extremely inappropriate.” I moan as one hand goes to stroke my already hardened nipple and the other slips into my shorts.

He mimics my chuckle, satisfied when he feels the wetness already pooling from my core. “I’ve seen your records, Ms. Young.” He stands us up, his hand still in my shorts, teasingly running his finger up and down my folds. “Breaking rules is your specialty.”

I look down at him, his blue eyes holding nothing but pent up lust. Using my index finger, I run my finger down his cheek, parting his mouth and tugging on his bottom lip.

“Then what are you waiting for, Doctor?”

With a guttural growl, he throws me on the bed. I don’t think I need to tell you what happened next.

Two hours later, he’s long gone, and I’m out like a light.

Just another typical day at Lakeshore Mental Hospital.

[erhiem]

Here at Fustony, we love supporting local brands, and we get excited when we see a new product from Egypt. There has been a lot of talk lately about encouraging women to embrace their natural hair, and we are now more aware of products that work well for our curls and damaging products. And as a curly-haired girl, I know that using sulfate and paraben free products is the best for my hair. I was looking for new hair products when I came across Locken by Hannah Ghonim that a lot of people were talking about. The main goal of this brand is to embrace your hair, be it curly or wavy, and this product works for all hair types.

I had the pleasure of interviewing the multi-talented Hana Ghoniem, the woman behind the promising Locken hair product.

“I encourage everyone to embrace their natural self. Curly, straight, wavy, long, short, whatever, Locken is for you“

1. Hana Ghonim You’re known for your angelic voice, but creating a hair product was an unusual move for you. What inspired you to create your own hair care line?

It was a move I’d been thinking about for a while, but I was so immersed in my music for the longest time that it wasn’t a priority. During COVID, everything slowed down, so it gave me time and energy to be able to focus and pursue other passions.

My hair defined me for as long as I can remember. It is a huge part of my identity. I also perform, go to weddings, go to fancy events with my natural curls. It started a conversation with my fans about embracing your natural self and I felt like many girls aspire to do so. That’s when the idea of ​​LOCKEN was born. With Locken, I wanted to create products that could help everyone highlight their natural looks. In fact, hair to me is not just hair, it is an artistic form of self-expression, it articulates identity and point of view, screams presence and is an extension of who you are. Locken just means that your hair speak as loud as your personality.

Up close and personal with Cynthia Khalifa

2. Locken is an unusual name; What is the story behind it? How did you come up with the name?

Yes this is unusual! I attended a German school and a big part of who I am today is the German language and culture. This is where Locken is derived, it means curl in German, and in addition, it is a sentence in English. “Lock in moisture, locks of hair, etc..” Which brings me to my next point, that Locken isn’t just for curly hair. Curly hair defines me as a person, but I encourage everyone to embrace my natural self. Curly, straight, wavy, long, short, whatever, Locken is for you.

3. You’ve only launched one product, should we expect more? If yes, would you like to give us a special hint for the readers of Fustiny?

Yes, we are already working on our next products! We don’t want to give any spoilers, but here’s a hint for you, it’s an essential part of anyone’s hair care routine!

Up close and personal with Noor Ehab

4. Tell us about the weird phase you went through as a kid, from one curly girl to another. My hair used to be short because I couldn’t manage my curls every day in school.

Growing up, I was always told that my hair was too big, too curly, and most importantly, not wavy enough. All my childhood photos compiled of straight strands one after another, I just wanted to look like everyone else. As I grew up and began to find my own identity, I realized that my hair was not stopping me, it had made me more special. That’s when I fell in love with my big, curly hair and learned to prioritize taking care of it.

5. Who is your favorite curly hair influencer?

I follow a lot of local and international curly hair bloggers and I don’t have a favorite per se. When I decided to start Locken, a lot of my research and findings were inspired by their stuff!

Miam Mahmood talks about the other side of modeling

6. There are a lot of kids growing up these days who love their curls; Would you say your product is safe for them to use?

Yes it is very safe, all ingredients are clean, paraben, sulfate and silicone free. At Locken we say yes to vitamins, antioxidants and natural oils. So definitely, it is recommended for everyone.

Ingy Elengbawy shows us 6 ways to style a scarf this summer

7. You have beautiful curls; Do you use heat or are you a firm believer in the no-heat movement?

I’m a firm believer in the no-heat movement, I’ve embraced my natural curls for the past 10 years and I’ve never felt more confident in my hair.

8. Of course, the manufacturing process was difficult; How long did you test before releasing the product? Have you tried it on yourself before?

The manufacturing process was so arduous, we went back and forth with several factories until we chose the one we were most comfortable with. We really worked tirelessly to find the right formula using only premium and clean ingredients to ensure that all our products conform to international standards. I tried it on myself for months and we had a focus group that included people with all hair types to make sure the effects suit all hair needs. The testing process itself took about 8 months, but here we are, finally on the market!

This is my personal favorite colour. I love that it’s neutral and I feel like it matches my personality. It’s not too flashy or too childish, it’s the perfect balance. It’s a color that screams youth, bold, fresh and outspoken! These are exactly what Locken stands for and we are proud to show it!

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[seoulfulscenarios]

The Art of Risk - 01

Pairing: Christian Yu x journalist! reader (AMBW)

Warnings: swearing and possible smut in later chapters because who wouldn’t with Christian i’m sorry. I wanted to explore a new side of my writing with an AMBW pairing. <3

Word count: ~5.4k

Author’s Note: This is why I’ve been so silent I’m sorry...

Description: Journalism: the art of reporting. Or, as I like to say, the art of risk. Before getting hard-hitting stories published in newspapers worldwide, many hazards, enemies, and struggles must be faced. But, we never expect to find these challenges hiding in the most innocent and lighthearted of topics covered, waiting for their next opportunity to strike.

Bzz.

Bzz.

BZZ.

Your index finger digs into The Messenger’s building doorbell for the umpteenth time, the noise so alarming that you can even hear it through the glass doors before you. Still, there’s no one to be found.

You turn your head to look behind you once again, trying to see if there’s some returning staff member that you can let you in along with them. Yet, based on the locks on the other side of the door, it’s obvious that none of these journalists would let you in without a fight. Well, if there’s no one that can let you in on the outside, those inside better hurry up. You were not about to sweat out this expensive pantsuit.

It isn’t until many, many, humid moments later that someone else finally comes into view. A short-haired woman, about your age, glares at you through the heavy glass, and you return her rude gesture with an awkward smile. Your doorbell ringing must’ve had her ears ringing.

After shamelessly ogling at the box braids framing your face, her aloof gaze travels down to the rest of your body. Recognizing the newspaper’s ID card patting softly against your stomach, her defensive posture softens immediately, and the ice covering her eyes melts in a pool of warmth. After the front desk receptionist works her way through all the top-notch security precautions covering the front entrance, the door slides open with a creak, as if sounding its appreciation of being liberated every so often from its shackles.

She moves aside to give you space to make your way inside the building.

“You’re Miss Y/N, I assume?” she asks in fluent English.

“Yes ma'am, this is my first day here, and from what I understand, the editor-in-chief wants to talk with me first,” you answer, swallowing your nerves.

“Of course, then I’ll show you to his office,” she announces, turning to head towards the elevator.

You follow after her silently, taking note of the building’s atmosphere. Other than a couple of journalists lounging on a couch, staring shamelessly at you and your foreign appearance as you pass by, little to no activity meets your eyes. It’s a complete contrast from the description you found months ago under the foreign internship’s listings, and it’d be an understatement to say that you weren’t at least a little disappointed. The most active thing in the room is probably your heart rate, racing faster and faster as your approach the finish line of the editor-in-chief’s office.

It isn’t until the elevator stops at the third floor that anything threatens to break the icy, stoic atmosphere of the newspaper headquarters, altering your perspective of the place permanently. As soon as the elevator doors open and you only take one, two, three steps out and onto the third floor, a spooked journalist narrowly dodges you in his sprint around the corner and into the compact space behind you, more than likely on his way to gathering information on a story-worthy event that just popped up on the staff radar.

Unfazed by the man’s frantic actions, the receptionist continues on ahead of you. Trailing behind the lady’s confident, calculated strides, your head turns to observe what you can rightfully assume to be the building’s newsroom. A team of approximately fifty journalists run forwards, backwards, in, out, and to and fro the large area while a handful of people, presumably editors, gesture wildly amidst the newsworthy mess.

You can’t help the relieved sigh that leaves your body at the sight. Now, this is what you came here for. The scene before you is so convincing that you don’t even notice that the lady has stopped at a door before you, causing you to stumble in your heels. She bangs her knuckles against the wooden door repeatedly until a voice answers in Korean.

The male voice sounds aged and slightly annoyed: probably a direct result of the receptionist’s boisterous knocking. The only word you can make out is your name.

“Ah, send her in.”

“Yes, sir,” she complies, turning to you with a gentle smile. “Well, I don’t think I’m needed here anymore,” she chirps, bowing courteously at you one more time. “I hope that your time spent here will be enjoyable and rewarding.”

You nod at her, forcing a polite smile over your anxiety.

She’s not even going to lead me into the room?

Without another word, she’s off, disappearing into the elevator with a group of young reporters.

One.

You pull deep within yourself to grab onto the wavering amount of confidence you had, using it as power to move your arm towards the door.

Two.

Your head spins. Your heart races. Your throat clenches up, keeping oxygen from keeping your mind sane.

Three.

Your hand hovers the knob as you inhale shakily.

I have nothing to lose; oh, who am I kidding! I have everything to lose! Money, time, a future—

The door gives way under the pressure of your hand, opening silently in front of you. In front of you, only a number of feet, sits a middle-aged man, spinning a pen with his slender fingers. The action itself would be written off by anyone as childlike, but the editor-in-chief’s eyes carry an air of maturity and authority within them, affecting everything within a ten mile radius. Including you. He very much so holds the future of your career in his hands, and judging by the skillfulness of his digits, he could mold out a variety of outcomes to this vocational vacation.

“Ah!”

You jump at the sudden outburst. Your temporary boss’ voice is full and supported, bouncing off the walls of his decorative office and possibly vibrating in the eardrums of the journalists a few doors down. After scanning you a handful of times, the editor-in-chief rises from his seat to greet his new team member.

“We’re very excited for you to become a new addition to our team,” Hwang congratulates, reaching to shake our hand, which you take eagerly. “Our entire team knows of the reputation Northwestern University has in the Western journalism world, but we’re also aware of the impact your reports personally had on those not only at your school but potentially across the nation.”

You nod repeatedly in gratitude.

“Sir, you have no idea how much your words mean to me,” you respond, shaking his hand with even more vigor. “It’s a blessing to be across the world doing what I love.”

”I only say what I mean,” Mr. Hwang reasons. “It’s our goal to have the most diverse group of journalists possible. That way, while sticking to the principle of objectivity, we can incorporate as many bright minds and writing perspective imaginable.

“So, how has your time been so far?” He prods for a response. “I know you haven’t been here long, but what has been your impression of the staff so far?”

“The only word I can use to describe this place is ‘lively,’” you reply, crossing your legs. “And that’s just what I like; I love being active.”

“But, enough with that,” he says brusquely, putting his hands on his desk to interlace them professionally. “I’m sure you’re more curious about your first assignment.”

No, you don’t jump for joy; you literally vibrate with joy, trying your best to keep all your excitement contained in your fists. What would be doing next? Investigating the state of relations between North and South Korea? Bringing the light to some of the government corruption nearly rotting the nation? Or, better yet: finding the true reasons behind the impeachment of Park Geun-hye? God, there are so many corners of South Korea that you could explore, writing stories that could possibly turn their way of life upside-down, if you think anymore you might explode—

“Tell me, Y/N, have you ever heard of Dream Perfect Regime?”

“Dream Perfect Regime?” The words roll off your lips with some difficulty, as if you’re the one doing your best to speak to a worker in English and not the other way around. “I’m afraid not. Are they possibly a government opposition party?”

Not an opposition party, maybe, oh no, it can’t be a—

“Not even close,” Mr. Hwang says while wiping the tears from his eyes, which were created by your unsound guess. “But that is an interesting story idea! Upcoming opposition parties, interesting indeed. No, I can’t get carried away— Y/N, Dream Perfect Regime is, as quoted from their official website, ‘an independent, multi-genre music and video group.’”

As quick as you could blink your eyes, the fire of passion scorching your heart is doused with water, leaving only a few fragments of your hopes and dreams behind. So, this is the first hard-hitting subject you’re going to cover under a big name newspaper? Maybe he’s joking, just to calm down some of your nerves, considering you’re new to this place.

“Group? As in… Korean pop?”

“That’s for you to find out,” he says, confirming absolutely nothing.

The light reflects off his glasses, and your new boss presses them further against the bridge of his nose, like he’s in some cliche anime series.

You didn’t have a problem with Korean pop at all; it just wasn’t your cup of tea, and it definitely wasn’t what you had packed your bags and given up easy access to your natural hair products for.

“I chose you for this story knowing you’d probably know nothing about it, so you can have a completely objective mindset when diving in and collecting information to report on.”

It took all your might not to sink in the comfy chair. His wording means that your story has to be about Korean pop in some form or fashion.

As big as Korean pop and the hallyu wave may be, it still falls under your own umbrella of soft news. There’s an obvious reason it was called soft news. Soft news wasn’t tough enough to break past the thick barrier of mystery covering the answers to the world; it only left a nick in the surface, leaving Earth’s deepest questions unanswered. And that definitely wasn’t what you were here for.

“I even went out of my way to set up an interview for you, considering that this is your first time reporting in a foreign country and writing on such a large scale,” Mr. Hwang continues, reaching into a cup on his desk to locate a pen. “But, don’t get used to things like this; this advantage is for this time and this time only.”

After scribbling something, the editor-in-chief hands you a piece of paper, with what you can assume to be contact information on one of the group’s members.

“You’re going to be following this Dream Perfect Regime for three months of your time here,” he announces.

Your mouth threatens to fall open at his declaration.

“Three months?”

You’re incredulous.

“Just about,” Mr. Hwang confirms, twirling the pen in his hand effortlessly.

“For the approximately three months that you’re there,” At the start of this introductory phrase, you begrudgingly pull your own pen from your bag, putting it against the paper he gave you moments before, “I want you to publish a story that’s more like a narrative than a simple news article, almost like you’re keeping up with a diary or a blog of some sorts.”

You cringe inwardly at these instructions. Blog-style reporting? You didn’t see anything like this whenever you researched this abroad program. That’s kind of one of the whole reasons you applied to intern in South Korea and not in Spain in the first place.

“You might be thinking why I want you to write in this style, considering that most of our articles stick the commonly used inverted pyramid style,” the middle-aged man before you continues, catching you completely off-guard.

Could this man read your mind, too?

“In addition to publishing stories about the most relevant issues pertaining to today’s world, I also feel that it’s important to keep our audiences informed on the more simple and discrete things in life,” Hwang explains.

You stop writing to lock eyes with him.

“We need to show more the intimate sides of our writing to our readers, too, and Y/N, you’ll be the journalist that plants the seeds for this change.”

He rises from his chair, bringing out his hand for you to shake.

“Are you willing to be a part of this experiment?”

His hand can only hold and carry so much, but to your mind, it held so much uncertainty. In your four plus years at Northwestern University, no one had ever assigned you to write a story of this sort, and as editor-in-chief for this past year, you’d be stupid if you assigned one to yourself. Yet you still grab onto his hand like a lifeline, taking from him all the challenges to be faced, enemies to be made, and tears to be shed over the next few months.

“Without hesitation, sir,” you answer, the anxiety and frustration you felt in this given moment being transferred into the handshake and not your voice. The editor-in-chief winces at your actions. “Adversity induces improvement, after all.”

Yeah, right. It isn’t like your college loans give you a choice in the matter.

“Dream Perfect Regime.”

Your head hangs off the bed as you test the words on your tongue for the umpteenth time, almost allowing for your braids to hit the floor. Almost.

Ever since you were a little kid, imagining what’d happen next in your outlandish narratives, you always hung upside down whenever you had an extreme case of writer’s block. Even in high school, during those numerous instances in which an inexperienced you would never know what to write for an eye-catching lead, a five minute hang had the gears in your brain spinning to work. It’s never failed you, that is, until now. And you aren’t even writing yet! Your brain can’t even come up with a simple outline?

“Dream.”

“Perfect.”

“Regime.”

You move your hands to massage your scalp, hopefully helping stimulate more blood flow. Not even a minute later, you rise up, putting your face in your hands. Nothing. And that’s when you end up leaning on your back up plan for support, the Internet.

Pulling your laptop into your lap, you sigh impatiently as you wait for it to load to life.

“I should at least listen to some of their music first,” you mumble, opening the YouTube home page. “So maybe I can get a feel of what I’ll be working with for the next three damn months.”

Typing in the three word phrase, you scroll through the search results, choosing the channel’s video with the most views. You rub your weary eyes through the mandatory ads, allowing your mind veer to other matters – like what to eat for a midnight snack because you’re famished and the only things you’ve successfully prepared and eaten in these past three days are instant ramen and fast food – until the simple black and white logo of Dream Perfect Regime appears on the screen.

Its simplicity veils some sort of artistic complexity, which you soon realize once the opening verse of a rapper, who you soon know as Live, fills your ears.

By 3 am, the English parts of Eung Freestyle are already etched into your memory. The rest just comes out as gibberish.

“Right here, sir,” you direct, urging the cabdriver to pull over. You almost touch the glass windows caught yourself immediately; everything seems too expensive to touch, as if it’d be tarnished by your debt-ridden hands; the to the plush seats of the taxi you ride on your way to DPR’s main building, it’s all top notch.

Truly Gangnam Style.

Captivated by the luxury of Seoul’s Gangnam district, you even almost tip the driver on the way out of the vehicle for the comfortable ride, but not before recollecting the information ingrained into your brain by hours upon hours of Korean culture research. It doesn’t take long for your more pressing matters to occupy your mind, for your attention immediately transfers itself from Gangnam’s luxuries to DPR once the address number meets your curious eyes.

Matching this number with the piece of paper only given to you two days earlier, crane your head up to fully examine the group’s headquarters. An example of modern architecture, the building stretches towards the clouds, only narrowly avoiding contact with the sun in its trivial pursuit.

You walk forward to look further past the glass door, pressing your hand against the material to peer inside. Homely pot plants. Pieces of empty furniture. Generic wall paintings. Complimentary office pens. Everything you’d expect from a dentist’s lobby area, not an innovative visual and music group. Professionalism is an essential value, but it in high amounts is just… bland.

Unfortunately, nothing piques your obnoxious curiosity, well, nothing except a mysterious man approaching the door to let you in.

Actually, scratch mysterious man —a painfully handsome man. Standing at average height, the man’s most striking features are his fuckboy haircut — which is still so fucking irresistible to you, god damnit— , a stud topping his straight nose, and tattoos vining up one of his arms, decorating the lean muscle underneath.

He’s fucking perfect.

This walking piece of art only dons minimalistic clothing, however. The only interruption to the black, blank space of a shirt covering his tires are the three letters “DPR,” lying on the area covering his heart.

Speaking of hearts: yours feels like it’ll burst from your chest at any second, creating a mess on the ground underneath you. To you, his simple attire only emphasizes his attractiveness; it serves as a foil to his good looks. After unlocking the door, he waves you in with a flick of his Rolex-clad wrist. You hurry to meet him like a lost, innocent puppy.

“You’re Christian, right?”

“Yeah.”

Was that an Australian accent you heard, too? Well, it definitely wasn’t American. Jesus Christ, this man had everything.

“Great,” you flash an amiable smile, attempting some time of subtle flirting. “So I didn’t get lost.” He smiles in return at your goofy comment; the gesture puts a spotlight on the sculpted features of his face, making them ten times brighter.

“And you’re Y/N?”

You nodded out of your daydream, reaching out almost mechanically to shake his hand. Christian’s handshake was just as firm as yours, telling you that he was just as confident about this interview as you. Actually, you were just a little intimated, mainly by how good-looking he was.

“Yes, sir, that’s me!”

He opens the door to let you into the multi-storied building.

“Let’s take the elevator,” Christian says, pointing in the general direction.

“Wow, your company owns this entire building?”

They must have a larger presence in the industry if they can afford this entire place, you reason.

“Not exactly,” Christian answers, leaning back comfortably on the railing as the elevator makes its way up. From this position, you can see the tattoos decorating his skin. There must be some story written behind the detailed ink, but you’ll have to get to that later.

“DPR originally started with no funding at all, so we at first conducted all our business from our manager’s condo,” he begins. “But as we started getting more and more recognition, we got more funding and support from other groups here in Seoul. The floors under us are occupied by two companies that we receive funding from. I’m confident that we’ll eventually be able to afford our very own building, though.”

You nodded courteously.

“True, you can only move up from here,” you agree.

The ding of the elevator ends the small talk. He allows you to exit the elevator first.

“The door’s to the right,” he informs, pointing his finger in that direction. You follow his words, allowing your heels to clack against the wooden floor until you finally come face-to-face with a door.

“Okay, now here is the real Dream Perfect Regime, none of that doctor-type shit you witnessed downstairs,” Christian announces, twisting the door open.

You can’t help but laugh at his improper introduction. Your laughs dies down at the sight of their headquarters. Stepping foot into the large room, the first thing you notice is a large sign showcasing the group’s logo, surrounded by pictures of their members. Live is found in most of the photographs, either performing or signing autographs. It feels like the headquarters of The Rolling Stones magazine, even though you’ve never stepped foot in it.

Your feet stop in front of what you assume is their lounge area, dotted by black furniture.

“We can interview right here, I guess,” Christian suggests, plopping down in the couch before you. “Is there anyone else from DPR here?” you wonder. “No, I’m the only one here today, but the rest of our group might just be working on things alone,” Christian says, reaching forward for a bottle of water.

“You said that you’re from the States, right?” Christian asked, moving to sit in the couch before you.

You twist the cap back onto the frigid, bottled water and place the drink onto one of the coasters. After letting the water hit your insides, you nod and explain.

“Yes, I just graduated from Northwestern University in the US, but I’m here interning abroad in Korea as a guest writer for The Messenger,” you elaborate.

“Oh, wow, so you must be pretty good then, right?”

A chuckle leaves your lips; his compliment has your professional demeanor almost dissolving completely.

“I wouldn’t consider myself really good,” you answer slowly, twisting and pulling at one of your curly locks of hair. Upon noticing the habit of yours, you force yourself to fold your hands in your lap as you continue. “I just have a genuine passion for what I do, and I feel that zeal overpowers pure skill anyway. To some, I guess that they say passion and skill are intertwined in my work.

“Well, anyway, I didn’t come all the way to this side of Seoul to talk about my craft.”

Christian flashed a smile, bringing a hand up to run through his black tresses.

Reaching into your expensive shoulder bag, your fingers glide past your lucky, spiraled notepad before pulling it out and placing it in your lap. It isn’t long before a couple of wooden pens and a high-tech recording device accompany it. Christian’s eyes follow your movements as you click the recording device to life, his gaze so intense that it catches you off-guard when you lift your head to meet him again. You blink a few times before continuing.

“I-I think it’s time now that the world sees every part of Dream Perfect Regime, from start to finish, not just the finished product. And it’s my job to make this happen.”

After passing Christian the recorder and instructing him on how to hold it properly, in order to make sure his interview isn’t muffled by some careless error, he’s ready to go.

And so, the interview begins.

Just like you mentioned moments before, in a few minutes, you find yourself delving past the group’s extensive projects and into the backstories of those who shaped them. It’s almost like unrolling camera film and looking at the individual frames, inspecting the parts before rolling them altogether into one fluid, action scene. To Christian, Dream Perfect Regime is centered around a group of eclectic individuals who, once joined together, offer to the world something that has never been seen in history. And you can feel his love for the arts through the way Christian’s eyes light up with excitement, through the way his hands move here and there and to and fro, and through the way warm, genuine smile spread across his face. Passion like this is contagious; it’s tangible, something that you can reach for in the air and place in your back pocket, before it overtakes and envelopes you with the same warmth and enjoyment, putting everything before you in the same positive light.

“I’m really sorry about this, but my editor in chief is calling,” you sigh, putting your notepad down in place of your smartphone. “I really don’t know why, considering he knew very well that I’d be interviewing at this time.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Christian assures you, laughing, in an empathetic tone. “Take your time.”

You nod graciously at the chief editor while finally answering the call after the fourth ring. Putting your hand against the phone’s receiver, a firm but hesitant “Hello?” escapes your lips.

“Y/N!”

Your temporary boss’ voice is very enthusiastic but just as obnoxious; it’s so forceful that your hand does nothing to hide the conversation from Christian’s ears.

“Did everything work out with the interview?”

“Y-Yes,” you answer, straining to mask the annoyance in your voice, “I’m still with Christian right now, actually.”

“Still?” Just as you’re taking in that breath of air to respond, the editor-in-chief is already answering his own concerns. “If you want a good, hard-hitting story, it’s always best to ask as many questions as possible, I suppose?

He interrupts your thoughts again.

“Well, anyway, I have to go, Y/N. Someone might’ve found more information on one of our top stories at the moment!”

“Oh, yes, sir, I’ll see you—”

That obnoxious beep fills your ears before you can finish your goodbyes. Christian’s laugh, which you’ve gotten accustomed to within the few hours you’ve had interviewing so far, covers this nuisance. His laugh, it’s pleasing to the ears; whenever the distinct noise comes from his lips, it gives you more power and motivation to ask him questions that will, hopefully, make more laughter leave him.

“Is he always like that?” Christian questions.

 "Well, from the week that I’ve known him for, I’d say ‘yeah,’” you answer honestly, taking this minimal amount of break time to edit and elaborate on some of your notes.  

“But he means well,“ you assure him quickly, and maybe even yourself. "His mind just moves at a mile per minute, constantly and constantly.”

“I can tell.”

Christian grins cheekily and takes this break time occupy himself as well, specifically in something tucked away in his front pocket. As a nosy journalist, it’s almost second nature for you to nitpick at every movement your interviewee makes, even if it’s something as subtle as this. Your head shoots up from your notes to watch Christian again. From his pocket he pulls something that almost looks like an… e-cig?

“You vape?”

You can’t help the way the words come from your mouth; your voice is laced with disgust, but just a tiny bit, or at least you hope a tiny bit, so that Christian doesn’t notice. Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit: no matter the matter, you can never keep your honest mouth closed. In the journalism world, you wonder, is this a blessing or a curse? Probably a curse, at least given the current circumstances.

Unfortunately, Christian notices the way your words twist with astonishment; his brows furrow as he stares at you.

“Occasionally,” he replies, tucking the e-cig back into his pocket. “You don’t have asthma or anything, I hope not?” 

“Oh, no,” you answer slowly, doing the best in your mind to choose words and phrases that would offend the editor the least. To your opinionated self, it’s like balancing on a tightrope; any offensive comment could upset the man and send you falling into the pit of unemployment. “I just feel really strongly about things like that.”

Christian chuckles at your words, leaning forward to rest his arms on his thighs and bring his hands together. It’s a position that epitomizes relaxation, but the next words come from his voice a little too forced for you to remain calm.

“Despite what the articles say online, vaping isn’t nearly as harmful to the body as cigarettes are,” he explains. “It only has a handful of chemicals in it, at most, plus—”

You can’t help but interrupt him.

“I actually wrote an article for my college newspaper on vaping, and I was able to find much more information on it than what everyone tells us,” you counter. Your brain spills out straight facts, that you can almost feel a headache coming on from the sheer force from it. And all the while, Christian does nothing but sit up to cross his arms, listening stubbornly to your argument. No words escape from his lips, but his body language already says enough.

“—So, after reporting on this, my views on vaping’s effects on the human body were changed drastically, so much that I—”

“Isn’t journalism based on objectivity and not subjectivity?” It’s finally Christian’s turn to cut you off. He stares at you with a rather stoic look on his devastatingly handsome face. with a smile it’d be nice

“Some like to see it that way, but generally, yes.”

What is he getting at?

“Then maybe your interviews should be based on reporting about my actual group than defining someone’s life choices that obviously have nothing to do with you in the first place,” Christian comments, just before reaching into his pocket to take an inhale from his e-cig.

You at least tried to mask the disgust from the question that spurred on this debate, but Christian is less merciful in delivering his blows. The disrespectful tone in his voice is almost tangible, something that you can pick out with your fingers. Your hands tightened around the pen and recording device, so much now that they’d probably both shatter at any given moment.

“There can’t be too many life choices for you when your life is probably gonna be cut short by that poison, so why should it matter now?” You nearly hiss at the ex-idol.

Christian choked at your sass, turning the otherwise aesthetically cloud of vapor into a spinning mess. It obviously caught him off-guard. You couldn’t help but smirk at the nick to his otherwise aloof demeanor, but your face fell immediately in an attempt to maintain professionalism.

Well, this situation wasn’t exactly professional journalism at all now that you decided to bring your personal opinions into the report. But anyway—

“You do realize that I could end this interview at any time,” the man warned, his voice turning into a near growl. “I don’t deserve to listen to this shit.”

One of your eyebrows raised on their own will. Oh, profanity now?

You force a smile at his words. “Of course,” the words stretched off your sharp tongue, “I have just as much power as you do in this situation, however.”

Crossing your legs, you leaned back in your seat and placed your hands on each arm of the couch. From this position, you felt powerful and formidable, almost like royalty.

“But, but, but, I’m also positive that the other members of Dream Perfect Regime would be upset that your attitude cost you an interview with a journalist under one of the finest news broadcasting companies in Korea,” you explained. “I mean, it was someone else and not who called me in the first place.

In the back of your mind, there was a shrill, shrieking voice, begging for your stubborn, sassy ass to stop inciting this man’s anger. If you weren’t careful, Christian could shut down this interview and send you all the way back to the States, ending this rare internship opportunity and your future career before it even began. Your impertinent ways, however, gave the logical part of your mind a middle finger and continued on.

“But, of course,” the words stretched again from your mouth, in an obvious effort to aggravate the man, “the choice to continue or end the interviewing process, which I ensure will be solely over your projects from here-on-out, is ultimately up to you, sir.”

A bright smile accompanied your last words. With your words, Christian lifts his e-cig to take another long drag from it, doing nothing to prevent it from hitting your face. It’s the last act of defiance he has against you. The warm gaze in his eyes, that initially soothed your nerves, has been iced over by pure rage.

“Next question.”

Other than that careless slip of your tongue, the rest of the interview goes as planned, with you getting as much general information as possible about the group. You both agree to meet up early in the morning tomorrow to meet with the rest of DPR.

“I feel like I was able to get a positive perspective about DPR through this first interview,” you say, sauntering out the headquarters. “Hopefully, tomorrow is even better than today—”

“Don’t you fucking dare get to thinking that just because I’m calm and courteous through this interviewing shit that we’re good friends,” Christian warns. “Anything outside of business between us, I have fair game to treat you however I want.”

And with that, Christian slams the door to his group’s headquarters, leaving you to take the journey down the elevator and out the building alone.

You click your tongue in annoyance.

Well, damn.

[libralita]

Death Note Part 2

Writer: Tsugumi Ohba

Illustrator: Takeshi Obata

Summary: Light Yagami is an ace student with great prospects—and he's bored out of his mind. But all that changes when he finds the Death Note, a notebook dropped by a rogue Shinigami death god. Any human whose name is written in the notebook dies, and now Light has vowed to use the power of the Death Note to rid the world of evil. But when criminals begin dropping dead, the authorities send the legendary detective L to track down the killer. With L hot on his heels, will Light lose sight of his noble goal…or his life?

Rating: ★★★★☆

Part 1

Review:

I really enjoyed this series. It was so engaging and thought provoking. There was one part that bored me to tears and I kind of hated but other than that it was near perfect.

I’ve broken up my notes into parts because I read the giant 2400 bind up so it would be too long to do one post.

Hearing Light’s explanation for what he did makes me even more annoyed with the business executive plots. Light is so smart that he could figure out what he would do without his memories and what someone like Higuchi would do. That’s so awesome! Now why would I want to read 17 chapters full of these stupid business executives? There were way too many to care about or even remember their names. They weren’t as smart or cool or interesting as Light and L. Light and L figure out it’s the eight so quickly. They were pathetic antagonists.

“No matter what world, the god of that world creates the rules. You will be defeated by the fake rules I have created, and die for the sin of defying me.”—Page 1228

Did Light become crazier?

Ugh! Misa can’t remember L’s real name! I mean…I’m glad L isn’t dead but still.

“Ryuk: Sorry but… Misa: Huh? *Ryuk drops Misa* Ryuk: I’m male, I’m shy when it comes to girls.”—Page 1249

How weird.

“Even if she can’t remember the name…Misa will make the eye trade with Ryuk so she can help me…that trade will come in handy immediately!”—Page 1254

Jesus Christ, Light.

“So it was all part of his plan.”—Page 1257

Ryuk knows what a crazy SOB Light is.

“Light: The Kira case hasn’t been solved yet. I’m in no mood for love at the moment.”—Page 1264

Bit of a contradiction, Light. A while ago you said you fell in love with Misa.

Is everyone just sitting in absolute silence while Rem, L and Light are figuring this shit out?

WAIT WATARI! NO! HE WAS SUCH A BAD ASS!

NO NO NO L IS NOT DEAD! I SWEAR TO GOD!

20 days, 18 hours, 31 minutes and 30 seconds? Until what? L what did you plan?

Alright so looks like this Near kid is probably going to be a candidate for L and there’s this old guy who knows about the count down.

So now Light is Kira and L. What a strange turn of events.

“Ryuk: Then I can’t expect much more fun…”—Page 1316

Ryuk, we still have 1084 pages to go. I’m sure there will be plenty of fun!

“L is dead.”—Page 1321

No! I will stay in my bubble of denial FOREVER!

“January 10th 2005. Mary Kenwood, the second Kenwood daughter, dies in a motorcycle accident in Colorado, USA. April 7th, 2005. With his family at his side Thierry Morello succumbs to liver cancer in a hospital in Paris, France. Mary Kenwood and Thiery Morello, along with their alter egos, Wed and Aiber, are vanquished to the darkness.”—Page 1325

Okay then? Wait…did they die?

Holy shit, the business executives all die of heart attacks.

Alright, let’s see if Near can fill the L-shaped void in my heart.

Interesting so now the FBI, CIA and Near are going to try and track down Kira without L.

Stop. There’s a CIA agent called “Ratt”. Stop it.

Please tell me Light is using 4chan to kill people, they would be hilarious. Also, Light, might I introduce you to the concept of Fake News.

Ah, the NPA director has been kidnapped by a crazy chick.

“No matter what I have to do I will get it before Near…”—Page 1355

So we meet Mello, who at first I thought was a girl but is apparently a boy. And he grew up with Near in the orphanage and they were in competition to become the next L. Mello was always in Near’s shadow so now Mello is going to do anything to defeat Kira and Near. Which includes kidnapping and getting the Death Note that the Japanese police have.

So Watari ran this orphanage that was some sort of training facility for future L’s. Which means that Watari was some sort of father figure to L…which means my heart hurts.

This is actually a really interesting plot line. We have this weird sibling dynamic. It’s another cat and mouse game now that L is gone.

“Mello: I want Kira’s head and I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way. I’ll be number one.”—Page 1370

Huh, maybe training children to become these obsessive detectives is a bad thing.

It’s time for Near and Light to meet.

“L number 2, nice to meet you.”—Page 1413

Oh shit.

L M N, we need all the letters of the alphabet! Also, it’s a good thing that Light’s name also begins with an L.

“The original L gave his life and proved to the world that a mass murderer named Kira is lurking somewhere in Japan. He was even able to find out what Kira was using to do those killings. But even though you’ve taken over L’s place, you’ve done nothing. Not only that, I think Kira’s public approval has even increased because of you.”—Page 1478

Oh shit, Near is throwing shade!

Again, I think creating a school to create super genius detectives is probably not the greatest idea in the world.

“Touta Matsuda One of the men who work under me. But he’s completely useless.”—Page 1499

Aw, Matsuda, that’s so sweet.

Wow, Light got the President to play right into his trap.

“Near, I’ve pretended to be brainless but L is still the greatest detective in the world! And Mello, let me show you who is going to change the world with the Death Note—Kira!”—Page 1531

Light, you’re so crazy.

“I can do this…there are no disadvantages for me.”—Page 1542

What could possibly go wrong?

“Misa: Light, I’ve been a great help, haven’t I? Light: Yeah, I love you, Misa. Ryuk: Hyuk. Is that the face of someone saying ‘I love you’…?”—Page 1547

No it is not.

Well that plan was a complete disaster. You stupid cockroach shinigami (Sidoh). Although, I probably shouldn’t want Light’s plans to succeed.

Ugh, I feel so bad for Misa.

Light, you’ve corrupted Matsuda! He was kind of annoying but now…

Wait! Shit! Light’s dad is making the deal!

LIGHT’S DAD DIED!

Welp, Near figured out that L is Kira.

Now the former-VP-now-President of the US decided to turn over to Kira.

“…Then, Near, Mello, and L won’t be able to lead normal lives once they’re exposed to the world as infidels…”—Page 1683

Light, dear, you are L.

“If you’re scared, you don’t have to participate but please don’t leave the headquarters. I’m scared so I’m not going to go outside.”—Page 1689

Aw, poor Near.

Ah so Mello is with Hal.

Near offered to write Mello’s name.

Hey, shouldn’t this Xavier’s School for the Crazy have taught these kids how to act normal that way they could go outside without being an L suspect?

“Light: Yes, Near? Near: Sorry, I called the wrong number. Bip”—Page 1752

I love Near. Oh he was checking to see if it was L. That’s so smart.

“Light: Near, you must escape. Near: Look who’s talking, Kira.”—Page 1764

Oh snap.

It’s…raining money…Smart.

Aizawa is going to look into Light being Kira again. Hopefully he doesn’t die.

And now we have a new owner of the Death Note: Teru Mikami.

“Has Aizawa made his move? If he has, I shouldn’t try to pry into it too much. They’ll only get more suspicious of me if I do. Actually, it might be better to have them investigate as they please, and even check out Misa.”—Page (Too lazy to find the page number)

Fuck, Light knows.

I wonder if because Aizawa is a father that’ll effect his relationship with Near.

“No, the important part is ‘I’ll kill Kira, and then kill myself.’ Therefore Deputy Director Yagami and the Kira suspect are related.”—Pages 1820-1821

He’s so good. Oh shit, Near figured out that Light is the new L. Man, Near’s good. Light could never figure out L’s real identity but Near figured it out so quickly. Though, now that I think about it. It might have been in Rem’s Notebook.

I didn’t know Matt from Game Theory worked for Mello. The more you know.

Now we get to meet Mikami. Let’s see how crazy he is!

Huh, have we gotten this mug shot picture before for Misa and the business executive? We got one for Light and Ryuk.

So Teru was bullied. He is quite crazy.

Near…why do you have finger puppets?

Wow, it’s one of the girls who use to have a crush on Light. What a one in a million chance. Ah, but this inadvertently make things a little bit more difficult for Light. Man, this book is so brilliant sometimes.

Light, you are really shit at keeping your identity a secret. Mello and Near have both figured you out.

Back to Japan!

So Mikami is punishing the by-standards now. This is turning into an Seinfeld episode.

Takada, I need to remember that name.

Ide, they want to bonk! Matsuda knows people, he just doesn’t understand crime.

Light got into contact with Mikami and everything seems to be going according to plan for Light…unfortunately?

“I’ve never made travel arrangements myself. I want you to come back, and then we’ll go to Japan together.”—Page 1949

Aw, that’s so sad.

So battle between Light and Near has truly begun.

Damn, Hal Lidner has some balls.

Poor Misa.

“Once the victim’s name, cause of death and situation of death has been written down in the Death Note, this death will still take place even if that Death Note or the part of the Note in which it has been written is destroyed, for example, burned into ashes, before the state time.”—Page 2006

Doesn’t the Netflix movie completely throw out this rule?

MIKAMI ARE YOU NUTS? YOU JUST KILLED SOMEONE WITH THE DEATH NOTE IN PUBLIC!

“Matsuda: Ooh! Light’s in trouble now!”—Page 2031

…We are all Matsuda.

“Near: What this proves is that Light Yagami is a lady-killer.”—Page 2039

AY-OH!

Poor Aizawa.

So now Misa and Mogi have been kidnapped/taken into custody by Near. Ah, so this was Near’s plan to get someone to touch the Notebook.

Near is putting his plan into action I’m getting dangerously close to the end.

I’m assuming that Mello is going to show up at the last minute and completely ruin Near’s plans.

Mello’s kidnapped Takada!

And now Matt is dead. I hope Stephanie isn’t too sad about it.

Ah shit Takada is going to try and kill Mello. She, much like Hal, has some balls of titanium.

Aw shit Takada killed Mello. I wish he’d been more prominate in the book series. He was a cool headache for Light.

And now Light has killed Takada so he can destroy Mello’s body.

Near has a mask on.

And meeting has begun.

Nate River, there’s Near’s name.

“I’ve tampered with the Notebook. We managed to get it into our possession, and replaced the pages. The person behind the door…the one in charge of the actual killing, has been filling up one page every day, so I just calculated which page would correspond with today’s date, and replaced all the subsequent pages.”—Page 2212

Holy shit, really?

“Exactly as planned!”—Page 2214

FUCK!

“I ordered Mikami to use the fake Notebook outside on purpose to have your agent witness it in plain sight.”—Page Lazy

*sighs*

FUCK YEAH NEAR! YOU FUCKING DID IT! I’m so proud of you, kiddo.

“Matsuda: Light…Why…?”—Page Shit is Getting Real

Oh, Matsuda…

Man, Gevanni is good.

Oh god Mello scarified himself for Near.

“Mello always said he was going to be number one, and that he was going  to be better than me and L but I always knew that I would never be able to surpass L. it could be that I lack the action and he lacked the calm and even though we couldn’t surpass the one we admired on our own together we can stand with L together. Together we can surpass L.”—Pages 2262-2263

HELL YEAH!

Near called Light a murderer, hell yeah.

FUCK YEAH MATSUDA SHOT LIGHT!

Ryuk is writing Light’s name down in his Notebook.

Light Yagami is dead.

Near is eating chocolate.

I feel like if I were on this task force I’d retired after this.

Aw, Misa is the leader of a cult…how odd.

The bonus chapter was kind of funny.

[namisashimi]

369: ‘Suffering is always by my side.’

source. profile by danneergou (丹尼二狗) for pentaq. images by yan wendi (梁文迪) and yicun (一村).

translator. in a rare moment of free time, i had the chance to watch IG vs. TES in the LPL regional finals; there was something so quintessentially LPL and yet so captivating about a team of rookies taking on the reigning world champions and the chaos that ensued. pentaq has always written these complex, sympathetic and yet strangely bittersweet portraits of LPL players and their struggles in pursuit of a dream, and this one is no different. i hope you’ll enjoy this one.

369 made a motion like climbing a mountain. "I don't know. But I will always be climbing, and I will always be moving forward."

What does the LPL stage mean to a professional player? Only just eighteen, 369 has yet to find time to think about this. All he knows is that ever since he joined TOP's LPL team last November, his life has been like riding a bullet train. Those things he once dared not even imagine - one by one, they have become reality.

"One day, I will be a professional player," 369 once boasted to his classmates; at the time, he was still a student and his account 菜鸟 (t/n: 'noob') was only Gold. Many years later, when he found himself standing on the Demacia Cup stage for the first time, looking at the tide of people below him, letting the audience's cheers for their opponent IG crash over him, "If these people were cheering for us, wouldn't that be even better?"

To listen to those cheers, he has already given up much. He said goodbye to his best friend, took on more stress and frustration, and faced his own inner demons head-on. Throughout this process, suffering has been his constant companion.

"When you play professionally, in a hundred days, maybe ninety-nine of them will be losses. And only in an hour of that one remaining day will you taste success." Little P, a coach for the academy team who watched 369's journey from the LDL to the LPL, felt that this was a road every player must walk. "All kinds of negative feedback are entangled with a player's career. For many of them, even up until they retire, they will have no way to understand this."

To an outsider, he might already seem gifted with extraordinary luck - he only spent one season on the academy team before being promoted to the main team. In the spring split, he was already a starting player; they finished third in the regular season, fourth in playoffs, and earned the chance to represent LPL at Rift Rivals. At only eighteen, this boy already had a chance that could change his life - but he had no time to celebrate; he had to hurry to the next battlefield.

"If I think about it, I've lived eighteen years. All the previous years were plain and faint; it seems only this one has a spark of light."

one. giving up, holding on.

No matter what, 369 has always said what he thought - even if, in that moment, it felt like everyone else was standing against him.

This was how it seemed in July 2018, the first time Little P saw him. At the time, Little P was the assistant coach for TOP's main team. Once, he and the team visited their academy team KOF to do a review of one of KOF's games.

During their analysis, this kid who always had something to say came to his attention. "To be honest, his analysis of the game was correct, but whether the team should prioritize top lane or bot lane was a stylistic decision, not one with a right or wrong choice. They were not trying to solve a problem, but rather having a debate."

What Little P remembered most from that day was how 369 kept asking him, "P Bro, do you also think this is correct? Do you agree with this?" While he noticed his strong desire to win, Little P also felt that he "relied too much on what others thought of him."

A little while later, Little P was transferred from the main team to KOF, and thus became 369's in-game mentor. But the first to have noticed 369 was Guo Hao, the TOP manager who instigated this transfer.

In April 2018, even as the main team played against Snake in Chongqing, Guo Hao elected to go to the LDL student and watch KOF. Because some impressive plays caught his eye, this player who went by 369 came to his attention. "The impression he gave me was someone with meticulous mechanics, who had guts and didn't panic. Even when left with a sliver of health, he would still use his positioning to juke skills." At that time, Guo Hao thought - this kid might be it.

Back then, 369 had only just joined KOF. Born in 2001, he grew up in Henan with his grandmother and little sister. His family and childhood experiences made 369 more independent, yet also more vulnerable to social influences. In the third year of middle school, he found he couldn't keep up with his studies, so he wanted to go to a vocational school. He thought to himself, "This way, at least I'll have some skills to support myself with." Afterwards, he went into a four-year automobile repair program, which included a guaranteed job assignment after graduation.

Attending vocational school really just meant he was playing League of Legends in a new location; he "felt that [he] couldn't see any hope." If he had followed this path, perhaps in four years he really would've become an auto mechanic.

Once, another player added him as a friend and told him that if he changed his ID to a certain name and played every day, they would pay him 30RMB a day. 369 was delighted to hear that League of Legends could earn him money and pay for more of his netcafe fees. "I had always felt quite disappointed in myself growing up, but playing this game, I suddenly had a reason to feel proud." At that time, he was around Diamond on Ionia.

Before he joined KOF, 369 had been a part of two different academy teams. One was LGD; the other was VG. Both experiences ended with little gained. While he as at LGD, he felt that "the team's attitude was very negative at the time," and after losing to ME in Hero of Cities (t/n: qualification tournament for LDL), he "didn't want to play any more." As for the half year he spent at VG, he once again used the term "couldn't see any hope" to describe it.

Always unable to see hope, always choosing to leave, and always reluctantly returning - this summarized the beginning of 369's career. After leaving VG at the end of 2017, he suddenly realized that he had been on the road to becoming a professional player for a year and a half, yet he had nothing to show for it. He felt that in that time, he "hadn't worked hard enough, wasn't determined enough."

So when he joined KOF, he gave himself two objectives. The first was very difficult - in July, before his birthday, he would reach Challenger; the second was even more so - to make it to LPL. At the time, 369 had better teams to choose from, but KOF's then-manager told him, "As long as you have the strength, then you will have opportunities." In the end, he chose to remain with KOF.

When he joined the team in April, 369 was remarkably hard-working and self-disciplined. He would get up every day at eight or nine in the morning, and play until one or two the next day. "Every time I lost, I would start looking for my own mistakes instead of being stubborn." By June, 369 had successfully made his way to KR Challenger, accomplishing his first goal. After reaching Challenger, he didn't play at first for fear he'd drop back down, but under his coach's encouragement, he broke into the top 50.

As the 2018 LDL season began, 369 was in perfect form. Combined with good results in scrims, he was full of confidence.

On June 29, in their first match, KOF lost 0:2 to SHA. On July 1, KOF once again lost to ME. On July 14, even after adjusting their team, KOF once again lost 0:2 to VTG. What followed was only another string of losses. Only after a month had passed did KOF finally earn their first best-of-3 victory. In the fourteen games of the summer season, KOF only won three matches.

In their first loss, what left the greatest impression on their ADC Photic was how after they left the stage, 369 tore off his glasses and squatted on the ground, not saying a thing.

As the season progressed, the pain of losing grew greater and greater, and 369's solo queue rank dropped from Challenger back to Diamond I. Once again, 369 almost gave up. As the summer season grew to a close, 369 and Photic returned to the base after one of their games and went upstairs to their room. The lights were off, and in the abject darkness, 369 called out Photic's name and asked him what he should do. As Photic was momentarily stunned, he continued, saying that nothing would keep him going, and he wondered if he should just retire and do something else.

"Are you stupid? There must be something wrong with your head." That night, Photic sat 369 down and ruthlessly poured chicken soup into his soul.

In the end, the person who truly changed 369 was their manager, Guo Hao. On August 25, Guo Hao and the TOP team arrived ahead of time to prepare to face Snake in Chongqing. Before their match, the main team used the second floor of KOF's building to practice. Meanwhile, the academy team gathered on the first floor, and Guo Hao had a simple chat with them about their plans for the future.

Guo Hao's words were very direct. He said to the entire academy team, "If any of you want to play in LDL next season, if any of you just want this salary, or if any of you think you should receive a bonus just for doing well in LDL, then you are not suited to be a part of our team." Then, he pointed at the second floor, where the main team were practicing. "Your goal is to defeat them, to get them kicked. After defeating them, then defeat the people they couldn't defeat. If any of you don't have this goal, then talk to me. You can leave the team now."

As he said that, 369 was sitting in the spot closest to Guo Hao. When he finished, tears were already in 369's eyes. "Those words must've hit home with him. Guo Hao had said some things he had always believed, but never dared to say himself," Little P recollected about those events, which he was also present for. Seeing 369's strong reaction to his words, Guo Hao invited him out of the building to have a one-on-one chat. What left the strongest impression on Guo Hao was that the moment 369 left the building, he hit the ground and started to cry again.

"At the time, I asked him what was going on. He said that previously, everyone would always say, Bai Hao (t/n: short form of 369's name, Bai Jiahao), you play so well. Next season, you'll definitely be on the main team. They all thought he could make it, and he even had this hope. But throughout this entire split, he's performed exceptionally poorly, he hasn't been able to climb in soloq, he hasn't even been able to learn new champions. So he felt he already had no chance."

In that moment, Guo Hao saw this child in his most vulnerable moment. He thought to himself about how moments ago, this person had been in tears at his very words, and he felt like this attitude "couldn't be faked." So Guo Hao chose to say something to 369 which, in retrospect, he realized were quite extreme words.

"If in this academy team, even you cannot go to LPL, then no one can."

two. friends, partings.

In the middle of 2017, a Jiangxi youth who'd made it to Masters on Summoner's Rift received an invitation to try out at OMG's headquarters. His father, who worked far away in Zhejiang, was worried, so he accompanied his son to Shanghai. The first time he saw the way the esports club looked in real life, the youth thought, "So cool."

The two weeks of his tryout at OMG passed quickly. Apart from his regular ranked games, he played eight scrims, losing more than he won. On the final day, one of the staff members told him to return home and wait for further instructions. At the time, he didn't realize this was a polite way of rejecting him. After he went home, his father showed him a conversation with the team, where they suggested that perhaps he should finish high school first. That night, he lay on his bed sadly, thinking to himself - perhaps it was better to work hard and study instead of thinking about this.

In the end, he still didn't "come to his senses." In the following year, as his rank grew better and better, while studying he secretly prepared his resume behind his parents' backs and sent it to the various large esports organizations.

It was only in March 2018 that the boy finally got his chance - his resume came to the attention of team manager for KOF. His mother and grandmother were firmly against interrupting his studies, but in the end, they were convinced by his father. His father, who was still working in a distant location, told him over WeChat that since he had chosen this path, he must keep to it and not give up halfway.

At the end of March, this boy came from Jiangxi to Chongqing and thus, officially began his professional career. A few days after he arrived, a plump little guy showed up at the organization. His first impression of the newcomer was that he was "straightforward." Since he was a newcomer as well, he was a little shy, but the other boy was exceptionally enthusiastic and greeted everyone. Later on, the two of them would sit next to each other.

This youth was Photic, and this late-arriving little plump guy was 369. In the following days, the two would become each other's best friends.

from left to right - photic, guo hao, knight9, and 369.

"At school, friendship is commonplace, but for professional players who have entered society, it is far too precious. Some players only treat each other as colleagues, while others think of it as just playing together, so there's no way to really become friends." In Little P's eyes, the way Photic and 369's personalities complemented each other allowed them to become friends. "Professional play isn't just five people playing in a five-stack together; it's five brothers-in-arms living together. If under these circumstances, you cannot find a connection with people, then it must be very lonely."

Friendship between boys often begins with rivalry - comparing their scores, comparing their records, comparing even the time they woke up. Every time 369 made a particularly stellar play, he'd ask Photic, "Isn't that impressive?" Photic might agree, but he would always respond, "Anyone can do that as long as they have hands."

Of course, they were also companions. The summer of 2018, Chongqing was so hot that "even wearing t-shirts and shorts, it was still unbearable." Every day, after they finished their practice at 5:30PM, Photic and 369 would always go to the nearby store to buy cold refreshments. The trip wasn't particularly long, and so as they walked, they would talk about their games and their lives, and then with 3RMB ice creams hanging from their mouths, they would return to continue practicing. When they finished practicing at midnight, the two of them would walk back to their room together. Before they slept, they would chat a little more; as for what they talked about, it didn't even matter to them.

That season of the LDL, KOF didn't perform particularly well. For these newcomers to the professional scene, facing the stress of a losing streak, those 3RMB ice creams and their nighttime boasts became one of their few good memories.

On September 2, KOF finished their last match in Chongqing. Photic and 369's first LDL season clocked in at 3-11, second from last in their region. After the regular season, the organization gave the players some time off; the main team got two months while the academy team got one and a half.

Before their vacation, 369 asked Photic if he were going home. Photic said he would not - he wanted to use the break to practice a little more, play a little better. At the time, he had never been Challenger in KR solo queue, and he set that as his goal. When their vacation began, 369 returned to Henan, and Photic remained at the headquarters. "I felt that if I went back for these two months, then perhaps I might disappear entirely."

He didn't expect that a few days later, 369 would suddenly message him on WeChat and tell him that he was coming back. "At that time, I was really lost. After thinking hard at home for a few days, a few things suddenly became clear to me. I wanted to come back and do them immediately." After he rushed back to the gaming house overnight, 369 spent his vacation practicing with Photic. After waking up at noon, they would train into the early morning; they'd play a few other games and then sleep. The next day, they'd start it all over again. Since there was no housekeeper to cook for them, they ordered take-out every day.

Putting aside everything to focus on the game for a month was practically a formative experience for these two teenagers. During that time, Photic often snuck peeks at 369's rank, trying to judge what the other's skill was like in the end. "He would never peek at mine, because I didn't have as much LP as he did." After half a month, Photic was still a few hundred LP away from Challenger, while 369 had brought himself back from Diamond I to Challenger.

Since a few staff members were still working during the holiday, their coach Little P learned about what was going on. When the vacation ended and they were organizing the team, the manager Guo Hao received a message Little P sent him of 369's solo queue rank - 700LP Challenger. He looked at the attachment and replied to Little P: "How about we let him come up?"

In November 2018, 369 officially received a training invitation from the main team; he had finally accomplished the second goal he'd set when he joined KOF. The day he left, he woke up early to pack his bags, then boarded a plane from Chongqing to Shanghai. On the afternoon of that same day, Photic woke up and looked at the bunk below him. His friend's bed was still there, but the keyboard and mouse on the practice desk had vanished. In that moment, he truly knew that 369 had left.

A few days ago, 369 had told him that he would be going to the main team, but Photic had thought it a joke, that it was just a lie for himself. When he realized all of this was reality, he could not stop himself from crying in front of his good friend.

"I am very happy you can play there, but right now, I really cannot be happy."

three. pain, change.

For 369 to go the main team, Photic's inner thoughts were in turmoil.

On one hand, he felt forlorn and lonely; he missed having a friend to talk to every night before bed. On the other hand, when he saw 369's excellent performance in the 2018 NEST tournament, he felt that he "had to play better in order to meet with him again." According to coach Little P's observations, after 369 left, Photic became much more focused.

On the other side, after coming to Shanghai and becoming a part of the main team, 369 was now experiencing something completely different. When he first arrived at the gaming house, Guo Wei assigned 369 and midlaner Knight9 to the same room, hoping that 369 would pick up on Knight9's focus and determination to improve.

Soon after, the "placement test" arrived. When the team attended the end-of-year 2018 NEST and Demacia Cup, 369 suddenly discovered that the teammates surrounding him were much stronger than he'd had before. He practically "lay down and got carried," and without even knowing how, he put up a good scoreline.

A greater stage brought more fans and more attention, and 369 began to secretly use Weibo to upvote the comments saying he performed well. One thing led to another, and when Guo Hao found out about it, he practically laughed until he cried. Later, he and 369 talked, and the other said, a little embarrassed, "Hao Bro, I might be a little overconfident. If you see me being too proud of myself again, please tell me."

Since they were in contact with the main team, after 369 left, the academy coach Little P would often tell Photic, who was still at KOF, what was happening to his friend. In the 2019 spring season, Little P told Photic, "369 cries quite often there." Near playoffs, Little P told him, "Recently, 369 has gone mental boom."

"That kind of mental boom was the beginning of suffering," 369 reminisced. From before the spring playoffs, to playing IG there, to once again meeting IG in the summer split, to being benched at Rift Rivals, to finally being benched against LGD in the regular season - 369 traced such a path. "If I said that perhaps there were twenty things that caused me pain this year, then maybe seventeen of them were in this timeframe." Later, because he'd dwell on the mistakes he made because of his despondent mental state, he couldn't sleep at night; he'd go to bed at 2AM and perhaps only fall asleep at 4AM. "Useless." He used this kind of language to describe himself.

From when he officially joined the main team to after the spring season, 369 and manager Guo Hao had more time to talk. They often chatted whenever they had time, and once they got started, they could go on for a few hours. From his chats with 369, Guo Hao got the impression that this child was rather "lonely."

"This kind of 'loneliness' doesn't mean that others weren't treating him well, but rather that he - how to put it - that he didn't entirely consider himself part of the team." Guo Hao recalled that once when they were talking, he told him two lines from On Chao Cuo. (t/n: a mildly famous text by Song dynasty statesman Su Shi.) The first was, "From ancient times until now, all those who have accomplished great things had not only talent, but also an unbreakable will." The second was, "Those would would call themselves gentlemen, who seek extraordinary success, must not think too much of themselves." These two lines and their meanings were the principles Guo Hao wanted 369 to realize.

The academy coach Little P had similar thoughts. After getting to know him, he realized that when 369 made some decisions, he would sometimes unconsciously try to protect himself. "When he was in the LDL, there was a period of time when he dropped from Challenger to Diamond I. Then, he told me he didn't want to play, because he was afraid that he would show unfavorable results on stage."

From despondence to pain, and the ensuing decline of his condition - this all reflected in his scorelines. In the spring playoffs match against IG, 369 played two matches before being switched out. "It was as if the barrels had exploded."

At Rift Rivals, however, 369 faced one of LCK's best toplaners, Nuguri. He had the advantage in the laning phase but could not capitalize on it once teamfighting broke out. Nuguri was an opponent he had always wanted to surpass, but during the spring split, Guo Hao had used Nuguri as an example to bring up a question: if Nuguri were so good, then why was their other toplaner, Flame, given the chance to play and even win?

After playing DWG and finishing the day's matches, their head coach BSYY returned to the scrim room to decide who would play the next today. In that night's scrims, the toplane player was Moyu - and without scrims, there were no games to play.

To help the main team prepare for Rift Rivals, Little P was transferred from KOF to the frontlines in Seoul. The day 369 was benched, Little P sat with him and watched all the games. What he remembered most from that day was that once, 369 patted him on the shoulder, said "P Bro!" and then sighed deeply.

"Honestly, sometimes you can't blame the players. He made it this far by doing things this way, so if you want him to change right away, that's practically impossible. You have to slowly find that balance. I think through this process, he can replace some parts of himself that aren't so good, and thus become a more excellent person and learn what it means to truly be a team." Seeing how 369 sighed to himself, Little P didn't offer him too much comfort, but simply told him, "Don't worry. This experience will be very valuable. But next time, if there's another chance, you must take it."

After Rift Rivals, Little P went back to KOF to continue his work with the academy team, but he continued to observe 369's LPL games. In the following games in the summer split, when he saw 369 choose counterpicks and choose strategies that would not put undue stress on his teammates, he felt very pleased.

"People have to experience things to learn." 369 didn't regret what he went through to gain this experience. "Even if I don't regret what happened, it still feels like a pity. Because I didn't do well, we didn't go further. If I had played better, perhaps we had a chance to make it to the finals."

four. epilogue.

After the new year, TOP's academy team moved to Shanghai; they were now in the same district as the main team, only five minutes away. Starting from when they moved until now, 369 of the main team and Photic of the academy team have met seven or eight times. The two of them go out for dinner and watch movies; each time, it's always 369 who takes the initiative to invite Photic. "To players on the academy team, the main team is something almost sacred," coach Little P said.

Guo Hao still talks with 369 from time to time, but now he more often takes the role of listener. Since he was a little overly strict with 369 before and noticed he was starting to evade questions, Guo Hao chose to take a different approach and allow the other to speak more.

Back to 369 - the last time I saw him, he seemed very calm, especially when talking about those things he'd experienced this past year that he wasn't entirely satisfied with. "If you asked me how I felt a year ago, maybe I would've had a lot to say, but now, after going through so much, it almost seems like none of that has left a serious impression on him." To him, 2019 can best be described as 'full;' it's as if even before the wounds from the previous fight have healed or he had a chance to look back, he found himself thrust into yet another battlefield.

And so it goes for most professional players. As Little P put it, those are the "negative feedback loops that follow their entire career." "Some things never really leave you; they will always accompany you, but you must hope you will not be affected by them. So it all depends on if you have a way to face them, if you have a way to become friends with yourself."

Did 369 find that? Perhaps he did; perhaps he is still on the road to doing so. When asked how he sees the things he experienced, he said they were "very interesting." "It's like if you talk about something sad that happened to you during school now, you will feel like it's very interesting. That pain no longer seems as deep as it once was."

And when asked how he felt now, he made a motion like climbing a mountain. "I don't know. But I will always be climbing, and I will always be moving forward."

[yuki-d-raizel-blog]

Hero

Chapter 13/??

Relationship: Todoroki Shouto x Reader (Your/Name), (Full/Name)

Summit: It all begin at the Sports Festival when Shouto’s other half met Endevour by mistake. The student never thought to see his partner fight against his father just to show him that he is wrong. It started from that instant, Shouto’s new path started exactly from that moment thanks to his friends and his beloved one.

---

Even under the arena, screams of the people are audible, that’s incredible. The match is over ten minutes ago, and they’re still cheering? The Class A is waiting outside Recovery Girl’s office, how are (Y/N) and Shouto? All Might joins them after a while, but he’s still worried after his students told him the situation. During the silence, the old lady speaks inside the room.

<<What are you, Izuku in female version?>> she scolds you, well, that was foreseeable, <<I used my quirk again but it was risky, you know? How can you destroy your body like that? I thought you were more responsible! Really, kids these days!>>

<<I’m sorry…>> your voice sounds so tired, how are you?

<<You better be sorry! You were dead if I didn’t use my quirk! Think more of your actions next time!>>

Dead?! Your injuries were so bad?! Eh? Seriously?! Everyone stares at each other shocked.

<<I don’t want to be rude but, could you scold me without yelling so much? My head hurts…>> you laugh and speak again, <<And you will wake Shouto up, so please be quieter, I’m begging you. He needs rest.>>

<<You’re the one who need rest! Geez, this girl…>> after sighing, the heroine whispers, <<Your classmates are here, you think you can handle them?>>

<<Yes, I bet they are worried. Let them in please.>>

Everyone stands up immediately and waits for the heroine to reach the door. The handle is pushed down and slowly, the white light of the infirmary escapes from the room. The class enters slowly to not waking Todoroki and Bakugou up. Shouto has some bandages on his leg and arm, Bakugou is unhurt; but you... You are the new mummy of the class, patches and bandages everywhere, you have big dark circles under the eyes, your skin is so pale that you look like a ghost or something similar.

Given that no one has the courage to talk, All Might speaks first.

<<Young (Y/N), how are you feeling?>> he whispers, <<If you need rest, we can leave if you want.>>

<<I feel… dead.>> you reply smiling, <<I feel heavy as a mountain, my sight is still blurry from before->>

<<What?>> Izuku whispers surprised, <<You fought with a blurry sight?!>>

<<Yeah, it started when Bakugou hit me the first time. Maybe didn’t seems from outside, but that was a strong one. I was about to welcoming it, but when I felt becoming stronger, I used my quirk to block it.>>

<<You’re crazy (Y/N)…>> comments Kirishima, <<When we saw the blood in your head, we were scared to death!>>

<<Ah, that was when Shouto used the wave of ice.>> you laugh then writhe in pain, <<Ow, ow, damn it. I hope I had a quirk like yours, Eijiro. Make your body harder, that’s a luxury.>>

<<I lost against Bakugou too, you know?>> he says hoping to cheer you up, <<His explosions are too strong.>>

<<Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?>> Tokoyami walks forward and adds, <<If you used your white flames to defend yourself, Bakugou couldn’t hurt you like that. Why you didn’t do that?>>

<<Because she’s stupid!>> comments Recovery Girl sits on her chair, <<You were dying due to hemorrhages, not to mention your broken bones! If I weren’t here, you were dead before you could reach the hospital, there’s nothing to laugh or joke about!>>

<<Worth it.>> you whisper and the heroine hits you, <<Ow! Do you have the permission to hit patients?!>>

<<Worth it.>>

<<You are like my gran->> a phone on the table is buzzing, <<All Might-sensei, could you please hand me the phone?>> his big hands pick up the object and carefully give it to you, <<Oh no…>> the ID name is the last one you want to talk to right now, but the phone keeps buzzing.

<<Persistent… Who is it?>> whispers Tsuyu.

Reluctant, the girl picks up the call, <<H-hello…?>> she looks scared.

[Sweetie, you finally picked up! I had a heart attack when I saw you on the TV! Are you ok now?] a male voice.

<<Oh, it’s you grandpa.>> now she looks more relaxed, <<I thought was->> when a female scream reaches her ear, she jumps almost dropping the phone. The woman keeps yelling, so the student just hangs up and sighs more tired than she was before, <<She’s gonna end me…>>

<<Young (Y/N), I must go. Rest well, ok?>> the hero leaves after you thanked him for the visit and apologized for make him worried.  

<<You didn’t answer me, (Y/N).>> Fumikage doesn’t forget easily, <<If you don’t want to, I’m fine with it.>>

<<S-sorry, I’m a person who likes to keep secrets.>>

 ---

When the ring is replaced with a huge and fancy podium and all first years are in the arena again, the winners’ names are shouted by Present Mic and Midnight. Tokoyami gets on the third place and stays still under the stadium compliments and screams of encouragement. Shouto helps you to get on the second place, and stays by your side with a relaxed face. The first place stays empty.

<<(Y/N)…>> Todoroki calls you, <<Do you think my mom will be happy to see me?>>

A single look is enough to say that he is scared, <<Don’t worry, I’ll go with you. If you want, of course.>>

<<Then… In the weekend is fine? We don’t have school so, we can take it more easily.>>

<<I was ok even you would have said tomorrow.>> she goes a little closer and grabs his index finger with hers, <<I am here for you, no matter what happens, I’ll never leave your side until you say so.>>

<<Then you’ll be with me for a very long time.>> he holds the finger tighter, <<I don’t know what to do if you aren’t with me.>> he admits smiling a little.

Before Mic or Midnight could speak, the first place appears… Bakugou is yelling and pulling forward to free himself from all those chains that block him on a thick wall of concrete. He has even an iron muzzle…

<<Thank you for the waiting! Now, we’ll award the medals!>> the heroine speaks and everyone pain attention, <<The presentation of the medals of this year will, of course, be this man!>>

<<HA-HA-HA!>> All Might’s laugh echoes across the stadium, sending it into the chaos.

It was all perfect, until Midnight and All Might talked over each other and the number is ruined. When the awkward moment goes away, the top hero approaches Fumikage with the bronze medal.

<<Young Tokoyami, congratulations.>> while he puts the medal on the student’s neck, the woman announces that Iida should be together with Tokoyami, but he had a family issues, so he went home first, <<You are strong, you know?>>

<<I don’t deserve such praises.>> the student says with a strong tone, he’s hard with himself.

<<However…>> the hero hugs the adolescent and pats lightly his back, <<In order to fight well against different types, you must not rely only on your quirk.>> he takes a few steps backwards and looks proudly the kid, <<If you train your own strength more, then you’ll have more options when you fight!>>

<<Roger.>> he replied staring at his medal.

The living legend moves towards (Y/N). She steps forward and bows a bit with a big smile.

<<Young (Y/N), congratulations.>> he hugs her very gently, <<I don’t have words, you understand yourself better than anyone else. But let me know->> he breaks the hug and looks at you.

<<I know what you’re going to say.>> you predicted his phrases? <<Yes, I’ve lose on purpose. My goal wasn’t win…>> you look at Shouto and he looks back at you, <<I was feeling bad for someone who couldn’t win due to my wish, so I chose to follow the same fate after achieved my goal: help a dear person to find the right way and push him forward. It took me a while, but I did it.>>

<<Next time, don’t be so reckless. You were lucky today, young (Y/N).>> the hero takes another medal but you smile happily and he stops to stare at you.

<<A hero is not afraid to give his life, I don’t mind do this again.>>

<<Please don’t. You found a new goal, so follow it without risking your life too much.>>

<<Yes sir.>> the girl walks backwards and Shouto goes forward.

<<Young Todoroki, congratulations.>> All Might talks with a sweet tone, <<I assume there is a reason you did not use your left side on the final, right?>>

<<….>> Shouto looks back searching your eyes, but he finds a girl who strongly nods at him with brightest smile on the planet, <<There is still something that I must settle.>>

<<I won’t ask about the details.>> the hero hugs him like a parent would, <<I’m sure that you will be able to do what you need to do. I mean, you have a wonderful guardian angel by your side, stand proud.>>

<<Yes.>>

<<Now then, young Bakugou!>> he feels bad seeing a poor child chained like a monster, so he takes off the muzzle, <<You kept your vow on the inauguration! You did a wonderful good!>>

<<All Might…>> his husky voice gets the full attention of the hero, <<A first place like this…>> he roars, <<Isn’t worth anything, damn it!>> Katsuki yells angry again, <<The world can accept it, but I won’t! It’s garbage!!>>

“His face is priceless…” <<Then, take this medal as a wound and never forget about it.>>

<<I said I don’t wanna that piece of crap!!>> the student moves roughly so All Might can’t put the gold medal on him.

<<Now, now!>> the teacher puts the band on his nose and presses down, while Bakugou keeps cursing and screaming, <<Here!>>

After another awkward scene, everyone leaves while the students return to school just to be informed about a few things.

 ---

In the bus, you sleep deeply while Todoroki keeps caressing the back of your hand with his thump. He still can’t believe that you risked your life to save him. Does he worth it? You are so messed up that even Recovery Girl get on the bus and sits next to you for security reasons.

“There’s a feeling I can’t put a name to that aimlessly drifts about within me.” he thinks watching your face resting on his shoulder, “Happiness at greetings, infectious yawns, filling my line of sight before I know it… Tasteless things becoming delicious, the fun of being together… The radiance of the route back, curious casual clothing, the slight embarrassment of seeing her in my dreams… Time like these somehow, I feel so warm inside. If I feel so happy and safe next to (Y/N), how I could forget about her?”

The bus stops and Shouto waits until everyone get off to wake you up. Kirishima helps with bags while Shouto fully supports the weight of your body to help you walk. Inside, Aizawa congratulates with his students and informs them that the school would be closed for the next two days, so he recommends a huge amount of rest, do not be nervous about the heroes’ requests and he sends everyone at home. Walking down the corridors, you keep thinking why come all the way back to school just to say 3 things. They could say it in the arena and send you at home directly.

Recovery Girl made you a cup of tea that reduce the pain and it actually works since you walk by yourself now. Slowly, but you can do something that before you couldn’t. Midoriya, Uraraka, Kirishima and Shouto are walking with you towards the gates, when a manly voice calls your name. An old man is waiting outside the school.

<<(Y/N), oh my lord! Look at you!>> the man is almost crying seeing you, <<Are you ok, sweetie?>>

<<Grandpa?! What are you doing here?>> you’re so surprised to see him and noticing the confusion of your friends, you explain to them, <<My grandparents live overseas, they come to see me during holidays.>>

<<You live alone?!>> exclaims Kirishima, how you pay the rent, bills, food, you don’t have a job yet.

<<I live in my parents’ house and my grandparents always give me the money to pay costs.>> the girl faces the man and responds with a smile, <<I’m fine grandpa. Oh, they are my classmates.>>

<<Thank you so much to take care of my (Y/N).>> the man bows and then locks his eyes on Shouto, <<Oh, you must be Todoroki-kun. (Y/N) told us a lot about you in her letters->>

<<How dare you to leave me behind!>> a woman walks with a divided steel stick on her side, dressed in ancient Chinese clothes, <<You left me at the metro stop!>>

You choke on your tea when you see her, <<Why did you bring her too?! Are you crazy?>>

<<I will try to convince her to leave you alone for today.>> the man covers the group and speaks, <<I was too impatient to see (Y/N)… My bad.>>

<<I’ll deal with you later, where is my granddaughter?>> she sees you next to Shouto who puts an arm in front of you for safety reasons, <<Would you kindly tell me, what the fuck was that shit? Your fight was shameful! I thought you were stronger!>>

“Here we are…” before Shouto could kill her, you move first answering annoyed, <<You are just arrived and the first thing you say to me is this bullshit? I don’t have energy nor patience to waste today, so->>

<<What’s that attitude? I raised you!>> the woman stops by a few centimeters away from your face, <<Be more respectful!>>

<<Grandpa…>> a tick on your eye moves the man immediately, <<I don’t have much patience today, please.>>

<<Honey, she’s injured and tired.>> he says a bit scared, <<And there are her friends too, don’t be so rude.>>

<<Fine.>> the wife is scanning Midoriya, Uraraka, Kirishima and Shouto with a cold gaze.

<<Don’t harass my boyfriend and my friends, thanks.>> the tension between you and your grandma is so high, why?

<<Actually, (Y/N) became moody because my daughter wasn’t strong enough to deal with her husband.>> the man explains while the women are arguing and insulting each other, <<She did that for years, and I guess it become part of her personality. My daughter was quirkless, but she had a huge talent for music. She was such a gentle creature, for her was almost impossible to argue with her husband, so (Y/N) was her shield. And I don’t negate that my wife influenced her too… I mean, look at them.>>

<<…Excuse me sir, (Y/N)’s mother was quirkless?>> Uraraka asks, <<Then her powers are from her father?>>

<<Actually->>

<<Never mind!>> you turn your back to the woman who is upset by that gesture, <<You’re gonna stay in my place anyway. This ugly, old bitch is really a pain in the ass.>>

<<How did you call->>

<<(Y/N)!>> Aizawa steps out from the building, <<You forgot something! Come here for a second!>>

<<Hah, being so young and still so stupid! Where your excellent memory went? I wonder!>>

<<Honey!>> the man pulls her clothes and smiles at his granddaughter, <<Go dear, we will wait for you here.>>

While (Y/N) goes to Aizawa and talks to him, the old couple stays silent until….

<<You have different waves now.>> the wife speaks staring at Todoroki, <<You seem more like you.>>

<<Sorry…?>> the student doesn’t understand, <<Waves?>>

<<My family has fire users from ancient times and (Y/N) is one of us too.>> she continues, <<We can see what you call “aura”, but we call it “waves”; and we understand people feelings thanks to them. Your waves, right now, are more like your true self.>>

“Oh that’s why (Y/N) understood right away that Todoroki was angry at the first round of the tournament.” think Izuku and Kirishima, when Midoriya takes his notebook and with courage, asks at the old woman.

<<Excuse me.>> he shows the page dedicated to you, <<I have a few questions about (Y/N)’s quirk. May I?>>

<<Of course, young man.>>

<<Thank you very much.>> the boy begins, <<(Y/N) has a form that involves an unbreakable ice, but she didn’t use it when she could, do you know why?>>

<<Are you talking about the last fight, right?>> Midoriya nods, <<It’s complicated to explain, but I try my best to make it easier for you. Those flames aren’t made to defend; when they’re activated, (Y/N)’s body fuses with them.>>  

<<W-what?>>

<<That form, used in the way she did in the final, the flames penetrate deep in her flesh and freeze her bones to be linked with her and she can use their power more freely. Every form has a price to pay, as if she sins. The price to use Lust at full power is that her body become fragile like a glass, her bones can be broken with nothing. That’s why she trains hard every day to reinforce her body more and more.>>  

<<…..Why she did that then?>> this time is Shouto who asks the question, <<She could’ve die…>>

<<I taught her how to combine them to be more balanced in a battle. I bet no one noticed it, in the final match, (Y/N) went beyond her limits. She was using four forms at once: Lust, Greed, Sloth and Gluttony.>>

---Continue...

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 21.5, 22, 22.5, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, Last Chapter