#I need an internship too so maybe I should apply for one with the school-run news outlets

[e77y]

It’s almost a new school year and I’m moving to campus! You know what that means 😁 (time to send a billion emails to student organizations and ensembles and scholarship applications and set myself up for burnout in a few months ❤️)

[likecastle]

Ronance Femslash February - postmarked for January

Thank you again to @marbledswissroll for the prompt “postmarked for january.” I tweaked the wording a little because I couldn’t quite work it in as it was originally phrased, but hopefully it’s close enough!

I’m accepting Ronance prompts all month for Femslash February. I have a few more prompts in my inbox, but I’ve still need a few more to get me through the end of the month, so please send them my way! Anon asks are totally fine, and you’re welcome to send more than one prompt. Don’t be shy! You can find previous prompts I’ve filled here.

Robin is putting up a flyer for the marching band fundraiser when Nancy Wheeler walks into the post office, carrying a manila envelope so carefully it might as well be the Declaration of Independence. For a minute Robin thinks they’re both going to do what they usually do when they cross paths at school, and pretend they didn’t throw a metric ton of fireworks at a monster made of liquefied people last summer, but Nancy meets her eye with a tentative smile, and Robin realizes she must want an audience for this momentous occasion.

“College application?” Robin asks, and this conversation already feels like an uphill battle. She should have just pretended not to see Nancy, or faked amnesia, or something.

“Yeah,” Nancy says, with a little shrug that Robin’s sure is supposed to seem modest, but she can tell Nancy is pleased with herself.

“Got your heart set on someplace special?” she asks, because she knows Nancy wants her to ask.

“Emerson,” Nancy says, with more starry-eyed enthusiasm than she’s ever said her actual boyfriend’s name. “My mom and I did a bunch of campus visits in September, and I just fell in love. I sort of thought I’d go to NYU, maybe Northwestern as a backup, but after I sat in on a class at Emerson, I couldn’t imagine going anywhere else. And hopefully I can get an internship at the Globe, or—” She pauses, looking charmingly chagrinned, though Robin notices that her hands are clenched tight around the corners of the envelope. “Sorry, I’m rambling.” She gives another one of those sweetly self-effacing shrugs. “Are you . . . applying anywhere?”

Robin tries not to read too much into the question, because if she did, she’d have to hear the implication that Nancy isn’t sure if Robin’s cut out for college, despite the fact that they have AP English and French Club and Trig together. Or maybe she just doesn’t think Robin’s family can afford to send her to school—which is a lot closer to the truth. She’ll be holding her breath about scholarships until April. “Just IU,” she says. “But not early decision, so the application doesn’t have to be postmarked til January.”

Nancy’s eyes widen, and if Robin didn’t know better, she’d say Nancy looks worried on her behalf. “You don’t think you should apply to a couple more schools, just in case? Not,” she adds quickly, “that I think you won’t get in, it’s just . . .”

Robin shrugs, trying for a carelessness she doesn’t really feel. “If I don’t get in, I’ll just use the money I’ve been saving for tuition on a trip across Europe. Just, you know, stay in hostels and sleep on people’s couches until my funds run out. I mean, I might do that even if I do get in.”

“Oh,” Nancy says, and her cheeks, Robin thinks, are faintly pink—from shock at Robin’s cavalier attitude, no doubt. She expects to get another little lecture about responsible choices, but what Nancy says is, “That, um . . . sounds nice.”

“Who knows,” Robin adds with a grin, “maybe I’ll bring Steve with me to be my chauffeur. Oh my god, he’d get so pissy about European traffic, don’t you think?”

“Right.” Nancy’s expression is tight, and Robin realizes too late that she’s crossed some line she shouldn’t have. “Well, I should—get this in the mail.” Nancy gestures toward the counter with the envelope, which is significantly bent at the edges now. “I’ll, um—good luck. With your application.”

“You, too,” Robin says, but Nancy is already turning away.

Robin tries to imagine it—Nancy walking with an armful of books across some perfectly-groomed campus green. Robin’s never been to Boston—never been anywhere, really—but she imagines brick buildings covered with ivy, students with sweaters tied over their shoulders talking about spending their summer vacation at Martha’s Vineyard, wherever that is. It doesn’t fill her with jealousy, exactly. It’s not what she wants for herself, but she does envy Nancy that her future seems so clear. She’s a star student applying early decision to the school of her dreams, and Robin wonders what it must feel like to be sure that she’ll get in, that she’ll be able to afford it, that she’ll get everything she wants.

[inkofamethyst]

July 26, 2023

Today I finished moving out of my apartment. Also my last day in a classroom in my undergraduate uni. The apartment thing actually feels weird. That room.. I mean it never quite felt like home, exactly. But it was my safe space on campus. For two years it was mine. And now it's not.

I.. I think there's a good chance I may stretch myself a little thin during my phd. Like, I discovered this thing at my uni where I could essentially get a minor alongside my Big Degree. And they have lots of really cool, interesting options (classics! medieval! archaeology! so many others!!) which I would totally consider if I was an undergrad but I'm getting close to the point where my luck may start to run out so it's probably a good idea for me to go for something more applied, right? I looked at compsci because that's the big button topic right now, but they also have data science which seems to be a bit more social-sciencey in its approach which I vibe with, and it could/would be good additional training for just like, ~being a scientist~ generally. But it's like,,,, several extra courses (five) which I mean yeah I could complete it slowly, one or two at a time, over the course of the years following my first two, but I just don't know if it'd be a good idea. If it'd be too much of a distraction from the Big Degree. And then on top of that I was already considering doing a brief internship or two. And then maybe (though this idea is significantly less well-formed) doing an exchange program one term through the program my uni offers, and that's not even mentioning all the cool workshops they have going on all the time that I want to take part in,,,,,, it's just that, I mean sort of like when I entered undergrad I'm seeing all of the offerings and want to take advantage of it all. It's kind of a once-in-a-lifetime thing, but I do actually want to get through it. Healthily.

Anyway I haven't mentioned any of this to my advisor lol. Can't show too much excitement too early. Just an appropriate, adult amount (whatever that means).

I think the important thing to remember will be that all the extras are nice, but my eyes need to stay on the prize.

Over the past several years, I've pretty successfully (and, perhaps, quite dramatically) limited my firsthand/fast fashion pieces, partly due to having a better grip on my spending habits (now that I'm spending my money) and partly due to moral convictions. However, I've recently come to recognize that there are several pieces in my wardrobe that, while looking "pretty good" for being secondhand, may not be particularly becoming for a person who looks like me and who is entering the grad school environment. My mother is pushing me to get rid of some of those items (as well as other fast fashion pieces that I've owned since high school), and I somewhat begrudgingly agree. She's also pushing me to look for suitable replacements, mostly firsthand, mostly fast fashion. The only way I can honestly feel comfortable reverting a little bit is by recognizing the fact that I genuinely attempt to take good, long-term care of my clothes. So even if I buy something at Old Navy or Target or TJMaxx, there's a decent chance it'll last me through the next six years or more, especially if they're basics.

My mom and I did get into a disagreement (it was silly and out of love but we still disagreed) about my wardrobe recently though. She complains that I don't have any color among by blacks and browns and creams. This is factually incorrect, and I reminded her that I've got greens and am constantly on the lookout for more. She told me that my hunter (and forest and sage) greens didn't count because they were muted. I told her she was being picky. I also told her that I would be receptive to adding lilac. She said I should be more open than just that. But I couldn't explain at the moment that I'm trying to build a wardrobe that is mostly modular so that I can add in whatever colors I want and not have to worry about whether I have anything to wear with them. I'll already have several potential outfits with some random piece I get on a whim one day. Anyway I needed to buy new cases for my devices and decided to get them all in lilac out of spite (admittedly, the black/gray theme I did four years ago was, perhaps, a tad boring and uninspired, but now they're dreadfully cute (I would've gone with green, but my sister is also going through a green phase, and we've already been through a period of us having the same phone and case, plus I don't think commitment to any ~~~aesthetic~~~ has to be all that deep)) but my mom says that doesn't count because they're not wearable. She also said (again) that I dress like an old maid and I had to remind her that spinsters were women who, historically, made their own money and choices for themselves, so I'm not particularly ashamed to be associated with them.

Today I'm thankful that my Enterprise-D came in good condition!!! I haven't taken it out of the box yet, but it (and its stand) appear to be in the original, unwrapped packaging. Just lovely. I also finished off a gift card by grabbing a card game and some posters, one space-based and one botanical, both vintage-looking, so decor is coming along.

I don't really care to tell most people where I'm going for graduate school. It sets a lot of expectations that I feel like I'm not always able to live up to. So when they ask "well what's next" I say "oh just grad school" and then only open up if they ask for specifics. But today, an older Black woman asked for specifics and I told her and she seemed so excited for me. I was a little bashful, but it felt good. There was a.. a unity in that interaction, something we didn't have to say aloud but it was there. Some people seem proud of me in almost a selfish way, I feel like. And that feels.. not good. But today's interaction was different in a good way. I only just met her today, but I hope I can make her proud.

[kerie-prince]

the intern

Peter Parker x Reader (college au)

requested: (anon) plz plz plz give me some college aged, super powerful ( think stark ceo powerful ) peter parker shit. idc what the rest of the story is about, i just need a brooding, smoldering, suit wearing, extremely expensive, college aged spiderman. plz and thank you!!!!

warnings: language

summary: When you start a new internship at Stark Industries, you're not only surprised to find Peter working as your boss, but that he's not the shy neighborhood boy you grew up with

a/n: this doesn't follow canon so for this imagine, hammer industries is just a rival company and the snap never happened lol also i don't know anything more than operating a phone so don't expect me to write sciencey, techy stuff lmao

(gif source)

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you were running across the road to jump into a cab that was available. Your phone hadn't been charging all night as you thought it had which caused you to wake up forty-five minutes before the start of the interview. You need this internship before you graduate from Empire State and get your degree in robotics.

On the way there, you nearly got car sick as the driver took sharp turns and nearly ran past intersections seconds before they became red. Once in front of Hammer Industries, your heels clicked loudly as you ran inside the tall building. You checked in with the front desk and took the elevator up to the 10th floor.

Just as you arrived, Justin Hammer was calling your name. “I'm right here!” you nearly tripped on your heels and your breaths were short.

“I've called your name three times, do you understand what that makes you look like, correct?” Justin stood unphased as you stood up straight and tried to steady your breath. “All these people are on time. Some of these folks have been here for hours, even.”

“Yes, sir. I’m so sorry–”

“Shame, I really liked your resume and your report on the expansion of nano-technology. Try again next year, maybe.” Justin started to call out the next participant and when she got up you stepped in front of her, “Please Mr. Hammer, I need this internship or I can't graduate.”

The people in the waiting room had their eyes on the two of you, tension so thick that it was almost hard to breathe. “Then maybe you should have come on time,” he pushed you aside to let the next person in to interview. You quickly ran back out and spoke to no one all the way home. Your eyes and cheeks were aching as you held in the tears during your Uber ride. The driver wanted to ask if you were okay, but if you were to break down in his car he’d probably be stuck having to listen to what happened and if he was honest with himself, he didn't actually care.

Once you got to your apartment, you made a straight line to the kitchen. “Hey, how’d the interview go?” MJ, your roommate, asked while still looking at her computer. You reached into the freezer for your emergency ice cream pint, snatched a spoon and walked into your room without saying anything. “That bad, I guess,” MJ said to herself.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

You sat with MJ and Ned in the cafeteria, but had not touched any of the food on your plate. Your head was laid on the steel table and you just continuously groaned. “I’m a failure,” you whined.

“No, what you are is fucking dumb,” MJ commented as she ate.

“Thanks, Michelle, that makes me feel so much better,” you looked up to glare at her before laying her head back down. Ned felt bad that his friend was in despair, “How come you didn't ask Peter for help?”

“Huh?” you lifted your head back up some of your hair falling onto your face.

“Yeah, Peter already works at Stark Industries, why didn't you just ask him to get you in? You could even skip the internship altogether and be in full time,” Ned suggested. You gave it some thought, but something about it didn't sound right.

“No, I don't want to bother Peter. I don’t want him to think that I’m only calling him for a job,” you sighed. Ned texted Peter anyways. Unexpectedly, Peter texted him back immediately.

“He says it’s fine,” Ned showed you his phone to read the text. ‘Yeah man, tell her to come in tomorrow and Ms. Potts will interview her’

You let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding and pulled out your phone.

‘Thank you so much for helping me out’

(…)

‘No problem, anything for a friend’

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

The Stark Industries building was huge. It almost looked taller than the Empire State Building, and maybe it actually was. Your legs were shaking as you stared up at it. “Here goes nothing,” you assured yourself.

The lobby was bustling with people; workers walking around, a group of kids that seemed to be here on a field trip, and some teens taking pictures in front of one of Mr. Stark's Iron Man suits.

The trip up to the 17th floor was crowded with people as more and more entered in every passing floor. You had to squeeze yourself out and accidentally stepped on someone’s foot in the process.

Looking around, your jaw dropped. It was an open laboratory with groups of people putting together small robots, flying drones, and people laughing and talking. It was such a fun and cool looking environment, you wondered why you didn't just apply here in the first place.

Pepper Potts spotted you walking around and approached you with a tap on your shoulder. “Hi, I’m Pepper. You must be Y/N,” she reached her hand out to shake yours which you accepted. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Peter’s told me a lot about you. Come, follow me,” Pepper’s office had glass walls and a view of New York from behind her desk. You weren't particularly fond of heights, but even you would love to have an office view like that. Pepper gestured to the chair in front of her as she smoothed her dress to sit in hers. “So, I see here that you had an interview at Hammer’s. Can I ask why you chose them?” You didn't even know how they got that information. You hadn't seen or spoken to Peter in quite a while, so how Pepper knew that was beyond you. You sat there with your lips moving to say something but nothing was coming out.

Pepper seemed to have caught on what you were thinking and elaborated, “Before I do any interviewing, I do full background checks on everyone.” She had a gentle smile which made you feel better. You thought she would scold you or something considering the question did more than catch you off guard.

“My mother used to work there for a long time and I figured that I would follow,” you explained. Pepper nodded her head and wrote some notes down. She looked onto her computer and looked at everything there was about you. “Well, I see here that you have exceptional grades. 4.7 GPA since you started school and your paper on nano-technology has gotten much praise. I think even Tony read it.” No way. The Tony Stark read my paper? “So tell me, do you see yourself working here at Stark Industries?”

You looked outside and watched everyone in the open lab again. “Yes.”

“Then that’s all I need to hear. We’d love to have you here,” she reached over to shake your hand. You looked at her surprised and hesitantly shook hers. “Welcome to the team, Y/N.”

“Thank you so much!” You cupped her hand with both of yours and shook it a little too quickly, but she didn't seem to mind. You were ecstatic to start your path to your career, and at a dream place at that.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

Your alarm rang at the time you set it to, but there was no need for it. You couldn't sleep all night. Today is your first day of your internship and you were feeling so many things at once. Excited, nervous, happy, scared…

You tried to restrain yourself to a light breakfast, but MJ’s pancakes were to die for that you ate two whole stacks. You looked through your closet just about fifteen times; you had already picked an outfit the following night with the help of MJ, but when you put it back on, you hated it. It sucked for your roommate seeing as she had to sit through you changing from eight other outfits.

You tried to picture the lab again to see how other people dressed for a better idea to base it on your outfit choice. From what you remember, it was pretty casual, so that’s what you stuck to.

You were given your pass the day you were hired, so you had no issue walking inside. The elevator was just as packed as it was last time, but you were more composed so there were no toes being stepped on this time. You weren't exactly sure as to where you had to go, so you looked around to see if there were other interns to ask where to start.

“Y/N!” Peter’s voice surprised you from behind. Your shoulders jumped a bit, but relaxed at the view of his face. His face… you actually hadn't seen him for quite a while. Months, maybe. His jawline was more defined, and his once floppy hair was styled neatly. You tried to not look him up and down, but the temptation was definitely there. And the other thing, his voice was deeper than you last remembered. Is this really Peter Parker? “Hey, Peter.”

He gave you a hug that nearly made you lose breath. He was stronger than you remembered. A memory flashed back to when you were in junior high; you, Ned and Peter were hanging around the local park and you beat Peter on rounds on the monkey bars. He gave up after a couple bars, but you went back and forth a couple times. ‘Show off.’ But now, he had muscles that the shirt he was wearing hugged his biceps.

The hug was quick, and you had to pretend that he didn't just squeeze some life out of you. “Do you work on this floor?”

“Yeah, you’re actually assigned to work with my team. Come, I’ll show you around.” He started walking and you noticed how his posture changed. Damn, I know it hasn't been this long since I've seen him. Why does he look so different? He was wearing trousers. Trousers? Peter hates trousers. But his ass is looking great–

“Hey guys, this is Y/N. She’s going to be working with us as an intern. And I'll say this beforehand, no she's not going to be taking coffee or lunch orders,” Peter introduced you. There were various aged people in this group. Some were your age, and one person looked to have been in his thirties. Peter is in charge of this group? They all said ‘hi’ to you and went around introducing themselves.

Once that was finished, Peter pulled a chair for you on the table. “You’ll take notes for me while I give this presentation,” he whispered to you before walking in front of the table and started writing on the clear glass board.

He was talking quickly and didn't stumble over his words like he used to. Everyone was listening to him attentively and you jotted notes down as quickly as you could. Every now and then, you would steal glimpses of him and feel a sort of… well you felt something. Amazement? Inspiration? Adoration?

No doubt was Peter one of the smartest people you've ever met and here he was leading his own team and making potential products for Stark Industries at such a young age. Seeing him at work was so… it was indescribable to you but all you could think of was how different he is now. In a good way, of course.

Peter Parker has been your friend for years and to see him change from a bumbling, shy, adorable nerd into a confident, intelligent working man attracted you.

When you got home, you thought a lot about your first day. Being an intern at Stark Industries was really fun, so far. You weren't expected to do silly things like get coffee or lunch for everyone or pick up someone’s dry cleaning. You actually learned something and even had your opinions heard on some of the things that Peter suggested for his team’s upcoming product presentation.

If this is what it's like to be an intern, you couldn't imagine what it would be like working full time.

“How'd it go?” MJ stuck her head in your room. “It was fun. I'm working with Peter,” you explained your day to her.

“Cool,” was the last thing she said before she went to her own room for the night.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

In the past few months, your internship at Stark’s has been going swimmingly. Everyone's been so nice, and the work is so fascinating. You've gotten closer with Peter and along the way, he felt like he was more than a friend and boss to you.

Currently, everyone was getting ready for their final presentations for the upcoming annual Stark Industries Convention. It was going to be Peter’s first year presenting his own project with his team and you were so excited to be a part of it.

The time you’ve spent with Peter was really fun. He was a good mentor and a great friend. The only thing was that you couldn't help but look at him a little too long, and you’ve found yourself thinking about him during your classes or doing your homework. The shy boy from Midtown High was no more, replaced– no, grown into the Peter you know now. But you pushed all feelings aside to focus on your next thesis paper and mock-up of the handout brochures of Peter’s project.

Sometimes, you didn't even feel like an intern as Peter would ask for any ideas you had to make the project better and even let you help with assembly. He stayed true to his words and you’ve never once had to run for coffee or things like that. There’d be times when you would study some of the little parts under a magnifying glass and he’d come up slightly behind you and explain about some of the bits on the working table.

And every time he did that, your breath would be stuck in your throat and you’d have to remind yourself that this was just Peter helping you out and you’re just learning. But it was normal to want more every now and then… right?

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

The convention was just a few days away and you had trouble finding something to wear. These events were usually black tie events, but did that mean the presenting teams as well? Wouldn't that be uncomfortable?

One of the guys on your team, Richie, sat with you during lunch and talked about how he was probably going to wear the same suit as always. Not because he couldn't afford a new suit, but he was just a simple person and he only wears it once a year for the conventions and that’s all, so it’s still in mint condition.

The girls on your team and some from others were going dress shopping the day before and invited you to join. You were excited mainly because now you don't have to bother MJ for it.

Speaking of MJ, you were going to ask her to come with you. Pepper sent out the electronic invitations to everyone in the company and authorized plus ones to even interns. She’s never been to one – for reasons you were still confused about – but you wanted your best friend to be there for you. And if not MJ, then you bet Ned would still come with you. Wait, what if he’s going with Peter?

On cue, Peter had sat in the chair next to yours in the small break room, “Hey, Y/N.”

“Oh, hey Pete. You excited for Saturday?” Peter quietly stirred his coffee and gave you a small smile, “Uh, yeah. I’m nervous, but I’ve worked really hard on this. And everyone, too. Including you.”

You slightly blushed. I didn't do all that much you thought. You two just sat there taking small sips from the hot, bitter beverage.

“So… I wanted to ask you something,” Peter started.

“Mhm?” The coffee nearly slipped past your lips. You quickly grabbed a napkin to lightly dab some of it off of your lips.

“Well, as you know, we can bring anyone with us to the convention,” he trailed off.

“Yes?” Is he going to…

“And I wanted to know if you were bringing MJ with you.” Oh. You nodded your head and thought you hid your disappointment well but without knowing, Peter actually caught it for a split second. “Good. You can come with me,” he smiled and stood up.

You were in awe; without effort, Peter just asked you to be his date for Saturday.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

“Dude, how are you not ready yet? He’s gonna be here any minute,” MJ sat at her computer per usual working. Your music was too loud for her taste playing from your shared bathroom. Peter said he would pick you up at 7, and it was currently 6:50.

You had put on and removed your make-up at least five times. Something was always wrong; one of the wings would either be thicker than the other, the blush would be the wrong shade, or the lipliner kept going out of place. But, alas, you finally nailed it.

Your hair was styled half up with elegant curls and braids. In between some braids were little bits of baby’s breath flowers. Most likely, you were going to have a hard time taking those out but they looked cute and it was too late to take them out.

Your dress was right above your knee and flowed comfortably so you wouldn't have a hard time walking. It was a neutral taupe color and had a V-line that ended just above cleavage and hugged the curve of your waist. You paired it with simple black heels and a small, white handbag.

“He’s here,” MJ informed you.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath, “what do you think?” You spun around and held your arms out. “You look really pretty. Now go get ‘em. I’ll watch it on the live stream.” She gave you a lazy thumbs up and resumed her work.

Outside was Peter in an all-black apparel. His dress shirt had only one button undone, and he had a loose blazer that accentuated the dip of his shoulders. He stood against the limo with his hands at his sides. God, he’s gonna be the death of me.

When he caught sight of you, he had a flirtatious smirk on his lips and held out for your hand. “Peter, where’d this limo come from?”

“Mr. Stark set it up for me,” he stated like it was no big deal. Must be nice being his favorite. He held the door for you to climb in and closed the door behind him. “We’re ready, Happy,” he told the driver. Happy rolled his eyes, closed the window and drove off.

The convention was off to a great start; Tony Stark came in with his suit as he always loved to do and started introductions before everyone else scattered around to look at the projects of the many departments in his company. Some groups of certain departments had large stages, some had small stands, like Peter’s.

There were still large crowds coming to see the smaller presentations, and everyone seemed to be fascinated with Peter's. You stood on the side as his team operated the machine and Peter spoke. He looked confident and it was mesmerizing to watch him.

After the night was over, all employee’s and some guests were brought back to headquarters for the after party. You walked around with Peter and had flutters in your heart every time he held the small of your back. The most exciting part of the night was meeting Tony Stark in person. He greeted Peter warmly, and then his eyes landed on you, “Peter, who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Y/N. She’s a friend of mine,” he gestured for you. You shook Tony’s hand and stood starstruck. “The one you don’t shut up about?” Pepper hit his shoulder and laughed nervously.

“Wait, I’ve heard about you. Buddy of mine works at Empire State and he showed me your paper, it was really good.” You were still shocked that he had even read it and here he was talking to you about it. You went back and forth talking about nano-technology.

On the way home, you and Peter talked and laughed about things you told him as you caught him up to what was happening on campus when he couldn't be there. It was a really fun night, and Peter was more noticeably relaxed now that the hard part was over. “Alright, home sweet home,” Happy announced through the window.

“Well, that’s me,” you smiled sadly, not wanting the night to end. You reached to open the door but Peter climbed out from his side. He walked around to open your door and just like he did earlier, held his hand out for you to grab and assist you out the limo. What was different this time was that he kept his hand in yours as he walked you to the door of the apartments. “I had a great time with you tonight,” Peter confessed.

“Me too,” your voice was soft and low for only him to hear. Peter’s eyes switched from looking into yours to your lips before he grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you. The kiss was needy, passionate, but had a certain gentleness to it. Once he felt you kiss him back with the same fervor, he deepened the kiss and brought one hand to pull your waist closer to him.

You pulled apart to regain your breath and looked to admire his swollen lips and he copied the same notion. He leaned in to give you a gentle kiss and pulled away, “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Peter.” Your cheeks were flushed and your face was warm. You watched him as he left and ran inside. Upstairs in your apartment, you found MJ and Ned sitting on the couch with a bag of chips in each of their hands.

“Good night?” Ned asked. You just nodded and walked slowly to your room.

“We saw the whole thing, by the way,” MJ said nonchalantly. You looked back to glare at your best friends, Ned smiling innocently at you and MJ keeping her straight face.

You changed into your pajamas and laid on your bed on your back, looking up at the ceiling. You couldn't wait to go back to work on Monday.

—

requests open!

[h34rtizuku]

𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔶

i hate angst without happy endings, but i’m also self-destructive. therapy is expensive, but ripping your own heart out and bearing your insecurities into a full-fledged story for you and others to read? free.

warnings : angst without a happy ending, insecurities, jealousy, mayhaps toxic behavior?? idk if ur looking for a good time, this isn’t for you bestie <3 also i might misspell uraraka’s name wrong a few times, i’ll fix them later :*

being quirkless had its advantages. with such a small number of us being born without powers, it left a lot of the mundane jobs open.

which is why, as soon as pro-hero deku opened his agency, i came to him with the request to be his assistant.

on the daily, he had people coming up to him asking for internships or to be his sidekick. but he never had anyone ask to be his assistant.

being the number one hero often meant that every day things, things one may take for granted or deem insignificant became just another list of things on the busy man’s to-do list.

therefore the appeal of having someone file his paper work and run to get him coffee in the morning was great enough to hire me.

and i was glad he did.

this is what i have been working for since i was a first year in high school. after watching the freckled boy break limb after limb to defeat his opponent.

yeah, i saw it as irresponsible and stupid that he had to break his own body to save others. but i was willing to overlook it.

my one goal during my remaining years of high school and up to college was that wherever that little green haired boy went, i would follow.

and that reigned true as his assistant. i would shuffle after him like a duckling following it’s mother, wherever he needed me.

if he needed me in a briefing to take notes for him, i was there. if he needed me to put in overtime to help him file the last minute paperwork, i was there. if he wanted a particular pastry from a specific bakery half way across town, i was there.

izuku was never mean, or demanding. always thanking me profusely for anything i ever did for him. leaving me to remind him that this was my job, and any way to make his life easier was good enough for me.

but maybe i should have held onto those blushed cheeks and crinkled eyes as he thanked me for the coffee that he didn’t even know he needed, for a just a little bit longer.

you know how a child will open a new toy on christmas and it quickly becomes their new favorite toy? playing with it non-stop, taking it wherever they go. until one day, they grow bored of it and never touch it again as it grows dusty at the bottom of their toy bin.

i know izuku wasn’t doing it on purpose, he didn’t have an intentionally mean bone in his body. i guess you could say, some other toys came around and took his attention away.

and that toy, was a particularly difficult mission in collaboration with uravity’s agency.

the two spent long hours cooped in his office as they went over notes, plans, intel, etc. until the conversation melted into talk about the old days and the wonderful memories they had together in high school.

i went to work the following days with absolutely no energy to handle whatever would be thrown at me. i hadn’t been able to get much sleep, as when i closed my eyes the only thing i could see was the look in his eyes when he saw her.

my patience was already thin given the events of the most recent week, but when the printer started malfunctioning leaving me unable to fax the papers izuku wanted me send, you could say that was the first domino.

i swatted and kicked and pressed any button on the stupid machine. telling myself i was merely trying to get to stupid thing to work, but deep down i knew that the printer was just my temporary punching bag. an outlet to unleash my anger and emotions onto something instead of letting them fester inside me.

so when one of izuku’s sidekicks came by, giving a snarky comment about my behavior, i was able to brush it off with a roll of my eyes and an equally snippy comment back.

but as the hunk of plastic remained steady in its plan to ruin my day, the lack of sleep and lingering resentment started to bubble within me once more.

i heard footsteps behind me and a joking voice say, “having a bit of trouble are we?”

if it weren’t for the white hot anger buzzing in my ears i may have been able to identify the voice before i lashed out on them. but we already established this was not my day.

so as my hands moved to clutch the machine below me, most likely to restrain my abuse to merely verbal instead of physical. i spit out, “listen i’m fucking trying okay? so how about you get off my ass and do something useful.”

i turned around to face who i thought would be another sidekick sent to push my buttons. but i instead came face-to-face with the green haired man himself.

eyes blown wide, mouth agape in shock, a light blush dusted under his freckles as he fought to handle the situation the best way he could.

but i beat him to it with a deep bow and an endless flow of apologies, opting to only blame my anger on the malfunctioning piece of junk behind me and not the several other reasons i was plotting murder in my head.

with a gentle smile and a soft chuckle he placed his hand to the back of his head, rubbing at the baby jade hairs of his undercut. “i see. bad days happen to the best of us.” he replied, his voice like honey.

i became drunk on the minor interaction he was giving me, bringing me back to the beginning days at this job where we would spend late nights trying to keep each other awake under the only singular yellow light as we finished paperwork. or where sometimes he’d invite me to spend lunch with him as he felt he’d enjoy the company.

i got lost in the intricacies of his face as he tampered with the printer. thin eyebrows furrowed in concentration, bottom lip captured between his thick scarred fingers as he muttered to himself.

i fell in a trance, locked on the slope of his button nose, his gemstone eyes, and chubby caramel cheeks dusted in freckles.

he looked essentially like the same boy i saw on the screen all those years ago, yet matured and hardened by the realities of life.

i wanted nothing more than to reach out and protect him any way my small quirkless body could. to be there for him the same way he was for everyone else.

he eventually got the printer to work with a boyish smile on his face as he told me that despite the good roughing up i gave the machine, he was able to locate and handle the issue. “next time, skip the punching and come find me, yeah? i’ll help with any problems you face.” he joked as he made his way into his office to resume his work.

i didn’t know it was possible to fall harder for that man, but he proved with every day of his existence that the impossible didn’t apply to him.

i was finally able to get some sleep the next few nights as my eyelids filled with the blush on his cheekbones and his gaze of concentration.

but my trip to cloud 9 didn’t last very long as the occasional meeting with uraraka became trips to her agency, and occasional meetings in civilian clothes to civilian places, like coffee shops and corner stores.

to anyone else, those would read as dates. to me, they read as dates. but izuku assured the gossiping sidekicks that it was strictly professional ~ nothing more, nothing less.

i knew that i would end up with more fits of restlessness and sleepless nights as i pictured the two of them laughing over a cup of coffee. so i sought out a replacement.

a moment. a look. a sentence.

anything directed at me that would choke out the ugly thoughts and images my brain would show me of the two of them together.

so that afternoon as i brought him his lunch, i placed the box safely onto the table beside him as he continued skimming through the papers littered across the desk.

he muttered a small ‘thank you’ but it wasn’t enough. as my hand moved to place his drink that i held in my other hand next to his food, a different idea popped in my head.

my hand moved faster than my brain could register what it had just planned to do. squeezing just enough for the lid to pop off and slip from my fingers to tumble into his lap.

as soon as the liquid and ice hit his lap he flew up from his seat and away from his desk.

my hands flew up to my mouth as a string of apologies fell from my lips. eyes watering in guilt as they moved around the room trying to locate something to soak up the mess with.

“i am so sorry, my fingers slipped and before i knew it i had lost control of the cup. i-i can’t tell you how sorry i am.” i rambled as i took my blazer off to wipe at the wet stains starting to form at the bottom of his teal suit.

“hey, hey, hey.” he said softly, taking my tinier hands into his large and battered ones. warmth enveloped my clutched sticky hands as he gently urged me to stand from my crouching position in front of him.

“it was an accident. no harm, no foul.” he said with a soft smile.

i should feel bad, as it wasn’t entirely an accident. but the warm and gentle look in his eyes made what little guilt i felt crumble away.

his thumbs rubbing soft circles to my skin as he worked to get the tears to stop streaming from my eyes was enough to get me to sleep like a baby for a good 2 weeks.

until it became a cycle. he would spend too much time around uraraka, and then i would do something all in the name of garnering his attention back on me.

was it wrong of me to do, to take advantage of his kindness? to take advantage of the fact that he was naive to my true intentions? maybe.

but i felt i deserved it. i felt i deserved to be looked at the same way he looked at her.

i wasn’t any different than she was. with the way she used her big brown eyes to pull him in. or the way her cute behavior made him blush. or the way her sweet way of talking made him laugh.

i can’t be her, or compare to her. so i found my own way around it. and no one could fault me for doing so. they just couldn’t.

at the end of the mission, uravity decided to throw a party in celebration of their win. a nice formal gathering, with everyone she had involved.

when izuku pulled me aside one late night to tell me that he was extending the invitation to me felt akin to a marriage proposal.

i wasn’t involved much in the case, merely being used as the one who provided them their lunch on their long meeting days. or filing and organizing the paperwork and notes that they would compile. i wasn’t out in the field, breaking bones like izuku or saving lives like uraraka.

i didn’t deserve to go, but i didn’t care. izuku had invited me personally and damn it, i was gonna be there.

yet, i shouldn’t have gone.

i shouldn’t have spent the hours on my makeup. i shouldn’t have enlisted the help of my best friend to do my hair as i gushed about how izuku had personally invited me, how he was the most perfect man ever, and how i was undoubtedly in love with him.

i shouldn’t have spent the week leading up to the event going from shop to shop trying to find the prettiest dress that was just the exact color of his eyes. i shouldn’t have spent about half my paycheck on said dress when i found it.

i shouldn’t have decided to face my fears and step out of my comfort zone to join a group of heroes that i knew were old classmates of izuku’s as they whispered about something that clearly was a raving topic.

because then i wouldn’t have heard how izuku was planning on confessing to uraraka. i wouldn’t have heard how this mission caused old high school feelings to rekindle. i should have known my place.

and that was far away from here, from the hero scene. i should have grown up to be an accountant or a chef.

when my father took me to get that checkup when i was 5, to confirm that there truly resides no quirk inside me.

i should have left it at that.

when i was riding my bike that day as a first year and i saw the group of boys huddled around a screen as they tuned into the u-a sports festival, i should have kept riding.

as maybe it would have saved me a lot of pain.

i backed away slowly, heels tapping against the tile floor as i hurried out of the building.

i didn’t realize how suffocated i felt until the chilly autumn hair brushed my face and into my lungs.

my whole body felt hot, i felt numb. i stumbled onto the sidewalk as i looked into the dark azure sky glittered with stars.

the tears finally spilled from my eyes as the stars muddled together into a messy blur. my stomach swirled and tensed as pit of nausea sunk in my stomach.

my chest heaved as it tried to process the crisp cold air into oxygen, but my throat was too tight to let much in.

i gasped and sobbed as my back hit the brick behind me, my legs wobbling unable to carry my weight much longer.

i slid into a crouched position as my tears mixed with the black of my mascara. streaming in pools down my cheeks, neck, and chest.

in the midst of my sobbing and heaving, i called my friend who was still at my apartment awaiting details of that night when i came home.

knowing it was far too early for me to be calling her she picked up the phone with confusion. it didn’t take much words from me, not like i gave her much, to convince her that she needed to come pick me up.

as she hung up the phone, my hand slipped from my ear, falling limp to my side as i placed my head into my other arm resting atop my knees.

this was inevitable and i knew it. no matter how many ways i was able to manipulate a sweet glance from him, it didn’t mean anything.

izuku was nice to everybody. sweet to everyone. kind to anyone.

but with her, it was different. he treated her that way, not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

they had years of memories, of laughs. they were perfect for each other, both smart, and kind, and always looking to help others. never acting selfishly or for personal gain.

they shared soft touches like they did old stories. they looked at each other with the same respect and admiration.

i was wrong. uraraka and i are nothing alike. she didn’t have to beg izuku to look at her like she hung the moon, he did so without asking.

unbeknownst to me, as i was manipulating izuku into these fabricated moments of gentle gazes and kind words, i was manipulating myself.

lying to the deepest parts of me that knew that this wasn’t real. that i wasn’t her. that he didn’t think of us the same way.

to him, uraraka is an old friend, who views the world the same way he does, who shares his same passions, who built her quirk to do some good within this world.

to him, i was a coffee-getter, the girl who knew his lunch orders like the back of her hand, the girl who filed his papers. the quirkless little fangirl who practically begged him to give her a job under him.

i heard the metal door open and snap shut announcing that someone was now outside with me. however, i just assumed it was a party-goer stepping outside for a smoke or a phone call so i didn’t bother to look up.

i also wasn’t in the mood for if the person happened to be a drunk girl who was ready to become my therapist as she saw me crouched on the sidewalk wishing to become one with the cement and simply cease to exist.

“there you are, i was wondering where you went?”

i would have taken the amateur therapist over this.

the voice belonged to izuku, dripping with sugar and default kindness.

if i could become one with the bricks just a little bit faster that would be great.

“hey, are you alright?” his tone became worried but i still didn’t dare to look up from my arms.

“do you feel sick? did something happen? do i need to take you home?” there he goes, into hero mode. ready to drop anything to help anyone facing the slightest of inconveniences.

“please just leave me alone.” i mumbled, throat tight and voice wavering as i try to hold the tears that still remain to fall.

“what did you say? i didn’t quite hear you.” he said softly, gently setting his large hands onto my exposed shoulder.

they should feel like welcoming warmth, but instead they felt blistering hot as i shoved them away as quickly as i could.

“i said leave me alone.” i said, slightly louder as i no longer was stuffed in my arms and knees.

he immediately saw the mess my face was in, i could tell by the way he quickly reverted fully into deku.

“hey, what’s wrong? whatever it is, i can help. didn’t i say you could come to me whenever you ne-“

“oh my god just stop! i can’t take it anymore.” i snapped, finally able to look him in the face.

but not for long as i saw the same look on his complexion as the first time i snapped at him.

“you’re too fucking nice. leaving you vulnerable for people to take advantage of you. giving them a reason to be selfish.”

“i dont-“ he tried to start but i cut him off.

“i don’t need a hero, izuku. there are people you just can’t save.”

as he worked to wrap his head around what was happening, my friend pulled up in my getaway car.

i bent down and grabbed my purse, but before i could fully escape this night, izuku grabbed my wrist causing me to stare into his eyes.

now lit aflame with desperation, “please just tell me what’s wrong. let me help you.” he encouraged softly.

but i wasn’t going to fall for it, not again.

i wasn’t gonna be played for the fool as i took the soft look in his eyes for anything but the gaze of a hero hoping to add another save to their statistics.

“god you never know when to quit!” i yelled as i yanked my wrist back. “and i hate that i-“

loved that about you?

no, love that about you.

i shook my head, thankful that for once my brain caught my actions before i spilled and made a mess again.

i walked quickly to the car, opening the passenger door almost as fast in hopes that within its metal sanctuary i could finally escape this hell.

“y/n- i-“

“mr. midoriya.” i just about whispered, my energy long since drained.

he laughed gently and i cursed the way my heart squeezed a little at the sound.

still head over heels for the angelic sound.

“you haven’t called me that in a long-“

“i quit.”

“w-what?” he muttered in disbelief.

i wouldn’t believe it either, not after the way i came to him nearly 4 years ago saying i would even be willing to clean toilets if he asked me to, so long as i got to work for him.

“i quit.” i repeated.

“you don’t mean that.”

he’s right i didn’t, not really.

hot tears started to dribble as my lower lip puckered in a sour quiver.

“no i do, sir.” i shook. “i will send someone to collect my things on monday.”

and with that i closed the door.

“drive.” i whispered to my friend who after a moment of looking at me, trying to read me, silently put the car into drive and started forward.

leaving izuku behind to stumble after the car, mouth muttering, trying to form any sort of sentence or sense.

but i couldn’t see him, knowing not to look at the mirrors situated on the side of the vehicle.

for they too are liars, as objects in the mirror are farther than they appear.

*** my little blue bitch working overtime

🧼 also mayhaps “soap” by melanie martinez fits this story… unintentionally ~ but if i’m wrong it’s cuz i haven’t listened to it in a while

[ey8508]

Rumors and Secrets: Victor | 李泽言

Note:

R&S for this card (CG above)

Chapter SPOILERS up to Season 2: Chapter 18-21 (read at your own risk)

Contains 5 chapters

Translation isn’t 100% accurate (or include grammar errors)

Every part for LZ’s dialogue would be in “this setting”

Do not repost to any other site (reblog is fine)

Chapter 1 Page 1 It's no exaggeration to say that the name "Li Zeyan" has run through my entire high school era.  This "evil fate" probably starts with a 31-point Chinese test paper. I'm Gao Qishan, only 17 years old at that time, but there are so many things that usually interest me. Games, animations, and football are nothing compared than reading a book in a room. But hey, it's a pity that my dad doesn't think so. "I only scored 31 points in the Chinese test, and I'm still here with a hippie smile!" In the study, the old man blew his beard, looking disappointed, "How can my son be so useless!" Page 2 "Your son is very capable. I was the MVP of the basketball game last night!" "Your PPP is useless! You are in the second year of high school, not the second grade of elementary school! You have a 31-point score and you have a face to play basketball? You don't have any shame or a competitive spirit. Do you not want to go to college anymore?!"  . I was about to reply impatiently, the old man took out a magazine from somewhere, poked his hand at the cover and yelled at me: "Look at the person. He founded the company at the age of 20. In just two years, he has been on the "Business Rising Stars" cover interview! Look at yourself again, someone who is almost 17 years old and does not have the realization of it, do you want to be in the worst generation in the future, ah?!" Page 3 I'm not happy to hear this: "What's so great about starting a company? Your son, I will start a company in minutes!” "I'm almost out of school, and I started my own company? Oh, I'm going to be better!" The old man raised his head, and the thick magazine almost hit my handsome face.  "Learn from others, and don't give me daydreaming here!" Page 4 I grabbed this "Business Rising Stars" with enthusiasm. A decent young man in a suit was looking ahead through the photo. On the cover was a striking headline: "Li Zeyan, an astounding leader in Lianyu City.” "This title is exaggerated!" Even if I was taught by Lao Gao, I was inexplicably better compared with this Li Zeyan, and I just threw the magazine under the sofa. Who wants to learn from him? Just looking at it is a tarnish to my ability! Page 5 But somehow, at night I tossed and turned and I couldn't fall asleep! The more I closed my eyes, the more uncomfortable I was, what did Li Zeyan do. When I turned over for the 100th time, I suddenly sat up. It was a task by old Gao to read the magazine anyway, so I decided to retrieve the magazine and just take a look. After sneaking into the study room, it took me a long time to find the magazine in the innermost part of the sofa. Page 6 "... Although Li Zeyan is only 22 years old, he is already the president of Huarui, an emerging medium-sized company in Lianyu City.  Starting from scratch, he started from a small office to now has hundreds of people. Every step he walks is particularly solid and decisive. Li Zeyan’s way of business is beyond ordinary. He is like a lion, born with a King's aura." All these compliments just for this, isn't it just descriptions of someone starting their own company? I just haven't paid much attention to reading.  Just relying on my ingenuity, and getting a high score on the tests, it is absolutely nothing when it comes to starting a company. Hmph, just you wait. Chapter 2 Page 1 The university in City A is not only one of the top five in the province, but also the top five in the country. It is a university that I, Gao Qishan was admitted to dignifiedly! How about that, I said I'm absolutely fine. In a blink of an eye, the freshman year has passed. In the past two years, I have also paid a little attention to Huarui. The development has been okay, it has not closed down, and the scale has doubled.  It's just normal development. Is it worth the old Gao's praise from time to time?  Every time he flipped through a financial magazine and sighed, "You are so young, so good", it sounds a bit too much. Page 2 As the saying goes, "Seeing is believing", I think this sentence is right.  Taking advantage of the summer vacation, I decided to apply for Huarui's summer internship to see in person how the company is, just not to waste my talents and financial knowledge. Soon I entered the building, but how can the interviewer in the middle feel a bit familiar, the more I look at it, the more I recognize... Wait, isn't it exactly Li Zeyan?! What's happening, is Huarui going bankrupt? Why is the president personally do the interviewing for the summer interns? Page 3 "Manager Chen has something to do, I happen to be free." Probably my shock expression was too obvious. Li Zeyan flipped through the information at hand and looked up at me blankly.  "Gao Qishan? First, briefly introduce yourself." I don't know what's going on. I was so startled by Li Zeyan that I couldn't help but straighten up.  After swallowing my throat, I mobilized all my attention, took a deep breath and said, "Hello, my name is Gao Qishan, and I am a freshman in the Department of Economics and Management of the University of City A..." Page 4 After introducing himself, Li Zeyan asked a few more related professional questions. This kind of small question is nothing to me. It seems that Huarui’s interview is nothing more than that. He occasionally knocked his fingers on the table subconsciously, and asked with a deep gaze: "Why do you want to come to Huarui for an internship?" The continuous response made me more and more relaxed. I changed my sitting position and quickly thought about how to deal with this new question. Judging from previous information, Li Zeyan is a person who likes to win at everything. He should appreciate the kind of answers that seem extraordinarily confident, right? Page 5 After carefully thinking about this, I straightened my back and raised my chin and said: Although Huarui is quite a new company, it has grown at an amazing speed, and the achievements it has made so far are obvious to all in the industry.  And although I am a freshman student, I think I have a very strong learning ability. In this regard, I have a lot of similarities with Huarui. Therefore, I think Huarui is very suitable for me and will definitely make me grow faster. Of course, I can definitely give back the same freshness and vitality for Huarui. With a confident smile, I finished my speech and waited quietly for Li Zeyan's nod. But to my surprise, a few seconds later I was greeted by a frown from Li Zeyan. Page 6 "It seems that you have confidence in yourself. To be a man and to do things really requires self-confidence, but everything must be controlled." Li Zeyan stared at me and said in a hurry, "Only by maintaining reflection and introspection can we truly make progress." I understood his words, and my face flushed. A few days later, I really received a notice from HR (Human Resources) and I didn't get hired. Page 7 Although I had a foreseeable result from Li Zeyan's remarks, when I really received a reply and recalled the interview scene, I was still very angry. After my sophomore year, I went back to the final exams and tried to fight for the first place. I'll make sure that my ambitions are not just mere words. I have written down the "new hatred and old hatred" on my notes. I will definitely use the shortest time to create my own territory, leaving Huarui far behind! Chapter 3 Page 1 Today is the first day of my "Yuanshan Group" moving to a new building.  Morning light came in from the spacious floor-to-ceiling windows, and I stood by the desk, proudly holding on to the brand-new office chair. In the next semester of the junior year, I used the dividends I participated in the project as the start-up capital, and I didn't need a penny higher than the old one, so my "distant mountain" just rose from the ground.  Isn’t it just 20-year-old to start a company from scratch? What's the difficulty?  When I founded Yuanshan, I was exactly 21, and the rounding is almost the same as Li Zeyan.  Because of this, my old man, Lao Gao stopped training me long ago, and I guess he must have praised me secretly. Page 2 In just a few years, Yuanshan has grown from a small company of eight people to a scale that now occupies a seven-story high-end office building, and the suffix has also changed from "company" to the word "group".  To be honest, my founder is very satisfied with Yuanshan's growth.  Although there is still a certain distance from Huarui, after all, they are also developing along the way, but it doesn't matter, I am still young, and sooner or later I can catch up. It didn't take long before the opportunity to "catch up" came. Page 3 I was originally interested in the land to the north of Lianyu City. When I heard that Huarui was also planning to bid on that land, I became more interested.  The Lianyu Municipal Government intends to develop the somewhat hindered northern side. At present, construction has begun to build a crossing bridge and a shopping mall, and this piece of land is nearby. "It is more than enough to build a six-star resort with 18,000 square meters and the supporting facilities can be added. Maybe Huarui made the same idea." I have paid attention to the recent developments of Huarui and have invested in four resort hotels one after another. The senior management of the company also agreed that the land is worthwhile, and if it can be won within the highest valuation of 89 million yuan, it should make a profit without losing it. Page 4 A month later, I came to the auction site with confidence.  Sitting in front of me at ten o'clock is Li Zeyan, the president of Huarui in a suit and leather shoes. After a few years of absence, I can finally compete with him. On the stage, the auctioneer gave an impassioned introduction to the land, and then said in a melodious tone: "The starting price is 35 million, and the auction will begin now!" As soon as the voice fell, several companies immediately raised their signs. But my opponent is Huarui. It is still early, so I have to wait for Huarui to make a move. Page 5 When the bidding became increasingly fierce, Li Zeyan finally raised his placard for the first time: "60 million." The opponent finally appeared, and I immediately raised the number plate: "61 million." As if he was just encountering an ordinary bidder, Li Zeyan never answered with words, but raised his placard again: "70 million." I continued to chase: "71 million!" Side to the front, Li Zeyan seemed to raise his eyebrows slightly. After a few seconds, he raised the number plate again, and said: "80 million." Page 6 "81 million!" As if finally realizing my bite, Li Zeyan glanced at me slightly sideways, then he raised the number plate, the noise was low and clear: "90 million." This figure has already exceeded the company's highest valuation, and the assistant quietly tugged on my sleeve, beckoning me to forget it. But if I really give up on this, I still feel no sigh of relief in my heart. The auctioneer has already shouted in front: "90 million twice." Page 7 "100 million!" My voice came out, at the last moment. Of course, Li Zeyan finally gave me a straight look. I watched his hand nervously, and saw that the number plate was never raised again, and the auctioneer had already shouted excitedly: "One hundred million! Yuanshan Group has come out of one hundred million! One hundred million once! Three hundred million!, make a deal!" Page 8 Finally got it!  Such a valuable piece of land I believe it will be a great help to Yuanshan, and it’s just around the corner to get rid of Huarui. I didn't even consider the cost of 100 million yuan. I just felt that my body was comfortable and exuberant, and the bright prospects were beckoning me. When Li Zeyan passed by me, my triumphant pride couldn't stop. "Thanks to Mr. Li for the bidding this time." Page 9 Li Zeyan put his suit jacket on one hand, and passed by me. I thought he would argue with me back, but Li Zeyan just raised his eyebrows uninterested, and then strode away without looking back. Okay, as the winner of the auction, I allow the loser to occasionally gaffe. Just when I was gearing up to do a big job, the Finance Department urgently sent a bad report. Due to my "passionate bidding", Yuanshan's capital chain suddenly had a problem. Chapter 4 Page 1 I urgently convened a high-level meeting, and after several discussions, the best solution at present turned out to be to invest in Huarui! Personally speaking, I have a hundred reluctances in my heart.  Not long before the auction, I took the initiative to bow to Hua Rui. Didn't that slap me in the face severely. However, the cruel reality lies in front of us. Yuanshan is not only my own person, but also the collective effort of hundreds of employees.  To let Yuanshan survive this crisis steadily, I can only and must "take the initiative to surrender" to Huarui. Forget it, "vote" just "vote"!  Although it was a mistake in my decision-making this time, Yuanshan's development prospects are so good that Li Zeyan should never not invest as long as his eyes are correct. Page 2 However, the negotiation process is still more difficult than I expected. It is not that Huarui has no intention to invest, but almost all the conditions listed are on the lowest line of the distant mountains. "If I remember correctly, the creditworthiness of Huarui's previous investment in the gaze lock company is not very high." I fought hard against the low pressure, and Yuanshan's creditworthiness has always been in the top four in the industry. "...with Yuanshan's creditworthiness Huarui's right to speak will definitely be improved. I think Mr. Li can think about it again." Page 3 "Do you think you are still eligible to negotiate terms with me?" Li Zeyan straightened his mouth, exuding deterrence, "...Huarui Investment in Yuanshan is not for charity, and has no obligation to pay for your suicidal behavior." He raised his hand and glanced at his watch, with a hint of impatience on his face: "Think carefully about it yourself." The long negotiation was finally over. Although Yuanshan and Huarui finally reached a cooperation intention, the whole process failed me. I thought I was about to be on the same line of competition with Li Zeyan, but I was beaten back to the former "interviewer" again. Page 4 By the area downstairs in Huarui, I was smoking a stuffy cigarette, and suddenly there was a faint sound of footsteps behind me. It turned out to be Li Zeyan. Although he was still expressionless, the murderous aura and arrogance from the negotiations seemed to have diminished. Li Zeyan steadily walked to my side: "Gao Qishan, I remember you once came to interview for a summer internship." I didn't expect Li Zeyan to take the initiative to speak. I was surprised. He said: "Several years have passed, and it seems that self-confidence is increasing." If it wasn't for my lose, I stood up slightly: “Although I made a mistake this time, as far as the strength of Yuanshan is concerned, I have the capital to be confident." Page 5 "Yuanshan's strength is indeed pretty good, but don't rush to eat the cakes that you can't eat for the time being. Being high is far from a long-term plan for enterprise development." Li Zeyan said lightly, and took out a card from his pocket and handed it to me, "There will be a practical business forum in Lianyu City next week. You can come and listen when you have time." A practical business forum? What do you mean, is he mocking me for being too pragmatic? The inexplicable enthusiasm and self-esteem suddenly appeared, and I blurted out: "Mr. Li, even if Yuanshan is really not as good as Huarui now, there is no need to humiliate people like this, right?" Page 6 Li Zeyan frowned: "What are you talking about?" He paused, his eyes sinking, "I thought you would be an opponent you could look forward to, but I didn't expect the vision to be just like that." Without additional explanation, Li Zeyan turned and walked away after speaking. I was stunned, looking at Li Zeyan's steadily leaving behind, I couldn't help but relive the conversation just now in my mind. Could it be that Li Zeyan meant that because he regarded me as a potential opponent and hoped that this opponent could become stronger and more competitive, did he propose to let me participate in the business forum? Page 7 That's right, it seems that only such an explanation can make sense! Thinking of this, I couldn't help blowing a whistle. After all, it was an "imaginary enemy" and pursuit of goals since the age of 17, which can be affirmed and recognized by Li Zeyan. It is simply an easter egg that comes with the negotiation, and it is worthy of the old man to praise me ten times. I was being silly and happy. Suddenly my fingers hurt, I have forgotten about my cigarette that was about to burn my fingers! Chapter 5 Page 1 With Huarui's capital injection, Yuanshan passed the crisis steadily. After more than half a year, the foundation of the resort has gradually taken shape. Just when everything seemed to be going in a good direction, early this morning, the news of "the crash of the president of Huarui" directly bombed all major platforms.  Reminiscent of the so-called "homicide list" that was suddenly leaked on the internet a few days ago, I inexplicably feel that these two things may have some connection. Who on earth wants Huarui to sink in the water? Wait a minute, which company announced the list. Could it be that their person in charge is secretly playing tricks? Page 2 Before I could find anything out of my investigation, within a few days, the news of "Which company claims that Huarui has maliciously acquired a large number of pharmaceutical companies" once again detonated all platforms! "Deliberately monopolizing the pharmaceutical market will inevitably cause the price of medicines to rise, which is obvious." "Just for profit, this behavior is very bad!" "Even Huarui's own workers and can't stand it, which shows how terrible Li Zeyan's actions are!" Page 3 Opinions on the Internet are divergent, and public grievances are boiling, and they all accuse Huarui. But I don’t believe it. Although I have only met Li Zeyan several times in person, for so many years, because I have always regarded him as an opponent and target, I have studied Huarui and Li Zeyan’s behavior more than anyone else. The nonsense on the Internet, I don't believe a word! I browsed the web quickly, staring at the almost identical title and searched viciously. Page 4 "Huarui’s reputation plummeted, Li Zeyan fell into a situation where everyone was clamoring and angry, and the heads of the company was clearly cut off from him." In the video, the host's voice kept ringing into my ears. All the signs made me firmer in my previous thoughts: It must be looking at which company is crossing the river to demolish the bridge! I immediately called the assistant to the inside line: "How much do you hire me for a large number of naval forces? How many can you hire? How many! That's right, I have to spare no effort to clarify for Huarui, and by the way, I will focus on the company. Going right now!" I know that this "bad strategy" and only a small help but I haven't beaten Li Zeyan righteously, how could Huarui have an accident in such a situation! What I want is not the taste of winning without a fight. Page 5 Probably because of anger, I couldn't help but send a message to Li Zeyan: The outside world said that Huarui's energy is exhausted. You will not be reduced to the point where you still need to borrow money from me, right?" This message was sent, and I did not expect Li Zeyan to reply to me. However, when it was almost midnight, I suddenly received an email from Huarui. ‘Huarui has always been a responsible company, and will do what it says without fear of any storms. Now everything is running normally, you don't need to worry about it.’ Signer: Li Zeyan. Page 6 Looking at this email, I couldn't help but smile in the middle of the night. Also, Huarui has always been fighting steadily, and Li Zeyan has never fought unprepared battles. Maybe he is playing a big move. Otherwise, how can I say that he is my respectable and close opponent! As for my secret match with Li Zeyan. Give me another three or four years to see who wins and who loses.

[janiedean]

... the tyrion/sansa hairdresser/mortician au no one was expecting but happened

well @meri-vaahtoaa I TOLD YOU IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN TODAY AND IT HAPPENED, have a for now untitled tyrion/sansa mortician/hairdresser au inspired by this post with bonus guest star jeyne p. u___u don't look for angst, also extremely background mentioned jb plus jaime & bronn being themselves in the backstory, have fun u__u

This fucking teaches me to be drunk around both my brother and Bronn, Tyrion thinks for the umpteenth time as he keeps on walking - he needs a damned salon and he needs it now but he also had to get out of the neighborhood because like hell he’s going to risk running into anyone who knows his father. That’s the… least thing he needs, honestly, as if his life choices aren’t already something he has to fight for every other moment and he can’t fucking wait to be out of the house, which should be soon -

If he doesn’t get thrown out of his internship because of his horrible drunk choices.

Why did they have drinks together, why did they have drunk bets, why did he bet with Jaime that he would dye his hair bright blue if he stopped beating around the bush and confessed to the bartender that he’s been into her since they started coming to that specific place for drinks because he chickened out of it for months, except -

Except Jaime went and did it and it turned out that she actually had been looking back and Tyrion hadn’t been wrong in that assessment, but then he had to do it and he actually went and used a do it yourself dye and -

Well.

He honestly can’t go and start his apprenticeship with blue hair that’s also… well, not even professionally dyed, and considering the arguments that it created the least thing he needs is going somewhere he’d be recognized.

So, he’s plenty out of the neighborhood, but he hasn’t found someplace that felt… well, not extra fancy. The second-least thing he needs is extra fancy shops where people would send looks his way that he could absolutely do without.

Also, it’s fucking hot. Why did he do that in the middle of summer again? And why couldn’t he have bet something more reasonable - right, it was Bronn’s idea and they were drunk. Fuck.

He walks a bit more, wondering if maybe he should sit down and check on Google Maps if he’s ended up in the only area of the city that doesn’t have any, and then he sees one on the other side of the road - fine, he stopped because he wondered who names a hair salon Beauty and the Beast, but it costs nothing to have a look from the outside, right?

He crosses the street and walks up to the door.

First thing, the pricing list outside it looks… well, it’s not cheap, but it’s certainly not the ridiculous fares they ask where his sister goes to have her hair done, which is exceedingly good since he doesn’t want to spend a salary’s worth of an average office employee to get that blue crap out of his hair. He looks through the glass door - there is just one woman inside getting her hair done, which is also good because the least people around the shorter the wait, it certainly does look clean and while the pastel aesthetic is maybe a bit too much for his tastes - everything is a pastel shade, from the light yellow on the floor to the pale pink and violet of the chairs and the powder blue of the walls… well, beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to it, and the woman on the chair is chatting amicably with the chestnut-haired girl doing her hair and doesn’t look like she hates being there or like she chose the wrong shop.

Also, it’s two PM and he knows this is going to take long. He can hardly afford to fuck around much longer.

He pushes the door open and walks into the shop.

“Welcome!” The chestnut-haired girl says, giving him a nice smile. “Sorry if I don’t come over, but if you sit for a minute my colleague will be back from her coffee break shortly.”

“Sure,” he says, “no hurry,” and he goes sitting on one of the pale violet chairs on the side - they’re comfortable, at least, and he considers taking out the book he brought with to pass the time, but then -

“Hello and welcome! Can I get you a glass of water” Someone else chirps from his side, and right, he did hear the door open -

Oh.

“Hi,” he blurts, staring into a pair of lovely blue eyes belonging to supposedly the other girl working here - she has long auburn hair styled in a french braid and is wearing a blue summer dress that pairs with her eyes perfectly and she’s smiling down at him as if she’s not horrified by his horrid dye-job, or by his presence in the first place, which is his general experience in this kind of shops, so - that’s good, at least. “And uh, thanks,” he says, realizing he is thirsty.

“Be right back! Sorry, I was taking my break but we have no appointments today, so I’ll be on your case very soon.”

She goes to the corner of the room and grabs a glass of water from a dispenser, then brings it to him - shit, he needed it.

“So, what can I do for you?”

“Er,” he says, “I dyed that hair for a bet but I was called for an internship yesterday, and I start on Monday, so… I need a removal. If it’s possible.”

The girl leans closer, taking a good look at his hair.

“Hm,” she says, “it might take a while, but I think it’s possible. It’s not a very good dye job, if I can say so.”

He snorts. “Oh, you can. Please, I did it and I have regretted it every moment since.”

“Well,” she nods, “you’re lucky that most likely no one will show up for anything complicated today then. Jeyne, can you handle other customers in case?”

“Sure,” the chestnut-haired girl replies. “As if I don’t know you’ll have the time of your life.”

She rolls her eyes, then goes to a wardrobe in the corner and finds him a towel, tucks it around his neck and lowers a chair near the small sinks at the bottom of the shop so he can sit on it - he does, feeling extremely thankful that it’s extremely comfortable leather, and he can hear her tutting about bad dyes under her breath as she washes his hair once, twice, thrice, and her fingers feel really good on his scalp but he’s not going to think about that now.

“Just for the record,” she asks as she rinses it, “do you just want the dye to go away or do you want a cut, too?”

“Hell,” he says, “I need to look presentable. I suppose the cut can’t hurt.”

“Will do,” she chirps again, “and by the way, never use that kind of dye again. Not with hair this nice.”

Tyrion would have toppled off the chair if his head wasn’t thrown too far back for it to happen.

“I have nice hair now?”

“You can feel it,” she replies, “under all this… this,” she says, shaking her head.

“I know,” he says, “bad choices.”

“Extremely,” she goes on, rinsing. “But don’t you worry. I’ll have it fixed.”

“Really,” chestnut-haired girl says, “Sansa is a pro with that kind of thing. You’re in good hands.”

Oh. So her name is Sansa. It’s pretty, he thinks.

“Well,” he says, “I can’t wait to see how you manage it. I’m Tyrion, by the way. Figures you should know if I know yours?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she goes on, and gives his hair a last rinse. “Right, can you move forward?” He does and she dries his hair with the towel, then goes to find a mantel that somehow he doesn’t drown in. “Please,” she says, “on whichever free chair you prefer.”

He picks an empty one two spots away from Jeyne and the other woman and lowers it so he can sit down, and then Sansa raises it up again until his still sadly blue head is at the right height.

“Hm,” she says, grabbing a lock and feeling it between her fingers, “from what I see here you’re a natural blonde?”

“Sort of,” he shrugs. He is - his hair isn’t as golden as his siblings’, but it definitely is on that shade. Not that he ever bothered to look into it. “Wait,” he says, fishing into his pocket, and then he grabs his phone and shows her a picture Bronn took of him and Jaime during Tyrion’s latest birthday party which is about the only one of his he’s kept there where you can see his actual color very well. She takes it, squints, zooms on his head, then nods and hands him back the phone.

“Well,” she says, “we’re going to have to use a color remover to take out the blue pigment, then apply some more pigment to allow for the proteins in the hair to adhere to it. Then… yeah, possibly mix a few different types of toners to reach the goal of your natural hair color, and it’s going to take a while, but we should get there. Nothing that terrible.”

“Er,” he blurts, “how much chemistry did you have to study to get there?”

She smiles a bit wider.

“Yeah, I know, but some people don’t like if we talk like that. It makes it sound complicated, I’m told.”

“Not at all,” he says, waiting as Jeyne, who has finished the other woman’s hair, goes to the back room to presumably get Sansa at least the color remover, “not like it’s not… sort of my thing, too,” he says, and then he bites his own tongue - why did he ever do that, now she’s going to decide he’s a creep or something -

“Really,” she says as Jeyne comes back and hands her the remover, “do lean your head back. And what it is that you do?”

He takes a deep breath and tells her.

—

“Oh, so you’re a mortician?” Sansa says happily as she keeps on applying the remover to his hair, her fingers pressing along his scalp as she rubs it in. To her credit, she doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s creepy.

“Well, apprentice,” he shrugs, “but yeah, working on it. And starting an internship soon. Where I can’t… look like this. But yes. Just going through my degree - I had a final a couple days ago. Fuck, it was so embarrassing.”

“Did they judge your hair?”

“Called it apocalyptic, but I aced it.”

“Nice. What was it about?”

“Embalming, mostly,” he sighs. “All the chemistry about formadelhyde I had to learn.”

“Fun fact,” Sansa grins, “do you know they use it in clothing?”

… He somehow had not known that.

“What? Really? They forgot to cover that part.”

“Well,” Sansa says, “I used to crash fashion school lessons, my brother’s boyfriend snuck me in. I learned a lot. I think it’s because of the preserving qualities, though I’m sure it wasn’t… all of it.”

“I mean,” Tyrion blurts, “it’s a preservative but it’s also a disinfectant. Destroys bacteria and their food supply, and it’s a dehydrator, there’s a reason why we use it that much.”

“Hm,” Sansa nods, starting to put aluminium stripes on his hair - fuck, he looks ridiculous like this, “one wonders why you don’t just use alcohol then? Because I thought it was kind of carcinogen.”

Well, she did listen to those lessons for sure.

“It’s cheaper,” Tyrion sighs, “a lot cheaper. It cuts costs. Guess I’ll resign myself to the cancer risk.”

She snorts. “Please,” she says, keeping on placing those stripes carefully, “I’m pretty sure that’s exaggerating a bit. There, they should rest for half an hour. I have to place a few calls now but if you want to read while I’m at it feel free to, just don’t move your head around too much.”

“Roger that,” Tyrion nods, and settles back in the chair.

He has a feeling it’s going to be long, but at least she’s very good company. Jeyne looks about to say something but then another woman comes in the shop and she goes to greet her, and Tyrion goes back to his Chinese sci-fi book that he’s really enjoying and hopes that at the end of it he doesn’t have to shave his head because that dye was that bad.

—

Half an hour later, after washing away the remover, Sansa has moved on to applying the first round of pigment to his hair - the blue did go out, but it still looks…. well. Bad. He can see it just looking at it in the mirror.

“So, she says, “is your internship at a funeral home?”

“Yes,” he replies, “it’s during the last six months of the degree, then you write your thesis and you get your license, and honestly, it’s a nice funeral home. I hope they hire me for good. Anyway, it makes sense. We need to have… experiences with, uh, cases, you know, uh -“

“You can say bodies,” Sansa grins brightly, “it’s fine. I know what you do in funeral homes.”

“Oh, thank God,” he blurts. “I’m sorry, uh, people tend to get queasy when I mention them. The bodies, I mean.”

“That sounds nonsensical,” Sansa shrugs, “what do people think happens when they die? Anyway, you can absolutely say that. Hm, here we go, I think these can stay. Another… yeah. Half-hour, forty-five minutes? Get yourself comfortable. I’ll go mix those toners meanwhile.”

Oh. Right. The toners. Fuck, he can’t wait for this entire dye business to be over. Honestly, he hasn’t done that when he was fifteen, he should have stuck with it.

He grabs his book back and starts reading it again, except that he finds himself wishing he could chat with Sansa some more and he needs to get that thought out of his head right now, no reason to set himself up for failure.

He reads on.

—

Later, she’s washed his hair again and she’s still mixing the toners.

“Yeah,” she says, “I think this need a bit more work, but I’m curious. Is there anything you don’t like about your school? Because you sounded really excited before.”

Did I, Tyrion thinks, but then again… he almost never talks about it to anyone except Jaime or Bronn because everyone else thinks it’s morbid, and somehow this girl who owns a wholly pastel shop actually seems to enjoy discussing the topic, so why the hell not?

“I mean,” he says, “I think we should do autopsies.”

“Oh, you don’t? I’d have expected it.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, “me too, and I think we should for, you know, completion and so on, but we don’t, so I guess I’ll read up on it.”

“But,” she says, “hypothetically,” and she’s kind of smiling slyly, what, “let’s say that someone wakes up while embalming them. What do you do then?”

“I mean,” Tyrion replies, slowly, “I think there’s a pretty huge difference between a living body and a dead one?”

“Sansa, please,” Jeyne says as she combs through the hair of the other woman, who looks… a tiny bit disturbed, but neither Jeyne nor Sansa are, so… who cares. right?, “never mind that you need a bit more toner, but I think there’s a thing named rigor mortis that’d make it pretty fucking obvious.”

“That,” Tyrion replies, “also if one gets stuck in a fridge for a few days I think you’d be dead anyway. Not to be, you know, morbid.”

Sansa mixes a bit more toner and smiles wider. Right. She was so fucking with him. “I mean, you did pump them full of carcinogen just before, right?”

“Right,” he laughs as she tells him to lean back and starts applying the toner to his poor roots, “we did, technically.”

“Just stay still,” she goes on, “it’ll be another hour, I think. Then I can cut.”

Well, he decides, at least this entire process is being not overtly miserable.

He leans back and lets her apply the toner and then cover it with the aluminium stripes all over again.

—

“So,” she says later while Jeyne is going through the third client of the day and he’s sitting on the chair again after his hair was thoroughly rinsed and washed for the umpteenth time — he lost count, honestly, but now it does look like his usual shade, sort of, he thinks, “can I ask what was this infamous bet about? Also, I can see your hair is naturally wavy — should I just trim the edges? Because I can see you cut it yourself and it’s not bad but you kind of hacked at them.”

“Er, yes,” he says, “sounds good. Wait, naturally wavy?”

“It is,” she says, “I can recognize it.”

“I, uh,” he coughs, “I don’t think I ever had it long enough to notice?”

“It’s the exact same as your brother’s,” she shrugs, “just a bit darker, but again, this should tide you over for a while. I mean, by the time it wears off whatever travesty you did to your hair in the first place should be fixed and it’ll be as before and no one will notice.”

“Then - I guess you can trim only and I’ll see,” he says, his throat suddenly feeling dry. No one ever compared him to Jaime in that sense without making it… well. About how he’s not the person with the good looks in the family, so this entire thing is just - weird. “Anyway, uh, you can ask about the bet. I mean, it’s just embarrassing.”

“I’m listening,” she says, cutting the edges of his hair slowly, and surely she puts a lot more thought it in than he does while cutting it, but then again… it’s her job and he learned because he didn’t want his father’s barber to go near his head.

“Er, so,” he clears his throat again, trying to figure out how to tell her the sanitized version of it while sparing her from all the family ugliness, “I was out drinking with the brother and the best friend at the same bar we’ve been going to for months because they have good drinks and the brother absolutely had a crush on the bartender, except that he came from a, uh, toxic relationship, let’s put it like that, and I thought he wasn’t going to fess up ever, so - we were drunk and it came out and I said of course I’d dye my hair that horrid color if he fessed up to her and like, I thought he never would but he actually went and did it and — yeah. I mean, glad for him that it went well but not my greatest moment.”

“Aw,” Sansa replies, keeping on trimming, “I like a nice love story. I imagine he doesn’t share our interest in formadelhyde.”

Why does his heart beat a tiny bit faster when she says our interest?

“No,” Tyrion shakes his head, “he’s more into nerding over Middle Ages weapons, but at least he didn’t tell me Six Feet Under was boring, so.”

“I loved that show,” she replies, “who’d say it’s boring?”

“It’s my favorite,” he shrugs a bit as she puts away the scissors. “And a lot of people, but it seems like you have good taste.”

She nods as she grabs some lotion that she supposedly has to pass into his hair before drying it. “And what about you?”

“Sorry?”

“Well, he had a nice love story going into port, so what about you?”

“Er,” he hopes he’s not blushing, fuck, he’s usually not — he doesn’t fluster, fucking hell, “I — really am not looking. My family kind of… fucked up the only serious relationship I had going for me and most people get put off at the whole I want to be a mortician thing, so.”

“What kind of family fucks up relationships for other people?”

“The kind we come from,” he sighs, “but at least he’s out of that circus and I’ll be the moment I graduate.”

“Nice,” Sansa nods, “now just hold on a moment and I’m drying it.”

He nods — she grabs an hair dryer and starts blowing it and yes, he can see she got the exact shade right now that it’s not wet anymore, and — well, of course it’s her job to make it look good but the more she proceeds the nicer it looks, and now he can vaguely see what she meant when she talked about natural curls, and also… it feels fluffier? Lighter? He has no fucking clue, but the moment she’s finished — well.

“Fuck,” he admits, “I don’t think my hair ever looked this nice in my entire life.”

She grins. “I know how to do my job. Another moment.” She sprays some more lotion on her hands and runs it through his hair again. “This was just for a bit of nutriment, but there you are. You know, if you treat it a bit more nicely you might not need it me to make it look good.”

“Yeah, well, and what if I’d like to come back here instead?” He blurts, not knowing what the fuck he’s aiming for, but then she grins back a bit wider.

“I always like making new clients,” she replies, “especially when they’re cute and they don’t only want to talk about the gossip in magazines. That gets boring after a while.”

Wait, did she call him cute?

“Tell you what,” she keeps on as she takes the mantel off him and waits for him to get off the chair and follow her to the counter, “let’s say I don’t give all new clients a ten percent discount but I do give it to the ones I like.”

What the fuck —

“So, here you go.”

She hands him a receipt… with a fifteen per cent discount. “But you have to promise me you won’t use that crap dye anymore. That’s probably more cancer-inducing than formaldehyde could ever be.”

He has to laugh at that.

“Fair,” he says, “I won’t. Maybe I’ll come back before my last final. It’s two weeks from now,” he says, slowly, “I might want to look good for it. As much as it goes, anyway.”

“Oh, I’ll make you look incredible, don’t you worry.” She takes his card, swipes it, hands him the POS. He’s sure he doesn’t let it drop just out of sheer force of will. The payment goes through, she gives him his receipt and he pockets it, his hand still sweating —

“I’ll see you to the door,” she goes on, and she follows him out.

“So, Tyrion,” she grins again, “see you in two weeks?”

“Oh,” he replies, “absolutely.”

“And let me know how the internship thing works out. I like to know what’s up with the clients I like,” she winks, and then she leans down and kisses his cheek before going back into the shop.

Tyrion just stands there dumbfounded and only takes a few steps from the shop, and he didn’t mean to eavesdrop but he hears Jeyne the moment he starts walking away and —

“Sansa, I know you said you’d be forward after that asshole Harry, but I never saw you being that obvious. You really liked our mortician or what?”

“So what?” Sansa replies, and Tyrion thinks he’ll faint. “No point in playing hard to get and all. When he comes back I’m absolutely asking him out for coffee or something. I did like him.”

“Good for you,” Jeyne replies, “he seems nice and you deserve a nice guy. Even if that dye was a really crap choice on his part.”

“Oh, if I have a say in it no bad dye is ever coming near that hair. It was so nice,” she replies, and at that point he leaves because he really shouldn’t be doing this and he will faint, but —

But he smiles to himself all the way home.

He thinks he’s never looked forward to a final that much, and if she does really ask him out for coffee, no way he’s being an idiot and saying no.

And if he’ll brush up on cool embalming facts before then, well, you can’t blame him, right?

End.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: Breaking Point

Relationships: Caline Bustier & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Characters: Caline Bustier, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Alya Césaire, Max Kanté, Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Juleka Couffaine, Lila Rossi, Tikki

Tags: caline bustier salt, Reveal, Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste Knows, Protective Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Caline Bustier Knows, ml salt, Harassment, Lila Rossi Lies, Bad Classroom Environments, Gaslighting, enablers, Bullying ,Salt, Identity Reveal, Spitefic, Swearing, Adrien Sugar

Summary: '“For instance, being a superhero is not a viable career path,” was what made her tune in, her attention fully pulled to Mme. Bustier, who seemed to be looking right at her.' 

Note: This was written based on a prompt by @norakwami.

AO3 link

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Marinette wasn’t really paying attention to Mme. Bustier’s lecture. To be fair, it was about career options and how to achieve them, something she had researched so completely she already had a list of universities she intended to apply to, along with possible companies to intern, all carefully tabbed in a binder at home that was also slowly filling with application and portfolio ideas.

Given that she was only fourteen and still had four more years before she reached the point of applying, she was ahead of the game. Perhaps she could be considering going to another lycée instead of the feeder for Collège Françoise Dupont, perhaps somewhere private that had a focus on fashion. But she didn’t want to put pressure on her parents, who would have to pay the tuition for such an institution, when she was already winning awards and making a name for herself through designing for Jagged Stone and the up-and-coming Kitty Section, among others.

“For instance, being a superhero is not a viable career path,” was what made her tune in, her attention fully pulled to Mme. Bustier, who seemed to be looking right at her.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Marinette felt frozen by that stare, pinned like a ladybug by an entomologist. How could she know? Did other people notice her stare?

“Ladybug is almost certainly harming her civilian future through these superhero antics, which prevent her from fulfilling all her obligations.”

Alya snorted. “That’s not Ladybug’s fault—it’s Hawkmoth’s. Ladybug protects the city. And maybe Paris should pay her for her services!”

“Ladybug is a teenager who should be concentrating on school,” Mme. Bustier declared, still staring holes into Marinette.

“Ladybug has never released her age,” Adrien murmured, his voice sounding strained. “So that’s conjecture, Mme. Bustier. How does this have to do with our future careers?”

To her horror, he turned and followed her gaze to Marinette.

She felt as though she might hyperventilate, panic rising in her gut. If she was compromised, that put her family and friends at risk, put the Miracle Box at risk, played right into Hawkmoth’s hands. She’d never been good at a poker face, and she wasn’t sure whether she was managing now.

Adrien’s eyes widened, and she knew she’d failed, at least with him. Kwami, she hoped she could trust him.

“I’m glad you asked, Adrien. For instance, Marinette, would you please share your current preparation for your future career.”

All eyes were on her, and she could feel the thoughts swirling around them as she was called out. She swallowed, trying to push it all down.

“I-I… I have a binder. At home. F-fifteen different universities with fashion p-programs. In order of where I want to go most. Also c-companies that offer internships.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves—it helped a bit. “I’ve started my portfolio, including the b-bowler hat that won M. Agreste’s contest, and my work for Jagged Stone and Kitty Section, and p-pictures of clothing I’ve designed and made.”

She could hear murmurs around her, and Alya gave a low whistle beside her.

“Girl, no wonder you don’t sleep. You’re on top of this!”

Mme. Bustier’s mouth became a thin line, her lips pressed together as though she was irritated.

Marinette wished keenly that Master Fu was still around, could handle this situation. She’d come to realize Mme. Bustier was a terrible teacher, enabling bullying and shaming victims as though they were at fault for their treatment. But this was a whole new level of awful.

“Still, the way you run off during Akuma attacks interrupts your daily life and prevents you from—”

“We all run away during Akuma attacks! They disrupt all our daily lives.”

Adrien stood, his back rigid from tension.

“Marinette has been personally targeted multiple times during Akuma attacks. So have I! A lot of this has been documented on the LadyBlog. It’s traumatizing—and we keep our memories of that because we’re not the Akuma. I run and hide, personally. Why would you shame Marinette for that?”

The class fell silent, and glancing around Marinette could see the tension in their faces, their own memories of being chased by Akuma.

Adrien had moved this away from the idea of Marinette being Ladybug to her being shamed for her reaction to Akumas. He was protecting her. And she loved him all the more for it.

“There was Evillustrator,” Marinette murmured, jumping on the red herring.

She glanced at Nathanaël apologetically. He offered a sad smile.

“I had to help Chat Noir with that. It was scary. André Glacier became Glaciator and came looking for me, and Chat Noir saved me from getting frozen. And Gamer was looking for me. Chat Noir saved me again.”

She could see Max wince across the aisle.

“Reflekta turned me into her clone because she was mad at me. And it was my fault.”

Marinette turned and mouthed ‘sorry’ to Juleka.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Juleka whispered, then cringed as she realized her voice had carried far enough for everyone to hear.

She smiled, then turned back to the front.

“My own grandmother tried to turn me into coal when she was Akumatized because she was upset I wasn’t like eight years old anymore—Chat Noir saved me again there, too. And then my dad was Akumatized and Chat Noir and Ladybug had to save me again.”

Marinette hadn’t been able to transform, needing to be saved as a civilian before she could get back as Ladybug. Too many of them had been so public she’d had to trust Chat Noir would be able to hold his own until she got there—and she did, but she was afraid sometime that would be fatal.

“And I saw footage when Adrien was dropped from a building and then when Volpina pretended to drop him from the Eiffel Tower. That’s terrifying!”

She didn’t turn around to look at Lila. Instead she looked at Adrien, who was still standing, alternating between glaring at Mme. Bustier and glancing back at her with concern in his eyes.

“And then there’s mind control Akumas, like with Miracle Queen. I’m scared of Akumas, Mme. Bustier. Even when they’re across the city, they won’t always stay there, and I want to hide. And I refuse to be ashamed of that!”

It wasn’t a lie, either. Civilian her absolutely wanted to hide—and did, just behind a mask.

She turned her attention to the teacher, keeping her back straight, remembering she had Adrien on her side, even if she wished he didn’t know—damn Bustier for that. Marinette steeled herself.

“I don’t understand why you’ve singled me out to try to imply I alone am somehow failing to perform because of Akumas, but you always seem to do this. I’m at fault for being bullied. I need to be an example and not react when my belongings are destroyed and my locker is broken into. Or when someone gets me expelled by somehow putting test answers in my bag and a new Gabriel-brand necklace—supposedly an heirloom—in my locker that’s been broken into before. I’ve spent the last year feeling I’m not allowed to have emotions. But this is the last straw.”

Marinette stood, picking up her bag. When she glanced down Tikki was giving her the Kwami version of a thumbs up.

“Frankly, Mme. Bustier, you have been toxic for my mental health for quite some time. Time I’ve spent researching to discover what you’re doing isn’t appropriate for the classroom; it’s abusive and reportable. If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to the M. Damocles, as well as my parents. And perhaps the Board of Governors, as I am no longer willing to tolerate this treatment and its continued harm to my education.”

With that, she marched down the stairs, past an open-mouthed Bustier, and out of the classroom, holding her head high.

Once in the open hallway, clear of the windows, she deflated.

“Well, fuck,” she whispered. “I guess I get to do research on a new collège, too.”

She supposed, at least, she’d been successful at diverting Bustier from the Ladybug accusations; the last thing she needed was for Ladybug-hater Lila to know and come after her.

“You and me both.”

Adrien’s voice behind her nearly made her jump out of her skin. She was relieved to see no one else had followed him. She could hear the hullaballoo of the classroom behind her, all control having been lost.

He quirked a grin. “We’re in it together, Bugaboo. As always.”

She stared, feeling like there was a hamster lolling on the wheel of her thoughts instead of running to turn it.

Adrien took her arm. “Come on. I’ll support you. Let’s go talk to M. Damocles.”

“Ch-Chat?” Marinette managed in a hiss as her brain finally caught up.

He gently guided her forward. “My Lady.”

She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh, cry, scream, or some combination of the three. But as they approached M. Damocles’ office, Marinette pushed the issue aside.

After all, she had work to do, and Ladybug didn’t leave work unfinished.

[smartspo]

All of the advice I’m going to give you in this post comes from my personal experience. If you know me in real life, or at least knew me through high school, you’d know I’m one of the most indecisive people to ever exist. During my junior and senior year, I went through this huge existential crisis and researched online about pretty much every major known to humankind, and I still couldn’t make up my mind. I went from considering an Arts-related majors, Law, Business, etc, to finally deciding on Engineering, and I’m going to tell you how I did it, and how I managed to stick to this decision and feel confident about it!

Know what you’re going through is perfectly normal

This is not practical advice, but I still wanted to put it on top of the list because I know how much distress this topic can cause. When everyone else around you seems to know exactly what they want to do with their lives, this can only mean you must be immature and not ready for university, right? Nope. Trust me, it doesn’t mean anything. Seventeen-year-olds aren’t supposed to know what they want to do with the rest of their lives, and even the ones who tell themselves they do, they are very likely to change opinions in the long run. The point is, you are not supposed to be sure of anything right now. Your major will allow you to understand in which area you’d like to work with in the future, not your exact career path. Which brings me to my next advice to keep in mind: once you decide on a major, it won’t define the rest of your life.

It isn’t a final decision

I’m enrolling for Aerospace Engineering at university this fall, but I’ve read countless stories of people who ended the course and ended up working with Finance. I also know of many Fashion designers who were originally Architecture students. The point is, despite the name slapped on the page of your major of interest, what really matters are the skills you are learning. Even though, yes, an Aerospace Engineering student will most likely want to work as an Aerospace Engineer, they will have learned many other useful skills and will be able to apply them in different career paths, if they choose to do so. This same principle applies to most majors, like English, Business, and so on (I say most because there are courses like Medicine that are rather specific on career path). Therefore, have a look through university websites and see what the alumni of your majors of interests are working on, to understand the “range” of the major.

Know your priorities

Your major doesn’t have to be the one thing you love doing above anything else, despite what people say. I’m not saying you should choose it based on which one has a higher starting salary, because I don’t think it’s right, but it’s just that sometimes, people get too obsessed with finding “their true call”. Enjoying doing what you do it’s enough and, after all, you won’t get all of your happiness in life from your career choice. If you don’t find your “true call” right now, it’s perfectly fine. Realistically, most people don’t, and they still find other ways to fulfill their life through things like hobbies, volunteering, sports, and so on, which is great. Whether or not your major is your life vocation won’t dictate if you will be happy or not. If you think you managed to find it, that’s great! But again, don’t obsess over it.

Pros and cons list

For the first practical tip, write down all of the majors that interest you, and write all the pros and cons of choosing them. It can include anything, from the location of the universities around you that offer the major, to the actual things you like and dislike about the classes you’d be taking. This will give you an overview of what major seems more “worth it” to you, despite their cons.

Dig deeper

Find out the exact classes you’d be expected to take, projects and so on. Think if it is something you would feel motivated enough to go through, something you would enjoy in the long run, or something you’re good at. The major “summaries” universities offer on their websites, while often helpful, can also be very vague and have the aim of sounding more charming to prospective students. Therefore, looking through the syllabus and other more detailed pages can be very clarifying.

Look for different opinions

When trying to make my own decision, I listened to a lot of different people. They go from teachers to people on Youtube - all kinds of opinions mattered to me. The careers counselor in my school gave me a broad idea of the majors I was interested in, other majors that I hadn’t considered before, and her opinions based on her experiences hearing from alumni who were already going through college/had graduated. I also talked with people online and in real life who were already going through the courses I was considering - what is it like? Do you enjoy it? What are the ups and downs of it?

I mentioned watching Youtube videos, which can be very helpful, but often a bit misleading as well. Through experience, I’ve learned that it’s good to hear the opinions of multiple people, because the number of frustrated graduates making videos about their majors is overwhelming. While it’s important to hear their opinions and arguments for a reality check, sometimes listening to a positive experience regarding the same major is just as important. So, if you come across a negative video on something you’re interested about, don’t feel too discouraged!

Consider taking a break

If this is a decision you’re not ready to make just yet, consider taking a semester or year off. I think the belief that everyone should be graduated by a certain age otherwise they won’t be successful is complete nonsense. All over the world, some students spend years after high school studying to pass a certain university exams, others start university right away, while others need a little more time figuring things out. Everyone is different, and that’s completely fine. You can spend your break trying to find out more about your courses of interest, through maybe taking open course classes, or gaining experience through some kind of internship. Either way, if you don’t feel confident, know you don’t need to rush!

-

I went through a really rough time trying to figure out these things for myself, but again, that doesn't mean I'm completely sure of what I want to do with the rest of my life. I learned that, sometimes, you need to figure things out as you go! Overall, I hoped I managed to ease someone's anxiety and helped them find something useful.

Good luck! 💗✨

[amjustagirl]

Chapters:  one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Summary:

Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dream.He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears echoes of the birdsong in her laugher, the songs to the gods in the wind.

(Loosely inspired by Kimi No Nawa)

Masterlist link here 

AO3 link here

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

‘It’s for my mother’s birthday’, Akaashi says, and the florist tilts her head in thought, a dimple appearing on her right cheek. 

‘What about pink carnations? They’re pretty and well within your budget’.

‘Good choice – plus it means that I’ll never forget her’ he says, nodding in approval and she bustles around to gather her materials, fingers nimbly twining tissue and ribbons around the blooms. 

‘Oh - ’, he begins to say in surprise when he notices she’s included a bunch of baby’s breath in the little bouquet, because a university student’s budget only stretches that much. 

‘Don’t worry, it’s on the house’, she hastily reassures him, her curly hair bouncing as she shakes her head. ‘I just thought it’s sweet you’re buying flowers for your mother.

‘Thanks.’ He smiles at her. She grins back and promptly trips over her own feet as she hands the bouquet over to him. ‘Watch out’, he calls, reaching over the counter to grab her elbow in an attempt to steady her.

‘Sorry! That’s so clumsy of me. Um – I’ve been meaning to ask you for some time, but would you like to grab coffee with me someday?’ she asks, cheeks flushing as pink as the flowers in his arms. 

‘Oh’, he says, dumbstruck. ‘I – uh’ 

She must read the hesitation in his face because she shakes her head self-deprecatingly, saving him from floundering awkwardly. ‘Sorry! I don’t know what came over me – please forget I ever said that!’ Then she bows and ushers him out of the store, waves away his apologies with a laugh and calls after him to ‘please come again!’ 

His mother fusses over him when he presents his bouquet of carnations to her, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek. ‘Why does it look like university is treating you so badly?

‘I’m fine, mum’, he tries to distract her with a hug, but she’s having none of that. 

‘Are you really, Keiji?’, his mother asks, lips pursed. ‘I know my son well enough to know he’s not sleeping well’. 

‘I try’, he offers, but he knows his excuse falls flat when she sniffs. He’s so irredeemably busy with school work and internship that sleep is practically the last item on his list of priorities and things to do and tasks at hand, but he knows if he breathes a word about the amount of work on his plate, his mother would nag him relentlessly until she’s convinced he’s taking care of himself again

So honed by years of dealing with Bokuto-san, he switches tactics to diversion. ‘So mum, tell me how auntie managed to talk Yuji-kun into going on blind dates?’ His mum brightens and immediately turns her mind to her favourite nephew’s dismal love life. 

But his mother insists on him staying over that night, so he finds himself staring at the ceiling of his old bedroom, in a bed that suddenly feels too small for the worries that adulthood is cramming into his head. He’s patient, counting the spaces between his breaths but sleep eludes him and he sits up, determined to sneak in more work at the very least.  

He tucks a pencil behind his ear, ready to get cracking on his thesis when he tilts his seat too far on the back two legs of his chair and loses his balance, falling onto the floor with a thump. ‘Damnit’, he curses quietly, hoping the noise doesn’t startle his mother awake, but from his vantage point on the floor, he can see the omamori he inexplicably refused to throw away on New Year’s Day hanging on the bars of his windowsill. 

‘What are you doing here’, he mutters, untying the charm and running his thumb along its fraying seams. The charm obviously does not respond - it’s an inanimate object after all, but for some reason, he slips it in his pocket when he returns to the dorm when morning comes. 

The frequency of his dreams starts to increase. 

He’s back in her body, curled up under a pine tree on a cool autumn day. 

‘I can’t believe you convinced me to spend an afternoon running around like a forest nymph when we could be studying to ace your exams’.  There is a tinge of disdain in his words because he  knows  her grades are better than decent, though they’d be better if only she’d spend more time on her books instead of flower fields. 

‘Aww, a nymph? Someone’s feeling extra poetic today’, she teases lightly. 

‘Don’t try distracting me from the fact that you really should be studying’, he insists, displeased. 

‘I do study’  she protests, but he hums disbelievingly, the spectre of Waseda’s devilishly difficult entrance exam looming in his mind. 

‘Not enough to get into a decent university at this rate.’

‘I don’t want to go to university, Keiji, I’ve tried telling you this before’, she sighs. 

‘You don’t?’ 

‘Nope’  she responds, popping the word in her mouth. ‘I just want to sell flowers to people someday, is that so bad? It’s simple - they make people happy, and that makes me happy in turn. If we only have a lifetime to spend on this earth, shouldn’t we pursue what truly brings us joy instead of dreams others impose on us?’

‘ I suppose that makes sense’, he says, sounding vaguely convinced.

‘Course it does’, she responds easily, a smile flickering in her voice. ‘I always make sense. Now. Let’s not squabble, it’s my turn to tell you a story today’. 

So he listens, enthralled despite himself, as she spins tales of the Kodama, tree spirits dwelling in the ancient forest, how her mother taught her to always offer a prayer to the gods before chopping down a tree - and if the tree bleeds, to back away because it means it has a Kodama living, breathing within it. 

‘Are they real?’  he asks her, when she finishes a tale of a  Kodama who assumed human form after falling in love with a maiden blessed with cherry blossoms in her cheeks.

‘Of course they are’  she laughs. ‘If you close your eyes and listen carefully, you can hear them sing. ’

He closes his eyes, but the forest remains eerily still. ‘ I don’t hear anything, ’ he says, disbelief colouring his tone. 

‘Maybe it’s because they know you don’t really believe in them yet.’

He wakes up with the scent of pine in his nose, the lingering touch of grass against the soles of his feet. 

‘Electricity is a fickle beast in this household, so the first thing you need to do when you come home is to light the fire in the irori. Even Toya-chan knows how to do that, and he’s eight!’  

He stares balefully at the sunken hearth lined with stone and filled with ash, situated right in the center of the old house.  ‘This is a fire hazard’, he tells her stubbornly. 

‘Fire is life, you spoilt city boy! It only becomes dangerous if you don’t respect it. Now come on, or you’ll end up freezing to death and I won’t be able to save you. I always keep a lighter in my pocket and in the store room there’s coal and if really necessary, some petrol I flinched from the petrol station – ‘

‘You better make sure the teachers don’t find your lighter and think you’ve been smoking – ‘ he interjects and she continues as if she doesn’t hear him. 

‘So you light the fire and hang the kettle from the iron hook, and voila! You can cook porridge or soup if electricity runs out and you can’t rely on the rice cooker or stove. And when the night is too cold to sleep in your room, you can drag your futon out here for warmth. It’s kinda nice, almost like camping. Now, let’s see you try lighting a fire yourself!’ 

Her fingers are thin and nimble, but they’re unfamiliar implements to him, so he fumbles with arranging the coal and scrap paper around damp wood. He has to resort to using a drip of petrol to coax the damp wood to ignite in flames but he counts it as a triumph anyway as fire dances in the sunken hearth.  

He can hear her cheer – ‘Congrats city boy!’ Ignoring the implied insult in her words, he smiles. 

He’s back in her skin again when her voice echoes in his mind. 

‘Y’know you’re not gonna be able to learn how to put on a bra if you don’t open your eyes when doing it right?’  she says, amusement ripe in her voice. ‘Every girl has tits, Keiji . If it makes you feel better, I’ve seen your dick ’. 

‘What?’ he yelps, eyes still stubbornly closed. 

‘How else was I supposed to use the urinals? Goodness, being a guy is so convenient when it comes to peeing, you just point and shoot - ’

‘Right, that’s too much information, thanks’, he huffs. 

‘Well, you’re gonna make me late for school if you don’t open your eyes’’, she sing songs, and he knows she’s banking on his reverence for punctuality and perfect attendance records to get him to look in the mirror, but he’s not sure it outweighs his mother’s lessons of being a gentleman.  

‘Keiji-kun ’, she says again, amused. ‘I do appreciate that you’re trying to protect my modesty, but those rules don’t really apply when we’re in a situation like this, you know? If it makes you feel better, I give you explicit permission to look at my breasts when strictly necessary.’

‘Can you not say it like that’, he grouses before cracking an eye open, somewhat persuaded, and somehow manages to snap the tiny hooks in place. ‘Bras are like torture devices’. 

‘Don’t I know it’, she chuckles.  ‘Be glad you only have to put up with it every once in a while’. 

He snorts, more comfortable once some semblance of her modesty is secured. ‘I’ll count my blessings then’. Twisting at the waist to zip up her skirt, his breath catches at a glimpse of freckles on her back in the mirror. He forgets he’s still standing in front of the mirror as his fingers idly ghost over the constellation, a spray of stardust on bare skin. 

‘Keiji ?’ she asks, confused. 

‘Sorry!’, he startles. ‘It’s just - I never noticed you had freckles on your back before.’

‘Yes - I’m aware I have them, and?’, she replies archly, and the irony that she’s completely fine with him staring at her breasts but not her back does not elude him, but he holds his tongue. 

‘They’re arranged in my favourite constellation’, he tells her honestly and he’s relived to hear her chuckle again. 

‘I’ll show you the real thing next time’, she promises, before switching seamlessly to berate him -  ‘And you can stop staring at my back now, we’re gonna be late for school! ’

The next day is spent wondering if he’s a creep for dreaming about half naked sixteen year old girls – even if there’s nothing remotely sexual about his dream. 

He sees her run through the woods like a fawn discovering spring for the first time, watches her come to a stop at an open clearing framed by trees. There is a shrine in the center of the clearing, cracked and covered in moss, but she approaches it reverently, dropping to her knees. 

‘There is old magic in this shrine’, she whispers, brushing leaves and branches away before laying her omamori down at the altar. ‘ Do you remember the wish you made? ’ 

‘I wished for more time - I got greedy and asked for yesterday to come again ’, he answers, voice hushed. 

‘And I wished for the exact opposite. I got impatient and asked tomorrow to arrive, as fast as it can ’, she replies, tilting her face up to the sun. 

‘I suppose that’s what happened ’, he says. ‘Our wishes got tangled up, and our bodies and souls got thrown through time and space’. 

‘Hm. Do you think we have souls, Keiji? ’ she asks him.

‘Yes  ’, he says, sounding perplexed. ‘What else would we be swapping?’  

‘What colour d’you think your soul is? ’ It’s a strange question, but he’s used to anticipating the unexpected from her. 

‘Blue. It reminds me of the summer sky ’, he replies.

‘Fitting’, she laughs with a cheeky grin on her face. ‘Since the sky is a star’s domain’. 

‘What about you’, he asks, so accustomed to ignoring her teasing about Bokuto-san. ‘What colour do you think your soul is?’

‘Yellow, I hope ’, she says dreamily. ‘It’s warmth and life - like flames lighting up wintry nights, or daffodils on the first day of spring’ .

He wonders if it’s a coincidence that the strange dreams hit him in full force right after he brings back the omamori. 

But Kenma’s right, he’s become strangely addicted to the narrative his dreams are showing him. It’s like the books he snuck under the covers at night, emerging bleary eyed in the morning because he was intent on seeing the story end. And if he’s being completely honest with himself, it makes him feel like that he - quiet, bookish Akaashi Keiji is the protagonist in the Ghibli movies that Bokuto-san makes him watch, so he doesn’t put up a fight against the dreams that re-invade his sleep.

Taglist: 

@1tooru @kageyamakock @animeflower26 @underrated-fruit-tarts-official @bongofrito

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

did anyone else feel like everything in uni was just.... too much to handle???? like do this internship! do this extra curricular program! and this one and this one and this one!!!! all to prove how involved you are!!! build all your soft skills and hard skills and professional brand/identity now!!! what are you doing????? dicking around like that????? you have no time to dick around!!!!! DO IT NOW??!!! WHERES YOUR LINKEDIN??? WHERE ARE YOUR AND WHAT ARE YOUR CAREER GOALS AND YOUR CAREER ROADMAP????!!! WHY DONT YOU CARE ABOUT ENTREPRENEURSHIP AND BEING INNOVATIVE???? OH BY THE WAY WHERE ARE YOUR ASSIGNMENTS ON TOP OF ALL THIS OTHER BS YOU’RE MEANT TO DO AND CARE ABOUT????!!!!!

like bro you’re causing me and probably everyone else to have mental breakdowns and feel like failures if they don’t do all these things all at once at uni. sorry i couldn’t manage an internship bc i only got my licence after i graduated???? sorry that i felt like those programs would take too much energy out of me???? sorry i forgot to turn in all those bs personal reflections you wanted me to have done for that extra curricular program that i signed up for where i never got hired for any of the positions i applied for anyway???? sorry i don’t give a fuck about my professional image and how to set up a personal brand i have no fucking energy left to give a flying fucking fuck about it. why the fuck does it even matter??? and fuck your entrepreneurship and innovation/hustle lifestyle bs spiels! why the fuck am i supposed to care about these????? when my mental health is so fucking depleted that i had a panic attack to the point of throwing up in the bathroom over making my linkedin account and being a “budding professional”???? why don’t my studies count as being involved on campus???? because they’re literally all i can fucking handle, just barely???? like how much fucking energy and time do you think i fucking have???? thanks for your fake ass mental health events that don’t really work either. just fuck why can’t i dick around like you’re really supposed to do at uni???? how the fuck else am i meant to relax if i’m always meant to be thinking about hustling and all that bullshit??? hello???? why will no one answer me???? fuck you.

like obvs i know people will react to this with comments such as: “that’s why and how you’re meant to learn time management at uni!!! look at all the cute study hacks on tiktok to help you ☺️!” and “that’s how you learn how to handle multiple workloads and deadlines and stuff!!” or “that’s how college/uni simulates the real world of employment!!! if you can’t deal with this at college/uni maybe you should’ve just dropped out and realised that you needed to toughen up princess!!!” or whatever else. but y’all. like it was chronic. i was always tired. always burnt out. i felt like i had no time to “find myself “ or whatever the trope or expectation of uni is supposed to be. instead i was just hammered, to what felt like death, with “be entrepreneurial and grind/hustle your way to the top every day!!!! only care about your professional image and brand! everyone has one! do 10 internships today to prove your eligibility/validity and motivation to employers so you get into a grad program!!! hustle hustle hustle! innovate innovate innovate! where are your start up ideas to fix the entire world in a day???? here’s all these never ending deadlines for 50+ extracurriculars that you HAVE to meet otherwise you won’t get the award for these programs officially to show employers!” etc etc etc. but it honestly felt like so, so, so much to do and i felt guilty because i felt like i had absolutely no interest in half of the ECs, let alone, even the “required marks” (because more than half of the ECs at my uni required at least a 75 or distinction average) to get into like mentor high school kids or idek do a business incubator program or whatever the bullshit EC program options were.

and that above is not even counting the reflections that you had to do to say “yeah i did this program and i felt it was good and i learnt A/B/C about myself through this program so it’s defs enhanced my employability skills” to even be considered to be taking part in the program. it was all too fucking much on too little time and i fucking hated it. and that’s besides the point that i was focussing solely on all the employability workshops for my “career” and got literally fucking nothing out of them. like why can’t uni just be a time to dick around and find yourself, instead of doing useless fucking employability circus bullshit and hearing time and time again about the “entrepreneurial mindset” and how to “never turn off your brain for innovation and the hustle to be ahead of everyone else???? hurry up and have a side hustle like tutoring to show just how much initiative you have!!!!!” like i just don’t understand how my advanced diploma, my undergrad arts degree, and my albeit short lived and failed attempt at my postgrad degree dont show ENOUGH initiative to employers. i fucking hate it.

and i also i understand that me complaining about this after the fact (and also while i was at uni from 2015-2018/doing postgrad in 2019) can be seen as “oh you were just too lazy to get yourself together and grow up! typical millennial/gen z! too selfish to grow up and be part of the big, bad adult world!” but y’all. there needs to be more down time for students and less of a push to be “entrepreneurial” and all that bullshit during uni/college; so you’re not pushed to your absolute limits at uni til you have a mental breakdown and drop out/defer for a semester or a year. and that’s besides the fact that even in my fucking 3 month breaks at the end of every year i was actually BUYING my texts or textbooks early and doing some of my readings (books) MONTHS ahead of time and MONTHS ahead of even knowing the revised sets of texts (because half the time i bought them so early that i hd no idea that the prof had taken like 4 diff books off some courses and replaced them w/ other books instead for example) so i really had no proper downtime anyway. like i was utterly run off of my feet and i was burnt the fuck out every fucking year of my undergrad degree and also my postgrad and also business college in 2014; which was at least 50+ page assignments every fucking week. like that should count as initiative to employers.... but apparently it fucking doesn’t??? im fucking sick of y’all what the actual fuck do you want????

[homeformyheart]

the perfect gift (part 1) - noah harris x mc (mtfl)

author’s note: the idea of noah of hearing how proud his dad is of him and how important emma is to him just came to me randomly in the car and it’s the fastest fic i’ve ever written (~5 hours)! this is considered a sequel/follow-up to first choice and takes place about 3 years after. noah’s roommate “sean” is “sean gayle” from endless summer 😊.

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. series/pairing: my two first loves - noah harris x mc (emma price) rating/warnings: 18+; swearing, descriptions of drinking, smoking; smut will come in part 2 word count: 3k based on/prompt: gift for day 14 of choices september challenge summary: emma spent months carefully planning noah’s 21st birthday gift and drove up to surprise him at hartfeld for the weekend, but things go south after a big fight makes them both reevaluate their relationship after three years together. 

read first choice to learn how they got together in the first place.

the perfect gift (part 1)

emma locked the car, put the keys in the ignition, and turned on the radio. she rested her forehead on her hands that were gripping the steering wheel as the fight replayed itself in her mind and she heard noah’s hurtful words on repeat. she closed her eyes and let the tears fall, her body shaking with sobs.

emma walked down the hallway toward her boyfriend’s apartment with a spring in her step, a large package hidden in a shopping bag swinging with each step. it was the last suite on the floor but even halfway there she could hear loud music blasting from inside. she wasn’t aware they were having a party, but she figured she would still be able to surprise noah for his birthday. she spent months putting together the perfect gift for him and was excited to give it to him. she felt a slight twinge of guilt for lying to him about not being able to visit this weekend and blowing off his texts and phone calls today but only so she didn’t accidentally let her plans slip.

she knocked on the door and one of his roommates greeted her before pointing toward the balcony. the apartment was packed and already reeked of both beer and fruit juice, half full cans and empty plastic cups littered almost every available surface, including the beer pong table set up near the balcony. she used the key noah gave her at the beginning of the year to drop off the shopping bag with his present in his room, locking the door behind her before going to find him. he was standing over the railing with his back to the balcony door, but emma easily recognized the leather jacket and bounced excitedly over.

she stood on her tiptoes to put her hands over his eyes and said excitedly, “guess who?”

instead of guessing, noah pulled her hands down and turned around. “you didn’t tell me you were coming. i thought you were busy today,” he said, his voice neutral and his face stoic.

“i wanted to surprise you for your birthday! come on, don’t look too happy to see me,” she teased, nudging him playfully.

noah didn’t even smile. the excitement emma felt up to that point quickly changed to a combination of dread and worry. “what’s wrong, babe?”

“i thought you had better things to do than spend your weekends driving 8 hours roundtrip to spend a day and a half here? you shouldn’t have come,” he said, looking away and chugging down the rest of the beer in his hand.

emma finally noticed how dilated his pupils were and the smell of beer and whiskey radiating off him. noah never got this drunk, especially before they had a chance to talk on the phone to say goodnight. she couldn’t help but wonder if he got drunk because she blew him off today after telling him she wouldn’t be visiting.

“i thought you’d be happy to see me. you know the best parts of my week are when i get to spend time with you. i was hoping to surprise you for birthday and I have the most amazing gift for you!” emma said carefully, trying to keep the mood light.

noah didn’t respond right away, taking out a cigarette and lighting it first. emma frowned; noah knew she hated it when he smoked and he had promised her he wouldn’t make a habit of it and that he wouldn’t smoke in front of her. something was definitely wrong.

she crossed her arms over her chest. “what is going on with you?”

“you want to know what’s going on? here’s what’s going on – you’re wasting your time with me. there is no point in being in a long-distance relationship where we see each other once or twice a month if we’re lucky and we’re both pursuing potential careers that will make it so we see each other even less,” noah spat out angrily, turning away to take a long drag of his cigarette before continuing.

“what kind of loser spends their time in college driving 400 miles roundtrip to spend time with a deadbeat? you should be making friends and having the time of your life, maybe even dating someone who can better provide for you. you deserve so much more. why are you wasting your time with me?” noah turned back toward her, his eyes blazing with anger.

tears started to fill emma’s eyes. she had no idea what triggered noah’s outburst but knew she couldn’t have a rational conversation with him while he was drunk. “i’ve never felt like i was wasting my time with you. every moment we have makes me so happy i feel like i must be dreaming! i don’t know what is really bothering you that you’re lashing out like this, noah, but you’re drunk. let’s go to bed and talk tomorrow when you’re sober.”

“no, emma,” noah took a final drag and threw the cigarette on the floor, putting it out with his foot. “i don’t think we should talk tomorrow. i think you should go back. i’m sorry you wasted your time driving down here.”

emma watched the sparks disappear from the cigarette before responding, her voice barely louder than the noise from the party inside, “you don’t mean that. if i leave, you’re telling me our three-year relationship is over.”

she gave him a longing look, willing him to apologize and take back what he said. he looked back at her and emma saw only a glimpse of the sweet and sensitive noah she fell in love with three years ago. the noah in front of her looked at her with a broken and haunted look in his eyes. a split-second later, his gaze hardened and he shrugged.

emma had made her way out of the apartment as fast as she could and ran to her car. she was still sobbing uncontrollably 20 minutes later but at least her body wasn’t shaking as much. she was wracking her brain, thinking back to the last few months to see if she could figure out where and when things went wrong. they did feel a bit more distant as football, midterms, and applying for internships kept them preoccupied but emma didn’t think it was a problem; they were still able to see each other at least once a month and they talked daily. they had similar fights and conversations during freshman and sophomore year, when insecurities about making a long-distance relationship work and trusting each other were more prominent. but after making it through all that, emma thought they were stronger than ever.

she grabbed tissues from her glovebox and cleaned herself up. she leaned back against the seat, closed her eyes, and tried to take deep breaths to calm herself down. everything he had said felt like a dagger to her heart but what hurt the most was the way he exploded at her. he was always really good about bringing up his insecurities about their long-distance relationship and his concern for the toll it might take on her in a productive way. they agreed they wouldn’t push each other away but talk through any problems calmly like adults. and he did the exact opposite.

it was already late when she arrived at hartfeld and it would be really late by the time she got back to her own dorm. but going back to noah’s apartment was out of the question. she debated whether she should stay in the parking lot a little longer on the off chance that noah would come to his senses and come after her, however small a chance that was. she was rational enough to know that it likely wouldn’t happen given how drunk he was, and the later she stayed, the more tired and emotional she would be during the drive back, and she didn’t want to risk getting into an accident. she took one last look at the lack of new messages on her phone, lingering on the photo of her and noah at the beach as her wallpaper before turning the key in the ignition.

* * * * * noah groaned at the bright sunlight streaming through the window of his room. his head was pounding and his body felt like he had lost a boxing match outdoors in 90-degree heat. he struggled to open his eyes and immediately regretted it when the sunlight nearly blinded him and seemed to amplify his headache. he couldn’t remember the last time he had been this hungover. certainly not since before he and emma became serious. oh god, emma.

he bolted upright in his bed, wincing at the sharp pain in his head and tried to rapidly blink away the dizziness he felt. he chugged the pedialyte and took the ibuprofen that was on his bedside table and forced himself to look around the room for his phone. the battery was dead. just great, he thought, plugging it quickly into the charger. he slowly stood up, trying to keep his nausea at bay, and grabbed his shower caddy. it surprised him how handy it was, especially considering he shared a bathroom with two other people, and couldn’t help but smile as he remembered how cute emma was when she was explaining why it was important for him to have his own caddy while they were picking out things he’d need for the apartment at uskea before school started.

he could feel the ibuprofen working to alleviate some of his headache, but knew he’d need to eat something too. noah stood still under the shower, letting the hot water run over his hair and face and down his body for a few minutes, trying to collect his thoughts and remember the events from last night. bits and pieces kept coming back to him while he got dressed and made himself a sandwich but he still wasn’t sure if what he remembered had actually happened or if he was replaying the “what if” scenarios about why it felt like emma was distancing herself from him. these scenarios had been going through his mind before the party and was the primary driver for how drunk he got.

“look who’s finally up after his crazy birthday rager! happy birthday! how you feelin’ man?” his roommate and football teammate sean came over and gave him a hard slap on the back.

noah flinched and swallowed before answering, “like crap. i’d forgotten what it felt like to be hungover.”

“i’m sure emma’ll take good care of you. is she up yet?” sean asked, turning away to set up the coffee maker.

noah felt his stomach drop. “emma? she told me she couldn’t come this weekend, too much stuff to do,” he replied apprehensively. please let it just have been a dream, he begged inwardly as he held his breath waiting for sean’s reaction.

sean gave him a quizzical look. “she was definitely here last night. i let her into the apartment and told her where you were hanging out on the balcony. she even had a present with her. maybe she stepped out before you woke up?”

that meant the nightmare fight he had with emma wasn’t a dream. shit. he heard her voice in his head say, “if i leave, you’re telling me our three-year relationship is over” and everything came flooding back to him. “no, no, no, crap! i think i fucked up last night. i need to call her.”

noah closed the door to his room behind him and picked up his phone. he saw that he had a single, new text message from emma timestamped at 1pm, two hours before he got up:

[emma: happy birthday]

his thumb hovered over the picture of her smiling face he used as her contact photo in his phone. maybe i’m misremembering, maybe if i explain i was so drunk i don’t even remember what i said she’ll forgive me. he dialed her number and held his breath as he waited for the familiar dialing sound to start, but it didn’t. instead he heard her automated voicemail and hung up. he tried to send a text but it was clear that she had blocked his number. he put his head in his hands and let the tears he felt prickling behind his eyes fall silently. what have i done?

after a few minutes, he wiped his tears and looked around his room. he saw what was probably the present sean mentioned and picked it up off the floor. the box was at least as wide as his laptop and maybe just as heavy, wrapped perfectly in bright pink, sparkly wrapping paper. noah chuckled softly; emma always did like trying to embarrass him. he unwrapped the paper carefully, folding it neatly and tucking it away in his bedside drawer before opening the box to reveal a beautiful leather-bound scrapbook, a card, and an envelope. he picked up the envelope first, since it seemed out of place, carefully cutting through the seal on the envelope and unfolding the letter inside.

[dear emma,

i’m sorry for the delay in writing back to you. thank you for the beautiful scrapbook you sent. i was so overwhelmed and grateful to you for reaching out and ashamed that i wasn’t enough of a man to write to my own son. not a day goes by that i don’t think about him and his siblings and it’s wonderful to see and hear about how well he’s doing. it’s clear that you care very much for him and that he must be someone special to you.

please tell him how proud i am of the man he’s become. despite having a deadbeat father who can’t hold down a job and needs alcohol to numb the pain, noah has really done well for himself. i am so proud of him – seeing those photos of him playing football in high school and college and those of the two of you together made me really happy.

one day i hope to be worthy to be in his life again, but until then, thank you again for bringing joy back into my life and showing me what a wonderful man my son has become. if it isn’t too much trouble, i have also included a photo that i would like you to give to him – it’s one of my favorite memories of him as a kid. i hope he treats you as the treasure you are and keeps you close. it’s special and rare to have that kind of love and support in your life and you both mustn’t take it for granted.

i move frequently due to work so please do not send anything else to this address.]

it was signed with his father’s signature. noah blinked rapidly a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. even though the letter was addressed to emma, noah understood the message was intended for him. he pulled the photo out of the envelope and his eyes widened with recognition. his dad had taken him to a boxing gym and taught him how to wrap his hands and the photo was of them sparring after. given how harsh his dad was when he was a kid, noah was surprised that he would hold on to a photo like this. he opened the card next.

[hiiii babe~

noah traced her familiar handwriting with his finger. emma drew little hearts instead of the dot on top of the letter “i”; it was a habit she kept since high school for when she wrote him letters and notes after he told her once that he thought it was cute.

i can’t believe you’re turning 21! you’re practically an old man 😉 kidding! not a day goes by where i don’t miss your sexy, brooding face and your cute butt. your personality too, I guess ;P. i hope you get everything you wanted today because you deserve all of it and more! you’re the best boyfriend a girl could ask for (and even after 3 years together, i still can’t believe i’m your first choice) and i can’t wait to celebrate with you!

i love you with all my heart <3

your first choice, emma

p.s. there are two parts to your present! the first is a scrapbook with photos of my favorite memories of us and the second is a letter i got from your dad (please don’t be mad). it took me a while to track him down, but i did and sent a similar scrapbook to him too. i wasn’t sure if he would respond to me, but he did and i wanted to share what he said with you.

p.p.s. i love you!]

noah froze and re-read emma’s card. she sent her dad a scrapbook? to say he was stunned was an understatement. he wasn’t sure how to feel about hearing from his dad for the first time in over a decade but he definitely wouldn’t have been mad at emma. in fact, he felt the opposite – overwhelmed with love for the amazing woman whose kind and honest heart continued to surprise him even after three years together.

he opened the scrapbook and found page after page of pictures emma had taken throughout their relationship, with handwritten captions and little sticker notes all over the pages. he felt a lump form in his throat and his eyes sting as he looked at the photos of her smiling face and the selfies they had taken on various dates. how could he have pushed her away like that last night? he quickly repacked the box and put it inside his backpack, which always had a weekends’ worth of essentials. he grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone before heading out to where his motorcycle was parked. he still felt like crap but it didn’t matter, he needed to apologize in person and prove to emma that she was still his first choice. he only hoped she would be able to forgive him.

* * * * * mentions: @khoicesbyk​; @nyastarlight​; @chetachisblog;  @robintora; @shows-simp-card; @brycesgirl;

[royallyprincesslilly]

Question i just graduated with my associates degree. Its a general degree, I was not sure what I wanted to do. But I finally decided to focus on psychology but its super confusing trying to get started. Any suggestions?

Hii,

First, congratulations on getting your degree and deciding your career path!!! 🥳 That’s exciting. 

You’re right. It is confusing which way to go. Psychology is such a broad field, and so many routes you can go. For instances, a few you can go into:

-Clinical Psychology (Psychiatrist)

-Sports Psychology

-Industrial/Organizational Psychology

-Neuropsychology

-Engineering Psychology

-Counseling Psychology 

-School Psychology (Guidance Counselor etc.)

-Forensic Psychology

-Mental Health Counseling (MHC)

-Addiction Counseling

-Marriage and Family Counseling/Therapy (MFT)

-Sex Psychology (Sexologist)

The list really can go on. 😩 One thing I found dope about Psychology was with knowledge in the field; you are usually qualified for a range of different positions because of the broad spectrum of things you learn.

One thing to keep in mind is none of these routes are easy, and they can be as quick as you make them/can handle.

I would first figure out which road of Psychology interests you.

If you feel like you’re the happiest learning a very broad scope of concepts of counseling and theories that you can use in a clinical setting with seeing patients in a practice, clinic, or hospit and assessing, diagnosing, then treating and preventing a variety of mental illnesses, maybe Clinical Psychology would be a good fit.

If you find you enjoy narrowing the scope a bit and concentrating on a particular demographic, like helping families and children or even couples using the same scope of concepts and theories, then maybe MFT is a good fit.

If sex theories and concepts interest you and figuring out how human beings relate to sex and how that connection can be understood through psychology and how we can help couples or singles on a sexual avenue, then Sex psychology (sexologist) might be it.

Take a look at what’s important to you right now. Answer these questions:

Why did you decide on psychology? 

What do you hope to help or fix with learning in the field? 

Your ideal career and life 10 years down the road, what does it look like?

Does the thought of a lot of hard work, sleepless nights, canceling events with friends and family, dedicating hundreds of hours possibly for internships and residencies make you weary?

Hopefully, from these answers, you will be able to narrow down the different subfields that interest you. When you narrow them down from there, dig deeper into the educational requirements and commitments needed to accomplish a degree and then the career possibilities, including earning potential and then if it applies to your chosen field, licensing for your state or the state you plan on living/practicing within in the future.

Back in the day, a Bachelors in Psych could have gotten you so far, but the scales shift so much, and even from last year, those scales are different. In some careers, a Bachelors will get you a decent living, but of course, the higher the degree, the more windows and doors open up.

My mentor said when he began, he thought he’d just stop at bachelors because it was good enough, but he moved to a masters and then took the path of getting a doctorate because he eventually realized he wanted to teach while running a practice in the times he’s not teaching to give himself flexibility as well as an edge with money. 

I hope this doesn’t scare you off, because it is not what I want to do. I didn’t get a mentor I vibed with until I’d had my associates and bachelors in two different things because I was afraid and worried about psychology's future as a viable way to make a living. I wish I would have had someone to be brutally honest with me. It would have focused me sooner instead of me getting 2 more unnecessary degrees if I had only had that directed focus.

I also recommend finding your people, such as a mentor and or, like-minded individuals studying the same thing. This helps so much because if and when you start having to cancel things because you really have 70 pages to read before the next class and a 20-page psych paper on the most boring aspect of Piaget’s Theory of Development😭, you will have a group of people who understand and are in the same boat and even someone motivating you.

There is plenty more advice, but I don’t wanna give you too much info all at once. Let me know if you wanna know more.

You should be excited. Psychology is a lot of fun and so enlightening. You literally start looking at people and the world a lot differently. 

Good luck, darling.❤🖤

Also, there are a few psych majors on here, and I know they also have advice. I’m going to tag Amber on here. 

@dramaqueeenamby 

[storiesbymads]

ONE WEEK DOWN, A LIFETIME TO GO ² ( the internship . )

Y/N just got an internship at her childhood best friend’s brother’s company. The same brother who has no idea they’ve even met before. 

general warnings: smut, age gap (8 years), angst

add yourself to the taglist + series masterlist

Friday could not have rolled around any sooner. Despite your first day being somewhat slow, this internship was kicking your ass. It was almost embarrassing the amount of times you’d forced JJ to sit down and watch New Girl with you--it was your only stress reliever save for a nice warm cup of chamomile tea. The two of you had managed to surge through more than a season and a half since the week started. JJ’d even gotten good about brewing you a cup of tea before you walked through the door. 

“Last day until freedom,” you said quietly to yourself as you made your way out of the apartment, careful not to wake JJ. Even if he had been waking up earlier recently you knew he would give you hell when you got home if you woke him up before 10. 

The highway had, thankfully, been mostly empty on your way to the office so you ended up at the office a good few minutes earlier than usual. Jesse seemed to be the only other person in the building. 

“Morning, Mr. Maybank,” you said as you shuffled into his office, ready to take whatever assignments he had laid out for the day. He nodded as a response, grabbing a stack of files from the corner of his desk like he’d done the days prior and handing them over. 

“Morning, Miss Y/L/N. I sent everything else you need to your computer,” he said. You noticed how he’d failed to make eye contact with you since you stepped in the room. That couldn’t be a good sign. 

“Great! Thank you!” you said. You hoped you sounded peppy enough but it was 5:30 in the morning and you’d yet to have a single sip of caffeine. Another nod from his end sent you on your way. You dropped off the files at your desk before making your way to the small kitchen a few doors over. 

You still remembered how Jesse’s hand felt pressed up against your waist. The contact only lasted for maybe a second but it’d sent your mind reeling. It was the only thing you could think about when you came to get coffee every morning. You always subconsciously checked to see if your garter belt was showing, too. Even if you were wearing pants. 

Just a few more hours, you reminded yourself. Just a few more hours and then you’d be able to forget all about Jesse Maybank for two whole days. 

The other interns came into the office about ten minutes after you sat down. A guy named Lance was the last to file into your designated room, shutting the door behind him. Surprisingly, you’d been pretty good about remembering the other interns' names. At least the ones you shared an office with. 

Scout, the one who’d brought you coffee on Monday, went to college out in California but flew out here every summer just for this internship. She’d even invested in a condo ten minutes away from the office for her to stay in during the summer. She was probably the only one that made an effort to talk to you out of the group. You were just glad you had someone to gossip with at lunch. 

Lance, the entirely too cocky fraternity boy who sat next to you, went to college somewhere in Alabama and stayed with his parents here during the summers for this internship. You think he mentioned something about a place called Mobile? Either way, he was probably the one you’d conversed the least with. 

The last person crammed into the tiny office was a quiet girl named Marcie who you swore you had never heard speak before. The only reason you even knew her name was because of Scout. And even she didn’t know that much about her after working with her for two years. 

There were two other offices just like yours crammed with three or four interns each. Scout claimed she knew each and every one of them but you knew you’d never seen any of them leave their respective rooms save for lunch hour or to grab a coffee. You’re not even sure you could identify any of them as someone you slightly recognized. 

You hadn’t even realized that the rest of the interns in your office had left until you scooted your tiny roller chair back to stretch out your back. You faintly recalled glancing at the door as Lance stepped out but you figured he was just going to grab something out of the kitchen. Glancing at the bottom right hand corner of your desktop, you noticed the black 7:13pm staring back at you. Had you really managed to stay two hours late without noticing? Looks like you missed lunch too. Jesus, you really should not have pushed off all your work for the last day. 

A knock on the frosted glass door pulled you out of your thoughts before you saw the door creak open slowly. You saw Jesse standing there with a bag that looked to be filled with some sort of takeout. You suddenly became hyper aware of how little food was in your system. He offered a smile through the partially open door. At least he was making eye contact with you now. 

“I noticed that you were still here before I went out to get dinner,” he said. “I figured you’d be hungry.”

“Thank you! I am. I actually just realized I skipped lunch,” you said with a nervous laugh as he moved further into the office to set the bag of food down. He pulled up a chair from one of the other desks so that he was sitting next to you at yours. You hoped he couldn’t pick up on how incredibly fast your heart was beating. 

“You’re gonna eat in here?” you asked him. Part of you was happy he chose to spend any time with you at all. This was probably the longest amount of time you’d spent in the same room since you were in elementary school--save for Monday of course. Another part of you was terrified. You’d already been embarrassed enough at the beginning at the week. 

“Yeah, why?” he asked, pulling various cartons of chinese food out of the bag. 

“Just curious…” you trailed off, grabbing a random box as well as one of the sets of chopsticks. The two of you ate in silence for a while--horribly awkward silence that made you want to rip your hair out--until you noticed you had emptied your box of vegetables while you’d been staring at the wall. This really took the cake for the most uncomfortable meal of your life. 

“Rough day?” he asked, still poking at whatever he’d chosen as he watched you dump your empty box back into the white takeout bag. He noticed you wince slightly as you lifted your arm. He was right. It had been a rough day. 

“You would know,” you let out a dry laugh. “You’re the one that assigned me all the work.”

“I apologize about that,” he said. You could see the amusement that danced behind his eyes. 

“No, no. It’s fine,” you sputtered out. “I’m the one that applied to be here.”

“Still,” he started. “It’s only your first week. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staying later than everyone else. You work later every day but it seems like you’re gonna be here for a while.”

“I mean, it’s whatever,” you said trying to force down the heat that rose to your cheeks. 

“It’s not whatever. I’ve been very happy with all the work you’ve done so far. How about I repay you for your time?” he said, gesturing for you to stand up. Hesitantly, you stood up from the chair only for him to move it out of the way, standing in its place. 

“Trust me,” he whispered into your ear as he brushed all of your hair over your opposite shoulder. The cold air hitting your exposed neck forced a chill down your spine. Well, that and Jesse’s breath fanning over the small patch of skin. 

“Okay,” you muttered as you felt him place his hands on your shoulders. When you walked into work this morning, a massage from your boss really was the last thing you were expecting. It wasn’t like you were complaining, though. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamt of his hands on your body once or twice since Monday. 

His thick fingers worked wonders on your shoulders. You mumbled out some joke about him going into the wrong career field, which earned a short laugh from him, before you felt his thumb apply the perfect amount of pressure to a spot on your shoulder blade. The moan you let out sounded almost pornographic and you would’ve been flustered had his hands not felt so good. 

You ended up having to grab the table with your right hand to steady yourself as he dug his fingers into the various knots and tension in your back. It was a struggle keeping your moans at bay when his hands hit the right spots. The whole thing felt inherently innocent until you felt one of his hands slip lower and lower so that it was resting on your lower back. 

Jesse felt his cock twitch in his slacks when he noticed how tightly you were gripping the table. Surely you had to be as turned on from this as he was. He could practically feel it. But he couldn’t let it escalate any further. He was your boss. 

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, lips centimeters away from the nape of your neck. His hand shifted from the small of your back so that it was lightly digging into the skin of your hip. 

“Don’t stop,” you said, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder as his other hand quickly moved to hike up your skirt. He let out a small groan when he noticed you had on another garter belt--this one was white and attached to a sheer pair of matching stockings. His cock was straining against his briefs at this point. Leaning you forward, he had you partially bent over the desk so that he could bunch the skirt fully up at your waist. You silently thanked JJ for not doing the laundry when you asked him to. The only pair of panties you had left were the extremely lacy lingerie he’d gifted you as a gag gift when you both graduated high school. 

“These are nice,” he hummed, more to himself than to you, the tip of his finger running along the hemline. The thin fabric was probably soaked through at that point and it took everything in your power to not clench your thighs around the knee he’d placed between your legs to keep you spread. 

“Please,” you said after a few minutes of him tracing the various hems and lines of your undergarments. He’d spent entirely too much time fiddling with the tops of your stockings for your taste. It was driving you insane. 

“What do you want?” he tutted, leaning forward so that his chest was pressed up against your back. You were incredibly thankful he’d shut the door on this way in, even if you were the last two in the building. A soft gasp fell from your lips when you felt him cup your cunt with a full palm. 

“Touch me,” you breathed. The feeling of having him so close, surrounding you, was sending your mind into a haze. You felt like you were floating. 

“Mmm, is that what you want?” he asked. “You want me to touch you?”

“More than anything,” you admitted. He used two fingers to circle your clit through your panties. His breath was hot against your neck and the hand that wasn’t on your pussy was wrapped around your midriff to keep you pressed against him. 

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked. You nodded. “There’s no one else here. You can be as loud as you want. Can you do that for me? Can you let me hear how good I’m making you feel?”

“Fuck,” you whimpered as you felt him pull away from you. The loss of contact on the throbbing bundle of nerves left you feeling empty. You felt the cold air hit your slick before you even registered the fact that he’d tugged your underwear halfway down your legs. Goosebumps rose under his touch as he dragged his index finger up your leg until it was resting just under your entrance. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, voice shaky. You thought you’d made it obscenely clear you wanted him in any possible fashion but apparently not. 

“Please,” the urge to call him Jesse was on the tip of your tongue but you didn’t want to push your luck. “Sir.”

He delved his index finger into you first, testing the waters. After a few short pumps, he pushed his middle finger in as well. The further he stuffed his fingers in, the more desperate you were to clench your thighs around him. He clicked his tongue each time you did, lightly tapping your bare ass with his free hand. 

“Stop fidgeting. You’ll take what I give you,” he tutted, curling the two fingers that were inside of you as he wrapped his right hand back around your midsection. 

“Oh,” you whined as you felt him roll your clit between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand still rapidly moving in and out of your hole. You could already feel your orgasm approaching. Fast. 

“You gonna cum? I can feel it,” he said. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers.” 

The noise that left your mouth as your orgasm washed over you sounded almost inhuman. He cooed softly in your ear as he helped you ride everything out. A small string of curses fell from your lips when he pulled his fingers out of you, stepping back so that you could turn around and face him. He tapped the two fingers that had been inside you twice on your bottom lip. 

“Open,” he said. You complied, allowing him to slip both digits into your mouth. “Good girl.”

It took everything in Jesse’s power to not force you to your knees right then and there. He was salivating at the thought of your tongue circling around his cock the way it was going around his fingers. But he knew he couldn’t do that. Not today at least. 

“I should let you get back to work,” Jesse said as you slipped your panties back up, smoothing your skirt down over them. The sudden shift in atmosphere shouldn’t have surprised you. What was supposed to happen when you let your boss finger you over your desk?

“Right,” you said, grabbing your chair that had been pushed across the room so you could get settled back at your desk again. You didn’t have anything left to do today but you were gonna make sure he was out of sight before you left the building. 

“Right,” he repeated, drying his fingers off on his dress pants before stepping out of the small office. 

tags: @ptersparkers​ @digniteas​ @kiarascarreras​ @letsgofullkook​ @kirikaelak​ @haute-shawn​ @obx-baby​ @httpstarkey​ @x-lulu​ @obbx-tings​ @poguestyleskye​ @erraaxh​ @sunwardsss​ @katrynec​ @moldisgoodforyou​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @kaelankaekul​ @queenofthebees003​ @waywardbabie​ @pankowstyle​ @wondergal21​ @outerbongs​ @scandalousfemale​

[alexiessan]

Never alone - Chapter Eight - Soulmate AU

AO3

Previous - Here - Next

Master List

It’s kind of funny to write Marinette’s imagination going overboard x)

Hey, anyone ever wrote a Miraculous x Doctor Who cross over? I’ve been bing watching the serie and I’m obsessed with it!

Marinette was tired after this day, but a good tired. Working with Tim was amazing, she has learned so much in just a day and she couldn’t wait for the next.

When seeing everyone on the bus on the way back to the hotel, she was happy to find that her classmates had a good time at Wayne Enterprises. They were all talking about the things they learned and how nice the people they were working with were.

She exchanged a glance with Alya and they fist-bumped, happy that they made a good choice with this trip. They would all mature from this experience.

Arriving at the hotel, despite being tired, the designer also felt restless. She wanted to move, run or something. She wished she could go on a run on the roofs of Gotham as Ladybug but it would be too much risk and possibly compromise her identity.

Maybe Robin would agree to take her on a run on some of the safest roofs.

Marinette was in her room with Alya, reviewing all the notes she had taken while listening to Timothy. She had already filled a few pages of her brand new notebook that she bought back in Paris specifically for this internship.

Looking at the time, she realized that it was almost time for dinner and closed her book. She discreetely took a cookie out of a box and gave it to Tikki. Her eyes landed on the glasses inside, feeling a bit guilty that she kept the Miraculous inactive and that Kaalki couldn’t be with them, but it was safer this way. Hiding one kwami was already a difficult task, but two…

She didn’t want a repeat of Kwami Buster when both Tikki and Plagg were both caught by Mrs. Mendeleiev.

She preferred not to think about that event, Plagg’s presence at her school still unsettled her, despite Chat Noir claiming not knowing what school Françoise Dupont was.

She recognized a lie when she heard one, herself having to make the most ridiculous excuses to cover her superheroing.

But it was better not thinking about it, she wasn’t ready for anything regarding their identities.

And right now, she was hungry.

“Are you ready to go eat Alya? I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, just let me save this on my external drive and we can go!”

She watched as the reporter did just that and started chatting about her day.

“God, Mari, I’m so happy we applied for this program. I’ve learned so much today and it was only the first day. Mrs. Finnigan taught Adrien how to handle the press when they spread false information about him and she told me all about the relations between the public relations teams and the media. I heard from Nino that he has ten pages of notes about copyrights already and it’s not over! He’s already planning to get some of his songs protected!”

“That’s great, Alya!”

The class had an essay to write about their time at Wayne Enterprises when they get back to Paris, and while it should have been a source of complaints from the students, hearing how everyone loved their time there, writing an essay about him shouldn’t be a chore for anyone.

She heard at dinner that some had even started the outline of their essays and the two girls could see how proud Miss Bustier was of her students.

The laughs from the class’ table in the hotel’s restaurant could be heard from the lobby.

His brothers were laughing at his expense and Damian was seconds away from hitting them.

And probably do way more violent things too.

During dinner, Tim related his day with Marinette, smirking at his youngest brother all the while. He was telling them what a sunshine their future sister in law was and how Damian literally ran away from her the moment he saw her in the co-CEO’s office.

And of course, Jason and Dick found it hilarious.

“You spend every night with her as Robin but you can’t handle seeing her as yourself?!”

“Shut up Todd, before I make you regret your words.”

“It’s that he just can’t handle it, Jason! He literally noped out of it!” laughed Tim along with his brothers.

Unfortunately, Tim dodged out of the way of the knife he threw at him.

Maybe he should put something sharp in his shoes when he wasn’t looking. Maybe, then, his brother would just shut up.

The youngest Robin sighed. Siblings were such a drag.

“What the hell is that thing?!”

Robin and Marinette were on the roofs of her hotel for their daily meetings and for once, she was in her pajamas without her contact on. He got used to seeing her with two blue eyes so it was a bit weird to see her with a jade green eye just like his. All that added to his cape that she was wearing, just like every day before, was enough to make the tip of his ears go red.

Damn, she was cute like this.

But it wasn’t what prompted him to react the way he did.

No, what warranted such a response was the tiny red thing that was floating next to her and looking at him with weird big blue eyes and an antenna on its head.

The bluenette laughed.

“This is Tikki. She’s a Kwami and it’s thank to her that I can transform into Ladybug. She’s been- Comment on dit, déjà ? Ah! She’s been granting me my powers ever since I got the Miraculous.”

“It’s very nice to meet you! I’m so glad Marinette found her soulmate!” the… the thing said with a high pitch that hurt his ears.

“So a literal insect is giving you your powers?” he asked, skeptical.

The kwami frowned.

“Hey! Have some respect, would you? I’m not an insect, but a Kwami! I’m basically a god!”

“A… god? This tiny thing?”

Tikki scowled and scoffed.

“I’ll go back to the room, Marinette!”

And without another glance to Robin, she disappeared.

“I think you offended her.”

“Well, excuse me for being skeptical about a tiny thing that looks like an insect being a god.”

Marinette laughed.

“I can’t blame you. When I first met her I called her a blatte-souris. Hm… a croroch-mouse?”

“A cockroach-mouse?”

“Yeah, a cockroach-mouse! Sorry.”

Robin smiled, amused.

“So, yeah. I panicked and all so I wasn’t better than you.”

She clapped her hands.

“Anyway! I was actually hoping that you would accept to take me on a run somewhere, I’m feeling restless.”

“Absolutely not.”

There was a heavy silence as Marinette just looked at him.

“Why not?”

“Do you realize how dangerous it would be? We can’t risk anyone recognizing you! Could you imagine if someone saw Robin and an unmasked girl running around Gotham? The media would have a field day!”

Robin watched as the designer thought about it and could see the moment she agreed with him.

That girl really was an open book, he thought.

“Alright, alright. Then… Maybe you could teach me some basic martial art moves? As you know, I’m basically acting on instincts as Ladybug, but it would help a lot if I actually knew how to fight. Properly. Especially since the Akumas are getting a lot more violent.”

That, he could do.

“Fine. But we’ll need to spar a little so I can assess your skills and see where to go from there.”

The Parisian beamed.

“Alright! I’m ready.”

As she got in a defensive position, the vigilante observed her carefully.

“First of all, don’t make your fist that way. Don’t put your thumb inside, but outside. You could break it upon impact.”

The teenage girl did as he said and he waited a few seconds more before he attacked.

She dodged easily but she didn’t see his next move. Of course, he didn’t put strength in his hit, the goal wasn’t to hurt her but to observe.

She attacked in return but none of her blow hit home.

Two minutes in the sparring and Marinette was on her back, Robin having softly flipped her.

“Again.”

They sparred a few times, each time Marinette lasted a bit longer, but she never lasted more than five minutes.

She was breathing heavily while he barely broke a sweat.

“I’ll be honest with you, it’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

He winced. He hasn’t shown her this side of him yet.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” she scoffed.

Good, she could take it. He was afraid that she would be offended.

He sat next to her as she stayed on the floor, like a starfish.

“We’ll have to start from scratch. I’ll teach you some basic moves but there is only so much I can teach you in less than a week. You really need to take lessons when you get back to Paris, no matter how full your schedule already is.”

Marinette looked at him, giving him a sad smile.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll do it.”

“But you’re not hopeless. You adapt fast.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, every time we sparred, you would last longer.”

The Eurasian girl laughed.

“I didn’t last more than five minutes!”

“No, but in the first spar, you lasted only two minutes. So it’s progress. It shows that you adapt easily. You’re also aware of your surroundings and know how to use it. If you take this seriously, you’ll progress fast.”

He watched as she was still breathing heavily.

“Come on, give me your phone.”

She did as he asked and he took his own phone out too. He unlocked her phone easily.

“And for the love of God, Marinette, put a password on your phone.”

She smiled sheepishly.

He entered his contact information and send a message to himself from her phone and then saved her contact. He gave her her phone back.

“Here, I entered my number. I’ll send you a training program. You need to build up your strength and your stamina. You can’t afford to be out of breath like that.”

He hoped she wasn’t offended. He only did this because he cared and he didn’t want her to get killed fighting Akumas because she wasn’t strong enough.

The way she smiled at him showed him that she knew that.

“Thank you.” she breathed.

Marinette was like an open book, but Robin knew he wasn’t. He didn’t know how to feel that she could read him so easily. Was he already lowering his guard around her?

He sighed. He knew that the answer was yes. He already was lowering his guard. He did it unconsciously because he wanted things to work with his soulmate.

He didn’t want to be the man his mother wanted him to be. Not anymore.

“We’ll start some training tomorrow. In the meantime, I believe I promised you to show you some of my drawings.”

Marinette beamed as he took a few pieces of paper and she straightened, sitting next to him as he showed her drawings of Titus, Alfred the cat and the batcow.

He smiled as she cooed at them.

When she woke up the next day, Marinette cursed Robin. She was sore at some places that she didn’t know had muscles. She had a headache, but that was probably because she only got two hours of sleep, she and Robin had stayed later than usual, losing themselves in their conversations unaware of the time passing.

Marinette heard a noise next to her.

“Marinette, wake up! Breakfast is in twenty minutes.”

The designer cursed once more in her head. It was the first time since the beginning of the trip that Alya woke up before her. The dark-haired girl panicked for a few seconds, already imagining the reporter seeing her green eye. She could already picture her asking questions about her soulmate, who they were and when it happened. She could already see herself screw up and admitting that Robin was her soulmate and it would be on the Ladyblog and it would spread worldwide and Robin would hate her!

She wanted to scream until her mind cleared. Why was she panicking? Hiding her eye was, actually, really simple.

Marinette got up, rubbing her eyes and feigning a yawn as she made her way to the bathroom.

Nailed it, she thought as she closed the door behind her.

Tag list: 

@bigpicklebananatree @animegirlweeb @crazylittlemunchkin​ @northernbluetongue @cutechip @justafanwarrior @iloontjeboontje @resignedcatservant @maribat-is-lifeblood @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @toodaloo-kangaroo @mikantsume @dast218 @amayakans @zestyzealot​ @lunarwolfspn​ @corabeth11​

[liitlesunshiine]

Little Sidekick

(Bakugo x Reader)

Warnings: Cursing, sfw

Prompt: Y/N takes up an internship at the Ground Zero agency. With her luck, she ends up a sidekick to the Pro hero himself- Bakugo.

Prelude: While this chapter is smutty free I can guarantee you the future ones wont be ;) Now I haven’t written anything in a FAT minute so forgive ya girl for the grammar errors you see. I’m a marketing major not a literature one. Just horny and motivated enough to write a full-blown fic on a fictional character, that I am currently obsessing over. Hope ya sluts enjoy :*

Y/LN= Your Last Name

| Chapter 1

In a desperate last-minute attempt to leave your toxic home, you took up a hero exchange program in Japan that you found online. While this wasn’t exactly the smartest thing you’ve done, it definitely didn’t stop you from applying to a sidekick position in an agency called “Ground Zero,” not aware that you’re getting more than what you had originally bargained for; you secretly packed a bag with a few necessities and slipped out of the prison you called home.

~

“Good morning Ms. Y/LN, to start you off we’re going to be putting you in a training simulation to better analyze your quirk and combat skills. This is to see which hero you’d be most compatible with as a sidekick.”

It was your second day at the agency. You spent a week settling in the apartment that the agency offered you for the internship program. It was a humble setting, nothing flashy which you had preferred anyways. You finally step foot in the agency yesterday mainly going over the basics and signing paperwork, today you assumed was going to be a bit more hands on.

You were used to this type of routine, being top class in your high school years meant a lot of colleges were constantly throwing themselves at you. Which in turn led to a lot of situations with you in training and battling on other heroes. Especially with your father owning and running multiple agencies, you were constantly being forced to get stronger, it was practically expected of you to become a high-ranking hero in America and take over his business. Something you honestly didn’t care much for. Maybe it was the constant pressure being put on your shoulders to become a hero but after so many years of being subjected to that, you’ve come to secretly dislike the hero industry in your own twisted way. You only took this internship program because you were unknown here, there were no expectations of you, no one constantly breathing down your shoulder; here you were nothing but a nameless sidekick and that thought alone brought you some peace.

You stepped into the training simulation. It was an all-white room but seemed endless. On one wall there was a glass window where you supposed they watched you from but couldn’t see through from your side. You were wearing a one-piece track suit with lines running all throughout the outfit. The suit was ingrained with tech that would monitor your breathing and usage of your quirk.

“Hello Y/LN” you heard through the speaker phone “if the training gets too intense for you or if you want to take a break just yell out STOP and we will immediately halt everything. I also forgot to ask since I didn’t see it on your application: what is your hero name?”

That question lingered in your head for a minute or so. In America you were forced into living a persona behind the title of a false name. Everything in the hero industry was so theatrical, from the costumes, to even the name you represented yourself with. It was all so scripted and fake. You refused to take any part in that this time, here in Japan you’re starting with a clean slate.  So, with that in mind you sternly responded:

‘Y/N. it’s just Y/N.” and thus the training began.

About 15 minutes went by with no trouble or fuss. Your air quirk allowed you to move fast and efficiently. You’ve dodged every attack thrown at you by the fake automated dummies and even destroyed a handful with such ease and precision. You were taught a variety of attack and defense forms, all with and without the use of your quirk. You also knew how to dual sword fight; but since the training has been so pathetically easy you haven’t even found the need to use your swords yet. Picking up on this attitude, the speaker came on once again.

“It seems like the simulation is a bit too easy on you Y/N, were going to be skipping up a few levels and see how you do on level 7: which is where most of the pro heroes train at.

You only responded with a nod. A smirk slowly creeping in your face. About time they got serious. You were hoping for a challenge, you couldn’t deny the bit of pride you felt effortlessly blowing through this training. With that, more mindless dummies appeared, all in different shapes and sizes this time, some even carrying weapons and shields. There was one dummy in particular that caught your attention. It had four arms all holding a sword. You immediately drew your swords out and instantly ran over to it; all while you smoothly cut and sliced through all the others in your way.

Once you reached the four handed dummy, it instantly became a dance among swords hashing and daggering at one other. Even though you were outnumbered by two swords you kept the upper hand by being faster. But with every given slice the dummy was beginning to match your pace and speed, it was becoming slightly more difficult to stop every single hit; so, you cartwheeled back to give yourself some space.

You jumped to one of the corners of the walls staying off the ground to think of plan. You figured if you kept going back and forth with the dummy it would get you nowhere and eventually just tire you out. Frustrated by how the dummy was able to match your speed you prioritized cutting off two of its arms. That way it be more manageable than trying to defend yourself against four swords attacking you simultaneously. You instantly retreated back once you had given your failed plan an attempt. Back on the corner of the wall, you were losing more patience.

Maybe I should wait for an opening and cut its head off, maybe with my quirk I can push it back and have it fall, you thought to yourself. Maybe I’m just overthinking this, it’s a fucking lifeless dummy.

With that you activated your quirk and blew air towards the dummy with such force it rolled back. You took this opportunity to jump on it, but it immediately drew out one of its swords to defend itself; it forced you to quickly rotate midair and land it behind it. This gave you about 3 seconds to rack your sword across its neck before it was able to even register you were behind it. Its lifeless head fell onto to the floor and about a minute or so its body just disappeared altogether. The room was slowly returning to its white appearance and all the evidence of a battle scene was replaced shiny tiles. The lady walked through the door “wow Y/N that was great! You don’t even seem to be worn out. I’m sure you could’ve even reached level 8 easily but we gathered enough data already. Why don’t you come into my office so we can go over the details of who you’ll be paired up with”

You’ve trained tirelessly for years on end, of course this simulation was going to be a breeze. At least compared to what you’ve faced in the past. You shuttered at the thought, quickly trying to think of something else. You thoughtlessly followed her as she led the way, you looked around the impressive building with curiosity; it wasn’t the fanciest one you’ve seen but it must have been one of the biggest. After heading up in an elevator and making a few more turns you ended up in the speaker’s office taking a seat across her. A bit of guilt creeping up since you had completely forgotten her name.

She pulled out some papers giving you more things to sign and fill out. She briefly reminded you of the benefits that the agency was going to be offering you: an apartment complex 5 minutes away from here, a flexible schedule and fixed meet up times, and a small allowance for food and necessities.

“Do remember this program is for a year, while we can’t guarantee you a permanent position after that, if you do show promising resolve, we can offer you a contract making you an official member of the agency. This program is highly competitive though, we have about 8 other exchange heroes that we will be working with this year. And out of the 8 only one or possibly two, candidates will be accepted.”

“yeah that’s fine,” you casually responded.

You weren’t planning on staying here forever, regardless you were hoping by the end of the year you would land a spot in Shoto’s agency. You’ve always secretly admired the half and half hero after watching an interview of him speaking about his father. You couldn’t help but relate to him and what he felt; on top of it he seemed like a genuine and down to earth person. The opposite of what you’ve usually seen among heroes. You were absolutely intrigued and fascinated by the icyhot hero-

You were pulled away from your thoughts when the door behind you was slammed open. You jumped slightly from the noise and sharply turned with an irritated look on your face to see which asshole would just barge in like that. When you did, your eyes met with a pair of red curious ones. The man who barged in had spiky blonde hair protruding out in every angle, that would’ve been his most noticeable feature if it weren’t for the fact that he was fucking huge. His presence alone held such intimidation and power and that tight black shirt with a red X on it did little to no job in hiding every curve and muscle from his body. From the sharp V line on his lower abdomen, to his biceps which made your head look small in comparison, you were certainly caught off guard but pulled back into reality when the woman broke the silence.

“Y/N, this is Bakugo, Katsuki, also known as Ground Zero. You will be his sidekick from this moment forth.”

.

.

.

There was a moment or so of awkward silence that made the air around you feel heavy.

“tsk. Like hell I need a sidekick. I don’t need dead weight on my fucking shoulders, set her up with shitty hair, or dunce face.”

“Now, now Bakugo. We discussed this with the PR team already, don’t be difficult. We need to bring up your ratings. Having a pretty sidekick can distract the audience from that explosive personality of yours. We’re already in a rough spot from your last meltdown.” Speaker lady said with the calmest tone you’ve heard her use since you’ve met her.

“I was in the middle of a fucking battle how else would you have liked for me to get the public out of the way eh?”

“threating them with an explosion and cursing them off definitely wouldn’t have been my first choice.”

“tsk. Whatever. I’ll have to train her then. Wouldn’t want a liability on my hands now.” He looked over to you “Ya heard me freakshow?”  

You bit your inner lip, drawing a tiny ounce of blood. There was a lot of information to digest here but fuck this, you thought. You ignored him for a few seconds, unraveling everything you’ve just heard. The balls on this guy. Who the hell did he think he was? Last thing you needed was to deal with some asshole trying to down talk you. You stood up and pushed your chair back. You looked up at him with unsettling coldness. You weren’t having any of this shit today.

“My name is fucking Y/N.”

His mouth slightly gaped, it almost looked like he wanted to respond but couldn’t form any words. You assumed he wasn’t used to people talking back? You could careless at the moment, you took his delayed reaction to walk out and slam the door closed. You felt offended and belittled. So, they partnered me up with that punk not based off of my skill or anything but because I’m simply a pretty face that can distract the crowd from his unhinged personality? The fuck. A wind whirl of emotions went through you. Wasn’t this in some way demeaning, maybe even sexist? I’m being reduced to my looks now; this was definitely a first for you. His words rang in your head “dead weight” “liability,” “shitty hair,” “dunce face;” he not only spat on you but on his coworkers as well? Man, if that’s how he talks about his peers you could only imagine what he had in store for you, seems like “freakshow” was your new nickname already. A chill ran down your spine, maybe coming here was a bad idea.

No. no. no.  You quickly stopped your train of thought. I’m not going to have this wannabe scare me off on the first day. I left America for a reason, I can deal with this, I can deal with him-

Your thoughts were interrupted once again.

“Oi, I wasn’t finished talking!” he stomped his way behind you and pulled your arm back, forcing you to face him.

“well I am.” You responded sharply with an attitude rolling off your tongue.

“Like hell you are.” He growled, gripping your arm tighter this time, tugging you closer to him. The muscles on his biceps becoming veiny from how tight his grip was. The air stiffened and everyone outside the office walked slowly pretending not to notice you both. This time with more courage and vigor you pushed his shoulder, which to your embarrassment did little to nothing considering he didn’t even move an inch.

“What’s your problem?” you asked genuinely confused from why he was acting out, the pain on your arm becoming harder to ignore. He held an intense gaze with you, it was now registering how small you were in comparison to him. With his free hand he pushed the hair on your shoulder to the side gently, throwing you off completely. He leaned into you, insanely and uncomfortably close with his hot breath hitting your ear. Chills were running all throughout your body and you couldn’t bring yourself to move way this time. It was if you were completely frozen.

“Don’t go thinking you’re hot shit just cause you reached level 7. I’d hate to put you in your place so soon on your first week here little sidekick.” The pet name rolling off his tongue. You practically choked on air, not sure with what to respond with, still frozen. Slightly terrified, now slightly turned on; you made a feeble attempt in creating some space only to be pulled in closer. Now he had both of your arms pinned to the side.

“Not so brave now eh?” He pushed his body onto you, you practically felt like you were sinking into him. A light unintentional blush crept in on your face and he smirked at the sight. He pulled your chin up forcing you to meet his eyes, glaring down at you with a smug look on his face. He was taunting you.  

“Our training sessions will be every Thursday and Friday after 4. Make sure you’re on time little sidekick, I’d hate to have to go look for you and trust me, the last thing you’d want is to play a game of hide and seek with me.”

With that he let go of you and shoved you off to the side. You regained your balance by grabbing on to the table near you, trying to register what the fuck just happened. Everyone was looking at you. While Bakugo walked out of the room, you stood there absolutely floored. It was until a tap on the shoulder brought you back to your senses.

“You good? I wouldn’t worry much about Bakubro, he’s just like that.” A rather handsome red head stood in front of you. He was slightly bigger than Bakugo but around the same height. There was this energy radiating off of him that felt really comforting and soothing. He smiled at you and you caught sight of his sharp teeth, but gentle look on his eyes.

“I’m Kirishima. Welcome to the agency.”

~