#OH and i forgot that on the train i read my magazine and they really respected me by making it pink

[izzymalec]

this barbie was not disappointed

seeing barbie on sunday 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

[cecilysass]

Shine On (3/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 3: Might Be My Fault

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 20, 2015

The knock on the door makes Mulder jump and sit up abruptly on the couch.

His first thought is that maybe Scully forgot something, but even as he’s scanning the room for anything of hers, he’s realizing: he hadn’t heard her car come back up the drive. 

He hasn’t heard any car come up the drive.

For thirty seconds he’s in bitter disbelief that danger could possibly be at his door right now. When he’s sitting here with his heart in pieces, his whole world in shambles. 

Then again, if there’s one thing Fox Mulder knows all too well, it’s that life will always kick you when you’re down.

He stands up slowly, moving silently to his desk drawer where he keeps a weapon just in case. He sticks the gun in his waistband, safety on. He’s careful not to make too much noise.

No need to overreact. It could be nothing. There are a few neighbors around—although they’re a bit of a hike away—and it could be someone coming to his house on foot for perfectly innocent reasons. Still, his experience, his training, and his instincts tell him to be prepared. 

Some very dark, small voice inside his mind tells him something else: All your training assumes you don’t want someone to strike you down. That you have something to live for. But that’s not an accurate assumption in this case, is it? Why do you bother? She’s never coming back.

He shakes his head. He can’t think like that. Besides, there’s comfort in just slipping into g-man mode, something he knows how to do without thinking. 

The curtains in his front window are drawn, so he can just peer out from the side. There is someone standing there, but Mulder can only see the back slope of their head and back. A man, he thinks. He’s standing too close to the door for Mulder’s vantage point. If this guy would just take one little step back, Mulder could see him perfectly.

Almost as if he could hear Mulder’s request, the figure takes a step back, stepping precisely into Mulder’s frame of sight. 

It’s not a man. It’s a boy. A  young teenager, facing the front door expectantly.

Mulder lets out a deep breath. All right. This is more likely a neighbor request then. Probably a kid selling magazine subscriptions for the junior high track team or something. 

“Hi,” Mulder says, opening the door with a tepid, friendly smile. “What can I do for you?”

The boy stares back at him, and Mulder’s investigator instincts snap back into place. This doesn’t look like a kid selling magazines. This looks like a kid who is very, very anxious.

“I–” The kid stops, bites his lip, looks at his feet. “Somebody, uh, told me to come talk to you.”

“To me?” Mulder scratches his head. He tries to wrack his brain about why a local kid could be sent to talk to him. He knows some of his neighbors probably think he needs help with keeping up the yard. “Oh. Uh, is it about those downed trees on the edge of the property? I know sometimes people pay kids to cut wood up and haul it away or whatever. Were you … interested?”

“No, no,” the boy says. He’s got brown hair, straight, and he runs his fingers through it nervously. “It’s not like that. I came here … for your help.”

“For my help,” repeats Mulder. His eyes scan the yard, the road beyond, looking for signs of a car that could have dropped the kid off. 

“Yeah,” the boy says. He clears his throat. His eyes land, just for a moment, at the handle of the gun visible at Mulder’s waistband. “I need help. Somebody told me you could help me. Fox Mulder, right?”

Mulder nods. “Yeah, I’m Fox Mulder,” he says. He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Listen, I used to be an F.B.I. agent, but I’m not anymore. I’m not really someone who can…help people.”

The boy is undeterred. “I think you can help me.”

Mulder looks him over. He has a lightweight jacket on, but his shoes look dirty. He’s shifting his weight from foot to foot. There’s something sad about the kid, like he’s carrying an invisible burden. 

Mulder has the oddest sensation, just for a moment, that he can actually feel the kid’s sadness. That he’s experiencing the same heavy sensation blooming in his chest as the kid is.

The feeling fades away quickly. Probably just one depressed guy feeling empathy for another.

Why the fuck don’t you try to help him? What else do you have to do?

“Okay,” Mulder says with a sigh. “Sure. I have a lot of questions. But come inside. I’ll see what I can do.”

The boy follows Mulder obediently. His eyes, sharp and observant, fly all over the room, taking in every detail. He stares at the piles of books on the floor, the same perturbed expression on his face that Scully had.

“I’m reorganizing my books,” Mulder explains halfheartedly. “Why don’t you come sit at the table with me? More room over here. What’s your name?”

“Jackson,” the kid says, sliding into one of Mulder’s kitchen table seats. 

“Are you hurt, Jackson?”

“No,” he says. 

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

Some muscle twitches in the kid’s face, and Mulder can see that yes, he definitely is hungry and thirsty. He wonders how far the kid has walked today. So many questions, but experience has taught him to take care of basic needs first. 

“I’m okay,” the kid says with a modest lift of his shoulder.

“I was thinking about ordering a pizza,” Mulder says. “If I get one, will you eat it? It would be a favor. I can get more if you share it with me.”

“All right,” Jackson says, watching him closely. “I like Italian sausage.”

“Hey, that’s my favorite,” Mulder says pleasantly. “What a coincidence. Let me order, and then we’ll talk.” 

Mulder picks up his phone to call. There’s only one place that delivers out here in the boondocks, and he has their number saved. As he gives them the order, he watches Jackson rise from his seat and wander around the room, examining Mulder’s belongings, picking up books and pictures on the shelves. Mulder realizes with bemusement that for a few minutes the mystery teen has managed to entirely sidetrack him from his own troubles.

An intriguing case could always do that, he thinks.

“Who are they?” Jackson asks, when Mulder is off the phone. Jackson is holding up a framed black and white photo from the sixties, a relic from the intact days of his parents’ marriage that Mulder has only recently had framed.

“They’re my parents,” Mulder says. “A long time ago, when they were young.”

“Are they still alive?”

“No,” Mulder says. “No, they’re gone.”

Jackson nods seriously, looking at the photo. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. It’s been some time now.”

Jackson tilts his head thoughtfully. “Can I ask you… do you sometimes feel bad that they died? Like it was your fault?”

Mulder frowns, startled. “How would you—why would you say that?” 

“Sorry,” Jackson says, his face flushing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to … My parents are dead, too.”

“Oh,” Mulder says, his tone changing. “I’m sorry.”

“They were murdered,” Jackson adds in a monotone. “They were shot. Just a few weeks ago.”

Mulder lets out a breath. “Oh, wow,” he says. “That’s recent. That’s a lot, Jackson.”

Jackson puts the photo down and walks back over to his seat at the table. He makes unsettling direct eye contact with Mulder, and when he does, Mulder can see that his eyes are wet. 

“Is the reason you came here to see me …. something to do with that?” Mulder asks. “Something to do with your parents?”

Jackson nods, but can’t seem to say anything else, his lip quivering. Some tears stream down his face. Mulder recognizes signs of trauma all over the kid and knows not to push, even though he definitely wants to know more. 

“You want something to drink?” Mulder says gently. “I have spiced apple cider. That good kind from Trader Joe’s. You want some of that?”

“Okay,” Jackson says, sniffing. Mulder stands to get the cider. “I don’t know what Trader Joe’s is.”

“Oh, it’s just a grocery store,” Mulder says, opening the fridge. “There’s not one near here, but I go to the one in Alexandria sometimes and stock up. Maybe you’ve seen one before if you’ve gone into DC.”

“I’ve never been to DC,” Jackson says. “I’m from Wyoming.”

Mulder turns around from the counter to look at Jackson, surprised. “You’re from Wyoming?”

“Yeah,” he says. “This is the first time I’ve ever been this far east. Really the first I’ve been anywhere except Wyoming, Colorado, Idaho — and my uncle Wyatt’s in Minnesota.” 

“How did you get here? To Virginia?”

“Someone drove me. To see you.”

Mulder’s puzzled. “Someone drove you? Who drove you?”

Jackson looks down at his hands on the table. “I can’t tell you that.” He swallows, looking ashamed. “Is that okay? I just … can’t tell you.”

Mulder shakes his head in bewilderment. “Yeah, well, of course it’s okay,” he says. “Tell me whatever you want. I’m just trying to figure out what you need from me, Jackson.”

The microwave, which has been humming, now dings, and Mulder lifts two mugs of cider to the table, placing them in front of Jackson and himself. He notices that Jackson never stops staring at him, taking in every detail. His eyes are intensely green, bright, constantly shifting at everything around him.

“All right,” Mulder says. “What do you need me to know?”

Jackson sips his cider, sitting up very straight and stiff. He bizarrely reminds Mulder of Scully sitting on the couch before, sipping her tea and refusing to let her guard down. 

The kid sets down his cup. “They think I killed my parents,” Jackson says. He stares meaningfully at Mulder. “They think I woke up and shot them, then went to school like nothing happened. They’re trying to arrest me.”

Mulder stares back at him, blinking. “But you didn’t shoot them.”

“No.”

“So you’re on the run? From the police?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “I left my school. I snuck out. I’ve been running since.”

“And somehow, you ran all the way from Wyoming to Virginia,” Mulder says. “To see … me.”

Jackson scowls slightly. “I can tell you don’t believe me all the way. That you’re suspicious,” he says. “But that’s the truth, I swear.”

“I’m not exactly suspicious,” Mulder says, although he is, just a little. “I’m just trying to figure out how I might be of help. I mean, I’m not a lawyer, or even a private investigator, Jackson.” He cradles his cup of cider, appraising the boy. “Back when I was an F.B.I. agent, my partner and I, we dealt with cases that had to do with unusual circumstances. The supernatural. Is there anything about what happened to your parents that might be … unusual?”

“They were shot,” Jackson says, monotone again. “It wasn’t supernatural.”

“Why do the police think that you killed them?”

“I don’t know,” Jackson says. His stoic face crumples. “I don’t know the answer to that. I wish I did. They seemed really sure.”

Mulder studies him. He’s experiencing a strong feeling of certainty that the boy didn’t kill his parents. It’s a feeling probably derived from his rusty profiling skills, but right now it feels more like a pure feeling. 

“Hey,” he says impulsively, reaching for the kid’s arm. “Whatever happened  …  it’s not your fault, Jackson.”

The boy draws away. “No,” he says, his voice tight. “That’s the thing. I think it might be my fault.” 

Mulder sits back in his chair again, then slowly crosses his arms. “I don’t follow.”

“I didn’t kill them,” Jackson says. “I loved them.” He swallows. “But I think they were killed because of me. I can’t think of any other reason why. That’s why I’m here.” He licks his lips anxiously.

Mulder waits a moment expectantly, but Jackson doesn’t continue. “Why do you think they were killed because of you?” he prompts.

Jackson’s staring at the table, not looking up. “I think it has something to do with my birth parents,” he says, so quietly Mulder can barely hear.

Mulder’s mug had been halfway to the table, but he now freezes in place. Gradually, he becomes aware of the sound of the clock on the kitchen wall ticking and finds himself moving again.

“You’re adopted?” Mulder asks in a careful, precise voice. He sets his mug down.

“Yeah,” Jackson says. 

“How… how old are you?

“I’m almost fourteen.”

Mulder has to stop again. Almost fourteen. Born in spring 2001. The boy is watching him closely, a curious expression on his face. 

“Do you…know who your birth parents are?”

“I know who my birth mother is,” Jackson says. “Not her name. I don’t know her name. But I know who she is.”

Mulder finds he can’t speak. He sits there staring at the boy, trying not to observe a hundred new things about him. The texture of his hair. The color of his eyes. The shape of his face. His tendency to lick his lips when he is nervous.

“How do you know who she is?” Mulder manages finally.

“You said you’d worked supernatural cases, right?” Jackson asks. “Well. I’ve seen her… in my mind. In these flashes. That’s something I can do. I’ve seen her calling for me. Crying for me. A few times in my life. I sort of figured out that was who it was.”

Mulder runs his hands down his face, trying to absorb this.  “Okay,” he says. “Okay. I have questions about all of that, but okay.” He steels himself. “You said you knew who she was. Who—who is she?”

Jackson looks up directly at him, with a pointed expression, like he thinks he should have figured this out already. “The woman who was here before. Who you fought with. The woman who drove off. With the red hair.”

Mulder closes his eyes. He keeps them closed for a moment, searching desperately for some idea for what to say or do next. 

He opens them and nods slowly at the boy.

“All right,” he says in a rough voice, running his hands together. “All right then.”

He folds his hands on the table.

“Then first off,” he says, “you should know you have been to DC before.”

***

[gin-juice-tonic]

convinced that you were somehow secretly alive in the 60s/70s. what sort of secret historical resources and/or time machines are you using to expand your knowledge of decades past

Ha ha, I dont feel I do a particularly great job, but I always find myself getting into googling sprees when I just wanted to post about something simple. I'm always checking if x thing was invented yet, or popularized yet, and I end up learning a lot of new things... So I would say the best way to expand your knowledge is to ask a question about One thing, and let the research take you around in circles to answers you didnt ask for.

I talked more under here but it got long. Im putting it under a read more and bolding key words like an ace attorney game.

As for specific resources I've looked at... hm... I've gone through a lot of the old sears catalogs. There's websites out there that have ones dating all the way back from 1940 to 2017. That can give you ideas about (some) styles of clothes and furniture popular at the time. There's also websites dedicated to explaining certain decades of american fashion. Sometimes I read old popular science magazines, mainly because google books has every single one of them archived and available to read for free...

Youtube has a lot of videos of old advertisements, those are good ways to both get into some pop culture and see societal attitudes. I've watched a lot of infomercials and employee training videos for stan in particular lol. If you have specific places you want to know about you can search for videos of them. Tourism videos work well if its a famous area, if not some people upload their home movies onto youtube as well.

If you really want to, you can read books (or skim books) that were written, or had been popular to read around the time. Or advice/guide books for specific occupations. Biographies of people of different ages are great as well to learn about what life was like more in a daily way...

This is long, so I'm just going to list some things now. Blogs dedicated to histories of certain things (music, sports, gay history, 5 string banjos, columbo, whatever!), TV shows and Movies from the time period you were interested in, old comics, redditors who want to post old photos of their favorite old hangouts, and lastly, you could also just talk to older people. I've bothered my parents asking about disco, I've bothered asking my grandma about pads in the 1950s. Most people like to reminisce or complain about things from their youth lol...

oh. And I almost forgot. I've used Cassell's Dictionary of Slang a few times. Usually just to check if a phrase that I want to use existed yet. But then in the course of my search I end up finding something I think is funny

[braveclementine]

Chapter 3

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

.💙💙💙.

𝕴 𝖘𝖆𝖙 𝖎𝖓 the compartment with dad on the Hogwarts Express. Dad had drifted off to sleep as I had envisioned. He was still recovering from his sleepless night as a Werewolf. He looked so pale and sick too. I would've covered him with a blanket if we had one. As it was now, his cloak was tucked around him loosely and his head rested on the wall in the corner.

This morning had been a rushed affair. I'd forgotten to pack the night before and had panicked in the morning, knowing that I would surely, surely forget something. Luckily, dad helped me out, arriving around nine, and I had everything that I needed on the train. We were about twenty-five or so minutes early.

I got up, tucked his cloak tighter around him, and left the compartment, sliding it closed gently. I wandered about the train, mostly saying hello to fellow Hufflepuffs. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott were talking about the newest celebrity on Witch Weekly. I didn't follow the gossip magazine and listened, very interested about Celestina Warbecks' newest hit. I wondered if her music was any good. I listened to the Beatles.

I left them to their gossip and suddenly found myself being led into an older Hufflepuffs' compartment by Cedric Diggory. He introduced me to many of his older friends before I realized what was happening. He was also complimenting me about how superb of a Quidditch Chaser I made.

I blushed the entire time and got tongue-tied, which was rare for me. Cedric was in his sixth-year and all his friends were much older than me. Next year would be his last year. This thought always made me sad. He was a wonderful Quidditch captain.

The train started moving while I was still in the compartment, though I didn't worry too much. Then, one of Ced's friends politely asked me about my visions.

While uncomfortable, I answered his questions as accurately and truthfully as I dared. Then the boy asked if I could make a prediction and I said, "Well, I need to get back to my compartment before the dementors come aboard, bye Ced!" and walked out of their compartment.

I approached the compartment Dad and I were staying in, and saw that Harry was sitting in it. I opened the door, stepped in, and closed the door behind me.

"Hiya Liz." Harry said.

"Hey guys." I said, sitting across from Dad.

"We were just talking about Hogsmeade, are you going to be able to go?" Hermione asked anxiously.

I shrugged. "I forgot to ask dad to sign the slip."

"Oh." Hermione said a bit disappointed. "That's too bad."

"It's fine." I said. "I'll just ask him to sign it later."

Hermione opened her mouth to ask a question but I quickly asked, "I suppose you're not going, Harry?"

"You would know." Harry said with a reluctant grin.

Hermione bent down and pulled out a wicker basket. She fumbled with the straps while Ron shouted, "Don't let that thing out!"

To late, Crookshanks leapt from the basket and sprang onto Ron's knees. Ron pushed Crookshanks off saying, "Get out of here!"

"Ron, don't!" Hermione said angrily.

I sighed, pulling out a book, and opening it while they continued to bicker. I occasionally looked up to see how dad was doing. He looked very peaceful while sleeping. It was only now that I realized how young he was. I smiled quietly. My dad really was quite good-looking. I openly grinned, thinking about the conversation Trang and I could've had over that question.

I was deep into It when the Trolley Witch came with her cart of food.

"D'you think we should wake him up?" Ron asked awkwardly, pointing at dad.

I shook my head, marking my place in my book, and getting up to stretch. "No, he'll be alright."

"Don't worry, dear." the witch said, handing Harry a stack of cauldron cakes. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."

I bought my candy next and kept some in case he did wake up.

"I suppose he is asleep." Ron asked stupidly as we sat down to eat. "I mean- he hasn't died, has he?"

I rolled my eyes and giggled, "No, he's not dead!"

"Elizabeth, this was the man that you said would be Professor this year, correct?" Harry asked, biting into a cauldron cake.

I nodded, undoing a licorice wand. Red was the best flavor. It was very much like those things in America that Trang called 'Twizzlers'. They tasted pretty good too.

"What do you know about him?" Harry asked curiously. "Is he going to be a good Professor?"

"Yeah, the last thing we need is another Lockhart." Ron grumbled. Hermione held her tongue. I think she was still getting over the betrayal of Lockhart not being who he said he was. Half the student population had been in love with him.

I nodded enthusiastically. "Everyone except the Slytherins' are going to love him. His class will be everyone's favorite."

Ron grinned. "Good. It's about time we had a decent Professor."

Nothing exciting happened for some time. I pretty much tuned out of the conversation as I read about the fire at the Black Hole in the point of view of Mike Handlon. Around midafternoon, Draco Malfoy and his idiotic friends Crabbe and Goyle showed up, but they didn't dare pick a fight under Lupin's nose.

Dad slept near the entire train ride, and when we started to slow down I looked up, putting my book away. I had apparently forgotten about the dementors until Hermione, looking at her watch said, "We can't be there yet."

"So why're we stopping?" Ron asked, both of them looking at me.

I stayed where I was. I would've drawn my wand but since I didn't know the Patronus Charm yet, there wouldn't be anything I could do to drive the dementor away. I supposed that dad would wake up in time.

Suddenly, there were loud bangs as we came to a sudden stop. It meant luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, the lights went out completely. Since there was no sun outside anymore, I could only barely make out the outlines of the other people in the compartment.

"What's going on?" Ron said in front of me.

"Ouch!" Hermione gasped suddenly, even closer to where I was sitting, "Ron, that was my foot!"

"D'you think we've broken down?" Harry asked.

"Dunno. . ." Ron said drifting off.

"No." I said solidly. "This train can't break down. It's magic."

There was a squeaking sound which made me jump but it was just Ron wiping the window to try and see out of it.

"There's something moving out there." Ron said. "I think people are coming aboard. . ."

"That's not allowed." I said sharply. "Unless I suppose for a very good reason."

Of course the magical community was in an uproar about Sirius Blacks' escape. The dementors must be searching the train for Sirius Black. Stupid really, I doubted he'd be stupid enough to go to Hogwarts and even if he did, he wouldn't have taken the train packed with students.

Then the compartment door opened, right on cue, and I heard someone fall painfully. "Sorry- d'you know what's going on? -Ouch- sorry-"

"Hullo, Neville." Harry said, sounding just slightly exasperated.

"Harry? Is that you? What's happening?"

"No idea- sit down."

"Not there Neville, Crookshanks is over there!" I exclaimed. I heard Neville gasp and he fell again. "Sorry Neville." I whispered. At least he hadn't sat on Crookshanks. He made his way over and sat next to dad.

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on." Hermione said and I saw her shadow make its way to the door. I heard the door open and then two sounds of pain.

"Who's that?"

"Who's that?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

I nearly felt like laughing if my heart wasn't in my throat, choking it.

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for Ron-"

"Come in and sit down-"

"Not here!" Harry yelped. "I'm here!"

"Ouch!" Neville shouted.

I felt someone step on my foot and I winced in pain and yelled out, "Get off my foot!"

"Quiet!" A hoarse voice, much older than the rest said. Dad had woken up. I felt my heart fall a little more back into place.

It was quiet for some time and then there was a crackling sound and Dad stood there, holding a handful of flames. His eyes met mine- I wondered what expression they showed- and then swept around to the others. "Stay where you are." He said and started to make his way to the front of the compartment.

The door however, slid open before he reached it.

I thought it would take a moment for the coldness and despair to reach me. But the coldness, at least, was instantaneous and I realized that I was shaking violently. Then, I don't really know what happened, except that in my ears there was a screaming sound. A woman was screaming. She was screaming a name. . . In fact, I think she was screaming for James. . . my dad. Suddenly, I wanted to go deeper into the darkness and the coldness overtook me, I was sure it would freeze my heart.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" Someone very distant and far away was shouting my name. Their voice wasn't at all clear. But there were sharp stinging feelings somewhere on my body- like someone was slapping me perhaps. Was that in this nightmare, or out of it?

"JAMES, JAMES."

I jerked upwards. Dad's frightened face was above mine and we nearly collided. He sighed with relief. I found that I was still shaking though and I couldn't stop. Dad took his cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around me. The lights were on and the train was running underneath me.

My back was to everyone else and for a moment, I forgot there was anyone else because I said to dad, "I heard mum." And then I broke down into tears. They weren't loud sobs, just simple tracks running down my cheeks.

Dad pulled me in, rubbing my back, and said, "It's alright, Elizabeth." Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of chocolate and gave it to me. I sat there, on the floor, eating it. Dad stood up said, "Eat. It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me. . ."

I turned my body around slowly to see the others. Harry too, was sitting on the floor.

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" Hermione asked, watching him anxiously.

"Elizabeth?" Ron asked, hesitantly, looking between Dad, Harry, and I.

"I don't get it. . . What happened?" Harry asked. His face was sweating and he looked pale. I wondered how bad I looked.

I opened my mouth and then closed it.

"Well- that thing- the dementor- stood there and looked around. I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face. -and you-you-"

"I thought you were having a fit or something." Ron said, also looking pale. "But then I saw Elizabeth had fallen too and I realized you'd both fainted."

"Professor Lupin stepped over you, Harry, and said 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go'. He hadn't noticed Elizabeth yet. But the dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned and sort of glided away. . . Then he turned and rushed over to Elizabeth. . ." She drifted off and looked at me funny.

"It was horrible." Neville said, his voice extremely high and I was glad I didn't have to answer yet. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?"

"I felt weird, like I'd never be cheerful again." Ron said.

"How- how long was I out?" I croaked out.

Hermione hesitated and said. "Well, Harry was only out for a few seconds, maybe fifteen at most. But you were out nearly thirty or forty seconds. . . Er- who is Professor Lupin to you?"

I cleared my throat and said, "he's my dad."

Dad came back, looked at Harry and said, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know. . ." I realized I was the only one who had eaten my chocolate. Everyone else quickly stuffed their chocolate piece in their mouth.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes." Dad continued. "Are you all right, Harry?"

"Fine." Harry muttered. There was a red tinge in his cheeks and I realized he was embarrassed.

Dad passed him and sat down next to me and muttered in my ear, "Are you alright?"

I nodded and laid my head down on his shoulder, closing my eyes. I felt so warm and safe here. The train stopped after some time and I grabbed my suitcase from the rack and followed Harry, Ron, and Hermione out.

As we passed Hagrid, he called out, "All righ', you four?" We waved at him, but we did not speak to him as we approached the stagecoaches that fit four or five at a time, depending on the amount of luggage and how big the people getting into the carriage were.

I felt better, but still weak, and I didn't move much during the ride in the carriage. When we passed the iron gates, there were two dementors out there and another wave of cold washed over me, making me shiver violently. Alarmed, Ron put a hand on my shoulder, shooting a panicked look at Hermione.

"I-I'm f-fine." I muttered. "J-just c-cold."

It passed as we neared the castle. We got out of the carriage and then there was the last voice that I wanted to hear arriving to the castle.

"You fainted, Potter? And you too Kane? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You both actually fainted?"

I turned, extremely angry, to see Draco Malfoy pushing his way past Hermione to step in front of Harry and me. His eyes were gleeful and I could already see the story spreading through the castle without me actually foreseeing it in a vision. I clenched my fists, extremely close to pulling my wand and hexing him. Did I know any good hexes?

"Shove off Malfoy." I hissed at the same time as Ron.

Malfoy took a step closer to me. "You don't scare me, Kane." He was about four inches taller. This irked me a lot. But I didn't back off or lean my head backwards. I stood my ground, my eyes narrowed. Draco opened his mouth to say something else but then a different voice asked, "Is there a problem?"

Dad had gotten out of the next carriage. His voice was mild, but his eyes had a steely glint in them. Malfoy took a step back from me and looked at him. "Oh, no- er- Professor." He sneered, probably because of dad's patched robes and old and battered suitcase. My hand plunged into my robes and I drew my wand. I wasn't even sure what I was going to do, but Harry grabbed my arm. "Not worth it." he whispered in my ear.

"I'm going to kill him." I snarled. "I really am."

"Easy." Harry said. "He's not worth it."

We walked up the stairs and I was conscious of dad's eyes on my back the entire time. We passed through the entrance hall and then we were right in front of the Great Hall when I heard a voice called, "Potter! Granger! Kane! I want to see you three!"

We all turned in surprise. Professor McGonagall stood on the other side of the crowd. Her gray hair was in a tight bun. Her sharp eyes were framed with square spectacles. She always wore robes of emerald green.

"There's no need to look so worried-" she said as we were standing with her. "I just want a word in my office. Move along there, Weasley."

Ron didn't move, but he didn't go with us either. We went up a marble staircase and along a corridor until we reached her office. There was a nice warm fireplace near the back and I went to stand by it. I realized I still had dad's cloak around my shoulders and wondered why I'd never given it back.

Professor McGonagall settled herself down behind her desk and said, "Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you two, were taken ill on the train, Potter- Kane."

Before anyone else could say anything, there was an opening and closing of the door. I turned around and went to stand by Harry. It was Madam Pomfrey.

"I'm fine" Harry said in a hurried voice, his cheeks pink. "I don't need anything-"

"Oh it's you two, is it?" Madam Pomfrey asked, ignoring his statement to examine him. "I suppose you've been doing something dangerous again?"

I giggled, even though it was a serious situation, and quickly covered my mouth.

"It was a dementor, Poppy." Professor McGonagall said. They exchanged a quick look and then Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue in a disapproving way.

"Setting dementors around a school. . . They won't be the first to collapse. Yes, he's all clammy." She said, feeling Harry's pulse and forehead. "Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate."

"I'm not delicate!" Harry and I exclaimed at the same time.

"Of course you're not." Madam Pomfrey said, not really listening.

"What do they need?" Professor McGonagall asked. She sounded a bit worried, "Bed rest? A night in the hospital wing?"

I stared at her in horror.

"I'm fine!" Harry exclaimed jumping away from Madam Pomfrey.

"Well, they should have some chocolate, at the very least" Madam Pomfrey said.

"I've already had some." Harry said. "Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave it to all of us."

"Did he now?" Madam Pomfrey asked in what I thought was an approving voice. "So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"

I swelled with pride.

"Are you sure you feel all right, Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked sharply.

"Yes." Harry said, in an exasperated voice.

"Totally fine." I said quickly as possible as she turned to look at me.

"Very well. Potter, kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger and Miss Kane about their course schedules, then we can go down to the feast together." Professor McGonagall said.

Harry left with Madam Pomfrey, and Hermione and I waited for a second.

"I hope you both realize that you've signed up for every main class available, correct?"

"Yes." I said. "Hermione is over her schedule with four classes and I'm over with three."

"Correct." Professor McGonagall said. "Although I have to correct you just a tad. Miss Granger is actually over only two as well because not enough students signed up for Alchemy. This means she has all the same classes as you do, minus Magical Theory because she never signed up for it."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, looking disappointed. I wasn't sure if she was disappointed about not taking Magical Theory, disappointed because we weren't taking the same amount of classes, or disappointed that she couldn't take Alchemy. Probably all three.

"Now, the schedules with the teachers all intermix and it would normally be impossible to have such a schedule, however." Professor McGonagall opened her desk drawer and pulled out two small boxes. They were thin and white and perhaps might've held jewelry in a Muggle shop. "This-" She took of the box lids and I leaned forward to see a necklace with an hour glass attached to the bottom. "Is a time-turner."

"Oh." Hermione and I said together. "I've read about those!"

We both giggled and even Professor McGonagall grinned for a split second and returned back to her normal serious self. "I wrote to the Ministry- Professor Sprout wrote for you Miss Kane- to tell them that you were exemplary students. This was to ensure that you would be able to get these objects. I need to tell you the seriousness of these though."

I nodded. "Time traveling. We shouldn't ever put ourselves in the position that our past self could potentially see our future self. We also shouldn't tell anyone about them- not even Harry or Ron or any other teacher. They also shouldn't be used for anything except redoing classes. They shouldn't be used for personal gain, or to fix a past mistake."

Professor McGonagall sighed, "Why do I tell you anything Miss Kane?"

I blushed. "Sorry Professor."

"Well, Miss Granger, I hope you were listening to Miss Kane here. She is completely correct about everything she said though I perhaps would've gone into more detail." Professor McGonagall said, her lips turning upwards. "Now then," She slid each of us a box. I took the necklace out of the box and slipped it over my neck and tucked it under my clothes.

Professor McGonagall told us how to use it and then we left, meeting Harry outside the hallway. Professor McGonagall led us to the Great Hall. There was a sea of black pointed hats. Professor Flitwick was carrying a stool under his arm and the sorting hat under another one.

"Oh, we've missed the sorting." Hermione said in a disappointed voice.

I said good-bye to Hermione and Harry and made my way to the Hufflepuff table while they made their way to the Gryffindor one. I passed Ced and his friends who had been in the compartment with him. Ced gave me a concerned look, and I just gave him a smile, and went to sit down next to Susan. I had a good view of the teachers' table and saw Dad looking a bit shabby compared to the others. I bit my lip. Why hadn't he worn his new robes?

I still had his cloak around his shoulders, and I knew that I had to give it back to him. I couldn't do so now of course. I was no longer cold however, and slipped the cloak from my shoulders, folding it, and laying it across my legs under the table.

Professor Dumbledore stood up and said, "Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast. . ." He cleared his throat and my eyes jumped to where Snape was sitting. Our eyes met immediately and I quickly looked away, blushing.

We hadn't ended last year on a good note. I'd left him at the door to the hospital wing, unspoken words between us. I'd shut him down immediately after saying something stupid, mostly because I knew his words would be ones of rejection and I couldn't stand that.

"As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business." He paused, a bit disgusted. "They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises- or even Invisibility Cloaks."

That was a direct warning to us- Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. Would I be able to go out to the forest this year? There had never been a year where I couldn't go out to the forest.

"It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors." He finished off. "On a happier note, I am please to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year."

I sat up a little straighter, excited. "First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was scattered applause- though a great majority of the hardest applause came from the Gryffindor table. I risked another glance at Snape, who was staring at Dad with a strange expression on his face. Perhaps loathing. I was irked by that too.

"As to our second new appointment. . . Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.'

The Gryffindor table was the loudest in applause to this appointment too and I grinned in Hagrid's direction. He was red in the face and staring down at his hands, embarrassed.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I were the last to stop clapping and Dumbledore finally spoke again, "Well, I think that's everything of importance. Let the feast begin!"

I didn't eat much, picking at my food, mostly glancing up at dad. He wasn't eating much either, though he was in deep conversation with Professor McGonagall. I realized with an unsettling feeling that Professor McGonagall had taught him when he was a child. I wondered then just how old Professor McGonagall was.

Susan continuously asked me if I was okay. Naturally, the story of Harry and I fainting was all over the school. Plus, I wasn't eating much, and she thought maybe I was still nauseous. I had to keep telling her over and over that I was fine.

I did eat dessert however. Chocolate Sponge with Chocolate and a side of vanilla ice-cream was always good. I liked Halloween best though with donuts that I believed came from America. America- if I could be honest with my fellow Brits- had some of the best desserts in the world. (Trang frequently brought fun foods back with her every year).

After the feast ended, I got out of my seat quickly. I saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione approach Hagrid up at the table. Getting my courage from that, I walked up to the table to where dad was starting to get up.

He came over to me, smiling gently, "How are you feeling now?"

"Much better." I said, taking the cloak from my shoulders and handing it back up to him. "I forgot to give this back to you."

Snape was looking over at us, but I ignored him.

"Thanks sweetheart." Dad said with another smile, taking the cloak from my hands. I was happy, he rarely called me by any nicknames.

"You'll be a great teacher." I said earnestly. "I promise."

He laughed. "Oh don't worry, I'm not worried."

I grinned and then said, "Goodnight dad."

"Night Elizabeth." Dad said and as Professor Flitwick approached Dad, I ran down the steps and joined just the last trickle of Hufflepuffs as they exited the Great Hall.

Cedric had been made a prefect last year (as expected of course) and he was waiting at the door to the entrance of the common room. He took me by the arm and pulled me down the corridor and then turned to face me.

"Are you okay?" He asked in a serious voice. Some older Hufflepuff girls threw me jealous looks as they walked past.

"I'm fine, Ced, really." I said, trying my best to put on a natural smile.

"Your prediction really came true." Cedric seemed amazed.

"Well, yeah?" I asked, a bit questioning the reason he had said that.

Cedric hesitated and then said, "I'm going to sound horrible saying this, but I always thought predictions were a bit of a joke. So I never really thought that you really saw things, and I'm sorry about that."

Well good lord, no wonder everyone liked Cedric! It wasn't just that he was silent, good-looking, and kind. He apologized for things that people never thought badly about him before or things that weren't even his fault to begin with.

I ended up laughing and I said, "Ced, what are you apologizing for? I could care less about what people think about me, much less whether or not my visions come true or not." I grinned at him.

Ced grinned back and I saw a girl in the corner of my eye actually stamp her foot, and turn to her friends in anger.

"Perhaps we should stop talking." I said amused. "Your fan club seems to be a bit upset."

Ced sighed and then titled his head. "I thought you didn't care about what people thought about you?"

I laughed and then said, "Well, caring about what people say about me and worrying about being jinxed behind my back is another thing."

"Fair enough." Cedric said, sounding slightly disappointed. "But I've never really understood what's so big of a deal about me."

I stared at him with raised eyebrows and an amused expression on my face. "Uh huh. . .Well, perhaps it could be your looks. Girls like good-looking boys. Or, perhaps, it could be because you're usually very silent. Girls find silence hot- or so I'm told. Or perhaps it's because you're kind or you're the Quidditch Captain or because you're a Prefect almost certain to become Head Boy. But ya know, nothing so big about you, right?"

Cedirc actually blushed. "Er- I suppose I've never thought of it that way. . .you think I'm good-looking? And hot?"

I blushed, not answering.

"CEDRIC!" The other girls called, and then giggled.

I rolled my eyes. "Enjoy your fan club."

Cedric grimaced. "I'll let you know when Quidditch practice starts up, okay?"

"Sure thing Ced." I waved my hand and then ducked into the Hufflepuff common room and through another circle shaped door that led to the girl dorms. I climbed the stairs quickly. Susan and Hannah were talking to Leanne about the gossip magazine. Megan was already laying in bed, snoring. I didn't blame her. I was exhausted too.

I unpacked my waiting luggage into the proper drawers, setting books into the very bottom drawer and then packed my bag with my textbooks for tomorrow. I wished I had Care of Magical Creatures tomorrow- I would've liked to have punched Draco in the face- but I didn't have the class until Wednesday. Tuesday would be Defense Against the Dark Arts- my first class of dads.

Tomorrow I would have Potions (lovely on a Monday), Ancient Runes, arithmancy and Transfiguration. I couldn't wait to start ancient runes and arithmancy because those would be new subjects. And since Arithmancy was at the same time as Transfiguration, I'd have to use the time turner which was also exciting (if I didn't screw up using it, that is).

I climbed into bed, anxious for the day to come. 

⬅️➡️

[larabiatasstuff]

Hey, I love your work and was wondering if you could do a ck and kk3 when we have a headache and are stressed about the karate tournament, and he helps us calm down and go to sleep

Hey, I love your work and was wondering if you could do a ck and kk3 when we have a headache and are stressed about the karate tournament, and he helps us calm down and go to sleep

Thank you so much for your kind words anon 🖤 It really means a lot and I'm more than happy to write that for you 🙏

Kk3

"Honey, do we have some painkillers somewhere? My head is killing me." I shouted over to Terry who was lying on the bed reading a magazine. "Shit I forgot to get some, I took the last two yesterday for my back. Why, what's wrong baby?" footsteps approached the bathroom and Terry appeared in the doorframe. "Nothing serious it's just I have a really bad headache and I don't think I can focus on my training." Terrys eyes went wide. "Training? Babe we just got home from training, also you have a headache you're going nowhere in your state." "Terry the tournament is in one week, one week that's... Nothing. I don't feel like I'm ready for this yet and I want to be good, I want you to be proud of me." I felt tears welling in my eyes. I couldn't look at him so I looked down playing with my fingers. Terry pulled me close to his chest gently rubbing my back." Oh baby, why are you saying that? You are incredibly good and I'm not saying this because I'm your boyfriend. Even John said you will beat the hell out of the others. Please baby don't stress yourself too much about this. How about this, I'll run us a bath, you will get one of my special massages and after that we cuddle in bed? Let me help you relax baby, I can't stand seeing you like this. " I sighed burying my head in his chest." That sounds wonderful honey. Thank you for calming me down I...I feel like I'm under so much pressure. " " It's okay baby, alright take a seat right here and I prepare the bath okay? " with that he turned on the faucet. He added some bubble bath and rose petals and after ten minutes we were both sitting in the tub, Terry behind me softly massaging my shoulders, letting the warm water run over my tense shoulders and neck." That's feels amazing honey. Thank you so much." he placed a soft kiss on my neck. "Anything for you baby. The water is getting cold. I'll get you a towel and your pyjamas okay, I'll be right back. He got out of the tub, wrapped a towel around his waist and went to the bedroom." There you go, come here baby I help you. " he helped me dry up and change into my pyjama and before I knew it we laid cuddled up together in bed. Terry wrapped me into my favorite soft blanket and my head rested on his chest. "How's your head doing baby? Is it any better?" Terry asked playing with my hair. "It's much better honey thank you. What would I do without you?" "Don't think about that baby I'll always be there for you. Let's get some rest okay? Tomorrow will be a better day." Terry said turning the bedside lamp off. "Goodnight honey and thank you for everything. I love you." he placed a kiss on the top of my head. "I love you too baby. Sleep well."

[wanderrlust0]

i hung out with snow and 2 of their friends for their bday (2 dozen anni celebration) and it was a lot of fun!

we got to the city around 3:15 and walked to ktown. we went to this bakery they all usually go to and they had so many tasty treats, i wanted to try them all! i got a strawberry bouchee & snow got us this strawberry refresher thats kind of carbonated but it was good! it had pieces of strawberries in it so it was cute. then we walked to kinokuniya which is this huge japanese store filled with books,magazines,manga, stationery, plushies,toys,collectables, &moreeee. it had 3 stories!!! there was soo much to look at & i def wanna go back!! i told the bestie about it & she wants to go! (i didnt realize how close it was to bryant park as well. like i totally wouldve went there last time i was in bryant park if i knewww.) we were in there for like an hr. i bought a spirited away japanese book & a cute pop up holiday card for myself bc i liked the art. i wanted a small spirited away book but they only had the big one and the book that shows miyazakis sketches. i feel like i shouldve just gotten that one, even tho it was more money..maybe on my next trip. afterwards, we went to muji, then the nintendo store. so snows friends are very much gamers. well, they allll are lol & theyre into kpop, conventions, etc so theyre quite diff from my friend group but they were very nice! & they were already talking about stuff like how i have to see their friends room bc she has cool things and how they’ll force me & snow to watch the live action.. demon slayer mugen train musical…lolll yes that. we then went backkk to ktown to eat at abiko curry, which is a spot they go to a lot. it was my first time trying it and omg it was sooo good, i ate it all. ive never had korean curry so i thought it was so cool that i could add a pork chop to it and it was crispy! it was so satisfying lol it was like our first real meal of the day at 8:30. im gonna be thinking about that curry for a whilee. afterwards, we were gonna go to this place called starbucks reserve, which is like a very fancy coffee shop/bar, but we realized we wouldnt have enough time so were saving it for some other time. we got gelato that was nearby and they had such cool flavors!! lychee, guava, plum.. i got a scoop of ube and thai iced tea and they went perfect together omg i want it again. i didnt know how thai iced tea gelato would taste but it tasted exactlyyy like the drink so it was so refreshing after our curry meal. after gelato we went back to the bakery to pick up things we wanted to take home with us. we didnt get on the train until 10:30 so we got home later than i thought & i was soso tired the next morning bc i had to wake up early but it was worth it lol. oh yeah! i forgot to mention but i gave snow their bday gift & card in the car so they opened the gift before we walked to the train station and !!! they loved it so much they criedddd D; it was sweet and also shocking and funny bc like!! i didnt mean to make you cry omggg loll for context, the gift was a framed drawing i made of inumaki from jujutsu kaisen and so they said thats its literally the best gift theyve ever gotten, mostly due to it being handmade and i was like WhaTttt no wayyy. the best gift youve ever gotten?!? they knew i was gonna draw something already bc they didnt want me to buy a gift & wanted something handmade like my art but ofc they didnt know what id draw & didnt really expect me to draw Him. they saved the card for our train ride home bc when they first opened it in the car & saw so many words they couldnt read it yet lol. when snow was on their way to my house they realized they forgot my gift (for my bday) and i was like MY Gift!!?! i really dont know what it could even be… it was fun spending time with them and i feel like its a nice change to hangout with a different friend group. idk like something about it feels fun and refreshing & just different. ofc it depends how comfortable i feel with everyone. but yeahhh, it was a good day & i got to try a lot of yummi foods

(my bracelet fell off and idk where it went:(( it could be somewhere in my room or my bfs room.. i dont believe it fell off at work.. or the shower..but i dont wanna think about thatD: it wasnt really a sentimental one i guess.. but it was like a good bracelet..& old.. &cute:( im hoping it shows uppppp!!!!)

[mrs-cavill-wife]

The Skirt and The Elevator. (One Shot)

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader (Angel)

Warning: Language. Angst? Some moments of tension but fluff. Plot twist?

Author's Note: Well well that's my first fanfiction ever. I'm sorry if it is too long, it's based on dream i had. I swear I'm hyperventilating but I'm excited, hope you guys enjoy it. Yes, I put my name on the character, hope you guys don't mind. Leave some feedback and reblog it if you really like, please and thank you!

Tag List: @lexyvaldez26 @thereisa8ella @natura1phenomenon @mrsavery @number1chonie @themanfromu @littlefreya @legendarywizarddetective @lovingbearherringhairdo @zealoushound @deangal-101 @everydaymultifandom @summersong69 @jgtfvhsg @tellingyouastory @sillyrabbit81 @nuggsmum @pussyverson @oh-for-fic-sake @foodieforthoughts @fanficlover91 @r-t-doll @its--fandom--darling @poledancingdinos @hlkwrites @rmtndew

Summary: Captain Syverson has a very attractive visit, but the rebellious girl knows how to attract danger and the Captain's heart can hardly stand it.

Cap. Syverson POV

These weaklings don't know how to flex, what the fuck are they doing here? Or rather, WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING HERE?

Well, I was one step away from a few holidays, a good break, with the best company in the world .. but the 1st. Lt Anthony contacted me, he needed a good soldier, a captain to train new recruits and well, without wanting to brag, my title is not just a title.. and here I am, with these soft asses, burning under the sun.. it could be California sun, with some.. What the fuck are these brats looking at?

"Hey your pieces of shit, focus.."

I looked to the side and saw that vision, an oasis in the shape of a woman. You can call it out a skirt but swear I can see up to half of that round booty that I would love to.. SHIT, SHUT UP BRAIN, She's Anthony's daughter..

Angel's POV

I got there, with my best smile, being the owner's daughter has its advantages but I know that my Daddy won't approve of my outfit and in fact, fuck it, he knows I don't give two shits about opinions, from nobody, at all and I'm not on the best mood, my beautiful vacation was ruined, and i already had some plans but my company went down to take care of other things but I have my ways to find some fun.

Just like now, I am loving sitting in front of these soldiers, reading my magazine as they try to see something under my tiny skirt as the Captain lets fire out of his eyes. Of course he noticed me as soon as I arrived, he always does and I love to test his patience.

Hearing that rough voice yelling at the boys is a lot of fun, I like to be admired, but knowing that the Captain is losing focus? Holy shit, is certainly the best part.

I crossed my legs a few times, some times letting it sightly open and that's it, the Captain was no longer pretending to ignore me, he was looking at me with disapproval, anger.. Oh Captain, you know it turn me on baby but yeah, that's my cue to leave and I did.

When I was waiting for the elevator, I was leaning against the wall, laughing to myself, my favorite hobby, I love playing with it. I heard long, steady steps, I didn't have to look to know who it was. I thought the elevator would take longer, I mean, t's about twenty-one floors here, but the doors opened just in time, I ran inside but I wasn't fast enough, those warm hands were already holding the door and the most beautiful blue eyes I've seen were staring at me.

"What's your freaking problem, woman? Are you hating me enough to make my job difficult or are you just testing my patience?"

He asked and I looked at him with my best ironic face and mischievous smile. I touched his hand, playing with his fingers, softly, just the way he likes and I saw saw his beastly posture being tamed.

"Huh I think both.. well, actually, the three?"

He looked at me confused arching one eyebrow and that's my chance again. I managed to move his hand, taking him by surprise and quickly pressed the button for the ground floor, causing the door to close, but before the elevator moved, I screamed when the door closed.

"Focus to find the thirty reason, Captain"

Cap. Syverson POV

And the elevator closed before I could say anything else. Third reason, is it? Ok lady..

I received a text, it was one of the recruits, saying that my daughter was here. I know, it's not the place for a five-month-old baby but well, it's a quiet day and I was just finishing the beginners' training, or almost training because it was ruined by beautiful legs and a skirt that I'm dying to tear up if I see again and I was planning going home after. Suddenly I heard a loud noise and a familiar scream, the elevator was creaking and the owner of the 'little mind-destroying skirt' was in panic. My phone rang and one of the soldiers told me it was for the elevator is undergoing maintenance, but for me not to worry, powders were already solving the problem.

"Not to worry? NOT TO WORRY?There's a woman who can die if the elevator goes down… What's wrong with you? Why didn't they tell you before the elevator was going to be under maintenance? I'm going there to the ground floor"

I hung up after yelling at the top of my lungs. I ran to the emergency stairs. Twenty-one floors.. OF STAIRS ... great, well, weren't you the one who was bragging, Syverson? Time to show your strength.

Angel's POV

I just went through the twenty minutes of pure agony of my whole life, in fact, in my head, it felt like hours. But at least, I was out of the elevator, one of the soldiers fanned me while I drank a glass of cold water and recovered my breath. I took out my cell phone and saw that it had an unread message. It was from the kindergarten. Oh shit, she was already here. I gave the glass to one of the soldiers and ran to the lobby and relieved myself with the view. After almost having a heart attack, seeing my daughter and her father, the loves of my life together.. everything I need.

He ran up to me with our princess on his lap and touched my right shoulder, looking at me with distress, nervous, shaking and cold hands.

"Baby, I had to get her first.. are you alright? Any wound? I'll kill those motherfuckers but first let's get a cab, I'll take you to the emergency.."

I giggled and touched his beard face, gave him a soft peck and hugged him tightly while our little princess looked at me and touched my cheek making me smile.

"Sy, it's over. I'm alright, baby"

I kissed our daughters hand then looked at him and my heart smashed seeing a single tear falling through his cheek.

"I.. I don't know what I would do without you. I need you two in my life.. shit, I shouldn't had accepted to come.. I ruined our vacation"

I interrupted him giving another soft peck in his lips.

"But you don't wanted to disappoint my dad aka your boss aka your father in law.. I know, love. It's all alright. We can have another vacation soon and we're together, it's all the matters, right?"

I saw he smiling softly at me then at our daughter while she played with his beard, then he hugged us tight as he could.

"Yes, that's all that matters, love."

After a few seconds, he separated us and smirked. I know this smirk..

"But I didn't forgot what you caused.. I will tear apart this skirt when we head home"

I giggled and kissed him softly ending the kiss with a light bite on his bottom lip.

"Mmm I'm counting on that, Cap"

[startanewdream]

Godfather duty

Summary: When James is surprised by Sirius and Harry coming home drunk four in the morning, he questions himself when he got too old for that.

For @theblueocean 

Part of the Jily Lives AU

Rated M for mentions of underage drinking and some swearing.

Read on AO3 with all the correct italics, or below the cut:

_________

His eyelids feel heavy, but James keeps writing. He is almost finishing the first draft of the article for Transfiguration Today; it's due Sunday and he still has five days to finish it, but James is really anxious for presenting it. It's not his first paper for that magazine, but his article will be the headline this time, and he promised himself he would send them in advance as much as he could - and he still needs to send it to Minerva for her to read and review.

It feels a lot like he is back in school doing essays, but James doesn't remember being that excited back at Hogwarts - well, not about homework anyway.

He puts the final dot and lets the quill rest, satisfied. He will proofread in the morning, maybe even rewrite altogether from a different perspective, but it's done and it's a competent article, he knows.

Human transfiguration was always a point of interest to him.

He raises, stretching up and looking at his watch. It's past four in the morning already; he really lost track of time. He remembers Lily calling him to go to bed - and then he promised her he would go in a minute, which he clearly forgot.

He suppresses a yawn as he leaves the library, thinking only of sinking on his bed when he hears a sound coming from the front porch.

All his sleepiness is gone instantly, and he turns with his wand already raised, alarmed and with his instincts screaming even though it’s been months since the war ended; someone is turning the doorknob. The spell is almost leaving his lips when the door opens wide and he sees Harry's joyful face.

Harry is not alone; Sirius is with him, their arms around each other in a brotherly gesture and for a moment James has a flashback of himself with Sirius with that same easiness, both of them beaming happily and goofy; it's a memory of twenty years ago, of a night they went around Muggle London joining a pub crawl that ended up with James' mother finding them passed out in the middle of the Potter’s living room in Godric’s Hollows.

A lot of things happened that night - a flight from the Muggle police when they tried to climb Cleopatra’s Needle, an attempt to perform a serenade to Lily only to realize they were on the wrong street and throwing eggs at Grimmauld Place number twelve - but what he remembers clearer is the smell of the alcohol on him as he woke up next morning - and then the taste of it all as he threw it all up.

And right now Sirius and Harry have that same smell of cheap whiskey mixed with beer.

James blinks, confused. As far as he thought, Harry had been back from work hours ago - James was sure Harry had been sleeping on his bed right now.

It’s evident he was wrong.

‘Hi, Prongs’, Sirius says, grinning from ear-to-ear, sounding much steadier than James would have guessed from the smell coming from them. ‘Care to let us in?’

'What's going on?', James asks, worried, stepping aside to let them enter. Both of them are stumbling, but James has the impression that Sirius is supporting Harry more than the opposite.

For some reason his question makes them look at each other.

'What I said?', Sirius asks Harry as if they are sharing some old joke. Harry lets out of one of his rare carefree giggles. 'What d'you think we are doing, dear Prongs?'

'Coming home drunk in the middle of the night?’

‘Chill out, Dad’, Harry says, winking at him.

Chill out?

‘It’s four in the morning of a Tuesday - I thought you were home already!’

‘I had to work late’, Harry answers immediately, grinning. Sirius takes him to the living room, trying to help him on the couch, but Harry slides to the floor, falling on the carpet.

‘On a bar?’

‘It’s for work’, Harry insists, eyes open as if that was obvious. 

‘It was a very important mission’, Sirius agrees. ‘Stealth. Mixing with locals. Spying on people’.

‘Oh, were there Death Eaters on that bar?’, James asks, rolling his eyes.

‘It could have been! Harry needs to know how to handle his alcohol!’

Harry giggles.

‘I handle it very well’, he says proudly, clapping his hands. ‘Tell him, Sirius’.

‘He won us money on darts. He even closed his eyes for the last shot. You would be proud!’

‘That you were letting my barely out-of-age kid bet on games?’

Sirius rolls his eyes.

‘Everything was under control, he won. Stop worrying, I was on godfather duty tonight -’

‘Between a drink and another, you mean?’

‘ - and I brought him home, right?’

‘Speaking of that’, James raises his eyebrows, now sounding openly reproachful. ‘How did you come home? Don’t tell me you drank and apparated’.

‘I would never!’

‘Or that motorbike - if you came here flying, I swear I will -’

‘Relax, Dad!’, Harry intervenes, now raising on a jump, ignoring how he tumbles in the process. ‘We got a cab. Eeeeeeverything under control’.

James watches his son go to the cabinet in the room, searching for something until he takes out a feather to doodle something on a parchment, not realizing it’s a grocery list.

‘I see the control’, he says dryly. ‘What are you doing, Harry?’

‘I am making a howler’.

‘What? What for?’

‘To howl, duh - hey!’, he turns to Sirius, his eyes sparkling madly. ‘Remus never sends letters - he only sends howlers!’

Sirius chuckles. ‘I howl too! Owoooooo!’

‘Hey, hey, you are going to wake up Lily!’

‘And?’

‘And maybe you don’t want her to see what you did to Harry - Harry, stop that, you are not sending anyone a howler’.

‘I have to tell Ginny I love her!’

‘She already knows, I am sure, you’ve told her’.

‘But I never yelled it!’

‘And she loves you more because of that, come on, give me that letter’.

‘I knew he wouldn’t let you send it’, Sirius says, his voice now smug. ‘Prongsie is old’.

James rolls his eyes.

‘Same age as you, Pads’, he remembers distantly, taking the letter from Harry, though now he realizes he didn’t need to worry. Harry’s letter is unintelligible and he doubts he could cast the spell to turn into a howler.

Harry pouts.

‘Sirius is right, you are square’.

‘What?’

‘We can never have fun’.

‘And you are so serious - more than me, haha!’, Sirius adds, now laying down lazily on the couch, his legs spread. James is about to complain that his shoes are all muddy and Sirius should take them out, but he stops.

Oh, Merlin, he is really getting a bit square, isn’t he?

‘I can be fun’, he stresses, making Sirius let out one of his bark laughs.

‘Yeah, years ago. Before you were a dad - no offence, Harry’.

Harry doesn’t seem to have heard him, which James considers a shame. Harry would surely defend him - he was a cool dad to Harry.

No, he is still a cool dad. The kind that Harry can feel at will to talk about anything, that supports Harry and that is always there for him.

Except that Harry didn’t tell him about working late tonight or going to a bar. Except Harry and Sirius didn’t ask for his company.

And if they did - he thinks of the paper he just finished and how excited he was for it.

He would have said no.

That’s not very cool of him.

‘I will take a flight!’, Harry declares, his eyes shining with this idea and for once James doesn’t feel satisfied with the mischievousness in him.

‘No drinking and flying’, James says sternly, and he decides that he will have to remain uncool for a little longer. ‘You - you stay here! Sirius - watch him. Better than you did so far, I mean’.

Sirius grimaces, evidently annoyed, but he sits next to Harry, who is now mumbling something incomprehensible, though Sirius seems to be listening to him with attention. James leaves them in the living room, locking the door behind him just in case, and goes to Lily’s office hoping she has stored a Hangover Potion. He is in no luck, of course; it’s been years since he and Lily even needed one - James believes it comes with the age knowing when to stop - and there was nothing in Harry’s latest behaviour that showed them they would need it.

For a second James almost considers waking up Lily, knowing she would make the potion in minutes, but he doesn’t want her to see the mess Harry is right now; it’s far better she hears it later than witnessing first hand. He grabs a small cauldron and the ingredients he will need and returns to the living room.

In the few minutes he was out, Harry and Sirius managed to make things strangely worse. There is snow in the room, that he sees Sirius casting from his wand; Harry is perfectly still, the snow making a sort of white hat on his head, his arms wide open and also covered in snow.

‘What -’, James tries to ask, but he just blinks at the weirdness on the scene.

‘Shhhh’, Sirius says, a finger on his lips. ‘Don’t distract him!’

‘What is Harry doing?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? Disguise training! He is a snowman!’

‘He is missing a carrot nose’, James notes, grimacing, and that makes Sirius turn his wand to Harry’s face. ‘I am joking!’

It’s too late; there is a flash of light and then there is a carrot on Harry’s face, replacing his nose.

‘Sirius!’, Harry complains, raising his hand to touch his new nose. His voice is muffled. ‘I can’t have a nose this big! How can I snog Ginny now?’

‘That’s your concern?’, James asks, half-amused, now taking out Sirius’ wand to make sure he doesn’t cast any more magic.

‘I will poke her in the eye!’, Harry says, moping, scratching the tip of his pointy nose thoughtfully.

‘I will transform you back as soon as you drink this potion, now lay still’. Harry sighs, sitting on the couch. Sirius sits next to him, patching him in the back as if he weren’t the one that turned Harry’s nose into a carrot in the first place.

‘Your nose matches her hair’, he says bracingly. ‘You will look beautiful together’.

‘I am not sure this is much comfort, Padfoot’, James notes, placing the cauldron in the fireplace and starting to throw in the ingredients. He could add something for the taste, but he believes the bitterness helps build character.

‘Well, I got him quiet, didn’t I?’, Sirius asks, pointing at Harry who is now sitting on the couch, still playing with his carrot nose.

‘You could have messed up so badly’.

‘I am not that drunk - I watched over your kid, no matter what you think of me’.

James shakes his head.

‘Letting him drink that much? He barely can stand - what if someone -’

‘The war is over, James’, Sirius tells him, sounding much grim now. ‘And like I said, I was there. Me, half-a-dozen junior Aurors and some seniors too’.

‘Unless any Death Eater threat would be a challenge to a drinking contest, I don’t think it would make much difference’.

‘Oh, Merlin’. Sirius sighs, walking to the drink cabinet and opening it to take a bottle of firewhiskey. ‘Here, drink this’.

‘What?’

‘You are sober, I hate talking to sober people when I am pissed. Sober people are boring’.

‘I am not boring’, James complains, pushing away the bottle that Sirius extends in his direction. ‘And I am past the age of being forced to drink to look cool’.

‘Then drink because it’s nice!’, Sirius says forcefully now. ‘Drink because you are alive! Drink because you are happy! Drink because for the first time in his life your son is properly pissed!’

‘That’s not a reason -’

‘That’s enough reason! He is eighteen! What age were we when we first got pissed?’

‘Seventeen’. Sirius raises his eyebrows, waiting for him, and James flushes, turning his attention to the cauldron. The potion is almost over. ‘Fine, fifteen - but it didn’t count, we weren’t thinking straight then’.

‘Yeah. Our first transformation’, Sirius remembers, but there is something heavy on his voice now.

‘What is the problem, Padfoot?’

‘Nothing’. 

That makes James stop. He takes the cauldron out of the fire, to let the potion cool down, and turns to Sirius, watching him. Sirius’ eyes are watery as he always gets when he drinks, but he sustains James’ look for a surprisingly full two minutes before he sighs.

‘Fine, you are the problem’.

‘Me? You take my son out for a drink without telling me, return home four in the morning and I am the problem?’

‘Look at what you are saying! He is of age! He was with his friends - and his very trustable godfather! He was having fun for once in his life, instead of living that responsible life you want for him’.

‘Responsible?’, James repeats, dumbfounded. Nobody had ever accused him of wanting to do the responsible thing. ‘I am just being his father’.

‘Well, maybe Harry doesn’t need his father anymore’.

There is a long pause after that. James blinks, once, twice, very slowly, trying to understand what Sirius means by that, and it’s only when he reaches for the drink cabinet to get a glass for the potion, that Sirius moves.

‘Shit - I didn’t mean like that - sorry, James, it’s not -’

‘No, I get it’, James says, his voice forcefully steady. ‘Harry wants the cool father figure that allows him everything - and, well, Sirius “what’s life without a little risk” Black is perfect for that’.

‘Don’t be absurd - that kid worships the ground you walk upon -’

‘And yet he was with you, not me. I get it. I am a father, not a friend’. He offers Sirius a full glass. ‘Drink this, you’ll feel better tomorrow’.

‘No, I deserve the hangover tomorrow, but that’s beside the point. It’s my fault’.

‘I don’t think you forced Harry to drink’, James notes dryly, sitting next to Harry to help him drink the potion. Harry seems to be in another world now, but he obliges to James’ help without questioning.

‘No, that was all on him - I mean it, he’d make you proud, he won a drinking contest with Thompson and he is twice Harry’s size - er, not helping, sorry’. Sirius sits on the other side of Harry. ‘He was going to tell you we’d be out for a drink. And I didn't let him'.

'Why? Why would you -'

'Because I thought you would overreact. Worry too much about him. Don't let him have any fun'.

'I would not -'

'And because I thought he'd ask you to come’.

James blinks. Between them, Harry lays his head on James' shoulder, now watching Sirius with mild curiosity.

‘I would ask’, he agrees, a note of pride in his voice. 

'Am I that bad company?', James asks in a low voice. Sirius shakes his head.

'Would you come with us?', he challenges. James keeps his gaze for a few seconds, but just like Sirius didn't lie for him before, he wouldn't dare speak anything but the truth.

'No, I had things to do today'.

'That article', Sirius scoffs. 'You don't talk about anything else'.

James frowns.

'It's really important - a chance of -'

'Getting yourself a name, I know, I know. But see -', his grey eyes are burning over James now, somewhat desperate. 'The Prongs I know would never care for reputation'.

'Sirius…'

'The Prongs I know would be honest with me'.

'I am - what are you -'

'I heard you and Kingsley, ok?', he blows off. 'Registering as an animagus? After all this time?'

There is another silence, broken only by the crackling fire.

'I was going to tell you', James says finally. 'I didn't think it was important - you don't have to register too -'

'That's not the point - you are breaking our trust -'

'It's just an entry on a list. It doesn’t change anything, I will keep our full moon nights -'

'When Remus has time, you mean?', he asks, sounding bitter now. 'He missed the last two, he'd rather stay home -'

'He has a kid now -'

'So do you and… you guys are getting old and responsible and too serious for me'.

'Nobody is more serious than you', James says, smiling at him, but Sirius just rolls his eyes and grabs the bottle of firewhiskey on the coffee table, taking a sip.

James extends his hand. Sirius raises one eyebrow, in disbelief, and his expression only relaxes a little when James takes a long sip of the firewhiskey. The drink burns his throat, infusing him with that weird dose of courage and a will to do something, but James just sighs.

'You are no less serious because of it', Sirius notes.

'I got serious - the war, the first one and then the second one and everything - and I think I forgot how to relax - but that doesn't mean… you are my brother, Sirius'.

'The annoying prettier baby brother?'

'You are older', James says, grinning, and after a second of hesitation, Sirius smiles too. 'You can invite me - I mean, we can do things together. Even if it sounds - or is - stupid'.

'Things together like… registering our animagus form?'

James rests against the couch, and Harry moves his head to rest more comfortably on his shoulders; James thinks he will sleep soon.

'You don't need to do it too - Kingsley already knows about you and he is the bloody Minister of Magic, isn't he? This was not about doing the responsible thing'.

'Then why -'

'I want the credit'. James presses his lips, before admitting something he didn't even share with Lily yet. 'I talked to Minerva - if I get back to my studies, get enough recommendation to be approved by the board, I could get her position'.

Sirius blinks, startled.

'Her position? You mean -'

'Transfiguration professor, yeah'.

He looks away now, feeling somewhat embarrassed. It had never really been an ambition - teaching was much more something Remus had always wanted to do than him; James had been glad to focus on his studies and develop new theories of transfiguration until then. 

But ever since Minerva had vented that possibility to him a few weeks after the end of the war, when they were repairing one of the halls destroyed in the battle, that thought had been on his mind. He wasn't in a rush, but the idea of getting back to Hogwarts, this time as a professor, watching other students learn from him as much as he had learned from Minerva McGonagall… he couldn't deny that idea had taken root in his mind.

James always teased her that he had been her favourite student, but the fact was that she was his favourite professor and there was some part of him that wanted to impress her and prove himself good enough to replace her someday.

He waits for Sirius' response, but there is only a silence that doesn't seem good.

'I know it's huge', James mumbles. 'There are others far more capacitated than me, I am starting now to -'

'Shut your mouth, Prongs', interrupts Sirius, and James turns to him. There is a grin on his face. 'Being humble never suited you'.

James laughs softly.

'I wasn’t trying to', he assures him.

'I thought - I thought you had wanted to do the right thing. You know, registering just because you wanted to follow the law, as if… as if you were ashamed of what we did illegally -'

'Now it's you who needs to shut up, Padfoot'. He takes another sip of the firewhiskey. ‘Animagus at age of fifteen? I’m damn proud of it. Also, that’s the only thing that I have done that’s cooler than half the stuff Harry got into’.

‘Yeah, I suppose it’s hard when your son is a bloody hero’.

Harry chooses that moment to start snoring loudly, which sends James and Sirius into a fit of laughter. James raises, careful to let Harry sleep on the couch, and Harry doesn’t look remotely close to waking up.

‘I am glad you took him out for a drink’, James says, taking out Harry’s glasses. ‘I was just jealous - it should have been me’.

‘I am sure there will be another occasion’, Sirius says dismissively. ‘He will probably forget every embarrassing thing he did, you know how that works’.

‘Oh, he embarrassed himself?’, James asks, a glint of fun on his eyes. Sirius smirks.

‘That happy giggling Harry you saw? Just the last stage. He was all cocky at first - that’s how we got into that darts bet’.

‘Harry? My son? Cocky?’

‘Oh, yeah, he reminded me a lot of you’, Sirius’ smirk increases. ‘He was strutting and all’.

‘Tell me you took pictures of it’.

‘I would never’, Sirius declares, though James isn’t sure he believes him this time. ‘And then he got very… honest’.

‘That doesn’t sound good for that stealth mission’.

Sirius shakes his head.

‘If he was spilling out Auror secrets I would be happier - no, instead I had to hear about the time he and Ginny -’

‘Nope, nope, I don’t want to know’.

‘Well, me neither, I won’t ever use your Invisibility Cloak again, you can be sure. But anyway - that’s why he got here so drunk. I decided vodka was the only way to shut him up properly’.

Sirius looks so satisfied with himself and his choices, that James knows what he has to do.

‘It’s late’, he says pleasantly. ‘Crash here tonight’.

‘Oh, I think I will - I am not fit to apparate’.

‘Let’s go upstairs then’.

‘And Harry?’

‘Oh, look at him. He is sleeping so well, he can stay here tonight’.

‘If you are sure’.

‘Yeah, yeah, everything will be fine’.

_________

James has slept barely four hours when he wakes up with Lily’s cry. He puts on his robe lazily, waiting a few minutes to go downstairs; when he passes Sirius’ room, the door is already opened.

Good.

He finds them all together in the toilet next to the kitchen, and by the sounds coming out of there, his Hangover Potion wasn’t very efficient.

‘We were working late, Lily’, Sirius is saying, sounding properly desperate. ‘And we went out for a drink -’

‘It was a Tuesday night! He has to work in one hour!’

‘So do I - but you see, I’m his boss, so everything is fine! Also, I don’t think any of the boys will show up -’

‘Perfect’, Lily interrupts him, her eyes sending daggers in Sirius’ direction. ‘Then you can take care of him’. She sees James. ‘Did you know about this?’

‘Me? I was working late on my text, you know’, he answers, yawning and looking very innocent.

Sirius waits until Lily is out for the kitchen to turn to James, his eyes narrowed.

‘You knew she would be mad. That’s why you told me to stick around’.

‘If I knew how my dear wife would react to knowing you got our son pissed? How could I?’

Sirius grimaces as there is another retching sound coming from the bathroom.

‘Oh, you better go there and don’t forget to keep Harry hydrated’.

‘Watch it’, Sirius says, but he goes into the bathroom anyway. ‘I won’t ever show you the pictures’.

James shrugs, undisturbed.

‘That’s fine. Next time Harry gets drunk, I will be there’.

‘I won’t ever ever ever drink again’, Harry moans, hugging the toilet seat now, his face sweaty.

‘Oh, kid, we’ve all been there’, Sirius sighs, flushing down the toilet and helping Harry raise.

James grins to himself, glad that Sirius is doing his godfather duty once again, and leaves them alone.

[astrangewoman]

does anyone have any advice for an american wanting to move out of the country?

I am queer, my partner is trans, and we have a few feathered animals (chickens, 2 turkeys, and 2 ducks), cats, and a dog. I would prefer not to have to give up my feathered babies, but I know they pose some potential problems moving forward. I read somewhere that it’s doable if we get them vaccinated, but I’m sure it just depends on the country.

see below for more context if you want.

(please be kind. I am extremely scared rn and I don’t think I can deal with any mean remarks tbh)

I have a bachelor’s degree in English literature, I have completed some masters-level coursework, and I currently work as a “creative content manager” for a large public land-grant research university. I’ve also worked as a technical writer, 3rd grade teacher, and a community engagement coordinator.

here’s a bulleted list of the things that I do in my current job: (be prepared; I do a lot)

all print/digital graphic design work for the college

oversee graphic design and social media communications done by departments

manage, design, and create all social media content for the college (we have the largest social media following of any college on campus with just shy of 10k followers on Instagram)

all email marketing for the college, including alumni, cross-campus/system, and occasional donor correspondence

content writing for the college’s website and our digital magazine (aka fancy blog)

manage said fancy blog

I also currently manage the college website while we hire a replacement for my coworker who retired

I will eventually be the creative director for the college’s print magazine that’s been on hold since I started this job bc the pandemi

event planning and coordination for the college’s welcome events for 1st year students

design graphics for and manage content on the digital monitors throughout the 4 buildings in our college via Hypersign

I am an inaugural member of the college’s DEI Advisory board, where I help create a more equitable and inclusive environment through program planning, bilaw writing, and meetings with our dean

I am also a marketing & communications liaison for the college’s Office of DEI, where I sometimes design graphics, manage email communications, and create content for them (they also have a grad student who helps). I promote their initiatives and programming across campus and on social media. I design swag for them, as well.

speaking of swag, I handle the designing, ordering, and coordinating of swag materials for the college as a whole

train people in the college in a) using Canva as a marketing tool and b) maintaining branding guidelines/unity within the overarching university brand

I also guest lecture on using Canva twice a year in a marketing class on campus

that’s all I can think of rn. I’m sure I forgot something.

anyway, any advice would be really appreciated. we’re queer living in Appalachia and I’m terrified at the moment. oh also we’re legally married (until the country decides that’s not a thing anymore)

[whumpmatsus]

28 Kara is cute, one would say too cute to suffer. Not me. Maybe fic where he is feeling really sick, but being the quiet one he is forgotten for a while? Or something. Pls and thanks.

haha, nobody is EVER too cute to suffer here! including precious baby 18!Kara~ <3

I had fun with this, I hope you like it! c:

-

It’s pouring rain when the rest of the sextuplets come to walk Karamatsu home from the train station, and he doesn’t want to go out in it.

Today’s drama club meeting wasn’t a very good one. The teacher leading it got focused on the two lead actors for the play which the club is showing tomorrow night, because they were both fighting and at each other’s throats. Most of the others ignored Karamatsu in favor of being on their phones or reading magazines or running lines while the teacher was busy with the leads.

Finally, in a twist that puts the cherry on the horrible meeting sundae, despite the fact that he’s playing a small part, Karamatsu messed up his own lines every single time. The others were so irritated with him, he wished the floor would just swallow him up.

Usually he’s so good with acting. It’s something he’s passionate about and enjoys and takes pride in. Today… it’s not that he’s nervous about the production. It’s that he just feels awful.

He’s been tired since he woke up, he’s warm and clammy at the same time, his throat is scratchy, he keeps coughing and sneezing, and any part of his body that doesn’t have a specific complaint is simply achy. Mommy noticed that he wasn’t feeling well when she sent them all to school, but he begged her not to keep him home, and since he didn’t have a fever this morning, she let him go.

There’s… definitely a fever running through him now, though. He thought for sure his brothers would notice and maybe ask him if there was anything they could do; instead, he’s been behaving so normally as far as they’re concerned, with his quiet nature and tendency to cry over small things, that not a single one of them has picked up on it.

On top of everything else, he forgot his umbrella. It was supposed to be sunny today, so he had to walk from school to the train without one, and now when he gets out of the station, he has to go out into the rain with barely any protection.

Although he’s crying by the time he reaches his brothers, it blends in pretty well with the rain.

Thankfully, all his brothers are carrying umbrellas, so he huddles under Osomatsu’s and presses himself against his older brother’s side. Osomatsu immediately accommodates him, pulling Karamatsu in to get dry. “Hey, bro! Geez, you’re shaking like a leaf. Sorry you didn’t have your umbrella!” He chuckles and tousles Karamatsu’s hair. “That’s what you get for picking a nerd hobby that’s right after school so you don’t have time to go home and get anything.”

“Don’t listen to him, Kara ― your hobby is just fine,” Choromatsu hums. He’s busy trying to entertain Totty, who’s doing his damnedest to attach himself to Choromatsu’s hip. “Now, guys, it’s raining out here, so can we please go home and get some tea? If we stay out here much longer, we’re gonna catch colds, and I do not want to be sick for graduation.”

Jyushimatsu scoffs. “That’s still two weeks away. We’d be fine, dumbass.”

Choromatsu’s face turns bright red. “W-well, if you’re fine getting sick regardless, you can go jump in the puddles for all I care!”

A smile briefly flashes across the second youngest’s face. “Really??” And just like that, he’s back to looking constantly angry. “Naaah… that shit’s for babies!”

They all begin to walk, and Ichimatsu shakes his head. “Ah, Karamatsu-nii-san… some of my friends wanted to come see that play tomorrow. What time does it start, again?”

“U-uh.” Karamatsu sniffles a few times, nuzzling against Osomatsu’s shoulder. “7 P.M. for the first one. Then there’s another showing at… at 8:30. I… don’t know if I’m… going to go, though.”

“What??” Choromatsu frowns as the six of them stop for the crosswalk. “You’ve never had stage fright before. You’ll be fine once you get up on the stage.”

“I don’t know, Choro…”

“Oh, come on, Kara-nii-san. Don’t cry like that… you made a commitment! You don’t wanna let your club down, right?”

Karamatsu reaches up to try and wipe the tears away. Not only is it kind of ineffective because his rain-soaked bangs keep dripping down his face, his hand keeps brushing against parts of his acne as he tries, which is painful. “Y-yeah, but…”

Osomatsu gives his little brother a squeeze that he thinks is supposed to be reassuring. It’s a bit rough, though. “No ‘but’s unless you’re grabbing a girl’s butt, Kara! You got this! You’ve done this shit before and totally nailed it. You usually don’t have too many lines, anyway, so it’s not that bad, is it?”

God, he should have a little more backbone. He should be able to say things decisively and not just fall silent when his brothers push him like this. Actually, if he just managed to say outright that he’s sick, they wouldn’t even be saying anything like this stuff. Right now they just think it’s pre-curtain jitters, which happens, which they can usually shake him out of because they know he loves acting.

Funnily enough, even though he doesn’t have much of a spine himself, this crappy cold of his evidently thinks this is the perfect time to speak up. The congestion he’s been fighting blossoms into something insistent that he can’t ignore, and he quickly ducks his face down between his hands.

“― Hh’DSHH! Hah’DTchh! Hd’TCHHuu! Ahh’DTSCHhhoo!”

A volley of coughs rides on the tail end of the last sneeze, so much that he can barely get a breath in. Each one makes his all-over soreness sharpen for a second, unbearable pinpricks of pain across his whole body. The coughs make something in his chest crackle and it hurtsand suddenly he’d pulled into a protective hug.

Part of him wishes he could just pull away. The part of him that wants to lean into the contact wins out, allowing him to nestle into his older brother’s chest as he continues to cough.

“Shit, Karamatsu!” Osomatsu starts rubbing his little brother’s back in an attempt to help break up the fit. “The fuck, man? That sounds nasty. You coming down with something?”

Karamatsu can feel the others hovering closer, murmuring in concern among themselves. The coughs finally taper off and he scrubs at his eyes, no matter how much it hurts, even as more tears start to bubble up. “Y-yeah… I woke up sick…”

“What??” Choromatsu sounds almost like he’s been betrayed or something. “You should have stayed home! Ah… wait… wait, you walked all the way to the station from school in the rain when you already have a cold? That’s a great way to end up with a sinus infection or pneumonia! Shit, we gotta get you home…”

��Sorry…” Karamatsu manages to croak out, followed by more sniffles. Thanks to the cold air and the sneezing, his nose has started running again. “U-uh… does anyone have tissues…? I used all mine already…”

Ichimatsu starts to dig around in his pockets. “Yeah, I think I have some.”

As he hands over a small pack to his older brother, Osomatsu gives a protective squeeze. “Hey, Choro, don’t blame Karamatsu for all this. He should have said something, sure, but it’s not all on him here. We should have noticed something was up. Right? We’re his brothers.”

Karamatsu lets out a small whine of protest, pressing a tissue over his nose. It would have been nice for them to notice, but… it’s not like it’s their job. They don’t owe it to him to pay attention to him. “I-it’s not your fault…”

Before anyone else can say a word, Totty lets go of Choromatsu and darts over to circle his arms around Karamatsu’s waist. He’s sort of wedging himself between Karamatsu and Osomatsu, pretty clearly wanting to be with both of them. “Ah! We love you, Karamatsu-nii-chan!! We’ll take good care of you!”

“… Yeah,” Choromatsu chuckles. He reaches over to pat Karamatsu’s back. “I’m sorry we weren’t paying enough attention to notice you weren’t feeling well. But we’re gonna get you home and tucked into bed. And I’m sure Mom will call the drama club teacher to tell her you can’t perform tomorrow night.”

Jyushimatsu hums, and he appears to be trying very hard not to smile wide like he wants to do. “We’re probably all gonna catch it, right?”

Ichimatsu chuckles softly. “Yeah, that’s what usually happens.”

“So… we can go stomp in puddles, right? Since we’re gonna get sick anyway?”

“No, no, no,” Choromatsu immediately speaks up, “no stomping in puddles! We have to get Kara home!”

Of course, it’s too late. Jyushimatsu has run off ahead of them all, launching himself into every puddle he can find, his face switching between an irritated scowl and a borderline maniacal grin.

Totty’s still clinging to Karamatsu, snuggling against his shoulder. “We’ll all get to be sick together! That means we get to stay home from school for a couple days. We can sleep and watch movies and have a big cuddle puddle.”

Choromatsu sighs. “As long as we don’t miss the commencement ceremony, that’s okay. I guess the last few weeks of our senior year don’t matter too much with regard to schoolwork, anyway. Especially since we’re already adults.”

Another few coughs are muffled against Osomatsu’s chest, prompting everyone to give a brief stroke to Karamatsu’s back or hair. “Well, before we catch it,” Osomatsu says, “we’ve gotta get this geek home and throw his ass in bed. He’s really warm… feels like his skin’s gonna burn his clothes up. C’mon, Kara. We’ll get you wrapped up in a blanket, then maybe I can help Mom make some kayu to make you feel better.”

“Mm…” Well. That does sound pretty good. “… W-with umeboshi on top?”

“Yeah, sure! Whatever you want! And Choro can make some tea, Totty can pick out a movie, Ichi can get a cold cloth for your forehead, and Jyushi…” Osomatsu blinks and peers out where their fifth eldest is… way ahead of them. “What can Jyushi do?”

Choromatsu blows out a slow, frustrated breath. “… Stay out of the way??”

Totty giggles. “He can be the bodyguard! We’ll station him outside the room, and if any of Ichimatsu-nii-chan’s friends come by to try and take Ichimatsu-nii-chan away, Jyushi-nii-chan will scare them off!”

“Hey, yeah! That’s a good idea, Totty!”

“What? Why do you want to scare my friends away?”

“Because Karamatsu-nii-chan’s sick! They can’t drag you off somewhere when your big brother needs you! That’d be mean.”

“A-ah, hahahah… he’d be fine without me, but… I can just say no! We don’t need Jyushi to scare them away.”

“We miiiiiiight! At least, it would be funny!”

Karamatsu offers a tiny laugh, which quickly turns into another couple of coughs. He puts a weak arm around Totty and wonders how he’s going to keep his eyes open for the rest of the walk home. He thinks they’re not too far away, though.

“Thanks, guys… this… this might not be such a bad day after all…”

[seoracle]

DRIVERS LICENSE; i

Pairing: Bang Chan x Idol! Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fake Dating! AU, Angst, Lovers to Enemies(?), Occasional Pining, Comedy, S for potential smut(??)

Summary: Y/N has become an overnight sensation with ‘Drivers License’, Breaking records left and right...But what if the press gets wind of the ill-matched lovers and their company decide it’s the perfect attention ploy?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Swearing (a lot near the end), Drinking mention

A/N: this was meant to be a drabble... now it’s becoming a series...i’m sorry

“...and the winner of Inkigayo today is...Y/N with ‘Drivers License, Congratulations!”

You step towards the center of the stage and take the trophy and bouquet from a rookie idol, who flashes a bright smile at you, but you can see the envy in his eyes. You once had that same hunger and ambition that he seems to reek of, it’s a reminder of how far you’ve come.

Taking the mic, you begin to sing a more sultry and edgier vibe than usual, which seems to gather more screams from fans than usual. You remember what Seulgi taught you and gaze at the camera lens with a subtle pout, trying to capture the angst of the song in your gaze.

It feels ridiculous, feigning emotions you no longer feel, singing a song you begged the company not to put out in a corset fitted shirt that’ll leave your ribs sore and reddened. It’s pathetic and cliche, you quite literally sold your soul (well, heart) for fame. 

“Yeah, you said forever, now I drive alone past your street…”

Everyone behind you waves at the camera, signalling the show is ending. You leave last, taking several confetti bits for your scrapbook, which is the only thing keeping you from remembering this is all real. 

Backstage, Iris and San are waiting in your dressing room, they greet you with proud grins and slaps on the back. 

“Well, if it isn’t miss twelve...no, thirteen wins in two weeks.” San praises, enveloping you in a hug.

“Could be thirteen by tomorrow~” Hums Iris in a sing-song tone.

A groan leaves your lips, while slumping into an uncomfortable chair. You tune out their excited plans for your makeup and hair tomorrow, San says something about an end of year Award show.

All you want is to go home to your empty dormitory and sleep.

When you finally arrive to the ‘comfort’ of your ‘studio apartment’ (box room), it isn’t long before you strip down to your pyjamas and aggressively rub off the layers of makeup that seem to cling to every pore and fine line of your face. The cold air from the fan soothes the aching of your body from your strict workout routine. You stay awake until 4am, reading comments from netizens and replying to fans on your fancafe, it  was hard not to become obsessed with checking what people thought; whether they loved or loathed you.

[+184 -93] Y/N is talented, but they look devoid of emotion since last week...maybe singing a song so personal isn’t a good idea….what if the person it’s about hears it…..

User FYL**8 was right, it had become draining trying to convey emotions you’d long let go of. Your debut song was fresh and fun, it didn’t garner much attention but at least you hadn’t had to fake emotions and relive your first heartbreak.

Although the memories of the breakup didn’t hurt as much, the happiest ones were the most painful. The feeling of ignorance, thinking he meant forever and believing him completely...it was all so distant yet felt a fingertip away.

That night you slept with a heavy heart, remembering what it felt like when he’d hold you close and right and kiss you on the head to soothe your worries. Why did it have to end? Why like that? You try to drift into a nice sleep after another exhausting day but to no avail, thoughts of him are flooding every thought. Has he heard it? There was no way he hadn’t, he loved to check out every ranking song for inspiration or for another artist to add to his monthly playlist. 

Would he get angry? Sad? Laugh at your pathetic feelings? He was right in the end, when it came down to it you only shared your feelings when it was too late.

Stupid Christopher fucking Bang.

It wasn’t often you’d refer to him as Chan, you had met him when he only saw it as another name for himself that he hardly used. Back when his hair had been fluffed up curls that he couldn’t contain and his light freckles weren’t covered by BB Cream. When he didn’t belong to the world and only loved you.

After months of forcing yourself not to, you hastily search “Stray kids Bang Chan + Y/N”, Then “Stray Kids Y/N” and finally “Skz Y/N”. The results are minimal and far inbetween, mostly tweets from fans wishing for a collab and oddly enough one person making edited photos of you and them, which are so convincing you have to remind yourself you hadn’t met them.

Thoughts drift to his friends, the ones who didn’t know Chris was even seeing someone and had been for over a year. They tried to sugarcoat it, say they forgot, it’s hard to keep track when you’re training and all that. 

The sinking feeling you felt when Minho asked how long you’d been together, guessing a month at most. When you did reply, ears burning with embarrassment he coughed and muttered “Oh.’, That had stung.

Everything had seemed so perfect, until you opened your eyes and saw it for what it was.

You don’t end up sleeping much, two hours at most, Then it’s time to get ready and head to the Broadcast Studio for today’s event. All you know is it’s a show about giving advice, the reviews aren’t great but you aren’t allowed to turn anything down because fame is a double-edged sword that you can barely grasp as is.

Iris and San are already waiting for you when you get there, within minutes makeup is being patted into your skin and your outfit is laid out on the chair next to you.

“Sleep more, Y/N-ah, I had to use a double coverage concealer to hide your dark circles.” Iris said in a fretful tone.

“I try, it’s hard being famous.” You reply jokingly, flipping your hair the best you can. Iris smacks your hand away and frantically finds her hairspray.

Within twenty minutes you’re dressed and not one hair is out of place, San pulls you aside with an uncharacteristically stern face. 

“The company have specific goals for sending you here, they want you to delve into a story of heartbreak to comfort today’s victim, while keeping anonymity and remaining as vague as you can.” 

Of course, even a show about helping others is fictional.

You nod solemnly and prepare to go on air, sitting on a cushion next to a popular comedian who doesn’t bother to even look at you. A well-known Streamer is on your other side and you begin polite small talk, which seems to irritate the host.

“We’re on in 3,2….1!” A sharp click follows the director’s queue and the host bursts right into the introduction.

After you’re introduced it’s easy to tune out, you couldn’t give a shit about that stuck-up comedian and the actress to their right. Instead you think of how the fuck you’re supposed to conjure up an emotional performance with little to no time to prepare.

‘My ex-boyfriend hid me for almost two years’ no, not even worthy of a cheap gossip magazine. ‘I thought my boyfriend loved me, turns out he loved his career more’ Maybe...but you sound too needy. 

“Today’s guest is Lee Chaeun of Suwon! Tell us your story, please.” 

You turn to look at the guest who walks onto the set and sits at the head of the pillow mats. She’s clearly a young girl, her baby face is covered by face-framing layers of shiny black hair and her eyes are already glassy.

“Last year, I began dating my crush after years of admiring him from afar...Everything seemed so perfect until last week….He dumped me by text message saying he needed space and now he’s with someone new..” Chaeun bursts into tears and the host fakes a sympathetic face and passes her a box of tissues.

“Ah, you’re young...you don’t know anything yet. This is a normal phase for teenagers, men realise themselves and break girls down so they become beautiful women. It’s just a case of a little girl not wanting to grow up!” Chimes in the Comedian, who talks about his falsities as if they’re facts.

The audience erupts into laughter and the heartbroken teenager lowers her head in embarrassment. Which only makes you more enraged, Who told that guy he was funny?

“Chaeun has every right to be upset!” You exclaim, cutting through the laugher like a hot knife. “When a relationship ends when everything seems alright for one person, it's cruel. Being blindsided isn’t a joke. It hurts and she deserves closure, and to move on someday to a better person..What happened to her shouldn’t happen to anyone!”  You barely register a gentle hand on top of yours, far too surprised by the fact there are tears dripping down your face. Crying wasn’t an option, so you pull yourself together and apologise to Chaeun and the host you cannot stand.

“Y/N, You seemed personally moved by Chaeun’s story, have you experienced a painful breakup?” The host asks curiously.

“You could say that,” You begin with a wry smile. “I was with someone who lived a double life, they were completely different when they were with other people...Things ended when I was still planning for future dates...it made me realise how fake they were.”

The guests all nod and you squeeze Chaeun’s hand, she smiles at you seeming relieved that she isn’t the only one who has felt this kind of pain. 

Everything goes smoothly after that, other guests chime in and the actress that seemed snobby is openly discussing her ex vomiting all over her Valentinos. You can’t help but wonder if the company really suggested this, or if it was divine intervention (Choi San, your manager). 

You don’t feel so alone anymore, everyone is guaranteed several things, two being love and heartbreak of some kind. 

“Thanks to singer Y/N and actress Sojung, Chaeun was able to feel a little better...Thank you for joining us on ‘Help No Counsellor!’, Join us next week when…’

“Choi San, you sneaky bastard.”

He tries to act surprised but a shit-eating grin soon overtakes his acting, Iris shakes her head and zips her makeup bag closed. It isn’t long until you’re all at The Min’s enjoying red bean bread and warm tea.  “What does inept even mean? I’m assuming it’s a good thing because Wooyoung kissed me after saying it.” San mentions, his lips curving upwards at the fond memory.

“I’d have to agree with Woo, it fits you perfectly.” You reply, circling around his question while Iris tries not to choke on her food.

Fits of laughter die down when you spot a familiar face, Lee Mijoo. 

Her blonde hair flows down her back in loose curls and her soft eyes seem to enchant everyone, admittedly even you for a short time.Behind her is a slightly taller figure dressed in all black and your stomach drops.They don’t seem to notice your presence, so you decide to use this valuable time to hide behind a menu. 

San and Iris try to play along best they can, but it is quite distressing that all of this has happened so suddenly, with no prior warning. But he did bring you here, a lot. So it’s amusing to see his date ideas haven't changed. 

As he’s walking past you he pauses, and you want to shrivel into a hole and die, He’s clearly recognised you but can’t be 100% sure due to The Min’s menu covering your entire face. 

“Y/N?” 

Shit. You cannot hide from this.

Slowly taking the menu away and placing it down on the table you smile at him, maybe a little too forced but it’s the best you can do. His hair is blonde now, his curls are long gone but his smile is as genuine as ever. 

Stupid Christopher Bang and his stupid ‘I-totally-didn’t-break-your-heart’ attitude.

“Chan, nice to see you. Still obsessed with their double shots?” You humoured, he seemed grateful for that.

“Oh, absolutely...and I see you’re still not saving any bean bread for anyone else.” 

You laugh, it’s a bittersweet one at best but nevertheless it’s a laugh.

'Well it’s great to see you again, I’d love to exchange numbers if that’s alright?” 

Without thinking you nod and oblige him, much to your friend’s disappointment which is evident by their glares. Mijoo exchanges smiles with everyone, who could hate her? She was funny, kind hearted and beautiful in every aspect. 

When they finally leave to their outside seats you breathe a sigh of relief and sink into the chair.Iris strokes your hair and San grabs more snacks to go, the walk home isn’t peaceful. It’s awkward and silent, which only makes your head spin more. When you drop off Iris you know a lecture is coming, San hates doing it but you know he tells you what you need to hear, even if it hurts.

“Look, I’m happy you were able to brush off all the hurt today but earlier on you were crying about….this. Don’t give him the power to hurt you twice.”

“You’re right, thanks Sannie.” You reply, taking his arm and smiling at the warmth of his (Wooyoung’s) fuzzy coat. 

Once San leaves and you get inside, it’s a matter of minutes before you hop in the shower and get rid of all the hairspray and mascara that’s been making you itch all day. The warm water soothes away your nerves and the impending frostbite from being outside in the cold for far too long. 

Once you feel clean and somewhat scalded you step out onto warm fluffy towels (cheap warm fluffy towels with holes in them) and get situated for bed.

Just as you exit the bathroom your phone rings and you answer immediately, it’s probably Iris wanting you to play a new Among Us mod with her. 

“Iris?”

“Uh, no, Chris.” 

“Oh.” is your initial reply, why would he call you at midnight?

“Where you asleep? I’m sorry I’ll call back another ti-”

“No!” You interject, much too eagerly. “No...it’s fine. I’m not even in bed yet.”

“Oh” He sounds relieved, much the opposite of you.

“I just wanted to congratulate you...The song, it’s great. What’s it like actually singing one you wrote?”

“Great,” You admit with a smile he can't see, “It feels...genuine. I Couldn't stand the thought of giving the song away.”

“I can see why.” He replies in an unreadable tone.

“Did it make you uncomfortable? Me singing...about-”

“No, why would it?” He cuts in, he sounds slightly agitated.

“Look, Chan, I’m sorry. I should’ve texted you, well I did but you changed your number. But it’s my story too, okay? I needed to heal somehow.”

Minutes pass with no answer, as if he’s trying to think of exactly what to say without getting more irritated or to spare your feelings.

“When did I become Chan?” His voice comes out wavering,and it hurts you.

“That’s what everyone calls you now, you’re not just Chris the trainee anymore.” You reply in a gentle way, trying to ease the building tension.

“But to you, when did I stop being Chris?”

“Probably when you broke my heart,” You deadpan, before adding a ‘kidding’ and bullshit reason.

“You weren’t kidding, but you broke mine too. Don’t make me the bad guy.”

This had taken you aback, you had been in a perfectly happy relationship for almost two years and then he changed his mind, said he wasn’t happy and it wasn’t your fault. When the fuck did you break his heart?

“When exactly did that happen?” You query, “Before or after Mijoo?”

Chan lets out a dry laugh, “Don’t talk about what you don’t understand.”

“Well what does it matter? You never told me shit anyways.” You snapped.

“That’s because you wouldn’t fucking listen. Maybe to you it was all sunshine and roses but I was struggling, I changed and outgrew us. I didn’t want to but you were stuck in dreamland where we’d debut at the same time and live happily ever after. I realised it wasn’t going to happen and set you free so you wouldn’t be embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” You bark,”Fucking embarrassed of what exaclty? I left that shithole you call your company by choice and worked my way up. I’m not embarrassed, but you should be. You’re a fucking sellout Christopher Bang.”

Before he can reply you end the call and throw your phone at the wall, it would’ve broken only for the forty dollar case the store assistant convinced you to buy. You burst into tears just like you had that night when it all came crashing down. He must’ve loved seeing you in pain, because he keeps doing it even now.

That night, you wish for everything to go back to a time before him and the heartbreak that followed.

It’s early on a Friday when you’re called into a board meeting with the CEO, Director and San, who looks like someone stepped on his clay masterpiece. You still haven’t been told anything and as the minutes pass by you wonder if they found out about you getting drunk at Club Suran several weeks back. What if someone saw San there too? What if–

Suddenly the doors open and in walks JYP’s CEO, followed by several others and finally Chris. He looks as confused as you, but you quickly look away before he spots you. Last night was still fresh in your mind and you didn’t need anymore reminders or conversations with him.

“Dispatch has sent us several photos of you two together, spanning several years.” Your CEO announces, an Executive pulling the photos up on the screen behind her. “Including one from yesterday.”

“That was a coincidence, we broke up a long time ago.” You admit, she seems satisfied with your answer and nods, which makes you remember that damned dating ban you have.

“Usually, we’d shoot down these rumours immediately...but this could be quite beneficial to both Stray Kids and Y/N.” JYP’s CEO adds, “Stock prices have shown a rise for both of your albums, and real time searches are at an all time high.” 

“I have a girlfriend.” Chan states, arms folded. “So that’s out of the question if you’re implying we fake a relationship.”

“Look Bang Chan,” Begins one of the Advisors, “It’s all for show, we’ll plan every detail and your girlfriend will keep her mouth shut if she knows what's good for her. Frankly, our sales aren't what they used to be and you need this, if you want complete musical and artistic control.”

Chan takes a while to think, you know this is all he’s wanted. Control over everything he and the boys put out there, with no censorship or edits by anyone else. Your CEO assures you you’ll also benefit from the agreement, including your debt fully cleared and money in your bank account as soon as you sign on the dotted line.

“How long does this last?” You ask, pen in hand.

“Twelve months, then you’re free again.” 

Chan looks to you for conformation and you ignore him, signing it and standing up to leave. You only stop to sign more formalities and then you and San head back to your local coffee shop. 

“Well, you sure have a funny way of moving on.”

[bbytetsu]

SIGNS

pairing: osamu miya x gn! reader

word count: ~3k

author’s note: angst. warnings for slight swearing, very slight suggestiveness. best read to signs by bloc party.

on the winter day marking your first year together, you’re reminded of how deeply you’ve fallen in love.

as you exit the subway station, you’re greeted by the familiar intersection splitting off into narrow streets, each lined by streetlights. the outskirts of osaka are humble, with their greige painted walls and steep, weathered roofs. but the ordinary things here—the 7/11, the spinning barber pole, the cat lingering by the red mailbox—are like landmarks to you, noticed and loved by your crescent eyes. scanning your surroundings, you turn left towards his apartment and continue straight.

5 minutes away from his place.  

you amble past the 7/11 store. traces of nikuman waft in the cold air, inviting you in. you catch yourself smiling as you see the regular obasan, red-rimmed glasses perched on her leathery skin, bantering with the store owner—they’re definitely flirting, you think. through the wide windows, you watch the local high school boys’ volleyball team scatter throughout the rainbow aisles. some squat just below your field of vision, others pore through magazines by the register.

3 minutes away from his place.

you take a left. on your right, you pass the family-owned barber shop he visits. its endlessly spinning barber pole is a welcome dash of color amidst the neutral hues of the neighborhood. across from the shop stands the house with the red mailbox. the family’s calico cat idles dangerously close to the road and licks it paws before wandering off.

1 minute away from his place.

you pass the empty bike rack, and the gated residence comes into sight at the end of the street.

it’s all the same, but suddenly it’s not.

small fluffs of white begin to obscure your vision. you glance up at the sky, and your eyes widen—it’s snowing. juxtaposed against the osaka skyline, it’s almost as if the city lights are disintegrating, their embers falling around you in the form of bright snowflakes. you watch the snow in a trance, and before you know it, winter has draped a sheer white veil over the street, dusted over naked trees with its snowy kiss.

on the winter day marking your first year together, you feel as if your love for him has overflowed and trickled out from your chest. and now it surrounds you in the form of snow. falling so softly, so wonderfully dizzyingly.

----------

“i’m here, ‘samu,” you call out in a singsong voice as you twist your spare key in the lock. pushing open the door, you’re stunned to find his place completely dark. you step into the apartment and wrangle your boots off of your feet.

“’samu? you here?” with your eyes trained on the floor for any potential tripping hazards, you tread through the dim foyer.

“yeah, i’m here.” his familiar voice rings out, partially relieving your confusion. you look up to search for his figure.

“why’s it so- oh my god, what’s all this?” you nearly trip into the kitchen. you gasp at the sight of candles casting golden highlights across the dinner table. slivers of mahogany peek in between plates of nigiri, bowls of miso, and other tableware. in the center of the table, a glass vase holds two crimson roses, petals coated with glassy dewdrops.

you try to collect your thoughts. “i thought we were just meeting here,” you pause to think. “wait, did our dinner reservation get canceled? did you call me earlier? i might’ve missed it...” you fumble for your phone in your coat pocket.

he grins a slightly lopsided grin. “ya still haven’t caught on? i didn’t actually make a reservation, i was just tryna surprise ya… seeing as ya like surprises and all that. plus,” he clears his throat. “why would we go out to dinner when i can make it myself? i hear their wasabi isn’t even freshly made.”

you’re silent as tears well up in your eyes.

“hey, you’re not about to cry, are ya?” he’s unsure whether to poke fun of you or embrace you in a warm hug.

“i just can’t believe you did this all yourself,” you whisper, still fixated on the feast in front of you. even to your untrained eyes, you can tell that each each piece was handled with precision, delicacy, but above all, love. the air between you feels thick and honeyed, suffused with all the feelings brimming in your chest.

“i mean, i do this for a living.” you glance up at him. he shrugs, but you notice the tender twinkle in his eye.

“i know, but it’s still amazing. i don’t even know what to say,” you confess.

“ya don’t have to say anythin’,” he murmurs. “just let me enjoy the quiet for once.”

“huh?” your eyebrows furrow, but your lips curl into a faint smile. “okay, i take it back. you better be prepared to listen to me all night.”

he cocks his eyebrow. “why? is there something ya wanna do all night?”

“‘SAMU! don’t twist my words,” you lunge towards him. he recoils.  

“oi, relax!!”

just as you’re about land a solid smack on his ass, he maneuvers behind you and folds his strong arms around you in a back hug. laughing, you squirm in his embrace, but he doesn’t budge.

“gotcha,” he huffs into your ear. he loosens his grip around you, allowing you to wriggle your arms above and over his. you intertwine your fingers with his, and the two of you sway from side to side like in a slow dance. he pulls your body closer to his chest.

“happy anniversary,” he whispers, as if he’s afraid that speaking any louder will disrupt the romantic atmosphere he’s so diligently crafted.

of course, you know that nothing could ruin this moment.

“mhm. happy anniversary to us.”

with his eyes closed, he breathes in your scent. the two of you are quiet—there is no need for words. the way your limbs melt into each other, no beginning or end to either of you, is enough for the both of you.

he loves you. you love him.

he’s thankful that sushi doesn’t need to be served hot. he’d hold you here for an eternity if he could.

----------

it’s funny how things change throughout the years.

you sit motionless, with both of your elbows pressed against the cold mahogany of the table. when you first sat down, the sun had just begun to creep below the skyline, wispy streaks of reds and yellows blazing in its wake. now, the sun was long gone, and your only companion was the moon, whom you know all too well these days. round and low in the dark sky, it casts shadows across the empty dinner table.

the apartment is silent besides the quiet ticking of the kitchen clock.

tick, tock. as if it’s a bomb waiting to explode. as if it’s mocking you for waiting so long. as if it’s counting down the time you have left with him.

you lean your forehead against your hands, clasped in a silent prayer. with your eyes closed, you allow any and all emotions to wash over you.

how could you forget our anniversary? does our relationship even matter to you? do i even matter to you? why am i always your second choice?  how did things end up this way?

the muffled jangle of keys outside the door interrupts your thoughts, and the lock clicks as it turns open. hours ago, you would have perked up at the sound, but now it’s been much too late. you remain motionless. after shaking his shoes off, he walks into the dim kitchen to find you sitting at the dinner table, your forehead still pressed against your clasped hands.

“you forgot,” you whisper, refusing to look at him.

���i know, y/n. i’m so-”

you cut him off. “you could’ve called. or texted.”

“i’m so sor-”

“save it. i’ve been sitting here for the last… i don’t even know how many hours. and i’ve just been thinking about what to say.”

he’s quiet. how many more mistakes will it take for you to realize he no longer loves you like he used to? you shudder at the thought, but are unable to ignore it any longer. you’ve opened pandora’s box, unleashing thick smoke that swallows you whole. it clouds your every thought and contaminates your memories with him; it stings your eyes and steals the breath from your lungs.

you begin to shake, and he watches as your breaths shorten into small, erratic gasps. his chest tightens at the sight. kneeling down onto the ground to level himself with with your seated figure, he stretches his arms towards you. but to his shock, you flinch at his touch.

“don’t!” you gasp. “don’t come near me. i don’t want that-” you’re unable to finish your sentence, sudden gasps curbing whatever words were to come next.

“y/n, i’m sorry.” his voice is low, his mouth sours with dread.

“i know. but it’s not the first time that you’ve done something like this. remember my birthday?” you choke out, burying your face in your palms.

he grimaces at the mention. “i do. but ya said ya wouldn’t bring that up again. i thought we agreed to move past that.”

“well, yeah we did. but the thing is, it’s become a pattern.”

he stands up and hovers by your seated figure. “me forgetting? it’s happened two or three times. i wouldn’t say that’s a pattern. but listen, i know i was in the wrong and and that’s why i wanna say i’m sorry. i really am.”

you look up at him with puffy, bleary eyes. red tinges your waterline. “you just don’t get it, do you?”

“whaddya mean?” his mind scrambles. get what? he replays your interactions in a frantic attempt to uncover whatever deeper meaning he was missing.

“it’s not just you missing our anniversary, or you missing my birthday. it’s so much bigger than that. all of this,” you wave your hand. “is just a symptom of the bigger problem.”

he raises an eyebrow. “i wasn’t aware we had a bigger problem.”  

his lack of awareness shocks you. how can you be so unobservant, so oblivious? all the sorrow and rage that you’ve repressed begins to bubble and overflow, like a pot of boiling water with its lid on for too long. you ball your fists as hot, stinging tears run down your cheeks. “you wanna know what it is, ‘samu?” you straighten your back and turn towards him. “it’s the fact that you no longer have room in your life for me! admit it, onigiri miya is more important to you than i am!”

“what’s onigiri miya gotta do with all this?” he retorts. his voice is grating. “i know i’ve been busy with work, but ya couldn’t possibly think that. you’ve always supported me and my dream of running my own damn restaurant, but now it’s the problem with us? the fact that i have a dream?”

“no, the fact that your dream doesn’t include me,” your voice quivers. “there’s no space for me in your future, ‘samu.”

“oh come on, ya know that’s not true. i’ve just been busy keeping up with it, especially with how business is growing.”

anger flares within you. how dare he dismiss your concerns as if they’re not legitimate? as if you’re nothing more than a small child whining for candy?

“but think about it!” you shoot up from your chair and look him in the eye. “when you envision yourself in 5 years, what do you think about? you think about onigiri miya, you think about how business is booming, critics are raving about your cooking. you’re raking in so much cash you’ve opened a new restaurant and you’re standing there in front of the new place, and maybe you’re cutting the ribbon for the grand opening. but am i there? am i standing next to you anywhere in your dream? do you think about us, where we’re going to be in five years? no, no you don’t. i’m not anywhere in the picture and you know it.”  

even in the dark, you can see his jaw clench. the rest of his features grow rigid with frustration.

he, too, has reached his boiling point.

“how can ya possibly say that?” he seethes, his tone unforgiving like steel slicing through palpable air. “i told ya already, y/n. i’m sorry. i fucked up. i missed our anniversary. i even missed your birthday. but that is not the reason we won’t work out, i won’t let that be the reason. ya know i love ya. i do. but ya wanna pit yourself against my job... don’t ya think that’s a little unfair? for fuck’s sake, not even my job, but my dream? ya know how it’s been a dream of mine since forever to open my own shop. ya know how hard it’s been, how i shed blood, sweat, and tears to open it, much less to keep it going. of all people, ya know how hard it was for me to find something i wanted alone, something that was different than ‘tsumu’s. something that would let me be my own person. and now i’ve finally found it ya wanna take it away? all because ya need attention?”

his words leave a metallic aftertaste, and he watches your features twist in pain as you confirm your growing suspicions.

he’s outgrown me.

“i- i’m sorry. i know that you’re not trying to take anything away from me,” he confesses. he wants so desperately to take back his mangled words, but it’s too late. he’s dropped a lit match onto your bed of oil, setting flame to what he once knew.  

you stand up shakily and face him: the man who taught you what it meant to love. the man who taught you what it meant to hurt.

“you’re right, i’m not. but you know what?” your voice cracks before growing raspier. “thanks for telling me that. because when i imagined my future, i always imagined a future in which you were by my side. i thought we’d move in together someday, maybe even get a dog, maybe even get married, maybe even have—oh, i don’t know—kids, and move into a house! help them with their math homework! take them to the aquarium, go on family picnics! make onigiri on sundays! but, i guess i’ve been a fucking fool, haven’t i?”  

he looks at you with wide, dinner plate eyes.

you choke back sobs, not even bothering to wipe away the wet tears trailing down your cheeks. your heart weighs heavier than lead, and you turn on your heels.

“i- y/n, wait, where are ya going?” he reaches for you, the tips of his fingers brushing against your arm as you shoulder past him.  

“outside. to think.”

as he realizes you have every intention of leaving the apartment, he trips into the hallway after you.

“wait, it’s fuckin’ freezing outside-”

“ii’ll be fine.” you forcefully grab the woolen coat off the coat rack and swing it over your shoulders.

“y/n. please, we can work this out.” you’ve never heard him like this—quiet, but painfully desperate.

too late.

“i need to think.”

you step through the doorway, not daring to look back.

----------

you trudge through the half melted snow that coats the street. as your eyes burn with tears, the faraway osaka city lights blur in your vision like a kaleidoscope. shivering, you dig your bare hands further into your pockets and clench onto the fabric—an attempt to preserve whatever heat there is, but more so as an expression of your anger.

your legs seem to move by themselves, and you grit your teeth to keep yourself from crying. how did things end up like this?

1 minute away from his place.

you hurry past the empty bike rack and the brick walls guarding the houses. the greige walls have never looked grayer.

3 minutes away from his place.

you pass by the house with the red mailbox, its obnoxious color like a warning that’s much too late. the calico cat has abandoned you and is nowhere to be seen. the spinning barber pole taunts you with its endless dance.

5 minutes away from his place.

you pass by the 7/11. there’s no one in the store except for the regular obasan, whose wrinkles are drawn taut in a frown. you watch as she fires words at the shopowner, her one hand pointing at him animatedly and the other resting on her hip. they’re definitely arguing, you think.

you finally reach the open intersection in front of the subway station. leaning against a streetlight, you survey the neighborhood defeatedly, trying to find beauty in the surroundings you once regarded with so much affection. trying to find a sign. water seeps off of branches and falls onto the pavement like teardrops. the steep-roofed houses huddle together in the cold, their walls practically rubbing against each other.

it’s all the same, but it’s somehow different.

you look down at your feet, slush coating the edges of your shoes. it pains you to see that the the snow is no longer bright or pure, but translucent. tinted an ugly brown. with footprints littered across its surface.

on the winter day marking your fourth year together, the snow you loved so much has melted into slush, revealing nothing but barren soil beneath.

it’s over between us.

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Long Nights - part 4

Neil x Reader

Chapter 4: World gone mad

(see chapter 3, 2, 1)

summary: inverted heist calls for inverted training

warnings: 18+, explicit language, gun mention, crackheadery, and possible whiplash

author’s note: Hi, yes, I know, took me ages, but hey, I hope it's worth the wait! 5.2k words, how even--

Anyway.

The song for this part is Bastille - World Gone Mad

Enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

——————

Tag list: @cxnnienikas @neutron-stars-collision ​ @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway @mellifluous-cosmos @wonderwoman292 @buckysgoldenheart @townmoondaltwistle @theriverbeneaththeriver (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

-----

The fact that you knew how to handle guns wasn’t equal to you being very good at it. Or enjoying it, for that matter. Sure, you could more or less hit the target, especially with some useful tips you got from Neil regarding a trigger finger discipline, but still - you’d rather avoid reaching for a pistol altogether.

You put back the weapon you’d been training with and Neil handed you another one. You couldn’t really tell the difference, at least until you checked the magazine. The lack of ammo meant you finally got to the fun bit that Neil teased in The Protagonist’s office and you smiled, looking back at your companion. He grinned at you, the gaze sparkling behind yellow-tinted safety glasses as he pointed at the wall next to the targets you used for practice.

“Just aim and pull the trigger. ” Seeing your nod, he added, “Okay now, be careful, it might feel--”

The bullet whizzed back into the chamber of your pistol and your eyes widened.

“Oh fuck me sideways,” you hissed under your breath.

“-- a bit weird, yeah.” Neil chuckled at the shock painted on your face. “All right?”

“Yeah, just processing.” Trying to blink the consternation away, you asked, “How do you make these? You put it into that...turnstile and voilà?”

Neil shook his head. “No, it’s not that simple. We receive a stash every now and then, we don’t know how to manufacture those,” - he smirked - “at least not yet. I do have a few theories I’m working on in my spare time, but...” hesitating for a moment, he raked a hand through his hair and sent you a nervous smile. “Wouldn’t want to bore you to death, though.”

“Dude, come on, with that smooth and soothing voice of yours? You could read the yellow pages to me and I’d still listen like that--” you mocked a dreamy heart-eyes expression, watching with satisfaction as that remark pushed Neil further into a flustered state.

Apparently, when explicit teasing got a little-to-no reaction now, you could still make him blush with a more wholesome compliment. As you started laughing, he rolled his eyes and scrunched the nose slightly, joining you with a stifled giggle. Grinning, you continued a little softer, “I’m not gonna lie - I probably wouldn’t understand a majority of the physics jargon, but I’d still want to hear all about that.”

A thankful look you got in return made your chest clench painfully, and your mind wandered off to those breaks near the river, and Neil’s animated rants. You knew one thing. Anyone who had ever ridiculed him for his passion for even the nerdiest things could rot in hell, and you’d gladly see to it personally.

A disgruntled huff coming from behind made you both snap out of the moment.

“Oi, lovebirds, I’d appreciate it if you could leave all that to after I prep you for the mission.”

Bottling down your annoyance, you batted your lashes at the commander, who’d just come back with keys to one of the conference rooms near the range.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, you have my full attention now.”

Ives nodded, waving at you to follow him. Meanwhile, Neil’s small smirk let you know that he noticed that faint undertone in your voice, but he said nothing, patiently waiting for the events to unfold.

Another person was waiting for you at the door. You recognized the woman who’d driven you to that abandoned factory on your very first day - you’d never gotten properly introduced, but you remember asking Neil about her once and he called her Wheeler. To be honest, with these guys you never knew if they used their real names, nicknames, codenames, or whatever. Not that you cared, quite used to it in your own line of business. You exchanged a court nod with her and went into the room.

As you sat down at the big table and Ives booted a projector, your eyes bore into the man. Definitely one of those types who enjoyed his beret and the paramilitary structure of the field branch of the organization. Probably a bit too much. You bit back a smug grin.

Those were particularly fun to mess with.

Ives caught your piercing stare and stopped the brief of the location.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said, propping the chin on your palm, a polite smile on your lips. “It’s fascinating.”

He furrowed his brows, perplexed.

“What is?”

“How your commanding presence literally adds you inches,” you said, using all your willpower to keep a serious face. “I wonder if it works only for your height or--”

Neil’d futile attempts at masking an amused snort with a cough didn’t go unnoticed. Ives shot him daggers and then glared at you. “For fuck’s sake, would you focus?”

Your eyes flared up at the threat in his voice and you pouted, taunting him further.

“Or what, you’re gonna spank me?”

“No, I’m gonna shoot you,” he deadpanned.

You raised a brow.

“Kinky.”

Ives groaned, turning to Neil.

“How you survived this long without choking her is beyond me.”

Neil puffed his cheeks and gestured vaguely, but as he opened the mouth to answer, you chimed in, with a shit-eating grin plastered on your face.

“Oh, he very much did so, all right.”

The awkward silence that followed was pretty satisfying.

“Can we keep her?” asked Wheeler casually, leaned back in her chair, fiddling with a bullpen.

Ives gaped at you all, then slumped his shoulders in defeat, sliding a hand through his features. He was so done you could almost hear The Sound of Silence playing in the distance, but apparently, his sense of duty was stronger than the urge to leave you without finishing the briefing, so he just drew a deep breath and continued.

“...anyway…”

You caught Neil’s glance and you couldn’t help but poke the tip of your tongue out at him. The mischievous sparks in his eyes reflected your own as he shook his head, tugging the bottom lip between the teeth. Wheeler’s curious gaze flitted between you two, and as you didn’t feel like drawing too much unnecessary attention to yourself anymore, you focused on the plan that Ives was persistently going through.

Time frames. Blueprints. Entry points. Exit routes (you spotted at least one additional way he left out, but you weren’t sure if you could drag Neil through there, judging by that alley performance, so you didn’t bother to mention it out loud). Everything seemed clear enough. You still had no idea how being inverted would affect the lockpicking, but when you voiced that, Ives promised you some time to figure it out before the mission.

The mission. Huh. It wasn’t that much different from your usual assignments - at least if you forgot about that tiny insignificant detail like moving backwards in time - but something in this paramilitary and/or espionage vibe made your heart beat faster with excitement.

It had been quite a long time since you had company at the job. Working alone had its perks, but you wouldn’t mind a trusted partner in crime having your six for a change.

Another thing that you certainly wouldn’t mind - seeing Neil in tactical gear. Not that either of you would need one, but the image got planted in your head and suddenly you wished you’d had a bottle of water.

You realized that everyone was looking at you expectantly. Shit, was there a question or…?

“I’m good,” you said, shooting in the dark, hoping that would be enough to cover your distracted ass.

Ives squinted, but fortunately, that was an acceptable answer.

“Well, as you two can proceed straight from here - Wheeler, they’re all yours.’

“Okay,” - she smiled and stood up - “we don’t have any turnstiles on-site, but there’s one in the base outside the city, I’ll talk you through the basics on the way.”

So that little daydream cost you a chance to come back home to prepare? Grand. The problem was - you needed your heavy-duty tools, but you’d rather eat rocks than back away in front of Ives. Luckily, he called on Neil to wait for a moment, so that was your chance.

“Umm, Wheeler?” you asked quietly, following her outside.

She glanced at you curiously.

“What’s up?”

“I know I said I’m good, but could we stop by my apartment for a second, please?” An awkward grimace ran through your face. “I gotta pick up my tools. You know, just in case.”

She wasn’t surprised by your request. Moreover, she sent you a knowing smile.

“Sure thing,” she said and winked, and then it was your turn to present a slightly flushed face. “I’ve got you.”

----

You didn’t know what to expect from the whole inversion process.

The first time your brain stuttered was when Wheeler pointed at something she called the proving window, just in time for you to see the three of you coming out on the other side. You caught inverted-you glancing back at your present self; the schooled expression, but with the gaze shining with anticipation.

The second time was when it was you on the other side, looking at your wide-eyed past self. Feeling the incoming headache, you took a deep breath and followed Wheeler and Neil to the stand with oxygen masks.

“How are you feeling?” asked Neil, handing you the equipment.

“Weirdly normal.” You shrugged. “Or maybe not more backwards than usual, if that makes any sense.”

He smiled lightly.

“It’s the airlock. When you see the outside, you’ll get a whole new perspective.”

Wheeler nodded. “What he said. And to recap: you’re inverted, the world is not - all forces will be pushing back on you. Besides gravity.” She double-checked the oxygen bottle secured to your belt. “Just mind things that might be rising instead of falling.”

You furrowed the brows.

“Wait, didn’t Ives mention the rain?”

Neil smirked from behind the mask.

“Afraid of getting wet?”

“Never.” You grinned, meeting the sparkling blue eyes. “Should know that by now.”

Wheeler snorted and shook her head, walking to the panel near the exit.

“You’ll have plenty of time to finish the job before you move far enough to catch up on that. Although, if you ever find yourself in the inverted rain, here’s a tip: pop your collar.”

“Why would you--” Oh. The sole thought of the water going up from the ground to the sky made you nauseous. You swallowed with effort, leveling your breath in the mask. “...right.”

Wheeler opened the door and you almost gasped at the view. The golden rays of sunset (...or was it technically a sunrise now?) flickered on the training grounds’ equipment as the sky painted the scarce pools of muddy water with greyish violets and reddening oranges. Leaves shuffled in the wind, their dance almost satirical with that inverted spin.

Wheeler’s voice stopped your mind from wandering further into the landscape.

“Okay, ready? Ives asked me to remind you not to try any cowboy shit, you need to be in one piece at the end of the training.”

“Yes ma’am,” you mocked a salute and stepped outside, stretching your limbs, readjusting to the reality being slightly off. Neil stood right beside you watching you warming up, ready to take you to the obstacles section.

But as soon as the airlock’s doors closed behind you, you spun around, tapping his shoulder - “Tag, you’re it!” - and without waiting for his reaction, you leaped towards the assault course.

Surely that turned out overly optimistic. You counted on the element of surprise and a head start, but Neil had an experience with running while being inverted, while you… well. You tried.

“B+ for effort,” laughed Neil, catching up on you even before you reached the first obstacle and tapping you back. “But you can do better than that.”

“Just you wait!” you retorted and vaulted over a low hurdle, the mild confusion caused by the dumbfounded senses slowly eased up as you tuned out the brain and let the muscle memory guide your movements. Because hey, in the end? Yes, the natural forces were acting up against you. Yes, Neil had years of inverted training behind him. But you’d been challenging different obstacles your whole life, and courses like this one were your favourite playgrounds.

You caught on him by the next wall, playing dirty and tugging at his leg, pulling him down before he could jump to the other side. The exasperated huff he gave you in protest got lost in the squelch of mud under your feet, the sound more like a suction instead of the much-expected splash. Shuddering with disgust at such abomination, you rushed to the set of monkey bars, hearing Neil following up closely. You gritted your teeth, swinging your body to help yourself get through the part, and that’s when you felt a light tap on your foot.

You glared to your left, where Neil was gaining an advantage over you.

“Damn you and your infinite legs, man! It doesn’t count!”

“Losing looks good on you,” he said, landing and then instantly ducking under your reached out hand.

“Too bad it’s not gonna stick,” you scoffed as you ran after him to jump on one of the parallel logs. Balancing was easy enough, even with inversion; it gave you the perfect opportunity to plan ahead, while Neil had to maintain full focus. “Must say - all that sass definitely makes you like... ten percent hotter.”

But you’d taught him well, apparently, and instead of losing his pace, he only shot you a quick glance accompanied by an arched brow.

“Only ten?”

“Dunno, come over here and let me take a closer look,” you teased, getting a short chuckle in response. “No?” - you sighed - “Alrighty then.” And you leaped to the side straight into Neil, pushing him off the log. He yelped and grabbed you by the shirt, the momentum sending you both straight into the mud. You landed on top of Neil, collapsing into his arms for a moment to catch a breath and to stop laughing.

You leaned back to look him in the eyes.

“Okay, maaaybe fifteen,” you panted, booping his mask as you would do to his nose.

Neil snickered and nodded.

“I’ll take it.”

When your gazes met, his features softened, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear gently. You smiled behind the mask and sat up, straddling his waist. Neil was studying you closely, his hands grazed your sides and rested on your hips. Nibbling at your bottom lip, you leaned over him again and slowly reached out, and--

“Simba…” you choked out with reverence, brushing a muddy thumb across his forehead.

Tears from the held-back laughter threatened to spill any second as you observed Neil blanking out in utter confusion. The five stages of grief ran through his expression and then he closed his eyes and sighed theatrically.

“The fate of the world is in the hands of a complete madwoman.”

...the what now?

You tilted your head, grinning.

“Aren’t you a little dramatic?”

Then, without a warning, Neil shifted under you, rolling you off him and pinning you down.

“Birds of a feather and all that,” he said, clearly enjoying the way you squealed and squirmed as the mud got under your shirt. “You think you got a hang of the inverted movement already?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. Neil realized your intentions a second too late. A handful of mud splashed on his face and you chuckled with satisfaction. “Yeah, now I think I’m ready to go.”

You turned up at the airlock soon after, looking like something that cat dragged in, but beaming widely. Dreaming of a hot shower and a clean set of clothes, you put down the mask and the oxygen container and headed to the turnstile.

Wheeler was waiting for you near the machine, and seeing the state you were in, she just gaped at you both, trying to come up with an adequate question.

As you noticed her quizzical look, you gave her a thumbs up and smiled.

“If you ain't dirty, you ain't here to party! Wooo!” you whooped, throwing your hands up and trotting past her straight into the turnstile.

Right before reverting yourself back to your original state, you heard Wheeler’s hushed question.

“You two all right?”

And then Neil’s answer.

“Don’t worry, we’re good.”

--------

The truck’s engine hummed steadily, which could only mean you were on some sort of highway. At least the container stopped wobbling, so you could practice in peace.

No wobbles meant no excuses, though. You sighed, readjusting your grip on the tools.

Neil had fallen asleep some time ago, after making sure you figured out the locks and hearing your solemn promise that you would follow him soon.

One day after that eventful night, then inverting and going straight back without proper sleep. You knew he was right and you needed at least a nap. But you couldn’t. Not before you were absolutely sure you got it. The usual locks weren’t that bad. The inverted ones were a whole other story.

It’d taken you long enough to crack them in the safety of your own apartment, without the weird physics, ever-present even within the air-locked container. Without the pressure.

The fate of the world.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

You didn’t even know what was that thing you were supposed to retrieve soon. It was okay, you didn’t need to. It was a quite common situation in your work history. That kind of knowledge could be dangerous, after all.

The pin clicked and you sighed again, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the burning sensation even for a moment.

Besides, you were doing it for Neil. The memory of that panicked look on his face when he’d seen the documents was enough to keep you going.

But did he have to say that?

You had to do it. Not only because you felt responsible for him, in a way. What you’d told the boss was true and you weren’t the only one at fault for Neil not being fully ready for that assignment. He was your friend, wasn’t he? And there was no way you’d leave a friend in need.

You pressed your lips together, forcing yourself to breathe.

Probably a stupid joke, nothing more.

But what if he was being serious? What if that thing out there was really that important? And you were about to fuck everything up because you couldn’t get your shit together fast enough to figure out the bloody inverted mechanism again. And with every minute wasted and not spent on resting there was a higher chance of messing up at the actual location.

Hell of a locksmith you were, huh?

The feedback from the tools came with a final warning like a sobering slap. If you were to continue, they would snap any second now.

You let out a shaky breath and retraced from the lock, hiding your face in the palms.

A gentle touch on your shoulder almost made you flinch. Of course, he had to wake up in the middle of your breakdown.

“Go back to sleep, we still have a few hours left,” you muttered into your hands, trying to collect yourself.

“Not before you talk to me,” said Neil as his fingers slid down your arm. He was crouching right beside you, the blue eyes boring into you with concern. “What is it?”

You sighed and shifted in your seat to face him.

“Wanna make sure I got it, that’s all.”

Neil’s brows knitted together.

“But I saw you open that lock once, why--”

“Once! And that’s exactly the problem!” you fumed and glared at the table. “I can’t crack it again, I--” your voice wavered and you gritted the teeth in frustration. “What if it was a stroke of dumb luck? Should I start praying for another one to happen there?”

Another delicate touch, this time on your knees, was enough to make you look back at Neil. A shade of smile tainted his lips as he searched your gaze.

“Someone used to tell me all the time that if you did it once, you can do it again.”

You hung your head and huffed, “Maybe that someone was full of shit.’

“I know for a fact that she wasn’t,” he chuckled, taking the tools out of your clenched fists and putting them back at the table. “She was utterly brilliant,” he continued, reaching for your cramping, trembling hands and taking them in his, ”and always reminded me to take a break instead of agonizing over a stubborn lock.”

That you did, all right. Your laugh sounded awfully close to a sob. God, if you weren’t exhausted.

Mustering enough strength to look him in the eyes, you squeezed his hands, trying to convey all the gratitude in the gesture. And hide that bit of embarrassment, too.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said and his thumbs brushed over your knuckles. “Scoot over.”

You moved back on the provisional bench, making enough space for him to sit next to you. And so he did, not letting go of your hands even for a second. He started rubbing small circles into them and you grunted softly. Neil gave you a knowing smile and soon enough, his fingers glided between your forearms and fingertips, applying pressure to the tensest places, careful strokes and precise moves bringing a much-needed release. You couldn’t help small groans escaping your mouth, every one of them adding to the self-satisfied grin hiding in the corner of Neil’s mouth. But then, instead of teasing you, his features softened and you caught his glance, warm and sheepish.

“I don’t think I properly thanked you for offering to help me with this mission.”

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” you laughed and winced as Neil’s thumbs worked on your wrists. “Don’t thank me yet, we still need to pull it off first.”

“Well, maybe we already have, from the typical point of view,” - he pondered, lighting up - “seeing that we are moving back--”

“Neil, please, I’m all for discussing it later, but right now it’s about to give me a pounding headache.”

When you met his eyes, you noted with relief that he didn’t mind you cutting him off like that. He knew that you were tired, nothing more.

“Right, sorry.” Then he looked at you with determination, suddenly serious. “Whatever happens… thank you. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” you said quietly as your heart ached with unexpected fondness.

Neil smiled, shaking off the sentimental moment. His hands cupped yours and gave them a light squeeze.

“Now would you please get some rest?”

“Will you tuck me in?” you grinned and batted your lashes at him, earning an amused snort in return.

“I can even sing you a lullaby if that means you’ll fall asleep faster,” he said, standing up and tugging at your hand.

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m gonna crash too fast to properly appreciate it,” you giggled as he kited you all the way to the resting area at the front of the container. “But I’m definitely taking a rain check on that.”

“Sure.” One final brush of his thumb over your fingers and he let go of your hand, smirking. “Now sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

-------

Neil proved to be an excellent companion.

You disabled the alarms simultaneously, paying attention to all the possible silent traps. Forcing the main locks went smoothly, almost surprisingly so. For having something of such importance hidden there, the owners of the place seemed strangely old-fashioned; it shone through the antique decor of the lofty apartment as well as the security choices. Too easy. Tuning out an intrusive thought rattling in the back of your head, you scouted the dark rooms, careful not to leave any traces of your presence.

There.

The office you saw in the photos.

...but they’d redecorated.

“That’s one fancy safe they got there,” you said nonchalantly, eyeing the ornament piece of metal lit by your flashlight, “Too bad it somehow got left out at the briefing.”

Neil’s face dropped when he followed you inside the room.

“Christ, and what now?”

Good question. You’d worked with safes before, hell, you’d cracked a fair share of them using simply manipulation. But never going bloody backwards in time. How would that even work? Was it normal or inverted?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

“I’ve got this.” And that’s how you felt, despite the initial panic. There was a method to it, and you had most of the things you needed with you. Perks of overpreparing. The only issue was-- ... “It might take a while, though.”

Neil nodded.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Keep an eye on the time for me, I gotta focus,” you said, reaching into your backpack and accidentally pulling on the thin tube. Right. “...and maybe on the oxygen levels as well?”

“Will do.”

Your brain switched into the challenge mode, and your fingers tingled to give it a try. Armed with a sound amplifier and a little notepad, you sat down next to the safe and got to work.

Figuring out your way in was meant to be a hit and miss, doubly so with the goddamn inversion. But minute after minute, click by click, you determined the first contact points, and the years of experience took you from there. You scribbled numbers and variations in the notepad, fully focused on the task. Almost there.

Another combination. Inhale. Exhale. Pull.

Gotcha.

“Neil?” you called out in the hushed voice as the beam from the flashlight landed on a small metal box of a peculiar shape.

He was next to you in no time.

“That’s it,” he said, kneeling down. He reached inside and took out the box, then carefully placed it inside his backpack. The blue eyes glimmered in the dim light. “Good job!”

“Thanks,” you smiled and closed the safe. “Now let’s get out of here.”

You gathered and packed all your stuff, double-checking for any leftover signs of your entry.

Then you heard it. A faint, slightly off patter against the huge windows. You froze in place as your mind tried to grasp the view of trickles of rain coming up the glass.

Neil glanced outside, not mindful of the absolutely bonkers scene that wiped any coherent thought from your head. Although judging from how quickly his face lost all the colours, the view he got was even more disturbing.

“Christ…” he uttered, shooting you a panicked look. “We’ve got company.”

You dashed to the window to see for yourself. A group of people was crossing the empty street, moving pretty much normally, and that only meant...

Fuck.

“The owners?”

Neil shook his head. “Impossible. The third party, probably.” With his hand already on the holster, he hesitated, considering the options.

But there were only two: fight or flight. The problem was - the numbers didn’t look good for you to try pushing through the crew downstairs. And as for the second one, your initial exit routes seemed to be cut off already.

Although, there was still one path left. You almost smiled to yourself. He was not going to like it.

“Let’s go through the roofs.”

Neil’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?” he asked, scanning your face for any sign of doubt.

There was none.

“Yes, but we have to leave right now.”

He swallowed with effort and nodded.

As soon as you bolted out of the apartment and rushed up the stairs, the footsteps coming from the lower levels quickened. Time was running out.

You were about to barge outside when Neil grabbed your hand as if he sensed what was going to happen next. The doors opened and you lost the momentum, startled by the view. Heavy showers replaced the drizzle you saw through the window, intensifying the nauseating effect.

The last strands of sanity threatened to leave you, but Neil’s touch was like an anchor, grounding you and keeping you from spiraling further.

“Which way?” he shouted through the hammering, almost deafening rain.

You blinked rapidly and looked around to match the data from the brief to the actual location.

“Over there!”

Wishing you’d had a goddamn collar to pop, you leaped to the side, guiding Neil through your only escape route. You let go of his hand to vault over the vents, and just as your feet touched the surface again, you heard distant yells behind you. Shit.

The high density of the area was working in your favor, but only for so long. There was meant to be a gap between the buildings sooner or later, and one of them was coming right up. The jump was doable, even for Neil - all you needed was speed and a decent launch.

But when your companion noticed the edge of the roof, he slowed down and stopped by a low parapet wall, cursing.

“No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way, Neil, come on! We don’t have time!” you urged him as the voices behind you grew louder.

He swallowed with effort, too transfixed on the gap. You bit back an impatient groan and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look at you.

“Neil, listen to me. You can do this. All you need is a run-up.”

He didn’t seem convinced. You gritted your teeth, trying to keep your own rising panic in check.

“Do you trust me? Yes or no?”

He met your eyes and his features hardened. There.

“I do.”

And when you opened the mouth again, the first bullet whizzed past you. You flinched, but maintained the eye contact, afraid to lose Neil’s newfound confidence. “Then go first, I’m right behind you.”

Neil nodded and backed away quickly. Watching him jump, your heart skipped a beat, but he landed on the other side without too much trouble. Good. Your turn.

You dashed towards the rim and another bullet missed your legs by a hair’s breadth, hitting the parapet wall right ahead of you. A little close to the top, as you noted, jumping on it to leap across the gap.

But the realization came a moment too late. The wall crumbled under your feet.

Enough for you to not make it to the other side.

Someone screamed.

Was it you?

It didn’t matter.

The world dissolved in a flash of agonizing pain.

And darkness.

----

Static beeping. The smell of disinfectants. And your every particle throbbing in dull pain.

Somebody was having a quiet conversation nearby. The Protagonist… and Neil?

A wave of relief flooded over you. He’d made it.

Grunting, you opened your eyes and squinted, waiting for your sight to readjust to the poor light. Weird. Why would they keep you in such a pitch-black room?

“Gents?” you called out, carefully shifting upwards, wincing. “Would you mind getting the lights?”

The conversation stopped and you heard a gasp.

“Lights? But it’s the middle of the day?” said The Protagonist, but Neil cut him off.

“You’re awake!” Footsteps and a sudden touch on your hand. Neil’s voice trembled slightly, as well as his fingers. “Are you okay?”

You bored into darkness, hoping to see the familiar face.

To see anything.

To see.

(next chapter ->)

[freckledoriya]

“my eyes adored you” (izuku midoriya x reader fic)

WARNINGS: slightly angsty at times, but happy ending! 

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

SUMMARY: You were best friend with Izuku Midoriya when you were little, but went your separate ways. What happens when your paths cross again, years later? 

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | ask box

TAGLIST: at the end of the post, message me to be added/removed!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is kind of (really) trash, but hey, it’s been a while and I’m trying to get back into writing. take it easy on me. 

inspired by frankie valli’s “my eyes adored you” 

You’re standing at the register of your local coffee shop, working a hundred miles per hour during the morning rush. It’s a job that you’ve had for a while now. You tell yourself you’ll leave when you find what you’re really destined to do, but the day has yet to arrive. With no current ambition and no quirk, you’re seemingly left to take coffee orders for the rest of your days. 

Today starts to blend in with all the days before. You hear the bell of the shop door sound, and sigh before preparing your best “how can I help you?” face. And that’s when you see him. Izuku Midoriya standing in front of you.

You and Izuku Midoriya have known each other for longer than you could remember. The two of you grew up together, learning how to read side by side while thumbing through hero magazines. As a pair, you two were inseparable.

“Let’s play ‘heroes!’” five-year-old Izuku chirped with a bright smile, running up to you. He sticks his hand out for you to take. “I’ll be All Might!” 

You can’t help but smile back, giggling at your best friend’s unmatched enthusiasm. “You’re always All Might,” you tease, taking his hand in yours. 

You don’t know it then, as a naive toddler, but that feeling of pure happiness that rushes through your veins when you interlock hands with Izuku, is love in its beginning form. A love that will grow so strong, it will dominate your life and never let you free of its hold. It’s the kind of love that will keep you up at night, always wondering if tomorrow will be the day when you finally get over it, knowing damn well that tomorrow will arrive and your feelings will have only grown stronger. But right now, you’re five years old, and liking a boy is icky. 

You stick with him through everything. Through him finding out he doesn’t have a quirk, to the endless bullying he endures throughout elementary and middle school because of that. You spend nights camped out in your parents’ backyard, staying up late past your bedtime to talk about each other's feelings. Comforting him through tears, you wrap your arm around him. 

“I don’t have a quirk either,” you say. “And you still think I’m pretty great, right?”

He sniffles and nods, looking up at you and giving you a slight smile. 

You're not sure why at the time, but his smile makes your heart flutter. 

It’s not till you’re in middle school, walking home along the river as Izuku carries your books for you, that it dawns on you that you want nothing more than him to be your first everything- your first date, your first kiss, your first boyfriend. That’s when he becomes your first crush. Little did you know, that crush would seemingly endure the test of time. 

Time isn’t the only thing that tests the magnitude of your crush. After middle school, something changes. Izuku somehow gets a quirk and enters into the hero program at the prestigious U.A. high school. You could tell that he didn’t mean to leave you behind. The two of you would text every so often, vowing to meet up soon. But things never seemed to work out. He was always busy training or hanging with his newer, cooler friends. By the time of high school graduation, you two barely talked anymore. And then one year, he forgot your birthday. And then the next, and then the next.

You watched him from afar, climbing up the mountain to becoming the number one hero that he is today. Working his fingers to the bone to get himself a name, you saw the hell he went through to achieve his dream. And you admired him for it.

Some days, you’d find yourself daydreaming the day away, wishing you still were a part of Izuku’s life, but knowing full well that things could never be. He’s a top hero with fangirls, and you work the counter at a coffee shop. That humbling thought brought you back to reality.

“Can I have a coffee, please?” 

You assume that’s what Izuku says, but honestly, you’re too lost in your own thoughts and in his gorgeous, green eyes to comprehend that he’s speaking. He smiles a little bit, making your heart flutter in a way that it hasn’t in a long time. 

“M-Midoriya,” you whisper, his name falling out of your lips. 

He looks at you and slightly cocks his head to the side. Then, suddenly, you see it hit him.

“Y/N?” he asks, his eyes growing wider and wider. 

You can’t help but smile at the way he says your name. After all these years, he still says it like he’s talking to his best friend. 

“Oh my god, Y/N!” he almost yells. “I can’t believe it’s you!”

“It’s me!” you giggle. “I’ve missed you so much.”

That last part was meant to stay in your mind, but slipped out. Thankfully, Izuku is too distracted by processing that you’re in front of him to really think about it. 

“Ahem,” the person in line behind Izuku clears their throat. “I hate to ruin this moment, but some of us are in a rush to get our coffee.”

The two of you blush and mutter apologies. But then you start to panic. No, this can’t be goodbye again. You can’t let him slip out of your life again. Do something. 

“I’ll be on break in 15 minutes, if you wanna go hang out and catch up?” you say, your voice cracking at the end from nerves. 

“I’m actually on parole soon, so I can’t right now. But I’ll be done with work later tonight... We should have dinner!” 

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Sounds like a plan. Meet me here at 6?”

“Yeah!”

A beat passes of awkward silence as the two of you look at each other. 

“Um…Y/N?” he asks, his eyes looking into yours. 

“Yes?” you whisper, seemingly under his spell again. 

“...Can I get that coffee?” 

That snaps you out of it. “Yes! Of course! Coming right up!” 

The day passes painfully slow at work as you wait for 6 o'clock to roll around. The day is full of you playing back memories of you and Midoriya as children-- laughing, crying, being there for each other no matter what. It felt so good to see him earlier, like a piece of your life had been missing and you didn’t feel complete until he was standing in front of you.

You sit outside the coffee shop, waiting for him to arrive. 

… But he never does. 

It’s not till 8 that it starts to hit you that you’re being stood up. You practically feel your heart start to break. 

Because, who didn’t see this coming? Izuku Midoriya has better things to do than to hang out with you. You’re stupid for thinking otherwise. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

He’s a superstar hero, and you’re nothing compared to him. Dust. Insignificant dust. Look at him, saving the world by taking out one villain at a time. And look at you, stuck in a dead-end job with no ambitions or dreams. Crushing on a man that removed you from his life for a reason.

You feel the tears well up behind your eyes. 

How pathetic. Look at you, sitting on a bench under a streetlamp, crying. You’re an adult, hopelessly in love with someone who forgets that you even exist. Why can’t you move on? You’re crazy, that’s why. You’re insane for even entertaining the idea that someday, somehow, Izuku will come to you with his arms open. 

You can’t stop the stream of tears coming from your eyes as you break down and cry. Softly sobbing, you put your face in your hands, wanting to hide from the world forever. Then, you hear it. Someone saying your name. No, not someone. You’d know that voice anywhere. 

You look up and see Izuku kneeling beside you, eyes wide and concerned.

Immediately, you see why he was late, and you feel stupid for not thinking of it sooner.

He is beside you in his hero costume, sweaty and bleeding in various places all over his body, obviously just coming back from an intense battle that went longer than expected.

“A-are you okay?” you ask immediately, wiping your tears away with your hands. 

Izuku furrows his eyebrows. “Me? Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just some cuts and bruises… Are you okay?”

“I-” you begin to speak, your brain telling you to say ‘I’m fine!’ and make up a story about why you were sobbing on a bench by yourself. 

But you can’t. Your heart won’t let you.

“I’m so scared to lose you again,” you confess, the tears coming back to your eyes. 

Izuku's face softens. “Lose me? What do you mean? You never lost me, Y/N.” 

You sniffle and shake your head. “You went on to do such incredible and amazing things. And I’m so proud of you. But I just wish I could be part of your life again.” 

He gently places his hands over your shaking hands, his touch feels impossibly electrifying and soothing at the same time.  

“I am so sorry,” he says. His eyes drift to the side and he gulps. “I… I was scared of how I felt about you.”

“How’d you feel about me?” you ask.. 

You can see a slight blush form on Izuku’s cheeks. “Like… I really liked you.” 

He looks up at you for a response, but you’re frozen in place, your brain working overtime to figure out what he’s saying. 

He must take you silence as something negative, because he begins muttering.

“I know, it’s stupid, it’s like we were best friends and you were so great and I was so not great but our relationship was so wonderful and you made me so happy like I never would have been able to get through middle school without you and I just adored you and-”

“And now?” you interrupt. 

He stops and looks at you, eyes searching yours for answers that you’ve kept hidden and locked away for years. 

“And now… I… I… I just want to be near you.” 

You don’t think. You just hug. 

You pull Izuku into you, wrapping your arms around his neck, breathing in the scent of him and reminding yourself that this isn’t a dream. It takes a second for him to unfreeze and hug you back, but when he does, you could swear that you’re flying. 

(TOLD YOU IT WAS TRASH IM SO SORRY PLS DON’T HATE ME)

TAG LIST: @prismaroyal @wesparklebitch @bnha-violetnote @sunflower-kami-boi @shoutosteakettle @strwbrry-lia​ @birds-have-teeth​ @ee-blue @shoutodoki @denise-the-death-goddess​ @sadistiks @knifeewifee @viceofaladriel @saltie @khemz1312 @frenchspeakingfilipina @tessaisalbright @katsumi-kaminari @pixxiesdust @izukuwus @knaite-solo @inochaos​ @kiripimarules @dnarez

[stardusttrashed]

Crushing

Word Count: 2k

I racked my brain, trying to think of why I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off the class sweetheart. I should’ve been focusing on math work in front of me. It was easy enough that I could’ve completed it in my sleep. Instead, my eyes were focused on the girl across the room who busied herself, helping others and making idle conversations. 

My eyes roamed over her figure as she leaned against Deku’s desk. Somehow she made our boring uniform seem like something you’d see in a magazine. Or at least I think so. I’ve never been one to read through fashion magazines or anything. I tried my best to hide my snarl as she giggled away at something Deku said. 

I’m not really sure when it happened or even how. She’s so annoyingly kind and bubbly like a walking ball of sunshine that always manages to get in the way. She’s always rushing in to protect people, even if that meant putting herself at risk. She’s a complete idiot. 

“Yo, Earth to Bakugo,” Kirishima snapped his fingers in front of my eyes, pulling me out of my trace. I blinked several times as I tried to refocus on the paper lying on the table in front of me. “Everything alright? You’re usually done with classwork by now.”

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, “what? Are you my mom now?” I rolled my eyes as I finished up the last of the assignment. I heard Kirishima grumble something before following suit. We worked quietly for a few moments as the voices of everyone else filled the space.

“Someone is grumpier than usual today, eh,” Y/n giggled quietly, plopping herself down on the empty seat next to me. She scooted closer until she could prop her elbows up on my desk. She gave me a fake pout, “is it cause I didn’t come talk to you first?” Y/n looked me up and down with a smug smirk that made my stomach feel weird. 

I wanted to wipe that smirk off her face just so I could stop feeling like this, but all I could manage was a low growl and an eye roll. “In your dreams, idiot. You’re worse than hair-for-brains.” 

“Aw, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all week,” she continued to tease. “At this rate, he’ll join movie night for sure!” Kirishima’s laugh followed her joyous giggle. The dopey look she gave me never wavered even as I mumbled ‘idiots.’ 

I could feel Kirishima’s eyes shift back and forth between her and me, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was missing something. Before I could say anything, the bell signaling that class ended rang. 

“You are coming to movie night, right,” Y/n asked as I started packing up. Her voice was softer than usual, almost like she was nervous. 

I shook the thought out of my head. She was always the first one to stand up to me or challenge me. While the other people in our class would hesitate, she would hear me yell and laugh it off with some comeback. It was irritating, but I guess that’s why I… tolerate her more than the others. 

“Tch. I’ve got homework.”

“So do I, dummy, it’ll probably only take an hour or so. Plus, it’s the weekend.”

 Everyone had left the room already, leaving me and her alone in the room. My palms grew increasingly sweaty as my stomach did flips again. With a huff, I pulled the strap over my shoulder and headed out the door. I could hear her scrambling to get her stuff together before her rapid footsteps sounded off behind me. 

“That’s tough. I outta kick your ass.” 

My eyes wandered down to her lips as she spoke, catching the way she tried to chew back a cocky smirk. “In your dreams, pipsqueak,” I scoffed. 

“I’ll kick your ass anytime anywhere, sparky.” Y/n stopped in her tracks and shoved her pointer finger into my chest. “In case you forgot, you don’t scare me.” The cocky smirk firmly planted on her lips drove me crazy. It made my stomach flip, and my mind go hazy. 

Without thinking, I swatted her hand away and stalked off. “If it’ll make you shut the hell up,” I called behind me as calm as my nerves could let me say. “I’ll come to the damn movie night.” 

Hours had passed since I last saw Y/n, but she hadn’t left my mind since. She made it hard to do homework. Assignments that should’ve taken me 30 minutes at most took me an hour thanks to my mind constantly drifting off to think of her. I had no idea what was wrong with me. 

My phone pinged, pulling me from yet another drawn-out thought about Y/n. I checked my phone to see it was none other than Y/n herself.

Y/n: In case you haven’t heard yet, Kiri canceled movie night.

I wanted to be happy to hear that I didn’t have to go to some dumb movie night anymore, but instead, I felt disappointed. I had spent all this time preparing myself to hang out with the crew. Well, if I’m frank, I was preparing myself to hang with Y/n. Before I could talk myself out of it, I sent her a quick reply.

Movie night doesn’t have to be canceled.

Y/n: ?.... Are you offering to host a movie night?! What have you done to my precious Katsu?!?!

My lips curled up into a small smile as I read her reply. “Her precious Katsu.” I don’t know why those three words made me feel warm, but all it did was egg me on further. 

If you want to make a big deal about it I can say nevermind. 

Y/n: Stop being an idiot, I’ll be over in an hour

We had spent plenty of time alone together, more than I can count actually. She always seemed to talk me into studying together or being her sparring partner. As much as I’d hate to admit it, she’s even got me to go to the mall with her... and the others. However, something felt different about this time, I couldn’t quite explain what though. 

Time couldn’t seem to pass fast enough as I waited. I wiped my hands on my pants and checked the clock. Only ten minutes had passed. A sigh escaped my lips followed by another ping of my phone. 

Shitty Hair: Told everyone I couldn’t host movie night tonight. Maybe you and y/n can hang ;) you’re welcome

I scoffed as I read Kirishima’s text. He could be a complete idiot sometimes, but for once he might be onto something, not that I’d tell him. I rolled my eyes and tossed my phone on my bed. How’d he know that I would like hanging out with her alone instead of with everyone else? Well, if I was being honest it was more than just liking hanging out with her. I liked her company more than the others, she's even my favorite sometimes. I like h…. I cut that thought short as I walked to the bathroom to shower. It doesn’t matter how I feel about her, I don’t treat her any different from anyone else. 

My mind flipped through the various words I could use to describe my feelings for her, avoiding any sappy like words, but none seemed to fit. I finally settled on ‘tolerate’. I knew it wasn’t quite the word I was looking for, but it was the closest I was going to allow myself to admit. 

I had barely pulled on my sweatpants when a soft knock echoed through my room. A rush of nervous panic rushed through me at the sound. I hurriedly put on deodorant and hesitantly sprayed some cologne on my sweats. 

“Katsuki, you there-” Y/n started to ask, quickly cutting herself off as I opened the door. She flug her arms around my neck, pulling me closer to her in a hug. I wanted nothing more than to put my hands on her waist, but instead my hands stayed at my sides, getting sweatier by the second. 

“Hey there,” Y/n said gleefully as she finally let go of me. “Oh-” her eyes roamed over my body, “- I, uh, you smell good.” The slight tint on her cheeks gave me a little boost of confidence. “Is that a new soap or something?”

I couldn’t help the smirk growing on my face. “What? You go around smelling me now? Tch. Weirdo.” I glanced down as she playfully hit my chest, taking in the spandex shorts that clung to her thighs. I caught myself staring before she noticed and stepped aside so she could come in. 

“I hate you sometimes.” She walked into my room like it was her own, plopping herself down on my bed. She kicked off her shoes before making herself comfortable. “Did you pick a movie yet? Also can I borrow a sweatshirt?”

“Why do you need a sweatshirt when you’re sitting on covers,” I scoffed as I grabbed a shirt.

“Cause I don’t want to mess up your bed dummy.”

I rolled my eyes and walked over to the bed, the shirt still in my hands. “Move over idiot.” I climbed onto the bed, sitting next to her. “Should’ve brought your own sweatshirt then,” I grumbled as I lifted my arm closest to her. I shrugged off her curious look, “you always call me a heater, so I.” I trailed off as the nerves began to get the better of me.  Before I could put my arm down she leaned into my side. I let go of a tense breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding in.

Having my arm around her just felt right. Her touch set my skin ablaze, but I cou;dn’t think of anyone else I would rather hold. A comfortably awkwardness fell over us as we both shifted in silence, trying to get situated. 

“Katsuki, do you like me?” Her question took me off guard. “Sorry, probably should’ve asked better. I just- I have to know, y’know. I wasn’t sure about coming over cause watching movies alone together just seemed too much like a date.” Her voice wavered as she continued to obviously nervously ramble. “It’s fine if I’m wrong. It just Kiri is convinced that you like me.” Her small scoff tugged at my heart.

There it was. The word I was avoiding, but already knew. Like. Yeah, I guess I do like her. I’m not sure when it started, but I’ve liked her for a while now. Everyday she always seemed to find another reason to make me like her. Even now I could find at elast a dozen more reasons to like her. But liking her meant being soft and vulnerable. It’s scary. I suppressed the urge to deny what she was saying, allowing her to continue her train of thought.

“I dunno, I figured he was just saying it to make me feel better about, well, about me liking you-,”

“You like me?” I couldn’t help it, the words left my mouth in a raised tone before I could stop them. 

Y/n looked up at me for the first time since she started talking with the same dopey grin I always seemed to catch her staring at me with. “Yes sparky! I’ve been flirting with you for forever now! Geez, for someone so smart in class, you’re pretty dumb.”

I crashed my lips down onto her’s clumsily. I wanted to wipe that nerve wrecking smile off her face, but for once she left me speechless. So I did the next best thing. And man, she was better than any dream. Y/n wasted no time in returning my affections, her lips hungrily matching mine while her hand found an resting spot on my chest. 

“Will you shut up now?” Out of habit, my anger covered for my embarrassment. 

Y/n giggled quietly, completely undeterred by my outburst, “about getting Katsuki tough guy Bakugo to like me and admit it?” She pretended to think. “Not a chance,” she chuckled, kissing my cheek. 

“Shut up! I didn’t admit shit!”

“You totally did.”

“That’s it! Get out, movie night is over!”

Y/n’s laughter filled the room like sunshine as she shook her head in protest. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

She was right. Against my better judgement she stayed until morning and even some nights after. For the next couple of months we would take turns sleeping in each other’s rooms, far too ‘tired’ to go back to our own until the next morning. I still can’t remember when I started liking her, but I know when I finally officially confessed to her and when I promised myself I wasn’t going to stop. It took a lot, but it felt good to finally tell herthat I like her. Sure, I got called a total softie by her for a solid week after, but they way she almost teared up when I told her made it worth it. Well, that and the kisses that followed.

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Your Good Time | Explicit | 3070 words

Louis nodded along with what the guy was saying, apparently his arousal taking over his brain to mouth filter as he said, “Who would want to hide a fit bloke like you? That guys an idiot.” Louis scoffed, dramatizing the word ‘idiot’, giving the guy a sly smirk. The guy leaned an arm against the bar, turned his body to Louis and fixed him with a curious look before he held out a hand.

“M’Harry.”

Louis and Harry meet in a bar when Harry's date is an ass. Inspired by Temporary Fix by One Direction.

2) I Push You To The Limits | Explicit | 3846 words

Louis is a brat who likes seeing his boyfriend get jealous and possessive over him.

3) Overkill | Explicit | 4354 words

Louis was never going to get over how fucking attractive Harry was. How glorious his big, tall, curvy body was. The feeling of Harry behind him, hot and heavy, trapped on the tube after they’d been somewhere during rush hour. His thick hands, full of pretty rings sometimes, handing Louis a cup of coffee, then getting one for himself.

4) Too Nervous to be Lovers | Mature | 6445 words

Louis doesn't want to spend quarantine with Harry, his straight roommate, who doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

5) Fratboy In Love | Mature | 6830 words

Harry Styles was a frat boy who loved to sleep around and flirt with boys and girls. Louis was a good uni student who loved to stay in and study and wasn't much of a partier.

Insert his best friend Niall who talks him into going. Louis gets drunk and ends up sleeping with harry. The next day he leaves before Harry wakes and tries to avoid him at all costs. Thinking Harry wouldn't care since Louis was just another conquest. But what if Harry did care. And actually have a crush on Louis. Read and find out

6) My Sunflower | Mature | 7057 words

Louis would rather be sunbathing at the beach with his friends, not slaving his spring break away in his father’s flower shop.

7) Waiting | Explicit | 8023 words

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

8) Shine Light Upon Your Ground | Explicit | 8506 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/H, which the reader can picture as Harry or Henry Cavill.

Louis sighs again and fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist, twisting the charms around and petting the fake diamonds.

“How much for a night?” A deep voice suddenly asks him. The man who approaches him is already pulling out his wallet and flicking through a bundle of bills. Louis, who had been sitting at the bar completely innocent and minding his own business, lets out an offended, strangled sound.

“Excuse me?” He demands, straightening up in his seat. The hem of his dress creeps further up his thigh but he pays it no mind.

9) Glistening Under The Sun (You're My Honey Soaked Love) | Mature | 8996 words

“Oh Petal,” he picks her up nuzzling the top of her head with his cheek as she nibbles on the lavender, “How lucky are we? I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy, the only thing we have to be sad about is that soon I won’t be able to hold you like this,”

10) Connected To The Heart | Explicit | 9059 words

Note: This is an coda scene for this fic.

“Your stage cue is way too close for you to be wearing that look you’re wearing,” Louis informs him. He can’t stop himself from looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, the silk of Harry’s dress shirt brushing against the backs of his knuckles.

“Twenty minutes,” Harry agrees. His breath is minty from the gum he was chewing earlier, fresh and warm. “Twenty minutes can be a long time, baby.”

This time, Louis has to force himself to roll his eyes. “Not nearly long enough for the way you always want to fuck me.”

11) Fuck U Betta | Explicit | 11438 words

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

OR the one where Harry likes the thrill of the chase, Louis likes to be chased, and everyone gets what they need… in the end.

12) Kiss Me In Your Chevrolet | Explicit | 11569 words

"Yes, Lou?" Harry asked, rubbing his tired eyes. A gust of wind came through the open windows, sending chills down Harry's arms as a light rain began falling outside. He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back to the couch arm rest.

"Can we go there?" Louis asked, probably pointing somewhere. Harry opened his eyes and felt his heart jump in his chest, a magazine page a couple of inches away from his face. Startled, Harry closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to collect himself.

Harry blinked a few times to focus his eyes on the page Louis still held in front of his nose. "You want to go to the Grand Canyon?" He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the left to look at Louis' face.

13) Pull The Trigger | Explicit | 12007 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #16 on this list.

Louis has never been alright with killing. Will that change when he learns what it's like to be the one holding the gun?

14) Open All Night | Explicit | 12537 words

It’s six in the morning when Harry finally makes it back home.

Harry's a bartender, Louis' got a nice ass and a shit taste in men. They make it work.

15) Among Other Things | Explicit | 16073 words

“Harry, it’s 7:45, oh my god, my class starts at 8:15,” and Louis wants to cry. Harry’s busy under the bed trying to find the tiny silver key but Louis knows that fate just hates him and he needs to find a way to get up. “Harry, I—fuck,” Louis whines. Harry stands up in a rush.

“I can’t seem to find them. It. The key.”

Or, Louis’ the teacher of Harry Styles’ daughter. Their paths shouldn’t cross like this. This meaning Louis showing up to school handcuffed to a headboard.

16) A Bullet And It's Gun | Explicit | 18156 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #13 on this list. 

Louis’ parents arrange his marriage with Harry. He’s fully ready to accept that he’s going to be a sad and lonely person for the rest of his life. But then Harry starts proving himself as more than just an asocial man with money.

17) By Such Slight Ligaments | Explicit | 26764 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Henry Cavill.

A late night visit to a patient sets off a series of events that will turn Louis' world upside down.

... Here there be monsters.

18) At Your Fingertips | Explicit | 27384 words

He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before.

His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later.

And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button.

Three…

Two…

One.

Play.

19) Forgot My Roots Now Watch Me Bloom | Explicit | 28334 words

Lonely transit worker Louis pulls his longtime crush, Peter, from the path of an oncoming train. At the hospital, doctors report that he's in a coma, and a misplaced comment from Louis causes Peter's family to assume that he is his fiancée. When Louis doesn't correct them, they take him into their home and confidence. Things get even more complicated when he finds himself falling for Peter's brother, Harry. Loosely based on the movie "While You Were Sleeping".

20) Push You Out, Pull You Back In | Explicit | 31544 words

Harry hates feeling vulnerable. Louis is set on breaking through his tough facade.

21) Baby Blue | Explicit | 39439 words

Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head.

He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin.

“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.”

22) Lidocaine And Palm Trees | Explicit | 44653 words

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

23) Sleeping On Our Problems | Explicit | 67369 words

Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

24) Truth Would Be | Explicit | 91869 words

“You want me? I’m not a… a thing to be owned!” Louis stuttered, still very angry and confused.

“Hmmm…” The alpha tapped his lips as if he was contemplating something. “Last time I checked, the debt was paid off and the only thing I had asked in return was… you. So technically I do own you.”

“You are crazy…” Louis muttered as he began to back towards the door. Harry’s impossibly green eyes turned a shade darker, but his tone was still teasing and light when he said, “Maybe I am…”

The I-paid-off-all-your-debt-so-you-are-mine AU in which Omega Louis wants to be left alone by Alpha Harry but it's super complicated when he starts to not hate the alpha all that much.

25) Collision | Not Rated | 224594 words

Note: This fic was finished in 2018, but two new epilogue chapters have been added.

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

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