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softly-savage-mint-yoongi · 4 years ago

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Allotrope pt. 7 (FINALE)

Genre: Idolverse Pairing: Kim Junmyeon (Suho) x reader Warnings: Smut. Angst, and then more angst. Authors Note: This is it, the final chapter of a story I am so completely humbled to have been able to write. This story means so much to me and has truly helped me grow as a person in so many ways. I hope that by the end of this, it has helped you, too, in some way. Junmyeon deserves the world and I wish I could thank him enough for being my muse. Thank you for reading. prev. Words: 15k.

Panic. Absolute panic is the only way your brain can comprehend the raw energy bouncing around in your gut. Feelings of elation and terror swirling inside the confines of your organs, their chemicals mixing to create something bubbling and new, growing rapidly inside of you so thick and uncomfortable you feel as though you may burst. With your arrival home, you slam the door too harshly, sliding down against the sturdy, cool weight of it and grasp your head in your hands. Head between your knees, your brain gently reminds you, a message in the form of a memory of Junmyeon the last time he said these words to you, present for the last attack. Saying ‘I love you’, no less from him, was the last thing you would expect to trigger one, but that was the irony of having panic attacks; sometimes you never know. You concentrate intently, calming your breath enough to listen for the sound of your watch, reliably ticking away there on your wrist. It is one reason you prefer to wear an analog one, other than your preferences for their history. Tck, tck, tck, tck, rhythmically you listen, breathing deeply over the span of three seconds, releasing carbon dioxide in the following three. Over and over until your heart is beating normally again. Softly, automatic and easily ignored within the safety of your ribs. Then, to clarify and accept, you admit the thought into the quiet space of your apartment. “I love you, Junmyeon.” Reflexively, your fingertips raise to shield your lips, hovering a centimeter away. Your heart beats a little faster with the admission but is easily pacified without much effort. A smile grows on your lips behind them, amusement consuming the panic and coloring your cheeks in a blush for only inanimate objects to see. It feels silly to look around your apartment, knowing there is no one to hear your confession. The following morning you can’t say you feel less terrified of it, your acceptance of the thoughts and ability to keep moving forward derailed somewhere as your mind raced into the future instead of sleeping. Conscious thoughts considered at first all of the possibilities as you had settled for sleep. Good things. Things like a confirmation of his feelings, a mirror of your own, and further ahead such as living together full time and eventually, hopefully a union of your love with matching golden bands on your fourth fingers, or a child you could only hope would have his cheeks and a head full of fluffy black hair. To growing older together and doing whatever pleased you so long as you were together. No doubt your brain decided, all of those beautiful moments were hopes planted without seeds, and you were stuck to watch a barren field grow nothing at all over time. Your fears and anxiety began to take them all away one by one, these hopes for the future you might never have at all, pulled backward through time like you were falling through a nightmare. Forced to see a life of fulfillment and love only to slip back through those times to relive the same life without any of the joy. You awoke this morning, barely able to call it waking at all, full of heartache. Your chest felt so heavy you even skipped your lecture and called out of work. Upon hearing of your absence Soohyun even offered to bring you something to help you feel better, assuming you were sick. No texts that required an answer came from Junmyeon, either. Only one bidding you to sleep well. When you ignored Soohyun’s text and the second day produced the same results from you, his persistence became annoying. You were perfectly malcontent there on your couch in the same pajamas you wore yesterday, and perhaps the day before, too. With hair unwashed, sagging in the bun atop your head and a three-hour old mug of half-drank black coffee in your hands. There on your couch you scrutinized every aspect of your life and felt nothing at all. Soohyun let himself in of course, as he always did when he felt it was necessary. You knew by the sound of the keys outside of the door and the weighty footfalls of his frame it was him. The one person you trusted to see every ugly facet of you because although he was extremely dear to you, he is not the one that makes you feel like his existence is your tether to the world, and therefore, not as scary to face. He says nothing at all. Uncomfortably in the silence, you listen to him close the door, toe off his shoes, and set something in a plastic grocery bag on the counter. He opens your refrigerator and pops the lid on something. You remain silent still, listening to the domesticity of him opening cupboards in your kitchen and the sound of noodles being stirred and plated. The sounds toy with your head, recalling memories of another man doing the same thing, but vivid imagery came with those memories. The sound of the plate gently clacking against the microwave platter and the door closing, buttons beeping and whirring. Stuck in your memory of him, you whip your head around, too enticing to see if it’s really your lover standing in your kitchen and looking back at you with a smile and his arms folded across the thickness of his warm chest. If this is all just a dream. The reality is half the same, the setting, but the way you do not find Junmyeon’s eyes or smile, but Soohyun’s face full of surprise but also worry rip the air from your lungs with a sob. You’re not even sure when you started crying, but the tears continue to blur your vision. “Oh, Y/N.” Soohyun’s cologne fills your senses as he crosses the room to you. He takes the cold coffee cup from your hand, wincing at the stiffness of your fingers as he plucks them gently from the handle, and wraps your wilted frame into his arms. He holds you like this, coaxing out the agony of your bleeding heart. Minutes pass like this, and after your sobbing has quieted to a sniffled dripping of crystal tears from your lashes, Soohyun sets you back onto the couch cushion, “Care to tell me what’s going on?” Your knees automatically rise to your chest and your arms find their way around the top of them. The rational part of you knows talking to Soohyun is what you should do, but it doesn’t make it any easier to persuade the chaotic petulance you feel. Your thoughts internalize, eyes fixated on the basket of blankets in the far corner of the living room, fingers rolling a stray thread from your pajamas around and around. “Y/N, try not to let your head get you all worked up. What’s going on?” your best friend urges, placing the weight of his large palm against your forearm. The action seems to ground you to reality. At least enough to make intentional, purposeful movements. Your eyes find his looking at you as they always do, with so much pure acceptance. “I love him. Really, Soohyun-“ you pause, brows knitting tightly for emphasis, “Like… I’m really in love with him.” The smile that he answers you with irritates you minutely, “Ah, I see. Well,” A pauses lapses between you until he thinks of what to ask, “What is it that’s scaring you about that?” It takes a full ten seconds before you answer, “A lot of things, but mostly because I don’t want to tell him and scare him off. I don’t think I could stomach chancing it just for him to know my feelings, Soo.” Your best friend draws a breath, nodding. Then he stares at you, “Okay. What else?” “Aren’t you going to tell me I’m being ridiculous?” you ask, peeking at him. He laughs a little, “In a minute, but I want to hear it all first. We can work on it all one piece at a time,” he reassures, batting your hand away gently when you take a half-hearted swat at his arm. “I don’t know what to do, Soohyun,” your throat bobs, constricting the words with anxiety as you admit it. More tears well at the edges of your eyes, and you take a deep breath to calm yourself. “I’m afraid, even if I tell him and even if he says he loves me back, I keep thinking for how long?” you voice, croaking the words. Another breath, “How long will I feel so happy and lucky but,” another breath, “how long can I take being suspended on a wire like that waiting to fall? It can’t last forever.” Soohyun coos, even though his expression is sheepish as if he hadn’t meant to slip, “Sorry.” “I just,” you sigh, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand, which Soohyun reaches to replace with tissues, “I feel like it’ll all go away someday. He will get tired of me or there will be some fight or something and I don’t want to hurt him or lose him. I keep having this nightmare that I’ll wake up one day at he won’t be there. That it’ll be like he never existed at all. “But you want to love him,” Soohyun confirms softly beside you, gently tugging until you’re sinking down to lean against his arm, no matter how gross your hair might be. “Yeah.” He hums briefly, considering, “Are you scared of being alone?” Truthfully, “Not really. It’s more like I’m afraid to start a life with him, because it’s so hard to go back to being alone if it doesn’t work out. To feeling that kind of heartbreak.” “What do you mean? Like permanently living together or sharing bank accounts and bills and stuff?” he asks. “Yeah. Like what if we bought a house together and then he decides ten years from now he doesn’t want to be with me anymore and then it’s too expensive for me to own a house alone so I’d have to sell it and find my own place again and it just gets really tangled. I can’t imagine being able to do anything other than just be heartbroken. How does a person move past someone like him?” Soohyun’s silent chuckle is given away by his bouncing chest, “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, but-“ You cut him off, “No, I’m thinking about the future.” He pokes you in the cheek, “Let me finish, please. What I was going to say, is that I think you’re most afraid of the emotional damage that would cause you. I also think you need to look at this from your own perspective.” Raising your head, your confusion is evident after his last statement. “I mean,” he begins, “You’re saying this but what if it isn’t Junmyeon who isn’t happy ten years from now? Have you ever shared a life with someone like that? How do you know if you will be happy or not? And I’m not just talking about a house or bank accounts, Y/N.” Soohyun squeezes your frame as if to emphasize his point, “I’m talking about personally. Are you going to be okay sharing every aspect of yourself with someone else? If you want him to be that future with you, he will be closer to you than anyone has ever been. He will be the one who knows your deepest and darkest moments. Have you two even talked about all of those important things? What plans do you each have for your lives? Marriage, kids, politics, things like that.” Both of you pause and Soohyun sighs, “What if you don’t want to be together anymore at some point. How will you handle that? Do you think you’ll stay and be miserable with him if you wanted out?” “That’s impossible,” you correct. “Anything is possible, Y/N,” he says quietly. Shaking your head, you ignore him and lift your head from him with a face full of resolute determination, “I am telling you, that won’t happen.” Saying the words aloud, they feel right and sure as they form on your tongue. “Okay. Just saying, you never know.” It doesn’t help. He feels you stiffen at the thought, “But I also think he will be the one who has nothing but acceptance and support for anything you may need. He will be the one you lean on and cling to for the rest of your life.” Now that thought is something that blooms warmth in your chest and more tears to your eyes, but in a good way this time. You have already experienced that with him. Every obstacle you thought might scare him away he has done nothing but been patient and supportive of you. However, there’s a slight unease with the phrase ‘for the rest of your life’ that tinges the edge of the sweetness with fear. “Yeah, well,” you comment through the bashfulness, swallowing the anxiety that wants to raise your voice. He laughs, “You can’t argue with me!” The dull thud of your fist lightly thumping him on the chest brings you back to square one, unable to quell your worries for long, “But truly, Soohyun, honestly what if he doesn’t love me the way I love him? What if he doesn’t love me enough? I’m not worried about how much I love him.” you sit up suddenly, eyes wide and hands flurried, “I mean, look at him. He’s a celebrity, and a gentleman and too go-“ Soohyun’s hand clamps over your mouth immediately, “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Stop thinking it in your head, too. Let me tell you something in case you have forgotten,” He stares at you pointedly to be sure you’ll keep quiet as he slowly removes his hand, “He may be a celebrity but do you remember what happened in those first few times you met with him?” “A lot of sex,” you comment dryly, and he smiles. “Well sure, but I remember you telling me so much about not the celebrity but the man with so much love and comfort for others and nothing but bleak loneliness and sadness for himself. About how easily you saw through him and how he told you he struggled with anxiety and his own self-worth. And,” he pauses for emphasis, “How you were there for him every time since you began this relationship. How you have helped him ease his own fears and doubts. Y/N, he needs you, too. More than you think. I think you see through him so easily that you sometimes dismiss his own feelings, even if you don’t mean to.” It helps. A lot more than you’re willing to accept right now while the anxiety still has hooks deep into you, “Thank you.” Soohyun smiles at you, “I think you just need to give it some time. Just because you realize you love him,” he makes explosive gestures with his hands, “Like really love him, doesn’t mean you have to go straight into making plans for rings and a mortgage and babies. Take your time, take it slow.” “Take it slow.” You repeat after him, nodding, lips in a pensive straight line. _____________________________________________ The following morning you wake feeling refreshed physically. Soohyun made sure you showered and that you slurped down a bowl of japchae and a few pieces of kimbap while he started a load of laundry for you. He made you clip your nails while he made you some tea and painted your toenails for you while you binged a new episode of your favorite show. He even made you take a nap, tossing your weighted blanket over your frame and leaving you to a peaceful slumber, locking the door behind him as he left. You’re a bit alarmed that you slept all afternoon, evening, and night. Checking your phone, you realize nearly 15 hours had passed. 05:17a, your phone reads, forcing you to hiss at the harsh light when you turn it over to check the time. You don’t have work until 10, but decide you can’t sleep any longer. Two unread text messages are awaiting you when you open the app. One from Soohyun wishing you a good night and to please call him if you need anything. The second is from Junmyeon, wishing you to sleep well and that he heard from Soohyun not to bother you because you’ve had a rough couple of days. He is worried that you’re so exhausted. Chewing your lip, you send Soohyun a simple thanks, and decide to see if Junmyeon is free to come over and see you later. You don’t want him to worry too much, and if you’re being honest with yourself, even through the anxiety, you still want to hold him and be near him. His response comes while you’re at work, just having woken up you assume. He tells you if he can finish recording before midnight he will come over, but stresses that he doesn’t want to keep you awake. During a quick break, you take a moment to assure him you’ve slept enough and will be wide awake. You don’t forget to add that you would really like to see him. Work goes by in an easy blur. You splurge on a fancy coffee and an extra shot of espresso to keep you awake on your way to the subway station. There is plenty of time to do some cleaning, make a meal and get a long hot shower. You even have time to wrap up an assignment for your worst class, feeling sour but proud that all of the time you spent unable to sleep, you managed to at least get ahead in a class that was otherwise the bane of your existence. When eleven thirty rolls around and you haven’t heard from him, you believe he isn’t coming. A very tiny but loud part of your brain says that’s fine and that you were afraid anyway. The bigger, softer and sensitive part of you misses him to such a degree that you sit on the couch wearing one of his hoodies, leaning on your palm and fighting off sleep with only the light of the table lamp beside you for company. You wake to the sound of the door clicking shut. Blearily, you squeeze your eyes shut at the harsh light from the lamp as you hear someone behind you. With a stiff neck, you turn and crack one eye open to see your favorite person trying his best to stay quiet. He smiles at you when he notices you’re awake, approaching you as he rounds the couch, draping his palm gently over your hair. “Hey,” he coos quietly, voice tinged with affection. Without much thought, you open your arms to reach for him, and he bends down to you. Still sleepy, it takes your mind a moment to realize he has lifted you into his arms as you pass the bathroom door. Your body melts into his familiar body with your arms around his shoulders. Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you inhale the faint scent of his cologne, still fragrant enough from this morning. “I missed you,” you mumble against his skin. “I missed you too, sweetheart.” He murmurs into your hair. He feels you take a deep breath against him, chuckling at the sigh of content that follows. Slowly, he deposits you among your unmade bed linens and pecks your forehead with his lips. A sound of protest rumbles in your chest, your lower lip falling outward in a pout. “Let me shower and I’ll come to bed,” he says, stripping himself of his sweater and tossing it into your clothes hamper beside the door. You hum with acquiescence, “What time is it?” Quietly, through your sleep-laden eyes, you watch him with a soft fondness that settles in your chest. Junmyeon sits at the foot of the bed briefly to peel off his socks and slacks, “Three twenty, sorry I’m so late.” Twisting himself just enough to reach, he kisses your lips. “It’s okay. I’m just glad to see you.” He looks at you for a moment with a lopsided grin and thankful eyes. His hand settles over yours in your lap, rubbing his thumb over your skin. Then, his warmth is gone. Your eyes drift shut again while you wait for him. You’re not sure what kind of sleep spell you are under when he finally crawls into your bed with you, but your body automatically seeks his warmth, asleep but with consciousness floating at the edges. Your boyfriend sighs, wrapping you in his arms and placing his lips in your hair. Snuggling closer, you let your arm fall over his ribs, settling your face into his naked chest. You mumble again, tongue loose in your spellbound stupor. When your brain finally makes sense of your words, you freeze, bolting upright as if cold water had been doused down your spine. Junmyeon groans beside you, already half asleep, “What’s wrong?” “I-“ you begin, covering your mouth with both hands and staring at him. Heat floods your cheeks, worry turns your bones to steel, “What did I just say?” He peeks at you with one eye, lips set in a confused line, “What?” He tries to pull you back down to him by the sleeve of the hoodie. You watch him for a moment longer, realizing he didn’t seem to hear you, “You didn’t hear me?” His slight annoyance at your outburst seems appropriate evidence that he did not in fact hear you at all. “Was I supposed to? I didn’t hear you say anything,” he confirms. “No,” you shake your head immediately, running your hand through your hair with a deep breath to calm your beating heart. “Will you lay down then? I just want to hold you and go to sleep, please.” His request is simple enough. You do as he asks, but it doesn’t stop you from lying awake for what seemed like the rest of the night. Finally, you fall into unconsciousness somewhere around the time the sun begins to open its eyes, easing into slumber as shapes outside your window begin to take form. You dream of Junmyeon. You dream of his hands and his voice and the relentless overwhelming feeling of good he gives you. You dream of his lips on your neck and his fingers blazing a fire under your hoodie, crawling up and up and up until his palm gently takes the globe of your breast in his hand and he moans. Dropping your lips open with a sigh, you can feel your pulse in your core. Your hips seem to roll back of their own accord, body singing without conscious effort in your sleep. “Fuck, I want to get woken up like this every day,” Junmyeon groans. Confused, you will your body to pause, and snap your eyes open. Oh. Whatever dreams you were having must have manifested physically, grinding yourself into your boyfriend to satiate the need. You turn your head just slightly, smiling into a kiss your lover steals the moment the opportunity presents itself. His palm has not forgotten where it lays, giving another squeeze and a soft pass of his fingers over your bud. It pulls a moan from your lips, bowing your spine to push your ass harder against his aching erection where it presses between your cheeks. The delicious friction makes you squeeze your thighs together, further surprising you when you realize how slick you are. “Good morning,” he coos with amusement. You have no time for words- you need him badly, and you need him now. It appears he doesn’t know how wet you are yet, so you show him. His brows furrow in concern briefly as you remove his hand from your chest beneath the hoodie. The expression morphs into a grin when he realizes what you’re doing while you drag his hand down into your panties. You watch, open-mouthed in anticipation when his face mirrors surprise at the first easy slide of his fingers through your soaked folds. “Holy shit,” he whispers, biting at his lip when he sinks two into your heat without any warning. He gives you one deep pump and you absolutely keen, feeling like you’ll burst. “Junmyeon, please,” you beg, falling onto your back the moment he hears your plea, sitting up to find a proper position. He shifts onto his knees quickly and removes his hand from your core. When he lifts his fingers and pulls them apart, you both groan at the thread of your arousal that stretches between them in the sunlight. Flexing your hips at the loss of contact, your lover pulls his attention back to you, working quickly to pull your hips up onto his thighs. He pulls your leggings down alone, just so he can marvel at the state of your panties. Embarrassment floods your cheeks and you push the hem of the black hoodie down in an attempt to cover yourself. With what you would call a soft display of possession, Junmyeon makes a sound of warning in his throat, gently pushing your hands away as he confesses, “You have no idea how hot this is.” “It’s embarrassing,” you whimper back to him. Your body feels hot, too hot. You’ve seldom been this turned on in your life, to the point of tear-inducing hysteria if you don’t find release soon. He smiles at you, his eyes tearing away from the sight of your mess to look directly at you. “I promise you this is nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re amazing, look at how wet you are.” Junmyeon can’t help himself while he talks, eyes drifting back to your cunt and two fingers petting down your folds over your underwear. “Don’t need to see it…” you whisper, throwing your arm over your eyes. He hums, “You’re right. I’m sure you can feel how messy you are.” The two fingers he used earlier find their way beneath the material, pushing it aside to fill you again. “How does it feel, sweetheart?” he asks when you cry out. “I feel like I’m going to burst,” you moan, unable to keep your hips still, meeting his fingers for every deep thrust. Your statement peaks some interest in your boyfriend. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and his thrusts become slower, almost exploratory as he pets them against your walls. The palm of his other hand lays just above your pubic bone, resting the weight of his hand there, but you barely notice. Being filled by something has you reeling in bliss. A second later, he must find what he’s looking for. His digits set an unexpected pace, spearing you in a delicious tempo. You feel so good, “So fucking good, oh my god Junmyeon, yes!” He’s hitting some spot inside of you that spins that coil in you tighter and tighter until you’re right at the edge. Then his fingers are gone, but you’re screaming. Your eyes open and Junmyeon groans in awe at the fluid that has suddenly ruptured from you. Just briefly, but even in your pleasure, embarrassment is stronger. You clamp your legs together tightly, whimpering at the electricity that fizzles in every nerve of your body. “I’m sorry, that was-“ you begin, cut short by the feel of Junmyeon’s lips on yours and his tongue begging for entrance immediately. He's leaning over you now, fingers deftly yanking your panties down and off. You moan into his mouth when you feel the burning length of his cock lay against your dripping core. His lips leave yours just enough to speak, “Never be sorry. I’m happy I could make you squirt.” You smack him in the back, “Shut up!” you complain, still embarrassed. “You are incredible,” he reminds you, hands full of his hips while he pulls his own back precisely enough to tip himself at the perfect angle. You’re well practiced now with each other, able to satisfy efficiently with little to no error. You’re comfortable to give and take from each other without need for conversation, like now. Junmyeon doesn’t ask if you need him to fill you- he knows. He doesn’t ask how you want it and you don’t ask him if this is okay for him. It’s written plainly between you in the blood heating your faces, the sounds spilling between your sweating bodies, the eager yet affectionate way you’re holding onto parts of each other. It's clear in the way you let yourself relax back into the mattress with eyes closed and blissed out. In the way he leans protectively over your body with his own, needing to be closer and closer still when he laces his fingers into yours with both hands. In the way your panting moans grow in octave as your orgasm approaches and roars through you as you pull your hands away only to pull him down, flush atop you while you ride it out. It is clear in the way he, too, seems to melt into your frame, even as he tenses and moans salaciously against the column of your throat when his peak follows. Neither of you say anything for a long moment, catching your breaths together in post coital bliss. You break the moment, feeling sticky and needing to get the bedding in the washing machine as soon as possible. Junmyeon whines the entire time, refusing to get off of you until you nearly roll him off of the bed completely. Grumbling cutely, he helps you strip the bed and takes the wad of linens from you with a kiss. He finds you in the bathroom when he’s finished, stripped and waiting for the showerhead’s water to turn warm. You invite him in with you, washing in content. You don’t speak, but your actions are loud. Loving, in these small moments of care for each other. When you’re finished and dressed and the coffee pot is started, Junmyeon collects your favorite mugs from the shelf and opens your medication, delivering one small pill to your palm with a kiss to your forehead. The affection of it squeezes your heart and drifts a smile across your face at the progress of such an event. Months back, him even knowing these pills existed within your life caused you extreme anxiety. You watch, reminiscing with a small smile, as he pours your coffee first, always the gentleman, before his own. He trails you back to the bedroom in silent happiness, where coffee mugs are placed on bedside tables and new bedding is waiting to be put on. Junmyeon helps you remake the bed, pulling you down into the soft thickness of the comforter when you’re finished. He forces you into his arms against your fake, feeble protesting, humming his comfort once you finally give up and settle into his warmth. Movement beyond the sheer curtain covering the windows catches your attention. “I think it’s snowing,” you murmur, lifting your chin to look at Junmyeon. Your boyfriend turns his head, exposing the expanse of his neck to you, calling you to place a gentle token of affection there with the pink of your lips. He smiles when he feels your lips against him, but lets you out of his grip to rise from the bed. He picks up his coffee and goes to the window. You join him, curious if you had been right as he moves the curtain with the back of his free hand. Surely enough, there are soft, chilled tufts of snow drifting by quietly, down to the street below. You watch, smile broadening at the pretty sight. Junmyeon seems to have gone still and quiet, and you turn to look at him with the feeling of his eyes on you. As if broken from a spell, he blinks at you, cheeks flooding with a delicate pink. He busys himself taking a swig of his coffee and leaning over to place his mug on the dresser beside the window. “You okay?” you ask, smiling at him with a gentle laugh. Your hand rises to his arm where it still has the curtain raised, and you hear him audibly sigh. “Y/N,” he whispers, swapping his arms so he can tug you against him. Wrapping your arms around his middle, you accept his needy invitation for cuddling with your face buried in the fabric of the sweatshirt he wears. You’re content, serotonin hydrating your heart with the sound of your name on his lips. Turning your head, you let it rest against his chest, hearing his heart beat and watching the snow drift from the top to the bottom of your window. “I love you,” Junmyeon says quietly. You realize suddenly how fast his heart is beating in his chest, and you’re frozen in a moment of time. When you lift your head, agonizingly slow, he meets your eyes with a mix of emotions. Some apprehension, curiosity, fear, affection and devotion- all flitting across the galaxy of his dark eyes in a myriad of microseconds. You feel lightheaded, remembering to breathe. It takes several seconds to swallow and gather the strength to speak. “No, you don’t.” His brows shove together and the stars in his eyes die a little, confused, “Yes, I do.” Shaking your head, you break away from his grasp, standing back to look at him. You want nothing more than to run back into his arms and let his words be true. You want to let yourself believe it is that easy. But you have to protect yourself, you need to have time, “You don’t mean that,” you say with more conviction, refusing to meet his pleading expression. Then, he steels his spine, feet planted firmly to the floor, and he sighs in frustration, “Y/N. I. Love. You. It doesn’t mean you have to say it back right now, or at all, or that we have to do something about it. It just felt right to let you know.” You lower your head and close your eyes as if that will help to do something, although you don’t know what. To stop the thoughts racing in your head or the pounding ache of your heart or the tears welling in your eyes or the fear turning your gut sour. To block out the truth of his words or to just let go. “I just,“ you try, exhaling deeply, “I think you should leave. I need to think.” Junmyeon frowns. Of course he is sad, but he does what you ask. His feet move quietly toward the door and you hear him don his shoes and shut the door behind him. He does not slam it, and you almost wish he did. It would make your guilt so much easier if he yelled at you or slammed the door. It would make the echo of his words, said with such blinding genuine care, feel a lot less like a wish whispered down a hollow well. Later that evening, you’re drunk. Drunk and sad, stumbling around in the snow in the park outside of your apartment building. You deliberately walk through a stick drawing of a heart and two initials, feeling rotten and lost and impulsive. Your feet carry you to a messier scene. More snow, divided by a plow, sprayed with dirty water from shoes and cars at the edges of the street in ugly clumps that look the way your heart feels. Annoyance settles over your frown. Your hands are toasty inside of your coat pockets but you have to keep removing one or the other to wipe at your chilled nose. You keep walking, and eventually pass a storefront with industrial steel and wood. It’s the sushi restaurant you went to with Junmyeon back in the spring. Looking up from your parade of snow-kicking, you see one of your favorite parks, with tall iron lamps glowing with their halogen bulbs. The light casts shadows across the small snow drifts, as if painted black with patterns of bare tree branches. Walking closer, a serene calm possesses your weary bones, calling you to take a seat on one of the benches- a small smile tugging your lips at the sound of the snow crunching under your weight. For the hell of it, you twist slightly, snuggling back into the lofty chill of it. The flakes fall slowly around you, still watching the shadows dancing across the untouched white. There’s something soothing in the blanket of silence around you- even in the middle of the city. A stolen moment like this at- you check your phone- three forty in the morning. You let your mind wander, until another presence interferes with your thoughts, unwelcome. Steeling yourself to tell someone off, your head turns slightly to the left to see a tall, skinny man standing under the next lamp with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. Then, he stoops down and collects a handful of snow, packs it into a tight ball, and immediately hurls it at you with half-hearted effort. “Ow, what the fuck?” you groan aloud, flinching away to shield yourself as he does it a second time, stepping closer. He sighs, “Don’t even act like that hurt. I could’ve thrown it harder.” You know this voice, watching for confirmation as he shakes the icy snow from his bare hands and pats them on his jeans. The sharp jawline of none other than Oh Sehun cuts through the shadow, and he is wearing a frown when you finally see his face. He simply stares at you for a long moment before he gives up and his frown deepens, “Fuck it.” In jeans probably more expensive than what you make in an average shift, he sits down on the snow covered bench beside you, hissing at the cold and wet feeling that surely seeps into his skin. You say nothing in reply, still enjoying the tingling buzz of alcohol in your veins, and the bite of chill at the tip of your nose. It’s another five or ten minutes before Sehun pipes up, “Care to tell me how you’re feeling right now?” When you face him, he’s watching you with a mix of apprehension and tenderness. “I’m feeling a lot of things,” you say, sniffling. You elaborate with a kick of your feet through the fluff of snow on the ground, “I’m worried, and scared and happy and disbelieving, to name a few.” Sehun hums, narrowing his eyes and squaring his jaw, “Do you feel inferior or unworthy? Do you not see how much he loves you?” Your mouth twists thoughtfully, “I feel like someday I will stop being enough. Someday I will stop being what he needs and loves. It’s happened before, and Sehun I’m-“ you choke, swallowing around the lump, “I’m so irrevocably in love with him that I am terrified of what that moment will feel like.” “What if that moment never comes?” He watches your face without judgement, and you appreciate him all the more for it. Clearing your throat, “How can I know it never will? I just need time to work up the courage.” He nods, “That’s fair, I suppose. As long as you know he is so disgustingly in deep with you.” His mock discomforted teasing pulls a quiet smile from you, and with it, a yawn. “Come on, let’s get you home. He wanted to come find you himself, but I didn’t think you’d want to be overwhelmed right now.” He pushes against your shoulder, urging you up, “I’m freezing my ass off out here.” “Did you track my phone?” you wonder, complying as he takes your shoulders and dusts the snow from your coat with his hands. He nods, “Come on, I brought the car. Should still be pretty warm.” _______________________________________ The following two days go by in a blur, and the uncertainty you feel ebbs away from your bones wearily, too exhausted to hang on. You go about your routine, you have to in order to stay afloat. You wake, go to class, go to work, shower, maybe do some homework, and then fall into a barely stable state of unconsciousness for a few hours before you’re up to do it all over again. In the back of your busy mind, you wonder, almost without feeling, if this is the moment. If now is the time, so soon, that Junmyeon has decided he is bored or you’re not worth this kind of trouble. You chew your lip instead of the end of your pencil, letting it tap against your cheek repeatedly. What if he is heartbroken by your refusal to accept his confession in the moment because fear made you yank up your walls just as he said the words? What if he has decided to pull his own walls up higher than you’re able to reach. What if this is the end? What if this is just the beginning? What if what if what if, the phrase parades around your thoughts like a vicious merry-go-round. You hate it. On the table, facing down to not be a distraction, your phone buzzes gently. Luckily, the sound it creates on the wood surface doesn’t disturb the other library patrons attempting to study. Stretching your back and twisting your tired neck, you pull your coffee closer, taking a sip and reeling at the warmth of it in one hand while you check the notification with the other. It's your security camera app. A clip of video featuring one fluffy-haired Junmyeon entering your apartment with his key and dropping off a manilla envelope. He lingers briefly beside the kitchen counter, fingers playing with the string of the envelope before he lays it down gingerly. Something seems odd, as if he doesn’t want to leave. After a few seconds, he looks up to the camera, possibly as if he knows you’re watching, gives a tight-lipped smile, and leaves. It leaves a strange feeling in your gut, normally he texts you when he is dropping something off to you. Perhaps now, since the camera was his idea, he doesn’t need to. You’ll see it from your phone. You release your lip from your teeth, soothing your tongue over the deep indentations of your teeth. Looking around, the library suddenly feels like an empty cathedral instead of a cozy place of coffee and books. It is the middle of December. Not many students linger this late in the afternoon so close to the holidays. With a sigh, you accept that your spell of focus and studying is over. Dogearing the page, you pack your bag and head out into the wind and setting sun. You don’t have work this evening, but a bath and a glass of wine to yourself sound like the perfect combination to hope for a restful night’s sleep. Entering your apartment, you eye the envelope on the counter, right where your boyfriend left it. Part of you wants to open it immediately and sate your curiosity. Part of you is apprehensive. There is a weighted feeling of importance coming from such a mysterious package. Perhaps after your bath and wine, you’ll have a second glass at the counter while you open it. Perhaps the first glass will calm you and give you enough courage to face whatever is inside. Decidedly, you do just that. Your phone even coos your favorite instrumental playlist from the counter in the bathroom, deliberately out of your reach. The gentle notes of the piano relax you into the warm suds, breathing deeply while you swallow, cheeks full of a simple white zinfandel. The weight of the chilled goblet in your palm feels just as comforting as the cozy swirls of lavender around your nakedness. Wrapped up in your favorite pajamas and wine refilled, you hold your breath when you reach for the package, swiping it from the counter to open from the comfort of the couch. You set the wine glass on the coffee table with extra care, keying up your anticipation. Peering inside the envelope, a handful of smaller envelopes peer up at you from inside. Odd, you muse, curiously letting them slide from the manilla onto the coffee table. There are six pieces, each labeled with a number, otherwise appearing identical. You take the first in your hands, and open it after another sip of wine. Immediately, you’re met with the familiar sight of Junmyeon’s handwriting. Letters, your mind answers for you. These are all letters. Reading the addressee line, more specifically these are letters he has written to you. ‘Ah… where to begin,’ the first sentence reads. ‘Would you know what I mean if I talked about that feeling you have when you are in someone’s presence and it feels right? Except perhaps a little more? Knowing that in time, you will feel complete while with that someone, but it’s not right away? That feeling of looking forward to building a completeness in your life with that person. That feeling. I met someone last night who gave me that feeling. That feeling that I immediately knew I would be whole with her someday. At first, it was scary. Altogether so vexing and complex I couldn’t do anything other than feel totally stunned every time she came close. I felt terrible for my behavior in those first few minutes. The weight of the passage of time pressed against my ribcage the longer we sat at the table, the less of an unknown length to be spent in her presence was so jarring to me it took all of my resolve to pull it together and start a conversation with her. I’m not usually one who believes in the phrase ‘meant to be’, but I absolutely could not shake the feeling of this woman and the few simple words we shared. I liked everything about her. Beyond the physical, too. The expressions that passed over her face. The fire of her personality and the air of dignity and resolute calm that seemed to carve a home in her bones as she worked. Everything I could assess about her as a person from my seat at the table, I couldn’t look away. She seemed to understand there was some sort of cosmic interference between us. All of the moments where I knew for a fact she wasn’t watching me, the depth of her eyes would catch me in the act of watching her work. They would settle on me, and sometimes I would be overcome with the weightlessness of space, or what I imagine it would feel like. Vast and unending, and at peace. We played a sort of game when I realized, with a great complexity of emotion, she knew who I was. It was more than just my name, and that was not something I had anticipated. The way she spoke to me and looked at me, as if by no great feat, I were just myself. Nothing more, nothing less. Not an idol, but a person. I briefly wondered if I knew her from childhood, but could not gather any substantial evidence in my memory. I did something that I’ve never done in my lifetime. Of my own volition, even. The thought of separating from her without knowing if I would ever see her again was something that I couldn’t accept. As if burned or suffocating. The feeling that causes you to move without thinking to escape discomfort. I invited her to the hotel we were staying in while our dorms were being moved. Normally, I might consider that a ridiculous notion, one I didn’t think I would ever hold myself to entertain while in this industry. And yet… regardless of our intentions if the answer were yes, I needed to know if there was a mutual itch to scratch, only sated by one another. Even without the recollection of her presence still so fresh in my mind, my skin, my bones, I think I could remember with perfect clarity how much she was able to move me. To feel as if I could move mountains with my bare hands as long as she kept looking at me. It's terrifying, and elating. She fell asleep easily, tucked adorably against my side. I hardly slept, too wound up with thoughts racing across the sky in my mind, seeking constellations to tell stories foretold about she and I. Hoping for more minutes with her. Hoping that minutes would turn into hours, to days, to years… To a lifetime. I fell asleep, my mind too exhausted to continue coherent thought. When I woke, she was nowhere to be found. I couldn’t be sure why. Whether it be her own schedule or that we hadn’t detailed what exactly our coupling was supposed to be. All I know was what I am feeling. Sadness, disappointment, even slight shame. Not that what we had done was wrong, but that I couldn’t hold on hard enough to keep her here. I have no way of contacting her, and without knowing her thoughts, I refuse to be the kind of man who shows up where she works. Perhaps she doesn’t want to see me again. I will go about my routines, wondering whether or not I’d hurt her, whether or not she felt regret. I will spend however long it takes, wondering if I might ever see her again, and feeling a hollowness in my chest I hadn’t know was there all along before I felt her filling that void so perfectly.’ You don’t realize at first that you’re crying by the end of the letter. Tears quietly slip from your eyes, and your hands tremble just enough to make the paper move noticeably, the bottom of it smattered with a few wet drops. Clutching the page to your chest, you let your head roll back and your lungs inhale a deep breath. Your heart hurts for him, nearly a year ago as these words he has written make themselves known to you. His thoughts and feelings that first night you met last December. You ignore the question of why he wrote these letters but know exactly the reason why he has given them to you. It feels too easy, too surreal that he knew someday you would question, and he kept these as an investment. Proof of his truth. Pain aches bitterly in your chest at how you pushed him out a few days ago. At how deeply and complexly he knew right from the start how much you mean to him. You empty your wine glass in a series of greedy swallows, needing your empty goblet as an excuse to stand up and breathe for a moment. Wiping your eyes, you have an idea and know just where to put these letters. From the top shelf of your closet, you pull down a small box, running your palm over the black leather with a smile as you place it on the coffee table. You move to the kitchen, returning to the couch seconds later with the half-empty wine bottle. You open the box and a small smile touches your features when you see the items inside. Not many, yet, but small tokens of memories and affection shared between you and Junmyeon. The tickets to the museum back in September, four polaroid photos taken on his camera in his room during a visit. The card he wrote you back in October, along with the bloom of a flower from the same day pressed between it. Obscurely and without his knowledge, a balled-up piece of paper with lyrics he wrote for his solo album on. Somehow, he deemed them unworthy, but you love the authenticity of them and his handwriting. You smile, letting your hand stir a few of the pieces before you set the lid back on it, deciding these letters will join the contents of the box when you’re finished. After pouring yourself another glass and carefully folding the first letter back into its packaging, you open the second. ‘Now it’s April, and somehow, on an errant walk with the peace of my own thoughts, I found you again. At first I hadn’t been sure it was you, or that my eyes were not playing tricks on me. After several minutes of short-circuiting, I was sure it was you on that bench. I hate to sound overly poetic, but you were too picturesque, as if the sun and all of the spring had been placed there just for you. As if you commanded the very season to flourish around your perpetuating serenity. Part of me was torn, not wanting to disturb the scene. The greater part was unwavering in my desire to approach you, if not just to have your eyes find mine briefly. I am too selfish to let you go this time, unless you explicitly demand it. Still, I had to steel myself, apprehensive of your intentions that morning. Luckily, your warmth toward me didn’t waver, and while I wanted to ask outright the questions that so often plagued my mind lately, I refrained. I couldn’t let the joy of the moment be ruined by bitterness. Your stomach growled, and I remember the comfort of falling into step beside you naturally as we walked. The colors of the season are more vivid in my head, and the sharp contrast of your red dress to the green everywhere did nothing but serve as an excuse for me to look only at you. While the food was worth the price, my stomach churned uncomfortably with the questions I needed answers to. The same questions I felt coming from you, and the confusion and hurt and desire. When you finally told me it was not a good idea, I felt my heart crack. Looking back, I wasn’t pleased with myself when I hissed out my reply. The pain was too momentous to control. That was the turning point. The conversations that followed as we went out onto the street. It dawned on me then, that with my own anxiety and shortcomings, you had your own self-doubts. You made it clear that you saw me as the stars, and yourself little more than a spectator of them, out of reach. I realized in that moment how similar we are, and an overwhelming need to know more about you passed through me. I am always thankful and comforted when I think back on that conversation. The relief I felt when you told me you didn’t regret it and that you wanted me as badly as I wanted you. Still want you, for the record. You defended me from even myself so vehemently, all while fighting the idea of indulging in the moment. Not just for your own benefit, but mine, too. It was clear how much you worried over thoughts for the future, and the consideration of my feelings and your own thereafter. I’m very thankful, but I’m sure that must be exhausting. I desperately want you in my life, no matter how busy that is, and I am holding my breath in hope that you’ll want me in yours just the same. The sex… by far, has always been indescribably real. Connecting with you in such a fashion, well, I won’t touch on it, because that isn’t what this is about. Even though I can count our meetings on one hand, this one is my favorite, so far. Not just because of the sex, but the conversation, and the connection I felt with you through all of the planes of existence. I won’t lie, it was insurmountably frightening the moment you looked at me in the shower. More than my face, or my eyes. It took you one second to permeate the deepest center of my heart, and I could feel the warmth and safety of your soul holding mine. Oh my god, I am so cheesy. We shared tender thoughts, and with them, pain and suffering. I like to think it was necessary in order to move forward, and I find myself wanting to grow more and more with you. Slowly, if you accept that. I don’t want to rush into things, and I want to understand you better. I want to do this right. Even in the small, intimate moments while we ate dinner and just laid together, were blissful. I found myself unable to conjure any worries about problems I face, and even the physical manifestation of my anxiety… with you I had no sudden urge to run away and hide it. I had no feeling other than pure acceptance knowing that you were seeing a flaw of mine. You rolled with it, completely and utterly acknowledging of my existence as a person and not just an idol. Perhaps that is why I feel so strongly so soon, and why I am so cognizant of it, rather than terrified as I should be. When I woke the next morning with your scent and your warmth still beside me, I was happier than I anticipated I would be? That sounds so peculiar, I know, but I was- even with the chaos that soon unraveled thereafter. Still, wrapped up in new feelings and rushing to meet a schedule, I scolded myself when I left you standing in the elevator lobby without any way to stay in contact. If there are and powers or fates in this life, I am wishing for them to bring us together again. One way or another, I will find you again.’ Immediately, with as much delicacy as you can muster in your need to keep reading, you fold the pages of the second letter back into it’s envelope with a smile on your face. Reading Junmyeon’s thoughts on your meetings was not what you had expected this package to be. It is a wonderful gift, and one you now know he did for you, even all of those months ago. The third letter is on a different kind of paper and the ink is blue instead of black, but the differences only make you smile at the possibility that he was still thinking of writing this for you when he might have been somewhere else in the world. ‘Even at thirty-eight thousand feet, I am still thinking of you.’ Reads the first line, and you smile knowing your intuition was spot on. ‘I’m thinking of the third time I saw you. Standing still on the dance floor, with brows furrowed cutely and looking around for something. Until you quickly looked up at me, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks when you smiled. The way you jumped as if I had shocked you, I felt it too. All night it drove me crazy the way I could feel this tether to you. Even in a space full of others, at the club, in the car, at the karaoke room- there was a strange sense of presence. As if I could see and hear everyone, even participated in conversations, but from underwater? Suddenly I noticed that perhaps that is how my life has been all along, but the moment we would touch would be as if everything around were in such perfect clarity it felt like I was there for the first time. I know that sounds crazy. It drove me crazy, but I gave you whatever emotion space you wanted. I didn’t push what we were, didn’t try to pressure you into acknowledging the tension between us as more than sexual compatibility. Then, in the darkness of that awful karaoke bar, I broke. I knew Jongdae wasn’t a threat- he has a girlfriend. I knew everything was fine but found myself exiting the room to look for you anyway. Then, you provoked me and I can’t help but wonder if you wanted me to be the aggressor all along. If you wanted me to be the one to break first and make a claim. I’m not upset about it, really. It worked out in the end, right? Still, the thought of you being with someone else the way you’ve been with me is very painful. Luckily, I was and still am confident in what we have. That it is profound. The moment you spilled the truth I felt high. Not like a drug high but untouchable nonetheless. Powerfully, cosmically existent in that moment, and all I could do was kiss you. I knew it didn’t mean we had jumped from point A to point Z, but A to B was still progress forward. I can’t help but smile when I remember the cute, embarrassed way you tried to explain that to Jongin later on. Take no mind- I am not looking to rush into a relationship. I am happy with small steps, and to finally have your contact information.’ You’re smiling and laughing by the end of this letter. You feel a little bit better, and a whole lot more in love with the man who wrote these. Part of you in a little sad at how short this third one is, but he has spoiled you, and you consider his schedule and lack of privacy in writing these. Quickly, with the woeful glee of having to put down the best book of all time, you rush to relieve your bladder of the wine you’ve consumed this evening. A very small wedge of your consciousness notes the way your mood has shifted for the better at this simple and thoughtful gift. At the confirmations of his feelings and his thoughts that you’ve spent months trying to guess. You realize that perhaps you were not communicating as openly as you thought you were. A lot of guessing and assuming about one another over the last year makes you feel a little bit silly, but you smile nonetheless at the progress and growth you’ve done. Situated back on the couch comfortably, you fold the third letter back into it’s envelope with a contented hum, replacing it in your hands with the fourth. This one feels heavier and thicker, with more pages. ‘You are my girlfriend now, as I write this letter.’ He starts, and you can clearly conjure the image of a grin that would be warming his cheeks as he wrote that line. ‘Progress, and good progress at that, feels very fulfilling. Although my schedules keep me from seeing you as often as I would like, I feel satisfied with being able to contact you regularly while I go about my business. The weeks we have spent getting to know one another, talking and texting and video chatting have been nothing short of a blessing. It makes me realize how much people, myself included, can take this kind of simple connection for granted. I spent some weeks without a way to contact you, so I do my best to be more thankful for it now. In the last few weeks, it has felt like war with ourselves and what we could be, and I sincerely apologize if I ever seemed frustrated at you- I am not, and never was. You have always been right to be cautious and you are so considerate of my feelings and then your own, even if the consideration isn’t a good one. It doesn’t matter now, and I can’t say I am regretful that we spent time weighing those things out. It may seem silly or superstitious but I feel like our relationship is deeper and we have a better understanding of what we are to one another now that we have been through that together. Had we rushed into it without more concern, I might be wary of how strong we are. I was embarrassed when I called to tell you about the incident with the interviewer in the States. There was a lot happening and I was not sure on what was going to come of us yet. I was very surprised by how strong the repulsion to lie about us felt, and I failed to keep it off of my face and out of my professional life. Looking back, especially after calling you, I am sorry if it caused you any panic. I had a long discussion with the managers and Mr. Lee when I got back, but it was after I had talked to Jongdae on the plane about it, and he gave me a lot of good advice on how to deal with it publicly. Please do not misunderstand or have doubts about what I told you- I was never pressured or given an ultimatum about you. I told them that being with or without you was not negotiable before it even began. Typically, I am not the one to speak up in such a momentous conversation, but I have only ever been so sure about something twice in my life. First, about being a singer, and second, about being with you. In the end, I was told it would only be a problem if the behavior continued. Eventually, we would have to go public, but I am free to keep my private life as such so long as I can maintain my idol publicity separately. Still, I needed some space from the familiarity and constant reminder of stress. I left, without telling anyone where I was going or for how long, to blow off steam. The shock was pleasant when you told me you were accepting of a relationship. I was happy and thought perhaps you had talked about it to Soohyun, the same way I talk to Sehun. Those two are ridiculous. It helped melt the stress I’d been feeling with work. My feet carried me to your apartment anyway, now that I knew how to get there. Even if I wanted to refrain or resist, I knew you, in any form, would be the balm of relief I needed. I was prepared to hold you and talk and just let your presence ease away the anxiety. The last thing I was expecting was the gift of news you wanted more. I had been back and forth with it in my own head, whether or not I should have even told you. Since the beginning of our perpetual theories concerning the start of a relationship, I knew there was something you were not telling me. Don’t take it the wrong way- I don’t hold it against you, and I don’t expect you to tell me everything right away. Earning enough trust and comfort with me to tell me when you’re ready is enough. That is not the reason I didn’t want to say anything at first. More that you seemed… tense or stressed about your own internal deliberating. I’ve seen first-hand, you’re the type to put others before yourself, so I didn’t want to burden you with that. It felt like taking advantage of you to do so. Then, with the simple confession of wanting this, of wanting me, and wanting me with you, it changed. I trusted you enough to let you in. You wanted to help me, and I am incredibly grateful. You’ve always wanted to help me, and I would be a blind fool if I ever considered that were not a priority for you, even from day one. By the end of the conversation, I felt more connected with you than I ever had before. I’m certain, at least in some sense, that was a bonus in the way you helped me relieve that stress. The way you took care of me, so to speak. Even the sex that followed seemed to have more weight or meaning. That it was more than just sex? When we settled into your bed I had a moment of realization that it was the first night I was sleeping in your bed with you, and that we were in a relationship. I was so exhausted, but I tried my best to remember every detail of your space. Although the way I woke up wasn’t that pleasant, I slept the best I had in weeks. I think I owe that to you. What happened thereafter, I know we’ve talked about it at length and that you’re okay, but I feel like part of your love language are words of affirmation. With that in mind, I will say again that you will never have to be sorry for struggling. I understand, at least to some extent, what you’ve been through. It makes my heart ache to know you’ve been through a similar pain to mine and the perpetual, vicious cycle of hate and doubt and fear within your own head. When I think about it, you amaze me. Having been through that, and perhaps to people outside of you and I, you might appear mysterious or standoffish. Sehun’s words, not mine, but only at first I assure you. I realize it is how you greet the unknown parts of the world, to protect yourself. But then to get to know the caring and tender way you hold those close to you. Be it myself, Soohyun or even now Sehun and the rest of my members. The way you talk about memories of your Father. It fills me with such relief and that feels selfish and wrong. To be thankful that even after all you’ve been through, and to understand it so completely, that you still love. I understand it so well how you’ve guarded yourself and it takes work to peel back the walls layer by layer to let someone else care about you the way you care about your people. I will never push you, but please, please know I am working as hard as I can to gently peel back those layers and to earn enough trust to let me love you the way you deserve, even if you might not think you do. I know that there will be days where you look at the world as if everything is hateful and ugly, and I understand that I might not be able to help you. I really do, but I will never judge you for that. I will encourage you to continue with therapy and taking your medication and to love the world and to let it love you back. Hopefully, one by one, those instances of hate are less and less, replaced by better ones. I will protect you with everything I have and I am scared, too. Afraid that one day when the glimmer of idol life dies and I’m not in the spotlight, that everyone who has ever looked at me with adoration will turn away. That the name Junmyeon will never shine the way Suho does. I know I am not perfect. I never have been and I never will be, and that’s okay. It took me a long time to get through that, with therapy and my own medication. There was a lot of unhappiness and innate anxiety in understanding that when I am retired and finished, I will not be alone. That there will be other people, eight specifically, going through the same thing, right there beside me. Hopefully you will be, too. I remember the bliss of the rest of that morning. The pure, natural contempt to be in your apartment with you, such a place that has you so deeply instilled in every piece I never wanted to leave the safety of it.’ You feel a lump, but don’t let the tears fall from this letter. Looking back on Junmyeon’s last words to you, you wonder if somewhere within this letter is the time he first decided he loved you. He didn’t explicitly write it, but the way he wrote it gives you a sense that it was somewhere in these words. The fifth letter begins with the echo of a phrase you remember hearing him say the first time you woke up with him in his bed. ‘I’m happy. More specifically, I am happy with you. As worried as I was about having you over to the dorm for anything at all, I am pleased how much you fit into that space with grace and ease. Looking back, my worries were baseless. Every challenge I think you’re facing with me and my schedules and my members, you accept them and seem to move through them all without issue. It's relieving to be able to let you share even this part of myself. I know it has been something we’ve been back and forth on since we met, but I had been scared of the idea of sharing a part of Suho for once, instead of Junmyeon. Not that I doubted you- simply that I was uncomfortable, and not ready. With a sudden clarity it makes perfect sense why you were not keen on me being in your space, either. I’m happy we’ve moved past those fears. All of my members accept you, if you couldn’t tell. I have to take care of them, too. I couldn’t be selfish in inviting you into a home that is not only mine without considering their opinions. Even the members that weren’t present were on board with my invitation and happy for us to be where we are. Somewhere in this last week, I think I realized I love you. I’m not sure when, but somewhere between finally going to your apartment and today, I know it. I’m making a promise to both you and myself that I will tell you in person for the first time. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us if it is any other way first, and I know you enough now to be sure I’ll probably be the one who says it first. I don’t even know if I’ll ever give you these letters, or when really they became less of a journal and more of a letter of confession. You can probably tell by the well-worn pages that I’ve read these several times by now. You might laugh if I ever tell you how many times I re-wrote them, too. Y/N, my sweetheart, I can’t even begin to describe how fond I am of you. Please tell me if I ever become overbearing or suffocating in my love for you. Were it not for the reprimanding I’d get, or the fact that we would have to go public (something I never want to put you through), I would shout it from the rooftop and scream it during every ending comment I make, on every stage in every part of the world.’ The fifth letter might be short, but it is sweet and you feel a bigger pang of guilt at having pushed him out knowing how much he loves you, now more than ever. You desperately want to call him. To have him back here in your arms and to tell him you’re sorry and confirm exactly how he feels is the same. Instead, you tell yourself to calm down, and read the last letter. It’s getting later, but you know he will still be awake when you’re finished and there is absolutely no way in hell you’ll be able to sleep without him tonight. So you quell your racing heart with a simple text. It doesn’t give anything away, and you hope you won’t have to wait long after you finish reading the last for him to show up at your door. ‘Please come over.’ You can’t hit send fast enough, and settle right in to reading the final letter. ‘This letter is a little different, because I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to write individual ones. I’m doing my best to remember the last few months with you and all of the memories we’ve made. I worry I’ll forget them if I don’t write them down soon enough, and I don’t know when these will ever make their way to you. I’ll give you all of the ones I’ve written so far once I think you’re ready to read them. I have a feeling a day will come when I tell you how I feel, and you’ll hide. I won’t be upset with you or judge you, I know it’s terrifying, and I think having these letters will be helpful. Perhaps once you see how well-worn some are, and how clearly I’m recalling the moments, you’ll know I’ve written them all with you in mind. How I am always thinking of you. How I love you. For weeks it has been hard not to tell you how I feel every time I open my mouth in your presence. Some moments smaller or bigger than others, but none any less meaningful than the one before it. I think my favorite, of all the adventures we’ve had over the summer, is dinner. The way you described summer and the magic of it- I don’t think you realized how much of that magic came from you. As if your smile were the spell that kept the world from falling asunder. Maybe it was because it was so close to the moment I first realized my feelings for you, only a week later, but it doesn’t matter. I enjoyed the museum a lot, too. More than a typical museum, the fun that we shared, even when things went a little sideways was still full of care and laughter. I don’t know if you could feel the culmination of my feelings brimming over in the rain later that day, or in the way I held you as if you were the world. I hope you felt it. Sometimes I was nervous when I would reach home with my bag and realize there was something else I left back at your place. Not that I minded, but I didn’t want you to feel like I did it intentionally or that I was invading your space. In hindsight it seems to have been perfectly natural, and I remember how shy you were to give me a key to your apartment. That surprising gift was unexpected, but one I keep close. I don’t know how many times I’ve thanked you for letting me have one and letting me be there whenever I want to. I hope you don’t mind if I thank you once more, honestly. You may not know this, but more than just for spending time with you- it is a safe place for me. It’s somewhere I can go and don’t have to hide and I can get away from the members and the constant reminder of the never-ending chaos of idolism. I can sleep and it is silent and if I’m lucky, you eventually appear beside me and I sleep better than I ever do at home. I can remember your fear leading up to Halloween about meeting other people at the company and being in the presence of new people as my girlfriend. I can also remember the taste of you right before that party, but I don’t want to have any… issues, while I’m writing this in the dance studio, so I won’t write about it. We’re working on choreography for some of the new tracks and brushing up on old favorites today. It’s never been a question I thought to ask you, but I’m curious what song is your favorite. I have a feeling, knowing the way you react to me as my alter ego, if Obsession is the answer. Things are going well with promotions. Perhaps I’ve complained a little too loudly about not getting to see you as often to our staff, but I was so shocked when you showed up to our stage yesterday! It was very thoughtful of them to invite you, and I was impressed none of the members got wind of it. What happened thereafter backstage… I hope you understand how much you mean to me and that I never wanted to pressure you like that. We were pushing boundaries all over the place, and while I was admittedly nervous at first to engage in sexual play with you while in that role, I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. I did it for you. It was all about you, and I can’t help but feel like I overstepped and perhaps instilled some doubts about us in you. Please know that was never my intention and I just as connected with you as I always do. I was, and still am thrilled to know you only want me. We both know I can be a bit jealous and possessive, so hearing that was delightful. However, I meant what I said- if it is mutual, I’m okay with it. Healthy, even, to have a little bit of adventure. Please don’t feel guilty about it, it kept me excited too. It’s good for us to talk about all kinds of things, even hard to swallow topics. I’m proud to be able to communicate openly with you, and I think it makes us stronger.’ You sigh, sad to see an end to his thoughts on paper, but feeling a sense of relief at his sentiments about your latest shenanigans, just days ago. Checking your phone, it appears that Junmyeon has read your message, but not responded yet, and you worry if he will or if he is upset. No, that can’t be right. Exactly as his letter has said, he knew a time would come that you would need to have some sort of evidence of his love when he finally told you. This is precisely what you needed him to say, and that he could already tell, even those months ago, that you might need this kind of investment to understand the truth is another piece of his love on its own. This collection of his feelings is so warm and whole that it brings more tears to the brim of your eyes, and you’re faced with the absolute truth that there’s no way he is upset with you. He was strategically waiting for you to return his feelings and the idea that you shoved him out makes the tears fall. You’re surprised to hear when the door opens and closes behind you, and when you turn around to face him, knowing it is him, he only gives you a dazzling smile as he slips off his shoes. Your boyfriend. Your Junmyeon, the one who, as crazy as that may seem, loves you as much as you love him. Gingerly, you set the last letter down, noticing it is still clutched in your fingers. “Hi, sweetheart.” He greets you from the entry. Marveling at him, you’re not convinced he is even real and standing here in your home looking like everything you’ve ever wanted and everything you’ll ever need. He grins, with the apples of his cheeks dusted rose from the cold sitting high and warm on his face. His eyes crinkle with mirth and he whispers, “That good, huh? No words?” You want to punch him for it, but perhaps softly, with your mouth. It doesn’t register for several seconds that you’ve been holding your breath, until you let it out and drag in fresh oxygen. It's enough to spur you into action, bounding from the couch and into his arms, uncaring if your tears stain his scarf. He doesn’t seem to mind, either, by the way he adjust so your arms wrap around him from inside of his unzipped coat. “Are you alright now?” he wonders aloud, not exactly looking for an answer but curiously chirping nonetheless because he wants the verbal confirmation that you are in fact, just fine. When you look up at him from the warmth of his sweatshirt and scarf with eyes full of magic, he is lost and in love all over again, until finally you say what he knows. “I love you.” You announce proudly to him, and the immediate gratification you feel melts any tension from your shoulders. His expression morphs into unbridled happiness, curling his lips into his mouth and scrunching his brows together as if the words were the sweetest thing he has ever heard. “Say it again,” he demands, “I’m selfish and I want to hear you say it again.” You smile, “I love you, Junmyeon.” He absolutely giggles. The pure glee that captures him as you step back with barely concealed impatience while shrugs off his coat and scarf is infectious, or maybe it’s the light and joyous sound of his laughter. In seconds he has scooped you into his arms and kisses you. You can feel his heart pounding right out of his chest where you’re pressed against it. When he breaks for air, he asks you, “Did you like them?” Setting you down on the couch, you refuse to part from him when he gets comfortable, crawling back into his lap and holding his face in your hands. Just to look at him and make sure he is actually here, you let the warmth of your hands flood his skin and he smiles up at you as if you the only thing in the universe worth looking at. There’s no rush to make it more than what it is, and you realize you haven’t answered his question. “I am beyond words to explain how much they mean to me.” You look behind you briefly to see them on the coffee table. “And,” you begin, moving some of his hair from his eyes, “I am so sorry.” His brows furrow together immediately, trying to hush your apology, but you press a finger to his lips before he can do more than groan in disapproval. “I mean it, let me apologize,” you coax. Only when he has settled do you remove your finger from his lips, tickled by his constant puckering to hiss it. “It took me reading these letters to finally learn that all this time you’ve done nothing but look out for me. You have always been there for me, taking all of my doubts in stride with a calm confidence I sometimes took as shallow or lukewarm feelings, and for that I am so sorry.” “In these letters you’ve told me about your own anxieties and fears, and I want to assure you the way you’ve always done for me by saying I will never turn away from you.” You hold his face again, gently cupping his cheeks and smiling sadly at the cute way his cheeks squish his face, “Ever.” You kiss his puckered lips and continue, “I am sorry I ever doubted you, even if you tell me I don’t need to be. It doesn’t feel fair that while I had all of these issues, you were there with nothing but faith, proclaiming with a profound clarity that we would both make it out on the other side, even if I couldn’t see it.” “Stop it,” he fusses gently. “No,” you poke the end of his nose and continue, “So I want you to know how sorry I am and that I promise you when I say I am in love with you- I mean it.” He smiles, “Can I talk now?” Grinning in return, you nod. “I didn’t write those letters to make you feel bad about yourself for having doubts or fears. It’s normal, and I didn’t always have just blind faith. I had my own doubts about how much you felt our connection and how deep your feelings for me were.” He rewards your silent attention with a quick, chaste kiss. “The answer is probably not, but do you know how protective your head is of your heart?” His hand rises to prod at your forehead gently. He explains further, “All of the defense it has created to keep you safe so you don’t get hurt again is not a bad thing. I just had to be patient, steady and sure about my feelings towards you. I knew you would figure it out.” “Looking back over the last year at the progress we’ve made, at least to me, has really made us stronger. Look at how far we’ve come, Y/N. Not just as individuals, but together. I don’t know if it looks the same as mine, but I imagine the colors of your world feel a lot richer with me in them, right?” He looks at your eyes for confirmation, and you nod, “It’s the same for me, too. You make me a better person, and I love you. The good and the bad and the sad and that’s okay. Relationships don’t have to be just good stuff all of the time. There is so much more complexity involved, but we’re supposed to be in it together.” “I know that now.” You affirm, laying your head on his shoulder and snuggling further into him. “Good.” He whispers, kissing your forehead. Already, you want to reread the letters. After a few silent moments pass between you listening to the sound of quiet happiness, you lift your head from his neck to look at him. “Can I tell you something?” you wonder aloud, letting your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He looks up at you and hums, “You’re going to tell me anyway, aren’t you?” It pulls a smile to your lips as you nod, ensuring you have his full attention. Remembering the contents of the letters, you have to tease him as you admit, “My god you’re cheesy!” You’re now sure the sound of your mutual laughter is one of your favorites. It takes a minute for both of you to quell, settling into a pile of happiness. Once more, for good measure, you feel the urge to tell him again. Taking his cheeks in your hands again, you dip your head until your forehead rests on his and a kiss is granted to his lips. “I love you.” End.

#allotrope #junmyeon x reader #suho x reader #junmyeon smut #suho smut #exo fanfiction #exo smut #junmyeon angst #suho angst #junmyeon fluff #suho fluff #exo angst #exo fluff #exo x reader #junmyeon fanfic #suho fanfic #exo fanfic #junmyeon x you #suho x you

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evermorehaikyuu · 4 years ago

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Day 27

Title: Accident

Note: I realized I’ve done accidents in this month more than once and usually they’ve all died, but not in this case. This is deathless, and perhaps if I was a good writer, it’d hurt more. N e ways, enjoy the angst. (Lowkey wanna make a part 2 and make it fluffy, hmmm maybe, after a whole month of angst, fluff is well deserved)

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

Konoha Akinori was a man of many talents. He was also someone that did not let his heart be broken easily. Heartbreak, though, was something that almost no one could stop, unless they had no emotions whatsoever. But the love in his eyes when he looked at Y/N was unmistakable. He’d do anything for her, he was absolutely whipped for her. Every single day he’d make sure that she was okay and if she needed space, he gave her space.

He was basically everything anyone could ever ask for. Now the question is where did everything go wrong?

Maybe both of them were bound to blow up. Or actually one of them and Konoha was in the way. It hurt him, it did, it hurt him to see Y/N in this way, but what hurt him more was seeing Y/N explode on him. She had tried all day not to say anything, but it seemed as if the sight of him was the trigger.

“Hey, Y/N--” Konoha started, startled when Y/N whipped around to face him, a dark shadow looming on her face. She shook her head and turned back around, not saying anything to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she grunted, trying not to get mad at him for no reason. He hadn’t done anything and she’d be ungrateful if she said something rude to him. How long could she keep the mask on though?

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing when you’re not even looking at me in the eye.” Konoha said gently, striding over to her to take her hands. “Talk to me.”

Ripping her hands out of his, she glared up at him. “There’s nothing for me to say, I’m fine.”

“Y/N--”

“No! I don’t want to say anything more so just respect my wishes! Don’t stay any closer to me, I just want to be alone.” Y/N exclaimed before biting her lip. Konoha was there to help her out and she was pushing him away, even though he was trying his hardest to be a good boyfriend. It failed because she wouldn’t let him.

“Y/N, why do we always end up like this?” Konoha asked impatiently. He was done, he tried his best to help but was sick of being pushed away every single time. “I keep trying to help you, but you never let me. Even if I do something, you’ll still look at me like I’m not your main character, like I’m someone that you don’t even know?”

“Konoha. Just. Go.”

“So that’s it? You basically don’t care for me even though I’ve told you hundreds of times how much I love you.” Konoha hugged himself, staring at the floor before looking at the back of her head. “And every time...every time, you’ve never said it. Not once. And you don’t feel anything?” Konoha sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. I’m not saying anything more, but I really do love you. I hope you finally realize that someday.”

At hearing the door shut, Y/N bit her lip, regretting everything. He had tried everything in his power to stay with her, even though she was hard to get through. Maybe she would go after him, maybe not. Instead, she stayed alone in the room, hugging herself. However, she would regret pushing him away for the next three years.

She looked at her phone and saw at least 65 calls and over 100 messages from the Fukurodani team. The one she noticed was from Sarukui and she clapped her hand over her mouth at the sight.

Konoha was run over by a car. He’s at the hospital and unconscious.

Racing to put on something presentable and giving up and just grabbing his hoodie, she grabbed her keys and sprinted out of her house. Public transportation was awful, she was practically bouncing up and down in place, desperate to get to him for any sign that he was going to make it out alive.

The moments she had alone with herself on the train were the ones that attacked her like bullets. What if he had lived? What if she didn’t push him away? What if both of them were at her house and doing something? Now she wouldn’t know because she had done something despicable and because of her, he may not come back alive.

The hospital was full of white walls, yet the atmosphere was filled with trepid anticipation. The antiseptic made her dizzy, she knew that the smell of it would linger in her nostrils long after she was gone. What she didn’t know was that the aroma would also haunt her in her nightmares for the next few years.

Once getting the room where Konoha was in, she started shaking as she got on the elevator. Thirteenth floor. The superstition made her feel worse about his fate. The guilt that came along with it was agonizing. The doctors did not let her inside, even though she pleaded multiple times to be able to go inside. Nothing.

So that’s what it felt like when she pushed Konoha away.

“Please just let me go inside and see him, I need to see him!” She screamed, her nails raking down a guard’s chest. “LET ME SEE KONOHA!”

The nurse said gently, “Please, miss, wait and you will be the first one to know of his results. Let us do what we have to do and if necessary for him to go into surgery, we will let you know.”

Oh, how much pain would she have to suffer next? It felt like everything was laughing at her. He did not have to go into surgery but the doctors were murmuring to each other and some of them even stole glances at her through the window.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick.

And then it was over. The doctors came out of the room and she tried to look at Konoha. One of the doctors allowed her to see through the window and she pressed her hands against the glass, peering at him through the thick glass.

Konoha was there, his eyes closed and his mouth also shut. She wished to push back the stray bangs on his face, knowing that he would always wake up whenever she did it then go back to sleep. He didn’t move, nothing. Not even a little twitch. But somehow, there was the tiniest smile on his face. It was very small and it gave her hope that he would make it out alive, make a silly pick up line and hop out of bed. There was a catch to all of this, however, and she knew it.

“Konoha….” Y/N said, gulping. “How is he?”

“He’s in a coma.”

There it was.

For the next three years, Y/N came back to Konoha’s side in his room, taking his hand. No sign of him moving at all. She always pushed his hair back, stroking it slowly while whispering small things to him. Sometimes she’d talk about stuff that she had done that day and other times, she’d walk in and stare at him for hours at a time.

The second year, on a Saturday, she came back and started singing something to him that only both of them knew. It was a song Konoha had made up on a whim and she had added to it, it was their song. Only they knew it and they used to sing it to each other when the other couldn’t sleep.

It went like that for the next year and a half and there was no end in sight. Y/N held his hand close to her heart and sucked in a breath. “Hey….today was our--” She swallowed. “My graduation. I wish you were there. Komi, Bokuto, Sarukui and Washio were there and so was Akaashi. Konoha...Akinori….” A sob rose out of her and she placed her forehead on his chest, barely hearing his heart.

The doctors always made sure he was still alive but the fact that he never woke up, that his hand never made its way to her hair hurt more than anything.

Then suddenly, she was called by the hospital. Four words. The four words that brought her hopes up, drop everything and make her way to the hospital, a giddy smile on her face.

Konoha is waking up.

She raced from her job, her heart racing. Three long years without him, three years just sitting at his bedside and singing softly to him, three years going everywhere and worrying about Konoha.

Three years of being alone.

Konoha is waking up.

He’s going to be okay.

Once she got to the hospital, she sprinted past the receptionist’s desk and went up to his room, already memorizing the map of the hospital and his room. Pushing the door open, there was only one doctor there and he looked up at her with a grimace, wincing. “Miss--”

“Akinori?” Y/N ran to Konoha’s side, pushing his hair back as his eyelids slowly opened and his hand started twitching. At a snail’s pace, his eyelids opened fully and his head lolled, looking at her with blank eyes. Her heart sped up as she reached down for his limp hand and staring into his eyes. “Hey...look at me...you’re awake, Akinori, you’re finally--”

“Who are you?” He asked, genuine confusion on his face.

Y/N stared at him for a moment before looking at the doctor with concern. “Doctor? What--?”

“I’m sorry. He’s lost all of his memories except for his name.”

Y/N let go of Konoha’s hand, breathing heavily before she started hyperventilating. She only looked back at Konoha, who was gazing at her curiously, before going into his bathroom and screaming, loud sobs coming out of her as she gripped her hair. The words kept bouncing around her mind, driving her insane.

All those years together. All the love she had for him. The last words she had ever told him. Everything.

Everything was gone.

Because of her.

Taglist: @skyguy-peach @jovialnoise @versatilewindow @tsukiibaka @jaegersblogh @kodzuken-pie @kara-grayson04 @attixca @volleybloop @seiijixcia @sunareii @osterfield-hollandwriter @selca11 @his0kasbungeegum @holaaaf @tired-penguinn

#angstember #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #konoha x reader #konoha x y/n #konoha x you #konoha imagines #konoha angst #konoha akinori x reader #konoha akinori x y/n #konoha akinori x you #konoha akinori angst #konoha akinori imagines

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melancholydreadfuldream · 5 years ago

Text

dream of the sky’s still blue

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 11th Doctor x Reader, 12th Doctor x Reader, 13th Doctor x Reader

Summary: Companion chosen by the Doctor are always special in their own way but you, you are just a tag-along, courtesy of Clara. Maybe that’s why it was easy for him to hurt and abandon you.

Warning: ooc, angst, insecurity, self-harm, depression, madness, suicidal, DW AU mess-up, etc

A/N: The timeline of adventures on this fic will be switch around hence the warning of AU. I also bullshitting my way with this fanfiction so this will contain plot hole. I hope you enjoy reading it nonetheless. Please like/comment if you like this fic?

What is it about love that make people do irrational thing? I had to go and fall in love with an alien and one who is so out of my league too. He's a silly man most of the times but also, he's the smartest man alive. He's kind and amazing. His name is the Doctor. It wasn't his real name but he said it's the only name that matter. Until Clara and I met River Song, the Doctor's wife, at least her ghost data...? Whatever that means...

River saved us when an enemy of the Doctor attacked us, demanding the Doctor to tell them his true name in order to open the Doctor's grave. She knew his true name. Why am I surprised? If anyone know, it would be his wife.

Clara and I were best friend since childhood. She was the only friend I have actually. I was invisible as a child and Clara saw me and made me her friend. Over the years, of course, she has got better friends, but to her, I will always be her best friend. She never left me behind.

I met the Doctor when he attempted to break into the house where Clara worked. After hearing Clara's distress voice from inside the house, I panicked too. After that, I witnessed this strange man rescued her. I was very grateful.

When the Doctor invited Clara to come along on board the Tardis, Clara agreed on the condition I can go with them too. To my surprise, he agreed immediately. I thought for sure he would not want me around. I was grateful to Clara because of her, I was able to see the wonder of the universe.

Of course, then I had to go and fell for the Doctor. He was kind and affectionate enough toward the both of us. I can't help blushing every time he put his hands on me. Much to my embarrassment, of course, Clara noticed and teased me about it. Clara, being the good friend, she encouraged me to confess my feeling for him but I didn't want to ruin whatever fragile friendship I have with the Doctor.

I can't help but be jealous of Clara. She has got the Doctor's attention almost immediately even though he met us roughly at the same time. I didn’t know it at the times that he had met her twice before. His impossible girl. Now I know why. Clara, the girl who was born to save the Doctor, splintered herself into many pieces inside the Doctor's timeline in order to rescue him.

It was then I noticed that Clara is slowly falling for the Doctor too. And who can blame her? The Doctor was such a charmer in his own way. Clara was special to the Doctor, I can tell. After all, the Doctor owed her a life debt for all those times her echoes died for his every incarnation.

I knew then I never stood a chance to gain his interest. I was just nobody, just a tag-along. And It's hurt, so much. I probably should have left, stop traveling with them and let whatever attraction between them become mutual. If anyone deserve to have the best in life, it would be her, Clara, my best friend.

But my heart couldn't let go just yet. So, I stick around. But I told Clara that I know that she has feeling for the Doctor too and I told her to go for it.

"It's not like I have a chance. He never sees me."

Clara was upset with me whenever I said that. "Then we will make him see you." she said as she gave me a hug. "You are my best friend. I want you to be happy."

"I want you to be happy too, Clara." I said. "You love him. You deserve to have a go with him. Don't hold back because of me."

7777

I watched as my Doctor, the Eleventh one, argued with his past self whom he introduced me as Tenth Doctor. I ended up with three Doctors during an adventure. At Clara's urging, I jumped into the portal, following the Doctor. It was Clara's idea for me to catch his attention. I have to stop being timid, she said. It was really hard to do but for the Doctor, I was willing to try and be reckless.

"You have feeling for my future incarnation." The War Doctor said suddenly.

I almost jumped in my seat. I didn't think he would talk to me. I gulped as I glanced at him much like a guilty child. "I...what? No, I..."

He chuckled. "Oh, your face..."

I glared at him this time.

After he was done with his amusement in my expense, he turned to me with wistful smile. "You should tell him."

"He doesn't feel the same." I blurted out.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "How do you know?"

"Because I saw how he look at Clara and I know..."

"Clara?"

"My best friend. His impossible girl."

The War Doctor nodded. "You should tell him anyway. He might surprise you."

I glanced at him and I opened my mouth to ask what he meant but he seemed distracted like he was seeing someone who was not there.

7777

Clara always said the right words. Thanks to her, the three Doctors ended up saving their home planet, instead of destroying it.

I smiled as the three Doctors and Clara are busy congratulating each other. To my surprise, the War Doctor came to me and gave me a hug. I hugged him back.

After the War Doctor and Tenth Doctor are gone, I finally realized something horrible. The War Doctor knew of my feeling for the Doctor, doesn't that mean my Doctor know? I was terrified at the realization. I wanted to find a hole and crawl under it. But, Clara assured me that the timeline was out of sync at the times, chances are the Doctor might not remember his time as the War Doctor anyway.

7777

Then Trenzalore happened.

We were in the town of Christmas with a truth field surrounding the town. Of course, Clara and I ended up embarrassing ourselves by accidentally revealing our feeling for the Doctor. Thankfully, the crisis at hand didn't give any of us time to address the issue. I was fine pretending I didn't say anything.

Then, the Doctor realized he has found Gallifrey on the other side of the crack of time in the wall inside the tower. The planet itself was surrounded by various enemies of Gallifrey, ready to reign hell upon Trenzalore.

The Doctor ordered Clara and I to go back to the Tardis and to charge his sonic screwdriver. Clara obeyed him immediately. I followed her but stopped short suddenly. Why did he send both of us just to charge his sonic? I had a sneaky suspicious that the Doctor was up to something. I didn't step into the Tardis and to my surprise, the Tardis suddenly vanished before my eyes.

I knew it. He was trying to spare us by sending us away. Didn't work though because I didn't get inside the Tardis. I turned to glance at the Tower. Now what? He will be angry when he realized I was still here. I know I'm being stupid; I did not have anything to offer the Doctor to help defending the planet, but I want to stay here with him. He will think I was a burden, a nuisance so maybe I should stay out of his sight for now.

"(name)?"

So much for staying out of sight. I turned around to face his wrath.

"What are you still doing here? You should be in the Tardis with Clara!"

"You send her away."

"You should not be here! This place is about to be a war zone! Do you understand?" He yelled at me angrily. "You could die if you stay here!"

"I know! I just, Doctor, but...I...I can't just leave you here alone." I said softly.

The Doctor stared at me, speechless. Then he growled. "You stupid...ugh!!"

I flinched. The words hurt but I braced myself.

He turned around and left me. He went back to the tower. "Get yourself into safety with the other!" He yelled without looking at me.

So, I did as I was told. I helped the others to evacuate to a safer place.

Thankfully, the Doctor was able to control the crisis in town.

7777

For the next few days, I avoided the Doctor and he didn't bother seek me out either. I caught a glimpse of him sometimes but I made sure I was out of his sight.

I made a friend here; her name is Laura. She was kind. She was, like me, a timid girl so I was drawn to her immediately. I was grateful for her presence. Most days, I missed Clara and wonder how she was doing back at home. I wonder if I would ever see her again. Laura made me feel less lonely. I would like to think that I did the same for her.

Laura made me feel welcomed here with some of the people in town. Most of them were very nice. She got me some routine job to spend my days so I did not get sad or bored. I was useless to the Doctor anyway.

I sat near one of the fireplaces at the yard in front of the town school. The town people are having a small celebration for days where they are not under attack. I smiled as I watched them being lively and happy despite the bad situation surrounding us. Even the Doctor seemed to have a good time, dancing silly dance with the children. The Doctor did always have soft spot for children.

Laura took a seat by my side and we got to talk about some stuff. She asked me about the Doctor. She noticed there are tension between the Doctor and me, she asked about it. She also noticed the longing look I apparently keep throwing at the Doctor.

Because of the damn truth field, I told her everything that is my truth. I told her I was in love with the Doctor and about how he didn't care about me like that. I told her about Clara and the Doctor. I told her that the Doctor never see me for me, that I was just Clara's friend and nothing else. And that I was somewhat okay with it. I have always known I was invisible among people. But I do wonder if he would be nicer if it was Clara instead who is trapped in the town with him. Clara would never take his harsh attitude and would probably be snarky right back at him. I couldn't.

I didn't realize I was crying until Laura gave me a hug.

A boy, Gilbert, approached us and asked Laura to dance with him. Laura accepted with my urging.

I watched them with a smile. Ah, to be young and in love. I sighed. I sounded like I was already old. I chuckled. And then the bitterness filled me. I was jealous. I hated myself for feeling like that.

I shuddered in cold even with the blanket around me. Suddenly, someone covered their jacket over my blanket. I glanced up and saw the Doctor. My heart skipped a beat as he took a seat beside me.

For a few seconds, he didn't say anything. Then he suddenly nudged me and then he said that he missed me.

I smiled softly at him. "I miss you too, Doctor."

"I'm sorry for how I acted before." He said softly.

I shook my head. "You were right. I was useless. There is nothing I can offer you to help. I was just being a nuisance to you."

The Doctor suddenly grabbed one of my arms while his other hand raised my chin to face him properly. "You are not a nuisance to me, (name). You are my friend. Despite the circumstance, I'm glad that you are here."

"There is no place I would rather be..." I said as I gazed at him and I realized it was the truth. This truth field made me being truth full and brave for some reason. Usually I would never say stuff like that out loud.

The Doctor stared at me. His eyes looked sad. He released me from his hold.

"Don't make that kind of face, Doctor. I choose this. I choose you." I said as I grabbed one of his hands.

"Even when you think I didn't care for you; you would still choose me?" He asked.

I frowned. Then I felt embarrassed when I realized he heard my talk with Laura earlier.

"You are wrong, you know. I do care about you. And you are not just Clara's friend. You are mine too." He said. "I'm sorry to make you feel like you are unseen to me."

I didn't know what to say to him now.

The Doctor stood suddenly and raised one hand toward me.

I glanced at him in confusion.

"Come with me. Back into the tower."

The Tower is where he stayed. I smiled at the invitation as I took his hand.

7777

Ever since that night, our relationship improved slightly. He was no longer ignoring me which I was very grateful.

I loved watching him work on whatever he is doing. I couldn't help him at all but I'm glad to be a witness to his awesomeness every time he solves something or have a grand plan. He even made a new sonic screwdriver from random stuff he found around.

I didn't stay with him all the time though. He always sends me away whenever the town is under attack. He was fiercely protective of me. I tried to watch over him too. It was a good thing I did. Once when the town is under fierce attack, he nearly got shot by a sneaky dalek but I pushed him down onto the road.

The Doctor is surprised to see me but he also quick to disable the dalek.

I pushed myself off him and glanced up at him as he quickly towers over me in anger.

"(name), what are you doing here?! I told you to hide!" He shouted at me.

"Watch your own back then, Doctor!!" I yelled angrily.

"You're hurt." The Doctor suddenly said as he bent his knees and grabbed one of my arms.

I just realized I got a graze from the shot just now. "It was fine."

The Doctor glared at me and then he barked orders on one of the town people to nurse my injury as he left me behind to deal with another attack somewhere else.

7777

I waited for the Doctor inside the tower. When he returned, he was giving me silent treatment much to my annoyance. So, I pushed him to talk to me.

"You could have died."

"So could you. I saved you." I said.

"I didn't ask you to."

"You didn't have to."

The Doctor glanced at me with that look of sorrow again. He suddenly put one hand over my cheeks. "Don't be reckless, (name), you've only one life. You are only human, so fragile."

"You told me this is your last generation and that you don't have anymore. Of course, I have to save you, Doctor. How can I let you die? You are the hope of this town, of the people. But also, because I love you. To see you die before me is not an option!" I said firmly.

The Doctor is giving me this look I can't decipher. "But it was okay to let me see you die first?"

"I am always going to die first. You know that. I'm sorry that I made you care for me, that maybe losing me will cause you some pain but I will not let you die before me. Because if you do, I don't want to live anymore." I probably shouldn't say that but damn truth field is outing all my pain. "But you, Doctor, you will live even if you lose me. And when the Tardis returned and all of this is over, you will go on your next adventure with Clara or some new companion whose life you changed for the better as you did mine. And I am okay with it. To die for you would be an honour."

"Oh, (name)...that's not something I want for you."

"Well, tough...this is my life, Doctor, my choice."

"You keep saying that but do you even understand?"

"Don't treat me like a child, Doctor."

"Then stop acting like it."

The words hurt. I knew if we kept talking, we will hurt each other more so I left the tower.

7777

Despite the warning not to go to the lake alone at night, I did it anyway. I just need to get away and so I did. And it was lucky that I did because I heard a child's cries for help. I perked up and tried to locate the source.

There was a little boy. He seemed to get stuck in the middle of the frozen lake. What is he doing over there in the first place? I wanted to run to get help from other people but the boy, upon seeing me, begged me not to left him behind. He was crying. I promised him I would return. I ran back and screamed for help, hoping someone would hear and come immediately. I returned back and quickly tried to get to the kid.

Of course, I should have left the rescue to professional. But I wasn't thinking, okay? The kid is making me panic too because he was crying really loud. I grabbed the kid just as some of people come upon us only to have the ice beneath us cracked and we both fell back into a cold dark water. And that's when I saw the body of the little girl inside. She was long dead it seemed.

7777

I woke up inside the tower with the Doctor looking so gloomy. It has been three days apparently since I was rescued from inside the lake.

"Doc...tor...?"

He looks relieved when he saw me woke up. He gave me water immediately. "You could have died, (name)..."

I wanted to roll my eyes. Not this argument again. "Doctor, please..."

"I could have lost you today." He didn't listen. "How can I ever face Clara if anything happened to you? You are her best friend, (name), she would kill me."

I chuckled.

The Doctor glared at me. "It's not funny. This is life or death, (name)."

I couldn't help but burst into a giggle.

The Doctor look affronted at not being taken seriously. "Shut up." he said with a pout.

I smiled softly. "Make me."

To my surprise, he kissed me softly.

I blinked in shock, definitely speechless.

He pulled back from the kiss and sighed against my forehead. "Don't ever do that again to me, (name). I can't bear to lose you too soon."

I didn't reply. My mind still busy on the fact that the Doctor just kissed me. He actually kissed me in the mouth and not for CPR. I can't think very clearly. My brain is no longer working.

"(name)?" He called out when I didn't respond.

"You kissed me."

"I...did?"

"You kissed me."

The Doctor suddenly feeling embarrassed now.

"Why?"

"I... don’t know, it just feels right at the moment?"

"Doctor!"

He sighed. "You choose me. So, this is me, choosing you right back."

I frowned at his wording. "I didn't ask you to."

"You didn't have to."

I don't know what this meant. Did he love me or did he just feel the obligation to love me back because I said it first and we are trapped here together for the time being? Did he pity me for my feeling for him? "I don't need your pity or your charity, Doctor." I spat with venom.

The Doctor look confused. "(name)..."

I turned my back from him and ignored him. Tears fell into my cheeks. I sniffed.

The Doctor sighed and for a few seconds, there are only awkward silence. "It wasn't pity or charity, (name)..." he finally said.

"I don't believe you..." I whispered but I know he can hear me.

7777

After I got better, I found out about the boy on the lake. His name is Adam. He was playing with a little girl named Greta on the lake and had an accident. Greta didn't survive, she hit her head hard when she fell into the lake.

Adam's parents are very grateful for me even though I didn't actually save him. Adam glanced at me timidly and give me flower as a gesture of gratitude. His mother told me that Adam might be crushing on me. I thought that was kind of adorable of him.

Laura fussed over me. She was glad that I survived. She filled me in about the three days I missed. Thankfully there are no attack during the time I was out of it.

Laura stayed with me and she talked and I listened. She got distracted by Gilbert and I teased her about him. She blushed cutely.

She asked me for advice regarding how to approach or have a talk with a boy.

I shook my head. "You're talking the wrong person if you are seeking love advice." I said. "I never have a boyfriend."

"Well, how do you usually talk with that Doctor of yours?"

This time I was the one who is blushing. "He's not my boyfriend!" I blurted out. I looked around worried that someone or the Doctor could hear us.

Laura grinned. "I never said he is. But...you want him to be, don't you?" She teased. "You love him."

I sighed. "The Doctor is not someone who just fall in love just like that. You would have to be very impressive person like Clara or River. And I'm not..." I said with a touch of sadness. "As for how I usually talk with him, well, mostly he does all the talking."

"If being with him pains you so much, why would you stay with him?" Laura asked. "Out of sight out of mind would be better, no?"

"I guess I'm not ready to let go..."

7777

The Doctor left for some meeting with the people he put in charge of security of the town. I was on my own in the tower. I pulled my ipod from my bag, the one I always carried everywhere we go. Thank God, I had the bag with me when I got stuck here. I love listening to music, they made my days more bearable. Clara used to tease me that I would put my earbuds just to put people off from talking to me. In a way, she was right.

Ever since I become the Doctor’s companion, I had to go out of my comfort zone more. Many times, I wondered whether I deserve to be his companion. I was too timid. Clara always had my back so it wasn’t so bad. But, she was not here right now. I had to force myself to interact with other people. I was very grateful to have meet and befriended Laura.

I took a seat on the stairs in the tower. I hummed along my current favorite song, a bittersweet song. Clara used to tease me for liking sad song but then she would also sing along with me whenever we were in a mood to sing. My heart ached at the memories. I missed her so much. I wish she was here with me.

I was so focused on my thought I didn’t realize when the Doctor returned and took a seat on the stairs where I was.

“What song are you listening too?”

I jumped in surprise. “Doctor! When did you get here?”

The Doctor shrugged and glanced at me, expecting me to answer his question.

Why was he that curious about the song I was listening to? I pulled off one of my earbuds and gave it to him.

The Doctor put on the earbud. He actually stayed still to listen to the song. He was usually so bouncy, unable to stay in one place for too long.

“It was my current favorite song.” I said.

He hummed. “Clara did mention you have thing for sad song.”

My eyes widened. “When did she say that to you?”

He didn’t answer.

“Do you and Clara talk about me a lot?” I asked, suddenly feeling insecure.

“Only good things, don’t worry.” He finally answered with a small smile.

My ipod suddenly made a bleep sound. I sighed in disappointment when I realized the battery is about to run out. I left my charger on board the Tardis and the Tardis was nowhere in sight.

The Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver. He made a new one. He pointed the sonic to my ipod. “There now, it’s fully charged.” He said.

I smiled at him gratefully. “Thank you, Doctor.”

We sat still as we share music together on that stairs.

7777

I watched as the Doctor was asked by the children to tell them a story and being the kind man he is, he can hardly refused them. I watched in amusement as the Doctor dramatically tell a story that made the children giggling. There was a lot of whirling on the Doctor’s part. It was funny.

I noticed Adam didn’t enjoy the story as much as the other children. I sat with him and asked him how he was doing.

“He is deliberately being silly.” Adam said.

“He is a silly man.” I said.

“I don’t like it.”

“Because he was supposed to be cool?” I asked.

“Well, yeah, he is a hero that defends the town but look at him, playing with kids.”

“What’s wrong with playing with kids?”

“He’s an adult. It’s weird.”

“I don’t think it’s weird.”

“Well, yeah, that’s because you like ‘like’ him.”

I was surprised that he noticed my feeling for the Doctor and I felt so embarrassed that even a kid noticed it. Was I that transparent? “It wasn’t like that. We are just friend.” I quickly said.

Adam gave me a look that said I was a terrible liar.

I decided to change the subject. “Well then, do you have anything you would rather do? I could join you, if you like.”

Adam’s face brightened at that. He grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the Doctor and the other children.

7777

I met a man called John. He was a soldier. He was assigned to help the Doctor to keep the peace. Lately, he has been coming to see me a lot. Laura said that he was courting me. I didn’t believe it but I was begining to believe that it was true. I have no idea what to do. I tried to let him down gently.

To my annoyance, even John noticed that that I have feeling for the Doctor. “He can’t ever love you as I do. I can give you a life that you deserve.” He said.

Even if he was right, I couldn’t love him back. John told me he talked to the Doctor and asked his permission to court me and he gave him the go ahead. I felt like I was being slapped.

The Doctor actually gave him permission to court me? He wasn’t even my guardian. But, in a way, he was, wasn’t he? But, what about his confession earlier, about choosing me back? Was that a lie? Did he retract that because I said I didn’t believe him?

My heart ached so badly. I wanted to cry. I begged John to give me some space. I left him and went into the lake.

“Are you okay, miss (name)?” Adam asked.

I was surprised to see him there. I quickly wiped my tears and put on a small smile. “I’m fine. My eyes are just hurting a bit.”

“Do adult believe in that sort of rubbish excuse?” He asked.

I chuckled at that and I messed his hair up.

“Don’t treat me like a kid.” Adam pushed my hand away in annoyance.

7777

I was mad at the Doctor. I foolishly accepted John who asked me to have a dance with him during a festive in town. I wanted the Doctor to be jealous. But, of course, he didn’t blink an eye as I danced and talked with John.

It was unfair of me to stringing John along. I confessed to him that I was still in love with the Doctor. He said he knew and he was fine with it. He begged me to get to know him too. He hope to open my eyes and let me see his genuine love for me.

Life would be so much easier if you liked the right people. For me, John could have been that person. The Doctor, as amazing as he is, was out of my league. On top of that, he was immortal and he aged very slowly. I was only human, after all, can’t help feeling about my own vanity. We could never be together, could we? Ugh, I was horrible.

I tried to give John a chance. I tried. But my heart still beats for the Doctor. After a month of courting, I told John that he should no longer waste his time courting me and that if he like, I would like to remain friend with him.

John was upset. He left without saying anything. I regretted that it was our last meeting. John died during one of the attack in town that same night. I felt guilty and I grieved for him.

7777

I was with the Doctor in the tower. We sat together in the balcony, watching the moon.

“Why did you give John permission to court me?” I asked suddenly, surprising him.

“I thought it was obvious. You deserve a normal life with a man who can grow old with you.”

I guess, the Doctor worried about vanity too. I nodded. “He would be perfect. He was a good man.”

The Doctor nodded and muttered something along the line “...despite being a soldier...”

I sighed as I pulled my blanket closer around me. “But I wish you didn’t do that.” I said. “It made me think about how little you must think about my feeling for you.”

“It wasn’t like that.” The Doctor quickly said. “I just want you to be happy.”

“You told me before that you were choosing me back, was that a lie?”

“It wasn’t a lie. But I’m an old man, (name), I don’t deserve you. You deserve better than me.” The Doctor said. “I was very jealous seeing you dance with John. I knew you did that on purpose to try to get me to react.”

“You noticed that, huh?”

“Oh believe me, I have to restrain myself from pulling you from him and kiss you right then and there...” He said. “But I can’t be selfish with you.”

“What if I want you to be selfish?” I asked. “What if I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and be loved back in return by you?”

“It certainly will be a challenge.” The Doctor said. “But, you have to be sure that this is what you really want, (name). I am a Time Lord. When we loved someone, we loved so completely to the point almost obsession. You need to be absolutely sure you want this because...I don’t think I could let you go should we go through with this.”

I moved closer to the Doctor and put one hand over his cheek. “I choose you, my Doctor.”

The Doctor smiled solemnly as he put his hand over mine. “As you wish, my dearest (name).”

7777

True to his words, he started showing his affection for me. He started with romantic gestures like a candlelight dinner, a dance with my favorite song played on speaker (yes, that’s right, he made a speaker so that I could connect it to my ipod) and just overall being amazing boyfriend.

He taught me how to use his sonic screwdriver. “Just point and think.” He said standing real close behind me. His arms enveloped me as he helped me point the sonic to the correct target.

“What? Just like that? When you put it like that, it sounded like the sonic is a magic wand.” I said teasingly.

He pouted adorably.

7777

I was happy being with the Doctor. I tried not to think about the future, to just live in the moment. Then something bad happened. Something that I didn’t even see coming. I didn’t even think the Doctor suspect it. The town was under attack and I was looking for Adam. He was nowhere to be found. His parents were worried. I went to the lake with the sonic the Doctor gave me for protection. I thought he would be there. I was hoping not to stumble with any of the Doctor’s enemies here.

But what I saw...is horrible. I saw something I shouldn’t. I can’t comprehend what it is I was seeing. I had to go back and tell the Doctor about it. But, I made a sound unintentionally and he found me.

He was fast and strong for a kid.

I fell to the ground and he descend upon me with a hammer. “Adam, don’t!”

Adam smiled coldly at me. “You saw it, didn’t you? That’s too bad. I really really like you, miss (name). But now you have to go.”

I yelped as he pulled his hammer over my head. Sharp pain filled my head as blood trailing down the side of my face. I felt dizzy. The sonic fell to the ground, covered in my blood.

Adam picked it up. “I will tell him that you were killed. This thing will be the evidence.”

I was horrified. This kid was actually planning to kill me for real?

“It was easy, you see. Everyone trust a kid, even the Doctor. Even John... Others children are easy to manipulated too...”

My eyes widened at the mention of John. “You killed John? Why?”

“You like him too much.” He said. “I know you like the Doctor too. But I can’t kill the Doctor. We need him. But, I suppose this way is better. No one gets to have you now. I’m sorry that it has come to this. I really like you ever since you saved me from the lake.”

Of course, only me would have a psycho kid as an admirer. Any other companion of the Doctor would probably die by another alien hand while I got a psycho kid instead.

I tried to move away but I was too weak. The headache is getting worse. I can barely think.

“I’m sorry, miss (name).” Adam said, sounding genuinely upset even with that chilling smile on his face.

“That’s enough.”

I heard someone said. I didn’t recognize who it was. I think it was a man dressed in black?

The man walked toward Adam and grabbed the kid before he could do so much as screaming. He put his hands over the kids’ temples. Adam stopped struggling. The man then shushed the kid away. He walked toward me.

“900 years of wondering what exactly happened to you. Which of my enemies got to you. And it was just some crazy kid?” He lamented in disbelief.

I tried to focus to stay awake but it was getting hard. “Who…?”

The man bends his knees right beside me. He pulled a sonic screwdriver. Was it mine? I can’t tell. “Don’t move.”

I succumbed to the darkness gratefully.

7777

I woke up in a med bay. I recognized it as the med bay on board of the Tardis.

“Ah, you are finally awake.”

I saw the man from before. I didn’t know who he is. “Who are you? Where is the Doctor?”

The man raised an eyebrow at me. “I’m the Doctor.”

My jaw dropped in disbelief. “No, you are not the Doctor.”

“I regenerated.”

“See, that was a lie. My Doctor told me he was in his last regeneration. You can’t be him. What game are you trying to play here?”

“No game. I got a new set of regeneration. You can thank your best friend for that.”

I blinked. “Clara? Clara is here too? Where?”

“I kind of left her with Vastra and Jenny. No worry, we can come back for her later.”

“Are you really the Doctor?” I asked tentatively.

“Yes.”

“How? You said… How did Clara…?”

“Near the end of my times, I was dying; Clara returned with the Tardis and she convinced the other Time Lords to help me. And here we are.”

“You said on the lake that it has been 900 years…” I whispered. “Did I die?”

“Obviously not, you are here, aren’t you?”

“But you said you have been wondering what happened to me. Did you…crossing your own time stream to save me?”

“Don’t talk about thing that you don’t understand.”

“Well then, explain to me.”

“I don’t think your pudding brain could comprehend it.”

I was very offended. “You are rude.”

The Doctor shrugged as if he didn’t care.

“What did you do to Adam?” I asked.

“Does it matter?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t care. Now answer the question.”

“I told him to go be useful somewhere else.”

“What is that supposed to mean? Did you harm him?”

“Why do you care? He tried to kill you.”

“He’s just a kid.”

“One who has a taste for murder? Greta? John? Ring a bell?”

“He needs help.”

“Oh, don’t worry; I give him exactly what he need.” The Doctor said with a dark tone.

I shivered under his gaze. I started wondering if this man really is the Doctor.

7777

I was so excited to see Clara again. I was about to approach her but she was talking with the Doctor on the console room. She looked sad. I heard the end of what the Doctor said to her.

“I’m not your boyfriend.”

“I never thought you were.”

“I didn’t say it was your mistake.”

My heart ached suddenly. Did that mean the Doctor used to consider Clara his girlfriend? I wanted to hit myself. Why am I still surprise with it? I knew that he has feeling for Clara despite his claim back then of choosing me. Maybe he meant he settle for me. I sighed as I wiped my glassy eyes.

They were still unaware of my presence. They talked about things that I seemed to miss. Something about an ad in a newspaper and a phone number.

I finally made my presence known.

Clara actually look a bit alarmed to see me. I saw her exchanged a look with the Doctor.

The Doctor only shrugged.

Clara went to hug me and I hugged her back tightly.

“I miss you so much, Clara.” I said.

“I miss you more.” Clara said.

The Doctor watched the two of us with a smile. “So, where to next?”

I was surprised when Clara said she want to go home. I sensed something was up between the Doctor and Clara, something that I missed.

Clara asked me if I want to go home with her and I was just speechless.

The Doctor glanced at me without a word.

“I think I will stay for a while. I need to talk with the Doctor.” I said finally as I glanced back at him.

Clara stared at the two of us before nodded. “I will give you some space.” She went out of the Tardis just as her phone rangs.

I turned to the Doctor. I seated myself on the stairs. “So, are you going to give me the same speech, more or less, about how you are not my boyfriend?”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Do you want me too?”

“I’m giving you an out, Doctor. I knew you only settle for me because Clara was not with us back in Trenzalore.”

“Maybe you are the one in need of an out. Didn’t like my new face, eh? Too old for you?”

I glared at him. “That’s not fair. Do you really think me so little?”

“You can’t even look at me and see me as the Doctor.”

“Well, forgive me for being a human! I’m not used yet to the new grumpy face. Also this you are rude.”

“I saved you and I was rude?”

“You called me pudding brain!”

“I called everyone pudding brain. Don’t take it personally.”

I glared at him.

“I meant every words back in Trenzalore. You wanted this. I did warn you I won’t be easily letting you go and what was that you said to me back then?”

I was silent for a few seconds. “I choose you, my Doctor.” I repeated my words to him back then.

“And, do you still meant every words?”

“I...Of course. Yes.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

I couldn’t say anything.

“I see. You prefer the other face more.”

“That’s not it! I just need time to get used to this new you. Is that too much to ask?”

“Fine. I will give you time.” He said with a huff as he moved to get out of the Tardis and I could hear him talking to Clara outside.

Seemed like Clara is having a hard time accepting the new doctor like me. But, it seemed like he managed to convince her. When I got out of the Tardis, Clara waved me over to join them for chips.

7777

I have to sort out my life outside of the Tardis. I lost my job at the diner just yesterday. The Doctor showed up at my work place, basically insulting me and everyone who worked there. I was angry at the Doctor for calling my job as a dead end job, no matter whether he was right or not.

Clara was lucky she got a position as a teacher at a high school. Clara has always the brave out of the two of us. I was content hiding away and be invicible. Clara would never be satisfied with that. She loves being in the spotlight, much like the Doctor. It was a miracle that the two of them actually put up with me.

Clara did get me a job at administration department at the high school she teaches eventually. It wasn’t that bad, thanfully. She introduced me to Danny Pink, a teacher. She told me that she was seeing him. I was very happy for her. Danny looked like a good man.

The Doctor and Clara often went on adventures non-stop. I didn’t know how she can cope balancing Tardis life and real life. I, myself, has turned down the Doctor a few times whenever he asked me to go with him and Clara.

“I’m so tired, Doctor. Tomorrow I have work. I need to sleep.”

“You can sleep when you die.”

I ignored him after he said that.

7777

One day, the Doctor showed up on my doorsteps with a suit and asked me out on a date.

“You are absolutely sure I am going to say yes...” I said as I gestured on his suit.

Of course, his answer kind of ruined the mood. He was too blunt sometimes. But, you have got to admit, he grew on you, especially his angry eyebrows as Clara dubbed it.

Surprisingly, the Doctor set up a good date night. He took me out on a restaurant in some planet. The song that played in the background to my surprise was my favorite song, the one we danced to back in the tower on Trenzalore.

“You remember.” I whispered with a smile.

He only shrugged. He raised a hand toward me and asked me to dance with him.

I smiled widely and accepted. He didn’t smile the whole time but I could see his eyes softened considerably as he glanced at me fondly.

At the end of the night, he gave me a present, sort of, my old ipod.

“I had to give it a bit of upgrade and I took the liberty to add more music for your collection.” He said. “But you can’t let others borrow it since it contain song from the future.”

I held the ipod on my chest and smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, Doctor.” I kissed his cheek.

7777

Clara said she wanted to meet Robin Hood. Oh, I know that Robin Hood was one of her favorite stories.

The Doctor reluctantly took us to go see Robin Hood. He kept insisting that Robin Hood is not real though.

Clara and I was excited to dress ourselves in a period-appropriate dress. We complimented each other much to the Doctor’s annoyance.

“Stop admiring yourself. Do you want to see Robin Hood or not?” He asked grumpily.

Clara grinned as she made me do a twirl before pushing me right into the Doctor’s arms.

The Doctor caught me in his embrace. He gazed at me but didn’t say anything.

Clara smirked. “Now, who is admiring who?”

The Doctor glared at Clara as I blushed.

7777

Clara and I were surprised to see the Doctor undercover at the school where we worked as the caretaker.

The Doctor found out about Danny Pink and was livid because Clara is dating a former soldier.

“John is a soldier and you let him court me.” I reminded him.

“That’s different.”

I rolled my eyes. I tried not to think too much about what he meant. I didn’t want to allow insecurity take a bite on me again. Not today, at least.

Clara introduced Danny to the Doctor and they both have instant dislike of each other.

7777

During on our girl night out, I finally get to ask Clara about Trenzalore and about the last moment of our first Doctor. Well, my first. Clara has seen and interacted in some way with all of the Doctor’s incarnation through her echoes.

She told me that she was once even a Time Lady and that she was the one who introduced the Doctor with the Tardis.

I smiled at that. The Tardis actually owed Clara for directing the Doctor to steal the right ‘sexy’ Tardis. It was kind of funny considering how the Tardis has been treating Clara before. The Tardis was very mean to Clara but now it seemed they get on well.

Clara told me about the Doctor sending her away twice. She told me about the Doctor being very old and weak and alone. She told me about how the Doctor apologized to her for not protecting me, her best friend.

I wanted to cry at the thought that I caused him so much pain by staying in the Trenzalore back then. He thought I was dead and he never stopped wondering about what happened to me. He cared so much that 900 years later, after he regenerated, he risked everything to rescue me.

I know everything worked out well. The Doctor is here. Clara is here. We are all together. I supposed it was better this way. If Adam had not attacked me, I would have stay with the Doctor until my time is running out and he would have to bury me. I knew it was inevitable. I would die sooner or later but later is definitely better.

I suddenly have the urge to see the Doctor so I apologized to Clara for cutting our girl night short. She only grinned at me in understanding.

I called the Doctor, hoping he would accept my call and came to me immediately. Thankfully, he did. As the Tardis materialized in front of me, I ran and pulled the door open. I stared at the Doctor for a short a while and immediately went to hug him, despite his protest that he is not a hugging person anymore.

“I love you, my Doctor.” I whispered to him.

The Doctor’s eyes widened and softened considerably. He didn’t say it back but at the times, it didn’t matter to me.

7777

A Time Lord, basically an alien immortal and a human; our relationship are basically very fragile. I could die any times, be it by the hands of another alien or another human, be it accidentaly or intentionally. Though, I never thought it will happen so soon. But then again, it shouldn’t surprise me so much. Life with the Doctor could be wonderful but also dangerous. The Doctor did always find himself in a life or death situation most of the times.

We got involved in an adventure with the Vikings where we met Ashildr. The villagers are under attack by unknown entity but the Doctor eventually recognize them as the Mire. Ashildr declared wars on the Mire and the Doctor was forced to act accordingly to defend the villagers.

I didn’t actually remember what happened to me. It was very hazy. According to Clara, I was injured gravely in a line of fire during the Mire’s unexpected attack. The Doctor used Mire technology to save my life and Ashildr, sentencing the both of us to a life of immortality, not that I was aware of it at the time.

Originally, the Doctor planned to gave both chips to Ashildr but I was dying and he decided to save me...again. Partly, it was because Clara begged him to save her best friend.

I was in and out of conciousness for a few days on board of the Tardis and when I finally regained my bearing, it was to the worried face of Clara.

Clara exhaled a sigh of relief when she saw me awaken. “Don’t ever do that again.” She said as she hugged me tight.

I was still very weak but I smiled regardless. “You are one to talk. Between the two of us, you are the one who is more reckless.”

“Yet, I’m not the one in the med bay.” She pointed.

I noticed the Doctor leaned against the doorway, staring at the both of us with a look I can’t decipher. I smiled at him. “Thank you for saving my life again, Doctor.”

“Don’t thank me. You might end up cursing me instead.” The Doctor bluntly said.

I frowned.

Clara glared at the Doctor. “He has been grumpy this few days. Don’t mind him.”

I stared at those two in confusion but honestly I was still too tired to deal with whatever issue the Doctor have with me. I imagined the Doctor was upset with me for not being careful.

7777

The Doctor dropped me back on Earth to rest. It was then the world was shaken by a broadcast from the moon. I recognized Clara’s voice. Something about deciding the fate of the moon? I wonder where the Doctor is and why he is letting the people of earth to make the decision.

I called Clara but she didn’t pick up. It was the next day she asked to meet me and she told me she intend to leave the Tardis for good. She told me she was angry at the Doctor. I was confused with the Doctor’s action toward Clara and I can only pray they both could work out their issue. I would hate for our relationship to break over this.

Clara asked me if I think the Doctor is too cold-hearted ever since he regenerated. I ponder over Adam and what he said about giving him exactly what he deserved, not that I know exactly what it was. That moment made me doubted the Doctor but I convinced myself he was just being protective of me so I never mention it again. I didn’t agree with Clara but I didn’t exactly defend the Doctor either.

Clara and the Doctor had a plan for a one last hurray trip. I figured I should not come and give them their space to work their issue with each other. It seemed to work because after that trip, Clara said she will stick around to travel in the Tardis. But she told me she promised Danny she will stop travelling with the Doctor. She had to lie and she made me swore not to tell Danny either.

7777

Clara and I couldn’t help but laugh at the Doctor’s predicament, having being trapped inside the Tardis that had shrunk down to a handheld size.

I couldn’t help giggling at Clara’s antic of acting as ‘Doctor Clara’ taking charge to deal with the current alien invasion. Clara, loving to be in charge, flirted with me as a joke at the Doctor’s expense. The Doctor rolled his eyes at the both of us and shouted to focus.

7777

The forest has grown all over the world. The Doctor believed that this is the end of the world. A giant solar headed toward the earth.

The Doctor offered an escape via the Tardis. Clara refused because she didn’t want to be the last human. I didn’t want to leave the Doctor but I also didn’t want to be the last human either or to leave Clara to her death alone.

It was then I noticed the Doctor and Clara exchanged a look again.

“You were right, Doctor. We shouldn’t keep the truth from her.” Clara said. “(name), you should stay with the Doctor.”

“What? Why?”

That’s when they told me about my immortality, thanks to the Mire technology. I was stunned and I was upset that they didn’t tell me the truth immediately. Now, I understand what the Doctor said before about me cursing him instead of thanking him.

But, there is no time for breakdown. The Doctor was able to figure out that the trees are defending the earth from the solar attack.

I left the Doctor and Clara to be on my own, contemplating the meaning of my new existence.

“So, they finally tell you the truth then?” Someone said.

I glanced up and my eyes widened in surprise when I saw the woman. “Ashildr?”

“Call me ‘Me’.” She said.

We left Ashildr back in the distant past. The fact that she was here confirmed that she was immortal and I shared her fate. I didn’t know how to feel about that.

Me took me to a nearby cafe and ordered tea for the both of us. I sensed that she has resentment toward the Doctor and me.

“Well, you are the only immortal the Doctor seemed to care enough to take with him, unlike myself...or Jack Harkness.” She replied when I asked her about it.

I have no idea who Jack Harkness is but Me explained that Jack is the Doctor’s former companion.

Me told me about her life. She told me about her immortal life so far. She had lost many memories over the long years. She collected journal after journal to write down about her life because she found difficulty holding on her many memories.

I shuddered at the thought that my life is extended indefinetely.

Me gave her phone number and told me to contact her if I want to and then she left me behind.

I didn’t know what to say to the Doctor and Clara so I decided I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t tell them about meeting Me.

Clara apologized for holding the truth from me. The Doctor, as usual, didn’t say anything.

I didn’t know what this meant for my relationship with the Doctor though. Being immortal meant I could stay with the Doctor forever but will our relationship even last forever? What if someday he fall out of love with me? Where would that left me? The thought depressed me so badly.

7777

The Doctor took us to an adventure again and it was just my bad luck that things gone wrong for me...again. I began to feel like the universe is against me or something?

We got stranded on base and naturally a mutating virus was on the loose, infecting people left and right. Of course, I had to be the one who got infected despite being immortal.

Being immortal sucks. The virus got stuck in me. I was in continous state of dying. The Doctor put me on a stasis chamber that will paralyze and put me to sleep while he and Clara worked out the cure by travelling to the distant future.

I was trapped inside the statis chamber for God know how many years. At some point, the stasis chamber got faulty resulting in me getting awaken but paralyzed. I was screaming and begging for help inside my mind, begging the Doctor to come and rescue me but he never did.

It was hard to hold on my sanity. It was a good thing I didn’t feel hunger or thirsty inside the chamber otherwise I feared I would become cannibal and eat myself if that even possible. I can’t even find relief by sleeping. Eventually I was able to move my hand enough to scratch my own face until it bleed, ripped strands of my hairs in a fit of rage. I screamed and cried. Honestly, it was a bliss when miraculously the stasis chamber worked again and put me into sleep.

The next time I was awake, I was no longer on the stasis chamber. I heard familiar voices on the distant. It was the Doctor and Clara arguing about (name) and the stasis chamber. How do I know it was them? It has been so long. My mind might playing a trick on me. I heard them mentioning (name) again.

Oh, (name) is me, right? I opened my eyes and for a while, I couldn’t recognize the surrounding area.

The Doctor and Clara were still unaware that I have awaken. I tried to move my toes and relieved when I realized I could move. I forced myself into a seating position. I took notice of my surrounding. The Tardis, my mind slowly supplied. I got down from the bed and immediately fell into the floor with a loud thud.

They both came into the room and rushed to my aid.

“Are you two...really here? Am I safe now?” I asked in hoarse voice.

Clara looked like she wanted to cry and she hugged me immediately. “I’m so sorry, (name).”

The Doctor glanced at me, for once, I could see that the genuine concern in his expression.

7777

I thought I would get better but I kept having nightmare about being back in the stasis chamber. I would scream so loud and started ripping my hairs off or clawing my skins. The Doctor had to give me sedative and restrained me to bed to stop me from hurting myself and Clara.

The Doctor dropped Clara back on Earth so he can focused on fixing my mind. He asked for my consent to get inside my mind when I was in a better mood. I agreed. I wanted to be able to function again. I didn’t want to hurt myself or Clara or even the Doctor.

He put his hands over my temple and told me to take a deep calm breathe. He put some block over the troublesome memory and hope it would do the trick for my sanity.

Once he deemed me safe, he let me out of the Tardis. I decided to quit my job at the school where Clara teaches. I didn’t want to see the worry or pity in her eyes. I tried to sort my life back together. I got myself a job as a waitress again. Thankfully, the Doctor didn’t make the mistake of calling it a dead end job again otherwise I might slap him silly.

At Clara’s urge, I took an art class as part of therapy.

Despite the block the Doctor put inside my mind, I still have nightmare about the stasis chamber, at least I didn’t go bat crazy about it afterward.

I called Me’s phone number but then I decided to hang up. But the next day, Me showed up on the diner where I worked much to my surprise. She said she recognized my number. I apologized for bothering her.

She insisted I talk to her though so I did.

7777

Lately, the Doctor insisted to have adventure with just the two of us. He made sure it was safe though. I could tell he was worried for me.

I found out that Danny died. I went to Clara’s house to comfort her. She was numb and unresponsive. I called the Doctor to inform him about Clara.

Clara said she need to talk alone with the Doctor and asked me to step back for a bit. Albeit confused, I did as she asked.

Next thing I knew, the world is suddenly overun by cybermen. Kate, from UNIT, picked me up and I was able to reunite with the Doctor. Kate said the Doctor has been chosen as the President of Earth. She also informed me that the Doctor’s enemy, Mistress or Missy, was on board the plane too. But Clara was nowhere to be found. I was very worried.

I met Missy and she curiously observed me. Then, she proceed to mock me as the Doctor’s eternal pet. The Doctor told me to ignore her. But, she knew things and she knew my insecurity regarding the Doctor and Clara. She told me that the first face an incarnation first took sight to was dear to a Time Lord and she knew that I was not his first face, that Clara is. She knew I was not the Doctor’s first choice on anything. The words hurt but I knew it was true.

The Doctor heard every words she said to me but he didn’t even bother to reassure me otherwise. I can’t blame him though. He was busy thinking about how to save the world again. He has no time to coddle me.

The Doctor saved the world again. Clara stopped travelling with the Doctor. I wanted to hit the both of them in the head for being stupid. They lied to each other and they turned to me and made swore up and down not to reveal anything. Stupid Doctor. Stupid Clara.

I continued to travel with the Doctor. I was working on the courage to talk to him about my immortality and what it meant for our relationship. But, I was a coward and it didn’t help that the Doctor might actually avoiding the subject too.

I was glad when Clara returned to travel with the Doctor again. Apparently, they had finally told each other truth, thanks to the dream crabs and...Santa Claus? Whatever. I was just grateful team Tardis is back.

7777

Clara has become reckless and I reprimanded her about it.

“What’s the point of being immortal if you won’t live a little?” Clara blurted out.

I frowned at that, feeling a bit offended. I was beginning to feel like I wasn’t quite as welcomed aboard the Tardis as before. The Doctor has not even taking me to another date since forever and I still haven’t got around to talk to him about our practically non-existent relationship.

I sighed. Maybe I was a bit too sensitive about everything? Missy’s words did bother me a lot. But Clara is my best friend. The Doctor, regardless whether he is my boyfriend or not, is actually a good friend. I should be grateful that they still want me around right?

But, Clara is right though. I was now an immortal. Shouldn’t I change the way I have been living my life? I should stop being timid and like she said to try to take more risks.

Just when I was considering to change myself to fit the Doctor and Clara better, if that even possible, something bad happened. We met Me again in a Trap Street and Clara accidentally sealed her own fate with the Raven. She died.

She was brave right up till the end. She said goodbye to the Doctor and myself. I couldn’t accept that my best friend is about to die. I begged the Doctor to fix it. But, when I saw the sorrow and resignation on his face, I knew there is no saving Clara.

I cried over Clara’s dead body. The Doctor was gone, transported to who know where, by whoever made Me to set a trap for him.

The Doctor didn’t come back for me. Of course, he wouldn’t. I was bitter. He finally got an out from me.

7777

I was depressed, sad and alone. I couldn’t go to Me because I still have mixed feeling for her part in killing Clara. I was afraid of facing my immortality alone. Me did warned me that the Doctor, despite being immortal himself, expressed strong dislike of immortals and he tend to avoid them. He told her other immortals felt wrong to him. I was angry at him for sentencing me to a life of immortality and then abandoned me.

Kate contacted me and invited me to join UNIT. I accepted. She had her best soldier to train me to fight. I was in so much pain and I welcomed the physical pain of the training. Though, I suck at training but I was determined to change myself. If I have to going through my immortality alone, I might as well started training myself to fight to protect myself.

I was surprised when Clara returned with her own Tardis. She said she was worried for me. She was with Me, a future Me, apparently. She warned Clara about myself and the path I had chosen for myself. Clara told me about the Doctor being trapped in confession dial for billion billion years, about how he risked all time and space to bring Clara back and about how he loses his memory of her.

Clara begged me to travel with the Doctor again. “He need you more than ever...”

I wanted to cry. I didn’t want to go back to the Doctor and facing the truth that he never loves me. I wanted to be with my best friend, travelling back to the Gallifrey the long way but she refused me. I wanted to tell her all of my insecuries but I was afraid she already grew tired of it and will mock me for it.

Clara firmly made me sit. “Tell me everything you feel inside that mind of yours.” She said.

And, I told her everything. I told her about what Missy said to me and about the Doctor not caring about it. I knew I sounded pathetic but I tell her anyway.

After I was done pouring my heart out, I asked her if I was a right fit to be his companion. “Wouldn’t it better to let him move on and find a better companion that can keep him in line? Because I certainly couldn’t.”

Clara said the right words to make me feel special but I knew deep down I didn’t believe her every word. She made me promise to travel with the Doctor again and I promised. She left afterward.

I lied to her. I didn’t seek the Doctor. Why would I when he didn’t even care enough to seek me out? He might not remember Clara but he should remember me. If he care for me, he would at least try to find me to console me, wouldn’t he?

I had hope though days after days hoping he would come and get me. He didn’t. I cried, feeling sorry for myself, hating him, wishing for him to let me die instead of turning me into immortal. And then, I tried to contact him to get him to see me when I was drunk out of my mind. But he didn’t come. He abandoned me.

I went insane for a while. I picked up a knife and slit my wrist only to watch it self-healing over and over again. Kate found me eventually and took me to UNIT for treatment. She got me a therapy to help deal with my depression.

7777

After years of hard training, Kate finally allowed me on field mission. I had the advantage since I was immortal so I asked to be given dangerous mission. Kate, at first, reluctant because she recognized me of being suicidal but I insisted on it.

Kate’s science division genius person, O, developed a chip implant that could help with my depression. She agreed to give mission if I agreed to wear it. I accepted immediately.

“Will this help to mend a broken heart and broken mind? Because that would be super great.” I said softly.

After the implant, I felt less sad, less suicidal and more focused on my work at UNIT. It was like my own humanity switch.

7777

I met the Doctor again, accidentaly, during a mission in Sheffield. I was ordered to investigate a possible alien activity over there.

I enlisted a PC, Yazmin Khan, to inform me should she see something strange. She called me later that day about weird alien thing that her friend, Ryan, found earlier. The lead from them led me to the train where Ryan’s grandmother, Grace and her husband, Graham, currently trapped on board a train with an orb of electric tentacles.

That’s when a woman fell from the sky onto the train right in front of me. My eyes widened as I saw the weird stranger. The way she acted though made me suspicious and when she exclaimed having being a scotman before, I immediately knew. I was hit suddenly with grief and anger. But I didn’t say anything because she didn’t even recognize me. She didn’t even know her own name. I was afraid that I would lose control and bitch-slap the Doctor in a fit of my rage.

The Doctor involved all of us in her investigation. I stepped back while she rambled non-stop about the alien. I contacted UNIT and asked Kate to send another agent to deal with the alien and the Doctor. I didn’t give her time to refuse me. I walked away from the warehouse where we currently are when Yaz stopped me. She said the Doctor told her that everyone has been implanted by an explosive chip implant.

I laughed harshly at that. “Well, that’s fine. Maybe I will die for real this time.” I said angrily. “UNIT is sending their best officer to help in dealing with the alien. I have to go.”

Yaz look confused but didn’t stop me.

7777

Back at UNIT, the science division managed to remove the explosive from me. My whole body is shaking with anger and grief. I raised my trembling hands in annoyance. I hated that the Doctor had this effect on me. I hated her already.

Kate, being the nice boss she is, asked me of how I was doing. I was doing so badly that’s for sure.

“I need an upgrade for my chip.” I said.

Kate stared at me with disapproval.

“I’m afraid if I see her again, I might want to kill the Doctor, Kate.” I said. “Please help me.”

7777

The Tardis materialized inside UNIT’s headquarter without warning much to Kate’s dismay.

The Doctor came out, demanding to see me. It was almost like she think UNIT will get in the way of meeting me.

I stared at her, not impressed.

Kate glanced at the two of us and told us to use her office to have a long due talk.

The Doctor looked timid now that we are alone. “I’m sorry for not recognizing you before. Mind still rebooting you know. Regeneration...” She rambled on. “I remember myself eventually...and of you...”

I didn’t reply to her statement, instead I asked, “Why are you here, Doctor?”

“So, you do know who I am that day? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why should I?”

The Doctor’s jaw dropped. Now she looked like a kicked puppy. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. I didn’t mean to left you behind.”

I sighed. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It matter to me! I know I wronged you, (name).”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Doctor, because I have made a life, a life without you.” I spat. I wanted to be calm but she brought out the most ugly emotion in me.

She flinched at my tone. She scoffed at what I said. “With UNIT? I hacked your file and you have been reckless, risking your life...”

“YOU HAVE BEEN HACKING MY FILES?!”

The Doctor took a step back in face of my anger.

“You have no right to do that! You don’t even get a say over what I am doing with my life!” I yelled.

“You are my responsibility, (name).”

I scoffed. “Is that all I am to you?”

“I know I let you down.”

“You abandoned me.” I said. “Now, that I have manage to take whatever control I have over my life, you think you can just come in here and what? What do you expect from me this time, Doctor?”

“I want you to come back. I would like to travel again with you.”

“Why? Didn’t you already find new companion? I knew about Yaz, Ryan and Graham, Doctor.”

“Of course you know. UNIT always have to collect data about me.” The Doctor muttered. “But this isn’t about them. It’s about you.”

I shook my head. “It was never about me, Doctor.”

“I know I hurt you, please let me fix my mistake.”

“So now I am a mistake?”

The Doctor groaned. “That’s not what I meant. Stop twisting my words.”

“I don’t want to be with you anymore. You already had an out. Why do you bother with me again?”

“I never wanted an out. I didn’t mean to abandon you. After Trap Street, I...”

“I knew what happened, Doctor. Clara told me about your confession dial and about how you lost your memory of her.”

“I got it back. My memory of Clara.”

“Of course you do.”

The Doctor sighed. “You have always so insecure, (name).”

I glared at her. “Just leave, Doctor. I don’t need you anymore.”

“But I do.” The Doctor replied. “I need you, (name).”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. And stop dictating my feeling for you. You always like this. What was it you said before? I settled for you instead of Clara?”

I felt like I got slapped. I remembered saying those words to her previous incarnation. “How dare you? You come here like you own the place and then decided on a whim to hurt me?”

“That’s not my intention at all.” The Doctor said. “I know I am not reliable with my feeling but what I said back in Trenzalore still true, every words. I choose you, (name).”

“Why are you doing this to me? Do you just enjoy ripping my heart out?” I asked with glassy eyes.

The Doctor walked fast toward me. She raised my chin and kissed me hard.

I was stunned.

She broke the kiss and look at me shyly. “Will you give me another chance? I promise I will do right by you.”

I broke down. “Doctor...” And I suddenly clutched my chest.

“(name)?” The Doctor called out in worry.

I fell to the ground immediately but she caught me halfway. She yelled for help. She pulled her sonic and started scanning me.

Kate and a few agents rushed into the office.

7777

There was a glitch inside my chip implant. The overwhelming emotion I felt was too much and it caused it to glitch and rebooted.

I woke up in the medical room at UNIT. I could hear the Doctor yelling at Kate about the chip implant she put on me and how dangerous it was.

I pulled myself into a seating position and observed their argument absentmindedly.

The Doctor stopped yelling when she saw me awake. She look into my eyes and saw the indifferent that reflected back in my eyes. She slumped her shoulder.

The chip had rid me of my feeling...for the Doctor.

A/N: I don’t know if there will be part 2 of this. Maybe if inspiration hit, I will. But maybe it ended exactly like that. Not everyone get a happy ending is a theme on most of my fanfiction. Would anyone be interested instead to make the part 2 of their own? Honestly, I write this story with a dark!doctor in mind but the story suddenly got away from me and make a turn to this instead.

#11th doctor x reader #12th doctor x reader #13th doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #twelfth doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who imagine #shiefenwrites

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onelastbreath-writes · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll Meet You There (Part 3)

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/ Wife!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Talks about loss of spouse, loss of child, medical conditions/inaccuracies, grief/mourning, manipulation/brainwashing (subtext/implied, but we’ll get into it later *winkwink*)

Tags: Hurt/No comfort (for now), ANGST, eventual happy ending, one really sad man for whom I just keep making things worse, #sorrynotsorry, and now I’m just making stuff up as I go along

Summary(lite): You are Marcus’s wife, and you’re definitely not dead. No one is having a great time right now, but like hell if there's a force on this earth that’ll keep you apart forever. This is not a goodbye, its just a see you later. And the interim is going to be everyone else’s problem, you’ll make sure of it.

A/N: Hello dears, welcome back to my twisted mind story,,, guess who showed up like 2 weeks late with a smoothie! So things about this new chapter: I am a criminal with italics and someone needs to stop me, hello switching scenes and perspectives because I just want to fast forward to the good stuff but y’all don’t live in my head and don’t know all the stuff that happens to get us there so here we are taking the slow lane, and I keep brainstorming new and horrible things for my characters because I am A Lot, All The Time, and will not be stopped. Also hey, Marcus the Simp is here for you, so much. I hope this is acceptable to be a reader fic still, because I am giving you some serious personality traits... ehh, it is what it is. Tell me if you spot any of my various references, there’s a lot of ‘em. Thanks to everyone who has liked/reblogged/commented, y’all are gorgeous and I’m so grateful for the love <3 Drop me a message/ask if you want a secret about one of the characters (specify which one), I need an outlet for my endless b.t.s. plotting >;) Please enjoy p3!

AO3|Masterlist

[Previous Part]

---

There were more casseroles in his fridge that Marcus knew what to do with, and more sympathy and “thinking of you” cards stacked in piles around the house than he could count. He appreciated everyone’s gestures, but he could recognize the difference between people who were kind in the interest of helping others, and those who were kind only to help themselves. It was quite obvious which type were flooding his mailbox.

Hell, most of the people sending him cards, his fans, didn’t even know his wife, never spoke to her, didn’t feel the empty Her-shaped-space in their very souls. They just wanted the clout, the prestige, of being ‘involved’ and sympathetic to a grieving superhero. It was exhausting, but no one seemed to empathize with him on that.

The Heroics upper management, and the director specifically after his press conference and the publicity the attack had brought the organization, had insisted on Marcus taking an undetermined amount of leave from the team so he could “process and mourn his loss in the comfort of his own home.” Like he didn’t look around and see every piece of himself and his wife over the years; the Home they built for their family, filled with all the hopes and dreams of two starry eyed lovers ready to take on the world together. Like her absence wasn’t slowly killing him.

And it wasn’t like she was gone gone.

Dead.

She wasn’t dead.

No way in Hell.

Whether it was because she worked with superpowered people, her experience as a medical professional, or if she was just more paranoid than most, his wife was a planner, and she was prepared for this. “In the event of my death...," like she just knew it would be necessary.

Truthfully, she had schemes and contingencies and all manner of reactionary plans prepared for if (and when) the worst happened; terrified to be blindsided or caught unaware, unable to help those she would have been able to, if only if she had the time to think. Unpreparedness costs lives in both of their careers, and she refused to leave anything up to chance if possible. And so, she’d plan, and he’d listen.

All throughout their relationship, from before they’d even gotten serious enough to discuss marriage, to when they heard their unborn child’s heartbeat for the first time, and just on random weekday afternoons when they would take Missy for walks around the neighbourhood to show her the beauty in their lives, his wife would paint her theories and ideas like artwork. She’d tell him a story, full of action and mystery, humour and theatrics, tragic romance and harrowing adventure; she could spin a tale like she had a silver tongue, but she never lost herself in her own narratives. In the end, they were messages, lessons, for him to remember when everything was going wrong.

“It’s all about momentum, babe. Bleeding off energy and taking a bad hit instead of a fatal hit. You can’t just full stop; you’d absorb all the kinetic energy, and the resulting trauma will turn all your squishy internals into, like, body soup, which is just super unpleasant. And of course, head is always number one priority. Bracing for impact works better at giving you fewer serious injuries, especially for your neck and head. Muscles should absorb as much of the energy as possible, instead of letting it fall to your ligaments, discs, and nerves to take the force. So, tense up and roll in the case of a low air evacuation.”

Low air evac... she was concerned he was going to have to jump from an aircraft without a parachute at some point in his life. Which was probably accurate he’d admit, but still, he wasn’t hoping to actually need that plan.

Thankfully, it wasn’t always fire and brimstone with her, and she had many strange and terrible schemes to keep the common, everyday superhero family on their toes. Always carry at least two lip balms... never tell someone you don’t have plans for the evening... don’t smile in your mugshot... no clowns. Ever.

She was so weird, a total nerd, and so completely the girl of his dreams.

He loved teasing her about her unending train of thought, the brain that never sleeps, how she’d go on tangents while on tangents but always circle back around; even nicknamed her (quite cheekily, and because it made them both laugh) Doctor Batman, which was usually saved for when she was being particularly dramatic and gloomy. Turn the supercomputer off for a second, Bats, come see what Missy’s doing!

He was her anchor, always ready to pull her back to earth when she started drifting off too far from them, but he never asked and never wanted her to change. He adored her, silly or serious, or when she woke him up in the middle of the night to make him promise that he’d never get their kid(s) a pet owl (because they’re “scary”, and “our kids would be too powerful, Marcus. Promise me!”), or that in the event of them inviting a third to their bed, it would “absolutely never, ever, ever be Miracle. No way!”

He thought it was quite entertaining most of the time, listening to her plan for zombies and old gods and what to do if everyone just started hating cheese one day, but if it was all so important to her: having him remember this or agree to that, he’d accede to her requests in a heartbeat. Most of it was cute, harmless stuff he didn’t think would even happen, but sometimes she would hit him with serious stuff. Entirely out of left field, she’d go for his heart, and ask him for things that would hurt him, destroy him inside, if he ever had to follow through with it.

“Marcus, if it’s a choice between my safety- my life, and Missy’s? I’m always going to choose her. Kids come first, okay?”

She wasn’t superpowered, didn’t have a shred of anything other than pure, normal human in her, but she was easily the strongest person he knew. Fearless and brave, kinder than this world deserved, she’d do anything for the people she cared about. And she’d promised him, maybe as a way to repay him for all the things he’d agreed to over the years, that she’d move heavens and the earth to return to their family. That nothing in this world, or beyond, could keep her away. “Eventually,” she’d stared into his eyes, glossy with tears from how forcefully she believed, “I will find my way back to you. I swear it, so keep a weather eye on the horizon.” See? A whole-ass nerd, and he couldn’t have loved her more.

So, she wasn’t dead. Pure and simple. She was somewhere, somehow, and he was going to find her again.

---

“Marcus, the grieving process is different for everyone, but it is always unpredictable and painful. You will have days where you will feel like you haven’t made any progress, or even lost the progress you’ve previously made, but please know that this is natural; it's something everyone experiences, and that it doesn’t mean you’ve failed in your objective. Healing takes time, and a major part of recovery is learning to forgive yourself when you slip up. No one expects you to be back to normal tomorrow, or next week, or next month. Healing from grief is not a race, so we will go at your own pace, and we will work together to accomplish your recovery goals. You aren’t alone in this journey, and you don’t need to handle everything by yourself.”

The grief specialist he was seeing was someone he would describe as an “old soul”. She exuded the patience and peace of someone who had watched empires rise and fall, seen the turning of the wheel of time and drifted along with the current. Her voice was deep, rich in emotion and empathy for those who needed guidance, calming and intriguing with a soft lilt on her vowels. Timeless and ancient all in one, and even if he wasn’t actually mourning the death of his wife, he did find himself deeply grieving being without her. They were two halves of a whole, and though his soul was at a loss without its partner here, he still had their greatest creation, their pride and joy, their baby girl to raise.

He would do whatever he had to do to be the best parent he could for Missy. And so, if meeting with a physiatrist every week was something that would help, then he would be here, every week. He'd learn to live with his grief, his sadness and loneliness, with just the memory of his Everything, and he’d help their kid with all hers too.

It’s what he promised to do, after all.

“If anything ever happens to me, you’ll just have to love her enough for the both of us.”

---

There was nothing they could recover of the people closest to centre of the explosion. No remains, no blood, nothing. Like they hadn’t been there at all.

Suspicious.

Upper Management had brought in a team of private investigators to handle the case, people who would keep the details quiet and the public appeased with what little information they’d choose to release.

Marcus was a superhero, and sure, his job was to hit things until they weren’t a problem anymore, but he couldn’t understand why all the highly trained professionals didn’t question the sheer amount of evidence that just wasn’t adding up.

He tried to bring up the inconsistencies once with the lead investigator, but they had just given the distraught, widowed husband, so lost in his own denial and grasping at straws, a sad smile and told him they would do everything they could to find the truth for him and the rest of the victims’ families.

Typical.

After being brushed off without a second thought, he decided to keep his ideas quiet, and since they’d proven their unwillingness to listen, he’d just have to solve the mass disappearance himself.

“Have you ever thought about how to commit the perfect murder, mi amor? I have. First: If there’s no body, they can’t prove the person is dead. No evidence of death? No murder. Simple. But of course, completely vanishing a full human would be a challenge. Short of having the superpowers necessary to, like, erase someone from reality in their entirety, there would be a lot of chances to leave evidence. Ordering suspicious chemicals leaves a trail, driving out to a pig farm in the middle of the night is shady as hell and all neighbors are professional narcs, and fires? Hah! Do you have any idea how hot the fire needs to be to cremate human remains, and how long they would need to grill for? Huh, maybe the perfect murder isn’t a murder at all...

Hey babe...

Always doubt a body, but always doubt no body, more.”

---

You tended to lose time when there was no one else in your room. It was hard to tell when your eyes were open because you started dreaming about the only things you could see since you first woke up: drop-ceiling tiles, white walls, and pale blue curtain dividers. And it was easier that way, in the end. Your heart didn’t hurt when you only dreamt of the room. You couldn’t mourn the things and people only your soul could remember if you thought of the room. Drifting in and out of consciousness was how you were coping.

---

You had been here, left in this room alone, for ages. You had agreed to help the man who had saved you from the explosion that killed your family, but apparently you couldn’t help him until you had recovered enough. You’d read your charts, grilled your nurses and doctors more and more the longer you were kept here. What were they all waiting for? There was nothing wrong with you except the mild post traumatic amnesia, and the whole not-remembering-much-(or anything, really)-about-your-personal-life-and-family-of-the-recent-few-years thing you had going on. It was nothing compared to when you first awoke and could remember nothing. It killed you to be without the memories of your husband and child, to know only of them instead of actually knowing them, but there was nothing you or the doctors here could do. The brain was a tricky thing, and you had to accept that your memory loss might be permanent.

That just meant that you had to put all that you could remember to good use. You could help people here, and work towards getting justice for your family. Years and years of school, practical experience and training, you had gained it all back; re-read textbooks and studies, wrote papers on your re-emerging knowledge and jogged your memory about long nights and early mornings, surgeries and follow ups... it was all still in your head. It had returned to you easily, like diving into a cool pool on a hot summer day. It was like coming home and taking off your shoes; it felt good, freeing, as-it-should-be.

But still they weren’t letting you leave. So: what were they waiting for?

“Ah, Doctor, it’s lovely to see you, as always. How are we feeling today?” Okay, so the guy who “saved” you (read: paid the people who actually saved your life) gave you the heebie-jeebies. He looked like a classic pompous asshole bigwig, like, oil tycoon or something. And he definitely had some sort of thing for you. Gross.

“I’m doing as well as can be expected, trapped in a room with nothing to do, you know, brain rotting, et cetera. Thanks for asking.” The sass was a choice, probably not a great choice, but your choice none-the-less. You really hadn’t had many opportunities to choose anything for yourself in a while.

Well...

You were bored, and that was going to be everyone else’s problem.

“Ah, well, good news then! You have been cleared from observation and you’ll be able to be discharged soon. Isn’t that just delightful!” Mister Craig (“Please, just Greg is fine”), was some sort of horrible group hallucination, you were convinced. No one was that cheery, that animated, unless they were on something, or you were on something. “I’ll have someone bring you your personal effects shortly, and then I can show you to your new apartment. The complex isn’t in the best neighbourhood unfortunately, but it's got some real charm, very vintage! You’ll love it!”

“I’ll look forward to seeing it then; sounds like it’ll be a real interesting place to stay. You can also explain what it is I’m going to be doing with your organization. Because you haven’t specified yet. And I expect a proper contract and wage agreement. Legally binding preferably, for your sake, of course, Mr. Craig.” Even if you weren’t the most physically intimidating person around, you knew how, and more so, when, to assert your dominance in a conversation. Especially with men like him. He was the type of guy who would pinch a nurse’s ass and then accuse them of not being able to take a joke.

“You wound me, Doctor, I am a man of integrity! I promised you an opportunity to make a difference! To get justice for the loved ones so cruelly torn from you! You have nothing to worry about!”

Sounds legit. Totally above board. Can’t wait.

---

Taglist (omg!! thanks love): @killtherandomness

Drop me a line if you want to be added <3

#we can be heroes #we can be heroes fanfiction #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #Marcus Moreno x you #reader x marcus moreno #reader insert #Pedro Pascal #hurt/comfort #eventual happy ending #say hello to doctor batman lol. theres a whole thing i created just for that nickname to happen. ask me about it if you want XD #also you're a sassy BAMF. oops

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skullrock · 5 years ago

Text

the partners, chapter two - Steve x Reader

chapter two: there is a light that never goes out

series summary: you and Steve are police apprentices at Hawkins Police Station in the fall of 1986. you get along famously, but there’s something Steve is hiding, and there is an unknown evil lurking in Hawkins. [friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff]

chapter summary: You and Steve grow closer; you and Steve are called in to investigate a death

warnings: swearing, panic attacks, mention of death

word count: 3.3k

a/n: things are heating up boys!! next chapter will really kick off the cop stuff. if you haven’t seen it, here’s the Spotify playlist that goes with the series, and you can catch up here. enjoy!

---------

The rest of the week rolls by without many incidents. By the time Friday comes, you’re beaming with excitement.

“We’re still on, right?” You ask him Friday morning, bouncing on your toes.

“Y/N, for the fifteenth time, yes,” he laughs. “I’m not bailing.”

He kind of wishes he could – he hasn’t been able to sleep. He can’t stop worrying. What if this is a mistake? What if you get hurt? What if this all backfires? He can’t let you know this, though, and he’s been grinning through the week.

“Great, do you know where I live?”

“Three streets away from me, Oak Street, the big white house.”

You tilt your head. “How did you—”

“You’re the only person in town with a Walter Mondale sticker on their bumper,” he replies. “I saw your car in your driveway.”

Steve had moved out of his parent’s house about one week after securing the position at the station. His parents had graciously gotten him an “apartment,” which was in fact a nice house in a good spot in town. They paid his rent as a form of gratitude that he was “getting his life together”. He hated that idea, truly, but was happy to be able to live on his own, only worrying about groceries. He was a lot happier now that he was on his own – specifically that he was not living with his father. He did see his mother though, and pretty often, because she would bring him a lunch every few days.

“Creep,” you say, smiling. “Then I’ll see you tonight.”

“Y/N, we have an eight hour shift ahead of us.”

“Whatever. I’ll see you all day and then tonight.”

---------

Steve pulls up around 6:30, and he’s sweating bullets. He honks once, then waits. He finds himself checking himself out in the rearview mirror, and then quickly jerks his head away. It must be some kind of knee-jerk reaction, Steve thinks, picking up a girl feels like a date.

You come out of your house and lock the door, then bolt down the steps to his car. He can feel the energy radiating off of you.

“Hi,” you say as you slip inside.

“You look nice when you’re not wearing a uniform,” he jokes.

“Funny. I was going to say the same about you.” You buckle up and he sets off for Mike’s house.

“Now that you’re hanging out with my friends, am I going to hang out with yours?” he asks.

You deflate slightly. “Well, that’s the thing,” you say quietly, examining your nails. “I um. I don’t really… have any?”

He looks over at you, forehead creasing at your body language. “You don’t have any friends? That’s gotta be bullshit.”

“I did,” you explain. “But then I went to college and I lost touch with people from high school. And then I came back and I lost touch with people from college. So, I really don’t…” you sigh heavily. “Hang out with people.”

He swallows hard. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. If I knew –“

“It’s okay,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “It’s not your fault or anything. It doesn’t matter now, anyway.” You smile and lightly punch his arm. “Since I managed to crawl into your life.”

“Well, you’ll really like the kids,” he says. “Let me give you the rundown.”

He begins to explain all six of them. Dustin Henderson, his best friend, has a bit of a lisp and some disease that “makes him like Gumbo? Gumby? Whatever.” Mike Wheeler, party leader, bit of a drama queen, loyal friend. Lucas Sinclair, funny one of the bunch, dating Max, the redhead, is emotionally mature despite his comedic exterior. Max Mayfield, redhead extraordinaire, metaphorically adopted sister of Steve, super intelligent and strong. Will Byers, “you already know him,” kind and quiet, has been through a lot, deserves the world. Then there’s El.

“El is… different.”

“How?”

“Well…,” he sighs. “She… comes from a bad home. She was… she comes from a bad home. They did bad things to her.”

“Oh.”

“But she’s really great. I’m trying to teach her how to read before she and Will go back to Maine for school. She’s dating Mike, they get along pretty well. She’s really smart, just behind since she never got to go to school.”

You nod. “They all sound like phenomenal kids.”

“They are,” he replies thoughtfully. “Sometimes they’re a pain in the ass, but they’re my pain in the ass.”

You pull into the same large house on Maple Street that you had a few days before and hop out. You’re feeling a bit antsy – so is Steve.

“Wait,” you say. “Doesn’t Nancy live here?”

“Oh.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, but we’re cool. We still talk to each other. And she’s probably out with Jonathan anyway.” He clears his throat, and you reach out and squeeze his arm. “I’m okay,” he laughs. “Come on, let’s go.”

The kids remember you from the other day, and your friendship with Steve helps convince them that you’re a good person. You get along together immediately, laughing and joking like you’re all old friends. Steve beams and Dustin nudges him, making Steve shove him.

“We’re watching The Goonies tonight,” Lucas says, producing the VHS.

“What’s a goonie?” El asks.

“It’s like, a silly person,” Steve explains. “Like Mike.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “We can’t start yet, Robin isn’t here.”

You nearly choke on the soda you were drinking. “Robin? Robin Buckley?”

As if on cue, the door to the basement opens and Robin comes down. You jump up and shout her name. She looks at you, confused for a brief moment, then smiles widely and bounds over to you.

“Oh my God!” you both shout as you embrace. You try to ask each other questions, but they all come out at the same time, making you both laugh.

“Are you going to tell us how you both know each other?” Steve asks, brows drawn together, but smiling, nonetheless.

“We were in band together!” Robin exclaims. “I thought you died or something, you never called!”

“I lost your number when I moved to Indianapolis,” you explain, squeezing her hand. “But I’m back now. I’ve been back for a few months. I work with Steve, at the station.”

Robin snaps her head over to him and glares, making him sink in his seat.

“None of us knew,” Max pipes up. “That Steve works with someone, I mean.”

Robin closes her eyes and shakes her head. She looks back at Steve with a we need to talk kind of look, then turns back to you. “Well, you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

As the night goes on, you grow more and more comfortable with everyone. You sit and talk to Robin while the rest of the gang plays Monopoly. You could mirror the movie to how the kids act – it’s like they are the Goonies. You watch as they all bicker, Max shoving Lucas over stupid jokes, and El grabbing onto Mike, leaning into him. You watch as Will and Dustin barter with each other, and as Steve calls them all out for “cheating,” which is code for “I really suck at this game and need to explain why I’m losing.”

Your eyes focus on Steve while he explains something to El. It makes your chest swell. It feels like the only thing you can focus on his Steve. How bright his eyes are while talking to his friends, how his brows flit together then part as he laughs. And his laugh. It’s the only thing you can hear, and the sound rings in your ears. He looks up at you and smiles, then goes back to looking at the game board. You snap out of your trance.

“Oh, ew.” It’s supposed to be said in your head, but you say it out loud.

“What?” Robin asks. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah!” you say after a moment. “Yeah, sorry. I just got a little, uh, sidetracked. So, um, are you planning on going to school anywhere?”

Soon enough, it’s one in the morning, and the kids are getting tired. You are, too, and you yawn loudly.

“Let’s go, sleepyhead,” Steve says, holding out his hands to help you off the couch. You take them, swallowing the electricity in your stomach.

“You should come by more often!” Dustin grins.

“Yeah, we need more girls around,” Max says, and you smile back at her.

“You’re welcome in the party anytime,” Mike declares, and the others agree.

You could almost cry at how nice they are. “You guys will never know how… how much…” you sniffle. “How much this night has meant for me.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve says, rubbing your back. “Time to go, buddy.”

“You guys are the best!” you say through tears, and Steve shushes you gently, guiding you upstairs.

“Steve!” Dustin shouts, and bounds up behind him. Steve rolls his eyes and tells you to head out to the car.

“You better bring her around again.” Dustin squeezes his arm and Steve rolls his eyes once more.

“We mean it!” Will says. “She’s cool.”

“You guys don’t even like me this much,” Steve huffs, to which Robin replies, “Yes, because you’re a dingus. Y/N is cool.”

“Goodnight!” Steve groans, continuing upstairs.

He unlocks the car and you both get in.

“Thank you,” you whisper, eyes shining, “for taking me out.”

“Of course,” he hums. “Next time it can just be us, without kids and Robin.”

Your stomach flips and you ignore it again. “I’d really like to.”

You both make conversation as you head down the darkened streets. You think the town at night is beautiful and serene. Steve thinks it’s eerie and threatening. He really didn’t like going out at night much anymore, and he typically had to talk himself up if he was leaving somewhere past 9 pm. You notice the change in his energy, how he is suddenly gripping the steering wheel a bit too tight.

You begin to ask him if he’s alright, but a deer scampers across the road. It’s not very close, and maybe required just a slight brake, but Steve throws his arm out to pin you to your seat and slams on the brakes. The car slides to a halt and you slam back against the seat; thankfully Steve threw his arm over you, or you’d probably have a severe case of whiplash.

When the car stills, you look over at him, eyes wide and heart skipping. He looks like he aged 50 years in ten seconds. His eyes are huge, jaw clenched tightly. A crease on his forehead. His body is stiff and he is leaning forward, almost like he’s about to fight. He looks, quite honestly, like death.

“Steve,” you breathe. “Are you okay?”

Steve throws the car into park. He squeezes his eyes shut and blinks a few times, eventually relaxing in his seat. Although his body is relaxed, you can hear how his breathing is a quick staccato, not slow. He runs a hand through his hair once, twice, three times. It sounds like he’s drowning, and his eyes are filled with tears when he looks at you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers hoarsely. “I’m sorry – I thought –“

His eyes can’t focus. They run around in his head, back at the road, to you, to the steering wheel, to his hands, to the road again.

You realize he’s having a panic attack.

“Hey, hey,” you coo. “Look at me, Steve.”

He faces you, but his eyes are still moving rapidly, and his breathing is becoming quicker. You see him swallow hard.

“You’re safe,” you say, reaching out and taking a hand. “It was just a deer. You’re safe. I’m here.”

He nods stiffly. “No – I know that – I just thought….” I just thought it was a Demogorgon. No big deal. He clamps his eyes shut again and you see tears fall.

“Steve, look at me. Focus on me, okay?”

He nods lightly and does, and you see his pupils focus in on you.

“Breathe with me, alright? In and out.” You exaggerate your breathing, deeply in through the nose and out through the mouth. He tries to keep up and pace himself, but it takes a few tries.

“You’re doing great,” you say quietly, and squeeze his hand. “Can you pull the car over for me?”

He does as you ask, eyes scanning the road ahead. His bat is in the trunk (he figured he should hide it before you see it), and he considers getting out to grab it. You pull him back to reality.

“Look at me.” His eyes meet yours again. “I’m going to teach you something, okay? It’s based on your senses. Can you tell me five things you hear?”

He blinks. “I hear the engine… I hear your breathing… I hear the radio… I hear my breathing… I hear my heart beating.”

You nod. “Okay, good. Four things you can see?”

“Uh….” His eyes flick back to the road and you gently pull his head back to look at you.

“I’ll focus on the road, okay? Just tell me four things you see in the car.”

“I see you… I see my hands… I see the steering wheel… I see the light from the stereo.”

“Three things you smell?”

“My cologne, your perfume, gasoline.”

“Two things you can feel?”

“Your skin and the seat under me.”

You smile. “This one’s tough. One thing you can taste.”

Steve pauses. “Coca-Cola?”

“Perfect,” you say, squeezing his hand again. “Do you feel better?”

He does; he’s not fully grounded, but he’s feeling better than he did a few minutes ago. He can breathe normally again, and his body is a bit more relaxed. He nods and you let his hand go.

“You’re okay,” you repeat. “You’re safe.”

“I’m okay,” he breathes. He reaches up and wipes his eyes, laughing slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize.” You don’t really know what just happened, but you know whatever he’s going through must be tough. “Your feelings are valid. It’s okay to feel that way, Steve.”

Steve sighs heavily, and after a few minutes, he puts the car in drive.

“Don’t take me home,” you request. “I can walk.”

“What? No way. I’m taking you to your house.”

“Steve,” you say. “Sometimes you need to take care of yourself before you take care of others. I can walk, dude, it’s only 15 minutes, max.”

He wants to refute your claim. He wants to believe he’s strong enough to just take you home and forget about it all, but all he wants to do is crawl into bed and sleep until the afternoon. He just wants to forget. So he pulls into his driveway and shuts the car off. He sits there for a few moments before finally saying, “I’m sorry I ruined tonight.”

“Steve.” You can’t help but to laugh. “I haven’t been this happy in so long. I don’t care – I don’t mind that you got… spooked. And we don’t ever have to talk about it again. I don’t care what happens as long as I’m with you.”

The corners of his mouth perk up. “Oh no, Y/N. Don’t fall in love with me.”

You roll your eyes and nudge him, smiling. That’s the Steve you knew.

You reach into the center console, finding an old receipt and a pen.

“Here,” you say, scribbling. “Here’s my number.” You shove the receipt towards him, and he takes it.

Steve writes his number on the bottom of the receipt and rips it off. “And here’s mine. You better call me when you get home. Like, the minute you go through the door.”

“I promise.”

You both get out of the car.

“I really did have fun,” you say. “I hope I see you soon.”

He nods. Part of you wishes he would say it back, but you understand. As you’re walking off, he calls after you.

“Y/N!”

“Yeah?”

He licks his lips. “Thank you.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile and salute, continuing off into the night.

---------

You awake Monday morning at 1 am to your phone ringing. You quickly sit up in bed and grab it.

“Hello?”

“Y/N.” It’s Steve. “I need your help.”

Your eyebrows knit together, and you look at your clock. “Are you okay?”

“I….” He huffs. “I’m trying to make danishes for everyone at the station? But everything I do is wrong, and there’s flour everywhere—”

“It’s one in the god damn morning!” You exclaim. “We have work in seven hours.”

“Yeah,” he says, like you’re the idiot. “Why do you think I’m making them now?”

You close your eyes. You want to be annoyed, but it’s honestly hilarious. “Okay, Steve. I’ll be there in a few.”

You arrive and knock on the door, and you’re greeted by Steve. He is covered in flour, and he looks nearly as stressed as he was Friday night.

You gawk at him. “What—”

“Just – come in,” he insists, grabbing you and pulling you inside.

Steve has a really nice house. Or apartment, or whatever he wants to call it. He takes you through the living room, then dining room, and into the kitchen, where there is even more flour. It looks like a bomb went off.

“So,” he starts, pacing around the kitchen, creating tracks in the flour-covered floor. “I’m trying to make these, right? And it says to put flour and butter into a blender. And so I did. And like, it’s fine, it’s going great, but then I guess I added too much flour, and now it’s everywhere. And this fucking dough is supposed to chill for 6 hours and we have work in 7.”

“Where is your recipe?”

He hands you a sheet of paper and you scan over it.

“Steve,” you groan. “Are you even following this?” You look up at him. “How did you even manage to mix the yeast and water correctly?”

He leans on the counter and puts his head in his hands. “I don’t think I did.”

You burst into laughter. You can hardly keep yourself upright. Your ribs and jaw hurt, but you can’t stop. Steve seems annoyed at first, but then starts laughing with you.

“No matter what, you couldn’t have these done in the morning,” you say, wiping your eyes. “Why did you think this was a good idea?”

He shrugs hopelessly. “I just wanted to be nice, and I couldn’t sleep.”

You both resolve to cleaning up and starting again. You would make the dough and let it chill, and then continue making them that night.

You watch from afar, giving Steve tips and reading the directions out for him. He’s not super helpless when someone is directing him. When it comes time to fold the dough, though, he’s doing it wrong.

“No,” you say, jumping up and coming behind him. “You fold like this.”

You take his hand and help him get the technique right. After a few moments, your cheeks start to burn, and you feel that same chest-swelling feeling that you had at Mike’s house. You slow your movements and Steve follows, until you completely stop. He turns back to look at you, and you notice how close you are to him.

Suddenly, the phone rings. Steve drops the spatula he was using and hurries off into the living room, looking paler than usual.

“Hello?” you hear him ask. There’s a long pause before he says, “Do you want Y/N to come too?” Another pause. “Okay. We’ll be right there.”

He comes back into view and looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Who was it?” you ask, heart beating fast.

“It was the Chief. There’s a dead body at Rimborn Steelworks.”

--------

tags (message if you want to join!): @harrington-ofhawkins @wolfish-willow @gothackedalready

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #my fics #the partners #god this is so long rip to everyone who chooses to read it all #chapter summaries are so hard wtf

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its-pronounced-quoassoint · 5 years ago

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Power Rangers AU-Chapter 3

Pairings: romantic Logicality, Prinxiety, Demus, Remile

This Chapter Features: YouTuber!Patton, Patton centric story line

This Chapter Warnings: crying, angst, mentions of dead characters, reluctantcy, sympathetic Remus

Credit for this AU goes to @when-day-met-the-knight (specifically this post).

If you would like to be added to the taglist for this fic please let me know in reply!

First Previous Next

Chapter 3-Pink

Patton kept a diary. When he was younger he would stay up late at night, using pens to write in composition notebooks. Assigning different colors to different days of the week, doodling in the margins, dating every page in the top right corner, and taking time to think of a title for each day. At the bottom of every page Patton would rate how well the day was on a scale of one to five and doodle a little face that showed how he felt.

Keeping a diary was one of the few constants in Patton's life. After so much change and heartbreak, holding on to something, as silly as diary keeping, made Patton’s time a little more enjoyable.

When he received his first phone, Patton decided that a digital diary would be more convenient. He downloaded a simple note taking app, and began writing about his day there.

The advantage to a digital diary was he could write wherever he wanted. Patton sat on the bus to school, typing fervently. It was their first day back since the last attack and he had not gotten enough homework done as he would have liked. Patton was letting out some feelings onto his phone and listening to the chatter of the kids around him.

Patton is very aware of the fact that many of them were staring at him in awe. Especially the middle schoolers. Typically his audience on YouTube was middle schoolers. He knew having a few million subscribers got him attention and Patton had accepted that attention as part of his everyday life. It meant nothing to him now. A sort of bitter exchange. He didn’t feel the nervousness he used to when people approached him for pictures. The right feelings he got when young minds randomly appeared next to him and wanted to ask about being a YouTuber. However, that also meant he didn’t get the rush of happiness when some small kid praised or thanked him. He didn’t really feel that delighted feeling of pride anymore.

Patton typed on his phone until the bus pulled up to the high school. Patton stepped off the bus after almost tripping over several small kids in the bus isle. He began rolling up to the school, warm humid air hitting him. It had rained horribly the day before and him, along with several other fluffy haired people, were feeling the affects.

Patton opened the doors for a few high schoolers behind him and walked in. Heading for his locker immediately. After gathering his things Patton began taking his bag to his first hour.

“Hey Pat.” The familiar voice of Naomi, one of his close friends, greeted him.

“Hey Mi.” Patton smiled at her, moving a little in the hall so she could walk next to him.

“How was break?”

“Ugh, did not get any homework for Leed’s class done.” Patton rolled his eyes. “But, ya know, got some editing finished.”

“Well, I don’t think the teachers honesty expect us to have gotten anything done.” Naomi tried to soothe him.

“Yeah.” Patton sighed. They stepped into their shared first hour and continued to talk. A few more friends walked in and began talking with them, but Patton dropped away from them quickly.

He never felt particularly attached to the people in his school. It was hit or miss with people you talked to. Patton was very aware of his social standing as ‘the most popular person in high school’, but he attributed that to his YouTube channel’s success. It wasn’t like he didn’t have friends. He certainly had people wanting to be his friend. However, it was never the type of connection that Patton would see on tv. No best friend sleepovers, skipping class together, eating cookies late at night while watching Netflix. Patton wasn’t proud of the fact that he didn’t have a close friend like that, but he figured he should take what he gets.

Besides, he still had friends.

Lunch was an easy time for Patton. He typically sat with Naomi in the library. Sure that’s not what one would expect from a popular socialite like Patton, but the cafeteria was simply too loud. Hectic and scary were adjectives Patton often described lunch as. He didn’t eat much at lunch either. He never really ate much. There wasn’t a lot of time to eat.

Patton often spent his time listening to his friends’ problems, studying, doing something for the array of clubs he was in, or editing for YouTube. There wasn’t much time for anything else, but that was okay. Patton enjoyed doing all of those-besides studying-so it wasn’t like he missed anything. There was nothing to miss when he didn’t know of much else he could do.

Mondays were usually not the favorite day of the week for any student, never mind any person. However, they were Patton’s favorite. Why? Well, Mondays after school, Patton got to go down to the freshman biology teacher’s room and run the QSA at his school. He loved the QSA. He had been going since 8th grade, when he couldn’t technically go because he wasn’t in high school.

However, he dedicated a lot of time to the QSA and had become the president of the club in junior year. He was elated to be in it and was able to get together a team to spread the word about it and set up fun activities. It was one of the only things about school that Patton documented in his YouTube videos.

Patton didn’t like to talk about school too much for fear of it interfering with him graduating, but he was able to take videos of everything that happened with QSA. Much to the delight of his viewers.

Patton sat anxiously in 6th hour, awaiting the final bell that meant he could head down to the club room. Sadly though, sixth hour was just getting under way, so he would have to wait.

“Welcome back to sixth hour!” Patton’s calc teacher, Mrs. Ryans began. “I know school only had been a few weeks in when the attacks hit, and it essentially feels like the next semester, but we’ll be doing a small project!”

The class cheered a little. Projects for her class were typically easier than usual class work. She would often pair up students to work on it together, making it all the easier on Patton. Usually Mrs. Ryans paired Patton with Logan, who was more than happy to help Patton on the project. Patton loved partnering with Logan, he was understanding of Patton’s schedule and never got frustrated with Patton’s inability to meet in order to work on the project. Though Patton had heard he was quite the opposite with other partners in different classes.

“So, I didn’t really have the time nor the care to make a list of partners, so, your table partners will do for this.” Mrs. Ryans sighed.

Patton met Logan’s eye with a disappointed look and shrugged. Logan returned the sentiment before looking toward Remus next to him. Logan smacked the snickering idiot.

Patton turned to his table partner Dee and gave him a warm smile that was met with a side smile, reserved for Patton alone.

“Donnie can you pass out the papers?” Mrs. Ryans asked.

“Sure!” Donnie smiled and stood, grabbing the stack of papers that explained the assignment.

“Mrs. Ryans! Dee and I need to be partners.” Kayley Holt said a few rows behind Patton.

“Uh, no.” Mrs. Ryans trailed off giving Kayley a questioning look.

“But we have to be. We have co-dependency anxiety and we’re both super anxious without each other! We have to be partners.” Kayley demanded.

Patton looked over to Dee who held a blank expression rivaling Lady Gaga’s ‘poker face’. Patton could tell he was not happy with the arrangement Kayley was trying to pull.

“You know what Kayley, I know you’re lying to me about this so don’t even try and pull this stunt again, but fine, you and Dee can be partners. Just don’t whine when you two both get Cs on the assignment cause you didn’t work.” Mrs. Ryans pointed at Kayley. Then pointed at her table partner. “Roman, you’ll pair with Patton.”

Patton smiled over at Roman who dramatically smiled back.

“This will be due on Friday and I expect it typed, nothing handwritten! Heck knows you people write in hieroglyphics.” Mrs. Ryans dismissively waved her hand. “You will have Thursday in class to work on it if you need but if you don’t you can just have this as a free hour.”

Patton received the paper and began reading over the project. Dee and Roman switched places and the two dove into the work. Dividing it between themselves and scheduling times to meet to work on it.

“Are you free tonight after QSA?” Roman asked.

“Yeah, you?”

“Mhm. I don’t think Logan or Remus have anything going on either. We can all kinda work on it together at my place.” Roman turned to where Logan and Remus sat across the room. “Logan! Remus! Come here.”

Logan and Remus turned to Roman who was waving them over enthusiastically. The two look at each other before Logan shrugged and began walking their way. Logan and Remus sat down across from Patton and Roman, the four began talking about going to the twins’ home after QSA to work on the project.

“Well what am I supposed to do while you three are in your club?” Remus asked

“You can come if you want. We’re doing some stuff for the underclassmen for homecoming.” Patton told Remus.

“I though they called off Homecoming.” Roman looked at Pat.

“Well, they did,” Patton trailed off. “but the freshmen on the QSA group chat were so upset, I mean I couldn’t let them be so disappointed.”

“What did you do? Pay ‘em off?” Remus whispered.

“What?! No!” Patton whispered back. Not fully knowing why he was whispering, so he stopped. “I just argued to the superintendent that they deserved a Homecoming.”

“How? He never changes his mind.” Roman smiled.

“Well, I mean, I’m good at convincing people, I guess.” Patton shrugged. “But yeah, homecoming is back on.”

“None of us go to homecoming though.” Roman pointed out.

“Yeah, but the freshmen and sophomores like going and some juniors go and I know I don’t have time to go, but they deserve some fun. The town’s ten pm curfew doesn’t exactly give any kids the chance to hang out with their friends like normal teenagers.” Patton explained.

“Well, it’s nice for you to do something for them. Having experiences with their friends, like homecoming, will make it all the easier to deal the trauma of the attacks.” Logan finally said.

“Thank you Logan.” Patton nodded. “Now, is that all settled. We just head to your place after QSA?”

“Yep.” Roman nodded.

Patton smiled at him and began texting his foster mother the plan. Class ended a while after that and the four began their walk to the science wing of the school. Heading to Mr. Travis’s-the QSA faculty advisor-room. The room was already full of kids from every grade. Eager freshmen were talking nervously to their friends while the other two seniors looked around commenting on how they were used to it by now.

“Hey guys!” Patton said as he entered.

“Patton!” Jana, a sophomore, squeaked when he entered. “I passed the project!”

“I knew you would! You’ve gotta stop doubting yourself.” Patton congratulated her.

“I know, I know.” She giggled. “Camera?” Jana put out her hands expectantly.

“Here!” Patton walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out the camera he used for filiming. He handed it to Jana who giddily heded over to tripod and began setting up eqquipment. "Okay everyone, before I begin with what we're doing today can we set up the tables into one long table?"

The group got up from their chairs, still chatting, and began arranging the tables the way Patton had asked. Once done helping, Patton walked to the 'head' of their make-shift table and sat down. Jana started up the cameras and sound and Patton began.

"Homecoming is back on, which means another year of having to find a date, dress nice, and so on. So, what I’ve decided to do, is spend this week, next week, and however much longer making flower crowns.” Patton announced. “I know it’s a little childish, but pride flag flower crowns are so much fun to make and afterward you get really good at them”

“I love it.” Cami, one of the juniors said.

“Thanks Cami.” Patton smiled. “Make some for yourself, make some for our friends, make pride flag ones, make any color ones, doesn’t matter, just use all the flowers. I printed out a bunch of instructions on different types of crowns and other jewelry you can make with the flowers. Just have fun with it!”

Mr. Travis entered the room with loads of flowers in his hand and his daughter trailing behind, also carrying many flowers.

“Here we are.” He grunted, setting them down.

“Thanks Mr. Travis.” Patton smiled. “Let’s get started!”

The club dispersed into groups and began making crowns, chatting with their friends, and goofing around. Patton was pulled over to a group of sophomores and freshmen who wanted to talk.

He looked over to see Logan, Roman, and Remus talking quietly while making the crowns. Patton smiled, even Remus was making a pride flag flower crown.

After some time he walked over to Logan, Roman, and Remus. The three stopped talking quickly and focused a little too intensely on the flower crowns.

QSA ended far too quickly for Patton’s liking, but he and the three others left for Roman’s house soon. They talked the whole way, mainly Remus, and were very quickly entering the home.

Patton and Roman went to the living room and lazily began talking about the project. Logan and Remus went to the dining room and Logan attempted to make progress while Remus threw Cheetos in the air and tried to catch them in his mouth.

Patton looked around the house. It was huge. Large eggshell white walls and intimidating furnishings. It barely looked lived in.

“Hey Roman,” Patton started, “can you point me to the bathroom?”

“Yeah sure, the closest one is just down that hallway.” Roman pointed to a dark hallway. “I’m pretty sure it’s on the right. You’ll find it.”

“Thanks.” Patton smiled.

He got up and headed that way, not quite sure what he was doing. He didn’t need to go to the bathroom, but something about the house felt so familiar. He had to find out why. Why did being in the home feel off yet inviting. It didn’t make any sense. Patton has always been good at feelings. Knowing what they are in him and observing them in others. This though, this was different.

Patton walked down the hallway toward a door, feeling the pull even more intensely. Every step was pulling him forward. Why was it so familiar?

Patton opened the door and stepped into an extremely dark room. Patton’s eyes could barely adjust. Without realizing it he had entered the room and was running his hand along the objects in the room. The feeling grew to an overwhelming point and Patton tried to pull away and go back to the living room, but to no avail. Then something grabbed him. It wrapped around his wrist and tightened into a perfect fit. Patton was finally able to pull his hand back and looked at the thing on his wrist.

A bracelet. Glowing pink and swirling around his wrist.

Patton screamed.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Patton continued. He just stared at the bracelet in horror trying to get it off him as fast as possible.

Patton distantly heard Logan call his name. Pounding footsteps headed his way and the lights around him were flipped on.

Patton barely noticed, he just focused on tearing the bracelet off of him.

“Patton?!” Logan yelled for his attention.

“Get it off, get it off, oh please just get this thing off of me.” Patton cried out.

“What?” Roman started, but stopped when Patton turned and showed them the bracelet. “Oh.”

“Please just get it off, please, please,” Patton suddenly stopped, staring at Remus. “You-you’re-“

“Remus!“ Roman chided, noticing the mace he had in his hand.

“What? We didn’t know why Patton was screaming! It could have been a minion.”

“Jeez Remus.” Roman shook his head.

“You’re the Green Ranger?” Patton asked shakily. “Which one are you Logan?”

“I-uh blue.” Logan hurried out an answer.

“Logan! You can’t just tell every pretty boy you’re the Blue Ranger!” Roman smacked Logan on the shoulder.

“I’m not!” Logan’s face turned a bright red.

“Oh this is a disaster.” Roman sighed.

“I know.” Logan looked away.

“Look, I don’t care! I won’t tell anyone, I promise! You can trust me! Just please get this off of me! I don’t want to be a Ranger please!” Patton begged.

“Patton-“

“Can you take this off or not?” Patton asked, tears welling in his eyes.

“I-uh-no.” Logan stuttered. “We don’t know how.”

“Fine.” Patton stood and looked at Roman. His expression hard as tears began falling ever so slightly. “I need to borrow your car.”

“What?” Roman asked startled.

“I need to borrow your car, drive to Thomas, and get him to pull this horrible thing off my wrist.” Patton said, his voice steady.

“Patton we-“

“Please.” Patton broke down into a quiet sob. “Please just let me-“

“We’ll drive you. It’s unsafe to drive when you’re upset like this.” Logan said quickly. “Roman let’s go.”

“Ok-okay.” Roman turned and headed out of the room.

The four quickly ran out of the house and into a car. Roman started it up and began driving. Remus sat quietly in the passenger seat, looking at Patton nervously. Logan and Patton sat in the back, Patton silently crying into Logan’s chest. Logan wrapped an arm around Patton’s shoulders, holding him soothingly.

They pulled up to Thomas’s house and frantically ran to the front door.

“Thomas! Thomas! We need you open up!” Roman knocked on the door loudly.

The door swung open and a little kid stood there worried. “What’s going on?”

“Emile! Where’s your dad?” Roman asked frantically.

“Coming coming! What is it?! Is someone hurt! What happened?” Thomas asked. He looked at the four.

Remus and Roman stood awkwardly on the small porch. And a little ways behind them, Logan held a crying Patton.

“Wha-“ Thomas stopped himself. “Patton?”

“Thomas!!” Patton pulled away from Logan and raced to Thomas. He fell into Thomas’s arms and sobbed harder.

“Oh Pat. It’s okay I-I know.” Thomas tried soothing him. “Come on lets all go inside.”

Thomas led the four inside. Patton collapsed on the couch and looked around, drying his tears.

“Thomas, get it off of me.” Patton started shakily.

“Patton, you know that’s not how it works.”

“I don’t care. It needs to come off. I’m not breaking my last promise with Talyn. I won’t do it.” Patton shook his head. Once again grabbing at the bracelet and trying to pull it off.

Emile put a hand on Patton’s bracelet to stop him from tanking at it.

“Patton, you know Talyn would be proud of you no matter what. They knew that it wasn’t a choice you got to make. You were chosen. They would be so proud to know you’re the next Pink Ranger.” Thomas smiled.

“No!” Patton’s tears started up yet again. “I promised! I said I would never! I told them I would never become a Ranger. It’s dangerous and heartbreaking and it tore Talyn away from me! It took Joan and Talyn from me! It took them both and it almost took you!”

“Patton, I know.” Thomas sighed, stepping closer to Patton who only pulled away.

Roman, Remus, and Logan stood in the kitchen eyeing the scene and trying to understand whatever was going on.

“I can’t do this. I won’t do this.” Patton stated firmly.

“Patton, don’t you remember when you were younger and all you wanted to be was a Ranger? You were so excited to be everything Talyn was and more.”

“I was young. And stupid. And I still am. I’m not ready for this. Talyn didn’t want this.”

“Talyn knew that this would happen. They knew you would be Ranger. It was simply your destiny. You know that. We all knew that.” Thomas sighed. “Talyn just didn’t want you to feel pressured. Talyn knew the risks and didn’t want you to go through the pain.”

“If it weren’t for the morphers, Talyn, and Joan, and Valerie, and Terrence, and Dominic would all still be here! You wouldn’t have been the only Ranger for the past ten years! You wouldn’t be doing this on your own.” Patton cried.

“Pat-“

“Thomas, please just get it off of me.” Patton held out his wrist to Thomas. “Please. I can’t do this, please.”

"Patton. I-I-"

"Pat, please." Emile took Patton's jaw in his hand. "I know it hurts, but think about what you're doing. You know you can't take it off. Once it's on you, you can't just take the morpher off. It's there and there's nothing you can do. So, what you need to do, is live up to that amazing loving person the morpher chose. The morpher chose you because you bring heart and care and compassion to the team. You're made for this role and I know you can do it. Though you may not feel it now, it's still there."

"Emile-“

“When we were so much younger do you remember pretending to be Rangers together. You were always the brave Pink Ranger, swooping in your save me from the Dragon Witch. You just wanted to help me. You’ve always wanted to be a Ranger and you’ve always wanted to help people. Please don’t give up on that. You know for a fact Talyn only said that to try and keep you safe. No matter what you’ve promised them, or Joan, or Megan, you want to do this.” Emile stopped him. “You don’t have to be afraid. You’ve got a team by your side.”

They sat in silence. Patton’s tears had dried on his face and he desperately tried to talk but found no sound coming out. His chest heaved and ached. Patton could only squeeze Emile’s hand in his and sniffle.

“I’m sorry.” Patton squeaked. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. Pat of course you’d feel this way. No one expects you to immediately want to be a Ranger. Especially after what happened with Talyn. No one blames you for feeling this way.” Thomas assured him.

“Thank you, I-I know. I know it’s okay. It just still doesn’t feel that way. It doesn’t feel-feel-feel-“

“I’m sure it doesn’t. But it’s okay.” Emile whispered.

Patton collapsed into Emile, just crying into the smaller boy. “It hurts so bad.”

Emile nodded and ran a soothing hand through Patton’s hair. As Patton continued trying to control his sobbing he felt more arms wrap around him. He shifted to see Roman, Remus, and Logan holding him gently, too gently. It was like they though one squeeze would break Patton in half.

“You’re going to be the best Pink Ranger to ever fight.” Roman told him.

“Thank you I-I’m okay.” Patton smiled sweetly at the boys hugging him.

They pulled away, but stayed close.

“I’m going to be okay.” Patton said a little shakily but calm.

I’m ready. Patton wrote late that night in his diary. I’m going to be okay.

Taglist:

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors@maddarc@pheonix-inside-reblogs@thisismysanderssidesblog@almost-all-my-ships-are-gay@mostpeopleannoyme@the-smol-est@i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake@nadja-chamack16@too-bi-too-function

#patton sanders #YouTuber!Patton #power rangers au #thatsthat24 #logicality #prinxiety #demus #remile

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hes-writer · 6 years ago

Text

A Cheat IV (alt ending)

An alternate ending to A Cheat series where they end up together.

Summary: Harry regrets his actions and Y/N forgives

Warnings: slight angst, fluff

Word count: 1.5k

Based on: a happy ending for Harry and y/n!!

@ynm1505 @imamahems4life

After a few months of separation from the one and only Harry Styles, did Y/N ever move on from him? Yes and no. She was slowly coming out of the shell that Harry catapulted her into because of his self-destructing actions but was also more cautious of anything and everything. Each person she meets had to pass her hierarchal exam where she observed if that person was worth Y/N sharing her past with. Having a relationship with a pop star certainly abided more people her way, most of them being fake and only mean to use her to get closer to Harry. Even when he wasn’t around anymore, he was still influencing her to act on things with him in mind.

And no, she wasn’t getting over him because it was more of like a seesaw progress, she kept going back and forth between being over him and missing him too much that she really doesn’t consider herself to be over over, you know? She has gone on dates after him, there were some really great guys out there and she felt a connection between maybe two guys, but there wasn’t any sparkle—at least not the one she and Harry had. Although she felt excited going on a date with Alan from time to time, she didn’t exactly feel as thrilled as she was with Harry. She didn’t feel exhilarated with anybody else (thus far) and she was agitated at herself. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t seem to get him out of her thoughts. Just seeing an apron reminded her of him and how he ‘used to be a baker’. Y/N was annoyed.

Speaking of Alan, he had admitted his feelings for Y/N a while back adding on that it was okay if she didn’t feel the same. After all, it was worth a shot. And trust her, she strained her beliefs to tell herself that maybe she could like Alan, see him in a different way other than a best friend type of thing. She’s still trying her absolute hardest and Alan understood that. Feelings don’t just change in an instant –even though it was more than six months since that happened. She scolds herself sometimes when she’s alone because Alan is such a good guy and he’s perfect for her, but she can’t seem to give her heart away—because Harry still has it.

So they’ve been exclusive for a few weeks, Y/N was testing the waters, going deeper and deeper to see how far she can go before she cowers back in complete abandonment of a new relationship. Her heart was light, she had forgiven Harry for cheating on her. She was personally really really happy and maybe it’s got to do with the fact that she hasn’t seen him face-to-face ever since, but it’s almost as if she has put it behind her. Y/N was rejuvenating herself, as silly as it sounds, in the best way she knew how. That was by throwing away all the negativity and only focusing on the positive. Y/N didn’t like cheaters but she also wasn’t very fond of holding grudges. She believes that people could change with time and six months is a long time for Harry to reflect on his past.

—–

Alan and Y/N decided to go grocery shopping to bake some cupcakes. At times, there were some paparazzi who still deem her important that they felt the need to photograph her whereabouts, even though she’ll probably end up on a postage-sized column on the paper. Not to put herself down, but she was an ordinary girl and she wasn’t dating Harry anymore so she didn’t understand why they still correlated her to him.

“Okay so I just ran out of flour so I’m gonna get that,” Y/N hums as she directs Alan what to get. “I’ll get the dry ingredients and you can get the icing, eggs, vanilla, all the sweet stuff, yeah?”

“Yup! I got it, holler at me if you need me to reach something from the top shelf,” He winks at Y/N knowing that standing on her tippy toes wasn’t enough to grab the bag of powder.

She slaps his arm slightly, amused at his joke and playing offended because of his height shaming.

“Pffft, watch me do this on my own,”

He rolls his eyes before walking away, clutching his stomach from laughing too much.

——

“Baking powder, check. Baking soda, check. Icing sugar, check. Ooh, flour!” She gasps, halting. She can’t believe that she almost forgot the flour.

There was only one thing that stood between her and delicious cupcake making and that was the shelf. She could see the yellow bag towering over her, tilting a bit as if to tease her for not having enough height to reach it. She huffs, going on her tiptoes even though she knows she won’t even come close.

Y/N stresses to put her hands on her hips, mouth opening to do a small whisper-shout for Alan but before she could, a gruff voice comes to her aid.

“Need help?”

She turns around, mouth dropping open in surprise. She had to grasp the shopping cart handles to steady herself from a heart attack she felt upon seeing her ex-boyfriend, Harry.

“Oh, hi! Yes, please,” she feels herself do an awkward wave, giggling uncomfortably.

He slowly walks over to where she was reaching for the flour. His large hand easily grabs hold of the item, handing it to her.

“Here ya’ go,” Harry delivers her a charming smile and she swore her heart just melted.

Funnily enough, this wasn’t how she pictured seeing Harry again. And this wasn’t how she imagined feeling. It was like seeing an old friend after a long time; relived and joyful to see them glowing. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ears, looking down at the tips of her shoes, unsure of what to say to him.

“I’ve missed you. Can we tal–,” Harry begins.

“I didn’t hear any hollering so I’m guessing you got it all by yourself, little Y/N,” Alan strolls over to her isle, not noticing Harry’s figure and gives a light rub on her head messing up her hair. She pouts at him, mentally counting the items in his arms to see if he got everything.

“No, no–uh, Harry helped me,” She gestures towards Harry, fingers attaching themselves to the back of her neck.

Harry gives a polite wave and a nod, Alan shifts his glance towards him lips set firmly in a thin line.

“Ahh, Styles what are you doing here?”

Harry lifts his cart; “I’m shopping,”

There was a silence between the three, Y/N not knowing what to say.

“Actually, Y/N can I talk to you?” Harry questions her, hoping that she’d let him. Y/N nods, but Alan stays planted on the spot beside her. “Alone?”

She turns to Alan whispering something in his ear and he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

“You sure?” Alan looks deeply into her eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort. She nods again.

Harry raises his brow and Y/N nods to signal that she was ready when he was. He starts walking towards a different aisle, expecting Y/N to follow him. Just before she could take a step, Alan calls her name softly, vulnerable.

“You still love him don’t you?”

Y/N tries to stall her answer but inevitably nods. He deserves to know the truth, even when it hurts. Alan sighs.

“Yes, I do. I’m sorry, Al”

“It’s okay, Y/N. You can’t control your feelings,” He pats her shoulder, seeing Harry stop and turn around when he realized that Y/N wasn’t following him from his peripherals. “Besides, I met a girl,”

Y/N gasps, pushing his chest lightly. “What! Why didn’t you tell me you goof,”

Alan laughs at her excitement, nudging her hip with his. “I’ll tell you all about her later. But for now, Prince Charming looks pissed at me for keeping you,” He winks at Y/N.

“Thank you, Alan” She gets engulfed by his long arms, feeling murmur something in her hair.

“Go tell him you love him,”

Y/N jogs over to Harry with a smile but he doesn’t look too happy. He pays for his four items quickly before walking over to the parking lot area near his car.

“How long have you guys been dating?”

“Wha-? Alan and I are not together,” Harry’s eyes widen at the misconception he’d conjured up.

“Oh…”

There was a pregnant pause before Y/N decided to shoot her shot. She takes a deep breath, telling herself that it’s okay if he didn’t feel the same.

“I still love you, Harry.” She bites her lip, looking nervous into his green eyes while his only stared back at her without saying anything.

“Wait I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s fine you kno–-hmph”

Her lips were clamped shut with Harry’s plump ones. Hands finding her waist and pulling her body impossibly closer to his. It was a short kiss but enough to show each other how they felt.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

#harry #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #angst

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fantasyizlife · 5 years ago

Note

Ok so I'm always extreeeeeemely shy asking about prompts and stuff, but honest to God I'm having the worst day in a while and I really need an escape and a distraction of some kind. T_T So yeah, given that I always project my issues on my idols' lives (lol), I'll ask you for a Charles Leclerc angst fic in which he's having a very bad panic attack and another driver, Max or Lewis maybe, calms him down. Hope you'll like the prompt, if you don't please don't feel forced to write it. Hugs

Flight or fight

Come on Charles you got this!

It's a new race in Spa!

It won't be like Germany its a few drops of rain!

Fuck fuck FUCK, keep your shit together!

The fat droplets of rain confirmed the weather would be clear in a matter of minutes. The circuit would be dry well before qualifying due to the pleasant warm sun shining on Leclerc's face. But the negative energy now running rampant in Charles veins wouldn't shut up. He was suited up and trying to not pace the back of the garage but was failing at that even more so.

"I can't let everyone down again! Come on Charles!" He whispers to himself as his breathing gets away from him. He can feel his heart pounding in his temples now.

Charles closes his eyes and wipes his face, it's only 68 degrees today, he shouldn't be this damp. FUCK! Why does it feel like everyone is staring at him? Charles pulls on the neck of his collar as far as the fabric will go. It's not enough and the panic starts to rise in his throat. It's going to choke him to death!

He glances around the garage and sees everyone scurrying around at normal pace. Noone is looking at him but he's well aware that every camera in a hundred miles can be pointed on him every second he stands here. Charles pinches his nose hard before opening his eyes. His tingling fingers are wet with tears.

Fight or flight are what drivers like him are trained for. Charles has always been a fighter but this here was something of lately he couldn't control. In a split second Charles pushed the bile down and used the surge of energy to get his feet moving before he passed out, disappointing everyone again. He has to dig deeper for the flight aspect of his training.

He makes it clear across the back of Mercedes garage and uses sheer willpower to find the best way to hide himself from what was sure to become the Charles Leclerc shit show! The loss of peripheral vision left him blinded to Lewis Hamilton who now frightened him with an unexpected grip on his right arm. Charles tried to break his hold, tried to focus on Hamilton's lips as he spoke to him. Why the fuck did he sound so far away?

Lewis patted Charles on the back and pulled him close letting him rest his body weight against him. It was only then that Leclerc felt his knees weakening. Lewis practically carried him to a soft surface and let him go. Charles pulled his knees up to his chest and his hid his face as Lewis closed and locked the door.

His body was trembling and tears fell without warning. This was it, the end of the legacy before he ever got it started. He couldn't hold it in anymore, even if he wanted to. Mattia insisted he see the teams psychologist and he had worked hard to hide his issues, passing the tests with just enough to satisfy Ferrari. The long summer break hadn't done him any good either.

"I'm so sorry dad, please forgive me." Leclerc said as the soft surface dipped under the added weight of Hamilton.

"Hey Charles, sit up and take some deeper breaths." Lewis said soft slipping a box of tissue under his knees. Charles shook his head up and down and grabbed a fist full pressing the tissue tightly to his drowning vision. His chest so full of pressure he couldn't catch his breath. This was bad! The worst he ever felt since the passing of his father, before that breakdown was Jules. The very thought made him nauseous. If he could vomit surely he would welcome it, now he was dry heaving.

"Here mate swirl it around and spit it out, you got this." Lewis encouraged handing him his Mercedes bottle. Charles didn't fight it, he took the help. A few swishes and the heaving stopped. Lewis dabbed a wet cloth to the back of his neck and let it rest against his forehead.

Charles tried to keep his eyes open as the situation came into focus. He just lost his shit in front of F1s chosen one! He shook his head in denial but there was no denying it. He needed to thank him and get over to Binotto!

"Hamilton, thanks man..I need to uh go talk to the team." He tried to stand up and his body wouldn't allow it. He was now physically and mentally weak. Lewis unwrapped a pine nut and raisin bar before handing it to him.

"Look prince of Ferrari, take a minute. We have plenty before quali, promise or I wouldn't be here."

Charles took notice in the way Lewis genuinely smiled at him. He was relaxed and seemed to be offering him help so he simply nodded and took a bite. His mouth too dry to swallow just yet so he took his time chewing it. After a few bites and moments of silence Lewis spoke to him.

"You need to think about what you want before you throw in the towel and tell your team about this."

Charles raised his tired eyes to Lewis's and gave him his full attention.

"Its not lost to me mate. Your out here with heavier weight on your shoulders than any of us, I knew it way before Ferrari signed you."

"I just can't seem to escape my own shadow Ham...I want to be good enough..I want to make everyone proud of me."

"You see that's the problem, you want this for everyone but yourself Leclerc. I see you constantly compared to Jules, I see you always honoring him. Nothing wrong with any of that except when you forget that it's you who got you here, your hero to zero attitude only adds to that stress of you thinking your letting your own father down....kid, your breaking my heart and everyone else's by breaking yours. Your father will forever be proud of you. No amount of wins or losses will ever change that Charles."

Lewis stood and got him another cool cloth. Charles looked at the floor thankful he had all his vision back.

"Your team, the fans...they have plenty to love about you before you ever win your first race. It's why your "the prince of Ferrari"

Lewis smiled using air quotes to put the silliness on the phrase Charles has seen many times in front of his name. It felt great to be smiling at all this, he had been searching for the light in his darkness so long he had given up, so he thought.

"You deserve to be in that seat because of your good looks and even greater driving ability! Charles you have to trust in yourself to be that man. Believe in yourself to beat me, uh but could you wait until next year maybe?"

Charles chuckled as the sky over his head busted open and shined for him once again. He closed his eyes and tried to see if the dark clouds of comparison were still looming and to his relief they weren't. His smile got so big it hurt.

"You think you might be ready to give me a hell of a run today? I know I'm ready to race against F1s next champ!"

Lewis held out his arm and Charles gripped his hand as he pulled him into a hug that had such a powerful meaning behind it.

"Thank you Ham, I won't forget this. Ever."

"I'm counting on it, just remember it when your team gives you that plan C shit. Be the man with your own plan, fuck them!"

A big thank you to @iammany for allowing me to try my best at my first one shot that shows every human goes through these crippling situations. I seriously want to just hug our Charles right now!

#request #anxitey #Charles Leclerc #ferrari god #ferrari #Leclerc #formula ones finest #angst #leclerc angst #ferrari is not my friend #love them #Formula One #F1 #my fangirl heart #my fanfiction #send asks

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sparklyaxolotlstudent · 6 years ago

Text

Karma Chameleon: The Finale.

AKA I can’t write drama to save my life. I’m sorry.

ENJOY!

-------------------------

“Ugh!” Adrien threw his bag at his bed, ignoring the protest coming from inside.

“Hey, watch it kid, I was taking a nap!” protested Plagg, floating out of the bag.

“I can’t believe them! Chloe provokes Lila into akumatization and somehow I’m the bad guy?”

Adrien kept ranting, pacing around his room. Plagg only occasionally nodded, while he ate his cheese. “Are you done?” He asked once Adrien had made a pause. Adrien glared at him.

“I really don’t need your sarcasm right now, you lazy cat.”

Adrien’s words felt icy, something Plagg was definitively not used to. But he knew this boy, and he also knew that he should have said something earlier. Uncharacteristically for Plagg, he placed his cheese in the plate, which surprised Adrien, and then floated directly to his face.”

“I’m sorry ” It was a simple statement, and Plagg had said it while putting his hands on what would be his hips, trying to look all business like.

“What?” Adrien was confused. He was expecting a scolding from Plagg, not an apology.

“I’m sorry I have let your attitude go unchecked for so long Adrien Agreste. I should know better than to let a human teenager become this entitled.”

“What? What are you talking about? Entitled? I’m not entitled.”

Plagg sighed. He really really didn’t like to play the stern father. Or any other figure of authority. He was destruction, for Tikki’s sake!

“Remember when you tried to manipulate me into introducing you to Master Fu?”

“Manipulate? I deserve to know the same things that Ladybug knows!”

“That might be true, but you did it while an Akuma was flooding the city. While people were drowning”

Adrien opened his mouth, but really couldn’t refute what Plagg had said. He hadn’t stopped to think in the implications when he had done that day; after all, he still got to meet Master Fu.

“Ladybug’s power fixed that” said Adrien weakly. Even he knew it was a lame excuse.

“They came back to life, yes, but the trauma of drowning didn’t magically go away.”

“But…”

“Adrien, for once, listen to me. I’m not finished, and I don’t know how much I can maintain being this serious”

Adrien closed his mouth. Plagg being serious was a bit scary.

“Being the Holder of the Miraculous of the Black Cat is a duty, yes, nothing says you can’t enjoy its perks, but what you have to do come before what you want to do. No whats, no buts, no ifs. You duty is to stop Hawk Moth first and foremost, to protect people, not to throw a temper tantrum because you didn’t got what you wanted.”

“But Ladybug…”

“Ladybug was told not to tell. It wasn’t her secret. Would you like if your friend… glasses boy told everyone stuff you have told him in private? She got to know him because very special circumstances forced her kwami to do it.”

“But…”

“And I understand your frustration, I really do, but there’s the other times you have acted like a brat while an Akuma was attacking and wreaking havoc on the city”

“What? I never”

“That Ice Cream Akuma? When you were acting all pissy at Ladybug because she didn’t go to a date she said she wasn’t going because she already had plans? Not to mention you also ditched your friends to make that dinner”

Adrien was silent. Plagg’s words were stinging him in the worst ways. He had acted like that and he didn’t even notice it at the time. “She would love me if she gave me the chance”

Plagg had to use all his will to not facepalm in the wall. That would surely destroy the whole manor.

“Adrien. While that might be true, and I’m not saying it is, that’s not your decision to make. Ladybug doesn’t owe you anything more than collaborate to defeat the Akumas, and maybe a bit of friendship, but that is all. I have had cats that weren’t even on friendly terms with their ladybugs and they still got the job done.”

“Oh, so now I’m the worst Black Cat ever!”

Plagg noted the bitter tone. He really hated being the serious one, and he would make Adrien pay for this in camembert.

“Adrien” Plagg sighed, and then forced himself into Adrien’s field of vision. “I love you with all my heart, and if you make me repeat this, I will deny it and make you suffer with 700 years of bad luck. You are one of the most unique Black Cats I have had in my care, you’re brave, nice and always put Ladybug’s safety before yours… not always a virtue, but we’ll work on that. That’s why you acting like you have been, is so… odd. You’re a good kid, PLEASE keep that.”

“Thanks” Adrien was barely audible. Having Plagg acting like this was freaking him out, but in a good way.

“Now now, no need to get all mushy… but I do have to ask. Why side with Lila of all people?”

Adrien wiped a tear. “I wasn’t siding with Lila”

“You basically disowned Chloe.”

“I just want everyone to get along! What Chloe did seriously messed Lila”

“Lila was trapped in her own web of lies. And Chloe has done much worse than what she did today”

“But she wasn’t doing anyone any harm!”

“Except for Marinette and the tomato kid. And the ladyblog’s credibility would have been destroyed.”

“People don’t change just because you confront them.” Said Adrien defensively. “I tried. I told Chloe a lot of times, way before I met you. She just kept being Chloe. I tried again and only managed to get her butler akumatized. And my father. He was like that way before mom… He never changed. I know people don’t change”

“Still, Lila might not have changed, but people would have stopped believing her lies. She would have been akumatized sooner, but still, you should have said something”

“If I had confronted Lila, everyone would have shunned me too!” yelled Adrien, a little too loud. Fortunately, everyone in the manor was busy with their own stuff.

“Oh… Oh!” Plagg’s face went from stern to a sad realization. He approached Adrien, tentatively. He was really bad at this mushy stuff and really wished that that pony kwami of friendship or the bear of love were here instead of him. He would even settle for the kwami of fluffiness. He wasn’t sure one existed, but with the internet the way it was, it was entirely possible for humans to have come with that one. “Adrien, it’s okay. You can’t control how people feel about you, and you shouldn’t worry about that.”

“You don’t get it. I have been lonely all my life. I only had Chloe as a friend!”

“I’m the anthropomorphic representation of destruction. I know how it feels for people to hate you. Every time sometimes decays, runs down, every house that falls, every thing that explodes? They blame it on me instead of what caused it. They love Tikki, even if she created Hydras, and Chimeras and all manners of monster, but then they blamed the destruction those monsters created on me.”

Adrien looked up to Plagg. He was still unsure at how to feel about having an open talk with him.

“I know you just see me as a lazy freeloader, and I don’t blame you. I do enjoy the easy life, but should know better than that. At the very least, I should be able to hear you out. I’m bad at this stuff, but I will try my best””

“People… people who matter will NOT abandon you. At least not voluntarily. So maybe your class mates would have turned on you like they turned on Marinette due to that Mop girl lies, but you know Chloe would have jumped at your defense. Marinette too. And that Tomato boy would have been on your side. And you honestly believe Glasses dude would have abandoned you?”

Adrien was speechless. He was barely able to shook his head “no, they wouldn’t”

“Friendship is about trusting, about support and supporting. Glass… Nino even got akumatized because your dad didn’t let you have a birthday party. How many people have been akumatized for someone else?”

Adrien wanted so badly to reply with ‘Miss Bustier’ but that was not the point that Plagg was trying to make.

“I know your schedule is really packed, but you should still make time for your friends to get some stress relief. And talk to Master Fu. He’s 180 years old, he will be able to listen! And probably be better than this silly dumb cat”

“You’re not dumb” Adrien approached Plagg and hugged him as best as he could.

“Just let’s not make this a periodical thing; you’re ruining my style.”

Adrien wiped a tear from his face and gave Plagg a small smile.

“That being said, you still should apologize to them… And to Ladybug too, for how you’ve been acting.”

Adrien was about to protest but knew Plagg was right. He did need the stress relief, but also needed to work on his attitude, especially his one sided crush on Ladybug. Maybe Kagami was right after all and he should change targets. Not Kagami herself, but maybe someone else. Maybe a good friend.

---------------

THE END

I won’t write Adrien apologizing because, again, I can’t write angst, and it would just be rehash of the apology that Alya and Nino gave to Marinette. Adrien might slip in future fics, but at least Plagg will be quick to call him out.

Chloe too. She’s still a sassy bitch, but she will try to use her bitchiness for the Greater Good. And Marc is a good influence on her. Speaking of Marc, I want to write him with some friends of his own class, even if I have to make a ton of OCs to achieve this. And the Trials of Marinette will continue until I make a chapter for each kwami or I run out of ideas, whichever happens first.

I’m also playing with the idea of Nathaniel knowing Marinette is Ladybug(His “get Ladybug” dialogue was ambigous like that)

And I really really REALLY want to write some dialogue for Juleka and Luka calling each other names like “buttface”, “purple booger” “Lezzy McGuire”, “Jonas Brother Reject” and other such things.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #ml fanfic #ml karma chameleon #adrien agreste #plagg

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ohmytheon · 6 years ago

Text

Karma in Retrograde (20)

title: Karma in Retrograde

summary: When Dabi is hit by a de-aging quirk, he’s turned back to a 16 year-old U.A. Gen Studies student with self-esteem and parent issues, a destructive quirk, and no memory of the last five years. To help the Dabi of the past, present, and future, he is placed with Class 1-A. There, they must all face the question of whether he can change or if his destiny is already set in stone.

– Chapter 20: Class 1-A decies to tackle the Aizawa Clothes problem with Ryouta.

Lanni notes: This is a long af post and I’m sorry to everyone on mobile! This chapter did not go through Misty's usual super heavy beta'ing, but she decided that my writing was "postable". lmao You all deserve a break from the angst. Seriously, you really do. I mean, there's never a full break from angst because Todorokis gonna Todoroki, but this is definitely one of the crackier chapters. Also it's ridiculously long, but there wasn't a good place to cut it in half. I wrote the first three-fourths and, judging by how much I wrote, you can tell that I had a blast. It honestly didn't feel like 12k. There was just something really great about writing Ryouta in this scenario and, while it seems really silly, I think it pushed his character forward a lot - both with himself and the class. Also, there is a scene at the end that might come off as particularly cracky, but, well, it's based off experiences that both Misty and I have done. I will say that my family made a night out of it. Maybe I loved this chapter so much because I related to it a lot. I don't know. I just hope you all enjoy reading it. Oh, one more thing: Uraraka is a goddamn hero.

We've also got some new art for the fic! (Bless ya'll!) mucha.rt somehow pulled an image of Ryouta and Dabi right out of my head. Here's an insanely awesome depiction of a scene from chapter two where Aizawa shows Ryouta a picture of Dabi by @wellthengetouttathesoupaisle, a hilarious pink-haired Bakugou from @calys-artsy-side, and the squad (aka Ryouta, Mina, and Kaminari) by @feferisushi! The song for this chapter - which is absolutely perfect and I demanded we use it when Misty brought it up as a joke - is "Thrift Shop" by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. If that gives you a hint about what this chapter is about.

Savin' my money and I'm hella happy that's a bargain, bitch I'm a take your grandpa's style, I'm a take your grandpa's style, No, for real. Ask your grandpa. Can I have his hand-me-downs? Thank you

To be honest, Ryouta didn’t having been cooped up in UA since being struck by the quirk. It didn’t feel like much of a prison sentence when he never really went out before. Staying in Heights Alliance or studying in the library was normal for him. Everything he could possibly need was on campus. Why bother going out? It wasn’t like he’d had close friends to do things with. He didn’t go hang out in the city on weekends. If asked, he couldn’t tell anyone the last time he’d gone to the mall or the movies. Those things didn’t matter. He hadn’t even done them often before high school.

As far as his memories were concerned, the only times he had left campus were to buy groceries and visit his siblings. Both trips were brief and done out of a sense of necessity. He didn’t have a ton of money since he refused to ask his father for more help and he couldn’t handle being at the Todoroki house for long. UA might not have been the best of places, but it wasn’t home and that had to count for something.

He did miss Fuyumi. He missed the way she would lecture him on his homework and help him tend to his burns as their mom had before. He missed Natsuo’s persistently bright nature and the way he would tease him and Fuyumi even if it wasn’t appropriate. He missed Shouto, who looked at him like he was good for something.

It still wasn’t enough to make him visit home more. He might’ve missed his siblings, but he was wary of crossing paths with his father more.

Five years and one de-aging quirk later, Ryouta didn’t have to worry about that. Not only was he in constant contact with Shouto, but Fuyumi and Natsuo had sought him out. He wasn’t alone anymore. Besides the confines of his dorm room, which he wouldn’t be surprised to find out was bugged, he couldn’t hide from people. It left him feeling entirely exposed. He didn’t like it, but he also knew it was what his family wanted. One fact stood between him and his ultimate prize: he was a villain.

Ryouta sighed as his thoughts once again distracted him from his notes. Maybe getting so worked up over the notes on the hero course was stupid (after all, it wasn’t like he was going to become a hero), but he had spent years trying to get here. Now that he was in it, he found himself floundering. He knew the most important basics of being a hero, but there was so much more than that. He had some training experience under his belt, but all the theoretical stuff was mind-numbing. There was so much to consider. He knew that being a hero wasn’t just fighting blindly, but working through multiple scenarios made him realize how much could go wrong.

“I think my brain is melting,” Ryouta grumbled. He set his pen down and rubbed his face tiredly. Everyone was so focused on the physical aspect of being a hero that they didn’t stop to consider how much thinking went into it as well. He had spent the better part of his morning reading and flipping through a booklet filled with different scenarios. It made him feel like he was doing a reading comprehension study guide. He was not a fan.

“You doing alright over there?” Midoriya asked from the other side of the table.

Ryouta dropped his forehead onto the booklet. “I think I’d rather fight Bakugou than do this.”

Midoriya smiled understandingly. “It’s a lot of tedious work.”

After lifting his head enough to fold his arms under him, Ryouta dropped his chin on his arms. “It wouldn’t be so difficult if there was one right answer, but there isn’t. There’s just so much to consider. You do one little thing and everything can go to hell.” Not to mention all the reading of old cases and villain takedowns, ones that ended well and ones that didn’t. “Makes me wonder if things ever end okay.”

“They do,” Midoriya insisted, “but it takes a lot of determination and effort.”

“And brains and muscle,” Ryouta added.

Midoriya chuckled. “That too.”

“I didn’t know pros had to do so much homework,” Ryouta said. “Like I don’t mind the extra work - not really. This is what I wanted to do. I wanted to be in the hero course. I wanted…”

He wanted to be a hero. He wanted to be the best. He wanted to be like his father.

(“He’s becoming more like Enji every day,” his mom cried on the phone one night when she thought he was in bed. “I don’t know what to do. He used to be so gentle.”)

When Ryouta realized that he’d drifted off mid-thought, he sat up and took a deep breath. No more slacking. It was time to get back to work. As long as he kept working, he couldn’t dwell on anything. Midoriya must have either been used to Shouto ending conversations abruptly or he was polite enough not to call him out on it.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Midoriya asked carefully, “why were you in General Studies?” Ryouta tried not to react, but he kept his gaze on the notes even though he wasn’t reading. “Not counting your fight against Bakugou, I’ve seen your quirk, uh, up close.” He really didn’t want to read into that, but he knew that meant Dabi had attacked him. “It’s definitely strong enough to warrant a position in the Hero Course. Did you not pass the exam?”

Ryouta twirled the pencil between his fingers as he thought about what to say. He had already explained to Shouto why he hadn’t been in it, but no one else in the class knew. He didn’t think it was any of their business. He knew he could tell Midoriya that he didn’t want to talk about it and the other boy wouldn’t push the matter any further. He was polite. Ryouta didn’t always trust people like that, thinking they were trying to get something from him, but Midoriya was genuinely kind.

It made it much more difficult to lie to him.

“I didn’t take it,” Ryouta answered. “I applied for General Studies, took the test, and got in.”

Midoriya shot up in surprise. “Why not? Your flames are hotter than your brother’s. With the right training, they probably would’ve been stronger than Endeavor’s.”

They were. That was the shameful part. His father had been ecstatic to find out that his oldest son’s fire quirk was even hotter and more powerful than his. Of course, he was stronger because of all the training, experience, and hard work that he’d put into controlling his quirk, but he had been so sure he’d be able to mold his son into a great successor. Ryouta could still remember how excited and happy he had felt upon making his father proud. It embarrassed him to think of it now.

“I had to prove I was worthy of it,” Ryouta explained. He knew he was being evasive, making Midoriya work for the truth, but this was hard for him. He had been sort of open with him before though. He could do it again. It was a process. He was learning.

“That’s what the exam is for,” Midoriya pointed out.

Ryouta shrugged his shoulders. “That wasn’t enough proof.”

His tone ended the conversation, but he had a feeling Midoriya didn’t need him to elaborate. He knew exactly who he was talking about. Shouto had a lot to prove with their father too, but while he was already halfway to the top of the mountain, Ryouta felt like he was stuck at the bottom with only a rope and no other climbing equipment. It wasn’t fair in the slightest and it didn’t matter. He’d fucked off elsewhere instead of conquering the mountain.

Couldn’t he have chosen something besides becoming a villain? It made him feel like his entire life was tied to Endeavor, like no matter what he did or where he went or who he became, his decisions would always go back to him. It was incredibly frustrating.

Shoving the papers away, Ryouta stood up. “I’m gonna take a break. Go for a walk or something. If I don’t, my head might actually explode without Bakugou’s help.”

“Probably a good idea.” Midoriya gave him a quick look over and bit his lip. Ryouta furrowed his brow. What the hell was that look for? “You, uh, gonna change or anything?”

“Why would I do that?” Ryouta asked. He looked down at himself and rolled his eyes. Midoriya was too polite. “Is it the outfit again?”

“No, no!” Midoriya was quick to reassure, waving his hands in front of himself. His pink cheeks betrayed his thoughts though. He could be nice and still lie if he thought it would make someone feel better. By now, Ryouta had learned that the three most honest people here were Iida, Asui, and Bakugou. At times, it was easier to deal with them than someone who was nice to the point of lying. Midoriya meant well though. “It’s a bit nippy out today, is all. You might want a jacket or hoodie. Did Aizawa give you any?”

“I’ll be fine.” A washed out old anime merch t-shirt and bright teal sweatpants with some slip-on shoes were good enough. Even if it was cold outside, it would help soothe the headache that had been building up over the past thirty minutes. Maybe he was allergic to honesty. That could explain why he always felt so sick when he opened up further.

“Of course.” The smile on Midoriya’s face was too tight to be honest. He wasn’t going to say outright he thought Ryouta’s outfit was butt ugly, but he didn’t have to. It mattered very little to Ryouta. He was going out for a walk around campus, not to a fancy restaurant. “Do you want any company?”

Ryouta’s first thought was that Midoriya wanted to keep an eye on him in case he did anything suspicious, but he struck that down almost immediately. No, he was genuinely asking if he wanted someone with him. Most people liked it when other people were there for them. Not Ryouta though. He wanted to be alone. There would probably be a teacher or someone hanging around to make sure everything was safe, but he could at least pretend. With his head hurting, he felt too close to saying something he’d regret.

“Nah, I’m good,” Ryouta told him.

Instead of asking again, Midoriya nodded. Yeah, he was definitely used to Shouto, although his brother was still more social than him at this point. Gathering his things into a neat stack, he went to pick them up, but Midoriya waved at him to leave his stuff there. He wasn’t going anywhere so his things would be safe. Not that anyone in Class 1-A would mess with it. He doubted even Bakugou would, although Kaminari might think it a fun prank to hide it. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to be on the receiving end of one soon now that he had gotten involved in the prank circle.

Upon walking out of the dorms, a cool wind blew over him. It was indeed chilly as Midoriya had said, but that didn’t bother Ryouta. Being early spring, the days could still get cold. No doubt Iida would scold him if he caught him out here without a coat on so he didn’t stop walking. Fuyumi used to do the same thing, always reminding him to wear his jacket so he wouldn’t set a bad example for Shouto.

The cold wind reminded him of his mom’s quirk. Being a civilian, she couldn’t use it as freely as his dad, but she had used it at home. In the face of his father’s sheer power, it was easy to forget that her quirk was actually pretty strong. She didn’t use it for fighting like Shouto used the ice half of his quirk. Ryouta had always found it soothing and kind. When he had been younger and lacked any control over his quirk, it could burn right through him. She would hold him against her, using her quirk to cool him down or put her hands on his face whenever he struggled with a fever. That was what the wind made him think of now.

Ryouta was about halfway through his mindless walk around campus when he decided he wanted something to eat. It was close enough to lunchtime that he could probably get something from the Mess Hall. It wasn’t likely to be busy either, so he could grab a quick snack and go to a spot in the trees where no one would bother him.

However, his plan to eat was cut short when he opened the door and nearly walked right into one of his teachers. It was always strange to see his teachers outside of their hero costumes. Aizawa’s was so understated that it could pass off as his regular clothes. He slept in it enough. Besides finding out All Might’s true form, seeing Present Mic in civilian clothes with his hair down always threw Ryouta off guard. It was so weird.

Present Mic looked just as surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m hungry,” Ryouta immediately answered.

“Oh.” Present Mic scratched his chin. “That makes sense.” His eyes dropped from Ryouta’s face down to his feet, slowly widening as he did. The suspicion morphed into horror and his hand covered his mouth. “My god, what did Shouta do to you?”

“Um…” Ryouta wasn’t sure how to answer that since he didn’t know what Present Mic was talking about. At first, he had thought Present Mic had said his brother’s name, but then he realized that he’d misheard him. He had said “Shouta,” not “Shouto,” which then begged the question who that was. It clicked a few seconds later when he realized his teacher was gawking at his outfit. “You mean Aizawa?”

“Yes, I mean Aizawa!” Present Mic waved a hand at him. “That outfit has him written all over it!”

Ryouta sighed. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s a bright ass outfit that still somehow manages to convey ‘depression’,” Present Mic countered. The remark made Ryouta raise his eyebrows. Besides Bakugou, that was definitely the most forward someone had been about their thoughts concerning what he wore outside of class. The two teachers had known each other for a while though, hadn’t they? Both of them had been teaching at UA when he was here five years ago. Aizawa’s lack of a fashion sense must have been a problem for a while. “And you’re okay wearing that?”

“I mean, it’s not like I have anything else to wear besides my brother’s clothes,” Ryouta pointed out, frustration evident in his voice. It wasn’t like everyone else was the pinnacle of fashion. Most heroes’ costumes were tacky as hell, but he didn’t hear anyone commenting about that. “Plus, I don’t have any money to buy my own clothes. All I have are the funds the school set up for me so I can eat.”

Present Mic gave him a weird look. “The funds…” Realization dawned on his face, which confused Ryouta, but he didn’t question it. “Ah, of course, the funds - I remember now.” He put his hands on his hips and gave him a cheerful grin. It looked normal on him, but Ryouta wasn’t used to seeing that friendliness directed towards him. He was pretty sure that Present Mic neither liked nor trusted him. “Well, you’re in luck, kid, because I think they added more to it recently so you can buy some of your own things.”

“Really? I checked it this morning and I didn’t see anything added.” Ryouta knew that he wasn’t a careful person, but he ran a tight budget. Maybe he wasn’t that great in Present Mic’s English Lit class, but he was damn good at math. He had to be. Accepting any money from his father had been irritating enough, so he had to make sure it stretched for as long as possible and then some in between working odd jobs. He hadn’t known any other UA students that worked on the weekends, but he’d needed to pay for necessities somehow.

“It just happened,” Present Mic insisted. “You need your own shampoo and razors and stuff, right?”

“Yeah,” Ryouta admitted. He’d been using other people’s things, which was humiliating. Shouto kept telling him that he didn’t mind sharing, but all he could think about when he used his brother’s shampoo was that it was the name brand kind, the stuff they used at home. It had been such a stupid shock to switch to the cheaper than store brand toiletries, but he’d done it for over a year now. “I guess I can pull some money out and give it to Shouto to buy me stuff the next time he goes off campus.”

“Huh, that’s right. You haven’t left campus since being brought here, have you?” Present Mic kept his hands on his hips and examined him carefully, like a teacher would a difficult problem. It was a bit off-putting.

Ryouta did his best not to squirm. “I didn’t think it was allowed.”

“It’s true we haven’t considered it before,” Present Mic said, half to himself. He considered Ryouta, looking like he was now trying to solve that problem. Easier said than done. Ryouta knew he was essentially made up of a series of hurdles, each one harder to jump than the previous one. “This isn’t supposed to be a prison for you though.”

“I didn’t think of it that way,” Ryouta replied honestly. Since he hadn’t gone off campus much when he had been here the first time, not leaving felt normal. Although he hadn’t liked UA at times because of how much it reminded him that he was a failure, it was nothing compared to what home felt like. He’d spent years cut off from his quirk every night with the same quirk inhibitor braces that were used on criminals, walking on eggshells and coming up with plans to escape. Now that had been a prison.

The comment didn’t seem to please Present Mic, who still looked like he was trapped in the thought process. “You’ve been on your best behavior too.” Well, that was nice to hear. He had been trying to be good - maybe too hard - but he couldn’t afford for any of the UA staff to think he was planning on acting out or was taking the situation and how much they’d done for him lightly. No one had made any negative remarks about the prank on Bakugou, so he figured he was in the clear there. “I don’t see why you can’t go off campus at least once as long as there’s proper supervision. It’s not like anyone knows who you are.”

Right. No one outside of Class 1-A, the police, and a handful of heroes knew who he was. Any enemies he had made as Dabi, even the League of Villains, wouldn’t know he was anything more than a UA student. As long as he refrained from using his quirk, he should be fine. No one would know the difference.

Even though he had thought about how much he didn’t mind being confined to campus, Ryouta latched onto the idea of being able to get out. It would mean he had built up a sense of trust between him and UA, which was very important to him. No doubt they had kept the police up to date with his progress. Something like that would be necessary in order for UA to keep him here. They had to prove that what they were doing here was right and also that Ryouta wasn’t a menace to society. He had to be twice as good as everyone else in order to get anything.

It wasn’t the idea of going off campus that was such a big deal so much as the idea that they trusted him to do it. The last people to trust him had been his siblings and he had left them behind. There was a lot of making and catching up to do.

“I’ll be good,” Ryouta swore, too eager for his liking. He had to dial it down a notch, but he was excited. Going off campus would be another mark of him acting like a teenager again. Besides going to the store with Fuyumi or taking Natsuo and Shouto to the park, he’d never gone out and done things with friends, mostly because he either didn’t have the money or the friends. “I’ll even wear the quirk inhibitor braces that Aizawa got me. I can hide them under a hoodie. Whatever it takes.”

Something of a smile appeared on Present Mic’s face, which was odd considering Ryouta had never once seen him smile in his direction besides that obviously fake grin earlier. It was always that vague, uneasy look of suspicion. “I thought you didn’t mind staying on campus.”

“Well…” Ryouta shrugged his shoulders. “It’d be nice to see if anything’s changed. Being stuck here, even though so much is different, sometimes makes it feel not real since it’s the last thing I remember.”

Since he hadn’t been able to leave UA, it was sometimes hard for him to remember that the whole world had continued to spin while he had turned into a villain. It was only when he saw how technology like phones had changed or he overheard the other kids talking about media that he realized he had missed so much more than Shouto growing up, Natsuo going to college, or Fuyumi following her dreams.

The stray thought that this must be how his mother felt in the hospital crossed Ryouta’s mind. Her world stayed the same day in and day out while everything changed around her. What would it feel like to step outside? Would it be that much different? Would it be overwhelming or anticlimactic? He wouldn’t know until he left the routine and safety that UA provided. After having experienced a taste of what a normal life could be like with friends, dumb pranks, and the hero course, he was all too eager to have more.

“Let’s see what I can do. I think it’ll be good for you to get out of here.” Present Mic snorted and shook his head. “Besides, someone needs to save you from Shouta’s horrible fashion judgement. I’ve had to deal with him for years. I’m not letting him corrupt you too. This is cruel and unusual punishment. No one should be subjected to that.”

That seemed a little harsh, but Ryouta wasn’t going to argue with his teacher. He clearly took this matter very seriously. At least Present Mic was being honest. He could appreciate that. People being nice to him was good and all, but a little brutal honesty went a long way in this messed up situation. It was probably something he remember for himself.

It turned out Ryouta’s first experience off campus was a trip to the mall, which put him on edge. To be honest, he wasn’t a fan of malls, but Present Mic had thought it would be the best place for him to find some clothes of his own to wear. He didn’t care for the large crowds or the store employees popping out of nowhere to ask him if he needed any help. Even if he did, he wouldn’t ask them. Thrift shops were better so he could get in and out without anyone bothering him. No one asked questions there.

The trip also meant he had to find something to wear, which somehow devolved into Uraraka and Iida sifting through the clothes Aizawa gave him until they came up with an outfit that didn’t look like he had dressed in the dark. Shouto had sat back and watched with Deku, looking more amused than he had any right to be, as Uraraka struggled to keep a straight face with every article of clothing she found. Seriously, what was so bad about how he dressed?

After finding a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and plain hoodie, Ryouta was deemed to look decent. Were they embarrassed to be seen with him in public? Whatever. He didn’t really care either way. He was ready to go. Despite the fact finals were next week, almost everyone was excited to go off campus for a few hours. Even Iida had decided a break was necessary. Ryouta had thought Kaminari was going to cry when he found out they had been given permission to leave. According to him, studying fried his brain worse than overdoing his quirk.

Honestly, Ryouta had expected Aizawa to be one of the teachers supervising the trip, seeing as how his quirk was best suited to subduing him if need be. After all, he knew how poorly of a fighter Ryouta was, so it wouldn’t be difficult to take him down if his quirk was out of the equation. He was surprised to find it was actually Present Mic and Midnight, both of whom were wearing regular clothes as well. If it was weird to see Present Mic in civilian clothes with his long hair down, it was jarring to see Midnight wearing modest clothes. He recognized her from the foreboding smile on her face, but everything else threw him off.

“Try to ignore us and have fun,” Midnight told him as the group made their way down the stairs of the nearest subway stop.

“Right, fun.” That was difficult to do for Ryouta, who knew the teachers were only coming because of him. With her quirk, Midnight could knock him out quickly. None of the other students paid their teachers any attention, all of them wrapped up in what stores they wanted to visit or when they should eat lunch. It was like they weren’t even there. Only Shouto seemed to take note of them, but only as a precaution. He knew what they were (watch guards to keep Ryouta in check) and he didn’t look pleased. There was no way he was going to argue with them though and neither was Ryouta. This was a stretch as it was. “I can do that.”

Apparently, there was an arcade in the mall that Kaminari and Sero were eager to hit up. That was new. The last time Ryouta had gone to the mall, there hadn’t been one. He liked video games well enough, but he wasn’t that great at them. It had taken years to convince their father to let them have a gaming system since he considered them a waste of time, but he’d found out it got his other kids out of his hair. It wouldn’t hurt to check it out. He’d only been to an arcade once years ago.

“And try to get some better clothes!” Present Mic added, all but shoving Ryouta and Midoriya onto the subway after it pulled in front of them.

Shouto sighed, far too dramatically. “That will be a challenge.”

“Oh, I can tell,” Present Mic said. He stayed near the doors, watching all the kids take their seats. Almost the entire class had decided to come on the trip. The unfortunate souls already on the subway car watched in woe as a mob of teenagers piled inside. “If he willingly wore the clothes Shouta gave him without complaint, we already have a problem. I can’t let there be another one. It’s my duty as a hero and teacher to ensure he doesn’t pass on his bad habits to students. Dealing with Shouta is bad enough.”

Midnight laughed as she walked to the back of the car so there was a teacher posted at both sliding doors. It was a good tactical decision. Ryouta sat near the middle in a seat next to Shouto, who looked at ease enough. Up until applying at UA, Ryouta had never been on the subway before. He’d hated it the first time he used it and he hated it now. There were so many people on it, especially on the weekend. At least he could space out. All he planned on doing when they got to the mall was find the cheapest store, snag the plainest clothes he could find, buy some necessities, and be done with it. Then he could follow the others around and relax.

Midoriya spun around in his seat next to Uraraka to look back at them. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Ryouta said, “just kinda anxious and relieved to get off campus.”

“I’m so excited!” Uraraka exclaimed. “I haven’t been in the mall in months. Not that I’m going to buy anything, but I like to look and try on things.” She rubbed her hands together. “Plus, all the free samples at the food court.”

“And you can buy your own stuff so you don’t have to rely on Aizawa’s, um, interesting personal taste,” Midoriya added.

Again, Ryouta didn’t think Aizawa had bought the clothes personally. Even if he had, they gave off a definite thrift store vibe, which was fine by him. After moving out, that was how he’d got a lot of his clothes. The main issue with having a fire quirk and trying to improve it was that most clothes weren’t fire retardant. He couldn’t have said how many t-shirts he had destroyed over the years. Why spend decent money or find things that looked good? That was partly why he didn’t mind how bright, ugly, or boring the clothes he’d been given were. There was a possibility they’d get ruined anyway.

Kaminari clapping him on the shoulder from behind nearly made Ryouta jump, but instead, he turned around to give the other boy a semi-alarmed look. “Our boy is gonna find some clothes that’ll catch all the ladies’ eyes.” He elbowed Sero playfully in the side. “It’ll suck to have more competition, but then you’ll be a proper pretty boy like your brother.”

Shouto’s furrowed brow and slight frown made him look so confused that Ryouta snorted. Even Uraraka giggled and Midoriya grinned. The idea of his little brother being labeled a pretty boy was almost as funny as Ryouta being competition for girls. One of the very last things on his mind was dating. He was pretty damn sure he had much more important things going on in his life than that. There was no way he was going to develop a crush on anyone when he had a life sentence hanging over his head in the form of his future self.

Truth be told, it had never been a big deal before. When his father had cut off his training and sent him to school with Fuyumi and Natsuo, he’d been too wounded and too hung up to develop close bonds or friendships, choosing to stick with his sister or by himself. By the time he reached high school, he simply didn’t care. There wasn’t time for anything like that and, well, he was kind of too absorbed in his own shit to notice anyone else.

Huh, wow. That made him sound like more of a bastard than usual.

“Do you know where you want to go first?” Midoriya asked.

“Erm, not really,” Ryouta admitted.

“We should formulate a plan before splitting off,” Iida said from his seat next to Yaoyorozu on the other side of the train car, “and make sure Present Mic and Midnight are aware of it.”

Ryouta held up his hands. “I don’t care where we go. I’ll follow you all.” If he acted like he didn’t care where they went, maybe they wouldn’t realize he didn’t know where to go. How many of the stores had changed since he’d last been there? He wouldn’t even know where to even begin. Maybe he could ask Uraraka once they got there. Wherever she got clothes would probably work for him.

Everyone seemed ready to split in a mad dash the second they got to the mall, but Iida forced them all to come up with a plan once they got off at the stop. That way their teachers would know where everyone was even if they were going to stick close to whatever group Ryouta found himself in. He figured that they could go to a few stores, but since he wasn’t picky, they wouldn’t take long. Also, even though he knew this whole trip was kind of for him, he didn’t want to be the focus, so he made sure to stress that he would go anywhere they wanted.

Despite the organized plan they had decided on, the moment they stepped foot into the mall, the class split up into groups and bolted in separate directions. Kaminari waved at him as he left with Sero, Kirishima, and Bakugou to the arcade. Uraraka even left them to go with Mina, Asui, Momo, and Hagakure, giving them a helpless shrug as she was dragged off. Others began to taper off until it was just Ryouta, Shouto, Iida, and Midoriya.

It looked like it was officially a boys’ day out shopping. Well, this wasn’t weird at all.

Sighing, Ryouta started forward. “Let’s get this over with.”

“It’ll be fun!” Midoriya told him.

Ryouta looked at him sideways. “Should I put on a fashion show too of whatever clothes I pick out?”

Shouto hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe we should’ve sent him off with the girls.” Even though Ryouta shot him a glare, his younger brother looked dead serious.

Instead of being offended, Midoriya bit his lip as he tried not to smile too much. “Then they really would’ve made him try on everything they picked out so they could see what he looked like. They’d have him wearing whatever clothes they like.” He started to laugh, putting a hand over his mouth to muffle it. “Don’t be so mean, Todoroki!”

“We won’t steer you wrong,” Iida reassured him. He stopped in front of what looked like a nice store and walked inside. The other three boys followed him without complaint. “Just pick whatever you want. These are your clothes, after all.”

If given the option of what clothes he could wear, Ryouta knew it wouldn’t be as bad as what Aizawa had given him. The knowing look on Shouto’s face suggested he thought differently. It wasn’t Ryouta’s fault he couldn’t afford to be picky about what he wore. Even when he had lived at home, buying fancy clothes hadn’t made sense to him. It wasn’t like their dad took him out anywhere. He spent most of his time either at home or school, so whatever Fuyumi bought him for his birthday was what he wore.

Although Ryouta had been certain he wouldn’t be able to miss Present Mic and Midnight watching over him, once he started to wander through the store looking at all the clothes, he forgot about them. He was much more focused on trying to find something the other boys thought looked fine. However, when he did finally pick something out, he balked when he looked at the price tag. He had known this store was probably going to be out of his budget, but he hadn’t realized it was that off.

“What’s wrong?” Iida asked when Ryouta started to put clothes back.

“They, uh, aren’t my size,” Ryouta replied edgily.

“Really?” Iida glanced around. “Let me see if I can find an employee. They might have different sizes in the back. They’re very polite and helpful here whenever I shop here.”

Ah, that explained the prices. Over the past few weeks, Ryouta had become more familiar with the kids he had attacked as Dabi. One of the biggest things about Iida was that he came from a family of heroes as well. Everyone in his family shared similar speed quirks and were in the pro hero business. He was even carrying on the pro hero name Ingenium of his older brother, who could no longer be a hero. It was very inspiring and a huge contrast to what the Todoroki household had been like, except for one thing.

Iida had money. The stores he shopped in were very different from the ones Ryouta had learned to frequent in the past year.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Ryouta insisted quickly before Iida could leave. “I can just look somewhere else.”

Even though he frowned a little, Iida nodded. “If you want. I don’t have need of anything today.”

Ryouta looked around a rack of shirts to find Midoriya and Shouto looking at ties. Shouto was shaking his head, a smile on his face, as Midoriya compared two different ones. Seeing as how it was obvious to Ryouta that Midoriya didn’t know how to tie a tie, it was probably a useless thought. He might not have been able to dress stylishly, but Ryouta’s school tie was always the proper length.

“Hey, Midoriya!” Ryouta called out.

The green-haired boy turned around to face him. “Oh, hey, which one do you think looks better? I need a new tie for any formal outfits.”

“The blue one,” Ryouta told him. Shouto immediately plucked the blue tie out of Midoriya’s hand and put it back on the rack. He hesitated and then put the other one back for good measure. Well, that was rude. Ryouta narrowed his eyes briefly before getting over it. Whatever. “What stores do you usually shop in?”

“Oh, um, not this one,” Midoriya responded. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a little out of my price range.” Yes, good, now they were talking. “I get a lot of my clothes in a store further in near the food court. They’ve got pretty good deals and they’re comfortable.”

“Cool, let’s go there,” Ryouta said, already walking out of the store. “Maybe you can find something too.”

“No shirt shirts,” Shouta jumped in, a little too firmly if Ryouta was being honest. Midoriya smiled awkwardly and zipped up his jacket further to hide the evidence. Maybe the real reason why he never outright commented on Ryouta’s clothes was that he knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on either. As long as the clothes were comfortable, what was the big deal clothes weren’t that great?

Just as Ryouta had hoped, the store Midoriya took them to was indeed the more or less right place. It had sale written all over it like it was going out of business. Actually, maybe it was going out of business considering how many sale signs were up. It wasn’t like March was a big time for shopping. Here at least, Ryouta could grab clothes at random without having to worry about breaking the bank. He didn’t look at anything he picked for long, just enough to decide he’d wear it without complaint. He needed clothes he could wear as it got warmer what with spring upon them.

After picking out an armful, Ryouta rechecked to make sure they were the right size and on sale. With that taken care of, he made his way to check out, but Shouto stopped him cold by laying a hand on his arm and asking, “Aren’t you going to try them on?”

“I don’t see the point,” Ryouta said. “They’ll fit.”

Shouto sighed and pulled his hand away. “Let me see them.”

Ryouta jerked his arms and the clothes back. “They’re fine, you little shit.”

“You picked them at random,” Shouto retorted. “I watched you go through the store and just grab things when you figured out they were your size.” He shook his head. “Don’t you care in the slightest?”

“Not really,” Ryouta said.

“Why?”

Ryouta opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out and he closed it. Why did he not care? Why was it such a big deal to care about something as basic as his appearance? To be honest, he’d never put much thought into it before. The clothes would get destroyed. What did it matter? When he started attending public school, Fuyumi had edited what he wore, sometimes his mother. While he didn’t understand why they were so particular about it, he didn’t fight them either. Shouldn’t he have cared at least a little? Shouldn’t it have irritated him that he either wore what other people wanted him to wear or he wore whatever he found on the ground? He remembered his mother wrestling him into nice clothes for family portraits, but besides that, he simply...didn’t care.

No, maybe that wasn’t completely it. He remembered finding some of Fuyumi’s horrified reactions funny. Ryouta hadn’t been put together at all. He was a disaster. He could also remember their father forcing him back inside to change. Usually he did, but the times he refused meant he had to stay home alone. Those had been some of the quietest days of his life once the explosive arguing was over.

No, he didn’t care what clothes he wore, but he did care what he looked like. There was a difference.

“Will you even try?” Shouto asked.

Clenching his jaw, Ryouta looked down at the bundle of clothes in his arms. He really didn’t think they looked bad, but, if he thought about it, he knew they would only be a step above what he had now. If he took the time, he could be fully aware of what he was wearing. Objectively, he knew the clothes he wore outside of his school uniform looked bad and he had a shit sense of fashion, but he didn’t care about them. He could wear anything, no matter how stupid or ridiculous as it was, as long as he didn’t look like his dad. That was fine. It was partly why he settled on wearing such plain clothes at home.

Ryouta sighed. “Okay, fine.”

The first thing they did was go through everything he’d picked out before even trying them out. While Iida and Midoriya walked through the store in an attempt to find some formal wear the latter could afford, Shouto tore through Ryouta’s selection without any forgiveness. He frowned, furrowed his brow, and almost cringed with every article of clothing he produced until finally the only clothes that were left was a button up shirt, a dark pair of jeans, and a jacket.

“Seriously?” Ryouta scoffed. “Nothing else was good?” Shouto gave him a judgemental look that said he wasn’t even going to grace him with a response. “Can I be honest?”

“Yes, please,” Shouto said.

Waving a hand at the three articles of clothing left, Ryouta admitted, “I don’t even like these.”

“Then why did you pick them out?” Shouto demanded, the first hints of frustration evident in his voice.

“Because they were super cheap when combined with other clothes for the store deals,” Ryouta shot back, also frustrated. Shouto gawked at him. There might not have been much of a change in his facial expression, but he could tell just how much in shock his brother was right now.

It was understandable. Ryouta had seen his dorm room, after all. As much as he’d gone through with their father, Shouto wasn’t above spending Endeavor’s money either. That was fine. If Ryouta had access to his dad’s credit card right now, he’d probably go wild after the past few weeks had been dumped on him, but it had become important to him not to rely on his help. His pity. He’d given Ryouta the bare amount of funds to take care of himself, just enough that didn’t make him look bad, and that was that. Ryouta had found out the hard way that, despite how much his home life had sucked at times, he’d had it made too. It was a mortifying realization.

“I don’t see why you won’t let me buy this stuff for you,” Shouto finally said.

“Because it’s not your money!” Ryouta exclaimed. He cringed at the volume of his voice, hunkering his shoulders so he could hide behind a coat rack, and then rubbed his temple. “I appreciate the gesture - I do - but I did everything I could to not rely on our dad. I went by a different name. I never mentioned him at school. I didn’t ask for help. It was… It is important to me that I still don’t.”

The shock on Shouto’s face was gone, replaced by something softer that looked more like understanding. There was a moment where they stared at each other and it felt like another piece of the puzzle had fallen in between them. So much of living with Shouto now and going to school with him meant figuring each other out all over again. Luckily he’d had practice doing that with Fuyumi after their father had decided to end his training, but it didn’t make it fun or less painful, just easier.

“Find anything?” Midoriya asked, a bag filled with purchased items in one hand. Iida looked...tired. Apparently, his attempts at convincing his friend out of his poor taste in fashion hadn’t gone as well as Shouto’s.

Ryouta shook his head. “Nope, I’m still a hopeless cause.”

Iida picked at the clothes that Shouto had discarded. “Why?”

“Look, I just don’t care, alright?” Ryouta sighed. “I never have. Whatever is given to me, whatever fits, whatever doesn’t have too many burn holes in it, I’ll wear it. Seriously, it’s that simple.”

“Surely you have a preference though, right?” Iida queried.

“I-” Ryouta’s shoulders dropped. If he had to choose something - if he had to pick a style - he knew what he would wear, but he didn’t want to wear that right now. Looking at these clothes now and thinking about the obnoxiously bright-colored clothes that Aizawa had given him, it had been an easy choice to make when the other option made him think of the person staring him in the face. His future.

“He looks like the walking dead.” Yeah, but he’d liked that jacket a lot. Ryouta had spent too many nights thinking about that stupid photo of Dabi that had thrown his world upside down not to face that errant thought. It was frustrating. As if his quirk wasn’t a bad enough reminder or his mere presence. He didn’t need to do anything else that would make them compare him to Dabi.

Before Ryouta could finish that thought or anyone prompt him to continue, Midoriya perked up and waved at someone coming up behind them. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”

“It’s close to when Iida proposed we meet up at the food court.”

Ryouta turned around, spotting Tokoyami and Shoji stopping in front of them. They had gone off separately with Jirou, who turned out to be behind Shoji. He was large enough to block her from sight before she stepped around him to look at the clothes Ryouta was no longer buying. With one earbud plugged into her ear, she could bop her head to the loud music and still listen in on the conversation. She had the right idea. When she looked at the clothes and raised her eyebrow, he fought the urge to throw his hands up and walk out of the store. Granted, out of everyone here, she did have the best style.

“Ah, you’re right,” Iida said when he looked at his watch. “I suppose we should head that way.”

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” Tokoyami asked, his sharp eyes moving from Midoriya holding his purchases to Ryouta holding nothing.

“Uh, not exactly…” Ryouta gave a sheepish smile. “Maybe another time, yeah?”

The three newcomers looked at each other, a moment of silent communication passing between them that could only come from having been around each other nearly every day for a full year. While Jirou typically wore a near constant bored expression that made her hard to read, it was even more difficult with Tokoyami, who had an actual bird’s head, and Shoji, who wore a mask over half his face.

The first one to break was Jirou, who huffed and said, “We’ve gotta do it.”

“It is not our job,” Tokoyami responded.

“Yeah, but…” Jirou waved a hand at Ryouta, which made him stiffen. “Dude, come on. You know it too.”

“She has a point,” Shoji added.

Tokoyami closed his eyes, folded his arms, and sighed deeply. It was incredibly dramatic, which made Ryouta unsure of how to react, leaving him to stand mutely and eye them all. They were communicating on a level he wasn’t privy to, even though he knew he was somehow a part of their conversation.

“Listen, not to interrupt you all or anything, but what the hell are you talking about?” Ryouta blurted.

When Tokoyami opened his eyes, he turned his focus onto Ryouta and said in a voice that was both very serious and mysterious, “This is not your store.”

Ryouta looked around like the store might actually provide him with an answer to that statement, but no help came. He had no fucking clue what Tokoyami was talking about right now. This was one of the first times he’d been involved with any of these three. How could they possibly know anything about him? They had friends in the class, but he’d noticed they either stuck with themselves or flittered between groups. Not everyone had a set core of friends like Midoriya or Bakugou.

“Just follow us,” Jirou told him.

He knew they were being helpful, but it sounded kind of ominous. His feet didn’t move. “Why?”

“Do you actually like any of the clothes here or are you just grabbing whatever?” Shoji asked, his voice somewhat muffled behind his face mask. Having been called out by someone that barely knew him and had maybe said all of three words to him was unsettling. His face must have given them the answer because he nodded his head. Even Tokoyami and Jirou looked like they’d had their suspicions confirmed.

“I thought this might be the case,” Tokoyami said in a tone that was much too solemn for the situation.

“Seriously,” Ryouta demanded, “what are you talking about?”

Jirou playfully punched him in the shoulder. “You’re one of us, man.” She turned to Shouto. “Mind if we take him for a bit? You all can go on to the food court. I think we know somewhere he can find some clothes he likes and won’t look like he dressed in the dark.” She smirked. “On second thought…”

Shouto turned to face him, an almost defeated expression on his face. “Are you okay going with them?”

“Going where?” Ryouta questioned. “No offense, but you all are being stupidly cryptic.”

“A place where you belong,” Tokoyami said dramatically.

“Somewhere you’ll fit in,” Jirou added cheekily.

“We’re just helping you get clothes you’ll actually like,” Shoji finished. When he rolled his eyes, it was so emphatic Ryouta couldn’t help but nod. It was the most emotion he’d seen from him so far. He had thought that Jirou was pretty level-headed, but considering she hung out with Bakugou’s group half the time, he should’ve known better.

When Ryouta glanced at his brother, Shouto only sighed. “Just go with them.”

“You sure?” Ryouta asked.

“They’re better equipped to help you,” Shouto told him.

What the hell did that mean? Ryouta let Jirou throw an arm over his shoulders and guide him out of the store. It was an intimate move, but somehow gave off the vibe they weren’t that close. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but it was impressive. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly at his brother before they made a left turn and was out of each other’s sight.

“So, uh, where are we going?” Ryouta asked in his best good-natured voice. He sounded like a boy scout. It was terrible.

Jirou grinned up at him. “You’ll see.”

This time, Ryouta was the one to roll his eyes. “You don’t have to be so-”

“Here!”

He rolled his eyes right onto the store. “Oh.”

Even though it was dumb, his cheeks turned red. This was the one place in the mall he’d been avoiding. He knew it would still be here as this style never died. Looking at the three Class 1-A kids with him now, he should have immediately known where they were taking him. There was too much black clothing between the three for any one of them to not shop at a store like this. He could point out the cool band t-shirts or nerd merch all he wanted to justify coming here. It would only make the fact he’d shopped at this place that more obvious.

“How did you know?” Ryouta asked quietly.

Tokoyami was almost scathing in his honesty when he said, “I remember your clothes from the Training Camp.”

It was a blow to the ego, although Ryouta knew he hadn’t meant it that way. Five years was a long time, but at the same time, it wasn’t. His style probably hadn’t changed that much in between him dropping out of UA and him joining the League. It hadn’t gotten much better, but it hadn’t gotten worse either. That jacket had been cool, along with the boots. As much as he hated it, he could stand here right now and admit that to himself. He’d worn a lot of dark, drab colors growing up. They fit him well.

But he hadn’t wanted to do that now. He didn’t want anyone at UA to look at him and see Dabi, which he knew those clothes would do. Maybe the bright colors had been a shield.

“It’s okay,” Shoji told him.

Jirou pulled her arm away. “Yeah, you’re in good company.”

“I just…” Ryouta sighed. “I don’t want you to think I’m him.”

Tokoyami shook his head. “The clothes don’t make the person. They don’t make the villain or the hero either.”

Ryouta ran his fingers through his hair, stopping to rest his hand on the back of his head. “I guess I was being kind of stupid. I know I don’t dress for shit, but it was always easier sticking to black or neutral colors.” Plus, burns and soot were harder to spot on black clothes. “You’re still probably gonna have to help me.”

“Finally,” Jirou said smugly, “a makeover I can get behind.”

It wasn’t any less weird picking out clothes and having people edit him, but he was definitely more comfortable in this store. The prices were a little higher than he would’ve liked, but that was a price he would have to pay if he wanted to wear clothes that ticked every box. Just going for comfort and a low price wasn’t always a good thing, if only because they weren’t a decent quality either. Caring about his appearance wouldn’t make him a bad person. Neither would dressing in the same colors and style as Dabi. It annoyed him, but if they didn’t think it was awful, then maybe he was overthinking things.

For some reason, it made him think of the horrific scars on Dabi’s body. He must have cared an awful lot about what (and who) he looked like to let himself get that damaged. What had he been thinking? Had he wanted to erase every last remnant of who he was - or where he came from? He’d inherited his mother’s build, but he’d grown up looking like his father, the only child born with both his signature red hair and eyes. He’d dyed his hair and either burned himself or let his quirk burn him beyond recognition - and then continued to wear either shitty or neutral black clothes.

With their assistance, combined with Ryouta’s need to get this over with, they gathered an armful of clothes he could try on. He was content with trusting their gut and simply buying it, but Jirou had insisted he try them just in case to check the fit and if he liked them on him.

“Remember,” Jirou said on the other side of the changing room door, “it’s okay to be picky sometimes.”

“Yeah, but what’s the point?” Ryouta asked as he tugged a t-shirt over his head. “If it fits, is comfortable, and doesn’t look like shit, then it should be fine.”

“It’s a confidence thing,” Jirou told him. “When you look good and actually like what you’re wearing, you’ll feel better. Trust me, there’s something awesome about putting on the right pair of boots.”

Was he that obvious about his fluctuating confidence issues? Ryouta couldn’t deny he had them in spades - after what he’d gone through with his father, there was no sense in it - but he also knew he was clever and strong. As much as he hated his quirk and the way it took control, he liked it at the same time too. It was hard to explain. He’d made it and continued to do so despite everything thrown at him. Of course, that didn’t mean he was handling things well. Maybe she had a point though. He’d never really thought of his appearance that way.

“So?” Shoji prompted.

“I…” Ryouta stared at his reflection. “I don’t really care for this one?”

“Toss it over, man, and try on the next one,” Jirou immediately replied. She didn’t sound offended at all that he didn’t like a shirt she’d picked out. He pulled it over his head and did as he was told, throwing it over the door and then grabbing the next shirt.

After that, it went by a lot faster. In the end, only that shirt and a pair of jeans that were far too skinny for his comfort were put back on the racks. Everything else fit perfectly, was affordable, and, as Jirou had suggested, he did like them and felt a little more confident.

Before he could go up to pay, Jirou rushed back with a black leather jacket in her hands. “You have to get this.”

Ryouta immediately reached out for it, already liking the look of it, but then hesitated. “Uh, isn’t it a little…too on the nose?” It wasn’t a long jacket like the one he’d seen Dabi wearing in that picture and lacked the stitching and metal braces, but it did make him think of it, which meant others would think the same.

“We can match,” Jirou said in an attempt to make him feel better. “Besides, it’s cold outside. You need one jacket.”

When Ryouta took the jacket from her, Jirou smiled in triumph and Tokoyami nodded his head like some wise sage. Hell, maybe he was. Over half the clothes Ryouta ended up buying had been picked by him. He had planned on putting them up when they got back to the dorms, but Shoji suggested he go ahead and change into some of his new clothes in the bathroom. It was a little awkward, especially with a random stranger complaining that he was taking too long, but once he stepped out, a funny thing happened. The guy took one look at him and shut up.

It was ridiculous how much a simple change of clothes could, well, change things.

The moment he walked out of the bathroom, Jirou high-fived both Tokoyami and Shoji. “Success!”

“Much better,” Shoji told him.

At first, Ryouta thought Tokoyomi would say something cryptic like, “You are now one with the darkness,” or equally strange that he seemed fond to do, but he didn’t say anything. However, he looked like he approved. Again, it was hard to tell with his bird features, but he didn’t look horrified.

“Thanks,” Ryouta said. “Shouto will probably still think I look ridiculous, but…”

“He’s got that rich kid pretty boy style going for him,” Jirou said, rolling her eyes. That made Ryouta grin. Yeah, he kind of did now that he thought about it. Natsuo had more of a jock style too while Fuyumi had always gone for modest and slightly girly. “You’ve got this.”

Shoji waved for them to follow him to the food court where everyone else would no doubt be waiting for them. Now that the shopping was out of the way, Ryouta felt a lot more eager about being off campus. Hopefully, they’d have some time left over to go to the arcade later. He wanted to do something fun. Shopping certainly didn’t count. It had been easier with these three, but he was glad it was over. He’d never liked shopping before and he didn’t now.

As soon as they entered the food court, Ryouta’s first thought was that it was large and then it was overwhelming. The number of choices didn’t bother him so much as the number of people. If he wasn’t picky about what he wore, he was even less picky about what he ate. Growing up, half the time anything he ate came up anyway, so it didn’t matter if he ate something heavy, light, delicious, crappy, sweet, or salty. It had always been more about quantity over quality for him. If the training wasn’t enough, his quirk alone burned through him quick, leaving him skinny no matter how much food he shoveled in his mouth.

Spotting the Class 1-A group was easy. They were all crowded in a handful of tables in the middle of the food court with Iida seemingly herding them. Uraraka caught sight of them first, waving to catch their attention. A huge smile lit up her face when she spotted Ryouta, which put him at ease. Okay, so it wasn’t just these three. He had done a good job. Well, they had done a good job and he’d rolled with it. Before getting in line for food, Ryouta made his way over there so he could drop his bags off.

“Oh, you look so good!” Uraraka burst when he set the bags in the chair next to her. “So edgy and cool.”

Ryouta snorted. “Stop.”

Shouto eyed him for a moment before deciding, “It’s better than I remembered. There’s actual style.”

“Glad to receive your approval,” Ryouta retorted dryly.

Iida finally took his seat at the table. “I understand your hesitance about your choice in clothing, but you should have said something earlier.” He didn’t have to be straightforward for Ryouta to hear the implication: We’re not going to think you’re a villain because you want to wear a black leather jacket.

Thinking back on it now made him feel foolish, but he was doing so much to distance himself from Dabi, especially in their eyes. Anything that came off as threatening was something he did not do. It was why he’d been so passive over the past few weeks. While he wasn’t confident like Shouto or arrogant like Bakugou, he wasn’t a doormat either. He’d struggled and fought too much to be one. After that confrontation with Monoma, talking with all three of his siblings, and the prank on Bakugou, he didn’t feel like acting like one either. It wasn’t him.

“I’ll be right back,” Ryouta told them. He walked in the direction of the nearest food station, weaving his way through the crowd. He didn’t even know what it was until he got in line and looked at the sign. Jirou’s voice piped up in his head reminding him he could be picky about some things, but he shook it away. This was fine.

“Oh my god, I love your jacket!” a girl exclaimed. Ryouta blinked and turned to the side, only to lean back when he realized how close she was. “Where did you get it?”

“Oh, um, the store by the coffee shop,” Ryouta answered, pointing vaguely in that direction. It was the first time he’d spoken with a civilian after being de-aged since the others had dealt with any employees. It shouldn’t have made his heart race, but it did. This person not only had no idea who he was, but she wasn’t even involved in heroics. She would take his answer and run with it, not thinking anything of it or him.

“It looks really cool,” the girl told him, a bright smile on her face. “You look great in it.”

He’d beat himself over the head for it later, but Ryouta actually blushed. “Um, thanks?”

It was like dealing with Mina’s forwardness all over again when she’d told him to call him by her given name. This girl looked to be around his age with long black hair and dark brown eyes. She was pretty, but things like that had always been objective, errant thoughts he didn’t have time for. He definitely didn’t have time for them now.

“I’ll have to check out that store,” the girl replied teasingly. “Ta ta!”

And then she was gone, all but disappearing in the crowd. Had that just happened? Ryouta stood there awkwardly until he heard the food employee behind the counter call for him a second time. Oh, it was his turn. He hastily ordered his food and handed over the cash. Still somewhat dazed, he carried his food back to the table where he’d put his clothes, not really paying attention to where he was going.

“It’s happening already!” Kaminari wailed dramatically from the table next to them.

“What’s happening?” Mina asked as she munched on her meal.

Kaminari pointed an accusing finger at Ryouta. “The girls are already going after him. Did you see that hot chick walk up and hit on him? You know the hottest girls hang out in malls.” Mina shrugged her shoulders as if to say he wasn’t wrong. “I knew this was going to happen. Our chances with girls decrease with every Todoroki apparently.”

“Don’t worry,” Ryouta told him, his cheeks still warm with embarrassment. “I’m not going to steal girls from you.”

“You don’t have to,” Kaminari sighed, plopping onto the bench. “They’ll come flocking to you, leaving the rest of us poor souls behind.”

“Because girls like edgy bastards?” Bakugou drawled.

Kaminari knowingly pointed a chopstick at him. “Just because you’re too much of a hothead for girls to like you-”

“Would you shut up?” Bakugou snapped.

A grin found its way onto Kaminari’s face, one that Ryouta immediately recognized as a bad idea. “I thought for sure the hair change would mellow you out in girls’ eyes.”

The mini-explosions that rattled from Bakugou’s palms made the couple next to them jump and their table shake, but Kaminari only laughed and leaned out of his reach. It didn’t even make Mina, Kirishima, or Sero blink. They all kept eating and watching with amusement on their faces. They weren’t scared of him at all. Granted, the hot pink hair did do wonders for making him look less threatening. He seemed to know it too, which made him simmer even more.

As usual, Ryouta took lunch as an opportunity to keep to himself while everyone else conversed. They were happy about getting the chance to take a break from studying for finals. It wasn’t until they were finished that he noticed Midoriya looking at him in thought.

“Uh, something wrong?” Ryouta prompted.

“Oh, I was just wondering…” Midoriya said, sounding like he might be talking to himself. “You aren’t familiar with any of the stores at the mall. If you didn’t come here to shop, where did you get clothes and stuff?”

“Ah, right.” Ryouta no longer felt hungry, despite the few bites left on his plate. He pushed them aside with his chopsticks until he finally set them down. Shouto was watching him too. He must have been thinking the same thing. Ryouta tried not to sigh. He would’ve had to face this truth eventually. Their curiosity would’ve grown too much eventually, particularly Uraraka’s, who he could tell was trying her best to act like she wasn’t listening. Well, he had to own up to his methods at some point. “I usually go to a thrift shop around the corner.”

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” Iida asked, sounding genuinely distraught.

“I didn’t think you all would want to go there,” Ryouta replied. It was the truth, but it wasn’t the entire truth. No, there was something far more embarrassing than a thrift shop. Shouto looked troubled. He’d probably never been to a thrift shop before, seeing as how Ryouta had never been to one until he moved out. When he had stressed about how little money he had, his brother hadn’t realized how bad it was.

He had no idea.

“Why don’t we go there?” Iida suggested. “You can probably get cheaper things like pajamas and such there.”

“Oh, no, we don’t have to do that,” Ryouta said quickly. “That stuff can wait.”

“I’d like to go,” Shouto cut in.

Ryouta tried not to wince. Out of everyone to speak, he knew he would cave immediately if Shouto wanted to go. When he looked around, he realized everyone at the table looked done eating and interested in leaving. Well, it was now or never. The moment he stood up, a handful of others did as well, taking it as a signal. At least most of the class was staying behind. He’d only have to suffer humiliation from a few people then.

When he glanced around, he caught sight of Present Mic and Midnight for the first time since walking into the mall. They’d done an amazing job blending in. He could tell they were curious about what was going on. Ryouta kind of hoped they would put a stop to this - maybe say they had to stay at the mall or go back to UA - but no, they stood up and threw away their trash too.

This was happening. They were really doing this. He thought he might puke as they walked out of the mall in the direction of the thrift shop. That pretty girl from the food court wouldn’t think he looked so cool if she saw where he was going now. How embarrassing.

Ryouta tried to ignore the feeling of self-consciousness prickling at his skin. Unfortunately, it only seemed to increase with every step he took. I could have lied, he errantly thought. Guilt immediately welled up inside him. It wasn’t enough to make the notion any less painfully tempting. He could have just taken them to the thrift store. Instead, they were about to learn the truth of how he lived.

He had to hold back a grimace as he glanced over his shoulder. Shouto was quietly discussing something with Yaoyorozu, whose caution and excitement seemed to be growing in equal parts, while Uraraka was happily chattering with Midoriya and Iida, as they moved deeper into the “shady” part of the shopping district.

They were all going to think he was a fucking garbage person.

There was only one more corner to turn before they reached their destination. Shoving his feelings down, Ryouta forced himself to quicken his pace, only to falter once the store was actually in plain view. His last step before coming to a halt hit the pavement a little harder than usual, generating an echo. He couldn’t bring himself to turn around and look at the expressions of his companions. Instead, his gaze was locked on the large, glittering thrift shop, promising to provide cheap goods and ask no questions.

Confusion flickered in the undercurrents of Shouto’s voice. “Is this it…?”

Before Ryouta could feel too much like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole, Uraraka happily exclaimed, “I’ve come here before!”

The statement prompted Ryouta to risk a cautious glance over his shoulder. None of the others were actually looking at him. Uraraka was staring intensely at the store, rocking forward onto the balls of her feet and counting something off on her fingers. Meanwhile, Shouto, Midoriya, and Iida had all turned their attention to Yaoyorozu, who was starting to speak. “It’s kind of like that store we went to, isn’t it?” Her lips were pressed in a small smile while her eyes glimmered with excitement. It looked like there might have been something else there as well, maybe nostalgia, or maybe something rawer, but this wasn’t the time to try to look into it.

For the life of him, he couldn’t think of a reason why Yaoyorozu Momo would go to a thrift shop (or his brother for that matter), but the knowledge that she had done so was something of a relief. It didn’t put him completely at ease by any means, but some of the tension drained out of his shoulders and allowed him to start moving again. “Not quite. Actually… “ Actually, as much as he wanted to say something that would immediately make them understand that he wasn’t some sort of disgusting freak, such a thing was impossible. Ryouta signed in resignation. “Just follow me.”

So much for overcoming his shame. Not only was it back, but he could feel it intensifying with every step he took. It was only sheer willpower and the knowledge that turning back would make him look suspicious that made him keep moving. As promised, he didn’t lead them inside the store. Instead, he began to walk around it into the alley leading to the area behind the store. Murmurs just a little too quiet to make out emitted from the group behind him as they went further into the darkness.

Forget being gross. I’ll be lucky if they don’t think I’m going to murder them. A corner of his lips twitched in dark, unhappy amusement.

A de-aged villain leads a group of naive students into a dark alleyway. It didn’t take a comedy genius to figure out how that joke ended.

After a walk that felt much longer than it really was, Ryouta came to a stop. The others falling silent didn’t come as much of a relief, as he had lead them directly over to a trio of dumpsters. He pursed his lips and lifted his chin a little despite the heat he could feel building in his face. “This is it,” he announced. In different circumstances, he might have been proud of himself for keeping his voice from wavering when his every nerve was on edge with anticipation for their response. Right now, telling his younger brother and his friends that he frequently did his “shopping” in other people’s trash, already well aware of what they thought of his fashion sense, he just felt uncomfortable, darkly amused, and bitterly accepting. This was it: one of the most embarrassing situations he had ever willingly walked into.

Although he couldn’t bring himself to turn around, he did plant his hands on his hips, as if he was not only unashamed, but proud of his overly thrifty ways.

He thought he heard Shouto begin to say something or, more accurately, make a surprised, confused, and probably horrified noise. Before it could form into words or grow loud enough for him to confirm that it really was his brother, Uraraka spoke up and saved his hide once again. “Oh! I’ve always wanted to try this!” She strode forward, entering Ryouta’s line of sight and stopping only inches away from the dumpsters. “Which one are we gonna climb in?”

Ryouta rubbed at his arm, more than a little dumbstruck. “Last time I was here, the one on the right was used for actual trash,” he hesitantly offered, “but the other two…”

Uraraka nodded decisively. “Right!” As if entirely without shame, she closed the distance between herself on the middle dumpster, braced her hands against the side of its open top, and vaulted in. He couldn’t help but find the sight oddly admirable. It wasn’t as hard as he had expected to push the anxiety out of his expression before turning around.

Shouto looked absolutely gobsmacked. That much he had expected. It was news to him that his brother had ever been inside a thrift shop. Dumpster diving had to be a completely alien and ridiculous notion to him. The self-conscious that it would have sent flooding through him was paused by the expressions everyone else wore. There was obvious curiosity intermingled with Iida’s confusion. Midoriya looked like he had a better idea of what was going on and was fidgeting in what might be nervousness or excitement, maybe both. The most surprising was probably Yaoyorozu, who displayed a layer of hesitance, but was clearly excited beneath it, maybe even eager. Finally, Midnight and Present Mic leaned against a wall a short distance away, engrossed in a hushed conversation. Occasionally, one of them would shoot a glance at the students, but they didn’t look like they were going to stop them.

If the students all seemed to have a hint of repressed melancholia seeping through everything else, he refused to let himself acknowledge it. For the most part, they didn’t look disgusted or upset to be there. That was good enough for him.

Ryouta took a moment to make sure he wasn’t fidgeting before speaking. “I know this looks weird, but they throw out a lot of-” Nice? No, it might be different if it was just Midoriya, but he couldn’t call the stuff he would get from here “nice” when he was speaking to Iida, Yaoyorozu, and Shouto as well. He didn’t need them to start wondering what “bad” was by his standards. “Usable stuff here. As long as you don’t go in the one on the right, it’s pretty clean too.”

After several long seconds in which the only sound came from Uraraka rooting around in the dumpster behind him, Midoriya asked, “What kind of stuff?”

“All sorts!” Ryouta immediately restrained a wince, caught off guard by how loud he was. Loud by his standards, at least. It wasn’t enough to qualify as a shout, but it did bring him close to sounding excited. That wasn’t quite the case. Someone starting a conversation was just such a relief. It meant that they were getting on with it, which brought him one step closer to this moment being over. That the immediate reaction wasn’t one of revulsion made it even better. Even so, he toned his voice down and fought down the warmth threatening to creep up his neck as he continued. “They’ll take pretty much anything, but they get enough donations that they throw away anything flawed. Not just broken stuff. Things with a little tear or dent get tossed as well.”

Iida began to look a little more intrigued, only for it to be overshadowed by a fresh wave of concern. He warily eyed the dumpsters for a moment before speaking up. “Ryouta, are you certain this is legal? I mean no offense by the question, of course!”

“I have it on good authority that it isn’t illegal,” Midnight chimed in. Normally, that particular teacher jumping into a conversation with a devious glimmer in her eyes would make his stomach twist in anxiety. This time, her interruption provided a welcomed distraction from the much more painful sensation of his entire being threatening to tie itself into knots over the legality of his actions being questioned.

With a stiff nod, Ryouta confirmed, “It isn’t.”

“Don’t remind me,” Present Mic grumbled. It earned him a gentle elbow from Midnight and an odd look from Ryouta, but before anyone could ask what he meant, Iida began speaking again.

“If our teachers are alright with it and you’re certain it’s safe, then so am I.” Iida pursed his lips and clasped his hands together, the innocent action managing to increase the discomfort of the situation. Maybe it was the absence of his usual arm movements that was doing it. “I would like to reiterate that I did not mean to insult, offend, or insinuate anything with my question. I understand how it may have come across, although the realization came too late, but that is no excuse!” His hands unclasped, as if it were physically impossible for them to remain still for too long when so much nervous energy was coursing through him. It didn’t bring any relief, considering what he was saying. “I assure you that I would have asked anyone else the same question and-”

Ryouta raised a hand to cut him off before the tirade could take on a life of its own and achieve sentience. “Iida, it’s fine.” He doubted that his fake smile was particularly convincing, but he had to do something. Aside from Uraraka, who may not have heard any of it because of how engrossed in the dumpster she seemed, everyone else looked at least a little, if not very, uncomfortable. Like himself, they were probably all (except Shouto, if he was being honest with himself) well aware of how asking a de-aged criminal if he was breaking the law looked without anyone pointing it out. He didn’t blame Iida anyway. Regardless of Ryouta’s status, it was a reasonable enough question and he knew that he didn’t mean anything by it. All of the stuff that came afterward was just…unnecessary.

A heavy silence fell over the group. It was broken by the dull thud of something hitting the concrete. Ryouta whirled around to see Uraraka scrambling out of the dumpster, where a large, black, malformed bag now laid in front of. “I think there’s a beanbag in there!” she cried. “It felt like everything in there’s soft, too.”

It was like a spell had been broken and everyone suddenly remembered why they were there. While Uraraka got to work opening the trash bag, Midoriya gave a decisive nod before stepping forward and declaring, “I’ll try too.”

That prompted Shouto to make a half-strangled sound before, “Midoriya.”

Midoriya shot him a sheepish grin. “It looks like fun,” he defended, “and if I find something nice…”

Despite knowing that his younger brother definitely didn’t approve of his preferred method of “shopping” method and feeling much more aware of Present Mic and Midnight’s presence than he had been only moments ago, he had to admit that there was something funny about watching the color drain out of Shouto’s face. Ryouta waved an arm at the dumpsters as Midoriya began to walk forward. “Go ahead. You don’t need to wait for my permission. I’m not the keeper of the dumpsters.” Once Midoriya had passed him, Ryouta shot Shouto a smirk that said he was absolutely the keeper of the dumpsters.

His brother looked somewhat pained. “This is…how you got your belongings?” he slowly asked.

Ryouta fought to keep his shame pushed down. It was made easier by the sound of Midoriya climbing into the dumpster and Uraraka squealing excitedly. Apparently, she had found her bean bag. “A lot of them, yes.” He shrugged in an attempt to look casual and decided not to tell him it was also how he planned to get most of his stuff going forward. “It doesn’t cost anything and, as you can see, it pays off.”

As if on cue, Midoriya gleefully exclaimed, “Posters!” His immediate silence afterward suggested that he regretted his nerdy outburst. Even so, Ryouta pointedly raised an eyebrow.

Shouto furrowed his brows. “I know why you don’t want to borrow money, but…” He glanced uncertainly between Ryouta and the dumpsters. He didn’t know if Shouto noticed him pursing his lips slightly or just decided to change tactics, but instead of continuing his previous sentence, he asked, “What if there are rats?”

“Most of them stay with the actual garbage.” Not only did his brother look unconvinced, but the faint widening of his eyes suggested that he was horrified that there might be rats at all. Ryouta snorted. “If you find one, just give it a little nudge and it’ll go away.”

A discomfort not dissimilar to Shouto’s fell over Iida’s face. However, for whatever reason, that was when Yaoyorozu decided to step forward. The nervousness in her expression was largely overpowered by resolve. “I would like to try as well.” Her statement earned her a surprised look from Iida and a partially worried, partially betrayed one from Shouto. The latter’s jaw began to loosen as if he was about to say something, only for him to firmly close it again seconds later.

“Are you sure?” Iida asked, careless or unaware of whatever had held Shouto back. Probably the latter, knowing him. “If a rat bites you, it would mandate a visit to the hospital.”

Yaoyorozu wavered, only to steel herself with a sharp nod. “I’m wearing tall boots. I’ll be fine.”

Ryouta grinned for real. That wasn’t something he had expected, but it was definitely a pleasant surprise. Yaoyorozu returned his expression as she walked past him. Her smile was small and hesitant, but warm and encouraging in a way that didn’t feel condescending. It made him think he was silly to worry about what Shouto would think of his dumpster-diving. He was a rich boy who, although his childhood was incredibly flawed, had never lived anything other than an expensive lifestyle and, from what he remembered, wasn’t the sort of child to be drawn in by “gross” things. Of course he would be put off by dumpster diving. He also knew next to nothing about practical living. If he had never lived with the sort of circumstances that would drive someone to consider it, he would probably think it was gross as well.

That meant that Shouto’s squeamishness was relevant in regards to one thing and one thing alone: mockery.

Ryouta turned on his heels to stride over to the dumpsters. Since Yaoyorozu and Midoriya were both already in the middle dumpster, Midoriya carefully placing what looked like All Might posters in a pile on top of a relatively flat garbage bag while Yaoyorozu poked at something, he moved toward the one on the left. As he walked past her, Uraraka stopped sorting through the pile of tattered Beanie Babies that had been in the bag alongside a sickly-green beanbag chair to shoot him a smile and wink. It almost made him pause. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that she took that bag out when she did.

He quickly brushed that thought aside. There was every chance that he was just overthinking things again.

It was just as easy to climb into the dumpster as he remembered. Once he found his footing atop the pile of bags within, he looked over his shoulder and, in a somewhat stiff and haughty voice, called, “A hero can’t be scared of rats. They’re just a part of life.”

Shouto wrinkled his nose. Victory.

Meanwhile, Iida frowned and, apparently failing to get the joke, said, “There’s a difference between being too scared to do something and not wanting to take an unnecessary risk. You may do as you wish, but we will content ourselves with watching.”

When his classmate finished speaking, Shouto simply said, “Not the life I choose to live.”

Ryouta narrowed his eyes. “The prissy life,” he teased.

Getting an accurate read of Shouto was still a difficult task, but as he watched, he was pretty sure he saw a myriad of subtle changes flicker across his expression. First was amusement, then seriousness, something that could have been uncertainty or worry, and finally, that neutral mask snapped back into position. It remained as Shouto shook his head slowly. “I’m not going to respond to that.”

All thoughts related to whatever his brother might be thinking were forcibly pushed to the back of his mind. Instead, Ryouta not only gave in to but embraced the impulsive urge to say, “You just did.”

Wisely, Shouto didn’t say anything this time.

Spirit bolstered, Ryouta moved to give Iida an amused smirk before finally turning his attention to the contents of the dumpster. He wasn’t even able to finish the first task before the sound of crinkling plastic distracted him. His gaze moved from the class president to Midnight and Present Mic. While the former was still leaning against the wall, an amused look on her face, the latter was kneeling down and rifling through one of the shopping bags. The remainder of how they had essentially foisted their shopping upon the teachers during the walk over made him feel a twinge of guilt, which was promptly overshadowed by confusion when the teacher retrieved what looked like a wad of clothing and stood back up with a triumphant sound.

By that point, everyone else had noticed he was doing something and watched with keen eyes. It also looked like Present Mic couldn’t care less. He strode confidently over to the dumpsters, seemingly unbothered by the curious stares and the gentle thwack Midnight gave his arm as he passed her. As he got closer, Ryouta squinted at the mass he was carrying, only to squint a little harder when he was able to make out what it was.

“Are those…the clothes I wore here?” he asked.

Present Mic didn’t answer at first. He stopped in front of the dumpster on the right, made a face at what Ryouta assumed was the scent of garbage, and dropped the clothes in the dumpster in a motion that managed to feel careless and ceremonial at the same time. Solemnly, he said, “It’s where they belong.” The effect was ruined by him promptly scrambling away from the dumpster and the odor surrounding it. “Let’s just hope Shouta doesn’t find them again.”

Ryouta blinked slowly. Was he really implying what he thought he was implying? With what he knew of Aizawa, it would make sense, yet the prospect that it might be true felt entirely alien. It was enough to make him disregard the waste of clothes for the time being. He cast a searching look at Shouto and Iida, who, much like him, looked like they were cautiously dancing on the brink of a revelation.

There was a faint rustling from the dumpster next to him as Midoriya, who had practically disappeared inside of it in his search for nerd memorabilia and other items of interest, resurfaced. Slowly, he asked, “Are you saying that Mr. Aizawa also…?”

Midnight’s laughter cut through the conversation. “He used to bring us here when we were your age,” she gleefully confirmed.

Present Mic let out an agitated huff. “Don’t remind me.” He pointed a finger at Ryouta and cried out, “Now you know what I’m trying to protect you from! He’s trying to make a miniature version of himself!”

Shouto’s gaze drifted over to Ryouta, thoughtful enough that he could almost feel it. “You do seem to have a lot in common,” he remarked. It didn’t sound like an insult.

Ryouta caught a glimpse of Present Mic rolling his eyes as he walked back over to Midnight. More importantly, he also heard him mutter, “Bet he won’t even turn back into Dabi. The quirk’ll wear off and he’ll just be a second Shouta.” Based off of how they tensed up, so did Shouto and Iida, an awkward tension falling over the group and stilling everyone in its wake.

He understood the concern. It probably wasn’t something Present Mic meant for anyone to overhear besides maybe Midnight - the result of a hero with a voice quirk accidentally speaking a little too loudly - and had the potential to upset him. Ryouta himself was surprised to find that he wasn’t. Maybe it left him feeling a little awkward, especially since the others were looking at him askance, but the muttered jab didn’t bother him. It’d be nice if he didn’t turn back to Dabi, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath. Like everyone else, all he could do was hope he would be different when the quirk did wear off with these new and better experiences in his head.

It would be nice if he were a little better at hoping.

With everyone uncomfortably waiting for someone to break the silence, Ryouta took the opportunity to change the subject. The least he could do was put them out of their misery. Honestly, everyone acting like they were stepping on eggshells around him got a bit tiresome. “We should probably get going soon.” It was as much of a valid point as it was a distraction. The sun had already begun to set. He glanced down at the dumpster.

“I think we can afford ten more minutes,” Midnight said.

After making himself meet the hero’s eyes to give her an appreciative look, Ryouta started to sift through the dumpster. As he searched, it occurred to him that, for all of his apprehensiveness, nothing had gone wrong today. Everything had worked out alright. By the standards of people who’d had normal childhoods and to whom socialization wasn’t such a massive task, it might even be considered uneventful. It was…nice. He had enjoyed it.

It was nice to have an uneventful day for once.

She shook off her disguise like a long-forgotten memory. Golden eyes gleamed with excitement over what she had learned from her little outing. Even though it wasn’t what or who they were looking for, it was still exciting. Or rather, it was exciting once she got past her initial disappointment.

The odds that Dabi would actually be in the mall she had decided to search were admittedly low. She had only gone because it was better than doing nothing and, until they found a solid lead, all they could do was keep looking and hope something popped up. Her hopes hadn’t even been that especially high after days with no luck.

However, when she caught a glimpse of a black leather jacket and corresponding dark attire out of the corner of her eye, her heart leapt into her throat. For a moment, she thought she had found him. It was enough that, even after she moved to get a closer look, for a few heartbeats, she could have sworn that his face was achingly familiar. If she imagined some scars and allowed her mind to wander away from reality...but no. That boy - with his red hair, unblemished skin, wrong age, and different group of friends - couldn’t have been Dabi.

Toga did think he was cute though. Cute and important. After all, it wasn’t every day a new face suddenly manifested amongst class 1-A. That alone was enough to make it worth lingering for a little while longer. At first, she had thought he was just a cute, dark boy with befittingly bloody hair who happened to be friends with one of students, but no, no, no. The way he behaved with the rest of the little heroes, the way they danced and changed and reached out to meet his presence said that, while new and uncomfortable, he was one of them. And a very special one of them, if the complaints of the loud electric boy were anything to go by.

There was a genuine spring in Toga’s step as she headed for the change of clothes she had stored in the alley behind a run-down gas station that was wedged in front of a questionable supermarket and behind a thrift shop. She may not have found Dabi, but she had found someone of interest, not only for herself, but for the League as a whole. Tomura was bound to be interested in the new boy. Perhaps it would even help him calm down a bit, or at least give him something else to think about. The entire League had been tense and stressed since they had realized Dabi was missing. It wasn’t that she wanted them to give up on finding him and write him off as lost - not by any means - but it would be better to keep themselves occupied than dwell on…

Again. If they didn’t find him, that would mean it was happening again. They had lost people during the attack on the training camp and the following raid, but Toga didn’t know them well or care for them. Shigaraki’s Sensei though, that was a hard blow, because while he didn’t mean anything to her, his loss hurt her leader so keenly she could almost taste it. It wasn’t a good taste. Magne - that one had hurt her directly. Her friend dead because she had tried to touch some miserable, stuck-up demon of a man. Tomura’s pain hadn’t tasted good, but Overhaul’s misery, the flavor of vengeance, was absolutely wonderful. It hadn’t brought Magne back though. It had been great, but it didn’t truly fix it. Kurogiri’s arrest was a horrible mixture of both. It had to weigh on Shigaraki, even if he was trying to act strong, and there was no one who she could take vengeance on yet. And now Dabi…

Dabi, who was distant and mysterious but had been there from the beginning, was suddenly gone and they had no idea what had happened. Had whoever had taken him painted him wonderfully red? Red wasn’t his color. He wasn’t someone she loved like that - wasn’t someone she wanted to make bleed - wasn’t someone she wanted to hurt. Wasn’t someone she wanted to - no - they shouldn’t have to lose anyone anymore. When she found them, she would have to return to favor, dye them in shades of red that had nothing to do with blood, make them scream and plead like Overhaul hadn’t in the hope it would taste that much sweeter.

She would. She would. She would. And if it was too late, if they couldn’t find him, if they never knew, then she... she…

She shouldn’t be thinking about this. The “if”s would only bring her down and Spinner had told her she acted “weird” when she was angry and vengeful the other day. Toga thought that was a little hypocritical coming from someone who was weird a lot of the time, but sometimes she thought she caught Shigaraki or Twice sending a worried look her way or that Twice might be trying to calm her down like she had for him once, so she supposed it may have some merit. It felt better to cling to something happy than let herself be swept away by darker feelings anyway.

Although her steps had faltered as her mind threatened to veer toward darker places, she managed to shake it off. By the time she reached the hideout, she had returned to her full, bubbly self. She swung the door open and called out a greeting, heedless of the night that had set in. Tomura wouldn’t be asleep anyway. She wished he would. “I’m baaaack! And I found something interesting!”

As expected, the rusty voice of Shigaraki Tomura rose up to greet her. “Is it important?”

Toga’s smile was unwavering, although it felt like the reminder of exactly what “important” meant right now should make her eyes shine a little less bright. “It’s not related to Dabi,” she said as she pranced out of the entryway and toward the voice, “but it does have to do with Class 1-A.” Fearlessly, she took a seat on the couch beside her bedraggled leader. It was hard to tell with the hand on his face, but sitting there, with pictures of the outside and inside of a warehouse spread out on a table in front of him, she thought he looked more tired than usual. Older, when if she had to guess, she would pin him closer to herself and the hero students than Compress or their teachers in age. The only other person in the room was Mr. Compress, who, despite his mask, she was sure was eyeing him just as closely.

Shigaraki heaved a frustrated snarl of a sigh. “There’s nothing here. All the footage after he started fires was destroyed or…” Stolen. By the heroes. He raised a hand to scratch restlessly at his neck before turning his obscured gaze to Toga.

That was all the cue she needed to start talking. “There’s a new student! He’s definitely with them, but I didn’t hear anything about anyone being replaced. And” - she raised a finger to pause Shigaraki when she saw that he was about to interrupt - “he’s a Todoroki.”

The quiet before Shigaraki spoke was exciting. She could see the interest spark in his red eyes. That made it that much more disappointing when it faltered and faded a second before he said, “We can look into it after we find Dabi.” It seemed that distractions, no matter how promising, were doomed to be tossed aside. Toga couldn’t help but think he was going to wear himself thin at this rate. That, as much as her dismissal, made her shoulders sagged and a faint, disappointed sigh passed her lips.

“You did good finding this!” Compress piped up. “We just have to prioritize right now.”

“Right,” Shigaraki confirmed. “Besides, I need the two of you for a stealth mission. If you get the loot, it could have a much better payoff than stalking the hero wannabes.”

Toga perked up at that. Although there was a graveness to his voice, she saw Tomura’s lips twitch into small smile.”We’ve narrowed the timeframe for Dabi’s disappearance down to his raid on the quirk supplies warehouse. And we know that the heroes didn’t drag him away. So…”

His pause felt like it was purely for dramatic effect. She appreciated it.

“I want you to get me information on everyone who works in the warehouse.”

@mistystarshine notes: We have reached chapter twenty of KiR. The song is 'Thrift Shop' by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. Sometimes, that's how the Crack treated Seriously cookie crumbles. But seriously, thank you so much for all the continued support! It means the world.

For this chapter specifically, I will note that it was a lot of fun writing Toga! I tossed aside a lot if the care I usually take to better convey her mental state and I think it paid off. Also... I hope nearly 20k of fluff (+ Toga) makes up for next chapter, which will, hopefully, demolish you. It won't be the League doing the demolishing! That plot won't move that quickly. But it will be... Explosive.

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