#i did try one when i was in high school but i have no idea which one it was anymore

[jeeseth]

more than friends — ryu sarang x f!reader

you’ve grown sick from receiving love notes and having other students continuously asking you out. so you truly needed sarang to help you with these issues. but as time passed, you two began to develop feelings for one another .

tags 💭 — fluff, non-idol au, high school au, best friends to lovers, fake dating, mens dni, grammatical errors !

"sarang please!"

you desperately pleaded sarang while tugging at her arms. apparently, you can’t take it anymore from all the confessions from the other students every second of the day. that’s why you really REALLY need sarang to help you.

"help you with what exactly?" sarang sighs which make you grin widely. you quickly let go of her arms and shake her instead.

"thank you so much! i’ll treat you dinner later" you fake sobbed and hugs sarang. sarang was taken aback by the sudden affection but still gently caressed your back.

"yeah… now tell me already, what am i supposed to do?" sarang asked, you reluctantly pulled away from sarang’s embrace and look at her with a sheepish smile. sarang smiles softly and raises an eyebrow at your grin. she chuckles softly before ruffling your hair affectionately.

"can you pretend to be my girlfriend?" you said bluntly. it was silent for a moment before sarang finally realised what you just said.

"what?! are you serious?" sarang exclaimed, completely taken aback by your bluntness. but soon she immediately calmed down and sighs softly.

she’s not really complaining because you were looking so desperate for this plus, sarang thinks this is good chance to somehow get way closer to you (even though you two are already close). to be honest, now that sarang think about it she quite like the idea of being your fake girlfriend. she can get to know you more and she can definitely hold your hands more often.

"okay fine, so how are we starting this plan of yours—" you immediately shut sarang and link arms with her. basically dragging sarang to the whole school. much to your surprise, some students were already giving you and sarang some space. and also the confused look on their faces make you giggle.

sarang on the other hand is trying her best to keep her expression in check, even though deep down she can feel the butterflies going crazy in her stomach.

throughout this whole ‘fake dating’ session, you and sarang tried your best to actually looks like y’all are dating. and guess what, of course it works! not to mention but, sarang has somewhat changed (?) you’re not sure if you’re tripping or what but you swear on izna upcoming album that she seems like really really into this role.

days, weeks and even months passed by as you two continue this act. you and sarang will always stuck together no matter where you go. like sarang will literally hold your hand everywhere and!!! those little kisses on your head? you couldn’t help but to blush every time sarang did that. she somehow managed to act like she doesn’t care/mind it which, always surprised you.

"are you two still continuing this act?" jeemin asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. sarang smiles and shrugged playfully.

"yeah, some of the students seems like they still won't leave y/n alone. also, it's not that bad actually being y/n's fake girlfriend" sarang chuckles while gently stroking your head that is on her shoulder.

jungeun snickered at the sight she's seeing. no matter how she looks at it, you two really seems like a real couple with all these physical touches. "just date already then."

you chocked on your own saliva as jungeun blurted that out. being in a relationship with sarang doesn't sound so bad... wait what are you thinking.

"we're just friends, nothing more" you mumbled. thankfully you didn't catch the sad and taken aback expression on sarang's face when you said that. it's clear that sarang wouldn't mind this friendship to develop into something more. but if that was your decision, she can't force you.

sarang stayed quiet as you continue talking with jeemin and jungeun. she can't help but to overthink about what you've said earlier. she'd be lying is she said it doesn't hurt her feelings but she try to be the best friend who will still respect your decision no matter what.

as the times passed by, sarang couldn't ignore this feeling that keeps blooming everyday in her chest. she can't keep bottling her feelings any longer. she likes you and that's final.

sarang decided to talk with jungeun. maybe she can help sarang with this feelings she's been having about you.

"jungeun, you don't understand! i love her but... i don't wanna ruin our friendship." sarang groans in frustration as she talk to jungeun about her feelings towards you.

jungeun sighs softly as she watch sarang suffering. jungeun doesn't know what to do either. because earlier, you also talked to jungeun about how you feel towards sarang. now all jungeun thinking about is how to get you two together. she let out a big sigh before holding sarang's shoulder, making her focused.

"just confess."

"easy for you to say! i don't even know how she feels about me and i, i can't afford to lose this precious friendship with her." sarang sighs and pouted as jungeun let go of her shoulders.

"sarang, trust me on this one. she probably feels the same way but is just too scared to confess, just like you." jungeun assured. sarang sighs and listen to jungeun. she feels less stressed now that jungeun had reassured her. sarang nodded and decided to trust jungeun on this one.

it was one random day. you're on your way to go to the toilet when suddenly you bumped into one of your senior. the scary looking one to. you immediately apologize and tried to walk away but a strong grip on your wrist prevent you from doing so.

"apologize properly." he demanded while towering over you. his grip on your wrist is tight but not tight enough to bruise it (hopefully). you flinched slightly at the height difference, he's way taller and definitely bigger than you. also his gaze is frightening.

"i-i'm sorry, please let me go" you stammered nervously trying to break free from his grasp. he scoffed and tightened his grip on your wrist, looking at you with a lustful eyes.

"well, there’s another way to apologise if you’re interested-" his words were cut off when someone (sarang) pulled you away with her. sarang is also scared to fight back so the best option is to run away, with you.

after a few minutes of running, the scary looking senior is finally no longer in sight. you leans against a wall and catch your breath. sarang stands in front of you, enjoying the sight she’s seeing right now. not in a perverted way. without realising it, sarang leans in resting her forehead against yours.

"are you okay? did he hurt you?" sarang whispered softly while gently caressing your cheeks. you shakes your head and leans into sarang’s touch. her touch is heavenly. sarang smiles softly before kissing your forehead affectionately. simple moment like this is what makes you fall with her more and more.

it was a quiet night, and you and sarang were sitting together on a park bench. the stars were shining brightly overhead, casting a soft glow on everything around you. it had been silent for a while, just enjoying each other's company. suddenly, sarang spoke up, her voice soft and hesitant.

"can I tell you something?"

you looked over at her, curious. "of course," you replied, leaning closer to hear her better.

she took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the night sky. "i have something to confess," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "i…i have feelings for you. real feelings."

you was stunned and speechless for a moment, not sure what to say. you had harbored feelings for her too, but hadn't dared to say anything because you wasn't sure if she felt the same. 

"you… do?" you stumbled out, still trying to process this newfound revelation. without knowing, a small blush already there on your cheeks. sarang turned to look at me, her eyes filled with emotion.

"yes," she said, her voice firmer now. "i do. i’ve had these feelings for a while now, but I was afraid to say anything because i wasn't sure how you felt, and i didn't know if it would ruin our friendship."

you took hold of her hand, squeezing it gently. "it won't ruin our friendship," you assured her. "i actually have feelings for you too."

her lips curved into a wide, relieved smile. "really?" she asked, her voice hopeful. you nodded, feeling a weight lifted off my shoulders.

"yes," you confirmed. "i've been feeling this way for a while now, but i was too scared to say anything, for similar reasons as yours."

you two sat there in silent for a few moments, holding each other’s hands and simply enjoying the moment. then, sarang spoke up again, her voice now filled with affection and love.

"let’s take this fake dating into something else yeah?"

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about superheroes unfortunately

[thereadingchallengechallenge]

if someone wanted to try Robin Hobb's books, how should they go about doing that?

[orcelito]

God, this is fucking crazy

So i only have 3 more classes to take, but it'll cost the same to take 3 classes as 4 classes. So I've been thinking about taking a 4th class just for the hell of it. Something fun and/or easy.

Out of curiosity, I looked up orchestras. I was in it in my first year, but I haven't consistently played since 2016. But I still dream about being in an orchestra again. I *miss it*. So I was like. Well, what if *that* was my 4th class next semester? What If?

I looked it up. This week is the last week they're doing auditions for it. There was only one more spot free after today. And that's *tomorrow evening*.

I haven't really played my violin much in YEARS. I'm so out of practice. But apparently they don't reject anyone outright. Auditions are just for placement. So worst case scenario, I get placed in an orchestra at a lower skill level than I was at my prime. It'd still be an orchestra.

It's crazy short notice, but I don't think I'd forgive myself if I passed it up. Bc I have just one more semester before I graduate. One last opportunity to be in a school orchestra. And if I didn't do this, I'd be left with that What If forever.

So. Crazy short notice, but I have a violin audition tomorrow!!! Hahahaha

[ruler-of-the-universe-boy]

Me when im planning something big but it has this guy

[oranberrie]

Ah the autistic experience of randomly remembering a situation from your childhood and realizing things

[cobwebinthecorner]

the button is right there guys

i called you over because it's literally impossible to do this on my own

for fuck's sake, someone press it

[montanabohemian]

so yesterday i had someone comment on a post i made on IG telling me how "offended" they were because i'd simply ended my post with the phrase "end the occupation and free palestine." so much of what they said was actually insane racist islamophobic bullshit and they managed to end their comment by calling all muslims terrorists and literally parroted the "they want to kill americans" fucking horseshit.

the person that made this comment was by someone i've literally known since grade school. i'm not close friends with them but i've gotten to know them over the years and never once thought they'd say anything like this. i actually thought it was a bot account for like a full minute.

i'm sadly not surprised at the rhetoric because that's where we are. we're right back to twenty years ago during the post 9/11 / war in iraq / war on terror fervor kicked off. i'm just. i had to fight this shit twenty years ago and here we are all over again, except this time with the added benefit of fucking social media.

if simply saying "free palestine" is so inflammatory for you, then that is your fucking problem to work through.

[therosevest]

i. HATE!!!!!!!! that i feel like i can’t have boundaries with this lady without reinforcing the belief that i’m not good enough to be working on this. as if she’s not the one being rude and pushy and intrusive. i don’t think she has much sway or that it will affect me much in the future but it sucks anyway

[coffeebanana]

Every time I read classic books I feel this pressure to enjoy them, and I just...never do? I can appreciate why they're important or influential for their time, and I appreciate that they exist, but...I just don't enjoy the style? Like they tend to be very repetitive and they have a lot of scenes that frankly...don't do anything to move the story forwards. The kinds of things that today would get the story tossed aside by publishers. And obviously I'm not saying it is bad writing, because again--different time period. Different style. But I wish I could be completely comfortable saying I just don't enjoy those books. For me personally, reading them is often more effort than what I get out of them. And sometimes I will read them anyways because I want to understand references people make to them in other books or media, but at the end of the day they don't bring me joy like modern books or fanfiction do and I think that's okay.

[ko-eko-ev-go-ms]

I really really wish dreams were easier to understand/interpret

[foldingfittedsheets]

I always forget this wasn’t a thing everywhere but my high school had a fun and innovative way to torment us in PE. They got heart rate monitors. It was this awful strap that went under the bra line and paired to a watch. The first day was great cause we got to set our resting heart rate. We did this by laying in a dark room and napping.

But then once a week we’d have to strap on these monitors and go running. The monitors were old tech and didn’t always pick up your heartbeat, so you’d have to use cold water between it and your skin to get a better connection, gods know why. Warm water never worked. After the day our watches would be collected and our efforts recorded.

The idea was that if your heart beat too fast you were supposed to stop, and if it was too slow you’d speed up. In practice this was ridiculous, staying in the green zone all class was ridiculously difficult.

Even people like me who were stubbornly resistant to running the mile couldn’t stand the horrific constant beeping and made attempts to placate the reviled machine. It was always fairly miserable. I had PE first thing in the chilly morning, dashing cold water on my skin before running around half awake was the low point of my week.

But for some unknown reason, the teacher insisted that no play could happen on these days. We were given the freedom to run all over campus but woe betide us if we tried to make a game that actually made this enjoyable.

We’d initiate games of tag only to get yelled at for not just… running. Any kind of play was forbidden. On one memorable occasion someone got a kickball and we started an impromptu soccer game with it.

If someone’s heart rate got too high they’d drop to their knees to wait out the shrieking of their watch so an extra element was added to the game of trying to win without going too hard. I remember being absolutely delighted, the thrill of that game still lives in my heart, hoping I could score a goal before my heartbeat betrayed me to the hated watch.

When the PE teacher found us we were soundly scolded and the ball was confiscated. Our happiness burst like a soap bubble and we turned our back to the enchantment of the green field and resumed slogging along in a grey haze as expected.

[jewishvitya]

A pro-Palestine Jew on tiktok asked those of us who were raised pro-Israel, what got us to change our minds on Palestine. I made a video to answer (with my voice, not my face), and a few people watched it and found some value in it. I'm putting this here too. I communicate through text better than voice.

So I feel repetitive for saying this at this point, but I grew up in the West Bank settlements. I wrote this post to give an example of the extent to which Palestinians are dehumanized there.

Where I live now, I meet Palestinians in day to day life. Israeli Arab citizens living their lives. In the West Bank, it was nothing like that. Over there, I only saw them through the electric fence, and the hostility between us and Palestinians was tangible.

When you're a child being brought into the situation, you don't experience the context, you don't experience the history, you don't know why they're hostile to you. You just feel "these people hate me, they don't want me to exist." And that bubble was my reality. So when I was taught in school that everything we did was in self defense, that our military is special and uniquely ethical because it's the only defensive military in the world - that made sense to me. It slotted neatly into the reality I knew.

One of the first things to burst the bubble for me was when I spoke to an old Israeli man and he was talking about his trauma from battle. I don't remember what he said, but it hit me wrong. It conflicted with the history as I understood it. So I was a bit desperate to make it make sense again, and I said, "But everything we did was in self defense, right?"

He kinda looked at me, couldn't understand at all why I was upset, and he went, "We destroyed whole villages. Of course we did. It was war, that's what you do."

And that casual "of course" stuck with me. I had to look into it more.

I couldn't look at more accurate history, and not at accounts by Palestinians, I was too primed against these sources to trust them. The community I grew up in had an anti-intellectual element to it where scholars weren't trusted about things like this.

So what really solidified this for me, was seeing Palestinian culture.

Because part of the story that Israel tells us to justify everything, is that Palestinians are not a distinct group of people, they're just Arabs. They belong to the nations around us. They insist on being here because they want to deny us a homeland. The Palestinian identity exists to hurt us. This, because the idea of displacing them and taking over their lands doesn't sound like stealing, if this was never theirs and they're only pretending because they want to deprive us.

But then foods, dances, clothing, embroidery, the Palestinian dialect. These things are history. They don't pop into existence just because you hate Jews and they're trying to move here. How gorgeous is the Palestinian thobe? How stunning is tatreez in general? And when I saw specific patterns belonging to different regions of Palestine?

All of these painted for me a rich shared life of a group of people, and countered the narrative that the Palestininian identity was fabricated to hurt us. It taught me that, whatever we call them, whatever they call themselves, they have a history in this land, they have a right to it, they have a connection to it that we can't override with our own.

I started having conversations with leftist friends. Confronting the fact that the borders of the occupied territories are arbitrary and every Israeli city was taken from them. In one of those conversations, I was encouraged to rethink how I imagine peace.

This also goes back to schooling. Because they drilled into us, we're the ones who want peace, they're the ones who keep fighting, they're just so dedicated to death and killing and they won't leave us alone.

In high school, we had a stadium event with a speaker who was telling us about a person who defected from Hamas, converted to Christianity and became a Shin Bet agent. Pretty sure you can read this in the book "Son of Hamas." A lot of my friends read the book, I didn't read it, I only know what I was told in that lecture. I guess they couldn't risk us missing out on the indoctrination if we chose not to read it.

One of the things they told us was how he thought, we've been fighting with them for so long, Israelis must have a culture around the glorification of violence. And he looked for that in music. He looked for songs about war. And for a while he just couldn't find any, but when he did, he translated it more fully, and he found out the song was about an end to wars. And this, according to the story as I was told it, was one of the things that convinced him. If you know know the current trending Israeli "war anthem," you know this flimsy reasoning doesn't work.

Back then, my friend encouraged me to think more critically about how we as Israelis envision peace, as the absence of resistance. And how self-centered it is. They can be suffering under our occupation, but as long as it doesn't reach us, that's called peace. So of course we want it and they don't.

Unless we're willing to work to change the situation entirely, our calls for peace are just "please stop fighting back against the harm we cause you."

In this video, Shlomo Yitzchak shares how he changed his mind. His story is much more interesting than mine, and he's much more eloquent telling it. He mentions how he was taught to fear Palestinians. An automatic thought, "If I go with you, you'll kill me." I was taught this too. I was taught that, if I'm in a taxi, I should be looking at the driver's name. And if that name is Arab, I should watch the road and the route he's taking, to be prepared in case he wants to take me somewhere to kill me. Just a random person trying to work. For years it stayed a habit, I'd automatically look at the driver's name. Even after knowing that I want to align myself with liberation, justice, and equality. It was a process of unlearning.

On October, not long after the current escalation of violence, I had to take a taxi again. A Jewish driver stopped and told me he'll take me, "so an Arab doesn't get you." Israeli Jews are so comfortable saying things like this to each other. My neighbors discussed a Palestinian employee, with one saying "We should tell him not to come anymore, that we want to hire a Jew." The second answered, "No, he'll say it's discrimination," like it would be so ridiculous of him. And the first just shrugged, "So we don't have to tell him why." They didn't go through with it, but they were so casual about this conversation.

In the Torah, we're told to treat those who are foreign to us well, because we know what it's like to be the foreigner. Fighting back against oppression is the natural human thing to do. We know it because we lived it. And as soon as I looked at things from this angle, it wasn't really a choice of what to support.

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 5:48

Bakugou’s in his third year of high school when he finally invites you over to his house. The reason? To finish a calculus project.

You’d think that after surviving through the hardships of being a hero-in-training together for three years, saving each other’s lives (more often you were the one being saved than doing the saving, really), and whatnot, he would’ve invited you sooner to his home (one could dream).

But this was Bakugou, after all.

And he knew that something was off the moment he left you to share a conversation with his mom while he went to get his books from his room—the greatest mistake he could have ever done because by the time he’s making his way back, Bakugou could hear you snickering to yourself.

Not a good sign.

“I’m not going to lie; you looked hideous when you were a baby,” you say, reading through Bakugou’s baby album.

Bakugou froze. He had absolutely no idea why his mother would cave in and give you the godforsaken album from when he was young, but of course she would’ve agreed with your request to see it if you did so much as mention it.

He dropped the books he’d grabbed from on top of his desk on top of the living room table before whipping his attention towards you, an indignant scoff escaping through his nose before he took a few slow, but heavy stomps over to you—practically snatching the album from your grasp when he’s within reach.

“Stop looking through those stupid pictures.”

“Hey! I wasn’t finished,” you reply with a frown. “You’re lucky my phone’s battery just died, or else I would’ve taken a billion photos.”

Bakugou’s jaw clenched slightly as he grumbled curses under his breath, trying to flip through the album in his hands to make sure you hadn’t managed to sneak a photo out—a small sigh of relief rolling off of his tongue to find that, luckily, it was still how his parents had done it.

He shot a glare over towards you, stuffing the album back into its original spot on one of the bookshelves, his nose crinkling as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t care; tell anyone what you saw, and you’ll drop dead,” he tells you.

“Oh, but how could I not? That photo album’s like hitting the jackpot—so many super ultra rare photocards of you,” you gushed, blatantly disregarding his usual threat. “Come on, I wanna see the rest!”

“Absolutely not.” 

Bakugou knew the damn photos were in the back of the album. There were probably a handful of the ones where he was in the bathtub, butt-naked—a common photo in most photo albums he’s seen, at least. Other photos include when he was three years old and wore an All Might onesie for his birthday, pictures of him during his school recital where he was the prince, him with a bald haircut, and so much more blackmail material. 

It was humiliating, for goodness sake! And he knew you’d just tease him mercilessly if you saw it.

You’ll never let him live it down, so it’s best to deprive you of it.

“Don’t come at me for saying this, but I was the cutest baby in our village back then,” you told him proudly. “Had the roundest cheeks and brightest smile, trust.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, a huff of air forcing itself past his lips. That was one thing about you that he couldn’t stand; you were so full of yourself most of the time—you’d always been like that, and he absolutely loathed it. It could be that it reminds him of himself, so the competitive meter on his head just flares whenever he’s around you.

“I doubt you were even 1% of how adorable I was as a baby.”

“Have you seen me?” you gestured to your face with your hands to emphasize your facial features. 

“I’m still as cute even now. And no offense, Bakugou,” you giggled, “you looked like a wrinkly raisin on your first few days on this Earth.”

Bakugou’s smirk dropped. He’d almost forgotten that you had seen the stupid pictures already.

“Shut the hell up. It wasn’t that bad.” He muttered quietly, his hands balling into frustrated fists. His parents always assured him that he was a cute kid when he was small—but to hear that YOU of all people, are in disagreement with that is just aggravating.

“Fine, fine. Quits it is,” you hum. “Let’s do that calculus project so I can get home before sunset.”

Bakugou grumbled something inaudible under his breath, reluctantly nodding his head in agreement. There was no point in arguing about something so idiotic—after all, both of you were there to get a project done, not to sit around and bicker about his past.

He took a few steps over to the living room table before plopping down on the polished floor ungracefully, yanking out his notes before he gestured his hand over towards the free space next to him.

“Sit down. Let’s just get this thing done and over with already.”

Bakugou had already started working silently by the time you sat down; his hand was writing almost furiously as he copied equations onto his paper. He kept his attention focused on his notes, trying to stay quiet as he focused completely on completing the project.

He eventually stopped writing for a moment, turning his gaze over to glance at what you were doing before clicking his tongue at the sight. Bakugou could already see a few mistakes you’d made with your work.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he says.

“Wait, I’ve barely turned on the calculator, jeez.” You shook your head, solving the equation through your calculator.

“And that’s how I know you’re doing it wrong.” Bakugou huffed, shaking his own head in disappointment. 

“Formula first before adding 1.3.”

He pulled out a pen and began scribbling down on his own paper, glancing at yours every once in a while to compare the work. He knew from his experience that you were decent at math (he’d rather die than tell you that), but this was just pitiful even by your standards.

“Have you been dozing off during Ectoplasm’s class?”

“Ouch. Do you have a personal grudge against keeping the not-so-nice stuff from leaving your mouth?” you sigh. “You’re hurting my feelings— I’m devastated.”

He had a feeling you’d say something like that, and he was prepared to ignore your attempts at gaining sympathy from him.

“Unfortunately, you’ll fucking live,” Bakugou says, scribbling down the last of his work before turning it towards you. “And learn how to solve equations too, while you’re at it.”

“I know how to do it; calm down.” You huff, rewriting your solutions.

Bakugou raised a skeptical eyebrow, his head tilting with a hint of disbelief. Even if he knew you were capable of doing math, you had a bad habit of missing even the smallest details, like the operation to be used in your work, leading to the wrong answers.

His eyes scanned over the work you’d written on your paper before letting out a small huff. “Looks right. Are you done with your half?”

“Yep, yep. Are you going to write it down on our answer sheet, or should I do it?” you offered.

Bakugou glanced down at the answer sheet set to the side before picking it up and nodding. He was already holding a pen while you were still using a pencil, so it would make more sense for him to be the one to write it all down.

He began copying down the answers slowly and carefully, each number being written out with ease as his eyes flicked back and forth from the worksheet to the sheet of answers.

With him busy jotting down the answers, you occupied yourself with taking in the interior of his living room. It was beautiful, neat, and just screamed rich—not really what you expected (you really didn’t know what to expect, honestly). “Y’know,” you mention, glancing around. “You have a nice house.”

Bakugou hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes remaining focused on his task. It kind of took him by surprise to hear you say something out of the blue—about his house, no less. He’d fully expected you to talk about something else, like school or that new show you’ve been begging him to watch.

It went against what Bakugou had originally thought, which led him to look over at you from the corner of his eye, silently raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a nice house,” he said casually, his pen continuing to move over the paper. His penmanship was neat, and Bakugou hears you in awe. 

Bakugou continued to finish writing down the last of the answers, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed you looking around his house. It was obvious what was happening, but he decided to ignore it in favor of just getting the godforsaken project done.

He finished soon enough, his pen rolling back with a click before he leaned back a little and let out a small huff. “We’re done. Finally.”

“Nice, nice.” Glancing at your watch, you concluded, “I should get home.”

Bakugou was silent, rolling his shoulders and neck before glancing out of the nearby window. The sun had already begun to set over the sky, the day quickly slipping away into the night.

“Yeah, whatever. You need me to walk you home or something?” He asks gruffly.

“Nah, I’m good. I need to say goodbye to your parents, too.”

Bakugou watched as you packed up all of your belongings, a scoff rolling off of his tongue. It felt almost weird to be civil with each other, neither of you having taken jabs or making snarky remarks to taunt one another. 

“Alright, fine,” he finally said, standing up from his seat and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go find my parents then.”

He led you down the hall and into the kitchen area, his ears vaguely picking up the sounds of his mother and father talking amongst themselves about… something. He couldn’t tell what exactly, and frankly, he barely even cared.

“Mom, Dad.” He spoke up, capturing the attention of his parents. 

Mitsuki looked over at him, a smile spreading across her face. Masaru looked in the same direction, a warm smile forming on his face as well.

“Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou,” you said in gratitude. “I’ll be going home now before it gets too late.”

His parents shared a hum in acknowledgment, with his mother being the one to speak up first. She had a knowing grin on her face as she clasped her hands together, her eyes flickering over to her son.

“You’re welcome. You should come over more often,” Mitsuki said enthusiastically, her voice taking on a slightly smug tone.

Masaru laughed as he nodded in agreement. He gave a knowing look to his wife before he looked back over at you. “You should join us for dinner; we already made enough for you to join us.”

“I’d love to, sir, but my folks are waiting for me at home,” you answered sheepishly.

Bakugou noticed the glance his parents exchanged and immediately knew what they were thinking. He almost grumbled in frustration, already knowing that they’d ask him about you later after you left.

His mother spoke up once again, her smug grin growing wider. “You’re always welcome here,” she repeated, her eyes flickering over to her son as her voice came out teasing. “After all, Katsuki’s always in a ‘better’ mood when you’re around.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, ma'am. I’m a joy to be around, after all,” you lightly joked, though you still maintained a respectful tone.

His parents were easier to get along with than you thought.

Bakugou’s eye twitched in annoyance at your words, almost making him want to quip back at your cocky behavior. However, it was the sound of his mother’s sudden laughter that stopped him from doing so.

Mitsuki mother put her hand up to her mouth briefly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she continued to chuckle. The expression on her face was elated, and it was pissing him off even more, knowing what’s to come. 

“I like this one,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Masaru added, “And clearly, so does Ka—“

“All right! They need to get going to catch the shitty train.”

By the time Bakugou accompanied you to the door, he had this obvious scowl on his face. “You’re never comin’ back here again, dipshit.”

“Wha— no fair! Why am I getting banned from the Bakugou residence when this is my first time here?” you replied.

“Shut up,” he grunts. “I could do whatever the hell I want because it’s my house, too.”

“Too bad I have your Mom’s number—“

“Delete that.”

“Hey— wai— no way!”

It was not the last time you were ever invited to the Bakugou residence.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[itgetzweird08]

“Damn- already Bakugo? The movie isn’t even over!”

Denki whined, grabbing the remote to pause the comedy that was playing on the tv. It was movie night in the dorms, a way for the class to bond and decompress after classes. Everyone was huddled together, wrapped in blankets and sharing snacks. All accept Bakugo, who scowled at his yellow haired friend.

“It’s my bed time. I’ll see you nerds in the morning.” Denki huffed, crossing his arms as he muttered about Bakugo’s old man behavior. But Kirishima smiled, giving him a short wave and a “sleep well Baku-bro!”. The rest of the class also sent their goodnight wishes as Bakugo headed to his room.

It was only 8:30, which was a bit early even for Bakugo. He usually headed to bed around 9, but tonight was special.

When he got to his room, he locked his door and walked to his mirror, making sure his hair was to his liking and that there was no popcorn in his teeth. When he caught himself fretting over his appearance, he rolled his eyes and scoffed, wiping his sweaty palms on his jogging pants. ‘The fuck am I worried for? It’s just a Skype call’. And while he was right, it was just a call, it was a call with /you/.

You and Bakugo had been dating long distance for the past year and a half.

You met at the I-island convention, where you two got into a friendly competition at one of the challenges. After you managed to beat him at his own game, he recruited Mina to find you on social media. Anyone who could beat him was special..and it didn’t hurt that you were gorgeous to boot. However, his heart sank when he found out that you didn’t live in Japan. Still, he decided to follow and dm you anyways..which you promptly answered. The two of you have been talking non stop ever since.

What was just messaging turned into calling, then FaceTiming, to full on movie nights where you would count down to try and start the movie at the same time. And while it was inconvenient, it was fun. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Which is why he was always promptly on time for your calls. You had both been busy that week, so you weren’t able to talk as much as you normally did, which is why you scheduled the call. With the time difference, you would be slowly waking up to get ready for school while he was going to bed. He was able to tell you about his day, while he watched you get ready for yours.

The time difference was a hard challenge to navigate, but you made it work. Talking to eachother was the high light of both of your days. You loved seeing his face and hearing his voice, even if it was virtual and he loved the same. You were both very meticulous in nature as well, making sure that your times were aligned to get the most out of your talks as possible. That way, it always felt like enough.

And while it would be nice to hold him, to see his face in person, to kiss him..this was enough for now.

Bakugo hopped into his bed, plugging up his phone before pressing call and waiting for you to answer. And when you did, he was met with sleepy eyes and a warm smile. He could’ve sworn his heart was doing actual backflips.

“Hi Kats..”

“Morning dumbass”

You smiled at him, your heart fluttering at his teasing. And just by seeing your smile he knew, that until he could get to you, this would be enough for him.

——————

Ps: im starting to do requests! So if you have an idea for me, go ahead and put it in my asks <3

[park-jimin-isnt-real]

tell me I'm alive album (all time low) 🤝🏻 1989 Taylor's version 🤝🏻 d-day album (agust d)

Heal your inner child already for fuck's sake