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vhstown · 4 months ago

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ain't no love; epilogue

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SERIES SUMMARY: Miles G Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life one in the middle of the semester, the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 5 / EPILOGUE

chapter summary: You and Miles share a few months of normalcy. And maybe something new, too.

content/warnings: depictions of miles (whipped) morales

word count: 1.5k

a/n: wahoo we did it guys thank u to @/qiuweyballs forever for proofreading LETS FREAKING GO MAN

"You sure it's five dollars?"

"Four dollars, ninety-nine," the man behind the counter replied, grinning until his eyes were barely visible behind his tinted glasses. "Completely positive, young man."

"Aight, sure. Here."

While Miles was sure the man had definitely stuck another price on top of the original one, he didn't really want to stay in this rickety old comic book store any longer. Miles' hand had gotten kind of sweaty from holding yours by now — not that he minded. It was totally fine that he was also sweaty everywhere else he had skin. When had he gotten this sweaty? He was done with puberty. He was a man. He was your… Uh…

"Are we going?"

Your voice broke his trail of thoughts as his eyes jump from the counter to you. Right. You'd agreed to go out with him. And at the end of this, if he would just stop sweating, maybe you'd go out with him again. And it wouldn't be to Marge's like the first thing he suggested when he was totally out of it before realising that probably wasn't the best place for a date.

"Miles?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. My bad."

He snatched up the comic book, the man's squinted eyes never leaving him. That head of silvery hair had once been closer to brown, maybe when comic books didn't go for five whole dollars. "NO REFUNDS. EVER." passed him by as he left the store, his hand still in yours, trying so hard to not move but also to get into a less sweaty position. This was the last comic book he'd ever buy, damn it.

It was coming to the start of spring, and that meant the day was a little more ideal for a date. Visions did like to run things a lot more intensely, but you'd finally managed to make it to your next break. The two of you had more time to spend together now that most exams were over, and you'd spent the whole of today going to places that Miles had wanted to show you for a while.

In-between that, there had been a lot of explaining too — to both you and Uncle Aaron. He'd told you everything from the start, even if piece by piece on lunch breaks, or texts, or late night phone calls that you somehow managed to pick up regardless of the time. He told you how he'd gotten into Visions, why he was "so good at math" it annoyed you. He told you what happened to his dad, who his uncle was, what his Prowler gig was. He told you about college, and about his mom. Thank God you and his mom got along. It had been pretty tense when she'd found out he'd tried to quit school.

Being back in Visions, Miles had also told you all about his new roommate, Ganke. Devising ways to get out of school was particularly annoying, with Ganke staying up all night to work on some thesis. Ultra-smart. Way too good at video games. Maybe a little better at physics than him. What type of high-schooler has a thesis to work on anyway? He didn't mind the guy, though. It was nice to kick back and play games with someone again.

The most recent thing he'd told you, however, had been rather short. One word and one action he'd decided on in a split second while you were working on math homework together. He'd taken some… advice. Usually his uncle's advice would be good and thoughtful, but this little incident had been chipping away at his mind all week.

"Hey." That god-damned shoulder touch.

"…Hey yourself?"

The silence. It was the loudest thing he'd ever heard.

"You gonna… ask me out now?"

"What?" His voice had shot up about nineteen octaves. The highest thing he'd ever heard.

"I mean, what is this?"

"I didn't say… Wait—"

"What?"

"Wait, wait, no— Yes—"

"Miles?"

"Can I take you out? Please?"

You laughed, and his face had gotten stuck. It was one of your cute laughs. No, every one of your laughs was cute. No, wait, yes—

"Hey, look, it's the superhero you like."

MIles turned to see what you're looking at, and nearly spins himself around 360 degrees in the process. Totally on purpose, because he was cool. Not because he was still sweating.

"Oh, yeah," he commented, squinting at the cosplayer. "Huh."

"There's tons of people dressed up…"

"Probably Comic-Con, or something."

You just nodded thoughtfully, looking around at all the cosplayers passing by. Maybe the Prowler thing would pay eventually, or he could get an actual part-time job. He could take you both.

Miles let out a sigh, before feeling your hand squeeze his.

"We've been out for a while." There you were again, the bustle of the city muffling behind the sound of your voice. There was a little smile on your face, and he found the corners of his mouth were trying to lift up without his knowledge. "You wanna go back to yours?"

And so he was back in his room. That walk had been way too short to think of ways to be cool. You'd been in here a few times by now, studying, playing video games, peeking at the figurines he'd put away to potentially sell. Reading the comics he liked, even if their price was starting to make him wince a little. You seemed to like it, though, even if his room was starting to become barren of things he might as well have grown out of by now.

"The food was good," you started, as the two of you settled down in his room.

"Hope that place stays open," he muttered, trying to reel in the sense of weariness in his voice.

"Why wouldn't they? It looks like they're doing well."

"Exactly. They get bought out as soon as they do."

"Oh."

Way to sour the mood, Morales. How is that even relevant?

"You're right, though," you contemplated, frowning a little. "It feels like everything's getting bought up recently. Even Vision's cafeteria changed companies."

"Eugh, don't remind me," he replied, rolling his shoulders to make a show. "That food is lethal."

"You'd think Visions of all places would have decent lunch."

"Exactly. At least they've still got vending machines." He couldn't believe he didn't know you could cheat them until you showed him. This vending machine business was lucrative.

"True."

Miles tried looking at you, but only got to looking at your knee. His heart stops when he feels your arm around him, and he finally meets your expression. That little gleam in your eye doesn't go unnoticed.

"Thanks for the date," you start.

"Anyti—" Your lips pressed against his cheek before he could finish.

Miles fought valiantly, but the grin that formed on his face fought harder.

"Did you uh… did you miss?" he muttered, without thinking. Did you miss…? Did I miss all fifteen years my mom raised me?!

"No…?" you replied, laughing awkwardly. God, he totally just bombed it. "Do you… want to?"

Okay, he didn't just totally bomb it. He had a chance. Did he even really wanna kiss you yet? No, yeah, he really did. Why can't I move?!

"I don't know how to… how to… you know."

He had only planned so far ahead. Miles had no idea how to kiss someone.

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Just do it."

He closed his eyes, feeling your hand give his a little squeeze, before he felt the faint brush of breath against his lips. And then he felt warmth. The taste of lip balm he'd let you borrow. He was kissing you.

Miles kept his eyes closed, but his hand had found the small of your back anyway, pulling you closer. The kiss had only lasted for a few moments, but when he finally opened his eyes, the world was a lot brighter than he remembered. Your smile was a lot brighter than he remembered. His face was a lot hotter than he remembered.

"The next one's on you," you murmured, simply. He could feel the words against his skin, tickling his face. You were insanely good-looking this close.

"Cool." His voice came out in a slightly breathless mumble.

His lips found yours again, and his eyes fell shut. He felt his shoulders relax. His heart had finally started to slow from its pounding. He wasn't sweating anymore.

And he was kissing you. You were his. He sure as hell was yours.

"Stay," he murmured against your mouth, his eyes on yours.

"How long?"

"Forever."

"Forever?" The two of your quiet laughs are muffled with another kiss.

"Yeah," Miles replied, as his hand went up to cup your cheek. "I got so much more to tell you."

my lovely jubly taglist: @noetophat @sakura-onesan @bakugouswaif @phoenixinthefiles @daydreaming-en-pointe @sp1derw1re @kvvrc @spookyscaryskeletrans @kirishimasproteinpowder @spam-1 @playboifenty @hobiebrownismygod @kissingkzuha @nyumeii @uwukiity @itzmeme @shittingonyourgrave @theyluvbix @kezibear @theseustimes

thank you so much for reading aint no love! could not appreciate all of the love (haha) on this series 💗💗💗 this was so crazy but so fun i never thought id be able to complete a longer thing of writing like this but here we are!

a big thank you to my friend chewy too who had to listen to me rant about this series at pretty unethical times of the day and also read through all my not so lovely drafts 🫡🫡🫡

if you have any questions about this universe or series or anything in general my inbox is open!

reblogs and replies are much appreciated as always, and you can find my atsv masterlist here!

#miles g morales x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #atsv fanfiction #earth 42 miles x reader #prowler miles x reader #miles g morales #miles gonzalo morales #42!miles #miles g #prowler miles #atsv x you #atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #vhstown

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teaplease1717 · 5 years ago

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Fireworks

Title: Fireworks

Relationship: Todoroki Shouto x Yaoyorozu Momo

Chapters: 1 of 3

Rating: G+

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26685007/chapters/65087851

A little late, but happy second year writing anniversary to me! Wahoo! Thank you everyone who has supported me over the last year. It sure has been crazy, but seriously all your love, kudos, and comments have kept me going. THANK YOU!

This is a small 3 part story that was originally going to be a one shot, but got really long. And since I hate long chapters decided to break it up into 3 parts. All the parts are done but won't be posted until they've been beta read.

Shout out to all my betas for this work: FlourChildWrites, Emberstork, Crazyelf2018 and C's Melody ! (thanks also to Taq too for calming me down when I was a spaz, and Revaliciousness for doing a final read)

And, staying on the topic of betas, HUGE shout outs to my betas for the entire year: C’s Melody and FlourChildWrites. They’ve been helping kick Ashes of Love and War into shape and seriously I could not have done it without them. Any beautiful imagery is thanks to FlourChildWrites pushing me to be more descriptive. And, although as readers you probably can’t see it, C’s Melody has helped with the story flow and advised where scenes didn’t hit. Both have pushed me to be a better writer and I’ve learned so much from them, so thank you!

To celebrate my anniversary, I’m throwing everything I’ve learned into this piece. Last year, my big takeaway was how to keep a scene in one character’s pov and I got better at adding movement to bring a scene to life. This year, I think my biggest improvements have been learning when to use commas vs periods in dialogue and how to make sentences shorter and to the point.

Other notes, this piece was heavily inspired by Kaguya-sama: Love is War. I watched both seasons of Kaguya-sama and fell absolutely in love. I’m not usually into those kinds of romantic comedy stories but this show killed me. So now you all have to put up with my TodoMomo version of the fireworks episode.

XXXXXX

“I’ve got it!” Ashido’s chair screeched back, and she slammed her hands down onto the dorm’s dining table, causing Momo to start. Hagakure’s fingers paused in Momo’s hair as Ashido looked excitedly between the class 2-A girls. “We should go to the Sumidagawa festival!”

It had been a month since the last of the cherry blossoms had fallen, and the brisk chill of spring had given way to the cloying heat of summer. With the changing seasons and their fast-approaching summer break, an infectious excitement had taken root in class 2-A.

Unlike their first year, when they had been shipped off to the mountains to train, the summer of the class’ second year was looking to be far more tame. No training camps. No extra classes. Besides their mandatory part-time internships for the holidays, U.A. was leaving the students to enjoy their second-year summer in relative peace. And no one appeared more excited about this than Ashido Mina, who had called an ‘emergency’ girls meeting to discuss possible options.

“Sumidagawa?” Momo repeated slowly. She could feel Hagakure’s fingers scrape lightly against her scalp as she resumed braiding her hair. Momo looked down and pressed the knuckle of her index finger to her chin, trying to remember where she had heard the name before. She had only been to a festival once before — during first year, with Todoroki Shouto.

Momo felt her heart stutter in the manner she was growing accustomed to when thinking about her seatmate. Recently, her mind had grown prone to fixating and overanalyzing Todoroki Shouto’s words and actions. And, in particular, one of her favorite moments to focus on was their time together exploring and watching fireworks at the Ennichi festival.

She shifted in her chair, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles from her lace night shorts. Her fingers caught at the edge of the fabric and Momo wrapped the end around her finger. There was no reason for her to be thinking about it this much. Todoroki showing up at the festival had been a coincidence. And his decision to escort her was an act of kindness that any hero in training would extend to a fellow classmate. So why? Why did her mind insist on returning to that night, over and over?

It must be because Todoroki had never expressed interest in spending time with her before that night. In fact, up until the sports festival, he had seemed the solitary type, uninterested in getting to know anyone in their class. The fact that he felt comfortable enough to open up to her, of all people, about his family made her chest swell with happiness.

“It’s super, super amazing!” Ashido continued excitedly, drawing Momo out of her thoughts. “And it’s not too far from here. We have to go.”

The name finally clicked, and Momo looked up at the girls surrounding the table. “Ah, I’ve seen the Sumidagawa fireworks from my room before.” She held up a finger and smiled. “It’s a historic event that can be traced back to the Kyoto famine in 1732, when fireworks were launched as part of festivals for the dead –“

“No!” Ashido interrupted, crossing her arms into an ‘x’ above her head. “That’s not why we are going, Yaomomo!”

“Vice President, that’s not it at all,” Hagakure chastised lightly from behind her, her invisible fingers pausing their task of pleating Momo’s hair into a braid. “The festival is about fireworks, food stalls, and yukatas.”

“Exactly!” Ashido’s voice cracked as she nodded in agreement.

“They’ll have so much good food,” Uraraka echoed from across the table, cupping her cheeks. “Okonomiyaki, yaki imo, takayaki...”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Hagakure said, unintentionally yanking a section of Momo’s hair, making her flinch. “And they’ll have your favorite Uraraka-chan — mochi!”

“Mochi!” Uraraka’s voice grew shrill on the word. Her expression lit up as if she already tasted it.

Momo hid a giggle behind her hand.

“It would definitely be a fun summer activity, kero,” Asui added, tapping her chin and smiling. “My sister gave me a new hair clip that I’ve been meaning to wear.”

“I’m sure the guys would love to go too,” Uraraka said, pressing her fingers together, except for her pinkies which stuck up in the air.

Jirou raised an eyebrow as she looked across the table at Uraraka. “Are we inviting the guys? Or keeping it just us?” she asked, twirling her earphone jack around her finger.

“I think we should include them,” Uraraka said thoughtfully. “It would be fun to do something all together.”

Ashido leaned closer to Uraraka, a grin twisting across her lips. “So sly, Urarka-chan,” she said, elbowing her in the side. “You just want to hang out with Mi-do-ri-ya, don’t you?” she whispered in a sing-song tone. The black of her eyes glittered suggestively.

Uraraka flushed. “No! It’s nothing like that,” she said, waving her hands in front of herself frantically. Her eyes glanced around the living room quickly. It was deserted except for them. Uraraka’s shoulders relaxed and she leaned back in her chair. “I just…” she trailed off, dropping her gaze down to the table. Her expression turned whimsical. “It's just maybe our last year that we can do something like this — all together — before we graduate.”

Momo’s chest tightened.

“Ochako-chan,” Asui said; her voice was soft. She reached over to rub Uraraka’s back.

Everyone’s expressions fell as the reality of Uraraka’s words hung over them. Once they became third years, they’d be busy interning and applying to agencies; they wouldn’t have time to spend going to festivals. And, even if they did, the likelihood that they would all have the same evening off on one of Japan’s busiest days of the year was slim.

Momo bit her lip. She had enjoyed seeing the fireworks last year at Ennichi with Todoroki —

Todoroki.

Would this be the last chance she’d get to see them with him? Momo's heart dropped.

Ashido’s expression flickered, and she straightened. “That settles it,” she said firmly, curling her left hand into a loose fist and pounding it against her right palm. Her eyes were intent. “Let’s invite everyone. We have to live this up if it’s going to be our last summer that we can all hang out together!”

Momo nodded, her spirits lifting at Ashido’s words. “I can speak to Iida-san about the planning.”

Ashido gave her a thumbs up. “Perfect!”

“And we have to dress up,” Hagakure stressed.

Ashido’s expression lit up. “Of course! If we are going to take pictures, we got to look good.”

“If we are going to dress up, I think I’ll have to go buy a new yukata,” Jirou said, a small smile pulling at her lips.

Momo felt a rush of excitement. “I know a wonderful shop that sells yukatas!” She laid her hand over her chest and smiled brightly. “Why don't we go together? And anyone else who needs one is welcome to join us, of course!”

"Oh! To be expected of our Vice President," Hagakure said. Her voice was filled with admiration.

Momo’s cheeks warmed under the praise as she watched the elastic sitting on the table float up and disappear behind her head. She felt Hagakure’s fingers thread the ends of her hair through the band and release the loose braid with a snap.

“Then that settles it. The Sumidagawa festival it is!” Ashido cried, pumping her fist into the air. “Summer here we come!”

XXXXXX

Momo took a sip of her lavender tea, then tilted her head back to stare at the vase of wisteria flowers that sat on the shelf above her vanity. It had been an hour since Ashido’s summer planning meeting had ended. She should be going to bed, but her usual bedtime ritual didn’t seem to be calming her eager thoughts.

Her stomach fluttered. She dropped her gaze back down to stare blankly at the chemistry encyclopedia that laid open in front of her.

It sounded fun — going to the festival with everyone — with him.

Her hands curled tighter around her warm cup, and she smiled to herself. Last year, Todoroki had escorted her through the Ennichi festival, but they had both been too new to the experience to do anything more than explore the stalls.

Perhaps, going back this year, she could try some of the food Uraraka had mentioned, maybe even play street games. Would Todoroki want to escort her once more? Her heartbeat increased. And what if he complimented her on her yukata again?

‘It suits you.’

Heat spread across her face, staining her cheeks pink. Momo shook her head. Placing her cup down on her desk, her lips thinned. This was going to be a class activity. A class activity. Not — whatever it was her mind seemed to be hoping for.

Momo sighed, then straightened in her chair, and forced herself to inhale slowly through her nose.

Seriously, she was in the hero course. There was no time for these sudden and confusing teenage feelings.

Momo closed her chemistry encyclopedia and pushed it to the top of her desk. Then leaned down and pulled out the blue notebook from her school bag that she had designated for class representative activities.

If she wasn’t going to go to sleep or study, the least she could do was start thinking of possible festival activities to discuss with Iida after class tomorrow. She opened her notebook to a new page and smoothed out the paper. She picked up her pen and, in careful lettering, wrote ‘Sumidagawa’ at the top.

Leaning back in her seat, Momo tapped the end of her ballpoint pen to her lip. Besides fireworks, they’d need to make sure there were enough other events to keep everyone happy.

She tried to think back to what Todoroki and she had enjoyed last year and froze. Her throat closed as she realized, with shame, that she didn’t even know if Todoroki had enjoyed the Ennichi festival.

Her stomach twisted.

Now that she thought about it, Todoroki had never suggested anything or acted in a way that might imply that he thought of the night as special or enjoyable in any way. In fact, he had even said that he had felt out of place.

Momo took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Had she just been projecting her own thoughts onto him this entire time? Could it be…had he hated it?

A sharp wave of guilt struck her, and Momo felt her stomach drop in disappointment. All this time, she had been thinking about the Ennichi festival as such a magical night without ever considering Todoroki’s feelings.

Momo opened her eyes and set her pen down on her desk. Then she slumped forward and buried her head in her arms. She was so selfish and presumptuous.

How could she have forgotten that Todoroki had revealed that he had felt out of place? Festivals were for families, he had said. And, although he had never elaborated on it, his expression had been drawn in a way that alluded to the fact that his family wasn’t on the best of terms.

Slowly, Momo sat back up. She pulled her hands into her lap and curled them into fists. Perhaps, if they were all going as a class, Todoroki would feel differently? Maybe he would have a better time than when it was just the two of them…

Momo swallowed over a lump in her throat, and set her jaw, shoving away her insecurity as she picked up her pen. She wouldn’t let herself get down.

Last year, her attending Ennichi had been a selfish, impulse decision, one she made against her mother's wishes because Uraraka and Hagakure made it sound like an experience every person should have at least once. Momo would plan better this year.

She straightened in her chair and picked up her pen again. The key to a good event was preparation. And, if there was one thing Momo excelled at, it was planning.

‘You’re good at that sort of thing.’

Momo dropped her pen with a small squeak at the unbidden memory from Todoroki and her midterm battle against Aizawa. Her heart raced. Where had that come from?

Her fingers fidgeted as they pulled her braid over her shoulder. She drew in a deep breath and absently played with the ends of her hair as she tried to calm down.

It must be her subconscious reminding Momo to trust in herself. Just as Todoroki had believed in her and voted for her to be class president - because he thought she’d be good at it. Her heart rose in her chest.

Yes. That must be it.

She breathed deeply and released her hair. Todoroki was right. Planning was her area of expertise. She could do this.

Momo squared her shoulders and picked up her pen again. She would use these emotions — the guilt and disappointment in herself — to make sure Todoroki would have the best time this year. And not just Todoroki. If this was the last chance they all had to hang out together and see fireworks, she would just have to make sure that everyone had the best time possible.

However, even as she thought this, Momo couldn’t stop her sixteen-year-old heart from beating a little faster at the idea of once again looking up at a night sky, full of fireworks, with the boy she admired most.

And maybe this time she would know for certain that he wanted to be there just as much as she did.

XXXXXX

Shouto felt his stomach do a strange flip. She was humming.

He had never heard Yaoyorozu hum before. It was quiet, barely noticeable, and he probably would have missed it if he wasn’t sitting next to her. But it wasn’t just the humming that was different. There had been a determined gleam in Yaoyorozu’s gaze all day that had drawn his attention and made his chest tighten.

Maybe he had heartburn?

He watched her from the corner of his eye as he slowly slid his pencil case into his school bag. Yaoyorozu continued to ignore him as she scribbled determinedly in a blue notebook that he recognized as the one she used for her class representative duties. Her lips curved up into a faint smile.

“Did something happen?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Yaoyorozu paused and turned to look up at him. Her dark eyes blinked innocently. “Todoroki-san?”

The school day had ended a few minutes ago, and the other students of class 2-A had already filed out. Iida had gone to use the restroom, leaving Yaoyorozu and him alone in the classroom.

Shouto had never been the type to rush, but somehow, hearing Yaoyrozu humming had slowed his feet down more than usual. His hand tightened on his notebook as he picked it up and slid it into his school bag next to his pencil kit.

“I was just wondering if something happened? You seem happier today.”

Yaoyorozu’s expression flickered, and then lit in understanding. "Mhm. I guess I am," she said, sitting back in her chair. She tucked her loose bangs behind her ear, then raised her head. Her dark eyes glittered as they met his. “Last night, the other girls and I were discussing a possible summer outing over the holiday break — one that we could do as a class. We were thinking of scheduling an event to go see the fireworks at the Sumidagawa festival. I’m going to meet with Iida-san now to discuss the arrangements.”

Shouto nodded. He closed his bag and pulled the strap over his shoulder as he straightened. “I see. I’m sure everyone would like that.”

"Right?!"

Shouto jumped despite himself. Yaoyorozu’s hand shot up to cover her mouth.

“Sorry.” A light bashful red dusted across her cheeks. She dropped her hand and looked down at her notebook. A small, embarrassed smile tugged at her lips. "I guess I’m more excited than I thought I’d be.”

He stared at her. Something about an excited Yaoyorozu made his chest tighten. It was like the way her whole face lit up talking about chemistry — raw, unfiltered. So different than him. After a moment, the red across her cheeks deepened, and Shouto realized he was taking too long to respond.

“It’s okay,” he said, avoiding her gaze as she looked back up at him, her eyes searching his face. Shouto cleared his throat. “I think it’s good to do something as a class.”

Yaoyorozu’s expression warmed. “I agree.” Her smile returned. “I've actually gotten really into the preparation. I want this to be a memorable event, so I’m going to do my best to plan properly so everyone has a good time."

Shouto looked down at the notebook opened on her desk. A list of activities, dates, and what looked like restaurants was listed in neat calligraphy.

He snorted. She really was good at these types of things. That's why he had voted for her as class rep after all.

Yaoyorozu was a leader; she was smart, dedicated, and had always been the type to go out of her way to think of others. Even last year, when they had gone together to the Ennichi festival, she had been more concerned with his feelings than making sure she had a good time.

Shouto swallowed and curled his left hand into a fist at his side. The memory of watching the fireworks with Yaoyorozu still felt surreal.

During the sports festival, Shouto had told Midoriya what had happened with his family, but he had a purpose when he had done that. Midoriya was a rival, and Shouto needed him to understand why he was going all out to defeat him. But with Yaoyorozu, it had been the first time he had voluntarily spoken about his family to someone who was not involved. He still didn’t quite understand what had made him decide — after fifteen years — to open up that night. He had just felt comfortable.

His heart beat faster at the memory.

That’s right. Yaoyorozu was that type of person. She was dependable and could make others feel at ease.

Shouto looked back at her. Warmth spread in his chest. She really was going to be a great hero.

Yaoyorozu’s expression flickered. "What-What is it?" She reached up and touched her cheek as if feeling for something. "Is there something on my face?"

Shouto shook his head, eyes softening. "No." He felt his lips twitch. "It's just...you're amazing, Yaoyorozu."

Her eyes widened, red returning to spread across her cheeks. “Eh?”

“Planning an event so that there is something for everyone to enjoy. I’m sure you’ll be able to do it.”

“Well…I hope you will enjoy it too,” she stuttered quickly.

His lips flicked up slightly. “I’m sure I will if you’re the one planning it,” he said.

He looked up as the classroom door slid open with a clack, and Iida walked in, smiling brightly.

Shouto’s throat felt tight. He swallowed and reached up to adjust the strap of his bag, unsure why he suddenly felt annoyed by his friend’s arrival.

He rolled his jaw, as sudden impulsive words clawed up his throat.

“I look forward to escorting you again,” he said as he turned and made his way out of the classroom. His heart raced. He cleared his throat as he discreetly activated his right side to cool his suddenly warm insides.

He would definitely need to talk to Recovery Girl if this continued.

XXXXXX

Momo read over the text message again. “How does this sound?”

“Yaomomo, it’s fine.”

She looked up from her phone. Jirou was sprawled across her king-sized bed, flipping absentmindedly through a magazine advertising the latest guitar models. “You’ve read it over a hundred times already,” Jirou added in a flat voice without looking up.

Momo’s lips thinned. Then she glanced back down at the screen, scanning the text again. She was grateful Iida had graciously agreed to let her handle the details of the planning, but now that she was drafting the invite, Momo couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious about the whole thing.

What if everyone hated the restaurant she chose? Was shopping for yukatas three weeks beforehand even enough time to find the perfect one? However, what worried her the most, sitting like a heavy, black piece of coal in the back of her mind, was what Todoroki would think of her plan - especially after telling her he’d escort her. And what exactly had he even meant by telling her he’d escort her again?

Momo bit her lip. “But what if someone has a question…”

“Then, they can ask you.” Jirou finally looked up from the magazine and met Momo’s gaze. She quirked an eyebrow. “What’s really the matter? You’ve been fidgety all evening.”

Momo sighed. “I just want the night to be perfect. I was talking to Todoroki-san earlier- ”

“What did the Ice Prince say to you?” Jirou interrupted. The bed squeaked as Jirou sat up abruptly, and her eyes narrowed. “Do you need me to slug him?”

“No!” Momo sat back in surprise. As much as she loved Jirou, Momo was still not used to how quickly she would threaten violence against the guys of their class, especially towards her new boyfriend, Kaminari.

Jirou Kyouka and Kaminari Denki had begun dating at the beginning of the year, after what had been careful persuasion, and in Momo’s opinion, an unreasonable amount of pining between the two. It had been Momo who had finally convinced Kaminari to confess to her friend.

“Todoroki-san didn’t say anything. He was very kind. He just said that if I’m the one planning, then the event will surely be enjoyable…”

Jirou’s expression relaxed. “Oh, is that it?” She sat back down and crossed her legs. “Then why are you overthinking this?”

Momo sighed. “I-I just feel so badly.” She looked down. Her fingers fidgeted with her phone. “Last year, Todoroki-san was so kind and escorted me to Ennichi, but I was horrible and never even thought about his feelings on being there. He probably hated it...”

“You’re not horrible, Yaomomo. And I doubt he hated it if he was with you.”

“But last year he said - !" Momo hesitated, her heart sinking at the thought that her telling Jirou about him feeling out of place could be a betrayal of his confidence. "He just...didn't look like he enjoyed himself. And I'm scared that people won't enjoy this either..."

Jirou gave her a look. “Yaomomo, you’re worrying too much. First off,” she said, holding up her finger, “Todoroki wouldn’t have stayed with you if he hated it.” She raised another finger. “Second, everyone is going to have fun, no matter what happens. It will just be great to all be together.” She dropped her hand back to her lap.

“Maybe…” Momo said, avoiding Jirou’s gaze.

“Look.” One of Jirou’s earphone jacks rose in the air and pointed at Momo. “I know you are worried about Todoroki, but he isn’t the type of guy who would do something he doesn’t want to. And the fact that he stayed with you all night — when he was still just getting out of his early-roki stage — means that he wanted to see the festival just as much as you did.”

Momo nodded slowly, and then looked away to stare down at her hands for a few seconds.

Jirou exhaled through her nose. “I know there is something else on your mind. Tell me,” she coaxed, getting on her knees and crawling to the edge of the bed to sit by Momo’s chair.

Momo bit her lip. “He...” She paused for a moment. “He also said that he was looking forward to escorting me again.” Her voice was small. She could feel heat curl around her ears as she whispered the words she had been thinking about all evening.

Jirou’s eyes widened faintly. “Oh, that’s exciting,” Jirou said, leaning forward. “And what did you say?”

She shook her head. “He walked away before I could respond…."

Jirou snorted. “Well, that’s still exciting. Congratulations on finally moving forward with the Ice Prince.”

Momo felt her face grow warmer. “Co-congratulations?” Her voice squeaked slightly at the end.

“Yaomomo.” Jirou’s lips curved up into a grin. “You don’t have to be shy. You’ve liked him since forever, haven’t you?”

“Eh?” Momo cupped her face. Her cheeks were burning. “I…I don’t know what you mean.”

Her chest felt tight.

Jirou’s smile widened; she shook her head. Then she leaned forward and poked Momo’s side. “Yaomomo, you’re too cute.”

Momo wanted to hide. Did she really like Todoroki? Well, of course, she liked Todoroki. But, like ‘like’?

Was that why she had been thinking about Todoroki more? And was that why she had been overanalyzing his words all evening?

Momo’s heart rate increased. She certainly admired him and thought him an excellent student and friend, and — okay, maybe she did like Todoroki, but only… if she was going to think about it scientifically, as much as a beaker. Well, maybe a little more than a beaker. Perhaps a flask. A tall, well-made flask ...

Momo hid her face in her hands. She was ruined. How could she have not known?

“Yaomomo, you don’t have to get so flustered. Everyone knows.” She could hear the smile in Jirou’s voice.

“Everyone?” Momo asked in disbelief. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.

“Well, everyone but Todoroki...probably. But it’s okay, since he likes you too.”

Momo dropped her hands. “You’re wrong. He couldn’t possibly like me.”

Jirou smiled surreptitiously. “I don’t know about that.”

Momo shook her head. “Even if he did like me as more than friends — which he doesn’t — he has never made any suggestions."

“What about him saying he will escort you again?”

“He didn’t mean it like that,” Momo said hurriedly. “He meant going as a class.”

Didn’t he?

Momo’s heart fluttered like hummingbird wings in her chest. No. Jirou was wrong. She was planting ideas in Momo’s head.

It was one thing for Jirou to know Momo’s heart, she was her best friend after all, but it was entirely different for her to presume to know Todoroki’s.

“Hmm,” Jirou hummed, looking at her thoughtfully. “Why don’t you just ask him, then?”

“No! I can’t.” Momo leaned forward and grasped Jirou’s hand. “And please, you can’t say anything either. Not to anyone.”

Jirou’s eyes softened. “Okay, okay. I won’t say anything. I promise.” She patted Momo’s hand.

Momo felt her shoulders relax. That was right. Todoroki didn’t like her, because if he did, that would mean Jirou was right and Momo was wrong — which wouldn’t make sense. Momo was the smartest student of their grade. There was no way that she would have missed the signs that he liked her.

Would she?

XXXXXX

Notes:

Ennichi Festival – this is from the Boku no Hero drama CD. Hagakure and Uraraka see a flier for the Ennichi festival and decide to go. They end up telling Momo and asking if she wants to join them, but Momo says she will pass because her mother doesn’t approve of street festivals. Uraraka and Hagakure then leave, and Momo wonders if she made the right decision. Feeling like she is missing out, Momo makes a yukata and goes to the festival by herself, but ends up getting nervous and is loitering by the entrance when Todoroki finds her. They end up walking around together, as neither have been to a festival before. The story ends with Momo asking if Todoroki enjoys the festival and him revealing that he feels out of place because festivals seem like something fun for families. He is about to leave when the fireworks go off. You can watch the full thing on youtube under boku no hero drama cd Ennichi festival.

Earlyroki - this is a slight spoiler for later in the manga. The class uses it to refer to Todoroki’s early emo stage of the first two seasons.

Sumidagawa festival – An actual festival in Japan. The Sumidagawa Fireworks Festival is an annual fireworks festival held on the last Saturday in July. They are known for having the biggest, most spectacular fireworks display of all Japan festivals with stunning pyrotechnic displays of over 20,000 fireworks launched in 90 minutes! (per Google)

#todomomo #todoroki x yaoyorozu #shouto todoroki #Yaoyorozu Momo #My writing #My Story

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yoursillygirl-onmedicine · 7 years ago

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Day One

Well everyone, Orientation Week has begun! Today I had my first day of orientation. I was feeling a little nervous when I went to bed last night, but woke up this morning with confidence and excitement.

Since it was Day 1, all 150 or so students were assigned into orientation groups, and were asked to wear a specific color designated to their group. Mine was the “Black” Plague, so I had to wear black. (I totally lucked out in comparison to Gangrene Green, Purple Pacemakers, and Red Reflex, :P)

We spent the first 3.5 hours going over the curriculum, some of the faculty, IT requirements and school websites, and whatnot. Around noon we reconvened with our orientation groups while chowing down over Wahoo’s tacos and iced tea. My orientation leaders Drew and Nina had us perform a couple of activities, which included anonymously writing what each of us would be if we did not pursue medicine. I wasn’t quite sure what to write, since becoming a doctor and practicing medicine has been all I’ve ever wanted and dreamed of doing. But, once upon a time I fathomed the idea of choosing pediatrics as a specialty while simultaneously publishing and illustrating children’s books under a pseudonym... so that’s what I ended up writing. Our group took turns guessing who wrote what occupation on the pieces of paper, and many of us were surprised at the interesting choices people entertained. An ambassador to a foreign country... a violinist... an iron chef america judge. My peers are so interesting! We then did another activity in which we were told to write a letter to our future selves. We would receive a copy of it in the Spring during our Neurology courses, and again in our 4th years. Why neurology? Because apparently we’re going to be spending 7 weeks of our 42 week school year learning about it, and it’s the hardest system we will be tackling. (Dr P, you were right. ><) After lunch, we heard a couple of lectures from our chair of Anatomy, Dr. Jorgensen. Apparently on Thursday they’re going to be wrapping our new cadavers and putting them in their cages, and requested the help of students who were interested in seeing our donors for the first time. It sounds SO FUN! I’m excited. Will update again on Thursday about that. :P We then were asked to make groups of 15 to brainstorm ideas for our class Vision Statement. Group leaders then all met together once their subgroups were done making a list of ideas, and were given instructions to stay behind after orientation finished. Mom wanted me to talk during the White Coat Ceremony because she found previous years’ recordings of students making speeches at the ceremony. So I volunteered myself to be my group’s leader along with another one of my peers, Christine. Turns out, we spent the next 45 minutes compiling ideas with the other group leaders, and had one person convert all of our ideas into paragraph form. We’re going to be presenting this to the Dean of RVU and the President of RVU tomorrow over our lunch break, and then presenting it to our class at the end of the day tomorrow. If that isn’t awesome enough, the 11 of us who wrote it will also be presenting this in front of our family and friends during our white coat ceremony this Friday! Welp, I am tired now, and going to go to bed. It’s picture day tomorrow, so I’ve gotta get rid of these panda eyes and get a full night’s rest. LOL. Goodnight! :)

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vthiker09 · 7 years ago

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“Rehab”

On January 16th, I was freed from my non-weight bearing status. It felt similar to the day I turned 21. On March 28th, it was illegal for me to consume alcohol and the next day, it was okay. Similarly, on January 15th I couldn’t stand on my leg and on January 16th I could. My elation for my newly found freedom was also paired with much anxiety. I had no idea what it would be like to rehab an injury like the one I had sustained and I had been given little information about what the next months would look like.

My directions were to put up to 15% of my body weight on my leg and use the crutches to do the rest. Here’s a fun fact: 15% of your body weight is pretty much your leg and maybe a little bit of pressure. Over the next month, I was allowed to increase the percentage “as tolerated.” This was the first of so many vague directions I was given by doctors I now know probably prolonged my healing. Pain is a perplexing feeling. It’s perplexing because in one sense it’s quite clear - pain creates very clear sensations in your body and being in pain is not pleasant. We can thank our friendly nervous system for this. At the same time, it’s a feeling I have never been quite able to fully grapple. I can feel when something hurts and I’ve become a professional at ignoring it. Remember my hockey player parent? Well, probably the least helpful lesson I ever learned from them is to ignore pain and if you acknowledge you are in pain, you are weak.

When you come from the belief system, pain is something to be worked through and if you are tough enough, you can manage any nasty feeling your body can throw at you, it makes directions like “as tolerated” nearly impossible to comprehend. To this point in my life, I had been able to tolerate all the pain. This included countless sports related injuries, many of which took many months to be pain free, and a few which still hurt today. Thus, something like “as tolerated” gave me the green light to pretty much do whatever I wanted with the confines of still being in a boot and on crutches.

What this created was an aggravation cycle I would cope with for the next nine months. Regardless of the limitations I was working with, I would push until even I could recognize it hurt and then I would spend the night on the couch with several ice packs wondering what I had done wrong. Sometimes, depending on how stubborn I was feeling, the pain wouldn’t even stop me. One more mile of walking couldn’t do that much damage, right?

After my month of partial walking, I was given these instructions on February 27th: Over the next two weeks, transition from using the crutches and boot to a shoe and full weight bearing as tolerated. Follow-up with a physical therapist.” What I heard: “No more sadness sticks and no more foot prison!!!!!” My spooky movie night friends came over that night and shared in my elation over my ever growing freedom. They also, like many would, shared their concern over perhaps I was doing too much. They were concerned because when they came, I didn’t have the crutches or the boot. My two weeks became until I walked upstairs upon returning from my doctor’s appointment on the same day. At the same time, I’m tough, and tough people can deal with pain. I realized many months later, tough people don’t “deal with pain.” Tough people are able to acknowledge reality and have the ability to cope with reality and improve the situation. We’ll talk more about this later.

The second half of my instructions were to follow-up with a physical therapist. Have you ever googled “physical therapists in x or y place”? Well, if you haven’t, you should, because you will be amazed at the sheer number available to you. This to me was a medical nightmare. When it came to my surgeon, the dashing ER surgeon had referred to me an ankle specialist who mainly worked with active people. I didn’t have to do anything and the match made sense. Now, I had to figure out who could help me get back to the activities I missed so badly. The reality of my situation was I could walk maybe fifty feet and the fifty feet was not pleasant. I had a long way to go to get back to my ten plus mile hikes over a couple thousand feet of elevation and picking a PT to help me do this, seemed like an impossible decision.

I did what made sense at the time: I picked a PT practice somewhat close to me, associated with a larger hospital, who had people who focused on sports related injuries. I promptly called them and somehow ended up with an appointment for 7 am the following morning. Medical providers tend not to be prompt in their scheduling, which is where the “somehow” comes from. At 6:30 am the following morning, I loaded myself into the car and drove to PT. Oh, I should mention: I wrecked my right leg and this was the first time I had driven a car in nearly four months. Driving never really caused me problems until my third surgery, it was more a wahoo!! moment and this probably was the only aspect I fully listened to the doctors about. When it came to the safety of others, I was sure to take my car to a parking lot and ensure I could stomp on the break in case of an emergency.

When I got to my very first PT appointment ever, they had no idea who I was. I’ve learned this to be true many times since and apparently medical providers have an army of per-diem staff who lack training and rarely actually get it right - through no fault of their own. After fifteen or so minutes they figured out who I was and we sorted through why I was there. After another five, I was called in. I now know this and if you’ve never been to PT: they watch everything you do and a good one will be able to tell if something is different within a few steps you take. This PT, although I only saw them once and really didn’t like them, within two steps I took said: “you should be using crutches and if you keep limping like that, you’re going to create many more problems for yourself.” In true Erin style, my response was “It’s fine.”

The next hour was a painful collection of evaluation exercises, which were mainly disheartening. No one wants to start their day by realizing they can’t stand on one leg. At the same time, I was still in camp “pain won’t stop me! stubbornness” and wouldn’t let my body slow me down. When they were done with their evaluation, I was given a slip of paper with another PT’s name on it and was told to schedule two sessions per week for the next two months. I was also given a set of home exercises. I, perhaps like a child on their first day of school, was pretty happy to get my set of stretchy bands and exercise photos, because at least it meant I got to move. Remember- I really like to move. With no expectations around how long it would take to go back to the mountains or what I was looking at over the next several months, I blindly made my appointments for the following months.

A few days later, I met the PT I would work with for next few months. They were on the younger side, liked many of the same activities I do, and specialized in lower body sports injuries. It seemed like a good fit. Over many sessions we did what seemed like every balance exercise you could make an ankle do. There were balance pads, tennis balls, weighted balls, mini-hurdles, wobbly boards, and probably a few other devices I have solidly blocked out of my mind. For a few weeks things seemed to be improving. I got to a point where the PT finally said I could walk without crutches and my fifty feet of painful walking turned into a few miles of still painful walking. At the same time, new messages started to come out “I don’t know why you are still struggling with this” or “I can’t explain why your leg still shakes” or “your range of motion still isn’t functional” and my favorite “I don’t understand why you aren’t doing better.”

There was a point around March where things changed. The conversation was no longer about when would I get better. It was about what was still wrong. This, in many ways felt more crushing then my initial injury. When I was first injured there was a clear reason why, a clear solution, and a time frame I could hold onto when things were tough. It was supposed to be okay because like dashing ER doctor had said: “you’ll be hiking by the spring.” In reality, it was dangerously close to the spring and I couldn’t walk up the paved hill to my house, let alone a mountain. Suddenly, I had no idea when I would actually hike again and the uncertainty, was in mainly ways, harder to deal with then the physical issues I was experiencing.

Over these months, I had several follow-up appointments with my surgeon. As I became more worried and my PT also became more worried, my tone with the surgeon changed. There were several appointments where I would go in, describe the host of challenges I had, and would hear “I don’t know what’s wrong” or “It takes time” or “It’s all healed, I don’t know why it still hurts.” The “I don’t know” piece is both relieving because at least the surgeon’s ego is in check and immensely frustrating. I thought: “You must know! you’ve literally seen my guts and have looked at probably thirty x-rays at this point. What in the world could be so different about my case, you can’t figure it out?” Then there was what I would like to call my niceness breaking point.

At this point my PT had told me to spread my appointments out to monthly because “you aren’t getting better fast enough,” I was in constant agony, and nothing I did seemed to making anything better. I rolled into my surgeon appointment determined to get something better than “I don’t know.” During this appointment, the surgeon brought a student in with them. When the hospital has a medical school associated with it, this is pretty common. What wasn’t common, or I hope isn’t common, is my pretty pleasant surgeon all of a sudden turned into a bro monster who really pissed me off. After joking about intentionally breaking my leg to improve my range of motion or just cutting it off entirely, he busted out the “It’s all healed, there’s no reason for you to be struggling this much.”

This was probably the lowest point of my recovery. My PT basically quit on me and my surgeon thought a) there’s nothing wrong and b) my struggle was something to make fun of. I left that appointment and promptly burst out into tears once I reached my car. You may have gleaned this at this point and I don’t like doctors. I didn’t want to see them much more than they probably didn’t want to see me and all I wanted was to be able to move. I wanted to follow the timeline I was given on day one and just go back to normal. Most of all though, I wanted someone to help me.

I realized soon after I needed to help myself. I needed to make things so crystal clear to the medical providers involved, that there was in fact something else wrong, they should pay attention, and if they didn’t do so, it would be nothing short of negligent. I promptly got a new PT and I rolled into my next surgeon appointment ready for a fight. During this appointment I brought a list of questions my new PT had helped me develop to accurately express my concern and get some answers. The surgeon didn’t appreciate this and certainty didn’t appreciate the “should she see an ankle specialist” question. At the same time, I wasn’t there to stroke his ego and I really didn’t care. Having a functional limb was much more important to me. I think it finally struck the surgeon perhaps I wasn’t exaggerating or fabricating what I was experiencing and maybe he should try harder than just “it takes time.”

This appointment set the stage for my second surgery, or as I would like to call it: “operation break those screws.”

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