#source: something i overheard at the gym

[incorrect-cp9-quotes]

*Galley-La lifting weights*

Kaku: Do you want me to stand behind in case it's too much?

Paulie: Nah, it's fine. You can’t lift this much anyway

Kaku: No, but I can push down, make it end quicker

*both start laughing*

Tilestone: That's funny

*all three laugh harder*

Paulie: That's good, that was a good one

Lucci: *knows Kaku wasn't joking*

[octuscle]

I am the only smart and social guy in my class and I’m also he only gay one, normally I prefer to hang with the girls and do all my projects with them…but this time our teacher forced all us guys together, in time for the group project I overheard the boys talking about making me a real Man/boy with there phones. Help!

You have your first project meeting. You are sitting in a circle with the boys. Everyone is playing with their cell phones, picking their noses or scratching their balls. You take a deep breath. And you think you have an idea for an environmental project. Collecting trash on the bank of the creek behind the school. And classifying the garbage according to the possibility of recycling.

Dude, that's a lame idea, grunts one of the guys. We were thinking something like "how far can hard training get you in a week". The other guys applaud. And one presses the "Activate" button on the Chronivac app.

Hehehe, you're not into sports at all. But that sounds like a cool project. Shit, why didn't you come up with that idea. You do a little research on the Internet. Calculate the budget, write to a few sponsors. Look for sportswear, nutritional supplements, also look for sources of potentially illegal support. The other guys play with their cell phones. One of them says you should chill out. It's enough if you start tomorrow.

Project diary, day 1:

Erkan sent me a message this morning that he and the other guys will be at the gym at 08:00. I should come already dressed. I don't even remember that I already got a bag with gym clothes yesterday. But in any case, there is one next to my desk. I put on a tank top, some shorts, socks and shoes. While brushing my teeth in the bathroom, I think to myself how ridiculous the way-too-big clothes look on me. On the bus, I'm a little uncomfortable with my appearance. And between the boys in the gym even more so. But it's a project, we have to go through with it.

We spend six hours in the gym. Has been amazingly fun. Somehow I was the only one sweating. The boys just played with their cell phones again. Hopefully there are good pictures for the project documentation. After the training I wanted to take a shower, but the guys took me directly to their regular shisha bar. I have rarely felt so uncomfortable. Because everyone else is bigger, more muscular and more masculine than me. And because I'm the only guest in sweaty sports gear. Besides, I'm starting to feel the soreness. I just fall into bed in the evening. Unable to move.

Project diary, day 2:

At 06:00 I get an address from Bogdan. Barbershop from his cousin. Meeting at 07:00 so that I no longer have to train with the ridiculous blond curls. I'm supposed to put on yesterday's clothes. I didn't have the clothes hung up yesterday. Actually I wanted to put on fresh clothes today So, of course, nothing has dried. Brushing teeth must go quickly, I'm late. Fuck, I actually finally get beard growth? Must take a closer look at me later in the gym.

So far it does not get at all. Bogdan's cousin not only gives me a new haircut, he also shaves me. In my opinion, completely unnecessary. But the result is cool. For the first time I can imagine in the gym on the weight bench in front of the mirror that the project will be a success. Otherwise, the workout goes like yesterday. After the six-hour program, I was looking forward to a shisha. But Ivo takes me to the outdoor pool. One hour of swimming One hour on the lawn. One hour of swimming. Ivo allows me to take a cold shower without shower gel after swimming. It feels good. And I like my tight white ass.

Project diary, day 3:

When Akay sends me the message to remember that my gym clothes are still in the locker, I'm already awake for an hour. Pushups and situps. I got quite a tantrum from my mom yesterday about how my room looks. Hey, the laundry isn't that dirty yet. And I'll clean up the cum-soaked handkerchiefs tonight.

Since the rest is as I said in the gym, I go only in tracksuit with white socks and Adiletten in the bus. I look so antisocial. Makes me somehow horny. In the gym I'm alone today. Fuck, to be honest, the losers only disturb. Let them hang out, I have my own rhythm. And it beats out of iron. For solid muscles. I take a break only to pour protein shakes into me. And on the way to the outdoor pool I make a quick stop at Bogdan's cousin. Trimming the sides And trim the beard.

At dinner, my mother tells me that I stink as much as my room. My father is on my team. He pumps himself. And considerably more than me. It's good to have support at home for my goals. I eat my five chicken breasts with rice, drink two more liters of water and then go to bed. Dad looks in again, laughs, says that nothing stinks as cool as pump sweat and asks if he should get me a syringe cure. Fist bump, old man! But I stay natural for now.

Project diary, day 4:

Was horny while pumping. Today on the bench 150 kilograms pressed. Need new tank top. The old one stinks excellent. But is too tight.

In the evening once again met with the guys on Shisha. Was cool. But they are not focused enough. Juri has scratched his belly. Ey, hardly a six-pack to see. Would I be ashamed of myself!

Project diary, day 6:

Ey, yesterday completely forgotten the diary. Was in great shape in the gym. In the afternoon then posed at the pool. Trained on the pull-up bars. The fans applauded. And in the evening with my old man bombed our arms for an hour. I'd like to have his biceps too.

Today is free. Sascha got me an appointment with the tattoo artist. Before again Barber And afterwards outdoor pool. And then party. The boys and me to the disco. Man, I could have had them all! And I fucked two guys on the toilet. Shit, I have so much energy, I really have to cum four times a day. At least!

Project diary, day 7:

I can only hope that one of the guys makes the presentation about our project. I'm so totally not up for it. I already wrote the damn diary. And I was the guinea pig. I'm a fucking hot lab rat.

One of the guys said last night that I used to be a nerd and a weakling. Must have been a long time ago.

[ineedtochangemynameaaaa]

Last Minute Chapter 2 Killer Theory

I'm posting this less than 5 minutes before the premiere so I didn't check for grammar. One the off chance I get anything right, I just want to have proof I called it lol.

Now on to the actual theory: I’m pretty sure Ace is the culprit. This is mostly just through the process of elimination.

It starts with Nico’s attempted murder of Ace. During the investigation Charles brings Teruko to the gym, where she remembers what the gym looks like before the attempt, when she and Eden first arrived, and after MonoTV cleaned it, which tells us that the attempt is likely significant to the case. The night of the attempt Teruko and Eden heard a loud crash and headed to the gym to investigate, finding Nico standing over Ace’s “body.” Nico runs away, and Teruko and Eden start to investigate. We see one of the ceiling fans on the floor (likely the source of the noise), a stepladder, a broom, a roll of tape (presumably the grippy tape), some wire taped to the ceiling fan, and more bloody wire on the floor. There are also several items knocked over. Given that Ace has a neck injury, I believe Nico was trying to hang Ace from the ceiling fan, but it gave out under his weight. Keeping this in mind, I have a hard time believing that Arei being hanged shortly after this attempt is a coincidence. Multiple characters say that Nico and Ace didn’t really talk about what happened afterwards, so our suspects are the only four people present: Teruko, Eden, Nico, and Ace.

In the flashback, we see that Teruko remembers the roll of tape near the ceiling fan. After the gym is cleaned up, Teruko and Rose are the first two allowed to enter the Gym, at which point Rose remarks that the tape is no longer there. I believe the disappearance of the tape is going to be significant. Teruko investigated after Nico left, so we can assume she noticed the presence of the tape after Nico left. If you look back during the episode, around the time Ace stands up and shouts that he isn’t dead, the tape disappears. Obviously, Nico wasn’t there for that. For this reason, we can eliminate Nico as a suspect, leaving only Teruko, Eden, and Ace.

The next part has to do with the body discovery. When everyone notices Arei is missing, they split up to try to find her. Teruko grabs Eden and Whit, and the three of them find Arei’s body in the Playground, triggering the body discovery announcement. Why is this significant? Because the rules state that the body discovery announcement will only be triggered when three people who *did not witness the murder* find the body. That means Teruko, Eden, and Whit, all didn’t see the murder happen. That eliminates the possibility of Teruko (who we already knew because protag) and Eden from being the culprit, leaving only one person: Ace.

Although this is hardly solid evidence, Ace also said something suspicious during the trial. He said that he overheard David and Arei’s conversation. This in and of itself doesn’t make him suspicious, but when you consider the layout of the floor it’s strange. Ace claims to have overheard the elevator, then someone walking, a door opening, and only *then* did Arei speak up for the first time. This implies that the entire conversation took place in the Relaxation Room. It might seem weird to clarify that, but remember where Ace claimed to have overheard this: the Gym. If you look at map, the Relaxation Room and the Gym are on opposite sides of the Second Floor. If the conversation had started in the hallway, maybe I’d be willing to believe Ace could have overheard it. If Ace could hear the sounds of people talking but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, so he moved closer to investigate, I’d be willing to believe it. But him being able to understand what they were saying from inside the Gym while they were in the Relaxation Room just doesn’t make sense. So, I think Ace was lying about being in the Gym. He may have actually been in the Playground, starting to make preparations for the crime. Since the Playground is directly across from the Relaxation Room, it’s far more plausible that he could have overheard something. It’s even possible (though I’m not sure it’s very likely) that he was in the process of leaving the Playground to fill the water jugs with water from the Relaxation Room, and just so happened upon David and Arei’s conversation. 

Remember that David was sent to the Relaxation Room by Whit, leading to Teruko eating in the Movie Screening Room. When the Playground is first introduced, MonoTV says that if you were to drill through one of the walls (closer to the ceiling than the floor since the rooms are on different floors), you’d find yourself in the Movie Screening Room. I believe part of the plan to kill Arei involved tying the rope to an obect (either the rolled up clothes or one/both of the water jugs) and throwing that over one of the beams near the ceiling to hang the rope over the beam. I believe the object that was used hit one of the lights in the process, and that’s why the light was flickering. What does any of this information have to do with eachother? Well, if something hit the light hard enough to break it, that would have made some noise. Since it’s near the ceiling, someone in the Movie Screening Room could probably hear it, unless the noise was covered up by something louder. I’m referring to the movie Teruko was watching while eating. I find it hard to believe Teruko spending time in a room that is in some way connected to the room the murder took place in is a coincidence, even if it wasn’t while the murder took place based on the end of last episode (it’s implied it happened at 7:30 AM instead of PM), so I think this is how that is going to come up.

This leaves the question of why, which I unfortunately don’t have the answer for. However, I’m pretty sure the reason does NOT have to do with the secrets. I think this is the case regardless of whether or not Ace ends up being the culprit. MonoTV is about to reveal what all the secrets were, like literally in the middle of a sentence leading to the reveal, before *David* interrupts, pointing out that Arei is missing. I think everyone can agree by this point that David did not commit the murder, so if Arei was killed to hide the killer’s secret, why didn’t they speak up sooner?

I'm out of time so for now I'm cutting it off there. I don't know if literally any of this will be brought up in the next episode but I'll see in like two minutes.

[guysgetbigger]

Sympathy Santa (10 of 12)

Life with Sarah had become an exhilarating tightrope walk between normalcy and the extraordinary. Their sex life, fueled by the novelty of Ethan's size and Sarah's adventurous spirit, had reached heights they never thought possible. But maintaining their secret added a constant layer of tension, a delicious thrill that shadowed their every move.

Ethan, unable to hide his transformation forever, invested in a wardrobe of custom-made clothes, each garment reflecting his ever-increasing bulk. As he returned to work, the initial shock soon faded, replaced by a mixture of curiosity and amusement. He became a living legend, the "colossal colleague," his booming voice and earth-shaking steps echoing through the office.

The gym, once a place of casual workouts, became a personal sanctuary. Each rep, each set, fueled not just his growing muscles but also his ever-expanding belly. His clothes, tailored just weeks ago, began to strain again, the fabric stretched taut across his abdomen.

One evening, as they cuddled on the couch, Sarah dropped a bombshell. "Honey," she began, her voice laced with excitement, "there's something I need to tell you."

Ethan's heart skipped a beat. Was their secret out? His mind raced with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last.

"I'm pregnant," Sarah announced, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Relief washed over Ethan, followed by a surge of paternal protectiveness. A child, amidst the chaos of their secret world, felt both daunting and strangely grounding.

The pregnancy progressed normally, albeit with a few unexpected challenges. Sarah's cravings were legendary, requiring Ethan to source exotic fruits and obscure ingredients to satisfy her whims. Her belly, growing in tandem with his, presented logistical hurdles, requiring special furniture and strategic maneuvering around the house.

Yet, through it all, their bond deepened. The shared experience of parenthood, coupled with the constant undercurrent of their secret, forged an even stronger connection. They were a team, navigating uncharted territory, hand in hand, heart to heart.

As the baby bump grew, so did the whispers around Ethan. His size, once a novelty, became the subject of speculation and rumors. The line between amusement and concern began to blur, making them even more cautious about maintaining their secret.

One day, while Sarah was at the doctor's appointment, Ethan overheard a group of colleagues gossiping. Their hushed tones spoke of "genetic abnormalities," "freak of nature," and even "medical marvel." Anger flared within him, a primal urge to protect his family, his secret.

But then, he remembered Sarah's radiant smile, the soft kicks from within her growing belly. He couldn't let fear and anger jeopardize their fragile normalcy, their little family built on love and acceptance.

Taking a deep breath, he composed himself. The path ahead would be challenging, fraught with judgment and scrutiny. But they wouldn't face it alone. They had each other, their love an unyielding shield against the outside world. And as he placed a hand on Sarah's belly, feeling the tiny life stir within, he knew their journey, extraordinary as it may be, was just beginning. Theirs was a love story defying definition, a testament to the power of acceptance and the resilience of the human spirit, and they would face whatever came next, together, as a family, forever bound by the threads of their extraordinary secret.

—

Sarah, humming a cheerful tune, caught a glimpse of Ethan emerging from the bathroom, leaving a trail of steam in his wake. Her jaw dropped. Even towel-clad, his sheer immensity filled the doorway. Gone was the toned physique she once admired, replaced by a gargantuan mass of muscle and sinew, barely contained by the fabric.

His body hair, now longer and thicker, matted against his skin like the fur of a mythical sasquatch. "Ethan!" she exclaimed, a mix of awe and concern in her voice. "You seem… bigger than ever."

Ethan chuckled, a deep rumble that vibrated through the floor. "Just making good use of that gym membership," he joked, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Sarah stepped closer, tracing the outline of his massive silhouette through the towel. He dwarfed her completely, his head scraping the ceiling. "How do you even fit in the shower?" she marveled, unable to stifle a giggle.

Ethan's chuckle died down. "Honestly," he admitted, his voice low, "it's getting difficult. Every doorframe feels like a squeeze, the furniture seems miniature, even the bed…" He trailed off, the unspoken implication hanging heavy in the air.

Sarah's smile faded, replaced by a concerned frown. The novelty of his growth, once exciting, now seemed to be taking a toll. "Does it… bother you?" she asked softly.

Ethan hesitated, then sighed. "Sometimes," he confessed. "This house, built for normal-sized people, feels like a constant reminder of how... different I am."

But then, a surprising honesty slipped into his voice. "But at the same time… there's a power in this size. A feeling of raw strength, of being something beyond human."

Sarah looked into his eyes, seeing the conflicting emotions swirling within him. Fear and excitement, confinement and liberation, all battling for dominance. She reached up, her small hand dwarfed by his massive bicep, and squeezed gently.

"Ethan," she said, her voice firm yet filled with love, "we'll figure it out. Together. This house, our life, it might need to adapt, but you don't have to shrink yourself to fit in. You are who you are, and I love you for it, all of it."

His heart warmed at her words. He might be growing bigger, physically pushing the boundaries of their world, but her acceptance, her unwavering love, remained a constant anchor. He leaned down, nuzzling her forehead with his cheek, the gesture surprisingly delicate despite his size.

"Thank you, Sarah," he whispered, the words thick with emotion. "For understanding, for loving this… this giant mess I've become."

She giggled, the sound tinkling like wind chimes against his massive form. "Mess? Maybe. But a pretty amazing mess at that."

Their situation was complex, filled with uncertainties and challenges. But as they stood there, bathed in the warm afterglow of their connection, they knew they weren't alone. They had each other, and that, for now, was enough. The future might be as vast and unknown as his ever-expanding size, but they would face it, hand in hand, their love a beacon guiding them through the uncharted territory of their extraordinary lives.

—

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room, Sarah gathered her things and announced she was heading out for a girls' night. Ethan, a wave of relief washing over him, offered a tired smile and a mumbled goodbye. He wasn't sure how much longer he could maintain the charade, the constant fear of exposure gnawing at his already stretched nerves.

With Sarah gone, the silence of the house felt deafening. It was a silence Ethan knew wouldn't last long. A quick text later, Derek appeared, his small frame dwarfed by the doorway.

"Ethan," he whispered, his voice filled with awe as he took in his friend's colossal form. The redwood, pulsating with an internal life of its own, dominated the room.

Ethan beckoned him closer, a small smile playing on his lips. Derek, his eyes wide, approached cautiously, his hand trembling as he reached out. The warmth radiating from Ethan's flesh was unlike anything he'd ever felt, a potent mix of power and intimacy.

Hesitantly, Derek traced the outline of the redwood, his fingers barely able to wrap around its base. The immensity of it both terrified and excited him. He was a tiny explorer venturing into uncharted territory, a feeling that fueled his growing desire.

Ethan let out a low moan, the sound vibrating through the floorboards. He closed his eyes, savoring the touch, the power dynamic shifting as Derek, emboldened, explored further. His small hands, nimble and curious, danced across the redwood's surface, sending shivers of pleasure down Ethan's spine.

Derek, no longer just a submissive admirer, became an active participant. He stroked the sensitive glans, eliciting a guttural growl from Ethan. The sight of his friend, normally so composed, reduced to a state of primal desire by his touch, fueled his own excitement.

He worshipped the redwood, kissing its tip, tracing its veins, marveling at its size and power. The fear, once present, was replaced by a strange sense of awe and reverence. He was worshipping something beyond human, a force of nature contained within his friend.

Ethan, in turn, surrendered to the pleasure. The size difference, once a source of anxiety, became a playground. He reveled in the control he held over Derek, the way his touch, however gentle, sent tremors through his smaller form. Yet, there was also a vulnerability in Derek's worship, a purity in his fascination, that touched him deeply.

As their exploration deepened, the lines between pleasure and reverence blurred. They were no longer just two friends, but participants in a ritualistic dance, a celebration of their unique and forbidden connection.

When the climax arrived, it was earth-shattering. The room reverberated with Ethan's roars and Derek's muffled cries. The power dynamics shifted once more, Ethan a force of nature unleashed, Derek a tiny boat tossed in a raging sea.

As the tremors subsided, they lay together, the silence thick with unspoken emotions. Derek, curled up against Ethan's side, felt a strange sense of peace, a connection deeper than any he'd ever known. Ethan, the immensity of his form both a burden and a shield, felt a flicker of hope. He wasn't alone in this, not anymore.

They had shared a secret, a forbidden dance fueled by size and desire. And as they drifted off to sleep, they knew this was just the beginning, a first step into a future as vast and unknown as Ethan's ever-expanding form. Their journey, fraught with danger and uncertainty, would be walked together, bound by the threads of their extraordinary secret and the unexpected intimacy they had discovered in the shadows.

[the-fakes-au]

As Ingo finishes putting together a make-shift shelter in the forest, he thinks back on something he overheard someone in Nimbasa say:

“Ugh, it’s Ingo. You know those two subway clowns are the reason Elesa left.”

He hadn’t stuck around to hear more, because at the time he’d just been to their old apartment to find someone else living there and, with no further context to the statement, Ingo can’t help but worry that the fakes may have somehow damaged the twins’ relationship with the gym leader, or worse, that she found them out and they’d threatened her into leaving. 

He reminds himself that he hasn't seen the fakes do anything questionable, and shouldn’t assume the worst of... people (?) he knows nothing about. For all he knows the “Elesa left because of them” thing is just a rumor. Even gliscor’s reaction to Ingo’s doppelganger could have been seen as the pokemon not wanting to attack someone who hadn't done anything wrong. 

Before Ingo can go to sleep for the night, a familiar face approaches...

...It’s a now older N. 

He says he knows about the situation with the fake twins, and says he has useful information.

Ingo, remembering that this guy was once the leader of team Plasma, asks why he should trust the green haired man. N replies:

“Not a lot of people know this, but I can talk to pokemon. It’s okay if you don’t believe me now, because I know you’ll believe my source.”

Suddenly Ingo’s chandelure appears, chiming excitedly, happy to see her trainer. This is N’s source.

Ingo agrees to hear N out.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Posting Date: July 8th, 6:00 PM CT (UTC/GMT-05:00)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / College!AU / Humor / Smut (as requested in my fundraising initiative for BLM)

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Jeon Jungkook had messed with you for the last time. That was what you thought when the hockey team – led by the insufferable Jungkook – kicked your dance team out again from your reserved room at the gym. In retaliation, you planned a prank of epic proportions and were caught in the act by none other than Jungkook himself. Before the rift between you could grow any deeper, you accidentally overheard something you were not meant to hear. Something which overshadowed even your heated rivalry. Faced with the choice between obvious wrong and teaming up with your worst enemy – you reluctantly chose the latter. But what will you do when feelings you once thought of as hatred become something decidedly… not?

Estimated WC: 42K

Rating: 18+

Preview: 1,941

The back of Jeon Jungkook’s head was as infuriating as the rest of him.

In the last row of the classroom, you thought this to yourself while typing into your laptop. Notetaking was part of your official duties as Teacher Assistant for Professor Rosenbarr’s class. This, along with grading homework, proctoring exams, and a variety of other bitchwork.

Despite this, the job of a TA was the best-paying on campus, not to mention that Professor Rosenbarr personally wrote the recommendation which landed your upcoming summer internship. Junior year was stressful enough as it was, with everyone turning twenty-one and realizing with some shock they were halfway through University.

Only one summer remained before entering the real world – everyone you spoke to said that this summer internship was crucial. If there was a blank period between Junior and Senior year of University, you might as well type FUCKED AROUND in the blank section of your resume and be done with it. No, this TA role was worth all the bitchwork, if only because it directly led to your upcoming internship.

The presence of Jungkook in your class though, had you seriously considering the merits of quitting.

Glowering at his messy head three rows before you, you wondered if he had even bothered to shower before coming to class. Probably not, based on the state of his hair and clothes. Both were rumpled, with wrinkles permanently stamped into the fabric of his hoodie. You were so consumed by the state of his appearance that when he stretched, turning around, there was no time to look away.

Jungkook’s eyes locked with yours and he blinked, taken aback by your staring. While you watched, his gaze narrowed.

See something you like? he mouthed over the heads of the people between you.

Stomach plummeting, your gaze snapped back to the screen of your laptop. After a long moment of pause, you slowly looked up and found him still looking. Most infuriating of all was the smirk on his lips, as though you had acted exactly as he predicted.

Once again, you remembered why Jungkook was the worst. It gave him no small amount of pleasure to see you embarrassed. Just as it made your own stomach leap to see his brow furrowed with frustration, lips pressed together as he huffed in annoyance.

The two of you had been at each other’s throats since freshman year, a feud of such epic proportion, it was difficult to remember how it had begun. All you knew was that by now, too much blood had been spilled for you to ever go back. Jungkook hated you and you hated him. That much was certain.

Still looking at you, Jungkook arched a brow.

In response to this, you scowled. Pay attention, you mouthed, gesturing at the board.

Jungkook glanced over his shoulder.

Professor Rosenbarr was so absorbed in his lecture, you doubt he would have noticed if the fire alarm and sprinklers went off. There was a zone he reached while lecturing about statistical anomalies in economic theory which not even you could pull him out of.

More importantly, he definitely did not notice Jungkook’s lack of attention. A girl in the front row was buffing her nails, the guy behind her was paying a bill and the guy to his right was scrolling through Tumblr.

At least Jungkook had his notes open, even if he was not looking at the board.

Making a face in his direction, you shooed a hand forward. With a roll of his eyes, Jungkook finally got the hint and turned around to face front. Pulling his hoodie overhead, he slumped low in his seat.

Unable to stop yourself, you let out a sigh.

The girl next to you frowned. “Shh,” she said.

“Sorry,” you whispered, sinking even lower.

While stewing in your own embarrassment, a ping sounded from your laptop. Looking down, you scowled again at the familiar email address.

From: jjeon@university.edu

To: y/n@university.edu

Subject: hey TA

Aren’t you supposed to be grading us? Maybe you should pay more attention to the lecture & less to the back of my head

Fury clouding your gaze, it made it difficult to see as you typed.

From: y/n@university.edu

To: jjeon@university.edu

Subject: re: hey TA

Maybe if your head weren’t so big, I would be able to see the slides

Pressing send, you looked up and waited for him to respond. From the last row of class, you watched Jungkook open your email, snort and bend forward.

Professor Rosenbarr cleared his throat from the front of the room.

“Something amusing about economic theory, Mr. Jeon?”

Jungkook’s head snapped up; a deer caught in headlights. “Um. No, sir.”

The Professor arched a brow. “While I appreciate your formal language, perhaps you could extend the same respect to your dress code next class. Hood down,” he said, pointedly glancing at Jungkook’s large sweatshirt.

Dejectedly, Jungkook reached up to lower his hood.

Even from your seat, you could see his ears were bright red. A small pang of sympathy went through you before reminding yourself he deserved it. Jungkook should have been paying attention – just like you should have.

Bending forward, you resumed taking notes. Professor Rosenbarr continued his lecture, the class returned normalcy but still, Jungkook failed to respond to your email.

This did not surprise you. Jungkook had always been flaky – one of the many reasons you two did not get along. You preferred things orderly, with everyone following an agreed set of rules and Jungkook had his own expectations.

A message appeared in the corner of your screen. For a moment, your heart skipped and then you realized it was only your groupchat with Seokjin and Gina, your two best friends.

Seokjin: Y/N, stop ignoring meee [10:41 AM]

Gina: lol Seokjin, she’s teaching [10:41 AM]

Seokjin: she’s not the one teaching. Rosenblah is [10:41 AM]

Seokjin: Y/N, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY! [10:41 AM]

Y/N: his name is Rosenbarr, Seokjin. What’s the emergency? [10:41 AM]

Seokjin: finally [10:42 AM]

Seokjin: there’s a party this weekend. You in? [10:42 AM]

Gina: what night? [10:42 AM]

Seokjin: Saturday [10:42 AM]

Gina: okay, cool [10:42 AM]

Seokjin: why? What’re you doing Friday? [10:42 AM]

Gina: nothing [10:42 AM]

Seokjin: so, why did you – oh, never mind. Y/N, you in? [10:42 AM]

Y/N: this was the emergency? [10:42 AM]

Y/N: who’s throwing the party? [10:42 AM]

Seokjin: um. A friend [10:42 AM]

Y/N: Seokjin [10:43 AM]

Seokjin: okay, fine, the friend is Taehyung & the party is at hockey house. But Y/N, listen to me [10:43 AM]

Y/N: pass [10:43 AM]

Gina: lol Seokjin, you had to have known that would fail [10:43 AM]

Seokjin: I was hoping that by Junior year, we would have all become rational and mature human beings [10:44 AM]

Seokjin: aka, this feud you have with Jungkook is stupid, Y/N [10:44 AM]

Gina: *gasps* he said the name! [10:44 AM]

Gina: a plague upon your house, Seokjin! [10:44 AM]

Y/N: listen. While yes, I am a rational and mature human being [10:44 AM]

Y/N: his royal douchebaggery is not [10:44 AM]

Y/N: ergo, your wish was doomed to fail, Seokjin [10:44 AM]

Seokjin: sigh [10:44 AM]

Seokjin: well, do you at least want to get pizza with Gina and I after? [10:44 AM]

Y/N: that, I can do [10:45 AM]

Seokjin: okay, fine. It’s a plan [10:45 AM]

“We’ll pick up at the same place on Wednesday,” said Professor Rosenbarr, interrupting your train of thought. Head jerking up, your fingers fell from the keys. “Please read Chapter 4 of the textbook before then and complete the assignment online.”

As soon as he stopped, the class began to pack up, shoving books into backpacks and standing from their seats.

Rereading your notes, you struggled to recall who had last asked a question. Professor Rosenbarr liked to have that information to grant class participation points, but the conversation with Jungkook had thrown you off your game.

Before you could ask someone around you, a shadow fell over your desk. Looking up, you found Jungkook in the aisle, thumbs hooked lazily beneath the straps of his backpack.

Frowning, you glanced past. “You’re blocking the aisle,” you announced, shutting your laptop. Shoving this in your bag, you attempted to stand and found him still standing there. “Not to mention my way out of class.”

“Just came to see if you needed my notes,” Jungkook said, nonchalant. “You seemed pretty distracted.”

Glancing at him, you scowled. “I’m the TA here, not you, Jeon.”

“I know.” His smile widened and you repressed the sudden desire to smack it from his face. “Doesn’t change the fact that you were staring at me.”

“The only reason I was staring at you was because you look like you haven’t showered in days. Is the hockey team really that hard-up for wins? Resorted to repulsing the competition?”

Instantly, his smile disappeared.

Jungkook had recently been made Captain of the University hockey team and it was an endless source of gossip on campus, since usually only Seniors held the coveted title. Word on the street was Jungkook was just that good – or, the hockey team was that bad.

“I showered after practice,” he said, a bit sulky. “And we’re not that bad this year.”

Despite his words, the furrow between his brow deepened and Jungkook aimlessly shoved a hand through his hair. His fingers instantly became tangled, fighting a minute before he worked through.

Staring at him for a moment, you eventually blinked and tore free.

“Whatever,” you said, glancing past him. “Let me leave.”

Professor Rosenbarr was long gone, but he would expect your notes in his office by the end of day. You still needed to format them the way that he preferred, review them for errors and find the name of the last person who spoke.

Jungkook stepped aside and, pushing past him, you entered the aisle. As you climbed the steps, you heard him follow suit. The impending deadline began to weigh on you and – against all better judgement – you turned around.

“Hey,” you exhaled, coming to a stop on the last step.

Jungkook looked up. “What?”

“Did you… hear who asked the last question in class?”

Surprise flickered over his features, though he quickly composed them. “Uh, it was Nelson.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

You lingered for a moment, then turned around and left the room. Shoving open the door to the hall, you did not bother to wait for him to exit. Disappearing into the crowd, you kept your head low and placed distance between you. He had been startled into being nice to you, but you knew from experience this would not last for long.

Jungkook always found a way to have the last word.

Your theory was proven as soon as you entered the quad, phone dinging loudly to announce a new email. Sliding open the app, you finally found his response to your message.

From: jjeon@university.edu

To: y/n@university.edu

Subject: re: re: hey TA

If you’re still wondering how clean my body is, feel free inspect it yourself. Hate to leave that kind of doubt on your conscience xx

Swallowing, your fingers hovered over the delete button before you gave up and shoved your phone in your pocket. You would not allow Jungkook to get under your skin so easily.

Such a feat was easier said than done, however. Jungkook had nearly two years of practice at pushing your buttons. By this point, you thought he might know your ticks better than your best friends. All it took was a well-placed wink from him to make your blood boil.

Still – you would figure out a way to get Jungkook back. You always did.

After all, you had two years of experience at pressing his buttons as well.

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]

Follow my writing / editing process on my Updates Schedule 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[rosemarypasta]

➤ pairing : oikawa tooru x female reader (karasuno manager)

➤ chapter warnings : slowburn (?)

➤ summary : You just recently joined the Karasuno boy’s volleyball team as their first year manager. As you grow closer to your teammates, you also unexpectedly grow closer to one of their biggest rivals, Oikawa Tooru

➤ chapter word count: 3183

-ˏˋ chapter one ˊˎ-

Friday

12:50 PM

"Pleaseeee." The red haired boy nagged.

It was your first year in Karasuno High. You had lots of expectations on what your high school experience was going to be like but you had absolutely no intentions on being involved in any sports whatsoever. Yet, there you sat in your seat, bombarded by two students from the neighboring class during your lunch break. You barely even know them.

"Hinata stop shouting! We're in someone else's class, idiot." The raven haired boy ironically yelled as he hit his shorter friend on the head with a roll of documents, which were being forcefully shoved into your hands just a second ago. "I don't even know the first thing about volleyball! Besides, I don't know anyone there, won't it be awkward?" You whined, trying your best to decline their ridiculous offer.

"That's not true! You know us!" Hinata smiled. That was in fact, false. The only reason why you even know their names was because they forced Hitoka, your classmate, to tutor them for the exams and unfortunately, she caught a cold a few days before the exams so she forced you to cover for her for a few days. It's not like you disliked them or anything, you just didn't know anything about them other than their names and the fact that they both have very short tempers.

"Come on Y/N-chan! It'll be fun." Hitoka followed, smiling in the same manner as Hinata. You shot her a look, expressing your disgust at her betrayal. "Well if it's so fun why don't you do it instead, Hitoka-chan?" You replied to which she reacted by furiously shaking her head and hands, "My mom would never let me." She playfully sighed, though you knew damn well she was relieved in the inside to have her mother's strict wishes as an excuse to pass on the burden to you.

After another minute of bickering, the bell finally rang, dismissing everyone from their lunch break. Kageyama swore silently under his breath as he heard the familiar melody. "Look, just come by the gym today after school. Just um... think of it as a free trial. Let's go Hinata." He swiftly said, putting the club application form on your desk as he dragged his friend by the collar before escaping to their respective classrooms. You turned towards your blonde classmate who was already giggling at your suffering.

You sighed as you watched the teacher walk in your classroom. You slid the stack of papers under your desk and tried your best to forget your worries for the time being.

3:00 PM

The bell rang for the final time for the week and you quickly packed your bags. You had no intentions to stop by the gym whatsoever. You knew if you stopped by even for a second, You'd definitely get roped in and they'd guilt you into signing the form before the day was over. You were hurrying so much, planning to not bump into Hinata and Kageyama on the way home that you were practically shoving anything and everything into your bag. You said your farewells as quickly as possible to Yachi and your fellow classmates to avoid Yachi's comments about skipping the meeting and rushed out to the hallways but unfortunately, you underestimated how eager the students were when it comes to going home for the weekends. But despite the tightly packed hallways, you were determined to slip into and nook and cranny available to get home safe and sound. It took a whopping five minutes for you to just get to the staircase. And as you were getting ready to finally reach the first floor, you overheard something peculiar from behind.

"Oh! Shoyo mentioned that there'll be a new manager dropping by today."

"Really? Damn I hope she comes cause if not, I guess we'll just have to take her to the alley."

The stairwell was filled with chatter but your ears oddly picked up the conversation revolving around the short first year volleyball player and the manager he was invited.

They were talking about you.

Take her to the alley? The alley? A million intrusive ideas came up to mind. Were they planning to kill you if you didn't show up?

You laughed at yourself quietly. There was no way a high schooler could commit such violent crimes over something small like a sports club. Though curiosity got the cat and you slowly turned your head as naturally as you possibly could to see what they looked like. You caught a glimpse of the two boys conversing about you and felt like you could wet yourself. One was tall and had a buzz cut land the other though not as tall and was actually around the same height as you had spiky dark hair with a blonde streak which fell on his forehead. They looked like thugs.

Feeling terrified was an understatement. Were they members of the volleyball club too? The sight of the two unfamiliar menacing men changed your mind. No highschooler would commit such crimes but if one was to get murdered by two highschoolers, they'd probably look like them.

The conversation you overheard made you subconsciously turn on your survival instincts. As soon as you reached the first floor, your body turned towards the gym unwillingly. It was too late now, you could hear their footsteps trailing not far from you. You pushed open the gymnasium doors and was greeted by the sounds of squeaking volleyball shoes rubbing against the floor.

Everyone's eyes turned towards you and the squeaking stopped abruptly. You couldn't do anything but watch as their towering bodies slowly walked towards you. You have always avoided sports in general because you were short and naturally bad at it so you assumed that volleyball players were at least closer to normal people unlike the basketball players that looked like skyscrapers from a distance since Hinata was in the club but boy, you were wrong.

"Are you Y/N?" A deep voice right in front of you said. His shoulders were broad and big, though he wasn't the tallest person in the crowd, his presence was still overwhelming. "Oh the new manager?" Another deep voice joined in. You turned to the new source of voice and froze at the sight of the volleyball player.

He had a beard.

You have heard a rumour circulating the halls about a third year in Karasuno that has been held back for five years because he was dealing drugs and had a favorite past time that consisted of beating up the younger students. Could it be him?

In the midst of the sea of terror, a vibrant familiar voice yelled, "Oh, Y/N!". You looked up and felt tears of joy pooling around your eyes as you saw the red haired boy.

"Asahi, scoot over, you're making her cry." A grey haired senior laughed as he pushed the now concerned bearded man away from my sight. "So you're going to be our second manager right? Y/N-san?" He continued, "My name is Sugawara Koushi and i'm the vice-captain of this club." He had a soft and prince-like voice which helped calm you down. His smile was bright and charming, fit for royalty. He extended his arm gracefully and you carefully shook it.

It took a full ten minutes to get to know everyone in the club. Sawamura Daichi, the first person who spoke was the captain of the team. He definitely seemed intimidating at first but had a fatherly aura to him which made him a perfect fit for a captain. Azumane Asahi, the bearded man immediately cleared up all the rumours I've heard about and clarified that he was just an innocent 17-year old student. Then you were introduced to the second years and the rest of the first years who you weren't familiar with. Tsukishima shocked you the most since he was pretty much the tallest member of the club and he was only a first year. You didn't know how you went three months of school without knowing he was in the class right next to yours. With his height and blonde hair, you wondered how you could possibly miss him. Lastly, Hinata and Kageyama showed you the current manager, Shimizu Kiyoko.

She's breathtaking.

Her silky black hair flowed in the air as she turned to greet you. All you could do was stand in front of her and be stunned. You felt like you definitely stared at her a second too long before introducing yourself which made things awkward but fortunately, she didn't seem to notice. She was about to ask you about something but she didn't get to finish her sentence as two screams filled the echoing gym.

"Kiyoko-senpai!"

You turned around to the entrance and fear took over your body once again.

The buzzcut and the blonde streak duo.

They were preoccupied with Shimizu so you tried your best to avoid attention and inch closer to the two boys you actually knew but before you could even make it anywhere close to the red and black haired duo, the two upperclassmen shifted their gaze from their senpai to you.

"Ah, Shoyo! So it worked!" The shorter of the two exclaimed as he jumped up and down, pointing at the red hair opposite him who was jumping up and down in the same manner.

You stood in the middle of the court confused. Work? What worked?

"Don't tell me you actually went through with the plan." Daichi scolded, his hands already crossed in front of his chest, to which the other third years responded with a laugh while the buzzcut, blonde streak guy and Hinata froze in the presence of their upset captain. "Oh so that's why you're here Y/N! Don't tell me you actually believed the things Nishinoya and Tanaka were saying." Sugawara attempted to sigh before chuckling himself as he put his hand on the captain's shoulder in an attempt to calm him down.

"I told you it would backfire." The tall blonde sniggered alongside his olive green haired partner.

After a few minutes of scolding, Daichi made Nishinoya, Tanaka and Hinata apologize to you, which took you a few moments and an explanation from Sugawara as to why they had to apologize to why they had to do so. According to Suga's explanation, the volleyball club was desperate to find a new manager since the third years would be graduating soon. As an act of desperation from Hinata, and a drive to impress their senpai for Nishinoya and Tanaka, they came up with a plan that would intimidate and scare you into joining the team. Though Hinata claimed and insisted that the second years went overboard and tweaked their plans on a whim.

"Well, now that everyone is here, Y/N, I think you can finally properly introduce yourself since all the distractions are out of the way." Daichi sighed, shaking his head at his troublesome players.

You held your breath and faced your future, much taller teammates. Even though they are intimidating, they seemed much more fun than you thought. This moment may not be that pleasant in real time but you're sure you could laugh back at this moment in the future.

"My name is Y/N and I'm in class 1-5." You started, glancing from left to right. "I guess I'll be your manager from now on so... I look forward to working with you all." You bowed towards the unfamiliar faces. Your words were shortly followed by a series of cheers. "I guess this would be my life from now on for the next three years." You thought to yourself.

6:00 PM

Three hours later, the Friday sun began to set. Though you have done the bare minimum of only watching balls get thrown across the room for several hours, you felt exhausted. The boys had three-on-three games amongst each other and you felt like you've aged ten years after watching a handful of them. If matches against their own teammates are that intense, you wonder what would happen in a real match against actual rivals. You prayed that you won't get high blood pressure by the end of the year.

"All right, that's all for today. Don't forget that morning practices are still on for tomorrow and that the practice match against Aoba Johsai will start at two in the afternoon so make sure to pack a lunch." The coach, Ukai Keishin, who you didn't notice was the coach until thirty minutes into practice because of his youthful hairstyle, announced before the whole room scattered to clean the gym. You were in the middle of folding the chairs and storing them when it hit you.

Tomorrow is a Saturday.

You have also just realized that unlike the other clubs you've barely joined in the past, the vast majority of sports clubs train on the weekend as well. You mentally facepalmed yourself and cursed at Hinata under your breath for getting you involved in the club. A distant sneeze was heard from the red haired boy.

The clean up was easier than you thought, you were only halfway done picking the balls up from the ground when Nishinoya and Tanaka proudly announced that they were done mopping the floors in an attempt to impress their senpai manager. Shimizu quietly chuckled with you as the two of you continued to fill your arms up with more volleyballs.

"So, Y/N, I think you should get one of the boys to walk home with you. We don't usually stay back until late at night like today but it might be scary to walk home alone." Shimizu advised you as the two of you stored the balls away in the storage room. But before you could even ask for anyone's help, the bright red-head started bouncing off the storage room walls. "I'll walk home with you Y/N!" Hinata proposed eagerly as he dropped the folded net in the corner of the room. "But Hinata, don't you live in the mountains? That's the opposite way from my house." You said, turning him down but despite your rejection, he was still keen to walk you home and insisted on going.

"I'll walk you home instead, I don't think I burned as much energy as I wanted to today so I don't mind a longer walk home." The black haired first year suggested. You raised your eyebrow and found it baffling that he felt like he didn't burn as much energy as he wanted to despite just finishing a three hour long practice where he constantly had to run and jump.

You and Kageyama began to walk together. The sun was already out and the yellow tinted street lights were the only thing illuminating the streets besides the pale moonlight.

"Um, Y/N, we are headed towards your house right?" Kageyama abruptly spoke as the two of you began to enter your neighbourhood. "Yeah, why'd you ask?" You asked back. "That's a weird coincidence, I live on the same street." He stated, with a concerned and focused look, probably thinking of a reason why the two of you have never seen each other despite having the same route to and from school. It took you a few minutes to realize that you never go to school as early as him and go home as late as him because you're never had morning and afternoon practice before.

"Oh, yeah! I've been in sports clubs for so long that I forgot that normal people don't have the same schedules as we do." He lightly chuckled after you voiced your thoughts.

"Gah! Teddy, NO! Don't piss on my leg!" A voice yelled in the midst of the serene and empty night. Kageyama stopped abruptly as the voice filled the deserted street. The voice began to quiet down and started mumbling muffled words but It didn't die down. In fact, it started to grow clearer and you and Kageyama started walking again. Shortly, you and Kageyama stood in front of a sweaty brown haired boy walking a small brown poodle.

"O-Oikawa-san?" You turned to your teammate.

Kageyama knows this freak that has been yelling and talking to himself?

The boy shifted his gaze sharply from the dog to you and Kageyama. "Oh, it's Tobio-chan!" He sniggered as he ran his fingers through his hair.

His face was pretty and fair. Even under the yellow street lights illuminating him, you could see his sparkling brown eyes matched his equally as captivating brown hair perfectly. You rarely found deep interests in random strangers even if they were attractive but you can't seem to take your eyes off the one standing right in front of you.

"What are you doing here?" The stranger in the turquoise and white jacket asked. His voice was stern, as if he demanded an answer from Kageyama. "Er- I live in this neighbourhood." Kageyama mumbled but it was loud enough to be heard by you and the boy standing in front of him. "Really?! The one time my family decided to move to a new neighbourhood, you happen to be my neighbour?" He groaned, face palming dramatically while Kageyama continued to stand beside you awkwardly in silence. You began to question the identity of the stranger. He seemed like he hates Kageyama a lot but Kageyama isn't doing anything. In practice, it seemed like any little thing Tsukkishima and Hinata did and said made him scream in annoyance but this guy who was so blatantly rude to him isn't triggering him at all.

"Alright, alright! I get it, you need to pee!" The irritated brunette screamed at the odd acting dog that has been scratching his trouser for the past five minutes. "Tobio-kun, I look forward to destroying you in the match tomorrow." He declared with his chin up, pushing his concerns for the dog away momentarily before walking past you two Karasuno students towards a nearby park.

You questioned and interrogated the now, much more quiet teammate and squeezed as much information you could in the remaining two minutes you had with Kageyama before you reached your home.

His name is Oikawa Toru and he goes to Aoba Johsai, the school Karasuno is playing against the next day. You tried to squeeze more information about the memorable stranger from the raven haired setter but all he told you was that he was his senpai back in middle school

12:00 AM

You plopped on your bed after a long day and closed your eyes to process the things that have happened in the last twelve hours alone. Even reliving the events that occurred earlier that morning overwhelmed you. You couldn't believe you went through all that in a single day. Despite the variety of chaos you endured that day, you went to sleep that night with an image of a peculiar yet oddly endearing brunette stuck in your mind.

next:  -ˏˋ chapter two ˊˎ-

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 24

I should really put effort on summaries, right? Anyways... Enjoy! ❤️

Table of Contents

Going Dark - Part 3

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

MacTavish Residence, Glasgow, Scotland

Roach never would have guessed that MacTavish was a big time. Their 'old' house was already a mansion, complete with guest rooms, extravagant furniture and even an outdoor pool. Roach could stay here forever.

He was laying on a queen sized bed relaxing after a tiring chase earlier when Ghost knocked on his door and let himself in.

"What's wrong mate?" he asked, lifting only his head. Ghost leaned by the door and crossed his arms.

"You know how I got into a little argument with France back in Brazil right? Well, I still regret it ever happening…" he frowned, as shown by the way the fabric of his mask twitched.

"You regret which part? The fighting or the telling her what you feel?" Gary asked, cornering the ever vague Simon. He always does that when it comes to asking for advice.

Ghost ran a hand across his face and groaned.

"Bloody Hell, mate. Why do you have to ask those kinds of things?" he complained.

"So I could be clear as to which one I should recommend you to do." He replied quickly. He was very willing to help, but if Simon refuses to cooperate, then maybe he could handle it on his own.

"There's still one thing… I've been meeting with Alexandra not just for intel… " the tone of his voice was hesitant but he took a sharp inhale and continued.

"... we've also been sleeping together. No strings attached. For her it eases her tension from all the work while I try to forget about my feelings for Francine."

Gary didn't know what to say. Simon wasn't the kind of person to give up easily, and he fully understood the reasons for his latest actions.

"Well, it looks like Francine already made her choice, right?" Gary asked, trying to confirm from Simon that he already lost the battle.

"I'm not quite sure. Everytime I see her, she's physically distancing herself from Soap but later that night, they actually slept beside each other. She's making me confused and it still makes my heart beat for her…" Ghost admitted. As tough as he is on the battlefield, so was his admiration toward Francine. Gary pondered on how to help out his friend in this love triangle situation he caught himself in, but every direction he thought of would result in Ghost actually ending up sad.

The discussion was interrupted when a plane was heard from the distance, as it approached the nearby open area. It looked like the girls made it home.

"Looks like they're here." Roach sounded excited while Ghost looked worried.

~

It was impressive how they managed to bring most of their stuff from Brazil here in Scotland. It wasn't that much but the idea of packing things for six people in a hurry made Roach impressed.

"How did you bring most of this stuff?" Roach curiously asked Maxine as he helped her carry her stuff.

"Well, Samantha asked for help from his Dad and they immediately flew to Brazil." Maxine replied cheerfully, Roach loved how she managed to see the bright side of everything amidst the panic.

"So will Samantha-"

"No. They had a long talk with his Dad and she felt much safer back here with us. Her Dad wanted to offer help now that the New York Attack was over, but Samantha insisted, especially now that they're out hiding."

"Doesn't he have the power to like, pardon us for being wanted? That would make life much more easier for us."

"I thought of that too… but they're seeing Shepherd differently now. He's gone mad. And they want to corner him. Any action involving him may result in a global cripple. And I just heard all this on the plane ride here." Maxine frowned.

"Then that makes our job of locating him all worth it." Roach smiled giving hope to Maxine.

Maxine just nodded, her face was full of fear and doubt. She just wished all of this was over.

With Soap probably asleep, Roach had the liberty of touring the girls around the house, it was huge and spacious that each of them could occupy a room with about two more rooms to spare.

"Man, I could stay here forever." Roach mused as they walked the halls of the second floor. These four rooms are already occupied, most of the empty rooms are over there…" Gary pointed to the other end of the hall. Maxine looked at France and nodded as they both agreed to stay in one room.

"What about you, Miss Samantha?" Gary asked with sophistication, imitating a butler. Samantha giggled and blushed.

"I'll actually be sleeping with Alex, thanks Mr. Sanderson." she replied, playing along with Roach's role play. For a short moment, Roach felt relaxed. He hasn't felt like this for a while and it was too overwhelming. But while the enemies hid in the shadows, he was sure the team would be up for a tough fight anytime soon.

Despite being tired, Roach couldn't sleep. He felt that there was something or someone else he needed to consult. So, he decided to get up and get himself a glass of water down the kitchen. While he could hear himself gulping down a glass of water, he could also hear faint thumping from the basement. With high alert, he began descending down the stairs to investigate the source of the sound.

It was Simon. He was still up and doing sparring rounds with a red punching bag, each of his punches sent the bag swinging violently.

"You okay?" Gary finally asked, alerting Simon of his presence.

"Can't sleep." he said nonchalantly, giving the punching bag another mighty punch. Roach took a minute to admire the huge gym Soap had, each piece of equipment probably spent a fortune. He slowly paced to the small area filled with equipment and grabbed himself some boxing mitts and a protective helmet.

"So, why don't we resume our little talk?" Gary called as he presented himself to Simon on full boxing coach gear. Simon immediately positioned himself and Gary did the same as they began training with the intention of talking it out.

Simon's punches were heavy, Roach could feel a little emotion on each hit he made and it was starting to make him unstable.

"So, anything you'd want to discuss?" Roach initiated, his hands carefully met his punches as they circled around the area.

"I've been trying to ignore her, Gary. You see me try right? But the more I don't think of her, the more excited I get when I accidentally see her. It's frustrating." He explained in between his punches. There it was, the thing bothering him the most.

"What did she say back in Brazil? She probably said something that kept you from moving on. I can't think of anything else that might cause you to feel this way, unless you're lying." Roach tilted his head so he could see Simon's reaction. His punches stopped coming and he just stood there, his hands dropped to his sides.

"She… she didn't say anything… but she distances herself to John while I'm around."

"John MacTavish or John Price?" Gary interrupted, in an attempt to brighten up the mood, but instead all he got was Simon's 'are-you-kidding-me-right-now?' look.

"But when I'm not around, she finds time to see him…" Simon continued. Gary took off his gloves and tapped his shoulder.

"She… she was being considerate." Simon concluded. It looked like Gary did his job. He could feel Simon's shoulders relax upon realizing what was actually going on.

"Despite all that… she sacrificed a little just to not hurt you." Gary added, he had no intention of making Simon guilty but now that he realized it, he was making an impact toward the relationship that was blooming between Soap and France.

"Thanks, Gary. For being a great friend…" Ghost took off his gloves and walked out of the gym.

"... and the worst therapist." He joked with a grin as he walked up the stairs and left Gary in the gym.

"I hope you find your peace, Simon." Gary muttered.

The following morning, the team was already busy walking around the house. Soap was on the phone with a long list of things the girls ordered for their restock. It was planned that for the time being, the team was to stay in the MacTavish residence while Nero and Shepherd were off the grid.

Price and Jack started their own little command center inside Soap's father's office just by the living room. They began creating connections to their closest contacts to track activity from their enemies. Ghost seemed to be not around at the moment and Gary guessed he's still asleep.

Soap nodded a greeting to Roach as he walked by him on his way to the kitchen. Maxine and France were out opening drawers and anything in the pantry to clear up space for supplies. From the kitchen window, Gary spotted Samantha, Alex and Nikolai in front of a truck. Gary overheard that Nikolai wanted to go back home and he guessed today was the day he'd do so.

"I didn't know what kind of sugar you needed so I kinda ordered a bunch of em." Soap announced to the sisters and they laughed.

"The clerk kept asking me of brown, white, confectioners and some other and honestly I don't know which." he shrugged and scratched his head.

"Hey man, I was just wondering… why did you choose the risky life? When you had everything you ever needed here?" Gary asked the question that has been bothering him since he got here.

"I dunno Roach. It's just that I knew it was calling out to me… You also sound like my Mum when I told her I'm joining the force." he chuckled. Gary just nodded but still didn't understand his logic. But he dismissed the thought as soon as Maxine and France asked for his help reaching something by the cabinets.

The rest of the day was busy. Once supplies arrived, everyone else was preoccupied. Lifting boxes, arranging items, looking for intel. It was like they made their own 141 base inside the house.

By the time they're almost free, Roach and Maxine were already in the kitchen preparing for dinner.

"So, any new dreams lately?" Roach initiated as he sliced through the vegetables they're cooking.

"Piece by piece. Last night I remembered having gum stuck on my hair on picture day. I cried a lot." she giggled. Roach smiled, he was glad she's getting her memories back which made him remember of Samantha's case.

"Ow!" Gary winced as he accidentally cut a short scrape on his thumb. He was so busy staring at Maxine that he forgot he was chopping.

"Don't worry. It's just a small wound." Gary assured as Maxine pulled his thumb close to her mouth and blew air through it, just like when you're a kid and you do that to ease the pain.

Gary couldn't help but smile at her immediate action. She also looked concerned and worried about his welfare.

"Hey Max." he whispered, making the girl turn to him, her face was so beautiful in Gary's eyes.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing… It's just that…"

"What is it? You're making me worried"

"I really really like you, Maxine Winters."

Maxine looked at him in the eye, the eye contact they were doing was starting to make the world fade behind them.

"Guys! I have bad news." Soap interrupted, causing everyone to form a small circle by the living room.

"Ghost left. With a note saying he'll try to gather more information on Shadow Company with Alexandra's help. He says thanks and that he'll see us all soon." Soap summarized the note. The room fell silent.

Next Chapter : Off the Grid

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @smokeywhalee @whimsywispsblog @beemybee @ricinbach

[rabbitrah]

Treasured Hatred

When I moved to a new town when I was 11, I had never really experienced bullying. I was a weird kid and had experienced people saying mean stuff to me, but my elementary school had a cohesive anti-bullying plan, so it was never a real issue.

Then I went to a new school. These kids were fresh from an elementary school that definitely did not have a cohesive anti-bullying program. They existed in an iron-clad social hierarchy with clearly marked Undesirables at the bottom who were routinely tortured and humiliated by the Social Elites. Talk about culture shock.

I was quickly sized up by my peers and shuffled towards the bottom of the social ranks. There were about 4-5 kids beneath me, but I was still quite a ways from the middle. I observed my classmates carefully, trying to understand this sixth grade dystopia I had just landed in.

There was one girl who was the unquestionable leader and the biggest bully. She had a circle of friends, and beneath them were the kids who weren't her friends, but who had their own clout and she didn't pick on. Then there were those on the bottom of the pile. Generally they either looked or acted differently from others. Most were ND, I'm sure. These kids formed a loose friend group, but I avoided them, sensing that it was safer to eat alone rather than join them.

When the Social Leader started to pick on someone, often out of nowhere, her peers were quick to back her up. Often the middle-rung kids would also pitch in, until almost the entire class would single out to taunt one particular person. I became one of her targets as well, for a time. I wasn't attacked as persistently as some others, but she'd routinely pick something arbitrary about me to mock. I remember one day she made me cry because I said my favorite color was purple.

Others didn't have it so easy. Once, during a game of dodgeball, one of the lowest-rung kids made the mistake of complaining about something the Social Leader had done. One of the middle-crust kids overheard and went over to report this like they were a member of the secret police or something. She immediately stormed over to confront him. She called him names and told him what a terrible person he was. Her friends backed her up. The middle crust kids backed her up. He started to cry. She said, "Why are you crying? I'm the one who should he crying! YOU did this!"

Later in the girl's locker room, they continued to talk about what a terrible person he was, how dare he, what a cry baby, etc. The thing that shocked me most of all was that one of the bottom crust girls, a favorite target of the Elites and someone who I had thought was his friend, joined in. The Social Leader was delighted by her contribution. The girl didn't earn a higher ranking in the hierarchy, but she did get a brief spotlight of approval, and basked in it. I felt nauseous.

My own social salvation came when I made a friend in the other sixth grade class. She was a star soccer player with social skills and thus had full immunity from bullying. This girl, who would later become my best friend, was tough as nails. At the age of eleven she had learned to stare down and scare off anyone who approached her with even slightly taunting energy. For many years after I would be almost embarrassingly grateful to her from rescuing me from being an eternal outcast.

My new friendship gave me something to hold onto, but she was in another class and couldn't protect me most of the time. A memorable event included the Social Leader leading our warm-ups in PE. (Literally, where was our gym teacher?) She made us run laps in the gym basement with the lights off. I found it extremely scary and asked if she'd turn them on. She laughed at me for being afraid of the dark and taunted me for the rest of class. Eventually I cried, which she also found funny. Still, having a friend meant that I wasn't alone in the universe. I had someone I could talk to after school who would nod knowingly and then talk ask if I wanted to watch X-men.

Things were much better in the seventh grade. My best friend was in the same class as me. So was social leader, but she couldn't get near me anymore. When I stood by my best friend, I imagined that there was a forcefield emanating from her. I was protected. We had a few other friends as well, book worms who were less concerned about seeming cool. The social hierarchy was changing.

Close to the end of the year I had to work on a group project with my old bully, one of her friends, and the most bullied kid in our grade. While we were working, he said something innocuous, and she started mocking him and saying it was stupid. Her friend started to laugh along with her. Their target was getting red in the face. I remembered the way she'd made so many kids cry for no reason, confident that everyone around her would either join in or stay silent. I hated her so much, and in that moment, even without my best friend's forcefield to protect me, I wasn't afraid.

I looked her straight in the eye with my coldest stare and said "That's not funny." The energy shifted dramatically. I defended what their target had said. There was silence. Pure loathing flowed from her to me and I sent it right back. She wanted to put me back in my place, I know she did, but I hadn't been a target of hers in a year. She looked over at her friend, who wasn't laughing anymore. He said, "Oh, yeah. I guess I can see that now." My old bully was mortified.

I don't remember what happened after that, just the roar of victory in my ears. I finally understood it. She was still a miserable little sadist, but the source of her power was the people around her, and I was one of those people. When I saw her edging in for the kill, I had the power to knock the knife out of her hand, and now I knew that none of her friends would jump in to stop me.

By the eighth grade the social dynamic had completely shifted into three distinct camps: Hers, mine, and the boys, who had segregated themselves for some reason and owed allegiance no one. Happily, there didn't seem to be any more outcasts. The boys who had been bullied were now a member of the Boys. The girls who had been outcasts were absorbed into our group. Looking a certain way, dressing a certain way, and social awkwardness weren't grounds for alienation any longer. I don't know if she was even the leader of her group anymore.

None of this felt as tangible or serious by the time we were in high school. There were easily four times as many people and we all started to exist in nebulous, overlapping friend groups. My old bully wasn't particularly popular or noteworthy anymore, but I never stopped hating her. I kept the memories of the fear and emotional pain she'd inflicted in my pocket and I was careful not to lose them.

The last time I saw her, we were 21. I was having a drink in our town's pub with my roommate, someone who I went to our high school but I'd gotten close to only later. My old bully walked in and saw my roommate. They'd been on a team together, gone to a few parties together. She made a beeline for our table with a "Hey girl!" eager to catch up. She only recognized me afterwards. We acknowledged each other and she went back to chatting with my roommate. When she said goodbye, she moved in to give me a hug. I hugged her back.

I wonder if she ever remembers the things she used to do and say as a child. Does she remember it at all?I can remember how much I hated her, but now my anger has a different target. Where were the adults in our lives for all of this? Why did her family fail to teach her how to be kind? Where were her teachers in grades k-8 who failed to notice this behavior and create a plan to combat it in a healthy way? Why didn't any adults step in when kids were being tormented for their appearance and neurodivergences?

I don't know why I'm writing about this now. I was rummaging through my pockets and found that old hate, I guess. I never did lose it. But I'm casting it out now. It's easy to say that children are cruel, but more accurate to say that they don't have to be, not when the adults in their lives show them how to forge a kinder road. I hope my old bully, an adult woman now, found that road at some point. I hope she's walking it, and I hope that she has people with her who love her. If she remembers any of it at all, I hope she forgives herself.

You were a child, and someone should have been looking after you too.

[numbjaw]

Suspicious Minds

Prompt: Erasermic. I see you specialize in angst. Hizashi saves a woman and she ends up kissing Hizashi (who is with Shouta and he didn't kiss back) and it gets photographed. It circulates around UA before Hizashi finds out. Shouta finds out and breaks it off with Hizashi thinking he's cheating but doesn't say way to him. Class A is protective of Shouta and refuse to let Hizashi near him. Todoroki is the one who figured it out and they decide to help Hizashi win back Shouta. And it works. - phoenixtodoroki

Shoto Todoroki was too buried in his studies to get involved in the gossip huddle taking place towards the front of the classroom; it wasn’t that he didn’t notice, he just didn’t care. Through hushed tones and electrified whispers, he put together some clues: something about a photo and someone of notoriety ‘cheating’. Based on Tenya’s quietness, it probably wasn’t cheating of the academic kind.

With the League of Villains currently in retreat again, things in Musutafu had been pretty mundane and quiet lately - a so-called “purse-snatcher” week. It was really no wonder some celebrity scandal was fueling the interests of his classmates this morning; there simply wasn’t anything else to talk about.

Shoto continued to look through his notes, even as Aizawa came in and sent the rest of 1-A into a clumsy scramble back to their seats. Aizawa, of course, punished them for not being seated with one of his newest challenges: an entire hour of complete silence. And by silent, he meant silent. Anyone who made so much as an involuntary sneeze would have a lap added to gym class the following week, and more laps added for anything remotely resembling noise after that - absent-minded pencil-tapping and skipped-breakfast-stomach-growling included.

Personally, Shoto enjoyed Aizawa’s silence tests, priding himself a little on being the only student who hadn’t been given an extra lap so far. Even straight and narrow Tenya, Class Rep, had fallen victim to Aizawa’s strict practice when one of his pencils had accidentally rolled off of his desk and clattered to the floor. It must’ve haunted him quite a lot, because Shoto noticed that Tenya had now attached grips to his pencils - something they hadn’t seen since elementary school - to prevent them from rolling around.

This hour was different, though. Not a single student made a sound, but Shoto had a strange feeling that it wasn’t because they were seriously trying their best to avoid running laps. There was particular tension within the classroom, and only himself and Aizawa seemed to be outside of it. Had whatever gossip his classmates been on about that morning been that captivating? Man, it really was a boring week...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nemuri Kayama watched as Hizashi yawned into the corner of the teacher’s lounge, one of his gloved hands clutching what had become his third cup of coffee that morning. It was a little more than his usual two, but nothing too out-of-the ordinary she supposed. Still, something about her fellow instructor seemed off lately.

Literally the loudest person in the entire school, maybe even the world, Hizashi had been a little less obnoxious lately. Tired, even. She wondered if this was the effect of dating Shouta Aizawa, a man who literally kept a sleeping bag folded under his desk.

“Long patrol last night?” She asked, to which Hizashi glanced wearily over his shoulder.

“Huh? Oh, something like that,” He answered with a little grin, despite his visible exhaustion that his sunglasses did little to conceal, “Nothin' too exciting though. How about you?”

“Oh, you know my nights are always exciting…” Nemuri winked, almost causing Hizashi to choke on his coffee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the end of the hour, Shoto was fairly sure he had every word in his notebook memorized. As long as Aizawa didn’t pull any “logical ruses” about what would be on the exam next week, Shoto was fairly confident that he had nothing to worry about.

Upon being excused, the silent treatment ignited 1-A into simultaneous, unintelligible blabbering, which made Shoto sincerely miss the quiet. But a few words overheard from Izuku and Ochaco caught his attention.

“Mr. Aizawa doesn’t know yet,” Izuku said.

“Deku! Are you sure?” Ochaco exclaimed, “What makes you think that?”

“Well, several things,” Izuku began, clutching his chin thoughtfully, “He acted completely normal, for starters. I know he’s really professional and calm no matter what’s happening, but this is something really personal to him. I really don’t think he would have punished us into a silent hour if he knew - that would have been the last thing he would have wanted. Instead, he would have wanted to be engaging with us, talking to us, keeping his mind off it…”

“That makes sense…” Ochaco said, “What do you think he’ll do when he does find out?”

Izuku sighed and looked down sadly. “That I don’t know…”

“Hey,” Shoto greeted, finally took an opportunity to step into their conversation, “Not trying to be rude, but what are you two talking about?”

Izuku looked up and Ochaco tilted her head.

“You don’t know?” She asked, to which Shoto shrugged.

“I wasn’t part of the class huddle this morning," He said matter-of-factly.

“That’s right…” Izuku remembered, before looking around carefully, “It’s about Mr. Aizawa and Mr. Yamada.”

“What about them?” Shoto asked, though he felt he already had enough clues to guess. He just needed to confirm it.

“We think Mr. Yamada might be cheating on Mr. Aizawa,” Ochaco whispered, her tone as serious as it was concerned.

Shoto had to lean back slightly. So, his hunch had been right, the cheating scandal involved… their teachers? Oh man. Boring week aside, it was no wonder everyone had been so invested.

“Seriously?” was all Shoto could say as Ochaco handed him her phone.

On the screen was an image of Present Mic in his street clothes, lip-to-lip with a slender brunette in a pencil skirt, the blurred lights of the city outlining their features in what would have honestly been a beautiful photograph of a couple locked in an romantic, late-night embrace if it weren’t for the simple fact Yamada was supposed to be with Aizawa.

“No way,” Shoto breathed as he took in the photo, “Who took this?”

“Not sure. Mineta said he got it from a friend of his who was working downtown last Friday.”

Shoto’s brows lowered in suspicion. “How do we know it isn’t a lie? What if this was taken years ago?”

“Yeah, I thought that, too,” Izuku said quietly, “But look right here…”

Izuku pointed to the edge of a billboard in the photo, that, though a little out-of-focus, had an advertisement for a movie. Shoto squinted, unable to make out a date, only two characters, pointing up at a shooting star. It seemed familiar enough...

“That movie is in theaters right now,” Izuku said.

“Meaning this picture is definitely recent,” finished Ochaco.

Shoto felt a sudden pang of remorse for his homeroom teacher. Suddenly, it all made sense… but at the same time, it didn’t. At all.

Only students and staff at UA knew, but Aizawa and Yamada had been together for close to a year, having only gone public about it a few months ago. Obviously, no one within UA was surprised about it, but the tale of two opposite Pro-Heroes finding love sparked a tabloid firestorm for the first few weeks after they came out about it. Reception was positive, but mostly in that purposely-supportive-therefore-grossly-insincere kind of way, where more conservative sources questioned both the hook-up itself and the school; they were both UA teachers, after all. Though sparse, it was still enough for Principal Nezu to make a statement, quickly shutting down any claims of unprofessionalism in regards to staff relations at the school. After that, most of Japan generally didn’t care, other than Yamada’s radio fangirls and maybe Ms. Joke, who had finally figured out why Aizawa had always been so quick to shut down her not-always-joking advances. Still, she seemed to be their most genuine supporter of all, not shying away from teasing Yamada for ‘beating her to the punch’. Well, apparently Yamada had beaten her to the punch from the time they had both been students themselves at UA: half of their lifetimes together.

That’s why Yamada suddenly cheating on Aizawa didn’t make sense.

Shoto worriedly looked up to Izuku and Ochaco. “How many people did Mineta send this to?”

“Well, first he sent it to Ashido, who sent it to Aoyama, who then sent it to…” ブツブツブツブツブツブツブツブツ

Shoto spaced off as Izuku recited the entire order of recipients, who thankfully only seemed to be from Class 1-A. So far, anyway...

“We can’t let this get outside of our class,” Shoto said, “Not until we know the truth about it. I need you guys to help me contact everyone and find out where else this picture was sent.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shouta Aizawa could tell something strange was going on with his students. Not only did they, for the first time ever, all succeed in not making a sound, they had seemed to be mutually preoccupied with some kind of knowledge that he was unaware of. He threw out the idea of it being a possible seven-month early surprise birthday party right away. Thoughts of any anniversaries as a teacher or a Pro-Hero were also scrapped. There was literally nothing significant in April other than his upcoming anniversary with Hizashi, which he was certain his students had no knowledge of… unless Hizashi had said something.

Shouta felt himself smile as he sifted through the paperwork on his desk, a daydream of Hizashi sneakily getting their students in on some kind of surprise anniversary gift. It wasn’t completely irrational, Shouta figured.

But then again, when was love ever truly rational? If at all? He certainly had it bad for the Voice Hero...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hizashi was trying his absolute best to avoid his fourth cup of coffee that day as he walked to his classroom, where 1-A would be gathering shortly. Shouta had already texted him a heads-up about how unusually they were behaving by actually… behaving. Hizashi joked about being a little grateful, considering the absolute lack of sleep he’d had the night before. Shouta had replied with something along the lines of knowing a good remedy for sleep, combined with a winking emoji, which made Hizashi forget all about his need for more coffee.

Yamada, Hizashi:

Don’t tease me at work like this

Read at 11:36 AM

Sho 🐱❤️:

Or what?

Yamada, Hizashi:

I might just need to have a private meeting with you

Read at 11:36 AM

Sho 🐱❤️:

I really enjoy meetings. ;-)

‘Again with the winky face?!’

Yamada, Hizashi:

Class is starting soon. 

I’ll deal with you later.

Read at 11:38 AM

Sho 🐱❤️:

You better.

Tenya Iida was one of the first students in, as usual. But as Hizashi greeted him, he was met with a not-so-usual response: a very reserved “Morning” in lieu of his usually pitch-perfect “Good morning, Mr. Yamada!”

It only continued as more students almost seemed to cautiously shuffle into the room. Some of them neglected to even greet him at all, and probably most striking was how every single one of them sat at their desk and said absolutely nothing to each other.

“Sheesh, Shouta wasn’t kidding…” Hizashi thought. He hadn’t seen them like this since their first day at UA.

Hizashi cleared his throat and looked over the students thoughtfully. He was never one to break under a tough crowd. Whatever prank, scheme, or demonstration Class 1-A was on about today wouldn’t phase him. Clearly, they were all dead-set on silence today,maybe out of protest for Shouta’s continued push for it, so Hizashi would have to assure the next fifty minutes went exactly the opposite of quiet. His specialty.

Thinking quickly, he targeted Tenya first. No matter what was going on, he was certain the Class Rep would always have an opinion to declare - especially when it regarded ethics. Seeing as all of the instructors were collaborating on the exam, his lessons were crossing into Shouta’s, and vice-versa.

“Iida,” Hizashi started, “Can you tell the class the definition of a ‘vigilante’?”

Tenya stood up, though some hesitation was clear. “Vigilantes... are groups or individuals who act independently, usually attempting to perform the duties of Pro-Heroes, but outside of the law and without licenses. Despite acting in good faith… vigilantism is considered illegal.”

“That it is! Don’t let the Good Samaritan act fool ya,” Hizashi praised, as Tenya sat back down. He then noticed Tenya bowed his head, as if ashamed - but why? He’d answered perfectly. Was it because he answered anything at all? Was 1-A really attempting a silent protest? Not in Present Mic’s class. “Righty-o. So! Can any of you tell me what you should do if you encounter a vigilante out in the field?”

Silence and stillness. It was a hard-ball question, Hizashi supposed. Shouta’s so-called “problem child” Izuku Midoriya would probably be a good student to call on, Hizashi figured. The kid wasn’t so much as a goodie-two-shoes as he just genuinely wanted to excel whenever he could, even if it meant going against the grain from time to time. The perfect student, as far as Hizashi was concerned.

“Nothin’, huh? How about… Midoriya. Tell the crowd what you think you should do if you encounter a vigilante.”

Izuku mirrored Tenya’s hesitation, but eventually stood none-the-less. “They’re considered criminals… so maybe apprehend them, but...” Izuku said, before his eyes swept up at Hizashi, “It depends on the situation…”

Hizashi tilted his head. Why had Izuku said that so… directly? “Go on...?”

“Right,” Izuku murmured, then looked back down, “If a vigilante is encountered during an incident with a villain, you’d have to prioritize the villain over the vigilante. But, if a vigilante is assisting a citizen, it’s best to help, or at least take over if possible. And, I suppose if a vigilante is encountered alone, you should attempt to apprehend them, but no matter what the circumstance, you must contact the police as soon as possible.”

“Nailed it! That was a mouthful, though - y’all catch all that? I hope you did!” Hizashi sang, shifting through Aizawa’s notes. He really did hope the rest of 1-A had paid close attention, as Izuku had just supplied the exact correct answer to one of their upcoming exam questions. It was hard to tell, though. No one was asking questions about it. No one was asking for it to be repeated. No one was speaking unless called on. No one was even taking notes. Hizashi’s smile faded slightly.

“Can anyone name which statute that affected vigilantism?” He asked.

The weird tension in the room only seemed to thicken like humidity when Hizashi called on Momo Yaoyorozu, who wasn’t so much distressed, but rather… angry. Towards who or what, Hizashi had no idea, but it certainly wasn’t him… right?

“The Rhode Island New State Statute,” She said effortlessly, without even looking at Hizashi.

“How many vigilantes were affected?” Hizashi challenged, to which Momo met him with a glare.

“Over a hundred.”

Hizashi waved a finger at her. “Ah-ah. How many exactly?”

“You know, maybe you should answer that… how many others?” Momo said, “Or was it just the one?”

Hizashi tilted his head as the rest of 1-A looked to Momo in shock.

“Do you… not know?” Hizashi asked, looking over his sunglasses at Yaoyorozu.

“Oh, I know. We all know,” Momo muttered, before sitting down, looking as though she was close to crying. The rest of the class seemed to have absorbed her words, which seemed to affect Mineta the most as he down-right sunk into his seat.

On second thought, maybe 1-A was better off staying silent after all. Honestly, Hizashi hadn’t been so relieved for a class dismissal since he’d been a student himself. As soon as 1-A had finished filing outside, he texted Shouta immediately.

Yamada, Hizashi:

Yooooooooooooooooooooooooo 

you were right! 1-A was OFF AF

Hizashi, mostly confused, tried not to think about why Shouta didn’t respond to him right away. What had Momo meant when she said ‘how many others’?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shoto managed to catch Momo out in the hallway while Izuku and Ochaco got stuck behind a wall of students departing for lunch. She was still flustered, he noticed.

“That was a little harsh back there, don’t you think?”

“How was it harsh?” She shot back, “The guy’s a total sleazebag, cheating on Mr. Aizawa like that!”

“Keep your voice down,” Shoto warned, “This’ll only get worse if it spreads.”

“Well, maybe it should,” Momo argued, “He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this.”

Shoto looked over his classmate sympathetically. He understood her pain well, as they had both developed a special bond with Aizawa after the final exams; just the idea of someone trying to hurt their teacher made his left side want to ignite.

“Look, I’m not disagreeing, but whether it’s true or not, we owe Mr. Aizawa his privacy. Can you imagine the media circus if that picture gets outside of our school?”

Finally, Momo’s dark eyes softened with the realization of the matter; she couldn’t imagine how downright embarrassed, ashamed, and angry Shouta would feel if that image of his boyfriend got plastered over every tabloid imaginable, along with pictures of him, and maybe even UA...

“You’re absolutely right, Todoroki… I’m so sorry,” She sighed, and calmed herself, a familiar confidence returning to her eyes. “What do we do?”

“First, we need to convince everyone else to delete the picture off their phones. Deku and Uraraka are already working on that part. I was thinking about tracking down Mineta’s friend, the one who took it in the first place, and find out if they sent it to anyone else other than Mineta. Maybe even get a little more context behind it, too.”

“Todoroki…” Momo realized, “You... really don’t think Mr. Yamada cheated, do you?”

“I just don’t want to believe that he actually did,” Shoto sighed, “So, will you help us out?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yamada, Hizashi:

Yooooooooooooooooooooooooo 

you were right! 1-A was OFF AF

Read at 12:08 PM

It was late in the evening. Hizashi’s once-mild concern over being left on read had graduated to a storming panic. It was absolutely unlike Shouta not to text him back unless something bad had happened; their status as both Pro Heroes and teachers at UA doubled this chance, and, of the two of them, it was usually Shouta who wound up hurt. Hizashi personally wasn’t sure if his heart could handle another hospital visit. Stomach continuing to knot, Hizashi attempted another text.

Yamada, Hizashi:

Getting kinda worried. You ok?

Shouta didn’t make him wait any longer, which normally would have been a relief if it weren’t for the single word that he replied with.

Sho 🐱❤️:

No.

Yamada, Hizashi:

What’s wrong?

Sho 🐱❤️:

You should know.

Hizashi swallowed a growing lump in his throat as his exchange with Momo Yaoyorozu that morning rang out in his head.

“Do you… not know?”

“Oh, I know. We all know.”

Yamada, Hizashi:

???

I have no idea

Did I forget something again?

Sho 🐱❤️:

It would seem.

Yamada, Hizashi:

Can’t be our anniversary, that’s next week... :)

Can I have a hint?

Read at 8:40 PM

Yamada, Hizashi:

Sho?

Read at 8:47 PM

Yamada, Hizashi:

talk to me!

Read at 8:52 PM

Yamada, Hizashi:

I honestly have no idea what’s wrong. But I’ll make it right, whatever it is. Don’t leave me in the dark, Sho. Please?

Hizashi’s thumb hesitantly hovered over the call option on the phone screen, but he refrained, chalking it up to a really weird day. Maybe Shouta just needed to sleep off whatever it was, Hizashi thought, as he went on to wonder what exactly he had forgotten about that had made Shouta react as he did.

What had he forgotten? Shouta’s birthday was November 8th… right?

Suddenly, Hizashi wasn’t really sure about anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Touma Okamura was the childhood friend of Mineta and also the spark of what was becoming a wildly-growing forest fire for UA. Despite the best efforts of Shoto, Izuku, Ochaco, and Momo, it had seemed news of Present Mic’s after-school activities had already leaked outside of their class, and possibly UA. It was only a matter of time before Aizawa found out, if he hadn’t found out already. For Shoto, it was more important than ever to get the context behind the damn picture, which would hopefully stomp out the flames before the smoke was noticed by the press.

Shoto was pleased that Momo had decided to join himself, Izuku, and Ochaco on the trip into the city. The location of the photo was right outside of a gaudy souvenir store in Downtown Musutafu. It was a constantly-busy, loud area of town that never seemed to sleep or be without traffic. Shoto felt his stomach turn a little when he saw the movie billboard from the photo, “Lost Stars”, prominently displayed on a nearby rooftop. And just below, Touma, wearing a work apron.

Touma was similar to Mineta in nature: immature, rather small and squirrely, but with a Quirk that was similar to Ojiro’s - a large tail, but more lizard-like, striped with green and brown scales.

“Thanks for meeting with us,” Izuku said, as Touma just nodded, looking more bored if anything.

“No biggie,” Touma said, “Mineta gave me a heads-up about you. But just so you know, I only have five minutes before I have to get back, so I gotta make this quick. What’d you wanna know?”

“For starters… just what was going on before and after you took that picture of Present Mic,” Shoto said, crossing his arms.

Touma looked up at the sky as he recalled back. “I had a late shift that night. Got out around 9PM. I was on my way out and when I saw Present Mic and that lady. Actually took me a second to recognize it was him, and once I did I wanted to get a picture… and that’s pretty much when they kissed.”

“When you say they kissed… did it seem… mutual?” Momo asked carefully.

Touma shrugged, “I don’t know. I mean, he didn’t exactly stop her.”

“How long did it last?” Ochaco asked, and Shoto took notice of Izuku beginning to blush slightly.

“Eh, not long. Maybe only a second and she went on her way. He kinda stood there a minute watching her before walking the other way. It was pretty weird now that I think about it.”

“Did Mic seem… okay?” Shoto pressed, knowing they were running low on time.

“I don’t know. He seemed fine to me. Maybe a little confused, but fine.”

“Okamura. Why did you send the picture to Mineta?” asked Izuku.

“Because it was funny,” Touma explained, grinning in a way that definitely explained his friendship with Mineta, “I knew Present Mic was one of his teachers, and come on, that lady was super hot. I knew Mineta would get a kick out of it!”

“He’s going to get a kick out of it, alright,” Shoto muttered, as Momo glanced at him worriedly.

“Did you send the picture to anyone else?” Ochacho asked, to which Touma shook his head.

“Nope,” Touma started, “I mean, I posted it on my feed, but I didn’t tag Present Mic in it or anything.”

“Wait. You… posted it… online?” Shoto asked slowly.

“Yeah. Like, I only have maybe a hundred followers? That’s not many at all. Practically nobody else saw it. I’m kinda underground, you know?”

Shoto had to step away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hizashi awoke to a loud knocking at the door. He blinked wearily in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window, unsure as to when he had managed to fall asleep or, more so, how. Before Hizashi could check his phone, he answered the door, somewhat surprised to see Shouta standing there.

“Hey,” He smiled at first, until realizing Shouta didn’t look too pleased and was cradling a cardboard box.

“You said you wanted a hint,” Shouta said coldly, shoving the box into Hizashi’s arms, “Hopefully this will suffice.”

With great alarm, Hizashi realized all the contents inside the box were things of his that he had either gifted to Shouta or things of his that he had left at Shouta’s apartment, and Shouta was now walking away.

“Shouta, wait, I don’t understand what I did!” Hizashi called after him, setting the box down at the doorstep and running after the fellow instructor, who was making a beeline for the nearest stairwell, “Shouta!”

“Stop,” Shouta said, pausing halfway down the stairs, “Stop treating me like a fool. It won’t work.”

“I’m… not…” Hizashi trailed off, “Shouta -”

“Stop calling me that,” said Shouta, “We’re done.”

“I…” Hizashi said quietly, “Hold up a second, would ya…? I seriously don’t understand what I did…”

“If that’s really true,” Shouta said, “Then we really have nothing else to talk about.”

“Sh - Aizawa…” Hizashi tried, but it was as if he had suddenly swallowed a razor blade. Was Shouta using his Quirk on him? No, his eyes weren’t red. They were hurt.

“Going forward, I’ll maintain a professional relationship with you - but only for the sake of our students. I’ll expect you to do the same. Goodnight, Yamada.”

“Aiz…”

Shouta was already gone, leaving only the echoes of his quickened footsteps behind. Hizashi lost track of time again, standing at the top of the stairwell until the sun left the sky. Was this a nightmare? It certainly felt like one. Actually, no. Nightmares felt real. This didn’t feel real. Only the ache of his legs and the cold breeze felt real.

Hizashi walked very slowly back to his apartment, unable to stop thinking about the way Shouta had looked at him. The box was still on his porch, and within it was everything that apparently reminded Shouta of him. Hizashi heavily debated whether or not to take it inside or just throw it off the balcony, eventually deciding to take it in, hoping it was all a nightmare, or that it was some kind of cruel prank, or some strange spell Shouta and their students had fallen under… 

Strange spell...

Hizashi found his phone, not surprised to find a text from Shouta telling him he was on his way to drop off his stuff. He swiped past it, then opened a search engine instead.

“Quirks that make someone break up with you for no reason”

A definition of Quirks popped up, followed by several Cosmopolitan articles.

“Break up quirks”

Several ‘breakdown’ lists of quirks, missing the phrase ‘up’.

“Quirks that erase love”

Hizashi should have known better, as the keywords ‘quirk’ and ‘erase’ brought up a slew of Eraserhead results, including his favorite picture of Shouta - a press shot of him in his Hero gear, demonstrating his capture weapon. Shouta hated the picture, just as he hated every picture of himself, but Hizashi loved it.

He loved Shouta.

Just what the hell had he done?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Present Mic’s Newest Gig - Has Eraserhead Been Erased?” 

The headline and accompanying picture was inescapable. It was on every social media feed, television, jumbo-tron, and grocery store newsstand in Japan.

Despite this, Aizawa still showed up to school, on time and on schedule, looking as he often did - disheveled and tired. It was a little comforting, Shoto thought at first, though the toll of the breakup going viral made itself known in other ways, such as Aizawa acting far more apathetic than usual. He called on literally anyone who raised their hand, even if it was the same students over and over. When provided a wrong answer, he didn’t probe too hard for the correct one like he usually did, simply stating the correct answer himself before moving on, voice monotone and passionless. Well, more monotone and passionless. He allowed Katsuki to doodle something that remotely resembled Deku with his hair on fire, while Denki and Eijiro passed notes (as if they didn’t have cell phones) and, probably most profoundly, allowed Rikido to sleep in class.

Shoto exchanged worried looks with Momo, who also seemed to have noticed their teacher’s unusual lack of spirit as well. Shouta Aizawa was running on auto-pilot, pushing himself to teach while his personal life was being put on blast by every seedy media corporation in the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Class 1-A, with the exception of Shoto, Izuku, Ochaco, and Momo, seemed pleasantly surprised to find Midnight standing at the podium in English class. Unlike Aizawa, news of the picture had apparently sent Yamada into hiding.

“Mr. Yamada is home sick today, so I’ll be taking over for him,” Kayama explained, careful not to give away too much, “After lunch, you’re all to return back here for Art History. I’d rather not have to shuffle my things between two classrooms if I don’t have to, so I’ll shuffle all of you instead. Work smarter, not harder… depending on what you’re doing, anyways.”

Minoru Mineta made a semblance of a wheeze, one of his first signs of life since the scandal had begun. He’d been unusually quiet otherwise, probably sensing he’d made a mistake by carelessly circulating the photo throughout the school and not having the foresight to stop Touma from posting it to social media before it was too late.

Kayama did her best to get through Yamada’s “ineligible” notes, mostly sticking to having them read from a book written entirely in English. But just like Aizawa, they could sense she was somewhat unfocused and troubled, checking her phone far more than usual.

Once 1-A was dismissed for lunch, however, all Hell broke loose.

Shoto wasn’t sure who had spotted Mr. Yamada first, but a majority of the students had already cornered him in a hallway near the entrance. For being a Pro, Yamada looked positively startled and broken, his usual spike of hair hanging in uneven locks around his face.

“You know, if you’re sick, you shouldn’t be here,” said Katsuki, arms crossed as he stared at his teacher defiantly.

Shoto knew that tone of voice and his heart leapt; sometimes Katsuki was an even bigger hothead than his damn father was, but he wasn’t dumb enough to go head-to-head with a teacher on school grounds, was he? It seemed as though Izuku picked up on this as well, as Shoto spotted him trying to rush up to the front of the stand-off where Katsuki was.

“Yeah. Go home, Mr. Yamada,” agreed Eijiro, stirring up the other students, some of whom were outside of 1-A.

Before Shoto and Izuku could attempt to break up the line and share what they had learned from Touma, a very loud and very obvious voice, second only to Mic himself, broke out over the crowd.

All Might, dressed in his sunflower-yellow pinstripe suit, rushed beside Yamada in a cloud of smoke that generated solely from how fast he’d appeared, and looked out over the student body, smiling like usual, like there wasn’t a single thing wrong in the entire world.

“Mr. Yamada, a quick word?” All Might said, knowingly stepping between Yamada and the students, before a rush of wind shot out over their heads.

Just like that, All Might had swept Yamada out of the scene. In his wake, a small form appeared - Principle Nezu.

The atmosphere changed immediately as he looked over them, usual tea cup in hand.

“Students, shouldn’t you all be in the cafeteria?”

No arguing with that.

As they re-routed to the cafeteria, Shoto couldn’t help but think of how calculated the teacher’s rescue operation had been. Geez, what had Yamada been thinking, coming on property at a time like that? There was no way he’d get anywhere near Mr. Aizawa, not if Class 1-A had anything to do about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The teacher’s lounge was thankfully empty as Toshinori escorted a very distraught Hizashi inside.

“Would you like a coffee, or tea?” Toshinori asked, to which the other blonde simply shook his head ‘no’.

Toshinori took to the couch across from Hizashi, whom he hadn’t seen look this bad since an incident during his Bronze Age days. But at least those had been the kind of wounds that could be healed by Recovery Girl.

“I thought it was all bad enough,” Hizashi said after a while, “but now the entire school seems to hate me, too…”

“They don’t hate you,” Toshinori said, though he knew his words weren’t exactly convincing, “They’re simply suffering from the same amount of ignorance as Mr. Aizawa is.”

Hizashi forced a small laugh, but returned to leaning on his knees and staring at the floor. “I just can’t believe they’d believe it so easily. Well, no. That’s not true. I get the kids. But Shouta…? Smartest guy I know… how could he doubt me so much, y’know?”

“Haven’t you talked to him?”

“I’ve tried to. Several times. But he’s blocked me on just about everything you can be blocked on. Even our work email, somehow. That’s why I was going to try to catch him today, during lunch. Didn’t expect the entire student body to tell me otherwise, but yeah, here we are... I just want him to hear me out, for five minutes. That’s all it would take to explain to him that I have no idea who that girl even was and that she kissed me because I’d got her purse back from some crook! It all happened so fast that I wasn’t even sure it happened at all. I seriously didn’t even remember it until the tabloids came out… ughh, I can’t believe this…”

Toshinori watched as Hizashi ran his hands through his hair, yanking the strands up in frustration.

“Well, maybe I can have a word with Mr. Aizawa?” Toshinori offered.

“Ha,” laughed Hizashi, “Good luck. He won’t hear anyone out. Not me, not Ken, not even Midnight… they’ve all tried but he just gives them this generic ‘please don’t talk to me about personal matters at work’ crap!”

The door opened, signaling the arrival of Principal Nezu, who seemed a little less-than-enthused, to say the least. Hizashi and Yagi greeted him, but he strode past them to look out the window quietly.

“It seems that even our students are buying into what the press is selling…” Nezu pondered aloud, “And if our students believe it, then that’s the only truth that will matter.”

Hizashi watched as Principal Nezu turned to look at him. “Mr. Yamada, I understand this is a personal matter for yourself and Mr. Aizawa, but if it’s going to affect UA in this way then I must ask you both to come to a clear resolution immediately.”

“Tell Aizawa that.” Hizashi remarked, folding his arms.

“I already have, and he says he’s already requested professionalism from you. I’m sorry for how things are, truly, but you’re going to have to abide by this request or I’ll be forced to… restructure.”

“You mean you’ll fire me?”

“That’s not what he said, Yamada.” Toshinori cut in.

“All Might - please…” Principal Nezu took the last sip of his tea, then cleared his throat, “Mr. Yamada, there are many other schools who could… appreciate what you have to offer.”

“Tch…” Hizashi just nodded his head, mostly in disbelief.

“Have a good rest of your day, both of you,” Nezu said.

No sooner than the door closed, Hizashi stood up slowly. “I think… I’m gonna head home. Think about things. Say, Yagi. If you do happen to chat with Aizawa… ask him if there’s anything of his he wants back. Catch ya later, I guess...”

Toshinori could only watch on as Hizashi sauntered towards the door. He grit his teeth.

‘I’m sorry, Mr. Yamada, but I’m not going to ask him that.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Izuku felt as though he was underwater, too lost in thought over the situation with his teachers to really hear any of the talking going on around him. Eventually, a concerned voice caught his attention - Ochaco’s.

“Deku, aren’t you going to eat?”

Izuku looked down at his plate, finally realizing that he hadn’t touched it yet.

“I… don’t really feel hungry…” Izuku answered slowly, before looking up suddenly. “I need to go. I’m sorry. I’ll catch you in class, alright?”

“Deku, wait!”

Izuku left behind his tray, Ochaco, and the cafeteria. Maybe it wasn’t too late to catch Present Mic and ask him for his truth himself, like Shoto had suggested. Without thinking, Izuku burst into the teacher’s lounge, only finding a startled Toshinori Yagi.

“Young Midoriya!” He exclaimed, smoke puffing around him as he took his Hero form, “Students are not allowed in the faculty lounge, you know!”

“All Might - where is Mr. Yamada?” Izuku asked, though even he had to admit it sounded more like a demand, “I need to talk to him about something.”

“And what would that be?”

“The picture!” Izuku said, “Todoroki, me, and few others… we don’t think it’s what everyone is hyping it up to be. We just want to hear Mr. Yamada out.”

All Might paused, reverting back to his true form, then turned to Izuku.

“I think I may be able to help...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That evening, Toshinori watched uneasily as Shouta poured himself shot after shot of whiskey; what had once been a brand new bottle was steadily falling under the halfway-mark, and Toshinori had yet to pour any for himself. He knew Shouta needed this, though. Not the alcohol, but what it provided: an escape from the situation. If it weren’t for his duty to Class 1-A, Toshinori was pretty sure that Shouta would have left the country by now. So Toshinori merely allowed his friend to imbibe, but only within reason... reason that was quickly reaching a limit.

Shouta was dead-set on gaining the Don’t-Give-A-Fuck Quirk that alcohol so easily provided. He’d repay Toshinori for the bottle later and do penance for his sins with what would surely be the worst hangover on record the next day. Just so long as he could forget how to feel for a while. Forget the picture. Forget Hizashi. Forget the world.

Shouta reached for the bottle again, but found a large hand suddenly placed over his own. He stared at it, struggling to focus, then realized it was Toshinori’s. He glanced up at the other man, confused.

“You might want to slow down between shots,” Toshinori advised, with a polite smile that Shouta suddenly felt drawn to.

Wouldn’t that be something, Shouta thought drunkenly as he took in the rest of Toshinori, sitting so closely beside him. Wouldn’t that be just the thing to end the tale of him and Present Mic - for him to instead be with All Might. Toshinori wouldn’t cheat on him. He was too valiant, too kind, too...

Toshinori recognized the shift in Shouta’s eyes way too late; it was only a second, but Shouta had already moved in for a kiss. It took a lot for Toshinori to turn away from him. Aside from looking like an absolute hermit, Shouta had always been really beautiful to him, with a heart too big than he let on. But that heart was shattered right now and Shouta was drunk on half a bottle of whiskey.

“I’m sorry,” Toshinori breathed as he clenched his fists.

Shouta didn’t ask why. He just turned away and fell quiet again, his long dark hair falling over his face like a curtain. After a moment, Toshinori heard the sound of the bottle scraping off the coffee table and the sound of liquid being poured into a glass again.

“I think you should stop, now…” Toshinori said hesitantly.

“You won’t let me kiss you and now you won’t let me drink,” said Shouta, and Toshinori wasn’t sure if he had meant to say it out loud.

“Because I think you’ve had enough, Aizawa.”

“Aizawa…” Shouta repeated mockingly, chuckling to himself. He’d had enough, alright.

“Shouta,” Toshinori corrected, his voice settling back down to it’s more natural state, “I know things are stressful for you right now. As someone who was in the media spotlight nearly their whole career, I know how... intrusive it can be. But I promise it’s temporary. It’ll blow over as soon as the next thing happens. You just need to ride out the storm.”

“I’ve been riding it out,” Shouta argued, “And when it blows over - what then? I’ve still lost my best friend. Hm. Figures. It’s all I ever seem to do...”

Toshinori swallowed hard, understanding that Shouta was referencing Oboro Shirakumo, whom he had lost in an accident back in their high school days. Before Toshinori could even articulate how to respond to that, Shouta rose up from the couch suddenly.

“We never should have done it,” Shouta began, “I knew it would ruin our friendship. I told him it would. But he said he loved me, Toshinori. And I believed him, and we…”

Toshinori watched as Shouta cringed from a memory that he would never know of. He wanted to hug his friend, badly, but he knew Shouta would probably react in a way that wouldn’t be easy to reject. Toshinori wasn’t sure if he’d be able to deny Shouta another kiss. But for the sake of Hizashi, Shouta, and their students, Toshinori kept his distance, allowing Shouta to pace back and forth across his living room instead.

“I was an idiot, you know,” Shouta continued, “I had suspicions about him for months…”

“O-Oh?”

“Lying about where he’d been, constantly tired, smelling like women’s perfume…” Shouta said of Hizashi, “And I never questioned him. Not once. Do you know why? Because love turns you into a completely irrational fucking idiot.”

Toshinori didn’t know how to react to Shouta’s sudden outpouring of information; he knew Shouta wasn’t lying, he had no reason to, but he also knew that Hizashi wasn’t that type of guy. He was eccentric, funny, and loud - God, was he loud - but he wasn’t some heartless playboy. He openly gushed over Shouta every chance he got. He played songs for Shouta over the radio every single night. He was Shouta’s best friend for over a decade before they finally realized there was something a little more than friendship going on, a friendship that Toshinori knew neither of them would throw down the drain for something that hadn’t been substantial.

“I think that may be your problem, my friend,” said Toshinori finally.

Shouta stopped pacing and smirked. “And what’s that, Yagi? That I’m an idiot? You can say it. No need to keep playing shy. Tell me the truth. Tell me I’m an idiot.”

“No, though you are acting like one right now,” Toshinori said, “Your problem is that you never questioned Yamada, one way or the other. You never asked him yourself what was going on. You only assumed as much.”

Shouta suddenly glared, eyes flashing red, his hair rising from off of his shoulders, “Are you suggesting that I should have? He only would’ve denied it. He acted like he had no idea what I was talking about, and now that it’s on every single news site and he hasn’t bothered to say a single word to me in person.”

“That’s because the students haven’t let him get near you,” Toshinori finally revealed.

Shouta’s gaze changed back to normal and his hair fell back into place. “...what?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shoto felt exhausted by the scandal that never seemed to end. His fellow classmates seemed to feel the same. Everyone missed how things had been before - before their teachers were estranged and unfocused. The rumor floating around about Present Mic possibly being transferred to another school was met with a strange reception, too: some were happy about it, but despite everything, a good few were upset. It seemed as more time had gone on, more of their classmates had started to feel as he did, that Yamada actually hadn’t done anything wrong and that it was a total misunderstanding.

But how could they prove it, other than the word of Mineta’s idiot friend who had started the entire thing to begin with? Aizawa wasn’t having any of it, plain and simple. Shoto had tried to talk to him and he’d been shut down quicker than the time Aizawa had stopped Izuku from throwing a baseball.

It wasn’t until Izuku pulled him aside and informed him of the first promising news he’d heard since everything had begun: Izuku had gained some information from All Might, who had apparently had a little heart-to-heart with Aizawa after school hours, which revealed much more to the situation.

Aizawa wasn’t reacting based solely on a picture or the ensuing tabloids, as everyone had originally thought. He was reacting to several months-worth of suspicions over Yamada, who apparently had been very secretive over his whereabouts and even smelled like perfume at times. The revelation made Shoto’s stomach tense up. Had he been wrong, then? Had Mr. Yamada really cheated after all?

The only way to truly know was to ask Mr. Yamada himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We came because we wanted to get your side of the story.” Shoto said to Present Mic after the rest of the class had filed out. Only himself and Izuku had stayed behind.

“Why? Gossip well getting empty on you?” Yamada sneered, pretending like the paperwork on his desk was more important; most of the pages were blank, Shoto noticed.

“No, Mr. Yamada. We… sincerely just want to hear you out. We don’t believe all the tabloids or what everyone else is saying. We don’t think you cheated on Mr. Aizawa,” said Izuku.

“Then that makes two people on the entirety of planet Earth,” Yamada huffed, “Honestly, after being drowned in this for a week, I’m starting to think I really did.”

“Well, did you?” Shoto said, voice firm.

“‘Course I didn’t! That picture - that lady - I have no idea who she even was.”

“But… she’s kissing you…”

“Yes, yes, yes, because I was able to stop some jerk from stealing her purse. She was so grateful about it that she decided to jump up and smooch me - pfft, it was so quick that I forgot it even happened.”

“No wonder you were so confused when Mr. Aizawa dumped you…”

“Ya think?! And of course when I saw the picture on the news it finally clicked. But thanks to good ol’ 1-A, I couldn’t get two seconds to explain myself to him. And he’d already blocked me on everything. My only outlet was my radio show, but my producers put me on a leave of absence so I couldn’t get the word out that way either. I was really tempted to just start screaming about it from a rooftop, loud enough for him and all of Japan to hear me, buuuut that’d probably lose me my license… then again, I’ve pretty much lost everything anyways, so what would it matter? I’m kidding! Sort of.”

Shoto and Izuku glanced towards the door, where they saw Toshinori give them a thumbs-up.

Shoto cleared his throat. Stay focused. “What were you doing downtown that night, anyways? You weren’t in costume, so it definitely wasn’t Patrol, and it was too early for your radio show… and far.”

Yamada removed his sunglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, “You won’t believe me… ah, but what’s new? That was because of a side-gig I picked up about two months ago.”

“Side-gig?”

“I was washing dishes, alright?!”

“Is that code for -”

“Midoriya. No, it’s not code for anything. I was li-ter-ally washing dishes at Tonkatsu.”

“Tonkatsu? The ramen shop? Why?” Izuku asked the obvious.

“Because it’s my favorite hobby, on top of teaching you little annoyances, screaming at would-be villains, and running a radio show every night until 5am,” Hizashi said sarcastically, “To earn extra cash, duh.”

“Extra cash? For what?” asked Izuku.

“Sheesh. You kids really ought to stick to Hero work instead of detective work...” Yamada said as he fished out a small box from his jacket pocket.

“Mic -”

“This,” Yamada said, flipping open the ring box to reveal a sleek, tungsten engagement ring.

“You were going to propose to Mr. Aizawa…!” Izuku marveled, before clasping a hand over his mouth. Crap. Aizawa was right outside the door with Toshinori. Had he overheard that?

“Glad I didn’t have to explain that part, too,” Yamada teased, before sighing and tucking the box away.

“I don’t understand, why didn’t you just tell Mr. Aizawa that you picked up another job instead?” Shoto asked.

“Because he would’ve figured it out! Just like he figured out every single other thing I tried to surprise him with! When I got the idea to propose, I knew I had to be sneaky about it or he’d catch on! I just thought he might be a little smarter and know it wasn’t because I was freaking cheating on him! I guess I gave Eraser too much credit…”

Izuku jabbed Shoto with his elbow suddenly.

“U-Um. What about the perfume?” Shoto asked.

“Perfume?” Yamada repeated.

“Mr. Aizawa said you came home a few times, smelling like women’s perfume…” Shoto asked, feeling awkward as he did so.

“Did he honestly tell you guys that? As a class? Wow, he really does hate me now, doesn’t he?”

“So it’s true?” questioned Izuku, doing well to hide the fact they were the only two students from 1-A who knew, and only due to All Might letting Aizawa drink himself into a practical coma.

“Ugh. Yes, okay? But it wasn’t because I was cuddling up to some no-name lady during my dishwashing gig. It was a… personal thing…”

Shoto looked to Izuku unsurely, then back to Yamada. No way Izuku was going to ask the weird questions. Shoto cleared his throat, biting the bullet. “Do you... like smelling like a woman?”

“NO!” Hizashi boomed, his Quirk slightly blowing both Izuku and Shoto’s hair back.

“I’m gonna spit this out as quick as I can and then I’m done playing Sherlock with you two, ya dig? One time Aizawa and I planned a sort’ve - I don’t know - picnic-y thing…”

“That’s ah... cute…” tried Izuku, voice cracking. Shoto wanted to smack his own head.

“Shuddap! It was very impromptu,” Yamada said, crossing his legs, “So much so, that we didn’t realize a freak storm was rolling in and wheeeew - before we knew it, we were being doused in rain. It was so heavy that we had to stay underneath a tree for almost two whole hours until it finally let up enough for us to bounce. By the time we got home, we both had this… I dunno, earthy, rainy smell going on? Then Shouta made fun of my hair, which was totally ruined. He said I looked like a ‘sad daffodil’, so I told him he looked like a komondor. You know - that dog that looks like a literal mop? And then… he just started laughing.”

‘Mr. Aizawa laughing…? Why is that such an unsettling thought?’ Both Izuku and Shoto thought.

“I mean, I could’ve sworn I swapped Quirks with Ms. Joke for a second because I’d never made him laugh that much in my life… and ever since, I started checkin’ this perfume store next door to Tonkatsu for something resembling the rainy smell from that day.”

“The day you made him laugh,” Izuku echoed.

“Yeah. Never did find that smell again, not that it really matters that much anymore…” Hizashi sighed, before standing, “So, are we done here or -”

He trailed off, as he noticed Shouta standing at the door, mouth parted slightly in shock.

“Hizashi… is all of that true?” Shouta asked.

After a moment of shock, Hizashi fought back a sad smile. “‘Course it is, dummy. You really think I’d throw us away for anyone else?”

Shouta looked down, and Shoto noticed a slight trembling on his teacher’s shoulders that didn’t seem to be from his capture weapon.

“I’m… sorry,” Shouta murmured, “I acted completely irrationally. I should have spoken with you about it, instead of...”

Izuku watched a shift in Hizashi’s face and he glanced at Shoto worriedly. Shoto looked back, equally unsure if they were being rude by staying. Just when they got the thought to sprint to All Might and leave the two instructors in peace, Hizashi suddenly got down on his knee before Shouta and withdrew the box from his jacket once again.

“You said it yourself once,” Hizashi said as he gently opened the box, “Love isn’t rational. Makes even the smartest people stupid. Surprise, by the way.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gym class was brutal.

Well, at least for everyone except for Izuku, Ochaco, Shoto, and Momo.

It was especially brutal for Mineta, who had… somehow… earned an extra 20 laps around the track that he was expected to finish within the period.

As most of 1-A jogged along the track, Shoto glanced down from the bleachers at Mr. Aizawa and Mr. Yamada, who stood side-by-side, observing, smiling, and sometimes even laughing - about what was anyone’s guess - but it was nice to see them somehow closer than they were before, and that UA was back to normal.

Shoto looked to Izuku, who was looking worriedly at the track.

“Hey, what’s your deal?” Shoto asked him, “Do you feel guilty or something?”

“Yes,” Izuku admitted, “It feels weird just sitting here while everyone else has to run.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Midoriya,” Momo said, sunglasses on and feet propped up on the bench beside them. Ochaco mirrored her.

Shoto smirked at the girls and looked back at the track, where Mineta was visibly wearing down and practically sobbing as he struggled to keep running.

“Only 14 more to go, Mineta!” Cheered Present Mic, which was replied to with an audible groan.

“Thanks for everything, guys,” Shoto said suddenly.

“Hey, no problem. We should really be thanking you, you know,” Izuku said.

“Yeah, if it hadn’t been for you, we probably would have believed it like everybody else,” Ochaco stated, causing Shoto’s chest to stir.

“Seriously,” Momo chuckled, tilting her sunglasses up, “I was about to take Mr. Yamada out before you talked to me… thank you, Shoto.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Ochaco added.

“No problem,” Shoto sighed, mostly from relief, then looked up at the sky as a few clouds drifted over the sun.

He wondered if it might rain. He thought about the story Mr. Yamada had told them about the picnic, and Mr. Yamada and Mr. Aizawa themselves, dressed in gym clothes, running the same track when they were his age. Would he go on to know someone from 1-A for that long? Would he develop some kind of relationship like that, with someone he already knew from here?

Shoto had never really thought about it before that moment, but as the clouds moved and the sun returned, he found that he liked the idea of it.

The End

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you so much for this prompt, phoenixtodoroki! I really enjoyed writing it. First attempt at erasermic. Still feeling out all the characters and things. If you liked this, please drop me an ask for anything you’d like me to fill relating to this ship - I’d like to keep my spark going. Thank you for reading. I’ll put this on my ao3 soon.

Also, I was thinking of writing a bonus companion fic to this one regarding the disaster picnic - let me know if you’d like that sort of thing! ^^ - numby

[thetaylorfiles]

Wait what was the tea?

I’ve never considered this tea. But here’s what they’re referring to.

Years ago I had a friend who also fell down the Kaylor rabbit hole and wondered if it could be true. Apparently she spoke to TTB a few times and was into it for a few weeks and then came back to reality.

We would talk sometimes about Taylor and Kaylor stuff but mostly we just talked about life and connected over normal friends stuff. We got really close. We haven’t talked in a while because she had a baby and that takes up ALL your time but we still stay in touch.

She lives in NYC and her husband is an executive at Oscar and works closely with Josh. That’s the only part that I can “prove”. The only way I’d be able to prove it is by showing you guys our FB interactions and that her husband is on FB and that you all could look up where he works easily by googling and see that he works at Oscar amd is an executive there. But the only way to do that would be giving out their names. So I’m between a rock and a hard place there.

Anyway, all I know is what she told me about Josh. And what she knows of him through her husband and through the circle of friends they have via work, which comprise several of his business school buddies. So she and her husband are working friends with him. Not social friends. You know how that goes. And really, it’s her husband that’s work friends with him. My friend only goes along once in a while. She does not claim to know him well. And she’s only seen Karlie a couple times at big work parties and they’ve never really spoken much aside from super uninteresting pleasantries. So there’s no gossip to be had there.

Here’s what she’s said about Josh. That he’s just a really, really super decent, nice guy. And that’s his repuataipn around the office. Everyone gets along with him there from execs to underlings. He’s super smart but also laid back. Very democratic in his social views (this last bit comes from her husband sharing bits and pieces of their conversations, plus I think he made it known in the office that after Trump was elected that it was still a progressive place to work or something. I forget the last part and I’m paraphrasing badly. Something like that. But he put peoples minds at ease because of the Jared/Trump connection).

Then, also, my friend became friendly with some of his friends from business school as they all went out sometimes together. And according to them, at business school, Josh was very studious and paid a lot of attention to his coursework. But he also dated and had a couple girlfriends. Nothing super serious but also he was not the type to have one night stands only. He wasn’t the frat boy douche type. He didn’t just hook up to hook up. And also apparently a lot of girls had crushes on him there.

That’s it!

Oh, there’s one small other part, I guess.

My friend also went to the same small gym that Taylor went to. They took the same class a couple times. My friend was a super huge Taylor fan and one time snuck a photo (or two, I forget) of Taylor and Karlie there together. They were all taking a class at the same time.

My friend said they were acting like normal friends. Just having fun. And the only thing she overheard them say about Josh was that at one point, Taylor said to Karlie, “oh, you have to show this app to Josh!”

Now, during that couple of weeks when my friend entertained the possibility of Kaylor being a thing, she wrote to TTB and said, okay, so here’s what I know, here’s how I know josh and I go to the same gym as Taylor. Etc etc. TTB was ecstatic to have a “source”. But when my friend told her that all the things that TTB was saying about Josh were opposite of what she knew to be true, or that she had seen Karlie with him at a work party, etc TTB would never post about it. She didn’t post anything my friend said unless it had the right Kaylor slant to it.

Which brings us to the pictures. My friend shared the pics with TTB and told her the “show this app to Josh!” part. Well, instead, TTB took the pics and sent them to all the other big Kaylors (at the time there were other big Kaylors - this was a few years ago) and used them as “proof” that Kaylor was real. She lied about the pics, where she got them. She even would lie and say she had photographic evidence that Kaylor was real I. Her blog but she couldn’t share it (because my friend forbade her to because she actually felt really bad that she had taken a sneaky picture of Taylor and Karlie without them knowing and had sent it to someone. And at that point she regretted sending it to TTB because she was NOT a Kaylor believer anymore).

When she told me about the pics, I said, “let me post them and then she can’t lie anymore. I’ll put them up and she’ll have no ‘photographic proof’ and the other Kaylor blogs will see that she’s full of shit’”

So I posted them. And people gave me a hard time for posting private sneaky pics. TTB claimed she’d never seen them. She threatened my friend. My friend got scared because she H.D. her real email address and was afraid she’d do something like dox her.

Nothing really came of it though. And that’s all.

[iron-touch]

My Name is Cab Cavazo

TWO YEARS AGO...

As she was the CFO of a successful marketing company and he was almost always out of the house at soccer practice or a training session with his boxing coach, Cab often had little time to spend with his mother. That being said, they were as close as a parent and child could be—being a single mother often had that effect on their sons.

Though what little free time they had together was often made up of one or both of them being exhausted from the rest of their day, there was always time set aside just for the two of them. Whether it be a simple game of chess or a going out to lunch or the rare occasions she would convince her son to get a pedicure with her; they always made sure this time was well spent.

Hiking was usually Cab's preferred way to spend time with just about anyone, including his mother, and she thought it was a great source of exercise. Naturally, they ended up traversing forested trails often. The two of them usually filled the air with idle banter, with him rambling about school, sports, and spicy schoolyard secrets while she would complain about cussed coworkers.

On that day, however, he was completely silent.

He didn't mean to be. There was a lot to talk about, after all. It was his senior year of high school—finals were rapidly approaching, he needed to make a choice about where he would be going to college, and find a cute girl to ask out to prom. Yet all of those issues were dwarfed by his main concern: he didn't feel passionate about sports anymore. It was what he was good at, it was what he was expected to do; but whenever he scored a goal or landed a knockout lately, he didn't feel the same rush of adrenaline and pride in himself that he used to. He only felt apathetic to it all.

Besides, the only reason that he was good at either of those things was because he had special abilities that no one else had.

"What's bothering you?" She asked the question after about 15 minutes of hiking in complete silence.

Pulled from his thoughts, Cab suddenly became aware of the world around him; underneath his feet were crunching leaves, blowing past his body was the chill of a faint breeze, and above his head were the birds chirping in the trees. He turned to his mother and mustered up the best lie that he could.

"Nothing's bothering me," he asserted.

His mother folded her arms at him and raised a brow. "Cab. I know you better than that. If you're being this quiet, then something's on your mind." They each took one big step up a small incline and brushed back some stray leaves that stuck out from the shrubs in front of them, revealing a cliff with a breathtaking view of the rest of the forest. This was nothing new, they had hiked this trail several times before, but seeing the murky pink sky over the trees as the sun fell below the horizon was enough to ease his mind just a bit. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I'm your mother."

Cab groaned and sat down next to her, the flaky dirt sticking to his jeans. No point in continuing to hide it. "I don't know if I want to keep doing sports," he confessed.

The loud gasp that his mother responded with made him want to rip his hair out. "What do you mean you don't want to keep doing sports? You've been doing them your whole life. Why stop now?"

"I don't know," he sighed with a shrug. "I just don't really have fun doing them anymore. There's no challenge in it."

"That's because you're so good at them." She leaned over and pinched his cheek. "Is it soccer or boxing that you don't want to keep doing?"

"Both."

She tilted her head to the side. "What ever happened to wanting to be the heavyweight champion? You've been going on since you were a little kid that you wanted to be the next Buster Douglas."

Biting his lip, Cab carefully considered his words. I win every fight and every match because of Quiet Riot. There's no challenge in it anymore. I'm just going through the motions. That was what he wanted to say, but how the hell was he supposed to explain Quiet Riot to her? Oh, I've had this compass ghost follow me around for as long as I can remember that no one else can see or touch. He scratched his neck. Maybe he could give her a demonstration of Quiet Riot's ability? How would she react then? Would she panic and run? Call him a freak of nature? Just the thought made Cab feel nauseous.

"People change, Mom," he responded, "and I just don't think that soccer or boxing would make good career paths. What about when I'm 40? Or 50? I need to find something more financially stable than being a sports star." That was the best excuse he could muster up, and he was quite proud of it. With her being a businesswoman, surely she could sympathize with it.

"Well, you know how I've always felt about boxing." They both recalled the days of his youth, when she would scold him for sneaking out of the house on weekends to beg regulars at the local gym to teach him how to fight. One day, she finally relented and signed him up for professional lessons after one of said gym regulars followed him back to the house and refused to leave. "But I don't think you should give up soccer. If you do well at the game next week, I really think you could get a full ride scholarship to college. You've got one hell of an aim with your feet. It's like it's your destiny to play soccer." She affectionately nudged him. "You're destined for great things, Cab."

Cab rested his head in his hands. She could have a point. It wasn't like everyone had their own Quiet Riot that could help them aim their shots.

"Speaking of the game tomorrow," she continued, "are you nervous? Excited? I'm excited! I'm sure you'll do great, honey." She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. "Are you inviting your father to come?"

"Why would I invite him?" Cab rolled his eyes. "I haven't spoken with him in years now. You know that."

"I know, I know. I just figured that you might want him to come, considering it's going to be one of your last big games before you go off to college."

"It's just another game," he replied with a shrug. "He cheated on you and walked out on us. I don't see any reason to keep in contact with him."

"He is your father," she justified. "No matter what any of you do, that will never change. For what it's worth," her face lit up like a candle, the tone of her voice suddenly much lighter, "I certainly wouldn't mind seeing him again."

"Stockholm syndrome," Cab muttered under his breath. Gazing out to the sky, he considered her words. Sure, he was his father, but why did that matter? The man hadn't done anything fatherly for him since he was 10. It had been longer than he could remember since he had received any letters from him, the ones that used to ask him how he was doing in school or when his next game was, worded so eloquently that he always assumed that his mistress had written them out of pity. The crescent moon peeked out from the trees, the sun barely visible anymore. He pulled away from his mother's embrace and stood up. "Come on, let's start heading back. It's getting late."

She nodded and pushed off from the ground as she attempted to stand up. Clumps of grass and dirt crumbled beneath her hands and descended off the cliff into the forest below. Having lost her balance, her body lurched forwards, carried by the force she had put in her hands. She threw her body back and tried to grab onto the ground, but it only collapsed under her weight. A panicked scream left her lips as she fell off the cliffside.

Cab outstretched both his and Quiet Riot's arm out in an attempt to catch her, but she had already fallen out of reach. A few seconds later, he heard a loud THUD! somewhere very far below him. He felt the color drain from his face.

"MOM!"

~~~~~

THREE MONTHS LATER...

"Martin..."

That was the only word that Cab's mother had uttered since she entered her coma, and it was the name of her ex husband.

Not once did she mutter Cab's name, and she barely responded to any input from him. Even after he stopped attending school and skipped out on all his other commitments just to be with her (to the chagrin of his teammates), the only reaction he got out of her were occasional eyelid twitches, her pupils shifting under them when he spoke to her. Even as he squeezed her hand in his through her full-body cast and tearfully babbled out "I love you, you're going to wake up soon, everything's going to be okay," on repeat for hours on end, she never said anything else aside from his father's name.

Cab didn't need to be a relationship expert to know that she was still in love with him, even if he had fallen out of love with her long ago. He couldn't see why; not only had he cheated on her, but he was rude, argumentative, and self-absorbed. Having him out of the house had only improved their lives. Gone were the noise complaints from neighbors when he would scream at them just to show off how loud his voice was, the disdained grumbles when he overheard Cab listening to his favorite songs on the radio, and the long nights of his mother sobbing herself to sleep when he spent the night at another woman's house. The day that he packed his bags and left was one of the best days of Cab's life.

Yet, as she fell closer and closer to death's door, she called out the name of her emotionally abusive ex-husband and not her baby boy.

She didn't have much time left—the way that her doctors always avoided eye contact with him told him that much. The turning point came when one of them tapped him on the shoulder and said: "don't get your hopes up," on their way out the door. The doctor kept his eyes focused ahead of him, rather than on the grieving son below.

If she really wanted her last moments to be with him, then so be it. So it was how Cab found himself in front of his father's home.

It was a dingy place, really. One story with a flat roof covered in leaves, a bland gray paint job that had begun to chip off, the garden so overgrown that Cab couldn't see his own feet as he walked to the door. Surely this couldn't be the address of his prideful father. He double checked the address. Had he really spent months digging through phone books and real estate listings just to get the wrong address?

No. There couldn't be two idiots named Martin Cavazo. Not to mention the orange Pontiac Firebird, his pride and joy, that was parked in the driveway.

Cab pounded on the door. "Hey, Martin! It's me, Cab. You know, your son? I need to talk to you about something."

The door creaked open under the force of Cab's fists. Whatever obscenity he had lined up to say caught in his throat. Why had the door been left unlocked? Martin was a lot of things, but forgetful wasn't one of them. Cab vividly remembered being scolded by him whenever he failed to unlock the door after coming home from school. As eager as he was to add "hypocrite" to his father's long list of toxic traits, he proceeded through the door, closing it behind him.

Though he wasn't sure what he was expecting from the inside of the house, it certainly wasn't this. It somehow looked smaller on the inside than it did on the outside. Only a dirty kitchen with flies hovering over half-eaten plates of steak to the left; a living room in the middle with only a broken recliner, bulky CRT, and numerous empty beer bottles strewn about the floor; and a couple of doors to the left. One was halfway open and lead to the bathroom, while the other Cab assumed went to the bedroom. Dust hung in the air like pollen in spring, coating just about every surface in the house. It nearly made him cough up is lungs as he entered the house. There was also something to the left that reeked worse than anything Cab had ever smelled before. He would've assumed that it was coming from the bathroom, but whatever it smelled like, it didn't smell like feces. Perhaps a dead rat had gotten stuck in the plumbing?

Obviously, the house looked abandoned, or at the very least like it had not been maintained in a long time. Cab's shoulders fell at the prospect of another dead end. No way in hell he'd leave his house like this, he reasoned as he walked forwards, dust rising from the floor with every step he took, he must've skipped on the bills and had no choice but to jump ship. But if that were the case, why would he leave the Firebird out in the driveway?

Since the house was so small, Cab figured that he could gleam just about everything about the kitchen and living room just from his initial impressions of them. They were filthy and cluttered with trash, but he doubted that he could find any clues under piles of beer bottles and dirty dishes. He turned to the left and surveyed the two doors in front of him. The door to the bathroom was slightly ajar, and through it he couldn't see anything peculiar. Just a sink with an old shaving razor resting on the countertop and the edge of a toilet. There was still the smell, however, and if there really was a dead rat or something similar clogging the drains, he'd rather investigate it as a last resort.

The second door, however, was firmly shut, revealing no details about the bedroom. That was probably the best place to start his search. Hell, maybe Martin was passed out drunk on the bed, too lazy to get off his ass and maintain the house on his own now that he didn't have a woman to do it for him. Cab gently opened the door.

"Dad, are you in—"

The last thing he remembered seeing before fainting was Martin's limp body laying on the bed with a bloody crevasse in place of a head and a shotgun in his lap.

~~~~~

Cab hadn't remembered how much time had passed since that day. He could still see his father's decaying corpse in his mind's eye like it was still in front of him.

Even after what must've been more than a year now, the turn of events felt surreal. First his mother fell off a cliff and fell into a coma, then he quashed his opportunities at a college scholarship by wasting three months of his life trying to track down his ghost of a father, only to find his actual dead body and to be told not long afterwards that his mother had passed while he was away. Despite legally being an adult at that point, Uncle Roger had offered to look after him until he could get back on his feet. Cab didn't even know if he was still there or not. He never left his room long enough to find out.

How could something so horrible happen to a kid like him?

That was all he could think about since that day. Could this be some sort of cruel punishment? Some justice for an evil deed he had committed? But what, Cab wondered, have I done that could possibly deserve this? His entire life played through his mind at a snail's pace. There was that time when he was five when he pulled down his neighbor's pants at the park. There was the time when he was nine when he made fun of his substitute health teacher so badly that she nearly threw her shoe at him. There was the time when he was fifteen and stole the car one night to go to a party then wrecked it on the way home. And of course, that said nothing of the countless other boys he had Quiet Riot demolish in the ring. Was all of that combined really the equivalent to watching his mother fall to her doom and walking in on his father's suicide?

No, he realized, that can't be it. There are men out there much eviler than I am who haven't endured half the amount of pain that I have.

Then what? Was it just bad luck? Some malevolent God out there who deemed him to be a worthy punching bag? He scoffed at what his mother told him: "you're destined for great things, Cab." Like what destiny had ended up giving him was some great reward.

You're wrong, Mom. He stood up and opened the window, letting the crisp outside air blow against his face. This wasn't my destiny. This wasn't anyone's destiny. We chose to go hiking on that trail that day. Dad chose to kill himself. There isn't any outside force controlling us. We're all victims of our own free will.

After all, how could fate be real when it had dealt him such a bad hand?

He stared at his reflection in the window. Heavy bags weighed his eyes down, matted curls hung over his face, his once bold muscles nearly deflated. He hardly recognized himself. If "destiny" was so keen to make him this way, then why should he bend over and take it?

I'm choosing to be miserable, he decided. Without a second thought, he set his shoulders back and fully opened his eyes. Not anymore. I'm going to find myself.

The next morning, he packed his bags and left, determined to do just that.

~~~~~

IN THE PRESENT...

I remember that she was a little confused as to why I didn't tell her for so long, but other than that she was happy that I had a Stand of my own.

Among the waterfall of bullshit about curses and fate that spilled from her mouth the day before, that was the one line from Michelle's monologue that Cab connected to. She had the guts to tell her mother about her Stand, despite the fact that her mother wasn't a Stand user. Now Cab could only dream about having the same opportunity. No matter how much he told himself that it's different, her dad was a Stand user too, it didn't change the regret that simmered in his heart as the sentence played over and over again in his head like a broken record.

Staring at her now, as she begrudgingly played tour guide to Sara on their way to Paris' border, he couldn't help but feel jealous.

"Hey, Michelle." He meant to address her more delicately, but it came out as more of a statement than anything.

Jaw clenched after hearing the assertiveness in his voice, she turned her head to him.

"What was it like to have a mom who knew you were a Stand user?"

Michelle furrowed her brow at the question and studied his face like a map. "Why do you ask?"

He bit his lip and rubbed the back of his neck. "No particular reason."

[lynnsfics]

Coffee Stained Confusion Ch 14

<Last Chapter                           First Chapter                               Next Chapter> ~~~

Walking into the tower’s training center, you took one look around the room and immediately died a little. The equipment was state of the art, and although you hadn’t expected anything less from the billionaire, it was still incredibly daunting. 

Natasha stood in the center of the room, looking right at home. ‘In some other life she probably could have done an extreme sport,’ you thought to yourself. The image of Black Widow competing on Wipeout popped into your head and you had to stifle a laugh. 

“Well, I‘m glad you two were able to make it to the gym so early,” she said sarcastically, then noticing the slight chocolate smear on your cheek she questioned, “leisurely morning?” 

You blushed and tried to get it, but kept missing it slightly. Without thinking Bucky wiped it off for you. Natasha raised her eyebrows at the gesture but said nothing. 

“So I looked into it and found out your college had a gym, how often did you use it?”

“Wait we had a gym?” 

“So I’ll take that as a ‘never’,” she replied with a smirk. “Your powers can do alot of things, and are great for battle, but if you’re ever in a situation where you can’t safely use them, you have to be able to fight your way out. Do you know how to fight?” “Well, I picked a few things up in some of my old foster homes,” you briefly made eye contact with Bucky before continuing, “considering most of them were secretly HYDRA operatives, you could say I didn’t always have the best experience.” 

“Alright, show me what you’ve got.” She motioned you to step forward, and you did. What you didn’t expect however, was for her to swing at you the moment you did. Dodging it at the last second, she looked at you and said, “Rule number one, always expect the enemy to fight dirty.”

“Especially when that enemy is an ex-Soviet spy trying to teach you how to fight,” Bucky said with a laugh. 

“Very funny Barnes,” she responded. As soon as the words left her mouth a punch was delivered right to your ribs. “Rule number two, don’t let anything, or anyone,” she glanced at Bucky, “distract you.”

Groaning in pain you cursed, “What the hell, did you two have that planned out?”

“Maybe,” Bucky responded with a laugh, “but at least now you’ve learned that lesson.”

“Now it’s time for the real training to begin,” Natasha stated matter-of-factly. You only sighed in response.

By the time your training session was over, you felt about ready to collapse. Bucky had to leave about halfway through and left you in the care of Nat, if care was what you wanted to call it. For some strange reason though, you were glad he wasn’t there to see how badly it went at the end. 

“Hey, take it easy on yourself. Not everyone is able to make it through even ten minutes of that training, let alone almost a whole hour.” 

“Maybe not everyone can, but all the Avengers can, and they can do it without almost dying in the process.” 

“Yes,” Natasha countered, “but we’ve all been trained, or some of us have, as Thor calls it, ‘natural talent.’ You, on the other hand, are a college student who hasn't worked out in what, almost two years? I can’t help but wonder if HYDRA gave you some of that ‘natural talent’ that Steve and Bucky have.” 

“Are you talking about superserum? No, I doubt that’s possible, I’d feel different, wouldn’t I?”

“Nobody knew Bucky was a super soldier until he fell from the train, not even himself. I think it’s worth considering the possibility, especially if they wanted you to be their new ‘soldat’.” 

You thought about it for a moment, not completely ruling out the possibility, but still not ready to accept it. “Well, you might be right, but I’m still not convinced.” “Only time will tell it seems. Now one thing that I am curious about is that little moment earlier.” 

“What moment?” Your mind reeled as you tried to recall everything that happened since you walked into the gym.

“Oh come on, that moment you had with Barnes earlier?” You blushed as the memory came back to you. “Oh, yeah, that. It was nothing, really.” “Oh, really?” Natasha asked incredulously. “In all my time knowing him, I’ve never seen him act so openly around anyone like he did just then. You two must have really hit it off.” “Well, I guess after everything we’ve been through together we became pretty good friends.” You looked over at the door as it swung open and Tony walked in.

“‘Friends’ is one word for it,” Natasha replied with a smirk. “Well, look who’s at the gym for once. Lose your way going to the garage?” She said with a laugh.

“Oh very funny, but some of us are able to fight without constantly working out Miss Trained Assassin. Hot head, you’re needed upstairs. There’s a potential lead Barnes needs to brief you about.” 

Natasha nodded at you as you left the room “Good job today, rookie.” 

Walking back towards the conference room your mind was a flurry of activity. What if Nat was right and you had been given super serum? Was it permanent? If it was, what would happen to your life? It clearly happened recently, if you had superhuman powers your whole life you would have noticed. Right? 

The door was ajar as you approached, and you heard whispered voices coming from the conference room. Holding your breath, you stayed close to the wall trying to overhear the conversation going on inside. 

“I know you think this could be planted information, Director Fury, which is why I think you should send some agents to scope it out first. She isn’t ready yet.”

“Sergeant Barnes, you yourself said that she excelled in her training today. My agents, although very good at retrieving information, cannot summon fire from their hands to protect themselves. If HYDRA detects a leak-”

“You think I don’t know the torture methods they’re capable of?” Bucky retorted, his tone threatening. “I know what they can do, and so do you. So if you think I’m going to let you send her back into harm’s way, when you have others who are fully capable of doing the job, you’re wrong.” “You are not in a position to tell me who I can ‘let’ do something.” Fury countered. “Do not let your emotions cloud your judgement. Having a schoolyard crush doesn’t give you the right to dictate missions to me. She is the best prepared for this, having known the target for a considerable length of time. If it would make you feel better, you can accompany her to the base. End of discussion.” 

The sound of advancing footsteps on the tile flooring scared you out of your spot, so you quietly tiptoed down the hall as fast as you could, then turned around to make it seem as though you were just arriving. As you re-entered the corridor leading to the conference room, Director Fury exited the room and started walking towards you. 

“Ah, Miss 'Phoenix’, just the person I wanted to see.” For a moment your blood ran cold as you wondered if he knew you listened in on the conversation. Your fears were eased, however, as he continued. “I was hoping that you would be the one to investigate the possible HYDRA facility Barnes mentioned earlier. I feel as though someone with your close history to the target would have an easier time apprehending her. Again.” 

“I don’t know if that makes me qualified enough for this assignment, sir.” Trying to sound oblivious to the conversation, you then added, “I don’t think that going alone would be the best option.”

“Sergeant Barnes would accompany you to this base. It’s a hub of HYDRA activity. I should warn you, however, some of my sources scouted the place from a far, and it could very well be a trap.” “Could I have some time to think it over? This doesn’t seem like a decision I should make lightly.” “Of course, just don’t speak about it with Barnes. Something tells me he isn’t exactly thrilled with the idea, and I don’t need him causing any additional problems for this mission.” “Yes, sir,” you nodded, hoping you would gain his trust.

He took a card out of his wallet and handed it to you. “When you reach a decision, give me a call.” You reached for the card but before you could grab it he pulled it back. “Do not give anyone else this card, I don’t give everyone my personal number.” He then extended his business card again and let you take it this time. As he turned and walked away, you started back on your path to the conference room. You had to talk to Bucky.

When you re-entered the conference room, you had to double check that you were in the right place. The room seemed much more spacious now that a dozen superheroes weren’t seated at the table in the center of the room. Natural light glinted off the glass tabletop, and modern art, most likely curated by Pepper Potts, hung from the walls. 

Bucky sat in an overstuffed armchair in the far corner of the room, staring at a painting, oblivious to you walking in. He looked conflicted, and your mind darted back to the argument you overheard. Just how much of it had you missed? 

You cleared your throat and he looked up. “Oh, hey doll. Sorry, I must not have heard you walk in. I was a bit lost in my thoughts,” he said with a smile. 

“I just talked with Director Fury,” you said, walking over and taking a seat on the armchair next to his. “He said that the mission might be a setup.”

“It very well might be, and that’s why it might be the wisest thing for you to go. You haven’t been training for that long, and if you got hurt or if they captured you again, I don’t know,” he trailed off and you couldn’t capture the end of his sentence. Still yet, you countered, “I have extraordinary powers, and I know Alicia better than any operative SHIELD has. I can’t let good people risk their lives in my place. I heard your, uh, conversation with Fury. I know you don’t think it’s wise, but it’s what I have to do.” “How did I know you would say that? Alright, fine, but if you do go, I’m going with you. No objections.” You smiled, “Deal.”

“And,” he continued, “you need to train with your powers first. I know that you know how to use them, but you need to practice some more. I don’t want you getting hurt. Deal?” “Alright, fine,” you sighed, “we have a deal.” You took out your phone and dialed the number Fury gave you. “Hello Director Fury, I’ve decided to accept the mission.” 

~~~

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@sydneyisnotawriter

I really do be adding more romantic subtext though :0 Like always, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Love you all <3

[sserpente]

Synopsis: Thanos’ cruel attempt to wipe out half of the universe failed and the titan is dead; but his actions came with grave consequences. Tears and cracks in the universe, all across space and time formed wormholes within the nine realms and beyond, giving old enemies a vicious opportunity to strike again. When the Jötuns invade Earth and the Avengers assemble to defend the planet once again, it is the help of none other than the former war criminal Loki they are reliant upon to drive the icy warriors back to their own realm. But then the God of Mischief encounters a young woman abandoned in the cold—your body mangled and altered with Jötun blood, a lab rat to the Frost Giants. He decides to take you with him and nurse you back to health, unable to comprehend the confusing affection he begins to harbour for you.

A/N: The synopsis partially sounds like a Doctor Who episode. *giggles* Here goes another (pretty dark) story I have been meaning to write, based on a dream I had once. It was supposed to be a Oneshot but as previously announced I wanted to do so much more with it so I simply kept writing. Have fun reading, my lovelies!

Warnings for this story: mentions of rape, mentions of torture, mentions of ill parent, mentions of emotional/physical abuse, abduction, slavery, (sexual) submission, injuries, blood, smut

Available on AO3!

Chapter 1

The digital map Tony had programmed spread over the entire table, mountains, hills and buildings towering up to the ceiling where they flickered slightly. White dots covered the spots in question, marking the places they had already taken, its people in great danger. There were too many of them—and it was enough reason to be concerned.

Steve Roger’s coffee had gone cold. He scratched his chin with a deepening frown, flicking through the many pages of his briefing pack as he sat at the table. There he had been, killing time, frustration and energy in the gym, thinking it was all over, that his days in the compound were numbered.

“How could this even happen?” Eventually, he lifted his head to come to terms with his new reality. Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff, James Rhodes, Stephen Strange. They were all here, back and united again to face a new threat, a new foe to protect this world from.

“When Thanos meddled with the universe, he manipulated space and time repeatedly before we could overpower him. He… seemed to have caused wormholes that messed with all path ways across the universe. The Frost Giants must have found one of them… and learned quickly how to make use of them.” Stephen replied. His fingers were fondling one of his gloves as he let his gaze roam over the map once more all the while his red cape attempted to struggle free from where he was sitting on it. They had all ceased to pay any attention to it by now—not after everything they had seen and witnessed.

The Jötuns had already invaded and successfully taken Greenland and quite recently Iceland, building their strength where cold weather and icy conditions would make drowning an entire civilisation in blood, ice and fear even easier. Nature had already submitted to the cruel race… the people… not so much.

Iceland had managed to send a distress call before the Frost Giants took over, a distress call which had landed right in Tony Stark’s office. Nick Fury and SHIELD had been informed, the Avengers had assembled yet again.

Soon, they would all be back on the battlefield now, a well-deserved retirement postponed. At least, so they knew, what they did was for the good of humanity.

“Tell Thor to move his ass here at once,” the billionaire tossed in darkly when the room drowned in silence. “He’s dealt with these ice cubes before.”

Doctor Strange nodded, clearing his throat as he stood. It would have been only a matter of time for him to contact the God of Thunder anyway. Besides, he understood the gravity of the threats unfolding up in the North. Quickly, his fingers drew complex patterns into the air, sending orange sparks flying through the room. Then, he stepped through. The portal snapped shut behind him quickly.

Bucky groaned, burying his face in his sleeves. “Do we ever get a break?” He complained loudly. Steve only shrugged. His comment was meant to lighten the mood. Truthfully, it did not even work on himself.

Thor had settled down in Norway, along with what was left of the Asgardian population. Ruling as their king, he had helped choosing an abandoned and quiet patch of land to grow a new civilisation far away from humans—the very place Odin had chosen for his last destination. Charms and modern technology, developed by the most sophisticated scientists of Asgard hid the village reliably from curious mortals and it was peace and compromise that made their presence on Earth possible.

Unless you knew how to enter this place, it would be hidden from your view like an invisible blanket wrapped around the entire village.

Naturally, Thor had taken all the credit, yet it was him, Loki, who had aided the Asgardians with his ancient knowledge—seidr which no other than Frigga herself had taught him. He had sacrificed his own life in a brave attempt to save the universe from the one being that had tormented him for years, making him compliant for his causes. He was a saviour, a hero and still… no one was willing to acknowledge him. Einherjars and few citizens respected him solely because of his royal status, nothing had changed about that. Others were still disgusted by having a Frost Giant living among them, a god who had attempted to invade and rule another realm because of an alleged lust for power—and one who had imitated the Allfather himself when all he had wanted was to protect himself from Thanos.

After a long-awaited while, his own brother, at the very least, had begun to appreciate his actions and efforts. He knew that Thor would never fully comprehend his self, just like he knew that no one else ever would either. Not since his mother died.

Sighing, he stood, abandoning the small trinket he had been tossing in the air repeatedly, and made his way to the make-shift throne room. He could hear the Asgardians mutter and whisper to themselves, discussing Thor’s unexpected visitor quietly.

Loki raised his eyebrows. Visitor? Well, he might not be king but any royal matters were still his business too. He was the prince of Asgard, after all.

“That’s impossible. The Frost Giants are trapped in their own realm, the source of their power was taken from them by my father centuries ago!” Not just taken. When Asgard was destroyed during Ragnarok, the casket of Ancient Winters had vaporised along with it. Thor was furious. Gnashing his teeth, he paced up and down the room with clenched fists.

Ah, Frost Giants. Loki’s face distorted for just a split second. Old family, old acquaintances, old heritage—nothing to be proud of, nothing to be gained from ruling a cold and dead realm inhabited by monstrous warriors who longed to drown the nine worlds in ice. They were not his favourite enemies to deal with. But he was a hero now, was he not? Another chance to prove himself, if not for his own self-satisfactory needs.

“And yet they are here, Thor.” Doctor Strange replied calmly. “We must drive them back to their own realm before they do any permanent damage to our planet.” He relinquished adding that this ship had already sailed. The universe had only just risen again, the cracks and tears visible and hazardous proof of its last destructive battle.

The God of Thunder took a deep breath, pondering over what would be the best actions to take. He eyed his visitor as if he were the reason for this new-found misery. He had not yet forgotten his last encounter with the Jötuns, back when he had lusted for battles, war and bloodshed. The smug, self-indulgent and arrogant part of him was still lurking within him, so Loki knew. Jane had brought out the best in him and when she left him for good, he had, partially, begun to fall back into old patterns.

“If they have taken Greenland and Iceland, Norway might be next.” He finally said matter-of-factly. “We need to do something now.”

Doctor Strange nodded unfazed.

“Take us back to the compound. I’ll find a way to stop them and if it’s the last thing I do…” He roared.

But Stephen overheard his courageous promise. He raised an eyebrow, already expecting what would follow when he considered his words. He had hoped the God of Thunder would leave his mischievous adopted brother in Norway, far away from where he could cause any trouble.

“Us?” He still probed.

“I know what you’re thinking, wizard. But Loki is a Frost Giant himself, I will need his help. He is my brother. He died for me not long ago.” Loki pursed his lips. Yes, I am your brother, Thor. He was a fool for thinking he, Loki, had ever stopped loving him even after everything they had been through together. Trust was a dangerous feeling, he could tell Thor would never fully grant it to him—but neither would he. They were fine as they were right now. Loki would be satisfied if this was all he would ever get out of their brotherly relationship.

Doctor Strange sighed, causing him to roll his eyes. “Fine… but if he puts one toe out of line, I’ll—“

“You will what?” The God of Mischief hissed, lifting his chin proudly as stepped out of his hiding place and entered the room.

Thor breathed out audibly. Clearly, he had overheard the entire conversation, there was no need to ask; but unlike his brother, Loki already had a plan.

A/N: Here we go! Obviously, Loki is the real hero here... he always has been, no? ;-) If you enjoyed this chapter, would you consider buying me a coffee for the next? I’d appreciate your support so much! kofi.com/sserpente (or hit the ‘Support me’ button on my blog!)

[ashleyspinelliburnbook]

S1E3: Jinxed/Officer Mikey

Two very different episodes today, both about the power of friendship (and some other stuff). Let’s dive in.

Jinxed

Before I begin in earnest, I just have to say OH MY GOD that kid getting bitten by the lizard at the beginning and screaming “My nose!” over and over is one of my lifelong “line from media” earworms that I haven’t been able to pinpoint the source of until now!!!

Anyway. We start our adventure by learning about the “kids unwritten code of honor,” which Gus is expressing an interest in breaking because he’s unhappy he got a harmonica in a trade for his lizard. Reneging on the trade, the gang explains, would be a violation of the code, which includes things like never cutting in line and always holding your breath when you go past a cemetery. It’s very important, Gretchen explains, because it separates the kids from the adults.

Enter... THE ASHLEYS.

(L - R: Ashley A., Ashley T., Ashley Q., Ashley B.)

They’re bored, see, so when Ashley A. — who has just overheard Gus’ harmonica troubles — comes over with a scandalous idea, they just have to do it. It’s a dastardly idea: swipe Gus’ harmonica.

But it gets even darker than that when the girls establish that all Gus wants his his harmonica back, so when he says, “It’s my harmonica,” all four Ashleys join him on “harmonica,” and then say, “Jinx!”

(What are the rules around several people jinxing the same person at once? What if one of them calls “jinx” after that? Or if the target is the same, does that all cancel out? It’s probably in the code.)

So anyway, Gus can’t talk, which is a real shame. Because as I’ve learned in the first two recaps, Gus is the kind of kid who will absolutely stand up for himself, whether the gang is with him or not. To have him so viciously taken out of the game like this is a real tragedy.

He goes around the school trying to get someone, anyone, to unjinx him, trying hand motions and writing it out in the sand (which gets destroyed by an Ashley A.-orchestrated kindergartener stampede) before seeing a notebook on the steps and deciding to take it. Unfortunately, that notebook belongs to a sixth-grader, who immediately takes Gus to see King Bob.

King Bob punishes Gus for his insolence until Miss Finster arrives to break it up. When she can’t get Gus to talk, she takes him to Principal Prickly, who calls district headquarters.

Two cops show up along with a Freud-looking psychologist, who tries unsuccessfully to get Gus to talk. They don’t know his name — maybe they still think of him as New Kid — so it’s decided that the cops will take Gus “downtown” to make him talk.

As Gus is perp-walked out of the building (my god, this kid code thing runs deep), the gang overhears the Ashleys gleefully talking about what they’ve done and try to intercept their friend. But they can’t get through the masses that have gathered, all chanting “Quiet Boy, Quiet Boy, Quiet Boy.” It’s a really touching moment only disrupted by the fact that two district cops are taking a child out of school because he won’t talk oh my god

TJ, because that’s just who he is, notices the intercom is unmanned, and he delivers a succinct explanation to the student body: “Gus Griswald has been jinxed.”

“Well what do you know, another jinxed kid,” one cop says to the other. “That’s the third one this week!”

Gus is now known as “Jinx Boy,” his heroic act even more heroic now by his strict adherence to the code — which none of the kids now think might be a bad idea — and the episode ends as the gang jinxes the Ashleys on “Scandalous!”, which, yes.

“Scandalous” count: 5

Takeaway: It’s revealed that the district cops know about the kid code, so I wonder if school employees of a certain level know all about the kids’ secret rules on a deeper level than, say, Miss Finster and Principal Prickly (who, ironically, see the kids every day). Remember last episode, where the workers who came to tear down the jungle gym were sympathetic toward them even as Principal Prickly tried to paint their protest as a riot? There’s something afoot here!

Officer Mikey

Responsibility sucks.

A lot of kids grow up doing chores, sure; helping their parents around the house, cleaning their rooms, that kind of thing. The necessities. So the thing that really gets a kid amped, aside from, you know, kid stuff, is the opportunity to take on responsibility that they’ve chosen for themselves. Something like a sport or an instrument, as long as it hasn’t been forced upon them by a well-meaning parent (or less than well-meaning, because, boy, is there a spectrum there).

Until, well. The kid realizes that in order to get good at the sport or instrument, they have to practice it. And it might be fun, at first! A lot of kids push through the initial frustration of not being good at something right away, because once they’ve got the basics down, it can be fun. Practice isn’t a chore anymore, and going to games or recitals or auditions early in the morning now comes with the reward of seeing their hard work pay off. I, for one, went from thinking about quitting the flute in my first few months because I couldn’t get it to make a sound to getting a flute scholarship for college.

But it doesn’t always happen that way. Sometimes, kids realize that the idea of doing the thing was the fun part, and doing the thing itself is, well, just another responsibility. And that’s not to say it isn’t worth a try, but this process can also function as an early reality check for kids who think that creating their own destiny will always result in a good outcome. (Is that too deep? Was I just a really sad kid? Is this greater conclusion anything bordering relatable?)

Anyway, responsibility? It sucks!

All this is to say, this episode is pretty straightforward (aside from Spinelli being called out by the captain as a “jaywalking punk anarchist,” a label I cannot believe she disputes later in the episode).

Mikey wants to be a school safety ranger, but the captain doesn’t want him. Upon learning that there’s a statute in the safety ranger handbook wherein the captain’s decision can be overridden if two safety rangers sponsor a new recruit, the gang sets out bribing a chain of people to get those two safety rangers to sponsor Mikey: the rangers get to sing the national anthem at the weekly flag raising ceremony, as long as the office aide gets to carry Ashley A.’s books for her, as long as Ashley A.’s little sister (who has stolen her big sister’s diary) gets to sit in King Bob’s throne, as long as King Bob gets a real friend (in this case, a puppy). So, Mikey becomes a safety ranger...until later on his first day, when he reveals he’s quit because he didn’t like getting up early and missing breakfast. Now, he wants to be a jet pilot.

The gang is less than impressed, and so am I, quite frankly. But I get it.

Takeaway: Kids gonna kid. Let them.

[cryoculus]

Can you do angst? If not it's okay, but can you do a scenario with bokuto or tsukishima's long time friend developing feelings for them. But the guy is to focused on his current crush to notice his long time friend. But she wants to be a good friend so she sets up the guy and his crush, and nearly dies. But refuses to tell the guys why she almost died. Sorry if this is confusing for you to understand.

» Word Count: 3,475 words

It took a while for me to fill this in, sorry for that! I just hit a wall with how the near-death experience was gonna play out, but I managed to come up with it this way. Note: this has become Akaashi-centric, ‘cause the best way that I could convey the friend’s grief was through the eyes of someone as perceptive as Akaashi. GOD this is about 3,000+ words, so I put the rest under the cut!

EDIT: I realized that the request wasn’t specific to certain pronouns, and I FORGOT THAT while I was writing this, and subconsciously implied that the friend was female. Sorry!

Akaashi was not one to stick his nose in matters that didn’t involve his direct interference. It was a principle that he trained himself to uphold, since he observed too often that, when one person meddled in another’s business more than he needs, it comes back to bite him in the behind in the near future.

But sometimes…sometimes he convinces himself that inaction could be the worst of sins he can commit. 

His predicament began on the day he walked across the bridge that led to his neighborhood, when he didn’t have any volleyball practice. The sun was beginning to set, emitting a resplendent orange glow in the vast sky. At that moment, Akaashi was so caught up with the twilight in the West, that he barely noticed the figure emerging from the bottom of the concrete bridge. He did though.

“(Name)-san?” Akaashi stopped in his tracks, regarding his senpai, whose uniform was soaking wet, with a raised eyebrow. 

You snapped your head in his direction, panic filling your eyes. Scrambling to your feet, you acknowledged Akaashi’s presence with a curt bow. 

“A-Akaashi! What brings you here?” Your tone came a bit shaky, like you were hiding something from him. Akaashi wasn’t particularly curious, but he was concerned. You’re Bokuto’s best friend, after all.

“Did you…fall into the river, (Name)-san?” That’s what he could deduce from the situation – drenched uniform, scrapes on your legs and arms, and a slight shiver in your composure. 

“W-Wha – oh! No, no, no! You’ve got it wrong!” You raised your hands, denying his assumption. “I d-dropped my phone in the water, I came to, um, retrieve it…”

Akaashi retained his aloof expression, but he could somehow tell that you weren’t telling the truth. It was rare to see you like this. You’ve always been a cheery person, who never seemed to lose their glee. However, it wasn’t like him to press others for information, so he ended the curious exchange by saying, “Do tend to your cuts, (Name)-san. They might get infected.”

You chuckled, lightly knocking your fist on your temple. “I can’t believe my kouhai is telling me off for such a clumsy thing I did. Thanks.”

The two of you were headed in opposite directions. Akaashi was treading forward, while you were headed to where he came from. At the corner of his eye, when the two of you passed by the other, he could see the ivory-tinged lilies you held in a tight grip behind your back. 

When you finally passed him, Akaashi paused once more, looking back at your retreating form. Why had you picked the rare flowers that bloomed under this bridge, knowing it’d be a risk? He didn’t know. 

But he knew better than to meddle. 

“Yo, Bo!”

Akaashi’s ears perked up at the familiar voice. Morning practice had just finished, and everyone was beginning to fix their things for their first period. Bokuto, who was at the other side of the gym, greeted you with a high five.

“Ahh, you’re a lifesaver, (Name)!” His captain exclaimed, encasing you in a bone-crushing hug. “It looks exactly like the kind she wanted! I couldn’t find these anywhere! Where’d you get them?”

When you pushed the energetic spiker away, Akaashi could clearly see the lilies you picked from yesterday, the stems wrapped together with a pink ribbon, in Bokuto’s hands. 

You flipped your hair. “I got it from a reliable source at a steal price! The guy selling them thought I was cute, and gave me a discount~”

“Oho? As expected from the charismatic class rep!”

You crossed your arms. “Now make sure Saki-chan’s gonna like them or I might’ve wasted my charms for nothing.”

Bokuto hollered, fist bumping you. “You won’t be disappointed.”

It was always loud whenever you paid Bokuto visits during morning practice, and it grated on Akaashi’s nerves every time your loud voices intermingled in his ears. But somehow today, your grin didn’t quite reach your eyes, and your laughter sounded a little forced. It was a minimal shift in your usual behavior, but it was enough for him to notice. 

Still, even if was he the only one who saw the bright colored band-aids through your stockings, he knew better than to meddle. 

About a week later, he overheard the two of you talking amongst yourselves in the hallway just outside the gym. Not wanting to interrupt the conversation, Akaashi stayed behind the lockers in the corner hallway. 

“She liked them, (Name)! She really did!” He could hear Bokuto jumping about in excitement. 

You laughed. “Best lilies in town, I tell you.”

“Can I…uhm, get some more? I kinda promised that I’d give her some every week. I-I’ll even pay you!”

Silence followed for a while, but then a fit of giggles resounded in the walls. “Bo, you don’t have to. I told you that the seller has a huge crush on me, remember? He might just give me seventy percent off the next time. y’know?”

He huffed. “Alright, fine. Just make sure that guy doesn’t pull any funny moves with you, though! The moment he does anything perverted, tell me right away!”

“Sure thing, Bo! I’ll give it to you Friday morning.” 

After exchanging farewells, Akaashi could hear the double doors to the gym close shut. Footsteps, presumably yours, were getting closer, and he’s in a really compromising position –

“Akaashi?” You furrowed your eyebrows, eyeing his pressed up form on the lockers. You contemplated for a while, and for some reason he didn’t move an inch. “Were you eavesdropping?”

Shit. You noticed. 

He straightened himself out, clearing his throat. “I just did not want to interrupt, (Name)-san.”

You nodded warily, brushing past him without another word. But just as you were about to round another corner, you halted, and looked back at him. 

“Akaashi, would you do me a favor?” 

He slightly craned his head in confusion. “What is it?”

You offered him a sad smile, an expression that he thought he’d never see you make. “Could you…not tell Bo?”

He nodded, not wanting to be part of…whatever this is in the first place. After all, he knew better than to meddle. 

For the next few months, your presence after practice has been a staple every Friday morning. Everyone in the volleyball team has been accustomed to the presence of Bokuto’s best friend right after practice ended. However, the girl he was trying to woo was yet to make an appearance in the gym, which more or less baffled their teammates.

“Saki-chan’s really shy, but I’m helping her get through her social anxiety,” Bokuto smiled to himself. It was a rare sight for Akaashi to see his captain like this, soft spoken and not an owl on steroids. 

Almost everyone in Fukurodani heard of Ishikawa Saki, the third year that attempted to commit suicide on the school’s rooftop. Akaashi remembered the scene vividly. He was right behind Bokuto when he coaxed her out of her suicidal tendencies, after all. 

She was a bashful, but gentle girl. Akaashi would almost call her fragile, but with the way that Bokuto was supporting her now, she’s starting to get back up on her own feet. It was quite a love story, as some of the girls he passed by in the hallways said. Who knew that the loud, outgoing captain of the volleyball team would be the suicidal girl’s saving grace? 

If anything, Akaashi didn’t like to think of it that way. Bokuto didn’t save her. He only helped her to save herself, and maybe he managed to catch some feelings along the way. Akaashi would have approved of their budding union, but…

“Bo~” Your singsong voice rang in his ears. 

When Akaashi spared you a glance, you looked horrible. Of course, you were still the pretty class rep of 3-1 that everyone admired, but there was no doubt of your disheveled state. Your hair was escaping your loose pony tail, your eyes looked tired beyond comprehension, your uniform was unironed, the pleats of your skirt, rumpled (if he looked a little closer it looked damp, even), and you weren’t wearing your stockings. Your legs, which were bandaged all the way up to your thighs, were on full display. 

“What happened to you?” Bokuto ran over to you, grabbing you gently by the shoulders. “Why are your legs bandaged up?”

“Oh, this? This is nothing, Bo! I may have gotten into quite a scuffle with the guy selling these.” You feigned ignorance, handing your usual delivery with an unmatched smile. “He probably got mad that I won’t accept his confession.”

He scowled. “He did what?”

You laughed. “Bo, I was kidding! I got into an accident on my bike and might have fucked up my legs.” You forcibly placed the lilies in his hands. “I’m alright, okay? Stuff like this happens.”

Reluctantly, Bokuto accepted the flowers, twirling the stem in his hands. “If something worse happens to you, I won’t forgive myself, you know? I’m supposed to be your best friend…”

For a split second, Akaashi could see your lip quiver, something akin to despair shadowing your face. But it’s as gone as it came. Instead, you flashed him a small smile. “I know that more than anyone, Bo.” 

At this point, Akaashi was beginning to have second thoughts on his sentiments on meddling.

The next Friday, it was raining heavily. Classes were suspended because of the torrential downpour, but Akaashi’s mother didn’t have qualms with sending her son out in the rain for some errands. Of course, he complied. The market was just beyond the bridge. It wasn’t too bothersome a journey. 

So, he shrugged on a jacket, retrieved an umbrella, and headed out. The sky was so dark, he had a hard time convincing himself that it was only ten in the morning. The raindrops heavily tapped on his umbrella, forcing him to huddle himself under its cover so his clothes wouldn’t get too soaked. 

As he closed in on the bridge, he noticed the river rapidly flowing down the stream. It was always like this during particularly rainy days. The slightest drizzle would make the river wild.

However, at the far end, he could see a familiar backpack sitting idly on the sidewalk. That’s…

Akaashi’s eyes widened when he pieced everything together. He only saw you emerge from under the bridge once all those months ago, but hasn’t seen you again in the area ever since. You insisted for months that you got the flowers from some guy that apparently fancies you, but you had also told Akaashi not to tell Bokuto about what he witnessed that time. 

His discarded his umbrella, as he ran to the railing, craning his head as far as he could for any sign of you. The rain immediately soaked through his hair and clothes. When he was out of luck on this side, he switched to the other side, and –

The moment he saw the form of a girl with dirty bandages on her legs, lying face down on a slightly elevated island in the middle of the harsh stream, Akaashi peeled off his jacket and shirt, and dived in without a second thought. 

The stream was flowing to the direction where your unconscious form was lying, so he didn’t have to propel himself with much effort. When he got to the island, his sneakers almost sunk into the mud. Not paying it any mind, he kneeled down, lifting you up to rest your body against his own. 

“(Name)-san? Can you hear me?” He shouted through the loud rain, but you weren’t responding. He placed the back of his hand against the skin of your neck and it was hot to the touch. How long have you been out here?

He gathered you in his arms, as his eyes darted everywhere in search for a route back to the bridge. The stream was flowing against him now, and it would be hard enough for him to swim back on his own, but he had to get you to safety, too –

“Bo…?” You opened your eyes, but they had a glazed look on them. “Bo…I’ve got it…Y-You can give it to…Saki-chan later…” You lifted a trembling fist up to him, Akaashi took whatever you had in your hand in his. When he unfurled his fingers, he saw a white lily, whose petals were frayed and torn from the time you’ve spent protecting it from the rain. 

Something pierces through his chest, and shatters the composure he’s kept up all this time. It’s something he’s never felt before, but all he could do is cradle your feverish body in silence, as his tears mixed with the raindrops that fell on his face.

“Why are you doing this?” His voice cracked, fingers digging into the skin of your arms. “Why?!”

You already sustained an injury on your legs, you’ve been out here, passed out and running an incredibly high fever for God knows how long, you’ve got new cuts all over your arms, so…why? Why could you still find it in yourself to grin at him like it was nothing? Why do you sacrifice so much, go out of your way all the time, risk your own precious life…for the sake of his stupid, stupid captain, who was oblivious to your feelings for him? 

Still shaking, from the rain or from the fever, or from both, you raised your hand to cup Akaashi’s cheek. What were you seeing right now? He was curious, but for now, he’d tend to your fantasies for your sake. 

“It’s…‘cause I want you…to be happy.” A single tear rolled down your cheek. “I…love you, Bo.”

It took a while before you could go back to school, given your multiple injuries and the fact that you almost drowned in pursuit of the lilies you always gave to Bokuto. But that’s not what you told the school. You informed them that the injuries in your legs simply worsened and you had to be observed in the hospital at an indefinite amount of time. 

Akaashi was the only one who knew of what truly transpired. He was the one he brought you to the hospital when a few locals spotted the two of you after all. However, when your family arrived and thanked him ceaselessly for having saved your life, he took his leave. His presence wasn’t necessary, anyway. Or maybe he just couldn’t stomach the sight of you in your hospital bed, knowing that he could have prevented this all from happening should he have taken action earlier. He noticed everything, yet did nothing about it…

Bokuto was concerned, of course, but his head was too wrapped up in the fact that they were competing for the Spring High Nationals the following Monday after the incident, that he couldn’t bring himself to at least contact you about it.

However, when you did come back to school on the first Friday of December, you didn’t show up to their morning practice anymore. Akaashi should have gotten used to it by now, given that you were absent for at least two Fridays already. But when you texted him about your return today (you exchanged phone numbers at some point), he half-expected you to be up and running with some stupid white lilies in your hands, giving them to his dumbass captain to treat his girlfriend while being in the dark with everything you’ve been through thus far. 

If he was being honest with himself, he hated his captain right now. Akaashi, of all people, was expected to be the one who’d understand all of Bokuto’s behaviors and mannerisms the most, but witnessing firsthand what you went through, the thought of you sacrificing everything for the sake of his happiness… How could he be so God damn oblivious to all of it?

But then, before he let his blind rage consume him, Akaashi got a text message from you. 

meet me at the rooftop in five?

The cold air seeped through his clothes when Akaashi opened the door to the rooftop. Winter really has settled in in Tokyo. Rubbing his arms as a pathetic attempt of getting warm, he darted his eyes around for any sign of you, and saw your lonesome form standing by the metal fence. He made his way towards you.

“Hey,” you spoke without facing him, fingers gripping the fence. “Did you know that these were put up here after the incident with Saki-chan? It was to guarantee that no one was gonna pull any stunts like that here anymore.”

Akaashi nodded, gazing out at the view of the city. “Yes, I am aware.”

You hummed, and stood there in silence for a good while. Akaashi suddenly recalled that fateful day from what now seemed like a long time ago. The rain pelting his bare back, the smell of the soaked Earth under his knees, the constricting sensation in his throat, and the glassy look in your eyes, that suggested that you weren’t thinking clearly at the time. When he asked you if you remembered that you thought he was Bokuto, you drew no memory of it. He wasn’t sure if he should be glad or not.

“Akaashi, why’d you save me?” 

Ah, but you did remember that he’s the one who actually jumped into the river to save you. 

Akaashi exhaled, averting his gaze as far as he could from you because, frankly, even he didn’t know what drove him to strip his clothes and jump into the stream that day. He’s been doing a great job ignoring everything he took notice of with your strange behavior, minding his own business. Wait… You were dying, for God’s sake! If someone else was in his shoes that time, they would have done the same. It’s only natural that he’d go rescue you. And maybe…maybe he wouldn’t be able to live with himself knowing that he kept turning a blind eye to your suffering. 

A thousand thoughts swirl in his mind, but all he could bring himself to say is, “Because you’re important to Bokuto-san.” 

You laughed, turning to him. “Am I not important to you?”

He raised an eyebrow, making sure his face didn’t betray any discomposure. “Why would you ask me that, (Name)-san?”

You put a finger on your chin. “Hmm… I know you saw through all my lies, you know? I thought it was just a rumor that Fukurodani’s Akaashi Keiji could read the volleyball team’s enemies better than anyone, but to be able to apply that outside of a game?” A grin made its way on your lips. “You really are something, huh?”

“I don’t understand. What am I supposed to make of our conversation?” 

You scratched the back of your head, chuckling. “I don’t know either, actually. I just wanted to thank you properly.” You reached out from behind your back – he didn’t notice you were carrying anything – and handed him a lavender flower with two unfurled petals, like it was just beginning to bloom. Akaashi shot you a confused look, but accepted it, regardless.

“I did my research,” you imparted. “The lilies that I was picking for Bo…they’re referred to as the flower of death. Makes sense why Saki-chan would like them… Okay, bad joke, but yeah.” You mulled over your next words for a moment, cheeks beginning to tinge red. “This is an iris. They symbolize hope, or at least that’s what the internet wanted us to know.”

Akaashi examined the Iris in his hands, then turned to you. “Where’d you get it this time?”

His accusatory tone made you laugh, and this time it sounded genuine. “Oh, you think I jumped under a bridge to grab these again? Nah. I got it from the flower market downtown. The guy selling them probably likes me. Gave it to me for free~”

“Did he, now?” He couldn’t help it. His lips turned up into a small smile. “Why have you decided to give this to me, of all people, (Name)-san?”

“Oh, God, don’t ask me. It’s kinda corny.”

“Pray tell.”

“Fine.” You shifted your gaze back to the city skyline. “It’s ‘cause… You were the one who made me realize that Bo’s not the only guy in the world. In a way, you gave me hope that there’s someone else out there just waiting for me.” 

He contemplated for a moment, letting your words sink in, before saying, “You’re absolutely right. That was corny.”

An irk mark appeared on your head. “Hah? Who knew Akaashi Keiji, aloof second year setter of Fukurodani, could be a wise-ass, too?”

Then and there, Akaashi realized that he’s glad that he didn’t know better than to meddle, in the end.