#the puzzles the lessons come on... i want them so bad and yet you hate me so much

[crescentmp3]

playing chess while the zombie part from avm note blocks universe plays in my head is surely an experience.

[its-all-a-moonage-daydream]

i don’t really know what happened here but i found this in the deepest darkest depths of my docs so 🤷‍♀️ also don’t ask why i have a really annoying habit of writing in second person i’m too lazy to change it

(850 words)

you sigh as you finally hear the swoosh of the lock. you breathe out, and slump to the floor. cold tile against your head as you close your eyes, letting tears roll down your face. safe in the bathroom, locking out the world because it’s the only place you can. you need to get away from it all for once. it’s no one's fault nothing bad has happened, you just need to leave for a bit. take a break. change the environment and get away from people who know who you are. or think they do. because at this point you don’t even know if you know who you are anymore. the more you think about it the more you realise what a mismatched puzzle of little bits of everyone else. you get your music taste from your friends, favourite books from your mother, character traits from the book characters you adore. some people would say this isn’t a bad thing, it just shows you love so many people so fiercely you want your favourite bits for yourself. but you feel disgusted nonetheless. the way you didn’t like your personality well enough as it was and yet when you decided to mould it into something new you couldn’t even be arsed to be original. instead you stole and snatched and ripped away parts of other people and characters and forced them onto yourself. forcing two puzzle pieces to fit together when they shouldn’t. too young to understand what you were doing and yet old enough to know you needed change. you forced yourself to forego having opinions. what good did they do you anyway? instead you taught yourself to follow not lead, listen not talk. you learned to wait, to smile, to nod along. you memorised a list of favourite book, movie, song, tv show, celebrity, subject, hobby, colour, dog or cat, night or day, summer or winter, coffee or tea and every other daily opinion you were supposed to have. you created a false personality to hide your false personality. and yet you no longer have a real one. you don’t know who you are even though you can’t help but wear your heart on your sleeve. you can’t even live your fake personality right how are you supposed to own a real one. when you were 13 you fell in love. too bad they were gay fictional and dead. so instead you lived them. you made them your own even if that meant forcing yourself to hate life and everyone in it. you taught yourself hatred and loathing and to say things you didn’t mean because you needed so desperately to have this love. ironic really. you made yourself despise the one you needed to love. but that was years ago. surely by now you should have grown out of it, you know it was a fucking awful thing to do. you’ve learnt your lesson. so you should move on. it makes sense! and yet here you are a fucking mess and you can’t decipher what’s you and what’s remus fucking lupin or depressed_person68, you still force yourself to agree with every opinion, not by choice now but because you don’t know how not to. last time you had an opinion it became your entire personality for over a year. you are ‘that girl who likes the secret history’ and nothing more. people see you as dull and leave you alone. not that you mind that but it would be nicer if it wasn’t true. especially when you end up needing change so much it hurts. you need something big to happen so you have something else to focus on. you need to discover something about yourself that begins to pour light onto what you’re actually like. your real personality. but now it’s come and you’re back to square one. you can’t unpiece the puzzle you’ve made. you’ve poured glue on it for too long and now it’s set in stone. and although this isn’t always a problem, when you need to start evaluating yourself it makes it hard when there is no ‘self’. only a distorted mismatch of others. because now you need to decide if you’re just projecting or if you’re actually like this. if you need help or you want it. if you understand or you don’t. because now it affects other people. now you’re hurting more than just yourself and you need to get it fucking together. this is gonna get hard.

and yet here you are, still sitting in the bathroom, still staring at the same smudge on the wall. the tiles have gone warm and your legs have gone numb and you feel no sure. but now it’s sorted into piles and can be put away into a draw for another day. when you absolutely have to you can revisit this but now you have work to do and friends to talk to and a person to be. whether you know that person or not doesn’t matter. because you’ve got pretty good at being them, and that will do for now.

[bbangsoonie]

backdoor

member: jaehyun (hyunjae) genre: fluff (requested) word count: 3,120 synopsis: jaehyun has always been your rival. so when he bets that he could make you fall for him, you can’t back down and say no. but when you’re too confident, you let your guard done.

backdoor: a term used in league of legends; when you secretly attack the enemy’s nexus while they’re focused elsewhere. this is done by sneaking into the enemy base and taking them by surprise

Lee Jaehyun was the cockiest and most annoying person you had ever met. You would think that growing up as childhood “friends” would make you two close. After all, your parents were best friends with his parents.

But no, you and Jaehyun had been rivals ever since you were both enrolled into a tennis club as young children. You always had the upper hand until he suddenly hit puberty and became a lot more physically fit than you. Once he started beating you in nearly every match, he became your #1 enemy.

He had always been super competitive and made everything into a contest. Who could run to the car faster? Who could receive a higher score on the exam? Who could make the other lose their temper first?

With high school came his sudden increase in popularity. It inflamed his ego to the max, which irked you to no end.

Every Valentine’s Day, he would brag about all the gifts and confessions he received. And every White Day, he would compare the numbers to yours.

He was loved by the girls for being a casanova and admired by the guys for his athleticism and gaming skills.

You, on the other hand, could not comprehend why the entire school was infatuated with him. You had your eyes on someone else. Kim Sunwoo. He had caught your attention since the first day of freshman year. Now, as a senior, you were about to graduate without ever making a move.

You were too shy to approach him. You couldn’t even find a common interest to naturally bring up and talk about. All he ever did was make music and play League of Legends.

So you found Jacob during lunch and practically begged him to teach you how to play the game.

“Please please please?” you whined.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I can’t,” Jacob said apologetically. “I have basketball practice every day. Besides, I haven’t played in almost half a year. I’m rusty.”

“I just need you to teach me the basics!”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Sighing, you gave up and slumped in your seat. You poked at the food in front of you with a pout.

“Did I just hear the Y/n ask Jacob to teach her how to play League?” Jaehyun suddenly popped out of nowhere.

“Fuck off,” you rolled your eyes at him as you set your chopsticks down.

“You know, I’m the highest ranked player in our school,” he said smugly. You wanted nothing but to wipe that look off his face.

You ignored him and took a sip of your water. Jacob awkwardly glanced between you and Jaehyun as he tightly held onto his spoon. He could sense another argument coming.

“I can teach you if you want,” Jaehyun offered.

“I don’t want,” you coldly rejected.

“Of course you don’t,” he scoffed. “You’re too afraid to spend time with me because you might realize that you actually like me.”

“Oh please. There are a few things in this world that will never change. The sun rising from the east, the sun setting in the west, and my hatred for you,” you said.

“Well if you hate me that much, then let’s make a bet out of it. The first one to fall for the other’s seducing loses,” he smirked.

Still stuck in the middle, Jacob shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“You don’t have to accept the challenge if you’re not confident,” Jaehyun shrugged, making you narrow your eyes at him.

A list of pros and cons was being made in your head as you contemplated the crazy suggestion. The logical part of your mind wanted nothing to do with him. You knew that stooping down to his level was childish. You had much better things to do than go along with his bet.

The competitive part of you, however, couldn’t bear to back down. You would have to deal with him flaunting over you and calling you a coward if you didn’t agree to this.

So you disregarded all rationale and crossed your arms with a curt “deal”.

The walk to school the next day was full of complaints as you whined about falling for Jaehyun’s trick and Kevin chided you for it.

“I don’t know why you thought it would be a good idea,” Kevin tsk-ed. “He makes your blood boil within seconds. How are you going to hold back from tearing him apart? Never mind flirt with him.”

“I’m already regretting it,” you groaned.

“Speaking of the devil,” Jacob coughed, nudging you.

You looked up to see Jaehyun waiting by the school gates. He was holding a bouquet of flowers and every girl who passed by whispered to their friend about it. To everyone’s shock, he walked up to you and handed you the flowers.

“So it starts now?” you stared at the roses. “You call this seducing?”

“I call this romantic,” he grinned.

Rolling your eyes, you handed Kevin the bouquet and walked away. He awkwardly chased after you as Jacob offered Jaehyun a pat on the shoulder.

“She doesn’t like roses. She thinks they’re cliché,” he said before leaving.

When the dismissal bell rang, Jaehyun was waiting for you outside of your classroom. Hushed whispers erupted again as your classmates tried to figure out why he was being so affectionate to you. It was no secret that you two never got along.

After gathering your belongings, you grabbed your backpack and left without sparing him another glance. Unfazed, he easily caught up to you and slung his arm around your shoulder.

“What? Are you wavering already?” he teased.

“Not a chance,” you scoffed.

“As a part of the bet, I can teach you how to play League. That’s what you wanted anyway. Think of it as killing two birds with one stone.”

You ignored all the incredulous looks you received with Jaehyun by your side as you left the school grounds. You didn’t realize that you weren’t headed home until you stopped in front of a PC Room. Puzzled, you stared at the building in front of you.

“I promised that I’d teach you. Our first lesson starts today,” he said as he dragged you inside.

Your brain was bombarded with a whole new world. You struggled to keep up as he rambled on about bots and gold. He was showing you a demonstration by playing a round but your inability to multitask made it difficult to understand what was going on on the screen.

“My main is Jace and I usually go jungle,” he explained and you pretended to understand by nodding. At your silence, he eyed your expression and chuckled.

“So is Sunwoo the reason why you’re suddenly interested in League?” he asked, catching you off guard.

“How did you know?” you gaped.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice your little crush on him?” he raised a brow.

You were taken aback to say the least. You didn’t think he paid much attention to you other than when he was bored and wanted to mess around.

“Anyway, he usually goes mid as Zed,” he shrugged. “To be honest, the best way for you to bond with him through the game is for him to play ADC and for you to be support.”

“As if I know what all that means,” you frowned.

At that moment, his character died and the screen went gray. You snickered, earning a light flick on your forehead.

“ADC stands for attack damage carry. It’s the champion who usually does the most attacking. They go in the bottom lane with whoever’s playing support. Supports are supposed to aid and heal the ADC. So you would follow and communicate with them.”

“Sounds complicated,” your nose wrinkled in distaste.

“Sounds fun,” he corrected before turning back to the computer.

The next day, Jaehyun surprised you with a small potted plant in front of the gates.

“Since you don’t like roses, I got you a succulent instead,” he said proudly.

Next to you, Kevin giggled and Jacob let out a soft “aww”. Slightly touched yet also slightly embarrassed, you took it from him in a hurry and stormed off.

“You’re slowly getting there,” Jacob laughed as Kevin shot him a thumbs up.

Smiling, Jaehyun watched as they ran to catch up with you. He heard you yell at them after what was probably a teasing remark. You then began to chase Kevin, who ran away shrieking.

After two weeks of spending hours at the PC Room after school, you were starting to get a hang of the game. You found Teemo, who you insisted was a dog (he’s actually a rodent), and gushed over how cute he is.

Jaehyun made fun of your champion choice and shook his head as he explained that Teemo was the most hated character.

“Why? He’s adorable!” you defended. “And I love the little eggs he plants.”

“For the nth time, those are mushrooms! Not eggs,” he exclaimed. “And that’s exactly why everyone hates him. He’s so annoying.”

“You’re annoying,” you shot back.

“Well, Teemo’s not an option right now,” he pointed out.

He was teaching you how to play Howling Abyss that day. And playing ARAM meant your champion would be randomly given.

“Oh! The cute cat is available,” you excitedly clicked.

“That’s Yuumi and that’s actually not a bad choice,” he nodded in approval. “You just have to attach onto me and heal me.”

You hated to admit that you had grown closer with Jaehyun. Only a couple of weeks had passed by since the bet and you didn’t completely despise him anymore.

He gifted you something small each morning, whether it was a plant or piece of bread. He was always waiting for you at the gates. Dating rumors were already circulating the school but you hadn’t forgotten about the bet. You were determined to win it.

Which was why you began to wake up earlier to put on makeup and even complimented him during games. It was easy to make him smile. All you needed to do was throw a lame joke in here and there and he would burst out in laughter.

It was almost suspiciously easy. He was too willing to respond to your advances and never put up a wall.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t get on your nerves. His antics still bothered you to no end.

On the way home, he insisted on feeding you ice cream instead of having you hold it yourself. Except he kept pulling the spoon back when you opened your mouth to eat it.

The first time, you gave him a dirty look. The second time, you punched his arm. The third time, you gave him the finger and walked off after a “fuck you”.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” he laughed.

Once again, you were reminded of how immature he was.

“So has there been any progress?” Kevin asked.

It was gym period and all the students were running around in the field. Jacob was playing volleyball with Jaehyun while you and Kevin were sitting on the sidelines.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged.

“It would be the best enemies-to-lovers trope if you two actually end up dating like this,” he commented.

“Never,” you snorted in disbelief.

You had seen Jaehyun ever since he was a snotty little kid. Even back then, he was a mischievous brat. There was no way you could ever see him as anything but that.

The teacher blew his whistle, signaling the end of gym class. You got up, dusted your pants, and skipped down the steps. Unfortunately, you landed wrong and felt a sharp pain in your ankle as you fell down.

After Kevin shouted your name, Jaehyun turned his head to see you on the ground. Without thinking twice, he ran towards you and asked if you were okay. When you couldn’t reply, he put you on his back with Kevin’s help and sprinted to the nurse’s office.

Your heart was beating fast but you couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why. Was it because of the pain? Or all the attention you were receiving from your classmates?

By the time you reached the office, your ankle was throbbing and swelling up. The nurse was nowhere to be seen so Jaehyun retrieved an ice pack himself and wrapped a towel around it before applying it.

You were sitting on a cot while he was bent down to tend to your wound. His forehead was wrinkled with worry and you stared at him. This was the first time he had ever treated you with such gentleness.

“I don’t think you broke anything but it’s definitely gonna hurt for at least a week,” he winced in vicarious pain.

You suddenly didn’t know how to act around him. You weren’t used to receiving sympathy from him.

“Uh that’s okay,” you coughed to cover up the awkwardness. You’d rather have him make fun of you for being clumsy. But instead, he seemed genuinely concerned for you.

“You should’ve been more careful,” he scolded.

There was something about the way he looked at you. His eyes were no longer playful but you couldn’t figure out what emotions hid behind those eyes.

Those eyes. His eyes clouded your mind. For some reason, you couldn’t get it out of your head.

You found yourself avoiding him as you struggled to organize your thoughts. Or rather, your feelings.

Wanting to distract yourself, you decided to finally talk to Sunwoo. Surely, spending time with him would help you forget about Jaehyun.

So you mustered up the courage to ask him out on a date. To your surprise, he happily agreed and suggested that you watch a movie together. There was a new romcom film that came out and that he had been wanting to watch.

The date wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be. Sunwoo’s goofiness offset any nervousness and it was fun to be around him. But yet, it also wasn’t as heart fluttering as you thought it would be.

Perhaps you had idealized him too much in your imagination. Your romantic feelings for him dissipated and you saw him as a good friend. Luckily, he felt the same.

However, word about your date had already spread by the time you got to school on Monday. It had reached Jaehyun’s ears and his expression hardened when he saw you laughing with Sunwoo at lunch.

He knew what the ugly feeling in his stomach was. And he wasn’t happy about it. So he reacted in the only way he knew. By clinging to your side and pestering you.

He spent the whole day messing up your hair and being sarcastic. Eventually, you finally snapped and told him to piss off.

“I’ll consider it if you can beat me in tennis today,” he said.

You crossed your arms, wondering what was going on in his head. You hadn’t been able to defeat him since middle school.

“If you can get a single ball past me, I’ll leave you alone,” he proposed. With a huff, you reluctantly agreed. It would be faster to just get it over with.

That was how you two ended up at a tennis court after school. He never went easy on you but he was going especially hard that day. He gave you no breaks and flung the ball back at you with what felt like all his strength. Ball after ball flew past you as he grabbed another one to start again.

“What the hell, Lee Jaehyun?” you yelled across the court. “Why the fuck are you so aggressive today?”

“Are you giving up?” he taunted while bouncing the ball.

“Oh hell no,” you grumbled as you got in position.

Another half an hour passed by with him beating you again and again. You were drenched in sweat and starting to feel sore. But you refused to give him the pleasure of watching you admit defeat.

So you kept going until the ball accidentally hit your shoulder. The amount of force he put into that backhand made you yelp in pain as you dropped the racket.

Startled, Jaehyun ran over to make sure you were okay.

“You just can’t bear to see me win once, can you?” you glared as you shoved his hand away. “You turn everything into a competition and act like you’re superior over me.”

“I-I didn’t mean to do that,” his brows furrowed in guilt.

“Didn’t mean to do what? Make my childhood a living hell by ruining my favorite sport? Use my crush on Sunwoo to trick me into another stupid bet? Confuse me into thinking that you might actually not hate me?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then why are you so clingy?”

“Because I like you!”

His words brought upon silence. The tension in the air was thick as you both stared at each other.

“You’re so dense,” he sighed. “I wanted your attention, okay? But back then, I was a kid and didn’t know how to stay by your side without annoying the hell out of you. And then I didn’t know how to transition out of that.”

He fidgeted with a loose string on his shirt and took a deep breath before continuing.

“This stupid bet was supposed to change our relationship. I was supposed to show you that I’m not as bad as you think I am. That I’m a guy too. That I’ve been in love with you for a whole decade now.”

To say you were surprised would be a massive understatement. All your life, you had been sure that Jaehyun’s purpose in life was to irritate you. So when your heart began to skip around him, you cursed yourself for giving into the hormones that made you see him in a different light. You never thought that the feelings would be reciprocated.

“You don’t feel the same way? At all?” he carefully asked.

Your mouth opened but no words came out. You couldn’t find the right words to answer his question.

“You’re not saying no,” the corners of his lips curved up.

He took a step closer to you and held your cheeks. You felt your heart race at the proximity and froze.

“For confirmation?” his lips ghosted over yours. You barely managed to nod slightly before he closed the gap between you two.

As cheesy as it sounded, you felt sparks fly the moment you had your first kiss. By the time he pulled away, you felt your cheeks heat up.

“So I guess that means I won the bet before it even began,” you joked, making him laugh.

“Yes, yes you did,” he smiled as he hugged you.

[after-witch]

Baby Mine [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Baby Mine [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis:  The first time you laid eyes on your child, you knew: You had to get out. Set in the ‘White Picket Fence’-verse. 

For request: Something with Overhaul + the reader’s children and manipulation (I’m sorry I accidentally deleted the original message so I don’t remember the exacting wording!)

Word Count: 3328

notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome, abuse

From the instant you laid eyes on your daughter, the moment your gaze took in her fresh, wet skin and her small, blinking, uncomprehending eyes, you knew: you had to get the fuck away from Chisaki Kai.

The realization was instant, like a flash, peeling away years of manipulation and training and forced self-acceptance of your situation. Years of justifications and excuses that had wormed their way under your skin, forcing you to see the bright side, to see his side, and let yourself get wrapped up in its candy-coated, fluffy cotton bullshit--gone, ripped away with brutal, exacting force. All that was left was the stark realization, a single driving force shoving you forward: you and your daughter were going to get out.

That was four years ago.

Four years of agonizing pretending. Of forcing yourself to put back on the coat you'd worn before, the false version of yourself that loved him and accepted him and excused everything he ever did to you. It was hard. It was harder to pretend that you accepted this than to actually accept it, to indulge in his control. But every time your resolve weakened, it only took a glance at your child to remind you of why you couldn't just give in.

You had to get out, not for yourself, but for her. To give her a normal life. A life where she could be free, where she could have friends, where she could run outside and not be limited to the house or, if the weather was nice, the secure, high-fenced backyard that Kai had only built within the last year.

Four years of pretending. Four years of planning. And, most difficult of all, four years of waiting. Trust was not easily given by Chisaki Kai, even to the mother of his child.

So you waited.

You waited for Kai to move you two--no, three now--into a house, a real house; not in a populated suburb (another broken promise that you swallowed deep, deep down) but an offshoot of some protected compound in a remote area, where it could be secure and guarded. But what mattered is that its doors connected to the outside, not to some unknown underground bunker.  You could manage, if you were connected to the outside.

You waited for Kai to ease up on the restrictions that built up around you during your pregnancy, rules to keep you under a far more watchful eye, rules that made it harder to find a way out. Inches of trust, gradually earned, which made it possible for you to think concretely about escape.

You waited for your daughter to get old enough to run, old enough to survive without needing to be fed every few hours, old enough to know how to stay quiet when told. Watching her grow up only made you want to leave, more. She had a personality now. Stubborn but accepting when she knew she wouldn’t win; sweet in her own way, an unusual way, likely one that came from a lack of interaction with anyone but her parents and a handful of trusted Shie Hassaikai members.

It was one of those trusted members--you never have learned their name, a secret Kai (nor they) were willing to give--that would be your key to escape.

 They loved your daughter, too, in time. They were drawn in by her precociousness, her insistence on formalities and pleases and thank-yous. But it was her bubbliness and inherent interest in the world and people around her that made them decide to love her, too.Her big eyes and bubbling laugh when you two were allowed in the yard, sometimes under this member’s supervision. 

To your daughter’s delight, they didn’t simply watch you like the handful of others did; they joined in the fun. Just a few weeks ago, she’d convinced him to push her so high on the swing set that she’d gone all the way around--even your heart briefly froze until she’d emerged on the other side, cackling with delight, safe and sound.

They were loyal to Overhaul. Of that there was no doubt. Had they killed for him? Maimed? Tortured? You tried not to think about the things that were done in Overhaul’s name.

Yet they’d betrayed him, all for the sake of your daughter. Part of you feels bitter that they wouldn’t betray him for the sake of you--but then, what was that saying? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

It was with their help that you were finally able to secure that last necessary piece of the puzzle for your escape: getting out of the secured, monitored gate surrounding the house unnoticed. He told you in hushed, intense tones that he would be on watch duty the night of your escape, that he would take care of the other member assigned that night, and that all you had to do was get out the door at the agreed time with your bag, your daughter, and a good pair of walking shoes. He would drive you as far as he could, and then you two would run, run, run after that.

It was going to work. Your daughter was going to live her life, a real life, not one carefully constructed in captivity. What would you do first, once you were free? The thoughts sometimes made you so giddy that you pinched yourself to calm down. So close, so close to the finish line, and you must be vigilant.

Tonight. You and your daughter are going to leave tonight.

Your daughter is in her bed, tucked in safe and secure. Her eyes are already closed, and Kai is sitting at the edge of the mattress, as always, smoothing down her hair and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. You watch from the doorway with your arms casually crossed, a small, tired, end-of-the-night smile on your lips. It's all so normal, so domestic, isn't it.

"Good night," he says, so soft and sweet that, if you hadn't been pulled out of your deluded coping mechanism, you might find it endearing. Instead, your thoughts scream: This will be the last time you ever see her, you fucked up piece of shit bastard. Oh, do you have a potty mouth when your 'husband' can't hear you...

He leaves your daughter to her dreams and clicks off the little lamp on her nightstand. When he crosses the doorway, you make room and he lets you slide your arm around his, linking yourselves together for the walk to your shared bedroom.

"Tired?" He asks, and you nod. You are tired. Not for the reasons he thinks, and not for the reasons you'll give, but the telltale darkness under your eyes belies the stress of planning your escape from a years-long ordeal.

You sigh, as soft and sweet as his voice was earlier. "Mmhmm. She didn't want to focus on her lessons today. I got a bit frustrated. Sometimes I don't think I'm cut out to be a teacher." By now you're in your bedroom and you casually take off your day clothes, dropping them in the labeled hamper in front of the closet. Your stomach twinges with the memory of how he used to look away when you took off your clothes.

But that was long ago, and now he continues the conversation casually as the pair of you strip and change into your respective pajamas. You slip a pink nightie with ruffled bottom over your head as he

"You just need more practice. Are you reading the lesson books before you start class?"

I wouldn't have to read any lesson books if you let her out of this house, if you let her out of school, if you weren't--you stop your thoughts, afraid that they might show on your face. Afraid that you might lose everything at this last, crucial moment.

But you know you look frustrated, so you roll with it. "Yes," you say, voice just the right amount of annoyed in retort. "But if she doesn't want to sit down and focus, me reading the lesson beforehand isn't really going to help, is it?"

He stares at you, and you wonder in a flash if you went too far. But in the next moment, he's simply continuing to button up his shirt. "Is it going to help our daughter learn if you take out your bad day on your husband?" His voice is dripping with the natural condescension that once had you questioning whether or not it was okay to be upset that he'd kidnapped you, and you hate it. But at least it's a sign that he bought your excuses.

You feel a warm flush of shame at the way his condescension still makes you feel less-than. You slide yourself into bed, under the covers, instinctively grabbing the book on your end table and staring down into it like you could simply disappear inside the pages. You can't mess up anything right now. The weight of what you need to do tonight feels so heavy and you can't stop your hands from trembling slightly.

"Sorry," you whisper, voice thick with emotion. "It's just hard sometimes. I feel in over my head."

It's Kai's turn to slide under the covers, though he doesn't bother grabbing his own book. Instead he gently pushes on your hands until you set the book on the covers. You know he wants you to look at him, so you do. He looks so gentle, so calm. Did he kill anyone today? Did he insult some hapless victim who crossed his organization, spewing venom with his words, before kissing your daughter goodnight hours later?

His gloved hands tip your chin up and it's a familiar feeling, an intimate feeling, when he pulls you in for a kiss. When he pulls away, he's smiling softly, indulgently. You aren't in trouble. You're good.

"I'll come home for lessons tomorrow and see what I can do. Would you like that?"

I'd like you to drop dead and make this easier on us, you think.

"Yes, Kai."

You smile. You nod. You let out a shaky sigh and lean your shoulders against his, picking up your book and signaling an end to the crisis. He lets you read quietly for a while before turning off the lamp on his side of the bed; it's a wordless signal that you already know: time to sleep. You're a dutiful wife and you put your book away and turn off your lamp and then turn back to your husband and whisper,

"Good night, Kai."

**

You wait until he's deep asleep to ease your way out of the bed. Every step you take in your padded socks makes you cringe. Will the floor creak? Will you make too much noise? Will you have to come up with a half-assed excuse as he comes to, groggily asking what you're doing? You feel like you can't breathe, but you do breathe, soft and shallow as you make your way to the bedroom door.

 You didn't dare keep anything related to your escape in your shared bedroom. The door feels like it weighs a thousand pounds as you ever-so-slowly open it, keeping your head turned towards the man sleeping on the bed all the while. He doesn't stir. He simply continues to snore, even as the door opens enough for you to slip out.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you cross the hallway and into the spare room that you used as a playroom and, lately, a makeshift school. The bag you packed is in the closet, tucked behind bags of school supplies that you'd asked Kai to pick up in order to make sure that your escape bag didn't stand out. You grab it swiftly, along with your daughter's outdoor shoes, and make your way to the most dangerous element of your escape: your daughter's room.

She did so well. You remind yourself to praise her once you're away from the house, once you're in a car and making noise isn't a life or death dilemma. You built up the idea of your escape bit by bit over the past few weeks. You couldn't tell her that her father was a monster who kidnapped you, but you could prey on her desire to see more, to go beyond the rules established in her father's domain.

Don't you want to meet other kids? Go to the beach, feel the sand underneath your feet? Meet... your grandma? We'll just take a secret trip, you and me, and then come back to Papa when we're done. Then he'll see that it's safe to leave and come with us next time. But you have to keep it a secret. You can't tell him a thing, or we won't be able to go. You can keep a secret, can't you?

You kneel next to your daughter's bed and gently wake her up, whispering her name and stroking her hair, so she slowly opens her eyes in confusion before her gaze lands on your face and ah, a smile--it's just mom.

"Mama?" She asks, a bit too loudly for your liking.

"Shh baby," you say. "Yes, it's mama. Are you ready to go?" You see the tentativeness, the childish confusion in the way she nods. She doesn't know what real life is yet, she doesn't have an inkling of the freedom that she's lost, but she will.

You don't bother changing. You have a pair of clothes in the bag and you'll change when you're in a safer space. For now, you take her hand and lead her down the staircase, your chest tightening with every step. You can't help but glance back at the still-open doorway leading to your bedroom. You pray to whatever is listening that he won't wake up. Each step is a step closer to freedom. Each step is a terrifying risk that you or she might slip, might make noise, might wake him up.

Your spirits lift when you reach the bottom of the stairs. All you have to do is get out the door and he'll be waiting there with the key and a getaway car and freedom.

You clutch your daughter's hand, your own palm now sweaty; you nearly trip on a toy you forgot to pick up earlier, but thankfully the light in the entryway was turned on (you must have forgotten to turn it off) and you see it just in time to avoid disaster. You squeeze your daughter hand and turn the corner that leads to the entryway of your home--

Where Chisaki Kai is standing, waiting for you, his eyes practically illuminated by the glowing lamp light.

You drop the bag.

"No," you say. "No." Your mind suddenly feels fuzzy, like its buzzing, drowning out all of your thoughts with a pure denial of what you see in front of you.

"How--how did you--" you sputter, unable to continue voicing your question. It was all planned. It was all practiced. You pretended, you waited, you planned--for four years. How? How did he know?

He doesn't have to answer. You know the moment that your daughter's grip slips out of your hand and she runs up to her father, feet thumping on the floor. She clings to his side and doesn't look at you, and he runs a hand through her hair without taking his eyes away from your shaking form.

Of course she told him. Of course she told her papa that you wanted to leave. She loved him. Why wouldn't she? It was all she'd ever known. You were breaking the rules, breaking the structure that dominated her life since she could remember. 

"Please don't be mad at me, mama." Your daughter whimpers against Kai, and you can hear the tears in her little voice, and your heart aches for her in so many ways.

"I'm not," you whisper. "I'm not mad at you, baby." You're just sad, so sad. It hurts. All of it.

"Sweetheart," Kai says, voice surprisingly calm despite the events, "go back to bed while I help your mother unpack your things, all right?"

Your daughter nods and suddenly she's against you, hugging you in a tight, childish way; you only have enough energy to pull your arm around her, limp and heavy, patting her back without really feeling it before she scampers up the stairs.

You're left alone. With him.

He approaches you slowly and you feel like an animal. There's wildness hammering in your heart and the thought comes up, unwillingly: could you still run? Escape on your own? And hope that some day, your daughter escapes and finds you? But the thought of leaving her behind is impossible to indulge in for more than a second, and you know that without her, your life isn't worth living. The thought of abandoning her to Kai Chisaki brings up an immediate sense of revulsion and guilt and shame.

"What were you thinking?"

You aren't looking at him, but you don't have to be looking at him to know that he's glaring at you. Looking down on you with his gaze filled with righteous justifications. You glance and--yes, he is, but there's something darker, something you’d forgotten, underneath. Your stomach suddenly feels loaded with weights and your legs move backwards, pulling you away from him, away from the anger that feels like it's radiating off him in waves.

He suddenly grips your chin with brutal force and yanks your jaw forward, forcing you to look at him.

"I had to kill one of my most trusted men today because of your..." His eyes dart back and forth for a moment, before he spits out the apparently perfect description of your escape attempt. "Hysteria. An absolute waste of potential, all because of your ridiculousness."

Your mouth is dry. Your voice is hoarse. But you speak up, anyway. You've already lost everything.

"It's not ridiculous to want to get out of here." 

The weight of the years seems to press down on your shoulders, pounding into your bones, screaming in your ears. 

"It's not ridiculous to--to want to take my daughter away from the man who kidnapped me and forced me to pretend like I was happy here, like I was happy living in some--" you cough, needing moisture, but not daring to stop to swallow lest you lose your courage. "--glorified dollhouse while you tell me what to do and what to wear and how to act and when to fuck you and when to have a baby and fuck you, fuck you, just fuck you Kai. I hate you. Oh I fucking hate you."

You don't notice as your voice gets louder, emboldened by the adrenaline that's been crashing through you since you opened the bedroom door, until his hand is gripping your upper arm in a show of brute, vise-length strength.

"Lower. your. voice." 

His grip strengthens until you cry out, and then it gradually loosens without letting you go completely.

For the next few moments, you do nothing but stare at one another. Your mind feels hazy, darting from thought to thought. It was all for nothing. The last four years, all for nothing. But you think about your daughter, about what she may have been able to accomplish outside of these walls, and even the fantasy of a free life for her made it worth something--didn't it?

It's his voice that lowered, now, as he lets you go completely and straightens himself up. All business now. But what business will he engage in, this time?

"Perhaps you do need a vacation," he says, finally. Firmly. He's made a decision.

You wonder if he's lost his mind and you're about to ask as much before he continues.

"Did you know this house has a secret room? It's nice and quiet. The perfect place for you to recuperate until you've regained your senses."

The room, the room, the room.

Your hand instinctively claps against your mouth as you cry out.

After all, you don't want to wake your daughter up with your screams.

[astaroth1357]

Oh! How about the brothers with a very emotionally open MC? Like, they ain't ashamed to cry or express their emotions because they think that it's healthy to speak about your emotions to others! And they're also really good at telling what people are really feeling. Please and thank you very much! And congrats on 1,500 followers! You deserve it!

The Demon Brothers Reaction to a Very Emotionally Intelligent MC

Let’s be honest, in a game centered around resolving interpersonal family drama, this is kind of what the MC has to be canonically. Also um… I made the decision, for whatever reason, to listen to the Grand Escape by Radwimps while writing this, and uh, it got… deeper than intended. Whoopsie. 😅 I guess that's the hazard when you're so dependent on what you hear to set the tone for what you write… Sometimes you make a questionable decision and you mess up at the foundations 😕 My bad. 

BIG, BIG Spoilers for Part One (Lessons 1-20)

Lucifer

To be honest, he took it as a sign of weakness for some time.

Lucifer closes his emotions off to others because he views them as a vulnerability... This is why he wasn't completely surprised that the powerless human they brought to the Devildom was, in his eyes, overly emotional.

They were never afraid to say what they felt, show sadness to others, or even admit their fears… Though he appreciated the honesty, he wrote it off as a sign of human fragility and assumed they wouldn't last long. Not unless they toughened up and started to shut themselves off like him...

But that never happened. And one by one, he watched his brothers get won over by that feeble, emotional mess… He didn't understand it nor did he like it. At one point he even swore to himself that he wouldn't let whatever spell they casted on the others affect him too.

At least, until the attic incident came to light and he finally realized that the human wasn't a mess at all. 

When Belphegor escaped and the bombshell that he had been holding finally came to light, he honestly felt lost for the first time in centuries… He didn’t know how to approach the topic, he just wanted to hide away and let it all sort itself out… but they wouldn't let him.

 It amazed him how easy it was for the MC to empathize with his brothers and even himself through the whole mess. It was like they knew how everyone felt before they even had to voice it… He loathed to admit it, but for that moment they looked even more composed and capable than he did…

It was their handling of Belphie that really sealed it for him, though. A weak, pathetic, powerless little human talking down a being far beyond their capacity to fight? Then still offering him some comfort in the aftermath? He couldn’t have pulled that off... He’s long since forgotten how.

The MC managed to open his eyes to what emotional strength looked like and, from that point on, he never doubted them again.

Mammon

Mammon's go-to approach to feelings is unconvincing denial and his brothers generally aren't much better... So actually being open and straightforward with one’s feelings is almost a foreign concept to him.

So when the MC got dropped into his life it threw him through a loop. They were willing to just… say what they felt whenever? They’d cry when they needed to, laugh whenever they wanted, and generally tell people how they felt about things openly and honestly? What?

Weren’t they scared of being teased or made fun of? You can’t be that open down in Hell! Demons would take advantage of you!

And yet, the longer he spent with them the more he started to kind of get it… And then he started to genuinely love it.

They didn’t mind when he’d bawl at movies or talked about when his brothers were bothering him… Sometimes he didn’t even need to say anything to them. They’d just see something was off in how he was acting and offer a hug... No questions asked. No shame involved.

It was refreshing. Eye-opening. Hell, even comforting to just be himself for them. Sure, he still had to keep up appearances in front of his brothers to keep from being mocked, but when they were alone? He truly could act however he felt like for the first time in a very, very long time... And he treasured that.

Leviathan

Emotions are… a thing for Levi and not a thing he's that well equipped to deal with either…

So of course, he initially felt envious of the MC when they came down to the Devildom. They had no problem with navigating their feelings. They didn’t mind talking about them or crying or admitting when they were nervous and even worse? They could actually handle it all.

Levi doesn’t tend to make his emotions very secretive either, but when he got into a mood he usually couldn’t dig himself out of it... It doesn’t help that his brothers were so used to his complaining that they’d ignore his self-deprecation rather waste their time contradicting him... 

When he first saw them in action, though, he had walked in on them crying, but they didn’t tell him to leave or try to hide their face. They just let him say what he needed to while they let the tears run their course... then explained to him what the problem was later. They weren’t ashamed… Hell, they even looked like they felt better to have it off their chest…

How come he never felt any better after he had his episodes...? Why did he still feel like a worthless piece of shit all the time?? What kind of cheat code did they use for that?! It’s not fair!

Little did he know, talking feelings out to yourself (or your goldfish) is one thing. But talking to someone who actually wants to help is another thing entirely.

The first time he went on one of his rants, the MC just watched him quietly. It was like he was tearing down a house meant for demolition...and then they started picking through the pieces. They didn’t try to shame him hating himself, they just started pulling out things he should love instead. Stuff he never even considered before…

After that point, they became very good at noticing when he was going to a dark place and intervening before he could beat himself down again... After a while, he started leaving his room when he felt that way so he could go find them and talk. 

If his mind was an ocean then, for the first time ever, he finally felt like he had a way to weather the storms...

Satan

Didn't trust it, didn't trust them, and thought it was all an act for the longest time...

Satan knows a thing or two about putting up a front, so he's the most skeptical of other people's intentions…

When he first met them and saw open they were with their emotions, he thought it was all some kind of act. Like they were just trying to gain sympathy or lure everyone in so they could manipulate them later… But he wasn't buying it.

While he watched the rest of his brothers fall to their charms, he counted himself lucky as the smart one. He thought he could see the game they were playing and he wouldn't let himself be tricked into it...

… But then the whole book fiasco happened and he found himself around the human more often. Not only did their openness really seem genuine, they actually listened patiently to his complaints about Lucifer, his birth, his rank, his rage... everything. Just nodding along and watching him intently…

After a while, he started to question if they were even listening anymore so he questioned them. Point blank. He wanted to know what they thought and… their answer surprised him.

“I think you want to be your own person.”

To him, that answer came right out of left field. What about any of what he was just saying had to do with his identity??

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized it had everything to do with it. And they deduced it so quickly from just a few conversations… He was impressed (and somewhat terrified) to have been read so easily...

For a while, he just had to study them. He wanted to know more about what kind of skills they used to understand him so effortlessly...

Though he never quite got a clear answer out of them, he found that he could respect their talent regardless and, just this once, let himself trust someone else wholeheartedly...

Asmodeus

If you're looking for a demon in touch with the emotions, then you don't have to look much further than Asmo. But even he can have blinders on sometimes…

When he met the MC, he actually liked how open they were about their feelings. He even shared their sentiments so he wasn’t bothered at all.

But when he bunked with them and Simeon in the Demon Lord's Castle, he got to see a different side of them…

After Simeon dressed him down about his narcissism, Asmo did his best to just gaslight the whole thing and put it behind him. … But the MC was watching.

Something must have tipped them off. Maybe a glance at the floor or look in his eye... Maybe just how utterly incapable he was to acknowledge Simeon's words… but they noticed that it bothered him.

"Don't let it get to you... I think you're doing great down here."

"Well of course I am, sweetie. Why wouldn't I be?"

Their reassuring words puzzled him at first... How was he supposed to take them? Were they pitying him? If he were Lucifer, he'd have half a mind to obliterate them for that alone...

But they didn't seem like the type… Asmo could read people just as well as they could, he knew sincerity when he saw it. Were they just trying to help…?

He kept that thought to himself throughout their time together in the Castle. Good heart or not, he didn't want to make getting a pact easy for them. He’d never bow to just anyone.

But after they proved their worth, it all started to click for him. This human was trying to reach out to him when they thought he was hurting… They didn't just write him off as shallow and self-absorbed. They were concerned for his feelings even when he wouldn't acknowledge them…

Asmo hung extra close to the human after that. He found someone willing to look beyond the image he worked so hard to keep up... Even if he didn't need their help quite like his brothers, he could see their effort and loved them even more for it.

Beelzebub

Beel is a straightforward guy who can appreciate straightforward people so he and the MC got along pretty well from the start.

He liked that he didn’t have to read between the lines with them. If they were upset, they’d tell him. If they needed to vent, they’d warn him. If they were happy and having a good time, they didn’t feel the need to hide it. It made life so much easier for him…

Of course, he couldn’t actually tell how good they were with emotions until he started opening up about Belphie, Lilith, and everything that went down before they all became demons…

He was kind of amazed how easy it was to speak to them, even during the painful parts... They never pushed him too much or pried for answers he wasn’t comfortable giving, nor did they make him feel bad for what happened to Lilith or missing his brother...

Honestly, they always seemed to know just how he felt about every new detail he told them. When he finally came clean about his guilt over the whole thing, they didn’t look shocked or surprised… If anything they looked just as pained as he did to have received the confirmation…

He found it oddly comforting to speak to them about pretty much anything after that. He knew that they’d listen and understand no matter what he put in front of them, and after they helped Belphie…? He’d happily love and trust them for the rest of his days...

Belphegor

"It wasn't your fault."

Those four words still ring in Belphie's ears from time to time… An echoing reminder of sorts…

He spent so long wrapped up in his own guilt, unable to talk about it to his brothers, that it turned him bitter and angry… He felt like he was the reason they were all in this mess to start with and that everybody else knew it too…

But hey, he'd say, at least down here there wouldn't be any humans around to ruin things. No humans there to steal away his family like before...

Which is why he snapped when Diavolo said they were introducing humans to the Devildom. How else was he supposed to react? They were just tempting fate for another disaster! Hadn't they learned anything at all??

While he was locked in the attic and the human came to his aid, he honestly took joy in deceiving them...

...At least at first. But on repeat visits, he started to feel his resolve slip.

They listened to him. They seemed genuinely interested in helping him and invested in his family's struggles... They looked like they cared for his brothers and even made efforts to reach out to him too... They told him about their worries and troubles in complete sincerity… with total trust...

He'd spend hours reminding himself that humans weren't meant to be trusted and all reasons he had to hate them... Repeating it all like a mantra until he felt convinced again. On the day he escaped, he finally had the pleasure of killing them himself...

But then, like a roach that just won't die, they came back and told him about Lilith… all before they said, "It wasn't your fault."

No one prompted them to say it. He'd never voiced it before... It was like they just knew... Like they could read the pain in his eyes this entire time…

He still doesn't quite share their stance on, "It's always okay to cry" so he doesn't like to dwell on the complete breakdown he had after that… He wished his brothers weren't there to see the Human-Hating Belphegor accepting a hug from them while he trembled and cried into their shoulder…

But he couldn't deny that he needed it. And from that day on, he’s accepted that he needed them as well...

[kaeyasaki]

— ❝ MISCOMMUNICATE! ❞

— LEORIO PARADINIGHT X GN!READER :; NSFW

❝ skirt off, fuck in the backseat, take that shirt off, baby, put it on me, got me like “yeehaw”, ride it like a horsey, kinda like see-saw up and down on the d ❞

warnings :; unprotected sex, dirty talk, sub!reader, slapping, fingering + degradation -> +4K words

an :; hello hi i don’t know why the fuck i’m actually writing for leorio because i don’t fw him at all, but we checked and the leorio nsfw tag is literally dry and i felt bad for leorio stans so consider this my one time gift for leorio because this will never happen again LOL — NOT PROOFREAD I’LL GAG IF I DO SO

Leorio is a man of tolerance and he’s rather neutral in the sense of liking and disliking things. Of course, he’s open about things that bother him, but he’d rather resolve issues than allow them to stew and worsen over time.

One thing he didn’t like and couldn’t solve however was you.

Leorio couldn't stand you. You were always outdoing him in every test or exam your class took and it was even worse when the professor had insisted upon seating the two of you together in order to ‘keep up’ with one another as the pair of you were far ahead of the rest of the class.

Attending med-school was already stressful enough on its own, but Leorio was certain that being seated next to you only caused that stress to multiply by ten each class he attended. Still, he refused to let you get the better of him after all, your finals were fast approaching and that’s exactly when he’d shut you up for good.

“Leorio!~” He cringed at the sickenly sarcastic tone of your voice from behind him as he walked through the classroom doors. “What?” His tone is sharp as he has no means to entertain you in the slightest, only replying out of common courtesy.

“Why so uptight? Can’t I just say hi to the second best in class?” You hummed, teasing grin tugging at your lips as he scoffs at your comment. “Second best?” He repeats, eyebrows raised and brows twitching. “Second best.” You nodded, a provocative glint in your eyes as you were left satisfied with irritating him before class.

One thing you had learnt about Leorio during the months you’d spent sharing your classes with him, was that once agitated, he had a hard time concentrating. He was easy. Too easy in fact. Every lesson you played the boy like an instrument, pulling all the right strings for all the right reactions out of him.

You weren’t certain as to what it was about him that drew you in to provoke him at every opportunity, but you were certain that every opportunity taken would leave you satisfied. Perhaps it was his desperation that kept you hooked onto him. His constant need to beat you and gloat anytime he could. It was cute almost. But despite his somewhat annoying nature in that sense, you’d be a liar if you were to say you found him unattractive.

You weren’t stupid. Whether he was aware of it or not, Leorio was more than pleasing to look at. His broad shoulders forcing the threats of his crisp white shirt to hang on by thread. His torso was slim but certainly defined as you’d caught yourself eyeing the clearly chiseled muscles which would sometimes be left exposed through the thin white material on particularly hot days. You already loved the summer months, and Leorio’s appearance only becoming more obvious to the eye due to the lack of clothing he’d wear in the warmer weather only added a reason to your list of things to love about summer.

Class was boring to say the least. Your professor's voice drowned out completely as the sun peaked in height and forced waves of heat through the glass windows. You sighed and laid your head down on the desk, eyes catching sight of Leorio scribbling down whatever the professor was droning on about. You’d never paid much attention to the boy other than when it came to annoying him and stealing glances at his handsome form. You knew he worked hard but not to the point where you knew how hard. A small smile had formed on your face as you spent the rest of the class peacefully watching your rival take down all the relevant notes, completely uncaring to the fact you had done nothing productive in class yourself.

“Good work today.” Your voice rang through his ears as the two of you packed up. “Me?” he questioned, puzzled expression wiped across his face as you giggled. “Who else?” He shot you a confused scowl before packing up the rest of his things. While you had attempted to compliment him, he had taken it as mockery. The fact you knew finals were approaching but you still gave no effort to revision in class seemed taunting to him. Were you mocking him for having to try hard? Did the whole course just come naturally to you? Leorio didn’t even want to bother finding out. As far as he was concerned he was in med-school for his own reasons and them alone. He hadn’t the time to fool around with pretty things like you, especially not now. You’d only slow him down whether that was your intent or not. He couldn’t afford to lose sight of what he’d been striving for since the start.

“Whatever.” He huffed refusing to take anymore of your constant bothering. He slung his briefcase off the desk and began to head towards the door where the rest of the students were filtering out before you called out.

“Wait!” He halted his steps, body slowly turning to face you as you stood still behind your seat he’d just left you at. “I… I didn’t get the rest of the notes from today, could I get them off of you later?”

Leorio was a little taken aback, but yet he couldn’t see or sense any signs of mockery from you as your earnest eyes held contact with his. “Fine. You know where I’ll be.” He gave in sighing before turning back around and waving you off before exiting. Previous annoyance distinguishing just slightly. He hadn’t a clue what your intentions were, but he could distinguish between the real and the fake, and nothing about the way you looked at him and almost pleaded seemed ingenuine to him.

Leorio was certain he hated you, yet he couldn’t bring himself to deny you either. Walking back to his apartment, he thought back to times where you’d interacted. Majority of them being times you’d gone out of your way to get a rise out of him, but there was something endearing about the way you did it. Leorio felt almost special that you’d pay him and only him attention. Thinking back to it, you’d never bother anyone else, your sole attention aimed directly towards him and him alone. Leorio wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be special, but as any young man would, he did feel a sense of pride over the fact he’d somehow caught the attention of someone like yourself; someone as pretty as yourself. It didn’t matter to him that it wasn’t the typical type of attention a man of his age would prefer to enjoy, but nonetheless he enjoyed the jealous stares of others as you openly teased him and arguably borderline flirted.

Refusing to give into you completely though, Leorio swore he’d keep these thoughts to himself. Admitting how desirable he found you would be stupid on his end. You’d only make matters worse for him, tease him louder in class and gain a dreadful type of attention from others towards the two of you. He found you attractive, but not to the degree where he’d be willing to make a fool out of himself in front of anyone including yourself. It was best to keep you just at arms length and put up with this childish rivalry until you’d graduate and part ways.

A few hours had passed until you had rung up his apartment to be allowed in. Permitting your entrance, Leorio tapped his foot nervously as you made your way up the complex, notes on the coffee table nearby ready for you to borrow and leave. Opening the door upon your knocking, his face warmed at the sight of you dressed down a little more.

The pretty skirt you were wearing short enough to leave little to the imagination as to what was underneath. The cute top you were wearing clung to your figure and hugged all the right places. The only thing covering your modesty was the oversized jacket you’d left hanging off your shoulders so it technically had no other purpose than a poor attempt at covering yourself.

You smirked as you felt your classmate practically eye-fucking you before even entering his apartment. “Your notes.” you spoke suddenly catching him off guard. He sputtered a few times before straightening his stance and inviting you in, a string of incoherent mumbling leaving his lips as he remained flustered due to you catching him in the act of staring. You could only laugh lightly before sashaying in, the clean apartment scanned by your curious eyes.

“Is this them?” you questioned, fingertips dancing over the paper as Leorio joined you by the coffee table. “Indeed they are. Feel free to copy them I-”

“Is that it?” You cut in, flipping the sheets over to see if he’d written more on the other side of the paper. You could've sworn he’d written more, but supposing from the position you’d been watching him in class in, you'dn't hadn’t been able to tell just how much he was writing.

“It’s more than what you’ve done.” He retorted, nerves already stricken. “True,” You mused as you invited yourself to sit on his couch. “But I would’ve expected more from you.”

“Weren’t you just praising me for my work in class?” He huffed, tips of his ears warming up from agitation. “Yeah, I thought you’d generally worked hard though, I didn’t know you’d done so little though.” Sighing, you read over his pristine notes and decided the information was somewhat useful though. “I’ve done so little? Sorry not all of us are naturally gifted and don’t have to work for our grades!” Leorio snapped, temper teetering nearer the edge with each passing second. “Naturally gifted? I do more than enough work thank you!” You hissed back, sharp edge to your voice as you took slight offence to his claim. “Maybe you’d notice if you weren’t so busy staring at my tits in class all the time!”

Leorio was shocked. You’d noticed that? He thought for sure he was less than obvious but sometimes he’d have to admit he’d lose self control and shamelessly stare. You’d never say anything or react though, so he just assumed you hadn’t noticed. That didn’t matter though, because while he’d hold his hands up in guilt for staring at you, he’d caught you on more than a few occasions staring at his arms and then let your eyes trail down below towards his belt. He never said anything though, certain it’d cause him more of a headache than anything.

“Rich coming from you.” He scoffed as you glared right back at him. “With the way you stare at my belt, you would’ve thought the mark schemes written on there.” Heat rushed to both your face and core as his temper triggered something inside of you.

Leorio’s annoyance was nothing new to you, but this bolder and snappier side to him certainly was. It was hot to be blunt and you’d be damned to give up this chance to get rid of the building tension between the two of you.

Months and months of unspoken desires had been piling up between the two of you despite the fact neither of you had openly voiced them. You unknowing acted upon them though, your hungry staring contest in play for as long as you could remember when it came to classes together. You wanted him and the feeling was certainly mutual, but neither of your prides were weak enough to give in; not yet anyway.

The silence was unbearable, your frustrations growing worse by the second until you giggled. His eyes widened at the sudden sounds of your ringing laugher as you smirked up at him. “Fine then, just admit it, you wanna fuck me as bad as I want you to.”

Leorio’s face twisted in disgust, a mask to wear while he thought of a reply. Of course he did. He couldn't count the amount of times he’d taken care of his own frustrations at night imagining it was your throat around his length rather than his hand. He wouldn’t tell you that though. Not just yet at least.

“You’re disgusting.” Yet he doesn’t move when you press your chest up against his, arms looping around his torso battering your eyelashes up at him. His eyes are heavy with a mix of lust and neediness and sharply fixated on you, awaiting your next move. You almost laugh at his pathetic attempt to deny you, afterall you could easily ridicule Leorio to nothing more than a horny young man which was exactly what he was. He might've been a respectful student and aspiring doctor to the eyes of your classmates, but you knew from the start he’d be down bad for anyone willing to offer just the slightest ounce of attention to. He was just too easy. That’s what you had concluded anyway.

“Why haven’t you kicked me out yet then?” You questioned, index finger trailing up his chest as you cupped his cheek, taunting eyes gazing up at his panicking expression. “You could’ve easily given me your notes and hurried me away, but you didn’t, this is what you wanted isn’t it?”

“N-no.” Leorio choked out, flustered state worsening by the second. You were right, he did want this, but if he was going to do this, there was no way he was letting you take charge. Your presence was already dominating enough in the classroom, but you were in his territory now.

“So I’m wrong?” your finger trailed up to his face to cup his cheek as your taunting eyes flickered up towards him.

Tension and patience finally snapped, Leorio grabs your wrist and pulls it away from his face, his own hands reaching up to hold your neck and pull you in. “Just shut up already.”

He’s kissing you. Just like that. His lips are warm and the kiss is a little messy, but you expected this from the start. Both of you are too desperate to care at this point. You’re sure he’s bruising your lips at this point, he’s kissing you like he can’t take it much longer. All intentions of hiding desperation now forgotten, Leorio forces you to see just how badly he did in fact want this, despite his previous denial.

Your hands reach up towards the back of his neck, fingertips beginning to entangle with the short roots of his har, pulling him impossibly closer. He obliges, grunting in response and slotting his thigh between your legs as he groans again.

Your frustrations spike once more when you feel his free hand hikes up your skirt, long fingers dragging along your thigh. Tracing the outline of your practically useless panties, Leorio lets his finger wander along your wet slit, arousal already soaking the material through and through and you feel him smirk. “And the audacity to play coy with me, you wanted this that badly slut?”

You can hardly register what he’s saying to you as your only focus as of now is having his fingers somewhere a little better than on the surface of your heat. “Take them off.” He demands, voice stern but smile teasing with hints of pride. Not caring to bicker back, you whine but oblige to his wishes not wanting to wait any longer. “So you can follow orders then? Good to know.” He hums in approval, rewarding you with his middle finger dragging over your clit leaving you squirming in his grip. His thigh still firmly between your thighs, you’re denied of clenching them together. He’s staring at you intensely, eyes fixated on your twisted expressions as he teases your cunt a little more before adding his thumb.

With his middle finger tracing up and down your core and thumb drawing small but firm circles on the top of your clit, your mind goes blank. You’d fingered yourself plenty of times, but not as well as your classmate and biggest rival was doing right now. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about you at night.” He sighs, demeanour completely unreadable as he almost looks as if he’s pitying you as he gazes down at your struggling face. You shake your head vigorously, wriggling in his hold in attempts for at least a little more friction. “Most nights.” He confesses with no shame as you let out a gasp as he adds another finger. He’s cautious, but obsessed with the way your walls clench down in his fingers, your arousal coating his fingers each time he pulls out. “M-me too.” You blurt out as his wrist snaps a little faster. He hums satisfied, his suspicions confirmed. He picks up the pace a little more; a reward for your honesty.

You sigh out shakily and whisper small chants of his name. The way your squirming against him has him painfully hard as he grows a little desperate himself. He begins to scissor his fingers in hopes of speeding up the process just a little more, because while he’d love to spend all night holding you in his grip, edging you to the point where you’re begging and crying, his own personal will wouldn’t hold that long, and he absolutely needed to be inside you sooner rather than later.

Arching your back slightly, you whine as he slows down taking in your pretty face. “Please just fuck me already.” You complain, eyes clenched shut as Leorio’s fingers continue their slow work. Grunting in response, he tugs his trousers down, his length springing free against your torso. “Shit.” You breathe out looking down at it.

Leorio’s dick isn’t the prettiest you’ve seen, but he’s definitely the most desirable in both girth and length. He was big, but you would guess that from the start when taking his frame into consideration. He had a few veins running down his dick too, and while he wasn’t the thickest you’d seen, the proportions matched well and you were even lucky enough to notice the slight curve which confirmed the fact you know he’d make you feel good.

Leaving you no more time to admire, Leorio pulled away from you to which you whined at the sudden loss of contact. Sitting down on the couch, he looked up at you and patted his thigh as you quickly stumbled over to him, desperation at its limit. Stopping you before you could sit down, Leorio had you over his lap as he lined his dick up to your entrance. “Sit.” he demanded as your mouth dropped open. He expected you to just sit? So casually too? He must’ve been mad. “I was already nice enough to prep you so why am I waiting?” He scolded, lustful eyes piercing through yours. “-ts too big.” You mumbled, head hung low in shame as Leorio tutted.

“It’s not, you’re not even trying to make it fit anyway.” He scoffed, tensions beginning to build up between the two of you again once more. Nodding your head, you shakily sunk down, eyes flying open as tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes. Crying out, Leorio takes a grain of pity on you as he allows you to recollect yourself. “Last chance before I do it myself,” He warns. “I’ve been generous today, inviting you to my home, letting you borrow my notes and then entertaining your needs, give a little back won’t you?”

Your teeth grit as you prepare yourself to attempt once more, but not before getting in one last snarky response. “Wasn’t it you who was eyefucking me as soon as you opened the door? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you wanted this more than me.” A harsh slap is stricken on your ass as you yelp. “Stop being such a brat, especially after you begged me to fuck you.” He hisses, frustration turning his tone almost angry. “You aren’t fucking me!” You cried out, tears of pent up needs becoming too overwhelming. Your fists are clenching the hem of your skirt and tears are streaming down your face as Leorio looks up at you.

His hands move quickly to his hips as you gasp upon the feeling of your body being pulled down. “You want me to fuck you? Fine, have it your way.” His grip on your hips is firm and you know there will be marks left later, but none of that mattered as of now. The only thing you cared about was having Leorio finally claim you as his in ways you’d imagined while pleasuring yourself most nights. Tears continued to drip down your face as you screamed out Leorio’s name as he plunged his entire length inside of your dripping cunt. It was painful, but slowly, your hips began to move on their own grinding up with his assistance until the two of you built a steady pace turning the pain into pleasure sending your head spinning.

Your tits are fully out and exposed by now, your flimsy top hardly stopping them from spilling out as they bounced at the same pace of your thrusts. Leorio’s eyes stayed focused on them for a while. His pupils gazing up and down at the same rhythm of your chest. He’d experienced the wonders of a female body before, the hunter exam he’d taken over a year ago giving him his first taste of what it really felt like to touch a woman, but this was different. This was a more personal experience, and the fact that he was the one making your body react like this only fuelled his movements as well as his pride.

“Shit- you feel so much better than I thought you - fuck - would!” You moan, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten. The praise is sent straight down to his groin as his thrusts are a lot deeper now, hitting against your cervix multiple times over as you start to see stars.

You cry out when he finally hits the right spot, your vision going white as your head tilts back, tongue dropping out your mouth. “There!” You sob. “Right there again!”

Seeing no reason to deny you when you’ve done such a good job of taking him so well, Leorio tightens his grip on your sides as drool begins to pool in your mouth. He leans in close and licks a stripe up your neck before taking a nipple into his mouth resulting in a loud moan to leave your lips. He sucks the sensitive bud as his thrusts show no relent, adamant on hitting the same spot as before.

You’re closing in towards the edge, the knot in your stomach unbearably tight as Leorio continues towards his goal of throwing you over the edge. Pulling away from your chest leaving a prominent bite mark from where he’d had his mouth attached to your nipple, he leans back in to gently lick over the mark. The gentle gesture contrasting the hard thrusts of his hips as he continued to assist in the shifting of your weight up and down his length.

A few more thrusts and you’re crying out his name, a thin line of drool streaming from the corner of your mouth as you come hard all over his cock. You’re so caught up in your own high, you miss the way he smirks at you, but with a gentle twinkle in his eyes. You coming undone is easily the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. The way your lashes cast a faint shadow over your cheeks as your head tilts back and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

While Leorio would love to keep you like this, stay inside you with your expression in place and cum dripping down him, he loses his own self control as just the sight of your fucked out face alone is enough to send him off the edge as he follows suit, loud groan as he fills his load into your dripping hole.

The warmth of his seed spreads through your entire body as your hands drop down from off his shoulders and rest of his chest, the two of you left to catch your breath. The two of you stay like that for just a few more moments. The blissful silence proving all tension, pent up frustrations and emotions had been resolved, the air now perfectly clear.

You flutter your eyes open again, your breathing returning to its regulated pace as you return back to reality. Leorio’s still inside you, his sweaty forehead resting against your shoulders, his breathing returns from ragged to regular.

“Shit.” You breathe out, realisation finally sinking into your head.

“Yeah, shit.” He repeats, tone a lot gentler from before as he lifts his head up to look at you. “And to think you only came by to pick up my notes.”

You laugh a little, his comment stirring not irritation, but genuine happiness through your chest as he offered a gentle smile your way.

“Well,” he spoke, as you gazed back into his now endearing eyes. “I suppose it’s too late for you to walk home.” “If I can even walk at all,” You mused. “You were a lot rougher than anticipated”.

He laughs. thumbs drawings gentle circles on your sides over the harsh marks he’d left on your skin from his tight grip. “What sort of business man would I be if I wasn’t just the slightest bit deceiving?” He hummed. “I thought you wanted to be a doctor.” You humoured back, your hands now finding home  around the base of his neck.

“I do, that was a joke,” He said, forehead now resting against your own. “But alongside being a doctor, what I really want,” His voice quiet, barely above a whisper as you nod for him to continue. “Is for you to give us a chance rather than fighting it any longer.”

You smiled and pulled away from him. Head nodding firmly as he gently squeezed your sides. Leorio was right, while the two of you may have had your clases from time to time, there was no denying that there was mutual attraction from the start. Something drawing you into him and that same thing refusing to let him leave.

While the two of you had wasted so much time with petty competitions and arguments, you were certain that now you’d communicated properly, things would be smooth sailing for the two of you from here. Although, you thought to yourself, miscommunication had led you to this very situation. So while you nodded your head agreeing to give the two of you a shot, maybe you’d just have to be a little difficult every so often. Just for the sake of reminiscing and no other reason of course.

[ailelie]

strong

It starts when Jirou overhears a conversation between Aizawa and Present Mic that could be flirty or not. This leads to a lunchtime discussion of flirty vs. friendly and whether or not the two teachers are each other's types. This then spins into a conversation about "types" in general.

Lunch ends before Todoroki is forced to answer with his own "type."

Class is a special lecture on heroism and psychology. This brings up the cycle of abuse and Todoroki's mental "no."

After dinner, the conversation lazily turns back to types and Todoroki gets called out for not giving his before. "Strong," he says. He gets teased for not giving more--hair color, sense of humor, hobbies, gender--and he's like "those aren't important." Likes? Dislikes? They push. Then he thinks and shakes his head. Strong encompasses everything important.

Eventually the conversation circles back to the instigating situation: Aizawa and Present Mic: Flirty or Friendly? The students start to scheme and this draws in Mina who pulls in the rest of the squad.

Bakugou thinks the whole thing is stupid. Todoroki is surprised to agree with him. Bakugou also points out that even if they are, maybe they don't want anyone to know. And, besides, what does it matter? (Secretly Bakugou knows he isn't straight and he'd hate to be outed by nosy idiots).

Next day, they're assigned a project. They can work in groups. Groups form and discussions, but the project conversation keeps slipping back to the schemes. Todoroki accidentally makes eye contact with Bakugou and it seems he is just as exasperated. Then Bakugou asks the teacher if they can change up groups if they want to do something else for the project. Teacher says "yes" as long as they finalize groups by the end of the period. Then he asks if he can work alone. That is a "no." So Bakugou considers his options (Yaoyorozu’s group would be focused, but he does not want to work with Iida, etc) and ends up approaching Todoroki who is looking about as miserable as his face allows at his own table. Bakugou confirms he isn't in on the scheme yet and says they should work together instead. Todoroki agrees, much to the surprise and dismay of his friends. He just wants to get the project done.

Near the end of the period, Shinsou drops into a chair by them and says they have to be less annoying than Aoyama's group. And then asks why they peeled off from the others. Bakugou says the rest are too focused on whether or not the teachers are dating. Shinsou suppresses a smirk and says "They aren't." "Like I care?" "We're not talking about that," Todoroki says, pulling them back to the project.

They hash out a study schedule for the project. They've got a month to pull it all together. Finding a quiet place to study is difficult, though.

There is training. Todoroki watches Bakugou finish up a set and comments, "You're strong." Bakugou a bit high on endorphins and beating his personal best just says "No shit."

When their study spot is basically invaded for the third time in a row, Shinsou groans and says he might have somewhere they can study instead. He just has to ask first. Bakugou frowns because that reminds him of an option, too. So, until Shinsou can figure out whether his idea will work, they decide to try working on their project at Bakugou’s house.

Todoroki sees how Bakugou and his mother interact, which reminds him of the lesson on cycles of abuse. On the train back to UA he asks, out of nowhere, “Do you think all kids end up like their parents?”

Shinsou and Bakugou immediately answer “No.” Todoroki is like, “But your mother…” / “But nothing. That’s just how we talk. What’s the point in sulking around or hiding what you mean?” The two then glance to Shinsou who’s just like, “My parents abandoned me. I hope I can clear that bar.” / Bakugou’s eyes widen a bit at that, but he only says, “Yeah. We decide what we’re like. Not them.”

And for the second time that week, Todoroki thinks strong.

A few days later, Shinsou announces he has a place they can study, but it is top secret so they can’t tell anyone. The other two agree. (Bakugou’s house isn’t bad, but it isn’t super close either. Walking distance is much better than a train). So after classes, he walks them away from UA, into the nearby neighborhood, and to an apartment.

Inside the apartment is Present Mic with his hair wet and down, frowning over some papers with a grading pen in his hand. He glances up when Shinsou flicks on the hall light. Shinsou signs something and Mic replies and gets up. “Wha--” Todoroki starts to ask quietly and Bakugou replies before Shinsou can, “He’s going to put his hearing aids back in.” “You sign?” Shinsou asks, surprised. “I’m probably going to be deaf by the time I’m 30,” Bakugou replies with forced nonchalance. “I figured I should learn before I had to.” “You should talk with Yamada.” Bakugou raises his brows. “You live with Yamada?” Meanwhile Todoroki is looking around the room and notices the photographs. “And Aizawa?” he adds. Shinsou just smirks again. “You’ll see.”

Present Mic returns with his hair pulled back. “I didn’t realize today was study day,” he says with a bright smile. “Why don’t you take your friends to the table, Hitoshi? I’ll put together a snack.” He does just that and then returns to the living room and his grading. The whole thing reminds Todoroki of Bakugou’s mother when she and Bakugou weren’t arguing. And he asks, carefully because he knows he misses social cues, “Is Mr. Yamada your father?”

This, of all things, is what flusters Shinsou. “Adopted,” he says. “He and Aizawa.” Bakugou laughs. “So that’s why they’re not dating. They’re married?” Shinsou confirms this and reinforces the secrecy.

At some point Aizawa returns to the apartment and Hizashi invites Todoroki and Bakugou to stay for dinner. Then Aizawa offers to walk them back to UA before he goes on patrol. “We won’t say anything,” Todoroki promises; he knows the value of secrets. Then, after a long minute, Bakugou adds, quietly, “But maybe you should? It’d have been nice to know sooner it wasn’t impossible.” Aizawa only nods. He walks them to the gates and tells them to get to bed.

On his way to his room, Todoroki realizes the implications of what Bakugou had said and once again marvels at his strength. Speaking out against a teacher and professional hero, revealing something about himself like that--compounded with his self-confidence and drive and physical fitness…

Todoroki sinks onto his bed and thinks oh.

Once the thought is there, he has trouble not paying attention to Bakugou. It is a Problem.

He is not subtle. Bakugou calls him out on it and Todoroki answers honestly, “I want to understand you.” Like Bakugou is some kind of complicated puzzle.

Really, the only thing keeping Todoroki from becoming the center of attention as everyone tries to understand why Bakugou is the center of his attention is that the flirty v. friendly now duelling schemes are still on. By this point the teachers know. Yamada is having fun with it. Aizawa is ignoring it.

And Todoroki and Bakugou have dinner at their apartment about twice a week. The project ends (and they ace it), but this routine persists.

It is strange watching the two teachers interact with Shinsou. Todoroki even watches Aizawa and Shinsou train one afternoon and is again resentful about his father and own training. And it builds. They go to the apartment and everyone is so nice and family like. And the teachers ask Shinsou about his grades and tease him over his crush on some girl they never outright name. And it is this fury building. He knows how to swallow back his anger, all of his emotions really, but he’s been letting his guard down more at UA and apparently he’s forgotten the trick of it when he has this much going on inside of him (because it isn’t just the fury; it is also his confusion about Bakugou, his worries about his mother, etc). And on the way back to UA, he quietly demands to know why Aizawa never hurt Shinsou during training.

Why didn’t he hurt him? Why didn’t he insult him? Why? He’s crying but doesn’t realize it. Bakugou is frozen. And then Aizawa is hugging him and suggesting that they return to the apartment and talk instead. Todoroki is calming but everything is still spinning around him. Aizawa asks if Bakugou can return to UA alone and Todoroki surprises himself by saying “No. He can come.” Because Todoroki has no idea what he feels about Bakugou, not really, but he knows the other boy is strong and right now he needs strength.

They return. Yamada sees them and murmurs that he’ll make tea. Aizawa takes Todoroki to the couch. Shinsou signs to Bakugou asking what happened. Bakugou replies that he has no idea. Icyhot (and yes, Todoroki’s name signs are that combination) just started crying. Aizawa interrupts the conversation by asking Bakugou to join Todoroki on the couch. Yamada brings in tea and Aizawa starts asking questions. Bakugou isn’t sure what he’s doing there until he feels Todoroki lean very slightly against his shoulder. A cat jumps into his lap. His voice is basically a monotone, but Bakugou realizes he’s still freaked out. And, as he listens to what he’s saying, he realizes why. Shinsou sits on the floor on Todoroki’s other side and leans his shoulder against Todoroki’s knees.

And after the talking is done and Todoroki is staring down at his cold, undrunk tea and the teachers are in the kitchen talking silently. Bakugou says, “You will never be your old man, Icyhot. I’d kick your ass if you tried.” For some reason this makes Todoroki huff a small laugh. “Good.”

The teachers return. They have extra futons. The boys will stay the night and they’ll discuss everything in the morning. They move the couch and lay out the futons. Shinsou sleeps in his own room, so it is just Bakugou and Todoroki.

Todoroki can’t sleep. Now that he’s calmed from his earlier fury and breakdown, panic is setting in. He can’t believe what he just did. Bakugou notices and, instead of insulting him, asks if he wants to learn sign language. They spend about an hour going through the alphabet and basic words until Todoroki is tired enough to sleep.

In the morning, Todoroki refuses to press any charges against his father. The teachers say that they’ll arrange it so that he spends all of his holidays with them or at the school. And say that he has to start meeting with Hound Dog once a week to talk. Todoroki does not like the mandated counseling, but accepts it as his punishment for letting his emotions get the better of him.

The signing lessons continue. Each night, about an hour after curfew, Todoroki slips down to Bakugou’s room and learns sign language. Kirishima knows the sneaking is going on and that Bakugou is giving lessons, but he’s just so proud of Bakugou making friends on his own that he helps cover for them. (He doesn’t know why Todoroki is learning sign, but he doesn’t ask).

The flirty v. friendly schemes are ongoing and yielding mixed results. The debate is annoying. It has been a month, but the growing mountain of contradictory evidence is keeping the conversation alive. Izuku points out that this is the kind of thing Todoroki would normally be all over, but he doesn’t know how to make himself care. He doesn’t care about other people’s romances. He barely cared about his own before Bakugou.

Because that is definitely still a thing. After Bakugou didn’t make fun of him for his breakdown. After he started teaching him sign language every night. He just wants the other boy close. He doesn’t understand his own impulses beyond that. It is enough that he’s even eaten lunch with the Bakusquad a few times.

Meanwhile, Bakugou is opening up to the teachers a bit more. After seeing how they handled Todoroki’s breakdown, he finally takes Shinsou’s advice and mentions his own hearing loss and how it probably wasn’t going to get better. Then one night he brings up what he’d hinted at before. It’s been weeks since then, but he talks about how annoying the schemes have gotten and asks why the teachers don’t just tell everyone and then says that he’s gay and if they’re too cowardly to let little kids know they aren’t alone and anyone can be a hero, then he’ll just do it himself.

On the walk home, Aizawa tells him he’s right and that they’ll think about it. During sign language practice that night, Todoroki tells Bakugou that his friends had asked him before what his type was and that he’d said “strong.” And then he says, “You’re the strongest person I know. I like you.”

And Bakugou is like “you can’t just say something like that” and Todoroki’s just “why not? It’s the truth.” He maybe quotes or references Bakugou’s comment from over a month ago on the train about being direct. So Bakugou asks if they can talk about it tomorrow and Todoroki just nods and asks, “Do you mind if I eat lunch with you tomorrow? I like being close to you.” And Bakugou feels like he’s about to explode of something, but he agrees and all but pushes Todoroki out the door.

Kirishima is returning to his room after staying late in Kaminari’s room playing games. He checks the time. “Lesson end early?” he asks. Todoroki says, “I told him I like him.” Kirishima’s brows raise--”That would do it.”--and he wishes Todoroki a good night. As soon as he’s out of sight, Kirishima lets himself into Bakugou’s room, knowing his friend is not going to be able to process this on his own.

The day happens and isn’t particularly notable. Todoroki has eaten with Bakugou’s friends before, after all. That night, Bakugou says, “Okay. Let’s try this.”

Kirishima, good bro that he is, provides gossip cover by publicly confessing to Yaoyorozu. He wanted someone unlikely who would definitely not return his feelings and who no one in the class would expect. (She accepts. It is a Thing. They go on a date and he explains. When she looks upset, he says that he does admire her; he just never thought of her that way because he figured he didn’t have a chance. He asks her if she wants to try this while also using their relationship to draw away as much attention as possible from Bakugou and Todoroki. Todoroki is her friend, so she agrees. And thus begins their farce covering a real growing friendship and relationship during which they both gain confidence).

Meanwhile Todoroki and Bakugou go on a date. It goes rather well. Except Todoroki still wants closer.

They start cuddling during their nightly lessons, which somehow remain mostly lesson still. Todoroki curls against Bakugou like a cat, mimicking his gestures.

Bakugou talks with Kirishima about things. Todoroki talks with Shinsou. (He’d like to talk with Midoriya, but even he realizes that wouldn’t be the best idea). On weekends, when other students head home to see family, Todoroki stays with his teachers and Shinsou instead of staying in the dorms like he used to. He sleeps on a futon in Shinsou’s room and tells him about dating Bakugou and wanting more, but not knowing what that “more” is. Shinsou suggests kissing. (And maybe privately teases Bakugou about it but Bakugou just flushes and gets agitated and blusters about being careful. And Shinsou, for the first time, calls Todoroki his little brother (actual ages do not matter) and tells Bakugou not to hurt him. Bakugou is both insulted and relieved by this. As if he would).

So the next night Todoroki asks Bakugou to kiss him. So Bakugou, blushing even though (thanks to Shinsou) he’d known this was coming, does. Soft and chaste. He pulls back and Todoroki blinks slowly and says “Again.” Bakugou smirks or grins and kisses him again. This one is not nearly as chaste.

At some point Bakugou tries to be nice and use ‘Todoroki’ instead of a nickname and Todoroki is like ‘I don’t like all of the nicknames, but I like that you don’t use my family name.’ And Bakugou gets it, but the nicknames start getting nicer. Less ‘halfie’ and more things like “strawberry swirl.”

The first time he does this in front of others, Kirishima glares at him and is trying to figure out how to draw the attention away when Yaoyorozu suddenly calls for him using his given name. The whispers shift immediately. And Kirishima, when he recovers his senses, thanks her for her quick thinking.

But such attention drawing doesn’t last forever, especially as Bakugou and Todoroki start gravitating toward each other during school hours (and the lesson portions of their evenings grow shorter and shorter). Then one day when everyone is starting to question them about it (maybe they fell asleep on the couch together in the common room?), Aizawa enters the room and sighs and says, “I hope you’re not concocting another scheme to harass my husband and me.”

Pin drop.

But at least no one cares about Bakugou and Todoroki being friends (or napping together) anymore.

But people will find out soon (and Bakugou is kinda itching to come out now that Aizawa and Present Mic have; it feels too much like backing down if he doesn’t), so Todoroki and Bakugou talk about what they are and what they want. And for Todoroki it is simple. He just wants to be close. And maybe he mentions also not wanting to be his father and that Bakugou reminds him that he doesn’t have to be, that he can be strong. And Bakugou wants to date. He wants to do all the shit people assume he wouldn’t be interested in. And he wants to do that with Todoroki. Plus, Todoroki’s belief in his strength is good. He feels calmer with him around. (So, basically, they’re each a rock for the other; two strong people making each other stronger by reminding each other of their own strengths and believing in one another).

It isn’t love. But it is something.

So, later that night, Bakugou sneaks down to the kitchen and makes a bento for Todoroki. The next day at lunch, when Todoroki is with his friends, he goes over to them and rolls his eyes at the inevitable takeout lunch. “Don’t eat that crap,” he says, pushing it aside and dropping the zaru soba bento in front of Todoroki. “Made this for you.” Todoroki smiles and thanks him. Bakugou kisses his cheek and is pulling away when Todoroki catches his wrist. “Again.” Bakugou laughs and maybe calls him “insatiable” or something and kisses him on the lips before returning to his own table.

(Kirishima and Yaoyorozu were not briefed on this. Their eyes meet in wide panic because they can’t beat that. They’re plotting across the room when Bakugou notices and waves them off.)

And Todoroki’s friends aren’t sure what just happened, so they ask. Todoroki smiles. “I figured out my type,” he tells them. “Bakugou.”

[eievuimemes]

THE FUGITIVE (1993) SENTENCE STARTERS TW: Themes of murder, violence and death, as well as potential mentions of home invasion and medical settings

“[name] comes from a wealthy family, yes.”

“[name] is dead.”

“[name] lied to me.”

“[name] was a bad man.”

“Are you out of your mind? He’s dead!”

“Are you suggesting that I killed my wife?”

“As soon as you get a clean shot, you take him out.”

“Aw, shit. I just bought these shoes.”

“Can we go home now?”

“Check this out.”

“Do you not feel that perhaps he might be innocent?”

“Everybody knows my name here. Big happy family, huh?”

“Get them down here now!”

“Give me an address, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“Had enough of that prison chow.”

“Hang in there, you’re going to be okay.”

“Have you been getting any threats at work?”

“He doesn’t know where [name] was going.”

“He never came through here.”

“He saved his life.”

“He was gonna kill one of my kids.”

“He wouldn’t come to me. That’s not his style.”

“He’s doing pretty good considering we had to dig him out from under a train.”

“He’s my partner. He would’ve done the same for me.”

“He’s not in the hospital. If he was in the hospital, I would have found him.”

“He’s shacked up with some babe.”

“He’s- he’s still in the house.”

“Hold it right there! Show me those hands!”

“Hold your fire!”

“How could he tell that by looking at his face?”

“How’d you like to be the guy who drove this?”

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“I can’t help you that way.”

“I didn’t kill my wife!”

“I don’t give a damn which way you go, just don’t follow me. You got that?”

“I don’t know if I passed out or what.”

“I don’t wanna get shot!”

“I don’t want to tell you how to do your job.”

“I don’t want you guys using words that got no meaning.”

“I found the man who killed [name].”

“I grabbed him and I pushed him out of the bus.”

“I haven’t seen [name].”

“I know all about it. I can prove it.”

“I know where he’s going.”

“I remember you were pointing my gun at me.”

“I think you’re lying to us.”

“I thought you didn’t care.”

“I want to know all routes in and out of that town.”

“I want you to get rid of all these people.”

“I was just down to my last joke.”

“I wasn’t worried about appearances.”

“I. Don’t. Bargain.”

“If he came to me, I would help.”

“Is your attacker still in the house?”

“It is a very surprising revelation.”

“It seems like we’ve been over this ground before, haven’t we?”

“It’s not over yet.”

“It’s time to stop running.”

“I’ll be glad to get rid of this load.”

“I’m gonna blow his brains out!”

“I’m not trying to solve a puzzle.”

“I’m the one who shot him.”

“I’ve never seen that person in my life before.”

“Last time I looked, we’re smart.”

“Let me see those hands.”

“Let that be a lesson to you - don’t ever argue with the big dog.”

“Listen, I’ll tell you what I want. I just want the car out front.”

“Look on your map if you want to know how to get there.”

“Look, I’m a [profession], I do as I’m told.”

“My friend, [name], doesn’t feel well.”

“One more time, just for the record.”

“Please help me.”

“She left work tonight and took him home.”

“She was worth quite a bit of money.”

“Someone else must have been manipulating this.”

“Stay in touch with me on the radio.”

“Talk to me. What do we got here?”

“Tell [name] I’m going home now. I’m taking my vacation.”

“Tell me where you are so I can come meet you.”

“The guy did a Peter Pan right here off of this dam!”

“There is nothing to see here.”

“They will shoot you on sight!”

“We can’t find the guy.”

“We got a gopher.”

“We should be there in about 40 minutes.”

“Well, shit, [name], I’d hate to see that happen.”

“We’re eating oranges and we’re making IDs.”

“We’re on the way yet.”

“What are you gonna do next to try and catch him?”

“What does he look like?”

“What the hell is this!? The man you were telling me was part of the wreckage, and now he might’ve got out!?”

“Whatever happened to that thing with your wife?”

“When I came home, there was a man in my house!”

“Why did you run? Running only makes you look guilty.”

“You almost got away with it, didn’t you?”

“You just hang on, okay? You are gonna be okay, pal. You’ll be just fine.”

“You must have ears like an eagle.”

“You need your strength.”

“You never give up, [name], do you? You never give up!”

“You wanna help us, you stay the hell out of it.”

[jishyucks]

Eight Count ‣ lmh

‣ genre: fluff, enemies-to-lovers, hogwarts!au, I think it's a slow burn

‣ wc: 10.8k

‣ summary: "There's honestly no way Minho would like me. And me of all people would know that." ; in which fate decides to be an ass and make you and Minho dance partners

‣ an: I'm sosososo sorry @ whoever requested this bc of how long it took. I didn't mean for it to be so long but it kept going and uni is to blame bc all of the work :(( but anyways enjoy !!

i.

You feel the beat of your heart quicken as you maneuver through the maze of corridors that you had begun to approach. Time was ticking. The first classes of the day had already started about half an hour ago, and here you were, racing down the stone hallways, tardy and a bit dazed.

It had only been a mere five minutes since you had woken up in the dormitories in pure panic, the realization that everyone had left and you were still cuddled up against one of the pillows in your bed driving you to act quick. You could accuse your housemates of not even bothering to check if you were alive, but you soon decided to place the blame on your body's restlessness and inability to go to sleep when you wished. You wouldn't call it insomnia, but your sleeping patterns weren't normal either.

Approaching the dance room with a quiet sigh of relief, you tug at the wooden door and peek in, hoping that you weren't barging in at such a humiliating time.

Scattered around the rather room, students were paired in twos. Each couple's bodies had been facing each other, hands sitting awkwardly in the other's while their faces were turned towards the dance instructors, Professor Shin and Professor Na. By the look on Professor Shin's face, it was evident that she was about to continue speaking, but the door swinging open had caught her attention.

"Ahh Y/N, nice of you to finally join us," she clasped her hands in genuine excitement, passion towards dance obviously bubbling up inside of her.

You grinned crudely and bowed your head, "W-what should I do, Professor?" Spotting your best friend Felix within the group of students, he tried his best to send you a look of 'we were supposed to be partners'. You shot him an apologetic expression back before turning your attention back to both professors.

After a brief pause in thought, Professor Na's face lit up, "Ah yes! Lee Minho lacks a partner as of now!" Following the eyes of your teacher, they brought your line of sight to the far corner of the room where Minho had been sitting. At the mention of his name, he raised his head to see that everyone had been gaping back at him in what seemed like total silence.

A sharp intake of air through your nose had replicated a gasp, eyes growing wide, "P-pardon?" Out of all the boys in the class, an amount you couldn't keep track of with your fingers, you had to end up with Lee Minho? The human embodiment of a wet sock?

Minho was… unbearable, to say the least. It wasn't that he had done something for you to hate him, which made you seem like a bad person, but in all honesty, your guys' personalities didn't seem to match. He was too arrogant, in your opinion. He has this energy that he carries that really didn't sit well with you, and by the looks of it, the feeling was mutual. It was as if you both ended up on the opposite bc end of everything.

It really doesn't help that you're a Hufflepuff, and he's a Slytherin. For some unknown reason, they always loved teasing the people from your house, though Hufflepuffs chose not to return their actions.

"Mr. Lee is the only student remaining with no partner."

You gulped and slowly approached him, only because your professors had motioned you over to him. If you could protest, you would, but what was holding you back was the attention given by the entire class and the teacher's who seemed too excited for their own good.

Minho pressed his tongue against his inner cheek, eyes lighting up in wrongly-fueled happiness. He hopped from the upper bench and down across from you. You blinked back at him dryly, maintaining calm yet trying to speak to him with your eyes.

Crossing his arms, he leaned forward and smirked, "Why the bitter face? You should relish in your luck for ending up with me."

"Stop talking, dead cells are coming out of your mouth… Luck my as–"

"Now! That everyone has a partner, I'd like you all to stick with these individuals until these classes are finished," Professor Shin had announced. It was quickly followed by groans and whining from many of your classmates. Though you hated your partner and wished you had arrived earlier and paired with Felix, you stood quiet, isolating the anger within your chest.

"And before we begin once again," Professor Na added, "I'd like to point out that this is still a class. We will be holding a class particularly focused on evaluation and your grade will be heavily based on participation over the length of this course." Once again, a chorus of grumbles had flooded the room.

You hear Minho curse under his breath, only because he was now two steps too far into your bubble, "This is utter bullshit."

This time it was your turn to taunt, "Why? Are you scared or something? Can't dance? Can't keep up with everyone?"

Narrowing his eyes, he scoffs, "Oh, shut your mouth, bumblebee. Just wait and see."

ii.

"Get up!" Felix tugged at your arm, voice sounding louder than it actually was. When you hadn't shifted at all in your bed, he sighed and tugged once more, "Y/N!"

"Wha– Felix you're not allowed in here!" You kicked at your blanket and sat up.

"We need to get to dance class," he clicked his tongue, "Let's go~"

"I really don't want to go," you whined, "I'd rather fail a class than hold hands with Lee Minho for an hour and a half." Felix dragged you out of your bed to see that you were already dressed in your robe, only your yellow and black tie had been carelessly tied.

"Wait, did you not change out your clothes from yesterday?" Felix jumped back in exaggeration, alarmed and slightly grossed out. His nose scrunched while he judged you through his eyes.

You glared at him and scoff, "Of course I did, you idiot. And don't act like you haven't done that." You take this as your victory as it was true, Felix had gone two days without changing, and it was a bit nasty considering all the places he's gone to in a day.

This time it was his turn to glare at you, "You shut your mouth! Now let's leave before Snape sees us roaming the halls once class starts."

Minho winced slightly, trying not to let your feet ruin the simple waltz routine that the class had finally run through, "If you step on my foot one more time, I'm shoving yours up your arse." His teeth were gritted in frustration, looking down at you with narrowed eyes.

"Then stop stepping on my feet," you muttered back, hoping that no one else, especially the professors, were hearing you two bicker.

It had only been about two lessons into the class and that amount of times that Minho had purposefully disrupted the routine… as if it were good, to begin with.

The two of you found it difficult to fall in sync with each other. It was always either going too fast or too slow, someone making an 'accidental' mistake, and Minho's favourite, holding your hand and hip with a tight and stubborn grip. It wasn't evident whether he was doing it on purpose, either, but you had pointed it out plenty of times, and he never seemed to loosen them.

"I'm not stepping on them," he pushed you back a little too early in the dance, causing you to stumble on your own feet. This caught the attention of those around you, though they carried on almost immediately after.

"Tell that to my bruised toe," you argued back.

As if you were being blessed, the music had finally come to an end. You promptly retracting your arms and to your body and taking a step back from Minho. He had done the same, going an extra mile to turn away from you and to the professors.

"Perfect! Perfect!" Professor Na's face lit up from excitement, "Now that we have learned this simple routine, next class we are moving on to one of the actual dances done in the Yule Ball as tradition. I hope you all are excited as I am!" Very few students had taken time to let out a "whoop" while everyone else, including you, chose to retrieve their books at the seats.

Felix approached you with a pitiful smile. He already knew what you were going to say, patting your back gently, "So how was it?"

Exhausted, you just shook your head and shrugged. Being partners with Minho honestly had been completely draining for you, mentally and physically, which was unusual as you could often live through such situations without feeling the need to scream.

"What else do you think?"

Felix nodded apologetically and puffed out his cheeks, "Is it as bad as the potions exam we had in fourth year?" He shuddered subtly and led you out of the classroom. Just thinking about that exam made Felix want to claw at his brain. If there was a way to take a particular memory and make it disappear from the chamber of long term memories, he would. Maybe then he'd be able to get a few more hours of sleep.

"Yes," you replied simply. The test was equally as horrible for you, but a test didn't force you to 'create chemistry' with a certain Slytherin.

"You're lying… can't be that bad," Felix laughed lightly.

"Easy for you to say," you sighed.

From behind, you feel someone bump your shoulder and pass by you, "Oops," he snickered, walking backwards to watch your reaction. The only thing he was missing was popcorn.

You turned to see Minho and rolled your eyes, "Ha-Ha, you're so funny, Lee Minho." Such a childish joke and you guys were almost leaving Hogwarts.

Though your reply had been dripping in sarcasm, Minho's wit had dodged it entirely, "Well thank you very much," he bowed, more like a manly curtsy, before he ran off, leaving Felix slightly puzzled at what just happened.

"Don't you see how much of a dingbat he is? He constantly chooses to pick on me just to get a reaction out of me," you utter, "He should be glad I was raised to be patient, if not I'd be hexing him like the world was near its end."

"I see a pattern," Felix hummed. The expression on his face looked as if he had come to an incredible epiphany.

Making a face, you click your tongue, "What do you even mean by that?" What pattern? Green, white, green, white? Minho and his constant need to be the crow to your crops?

Felix patted your head, "You're slow sometimes, you know that right?" He puffed his cheeks up and raised his brows as he looked down at you as if you were a kid.

"Can you just spit it out?" you narrowed your eyes at him before you physically pried his hand off your head.

"Minho does all of that just to get a reaction out of you," Felix presses his lips into a thin line, slowly forming a smile.

Finally arriving at the next classroom, you groaned, "You basically repeated what I said earlier…"

"If you didn't know this already, boys love getting attention from someone they are attracted to," Felix plopped into his seat. You followed right after, "I should know… I'm a boy."

You almost laugh at the tone of his voice. The confidence and the look he gave you to emphasize his statement; was all too funny, "So what you're saying is… Lee Minho has a – and god forbid– crush on me?" Felix nods like a young child, with eyes wide and a tight-lipped smile.

"Bollocks," You burst out laughing, "Felix, I love you, don't get me wrong, but you've never said anything more rubbish in the years I've known you."

"The chances are never zero," Felix put his index finger as if he were saying it in 'a matter of fact'.

You lean forward and sit your chin at your folded forearms. You eyed the teacher as she made her way into the room, "You're right there, Lix, but there's honestly no way Minho would like me. And me of all people would know that." You locked that statement in, feeling your words and emotions contradict.

Right?

iii.

"And then Y/N had the audacity to step on my foot," Minho kicked at the bench across from him, frustration released after what seemed to Seungmin was years of ranting. He didn't mind though, in years of being in the same house as him, he learned how to block him out yet still know what was going on when Minho asked for some sort of reply.

Minho tapped the end of his pencil against his textbook, eyes drifting off elsewhere in the grand hall. Students were clumped at their respective tables, studying for whatever class they had. Minho was trying to do the same, but his state of mind was not in the mood. But he was trying, he was pushing himself, that's what mattered in his opinion.

Turning his attention to Seungmin, who was seated next to him, he jumped, seeing that Seungmin's eyes were wide and directed at him, "What the hell!?"

"What?" Seungmin shifted back forward, facing his own books. In a sense, the scene was hysterical. He acted as if he hadn't done anything wrong or out of the ordinary, but Minho still tried to push an explanation out of him through looks.

"What do you mean what? Why were you looking at me like that?" Minho put his pencil down and closed his book on it.

"I was trying to see something," the boy shrugged and got back to his own work.

Again, Minho furrowed his brows at Seungmin's lack of detail in his response. What in the world was he even trying to do? "Trying to see what? If you don't answer me properly–"

"Okay! Okay!" Seungmin exclaimed a little too loudly, earning looks from other wizards in the room, "You know that saying that if you're in love, you start to glow?"

"No? What type of nonsense are you saying?" Minho scoffed, "Love? Are you sick or something?" Roughly, Minho brought the back of his hand to Seungmin's forehead, which Seungmin had thrown off almost right away.

"You've been talking about Y/N this entire period, you haven't stopped until moments ago," wiggling his eyebrows, Seungmin whispered his reply to Minho, making sure no one would be able to hear him this time.

Minho's face had contorted into one of disgust and confusion, "And?" Where was Seungmin even going with this? He was just relieving stress. It's not that deep.

"My point is that they're the only thing you've been talking about lately," Seungmin scribbles his pen at the top of his paper to get it to work, "Even if I start the conversation, it somehow just shifts to Y/N. Normally I'd be mad, but since you're in love, I'll let it pass."

"In love?" Minho's jaw dropped, a mixture of emotions swimming around inside of him, "In love!?" Trying to find words to perfectly reflect what he was saying, he fails, shoving Seungmin off the bench. Actions spoke louder than words, right?

Seungmin smirked and chuckled, unfazed, "What? Cat got your tongue?" He gets up, dusting his robe off before sitting back down, "It's because I'm right, aren't I?"

Minho gulps, "Will you quit it? You're…"

"I'm…?"

"You're confusing me. Quit it," Minho huffs, gathering all his things as he was planning to return to the dormitories. This was a different way of playing with emotions. There was a zero per cent chance that he liked you, or worse, loved you. That word was way too strong, dangerous like amortentia.

"I take that as a yes!" Seungmin stood his ground, just letting out a genuine laugh.

Minho held a finger up at Seungmin, who still laughed, unbothered. He didn't like you. And if he did, it wasn't wrong to do so. It was an ordinary mortal thing to have feelings. But that didn't matter right now because he didn't like you, not even a tiny crush.

But that slight state of unfamiliar panic in his heart says otherwise.

iv.

The muscles in your arm were aching from the horrible fact that Minho had been purposefully letting his arm go limp while he was holding your hand, which somehow led to you holding up his arm with your arm. You frowned at him, tempted to let your arm fall in the middle of the routine.

"Can you actually put in some effort?" you whispered through gritted teeth. Squeezing Minnho's hand, you directed a look of annoyance that only returned with an amused look. Underneath his robe, you could tell he had been intentionally dragging his feet, causing the both of you to slowly hold those partnerships behind you up.

"I'm not wasting energy on this," he shrugs quietly, "It's ridiculous."

"What don't you find ridiculous?" you rolled your eyes, "You Slytherins and the lack of interest in anything but yourselves. Where's the excitement in that?" No, you didn't want to generalize the entire Slytherin population, especially since you had family members from that house, but you knew exactly how to rev up Minho's engine. Just by the way his face twisted, you knew damn well you hit the right spot.

"Shut your mouth before I spin you a little too hard…" he said a little bit louder, "I don't find it ridiculous, I just find that us being partners is ridiculous… who in this entire school would want to be partners with you?" Before you could even reply, he had caught you, "That's not from your house."

"Jokes on you, I know plenty of people who would be partners with me," you scoffed, and it was true. There was Jisung who had somehow been sorted into Gryffindor, Hyunjin and their seniors, Bang Chan and Changbin. And there was Jeongin, who was a Ravenclaw. You could list a handful more, but that's beside the point.

"Silence is deadly," he stifled a laugh which had driven you to 'accidentally' stumble over your own feet. This caused him to stumble himself, only he wasn't prepared for it, "I'm blaming you for ending up being my partner. I was hoping someone else would've entered the room. But no, it had to be you."

"You're blaming me? For this?" You shake your head out of disbelief, not noticing that your voice had gone louder. You were catching the attention of those around you and the professors at the front of the room, "You could have found a partner you wanted in the first place but you probably decided to stay back and wait for someone to go up to you. No one wanted to be partners with you, which is why you ended up alone in the first place."

Minho's eyebrows furrowed, eyes almost on fire at what you had just said, "You know what?!"

Before he had been able to continue the banter, Professor Shin had cleared her throat. The glares that they both were sending your way had caused the both of you to stop with the squabbling, "Y/N, Minho, I know we've never talked to the two of you about your constant bickering, but it is simply interrupting the atmosphere of my classroom."

Taken aback, the both of you had stumbled over each other's feet, falling to the ground and causing a domino effect among the rest of the students.

Flustered, you turn to Minho, "That was all your fault, Lee Minho." You huffed and attempted to get up, failing once you noticed that Minho was practically lying on your leg.

"Oh be quiet," he rolled his eyes and dusted himself off, "That was all you! You and your two left feet." The rest of the room was silent, regardless of the incident. All ears and eyes were on the 'love birds,' not entirely sure whether or not they should blame you both on what had just happened.

Sliding out from underneath him, you scoffed, "Don't speak so highly of yourself, Minho."

Minho cackled, "Highly? Of myself?!"

"Stop this instant!" Professor Na had finally mustered up the courage to intervene, anger bubbling in his stomach, "Enough!" The two professors began helping the students up, scolding both of you as they did.

"Five points deducted from your respective houses," Professor Shin said sharply, "And you both are now in charge of polishing the floor every Friday for the following three weeks."

"But professor–"

Minho was cut off, "That, or ten points off for your houses…" And without another word, you both chose to polish the floors after all classes were done for the day.

Day one of polishing the floors was practically the most difficult. Not only did the professors restrict using magic to finish the chore, but the overall idea of doing something alongside Minho aggravated you, which was why you hated dancing with him so much. The comments he'd make, the taunting looks he'd give you, the jokes that were obviously uncalled for, they all were honestly bringing you to the point of near insanity.

At first, both of you had decided to start off on the same side, almost the same corner. But the moment you noticed Minho constantly glancing your way in the corner of your eye, you decided against it, "How about I start at that end."

"Whatever floats your boat," he mumbles, "I don't care."

The tone in his voice hadn't matched yours, which you assumed was polite enough not to spark some type of that energy in him, but it did.

"Whatever," you make your way to the other end, sliding your robe off on the way. You let it hang off one of the benches, making sure it wasn't touching the floor. You rolled up your sleeves and started polishing the further end of the room, a bit relieved that Minho wasn't hovering anywhere within your line of sight. It was better that way.

The second day, you were hoping that you could get through a period of cleaning without hearing Minho's ungodly voice. He had been moving back and forth from one corner to the other, feet squeaking seemingly endlessly against the floor. You wished that the volume of the music could be turned up louder.

"I'm doing more than you are," Minho pointed out. You turned to find that he was standing in the middle of the room, hair messy and beads of sweat lining his hairline. His collar was out of place, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows just as yours were. Did he, for some reason, look attractive, or was it the lack of light in the room? Probably the latter.

"What do you mean you're doing more than I am?" you feel your eyebrows knit together in confusion, "I'm doing the same amount of work as you." And you were, but you were working just a bit slower than he was. He had probably sped through his area with the idea that the sooner you both finished, the sooner you were able to leave.

"Just hurry up," he groaned. Minho dragged his feet over to a lone stool, pushing it against the wall before plopping into it. The music continued to play, drowning out the shuffle noises of his feet.

"No," you replied, keeping your speed consistent. It wasn't like you wanted to stay longer. It was the fact that Minho couldn't leave until you were finished that was making you act this way. Maybe if he did his job well, he wouldn't be sitting around doing nothing.

Tile by tile, you continued to carry out the chore given to you, not paying mind to the pair of eyes that were burning holes into your back. You ensured that the areas you had worked on were basically spotless, reflection or not, you assumed that shiny meant clean.

Minho had been humming along to the somewhat catchy tune, foot tapping to pass the precious time he believed you were wasting. Nonetheless, he leaned back and sighed, hoping you could finish in time, so he had time to nap before dinner.

"Why do they even need classes for dancing?" He sighed out. At first, you weren't quite sure if he was speaking to you or if he was just thinking out loud, "I feel like we'd be fine either way…" You turn to look at him, seeing that he was already staring at you down.

"I mean it's going to look nice at the Yule Ball,"

You replied.

"Yeah but not everyone's going… it's a waste of time," Minho had a point, yet you still found it somewhat amusing that the school would want to organize such things.

"I don't see why you don't just skip class if you find it a waste of time," you moved onto another spot and sighed, "No one's stopping you."

"Yeah but who'd be your partner then?"

Not knowing how to react to his question, you keep quiet. Minho decided not to follow up on the problem, thinking that he had said something out of the ordinary.

The sun had reached the horizon when you finished your portion of the room. You stood up to stretch, hearing the joints of your knees and back pop out of exhaustion. It was satisfying to see the difference between the used, scruffy floor and the clean, polished floor.

"Okay Lee Minho I'm finished," without taking a glance at the boy, you made your way over to the record player. You lifted the needle off and picked the record up, slipping it into its sleeve. It didn't occur to you that Minho hadn't shifted in the past thirty minutes, silence filling the room because you turned the music off.

"Minho?" Finally turning to him, you found him sleeping with his head sat back against the wall. His mouth was wide open, practically becoming a makeshift trap for bugs that happened to be flying around. The rest of his body was limp, legs spread out beneath him. It was surprising that he hadn't fallen off yet.

You walked up to his sleeping figure and laughed lightly, wishing you had a camera to capture this moment. It would've been great blackmail. Maybe then he'd start being nice to you. Naturally, your eyes followed the slope of his nose, then to the two front teeth that stuck out from underneath his top lip.

He had bunny-like features, and you didn't mean that in a wrong way. His face was still sculpted nonetheless. Anyone with eyes would have to admit that he was attractive.

"Done staring at me yet?"

You screamed and jumped back, pressing your hand up to your chest as if to calm you down. Looking back at Minho, you find that his eyes were still closed, yet a smirk had replaced his gaping mouth. The number of curse words that threatened to leave your mouth was countless, the embarrassment creeping up to your cheeks. He finally lifted his head to look at you, eyes still a bit droopy from his nap.

"I-I wasn't staring at you," you denied, shaking your head a bit too aggressively, "Well I was… but because I was laughing at how foolish you just looked."

An offended look surfaced Minho's face, scowling at you as he stood, "I have this feeling that you're lying, bumblebee… Anyways, this is where I leave. Finally, after years." He shook his rolled-up sleeves so that the cuffs slid back to his wrists. You let him leave without another word from the two of you, still in a bit of shock at what just happened. You knew he was never going to let you forget that.

You slumped next to Felix as dinner was being served, an expression almost as heavy as your posture. He looked down at you, debating whether or not he should interrupt the mini montage you were probably playing through your head.

"I want to ask you how the cleaning today was but I think I already know just by looking at you," he stated, sliding a piece of roasted chicken your way, "Unless you do want to speak about it. Just eat and the day's over."

You gave him a grateful smile and gestured for him to eat too, eyes lighting up slightly, "I'm actually not tired from cleaning that stupid dance room, but it's just… this thing that happened. It was beyond embarrassing."

Felix snorts and stuffs his cheeks with food. His words came out muffled as he still chose to reply with a full mouth, "What happened this time?"

You glanced towards the Slytherin table, eyes scanning it quickly to get one quick look at Minho before you whispered, "Minho fell asleep waiting for me to finish cleaning. He looked idiotic as he did so I sorta just—how do I say this— stared at him? But it wasn't like I was admiring him, it was more like I didn't want that stupid look on his face to go away. It was amusing."

"And?"

"In the middle of that he went, 'are you done staring yet?' It was like he had a sixth sense or something," you muttered, "Now I feel like he's making fun of me."

"Doesn't he always make fun of you," Felix had yet again stuffed his mouth, so his words were still muffled, "Why does it matter this time?"

"It's different. It's not some useless situation… it was genuinely embarrassing," you poke the food before taking a bite of your own, "He's going to it against me, I already know."

"Don't worry, I'm pretty sure he'll forget it sooner than you will."

"Hey remember when I caught you staring at me?" Minho's voice echoed faintly throughout the room. He stood up to stretch before he crouched back down.

"I never stared at you," you sneered, "And why are you talking about that as if it happened years ago. That was literally last week."

"That's long enough in my book," he retorted, "Good times." A small reminiscing type smile appearing on his lips.

"Can you not start? I sorta want today to be stress-free and you're literally ruining it," you roll your eyes and move onto the next tile on your side. Minho had decided to choose a different record to play today, one the professors had never played in class. It had been hidden behind all the other records being used, and it took Minho a good five minutes to rake through all of them just to get to it.

The songs were more upbeat than the waltz music you were forced to listen to, which was actually much more perfect for cleaning to. It made it a bit more bearable than the last two times you had to clean.

Minho didn't reply, though you didn't see how he switched glances between you and the mechanical polisher in hand. The track had shifted into a faster song, something that was easy to dance to. From where he stood, he could see your knitted eyebrows, eyes dropping from the slight fatigue blanketing over you after a long school day.

Upon awareness that his shoulders were slumped, he straightened himself and sighed. This week had indeed been a long week, and it was evident in some way in both of you. This was the last of the week's labour before he could go and relax while mindlessly saving his homework for Sunday.

The music had been tempting to let go earlier than he should for the week, the steady beat and the catchy melody filling the room.

Putting the polisher and the rag down, he took a few steps towards you, still contemplating whether he should do what he was thinking or not. He was unsure whether it was bizarre for him to pull such a thing. But you did say you wanted a stress-free day, so he thought he should switch up a bit.

He started moving his body to the rhythm of the music, head bobbing as it took over him naturally. It was easier dancing alone than with a partner, that's for sure, but he wanted to invite you.

"Y/N!" He was freestyling, arms flailing and legs bringing him across the room with a swift movement.

You sighed, "What now?" Turning to Minho, you find him in the middle of the dance room, doing what the room was made for. He had a foreign smile on his face, not the usual smirk you'd find him sporting.

"What the–"

"Join me!"

You went through several different emotions in seconds, confusion, amusement, joy, contemplation… how were you supposed to react to a goofy Minho?

"Join me!" He repeated. This time he approached you, hands out in invitation, "C'mon it's fun!"

"Minho, we have to finish this so we can leave, remember?" You tried to keep a stern look on your face, yet you couldn't hold back the smile that had been forcing itself out. Minho suited this look; It was happier and carefree. You didn't know that his eyes would light up when he smiled a somewhat gummy smile.

"I know, but let's take a break," being the impatient boy he was, he took hold of your hands and pulled you up. He led you in a dance that probably wasn't considered a partner dance. He just pushed your arms back and forth like those scenes in the movies.

"Minho!" You finally let out a laugh, feet unable to keep up with his. He was sidestepping left, then sidestepping right, then back and forth, all unplanned. You stumbled, letting out joyful laughter that was rare around Minho. He laughed along with you, eyes disappearing the bigger his smile got.

When your legs had gotten worn out from constant movement, you tripped over one of them, sending you and your dance partner to the ground. Instead of erupting anger that would have usually washed over you, fits of laughter fell in its place, echoing throughout the room.

Before you could ask if he was okay, you hear footsteps enter the room, a confused Professor Shin staring the both of you down, "What are you two doing?! This is not polishing the floors!" The exasperation changed the normal hue of her skin into a shade of crimson.

Quickly apologizing, you get up and return to your so-called 'stations,' not being able to say another word about what had just happened to each other.

You wouldn't admit it out loud, not in front of Minho at least… but that was the most fun you've had in weeks.

Little did you know, Minho felt the same way.

v.

There was a part of you who had gotten used to Minho's horrible dancing after two weeks of dancing classes. After what happened last week, there was a tiny sliver of toleration that had surfaced from both of you. It was mutual. But obviously, neither of you were going to admit it.

Though Minho was starting to get somewhat bearable, there were still days when he'd begin to act up, smirk pinned tightly on his lips while he mischievously pranced about in the dance room. Today was one of those days.

When Professor had slipped the record onto the play, dropping the needle onto the very edge and starting it, Minho had chosen to let his body go heavy, relying on you to haul him around like a giant, weighted ragdoll. You knew he wasn't tired, just judging by the look in his eyes.

"Give it up," you tugged him roughly in one direction, then again towards another, feet hardly following the steps the class was taught the past few weeks. If Minho let his body grow just a bit limper than it already was, his head would have fallen directly onto your shoulder. If you were being honest, you didn't want any attention from anyone else in the room, "Lee Minho, I'm not in the mood for this today, okay?"

Minho's ears perked at the foreign tone that had slipped from your lips, sensing that you were being serious. You would tell him to quit it most days, but never with that tone; It was no fun if you weren't fighting back. Sighing quietly, he had picked his body up and started to follow the eight-count that Professor Shin was practically yelling out.

This minor change didn't go unnoticed by you, feeling his body grow lighter just moments after you'd ask him to quit it. Did he just…?

Other students in the room were surprised that you two were going more than thirty seconds without arguing like a married couple. Many sets of eyes didn't bother leaving the both of you, watching what would happen next in the twist of events.

Minho's feet carried his body swiftly; for the first time, he was guiding you like he was supposed to, but his eyes were glued to his feet, not wanting it to become weird if he were to make accidental eye contact with you. He didn't like how quiet it was between the both of you. The music didn't even do its purpose by filling the silence.

"Are you going to the Yule Ball?" Minho asked awkwardly. He twirled you as part of the dance. He recognized that look on your face which was basically a wordless reply, "That was probably a dumb question." Shaking his head, Minho mentally slapped himself. Never in his life did he fail with words.

"Of course I'm going," you replied rather expressionless, "Why would I not?" You were almost as confused as earlier. Minho trying to make a civilized conversation. Who the fuck was this? It wasn't Minho.

He shrugs, "I don't know… I guess you have a date…?" Minho, what the fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut as if the stone floor would swallow him wholly to take him away from this situation.

As puzzled as you were, you still decided to keep the conversation as it was, "Nope… I think I'm just going with Felix for fun." You tried to keep your tone calm when really you were freaking out. The only thing was you had no idea why you were freaking out, "Y-you?" Facepalm.

"No one."

None of you chose to speak after, not knowing where the conversation was going. The song was slowly reaching the end, which you had wished came sooner. Minho's hands were growing sweaty, and you wanted nothing more than to wipe your hand off. It was getting hot in the room too. Your collar was growing tight, throat itching for water.

Minho's heart was beating a bit too fast for his liking, but it was probably because he was growing tired from the moving. He wondered if you could feel how sweaty his hands were getting. Embarrassing.

"Final counts!" Professor Na called out before the static of the record player replaced the music. The two of the professors had clapped in adoration, overlooking all the students in the room.

Professor Shin had a broad smile on her face, "Beautiful! Gorgeous! Best one so far!" She twirled in place, "Thank you everyone! The Yule ball is in two weeks so I am very pleased with the effort you all are putting into this class! Remember we still have the final class in which you are graded, which I'm sure you all will ace."

"I couldn't care less," Minho mumbled, only so you could hear.

You turn to him, squinting your eyes and tilting your head to express your slight frustration, "You know I'm your partner right?"

"Oh no~ really?," he stuffed his hands into his pockets, "And?"

"And? I don't want to fail this class, even though I'm forced to dance with you," you stated, "So don't you fucking dare fail us both." That tone in your voice was evident once again, catching Minho off guard. The only reason that it had this effect on him was that he was so used to you choosing to fight back. It was like some sort of reminder that everyone around him was getting old, and soon all those around him were expected to be serious.

Nevertheless, Minho shrugs to annoy you, "Whatever."

Instead of answering, you eyed him once more. Your dancing just a few moments ago says otherwise.

You had practically sighed out the total capacity of your lungs as you hung onto Felix's arms on the way out the door.

"What are you sighing about?" He chuckled.

"You already know," you elbowed him.

Felix rolled his eyes and sang, "I saw you guys dancing earlier~."

You pushed him away gently, shock littering your face and posture, "What the bloody hell are you on about now, Lee?"

"You guys actually look cute together when you aren't babbling and all," he grinned innocently. Your heart had the audacity to skip a beat, startling you just as much as Felix did.

"Cute?" You scoffed, "First you said you think he liked me, now this? Are you his wingman or something? Are you trying to get me to like him?"

Felix skipped in his step, "I don't even talk to Minho, Y/N, don't be ridiculous… wait… did you basically just say you're starting to like him?" He gasped, hand slapping over his mouth, which had fallen in shock.

"No," you say flatly.

"Liar," Felix poked at your rib, "Liar. At least confess that you find him less bad."

"Sure, whatever makes you happy, Felix."

When you had fallen out of Felix's line of sight, you let the corner of your mouths turn up slightly. He said we looked cute, you think, only followed by you flicking yourself in the temple.

-

"I thought you were staying here until it closed?" you frown at Felix, who started gathering his stuff. You both had planned on cramming everything in for a test the next day, but plans didn't go as planned when Felix was eager to go back to the dormitories to sleep until the morning.

"My eyes are going to fall out of their sockets if I don't go and sleep, Y/N," he pats your head as if he were talking to a young child, "You can stay if you want. I know how much you hate studying in the common room." He double-checks his area to ensure he hadn't forgotten any of his belongings before patting your head once more. He grins and turns towards the door of the library, leaving you sitting alone at the table.

"Felix ~" You called out quietly, only for him to wave with his back facing you. You sighed and slumped back in your chair, resting your arms on the handles. Libraries were so much better when you had company.

The words in the textbook were starting to turn into blobs of ink, and for a second, you were thinking about following in Felix's footsteps. After moments of consideration, you shook your head and sat up. You'll stay, even if it was against the will of your fatigue self that had been prompting you to leave. This was all your fault anyway. Procrastination was a cruel thing.

Hunching forward, you let your eyes trace over the words, trying to process the information. You rewrote the info you wished to remember carelessly. Your notes resembled chicken scratch, but at this point, you didn't care because it was simply supplementary to your studying. The sun was close to its horizon, and the library was close to empty. It was somewhat more motivating.

Slowly the information had started to get more interesting. It was easier to run through the key terms and ideas listed in the textbook, and you could feel the exhaustion simply leaving your body. I'll finish this one last chapter and then save the rest for lunch tomorrow.

Your focus on the book had hindered your peripheral vision that the presence of another wizard floating over your shoulder went unnoticed. It was only until they had sat down next to you when you finally noticed.

You jumped in your seat, eyes growing wide. You had luckily suppressed your scream with your hand, which you had, out of defense, swung forward, slapping the person in the chest.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You don't sneak up on people like that, Minho," you rolled your eyes at the Slytherin, shifting away from him before turning your attention back towards the textbook. He scooches closer with intentions of irritating you, pushing his face towards your book, "What are you doing?"

You push him away and stick one of the thicker books between you both, "What does it look like?"

"Studying?"

"You're smarter than I thought, Lee Minho," sarcasm dripped from your voice as you glared at him. Attempting to continue with the final chapter, you miserably fail when Minho interrupts your concentration by tapping his fingers loudly against the wooden table.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" you say numbly, voice muffled by your robe, "I was literally just sitting here and you decide to do this."

Minho shrugs and uses his arms as a makeshift pillow, "I was bored, saw you, here I am, I'm here to stay."

Your eyebrows furrowed at the fact that Minho decided to 'spend time with you upon seeing you. You had no idea whether to feel flattered or irritated, but you knew you were confused. He could've just gone back to the Slytherin dungeons to sit with his housemates, but he saw you and decided to sit with you.

Staring blankly at the bookshelves across from you, you huffed out the corner of your mouth, blowing a stray strand of hair by your cheek. You did say you wanted company. You just weren't sure if it was Minho's company that you wanted. Glancing down briefly at him, and looked back up to the bookshelves.

"Fine," you say after pondering about the idea.

Minho's ears perked up, raising his brows, "Fine?"

"Just don't be loud."

Minho's head tilts in confusion, though he still complies, sitting next to you patiently. You continued to read through the final chapter, which you had underestimated in length. The chapter was a good half a centimetre in thickness. Though it didn't seem as much at first glance, the pages were practically dipped in ink, words covering it from one corner to the other.

You could feel your eyes grow heavy as you delve deeper into the chapter. Your bed was calling for you, but there was no way you were going to give. Not until this chapter was finished.

The library had been silent except for the occasional click of the pen from the librarian's desk. You had been mentally counting down the number of pages left to skim over, eager to feel that feeling of satisfaction you usually get once you finish a task. It was the same feeling as crossing or checking off a chore on a to-do list.

Minho had settled his eyes on the centre of your book, keeping them steady even as you flipped the pages. He felt the lids of eyes gradually get heavier as each page went by, and by the time you shut the book in delight, he had fallen asleep.

"Again?" You furrowed your eyebrows, remembering the last time he had fallen asleep in your presence. You darted your eyes away from his dormant figure, not making that same mistake twice, "Minho, wake up."

He stirs right away, head rising from his arms. This time he says nothing, pushing himself off of the library's chair before stumbling over his own feet as he makes his way to your side. He looked like a toddler, and it was admittedly adorable.

"Why didn't you just go straight to the dorms if you were tired," you snorted at his dumbassery. Some students still littered the halls even if curfew was nearing. Instead of parting from your side at the library's entrance, Minho stuck by your side.

"I wanted to spend time with you outside of class," he grumbles. He blinks at the long corridor in front of you two, eyes barely staying open from exhaustion.

Feeling your heart skip a beat, you tried to pick out if he was joking or not, but his tone screamed, 'I'm tired.' Any other emotion was hard to comb out, so you sighed and shook your head, pressing your lips into a smile, "Sleep that cheesiness off, Lee Minho."

Minho continued to walk next to you, silent and confused about what you just had said. It wasn't like he was drunk. He was well aware of what he just said. Nonetheless, he subtly walked you to the kitchen corridor, parting ways with you with an uttered 'goodbye.'

vi.

Sitting against the stone wall, you watched the rest of the class carry out the dance routine, formation changes and all. You ran through it with them, only mentally as your partner was nowhere to be found, and the class was halfway done.

There were barely any classes left before the final graded run through, and Minho really thought it'd be funny to skip? You would have let it pass if you guys weren't the worst duo in the room, but you guys are the worst duo in the room, which made the situation different.

"Professor Na," You asked quietly, "Has Lee Minho been excused from today's class. Is he ill?" You didn't want to jump to conclusions, keeping in mind that people did have their own reasons. Maybe he had caught a cold or was doing a missed exam that was far more important than dancing.

"No word from Minho, Y/N," the professor hummed back.

You frowned and thanked him, turning back to the main dance floor, students moving in sync. Where was he?

Just as you had finished your train of thought, the door had swung open just like it probably did on the first day of class. Minho stumbled in, hair a mess and a rather sheepish smile stamped on his lips.

"I apologize Professors," he bowed deeply, following the perimeter of the room. He bowed again as he reached the two instructors at the front of the room.

Professor Shin stopped her counting, "No need to apologize to us, apologize to your partner." She gestured towards you, already looking back. Minho nodded and approached you, though when he did reach you, he didn't apologize.

"And?"

"And what?" Minho ridiculed.

"Aren't you going to apologize like what the Professor asked?" You tried not to laugh at how Minho had been acting.

Minho let out a cackle, “No? Why should I? Can you stand up so we can start dancing or something?" His hand was itching to reach out for yours, feeling like he should pull you towards him, but he hindered himself from doing so, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Instead of pushing the apology out of him, you decided against it, not wanting to waste any of your time, "Why are you even late?"

The two of you followed the crowd, joining in at the perfect time. Minho smirked, "Worried about me or something? I know I'm in your head twenty-four seven, but I didn't expect you to be so obvious about it."

Tightening your grip around his hand, you gritted your teeth, "I wasn't worried about you, nitwit."

"Then why are you asking?"

"Because you made me sit, doing nothing for nearly forty-five minutes?" You reply as if you were pointing out the obvious, "So why are you late and coming to class looking like a mountain troll?"

"Wow, ouch," he sighed, "I slept in. Am I going to hell for doing so? Because I can recall you did the same the first day and got us into this mess."

"This is about you, not me," you applied pressure onto his hands, causing him to stumble back slightly, ruining the rhythm he had built up. He furrowed his brows at you and did the same, only you were somehow ready for it.

"Oh please," Minho rolls his eyes, "You've done the same so you shouldn't even be mad at me."

"I'm only frustrated, not mad, there's a difference," you point out, "And I'm frustrated because we have that graded dance next week. If we fail, it's going to be your fault."

"It takes two to tango," he quoted, "And you already know where I stand on that. I don't ca-"

"Shut up, the professors are looking," you warned, flashbacks to the three weeks you had to polish the floors.

Minho laughed slightly, letting air blow out of his nose. He let his eyes drift down at you, keeping them there for a little too long.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, spinning you along with the other students, "You just looked way too terrified." The next move had the two of you closer than the initial space between you.

"I don't want to be spending an extra three hours with you after classes polishing the floor," you retort sharply. Instead of holding eye contact with him, you stared at the Slytherin crest on his uniform.

"I know you liked spending time with me, don't lie," he rolled his eyes teasingly.

"I'm not lying."

"You staring at me says otherwise."

"Oh hush about that already, I literally told you that I wasn't staring at you," Inwardly cringing, you felt relief once the music had stopped. You stepped back and eyed down the boy in front of you, "Why do keep bringing that up?"

Before Minho could give reasoning, Professor Na had spoken up from across the room, reminding everyone that the next class was the graded class. Though they wouldn't be strict with grading, he still wanted to see the students' effort 'flowing'. After a chorus of groans, class ended, allowing you to avoid Minho and find your way to Felix.

-

Someone tapping your shoulder had woken you up, head jolting up as if you were frightened.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Chaeryeong gasped sheepishly. She was hovering over you slightly, eyes wide. She was changed into her nightwear.

You sat up, only now realizing you had fallen asleep in the common room, "It's alright. What time is it?" You didn't even remember how you fell asleep, but you sure did have a good sleep.

"It's almost midnight," she replied, "I needed to grab water from the kitchen, then I saw you here and figured it'd be more comfortable for you to go to sleep in your own bed rather than this tiny couch."

You grinned, "Thanks Chae… I'll probably get something from the kitchen as well."

She nods and mumbles out a quick goodnight before disappearing to the girls' dorms. You return her farewell before standing up, eyes drawn to the wrinkles your nap had made on your robe. Attempting to straighten the robe and yourself out, you stumbled towards the Hufflepuff house entrance, exiting promptly.

The fireplace had been lit, a few house elves roaming about and carrying out their own duties. They paid no mind to you, as midnight snacks weren't out of the ordinary for Hufflepuffs.

You asked for what you needed, then was given it with no delay, "Thank you." The house elf nods before turning away with a grunt.

You sit at one of the tables, zoning out as you stared at the blazing fire across from you. School was getting a bit more stressful than it usually has, which was probably the reason why you had fallen asleep without knowing. You remember coming back from a long library visit. Maybe you collapsed on the couch once you did.

You made mental notes on the work still yet to be done before the following week, spontaneously creating a headache. Standing up, you figured it was best for you to go back to sleep. Slipping the dish into the sink, you started making your way back to the dorms.

You rubbed your temples and shook your head as you closed your eyes. It probably hadn't been a good idea to be wandering with your eyes closed as you had immediately bumped into something firm.

"Y/N?"

Looking up, you came face to face with Lee Minho, who was just as shocked as you were. He had been dressed down in a knitted Slytherin sweater and pyjama pants.

"Minho? What in the world?"

He backs up after noticing how close you were to each other, "Could say the same 'bout you."

"My dorms are right there," you point just down the corridor, "While yours is in the dungeon…"

Minho blinks before he tries to move around you, eyes avoiding yours.

"What are you doing here?" you grab his wrist, eager to find out why he was roaming the halls. It wasn't unusual for students to be breaking the rules, especially Minho, who loved living up to the stereotypes of a Slytherin. He smirks at the skinship, which prompts you to let go of him, heat rising up to your cheeks without warning. You're suddenly glad it's dim around the two of you.

"I was… taking a walk," he successfully pushes past you and into the kitchen, a glass of water already there for him. He thanks the house elf, leaving the glass, before turning back to you. By the looks of it, it seems like he's been doing this before, like a routine.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, "Taking a walk? You're painfully awful at lying." And the pause in his speaking gave that away. You followed behind him, expecting an honest answer as if you deserved to know.

"Weren't you just leaving?"

"But my question is unanswered," you shrugged.

"I answered you, I was taking a walk," he pushed the answer. Putting the cup down, he turned to you, "I have… sleeping problems."

"You just lied again," you nonchalantly, "Just tell me the truth. No judgment. A Hufflepuff's promise." You weren't usually one to push an answer out of someone, but this situation was different.

"You say no judgment but I already know how you're going to react to the truth," he takes another sip of water.

"So you were lying!" You raised your brows, "I knew it!"

"You don't deserve the truth," he sighs. Finishing the cup of water, he starts to make his way out, not even turning to look back.

"Lee Minho!" You groaned. Maybe it was your fatigue self or the fact this felt like some sort of game, but you weren't holding yourself back, "When I said I wouldn't judge, I won't. My mind's open to whatever you're going to say."

Minho spins around to face you, stumbling backward a few more steps before he halts, "I was practicing the dance steps."

No judgment.

The flat expression on Minho's face indicated that he had no intentions of lying this time. He had his hands hiding behind his back, eyeing you just to see if you would live up to your promise. Instead of his expected reaction, he finds you smiling, something he'd only see when you were around your friends.

"Wipe that smile off of your face, bumblebee," he mutters.

"Didn't you say you didn't care about that class?" you quoted, a smirk slowly replacing your smile, "Why are you practicing the steps?"

Minho licked his lips. He was at a loss of words, nothing but the truth occupying his mind… Why the hell not?

"Because you care."

You blinked back at him, lips parting and meeting several times as you tried to find the right words to say. The silence was deafening. "What?"

"Because you care," Minho repeated. He kept his expression still, eyeing you, trying to figure out how you were taking this in.

How would he further explain it? He didn't know. All he knew was that ever since that specific moment between the both of you the other day, he took it upon himself to better his partner dancing. He didn't want anyone else knowing, not you, and especially not his housemates, which was why he chose to stay up late to do this; it was the real reason why he had shown up late to class.

You weren't sure if it was because it was quiet, but you could easily hear your heartbeat as it quickened. You try to cover up the fact that you wanted to freak out, "I don't know whether I should laugh or–"

"Yeah, whatever, shouldn't have told you in the first place," he mumbles. For some reason, he felt his heart lub-dub in a way that it shouldn't. He frowned and sighed, "Just forget it."

"Wait, Minho," you call quietly. He stopped in his tracks and turned, partially facing the wall and facing you. He stared back at you with a vacant look, waiting for you to say something. If you weren't going to be saying something nice, he didn't want to hear it after exposing himself like that.

"'Because you care?'" you frowned, "You can't just say that and leave." You already made up a possible answer to the countless questions through your mind, but it was still unclear whether or not that was it.

"What else do you want me to say?" Minho stuffs his hands into his pockets.

"I just want you to explain it," you reply quietly.

Minho glanced out the window sitting by you both before sitting down on its pane, "Remember that other day… when I told you I didn't care?" You nod and move closer to where he sat, unsure whether or not you should sit next to him or not, "I don't know… you were really serious back then… I guess I wasn't used to that. So I figured…"

There was a quick moment of silence before he huffs, almost sounding defeated.

"Did you know that I genuinely don't dislike you as much as you think I do?" He says out of the blue, throwing you off. You wanted to tell him to sleep it off again—why did moments like this always happen at night?

"I don't either," you say back, "At first I did… but I matured."

"I only ever argued with you out of amusement. You're the only person outside of Slytherin that could out-talk me and it bothered me for some reason," he laughed as if he recalled a memory.

"Me intimidating a Slytherin? Just wait til the others hear about this," you joke. He glanced towards your direction and saw a clever glint in your eye.

"Don't you dare," he holds back a smile before standing up to face you directly, "Or…"

"Or what?" You challenged, "Imagine how Seungmin would react! Donghyuck and Renjun? What about Yeosang and Wooyoung?" You start listing the other well-known Slytherins off of the top of your head, holding back a laugh as you watch Minho's face crumble into an expression that looks far too close to fear.

Minho recollects himself and shakes some sense into himself, "Or I'll make you go to the Yule Ball with me." He hadn't planned on asking you today, but the timing was perfect. It fit with the situation. If you were to react unfavourably, then he could just joke about it.

His question shut you up. Your eyes widened at him as you processed what he had used as a threat, "What if I want to go to the Yule Ball with you?"

Minho takes a step towards you, a smirk appearing on his lips. His confidence was skyrocketing, and you can tell, "Then I guess it's a date?"

Rolling your eyes, you let a smile grace softly onto your lips, nodding, "It's a date."

Bonus:

"I told you to wear something with gold," you whined jokingly as you were greeted with Minho, who had completely dodged your request. Instead of the black and gold look you were going for, he decided to wear a black suit that had traces of emerald. As much you wanted to match with your date, you had to admit that he still looked as handsome as ever in the attire. He looked like a prince.

"And look like a Hufflepuff? No thanks," he scoffed teasingly. He pulls out a corsage, one that matches the clothes he wore, tying it gently around your wrist, "You look very beautiful."

"Well, you look very handsome."

Minho laughed as he sticks out his forearm, a brow raised in your direction. Music being played by the live band had been spilling out of the ballroom; the voices of everyone attending gave the ball more life. It was exciting.

"Minho!" Seungmin had called. Felix, who had slipped from your side the moment Minho approached you, was standing by Seungmin, smiling brightly. He had been hyping you up the entire night, telling you that there should be nothing to worry about.

He was right.

"Shall we?" Minho asked. It was cheesy, but it worked.

"We shall."

Hope you enjoyed it! A like would be appreciated <3

[lovelivingmydreams]

The worst possible thing.

*stares at this long and hard.* Fine!

@kingcreativityau you know who is responsible for what comes next.

Yes @hunter-with-a-tardis I'm looking at you

Janus was pacing the floor. He didn't like this one bit.

“What's taking him so long?” he wondered aloud.

It was a rhetorical question and the sides who were sitting here waiting couldn’t answer him even if it wasn't. No one liked this plan. It hadn't even been a plan. It was half an idea Logan and Janus would have dismissed at once if Virgil hadn’t been in the room  and overheard Janus mumble about it. Harnessing Virgil’s given powers and undo what king had done.

It was too risky to even consider. Janus didn’t need Virgil to point out all  the ways it could go very wrong. To everyone’s shock Virgil came with a solution though. He'd take king up on his offer and finish the gallery, ask him to teach him to get control over the shadows. If king took a liking to teaching, which Virgil thought he might, he'd keep doing it and eventually Virgil could lift the curses and they all could get back to helping Thomas.

Janus had wanted to argue. Sure king enjoyed instructing others in skills he felt more proficient at. He recalled King teaching him to duel not too long ago. He also remembered what happened after the student caught up though. King storming away and then, after he'd managed to get out of king's obstacle… how he'd been cornered, the panic the punishment for daring to upset the king in any way. No this was their mess. Virgil was not yet on king's bad side. That was a card they couldn't waste on something that risky.

But Logan had been writing and Janus was convinced he'd say something similar. And Virgil was more likely to listen to Logan so he'd waited.

He should have known Logan would never just dismiss any idea out of hand.

Somehow they'd all agreed to see if Virgil could get a first lesson. And soon Virgil left them to practice with the king every day. Which should be a comfort right? King clearly enjoyed the activity and he was not suspicious of anything. That was exactly what had Janus worried now.

Because king wasn't the only one enjoying the lessons. Sure Virgil still seemed terrified of the man, but whenever he returned he was deep in thought, sometimes with a small smile on his face. The one that said: I just did something right.

He'd been looking at them oddly too, like he was figuring out a complicated puzzle.

Something was off but Virgil refused to talk about it. Something about a promise he made.

A click of a pen echoed through the mostly empty space and Janus' head snapped up.

Logan needed his attention.

He was scribbling down something as fast as he could and handed it over. Janus read it over. It was a long ramble, but it came down to one thing.

“I do have faith in Virgil. It's king I’m worried about. One perceived slight and…”

Janus touched the mark on his face. The memory of it's creation very vivid in his mind.

“Aw, you do care,” Virgil's voice came from behind him. Janus whirled around.

Something about what he saw took him back, to a time when he had two misfit friends who didn't hate him. Before the fight.

Maybe if was that mischievous smirk or the way he carried himself as if he couldn't care less what other people thought. Except now he really seemed to mean it.

His clothes weren’t back to normal by any means. They were upgraded though. From a dark version of Roman's original outfit to one reflecting the fitting in upgrade. Except Virgil wore a few medals pinned on his vest. As well as applying Virgil's black and purple with white detailing color scheme.

He also wore a dark purple hooded cape instead of a sash.

Most startling of all, he looked genuinely comfortable with it all.

“Virgil? Is that you?” Janus asked.

Virgil nodded, still smirking. “Indeed it is,” the deep terrifying voice of the King boomed and suddenly he stood behind him hands delicately resting on the youngest side’s shoulders.

But Virgil didn’t even flinch.

“Dear Anxiety made so much progress, I felt he deserved a promotion. I offered him the title of Prince,” king summoned a dark crown in his hand only to immediately clench his fist and make the image disappear. “but he is so loyal to those he considers friends he wouldn't even consider to take my light half’s title,” King praised fondly. He stroked Virgil's hair for a moment. “So he is my head counselor now on top of creative minister. And you should all be happy to know, he made a plea on your behalf.” King waved his hand and suddenly Patton was six years old.

“Wha… I can talk?” Logan gasped astonished.

“You explain the conditions to them. I have to get back to work.” And just like that, King was gone.

“You did it?” Janus asked perplexed this was too good to be true.

“King did. Don't take his generosity for granted,” Virgil warned sternly.

“Virgil, kiddo…”

“You shall not address me like that!” Virgil hissed, his voice booming, twisted and sinister, a dark aura flaring up, making them all step backwards in shock.

Virgil took a deep breath. “Names are for friends and allies. After what I heard… you’ll have to earn my trust back,” he explained a little calmer. They all froze in horror. King told him… of course he did. He'd have to be a fool not to.

“These gifts have conditions attached. Morality you can get back to your own age with good behavior, the reverse is true as well though. Logic your voice can not speak ill of the king and what you do say about him will find it’s way to us.

Any and all communication to the king must go through me. You remember my shadow?” the creature in question appeared next to Virgil.

“He'll… assist you when I am with the king. Ask him if you need to ask me or king something. Oh and fair warning….” Suddenly they all fell to the ground. Crushed by guilt and fear and desperation.

“I’ll do anything to protect Thomas from having to live without us ever again. I won‘t permit you to anger the king. Understood?”

They all nodded as they whipped at their tears.

“Good. Dismissed.” When they looked up Virgil was gone. Only his shadow remained. The creature stared back at them looking heartbroken. “I’m sorry,” it whispered.

“This… might be the worst possible thing,” Logan muttered as he helped Patton up. While the two oldest sides discussed their situation Janus stared in horror at the tragic looking shadow.

How could he have let this happen?

 Janus opened his eyes. He was sweating, his heart was racing. What was real, what was a dream? He looked around. He was in his room. He got up to his knees and tapped a rhythm neither he or his neighbor had heard in years. Virgil used to wake up from nightmares like this. Not sure about reality and scared to leave his room. So they came up with a system. Notes weren't an option when you didn't want to turn on the light and alert Remus someone was awake to play with him. So they made up their version of Morse code.

‘What is going on' was always the start of such a conversation. It was just a long series of rapid light knocks. The first reaction, ‘I hear you' was a flat palm against the door. Then you wait for the other to respond. Virgil's response was quicker than he expected.

‘Patton. Small. Logan. Silent. Twins. One.’

Janus nodded. He hadn't dared to hope that all of it was a dream.

‘you?’ he asked. Though he doubted if Virgil could know what to tell him to assure him he wasn't currently being tutored by king. ‘Scared. Confused. Angry. Sad.’

Janus bit his lip. Virgil didn't use the code for pupil. If there was any real plan like in his nightmare Virgil would mention it. He’d been on the other side of these conversations often enough. Yes, everything was… well not fine but not as horrible as he'd feared. All he had to do to keep his dream from happening was not leave Virgil alone with the king. And… maybe figure out how to tell Virgil what had happened all these years ago.

Janus got ready to knock. There was a knock that meant to convey empathy. To be a comforting reminder that Virgil was not alone. But halfway through he remembered another pattern. One Virgil would always close the conversation with. It was almost an alternative for goodnight in these conversations. But it meant ‘Sorry’. Janus' scales stung with the thought of that word. But if he knocked the pattern… it wasn't the same right?

He took a deep breath and started out with: ‘Thanks.’ He readied his hand it was just three knocks long… But the very thought was agony

‘Welcome. Good night.’

Janus sighed as he heard the reply. Perhaps another time.

‘Good night.’

@moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @antiredhuman

[ibijau]

Futures past pt10 / on AO3

Nie Huaisang gets in a bit of trouble with Jin Zixun

A week after returning from Yunping City, Nie Huaisang still hadn’t had a single chance to spend time with Su She, which was starting to thoroughly annoy him. His friend had been punished for getting into a fight with one of the guest students, and so hadn’t had time at all for Nie Huaisang. At the same time, Lan Xichen had been too busy to actually give those promised music lessons yet, though they had decided on a date for the first one which Lan Xichen has promised he would free himself for. But even with this to look forward to, Nie Huaisang still felt lonely and missed his actual friend.

Which meant that when one afternoon he found Su She waiting for him at the door of the classroom at the end of the day’s lecture, Nie Huaisang was thrilled. There was a lot he wanted to chat about with Su She, and some candies he’d bought in Yunping City to share, and he had to announce that he too was learning music now, and…

“What’s that merchant’s son doing here again?” Jin Zixun asked, pushing Nie Huaisang to the side so he could get to the door first, planting himself in front of Su She. “Hey, what are you doing here? Got something to sell this time?”

Nie Huaisang froze.

He didn’t like Jin Zixun.

Of course, that didn’t mean much. Everyone disliked Jin Zixun, as far as he could tell. The other guest students didn’t like him. The teachers didn’t like him. Even the other Jin kids who’d come with him didn’t like him, and only pretended otherwise when he was around to threaten them. Apparently his uncle and his cousin liked him well enough but they were the only ones, while his aunt preferred to see as little of him as possible, for obvious reasons.

Nobody liked Jin Zixun, but nobody could really stand up to him either, except some of the older Lan disciples, the Lan Jades if they were around, and of course Lan Qiren who remained convinced he could turn even that bully into a decent person and wouldn't put up with misbehaviour from anyone.

Su She, who already stood at the bottom of the pecking order in his own sect, couldn't do much when harassed by someone like that. He still had a faint bruise on the side of his face from his last encounter with Jin Zixun, but just clenched his fists and gritted his teeth and didn't dare say anything. It was what worked when other Lans teased him, he’d told Nie Huaisang before. It was what all Lans were taught to do when confronted with someone rude who tried to bully them.

But Jin Zixun was no Lan, and laughed at this demonstration of fortitude.

“So, are you selling or buying?” he mocked, pushing Su She around. “If you’re buying, I know where you can get pills to improve your cultivation. Then maybe it won’t be so obvious to everyone that you’re just a merchant’s son, right? Or maybe they will. The love of gold never goes away, right?”

“You’d know that, being a Jin,” someone said.

To Nie Huaisang’s consternation, the person turned out to be himself.

It was just that someone had to say something, right? And the teacher, that day, wasn’t Lan Qiren. If it had been, Jin Zixun would never have dared to behave like this, Nie Huaisang knew. But it was another Lan elder who had taught them, one who’d given them a few lectures before and whose attitude had made it clear he thought it beneath him to teach a bunch of outsiders. He’d never intervened before when there had been skirmishes between them unless they got too loud, and it was unlikely he’d come to the defence of a Lan disciple he probably also saw as unworthy. So someone had to do something.

Nie Huaisang hated being the one having to do anything.

He hated it even more when Jin Zixun swirled around toward him, one arm raised to punch him in the face…

But the punch didn’t come. Jin Zixun was a bully but he wasn’t an idiot, so he just grabbed Nie Huaisang by the collar, lifting him up just enough that Nie Huaisang had to stand on his toes.

“What did you just say?” Jin Zixun asked. “Do you have something to say about my family?”

Nie Huaisang shook his head, mostly out of sheer terror. Then, figuring that if Jin Zixun was going to punch him he would already have done so, Nie Huaisang found some courage and nodded.

“I’m saying Lanling Jin was founded by a merchant,” he squeaked. “And you’re right about this at least, the love of gold doesn’t ever leave.”

Technically, the venerable ancestor of Lanling Jin had been the son of a merchant and a rogue cultivator, and his mercantile father had only provided funds while his mother had helped in every other aspect of creating the sect, but it was irrelevant. Nie Huaisang, who only cared about history if it sounded like gossip, had just memorised the fun parts of that story, the bits he could use against the next Jin who'd have called him the son of a butcher. 

Using that piece of history to insult Jin Zixun wasn't bad either. 

Of course after such an attack on his sect's honour, Jin Zixun again raised his fist, ready to strike. But again, he lowered it quickly, and instead just shook Nie Huaisang violently, making him dizzy. If it had been anyone else Jin Zixun wouldn't have hesitated to hurt them, but only a complete fool would have risked Nie Mingjue's ire over such a small matter. 

"You're only playing tough because of your brother," Jin Zixun spat.

"And you're doing the same with your uncle," Nie Huaisang replied while trying to gesture at Su She to leave. "Except I'm sure my brother would stand with me. Are you sure of Jin zongzhu?" 

Su She, instead of making his escape, crept closer. He had a worrying glint in his eyes, as if he might try to attack Jin Zixun to rescue Nie Huaisang. Considering how badly Su She had been scolded after his previous brush with Jin Zixun when everyone agreed that he'd probably been the victim, and with several of his teachers already disliking him… 

Nie Huaisang gestured more urgently at Su She to go, which was made difficult when Jin Zixun resumed shaking him. 

"You little son of a whore, you're just…" 

"Don't you dare talk about my mom!" Nie Huaisang shouted, all other worries burned under instantaneous rage. "Not when you don't even know who your dad is!"

He realised, a little late, that it was probably the worst thing he could have said.

Jin Zixun's fist connected with his face. Nie Huaisang felt and heard his nose make a crushing noise, causing a pain intense enough that he promptly fainted.

-

When Nie Huaisang started coming to, he was in a quiet place, nearly silent save for the respiration of another person nearby. With some effort he opened his eyes to a room that wasn’t his quarters at home, nor his cabin in the Cloud Recesses. Judging by the style of that room and the unbearable silence, he guessed he was still in the Cloud Recesses, but in a part he hadn’t visited yet. Considering that his face hurt a lot less than it should have after being punched like that, Nie Huaisang guessed he had to be in the infirmary. 

Nie Mingjue was going to be so annoyed. His stance had always been that fights weren’t bad if they were righteous, but he expected his disciples and relatives to come out of them victorious. To be taken down in just one blow was embarrassing, and it meant Nie Huaisang would be subjected to so much training when he got home, so he wouldn't lose so fast next time he fought someone. And then, Lan Qiren too would probably have something to say about this incident once he heard about it. No private fights was pretty high on the list of Gusu Lan's rules.

Nie Huaisang, whose back had just recovered from the punishment he’d received after Yunping City, sighed deeply.

“Nie-xiong, you’re awake!”

Turning his head, Nie Huaisang realised that the person whose respiration he’d noticed was none other than Su She, who was kneeling next to his bed and had a rather fresh looking new bruise on his face.

“Tell me you didn’t fight with Jin Zixun,” Nie Huaisang sighed, only to wince when speaking caused some new pain on his face.

“I didn’t fight him! But everyone else was too slow to rescue you, and he was going to punch you again! So I put myself between you and him to protect you.”

“That might be even more stupid than fighting him,” Nie Huaisang mumbled, trying to move his lips as little as possible. Trying not to smile, also. Aside from his brother, nobody had ever taken a hit for him before, and it touched him more than he could have said. “Are you ok? They aren’t going to punish you, right?”

“Jin gongzi said it was our fault and the Jins backed him,” Su She said, looking down at his knees. “The Nies say that Jin gongzi struck unprovoked. Everyone else says they didn’t really see and hear anything, because they're cowards and they know Jin gongzi will target them if they don't stay out of it. So for now it’s probably just you and Jin gongzi that will be punished for fighting, unless you agree that I also caused it.”

“But you didn’t, it was all me,” Nie Huaisang said, sighing again. “He shouldn’t have said that about my mom, but saying that about his dad, that wasn't too smart either I guess. My mom was an honourable woman, and all the rumours are just fake, but Jin Zixun…”

He sighed once more, while Su She threw him a puzzled look.

“Wait, you don’t know, for Jin Zixun?” Nie Huaisang asked, wriggling on the bed until he was on his side and could look more easily at Su She. “I figured everyone had heard that one.”

“Gossip is forbidden,” Su She replied. Somehow, he made it sound both like a scolding and a request for details.

Whatever faint guilt Nie Huaisang had felt for having thrown something like that at Jin Zixun’s face evaporated at the perspective of being the first one to share a juicy scandal with someone else. 

Before he could get started with that particularly awful story, the door to the infirmary opened so a few people could come in. Nie Huaisang hurriedly returned to laying on his back and put on his most pitiful expression. He didn’t even have to force himself too much. His nose really did hurt, and his cultivation just wasn’t good enough to help with that. As for Su She, he jumped to his feet so he could politely bow before Lan Xichen, Lan Qiren, and another inner clan Lan who Nie Huaisang guessed to be a doctor, a certain Li Fang he learned later. 

"You can stay," Li Fang told Su She when he saw him trying to leave. "I'm sure your teachers can spare you, while your friend needs you."

Su She frowned, trying to find hidden insults in those words as always, but still obeyed and went to stand a little out of the way. Meanwhile the other three came to stand around Nie Huaisang's bed, making him feel just a little cornered. Lan Xichen, to his credit, was smiling in a comforting manner, but it did little to offset Lan Qiren's very severe expression. 

"I know I shouldn't have done that," Nie Huaisang quickly mumbled. "But he shouldn't have either, and he was trying to make way worse trouble than what happened."

"And so you took it upon yourself to play the hero," Lan Qiren said, stroking his beard. 

"Nobody else was doing anything," Nie Huaisang whispered. 

"The teacher should have intervened before it got this far," Lan Qiren conceded, sounding irritated at his fellow teacher. Maybe he was. That man, Lan Xingyu, was despised by all of the guest disciples and by Su She, though the same Su She claimed inner disciples liked him well enough. "After reviewing this and other incidents, Lan Xingyu will no longer teach guest students. And Jin gongzi should not have reacted with violence to your taunt. Still, because you did taunt him, you are both at fault, and will both be punished."

"More beatings?" Nie Huaisang whined. His poor body couldn't take much more pain, he would die for sure if he was beaten again. 

"Not this time," Lan Qiren said. "But for a week you and Jin gongzi will kneel together in the discipline hall after lessons every day, and then again for a shichen after dinner. At the end of it, I expect both of you to have reflected on your faults and to make sincere excuses." 

That sounded pretty boring and awful, Nie Huaisang thought, but probably less painful than the discipline rulers, so he could deal with it. And making an apology didn't bother him, he was pretty good at those since his brother and him argued frequently. 

"I will also demand an essay on how you should have dealt with this situation," Lan Qiren added, and that was such a torture that Nie Huaisang whined. "If you do not wish to be punished, then act appropriately." 

"And don't pick fights if you can't win them," Li Fang added. Nie Huaisang could have sworn he saw the man roll his eyes in a very un-Lan manner. "You're lucky your friend was here, or your face might be in a worse state than this. As it is, your nose should be fully healed in a week or two, and it will look mostly the same as before." 

Mostly was not exactly, and Nie Huaisang couldn't help the wave of despair that washed over him. He liked his face. He wasn't the most handsome person in the world, but now that puberty was starting to set in and he was getting closer to forming a golden core, he thought he didn't look half bad. A normal person could probably have pulled off a broken nose, but for a cultivator… 

"Oh, true, let's not forget about this," Lan Xichen said, before turning around to look at Su She. 

Su She, always suspicious whenever he attracted attention from his elders or from inner clan disciples, startled at being addressed and gave a quick bow. 

"Shidi, thank you for protecting Nie gongzi," Lan Xichen said with a smile that might almost have passed for sincere. "I will make sure to mention it when we inform Nie zongzhu of the incident. I'm certain he will be happy to hear his brother has made such a loyal friend." 

Even though it hurt his face, Nie Huaisang couldn't help a faint grin. He hadn't been sure Lan Xichen would keep his word about being more fair to Su She, but he figured even just something like this counted as a first step. Su She, for his part, was so surprised to be complimented that he could only bow again while trying to think of something to answer. 

"Lan gongzi is too kind," he said after his bow, throwing a glance at Nie Huaisang who pretended not to notice. "I know I also failed to act appropriately, and so Jin gongzi was hurt by my fault. I will do better next time." 

"I'm sure nobody would punish you because Jin gongzi bruised his knuckles on your cheekbone," Li Fang scoffed. Su She said nothing, only averting his eyes, but that was an answer in itself. "Really? Under what excuse?" 

"Teacher Lan Xingyu said I should have better deflected the attack instead of taking the hit. I also had no reason to be there at that moment, and should have been practicing cultivation instead of socialising." 

If he hadn't been in pain, and already in so much trouble his brother was going to murder him when he got home, Nie Huaisang would have cried out in outrage at this unfair assessment. The others looked just as startled, and even Lan Xichen seemed to be genuinely unhappy to hear about this. Li Fang in particular appeared quite aggravated by the news, perhaps because he too was an outer disciple.

"Some things don't change," Li Fang said with a sharp look at Lan Qiren who also looked annoyed. "I'm pretty sure we have rules about that."

Nie Huaisang had the impression of an entire conversation silently happening, one that perhaps the two men had had many times before. This impression was strengthened by Lan Xichen somewhat hopeful expression, and his brief smile when his uncle gave in. 

"We do have rules, and I will talk to Lan Xingyu," Lan Qiren said. "It cannot hurt to remind teachers that they are not exempt from following our principles, and must be an example to younger generations." 

"Good, go do that," Li Fang ordered with good humour. "And if old man Xingyu makes trouble for you, just tell me. I wouldn't mind having a chat with him either, if you'll let me." 

Lan Qiren did not grace that comment with an answer. He took his leave, followed by his nephew. Su She too tried to leave, but Li Fang insisted he could stay longer, and even told him that if elders made trouble for him again, Su She should complain to him about it. They might not be part of the inner clan, he said, but they were still Lan disciples, they followed the same rules, and deserved to be treated with as much respect. 

That was something Su She himself said often, of course. But hearing it from someone of an older generation, and one as respectable as a doctor, appeared to shake him up. If his face hadn't hurt so bad, Nie Huaisang would have grinned. He couldn't regret getting punched in the face if it might have finally given Su She an ally inside his sect. 

Still, even with that good news, Su She found something to be unhappy about.

"I told you not to involve Lan gongzi," he complained as soon as Li Fang went to deal with other things in another part of the infirmary. "Now that it gets known I've complained…" 

Nie Huaisang shrugged, shifting on his bed to try and find a comfortable position. Gusu Lan beds really were too hard for his tastes.

"I didn't say anything, so don't blame me for this," Nie Huaisang said. "Maybe Lan gongzi just decided to finally uphold the ideals of his sect after seeing what a loyal and morally upright person you are."

"Surely you can lie better than that." 

"Not when I'm in pain," Nie Huaisang said. He poked gently at his nose and winced. The pain was one thing, but feeling how it had tripled in size was a true horror. “Oh no. Tell me the truth, Su-xiong. Am I ugly now?”

Su She scoffed, fighting a smile. 

“Is that really what you care about right now?”

“My good looks are my only quality! How will I ever find love if I’m not handsome anymore?”

“Then I promise you that your chances of finding love are exactly the same as before.”

Nie Huaisang beamed, smiling as much as he could when his face hurt like that. It took him a moment to notice Su She’s expression, after which he repeated his friend’s words to himself.

“Hey! That’s mean!” Nie Huaisang whined. “I sacrificed my amazing beautifulness for you, and that’s how you repay me? Rude, very rude! Su-xiong, you’re the worst best friend I’ve ever had.”

Su She went very still for a moment, before a light blush crept over his face. 

"How many other best friends have you had before me?" 

"None. I was holding on for someone really great, and then I met you at last." 

"You're an idiot," Su She grumbled. 

"Maybe. But I'm your idiot best friend, right?" 

Su She scoffed, but still nodded, averting his eyes almost shyly. Nie Huaisang beamed. 

He'd been wondering for a while now, but now he was sure of it: he had to have misunderstood when his future self mentioned Su She, because there was just no way his best friend would ever become a bad person.

[misslilli]

It'll get better soon guys, don't worry 🤗

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 24 - It Takes A Village

[ Felix ]

It’s close to December and my favorite holiday is coming up fast, the lights are already up all around town and in school we make paper snowmen and sing Christmas songs. It’s supposed to be the most cheerful time of the year, but people in my life are sad, which in turn also puts a damper on my Christmas spirit.

Dad is not doing very well, he’s working all the time and doesn’t say much, he just goes through the motions of our day. One day, he just forgets to pick me up from school because he has worked through the night and fell asleep at the dining room table during the day.

Principal Skinner can’t reach him or my mom, who is in Europe right now, so he calls my other emergency contact, my grandma. I don’t know what exactly he tells her, but she’s coming all the way from Connecticut and the Principal will drive me home to check on my dad.

I’m excited that grandma’s coming, she’s really awesome! She’s straightforward and very, very strict and doesn’t like to cuddle, much, but her no-nonsense way of running a household may be exactly what we need right now. And she also makes a mean lasagna!

When we get to the house, dad is beside himself, apologizing to us over and over again for falling asleep and he looks a little relieved when Principal Skinner tells him that grandma is coming over to help.

I launch myself at her - I’m permitted exactly two hugs, one hello and one goodbye - when she walks through the door and immediately try to get her to make lasagna for dinner. She sends me up to my room to play for a bit, while she talks to dad and cleans up the mess in the kitchen. Afterwards, she really makes lasagna, yes!

——————

[ Teena ]

When I got the call from Principal Skinner, I was very worried about what I’d find when I got to the house, I’ve been called to pick up the pieces only once before.

It was after Diana left Fox and Felix and what I found then was a disoriented and confused three-year old who kept asking for his mom and a devastated dad and husband, unable to care for his child in his own heartbreak.

Thankfully, it’s not that bad this time, but I can tell that something has happened. Fox has been avoiding my calls for weeks now, only having Felix talk to me over the phone. I know that Sam knows something, but she wouldn’t tell me no matter how hard I pressed.

So the first thing I do when I get to the boys’s house is send Felix off to his room and sit down my son onto the couch to talk.

“Tell me what happened, Fox.”

And he goes on to me the whole story, from the first day of school where he met a woman that had upended both of their lives, to the birthday party - Sam has actually told me about that one, I thought it was a really sweet story - and the Halloween fair right up until the Basketball fiasco and the last time he saw her, where she asked him to give her some space until she has figured some things out.

“What do I do now mom? I hate myself for scaring her off like that and I can’t stop the tailspin of thinking I’m not good enough for her anyway, with that broken mess that’s our family…”

“I’ll tell you what to do now. You give her space like she asked you to and you get your act together in the meantime. Felix needs you to take care of him, it won’t do to wallow in self-pity. And ask yourself this: How can you expect someone to love you if you don’t love yourself? Go see Connie and fix your self-worth issues because you’re a good man and you absolutely deserve someone who makes you happy.”

“Thanks mom, for everything. I’ve already scheduled extra therapy lessons with Connie. You know what makes this whole thing even harder? I have to see her every damn day at school when I pick up Felix.”

“I’ll pick him up from now on. You focus on yourself, without distractions.” Maybe I’ll even get to meet her, I’m fairly curious about this Rainbow Woman myself.

—————

[ Felix ]

At recess in school, everyone’s on their best behavior, holding their collective breaths because Miss Scully is in a bad mood today. Actually, she’s been irritable for the past two weeks, with a very short fuse and absolutely no tolerance for disobedience.

Since her classroom is right next to ours, we can sometimes hear her yell at her kids for something or other and even our class flinches when it happens.

Right now, she’s over at the playground, leaning into two boys who have gotten into a fist-fight over a game of tag and I’m silently glad I’m sitting over here with Miss Anderson. I look up at my teacher, curious.

“Miss Anderson, why is Miss Scully so angry all the time?”

“I can’t tell you, Felix, I’m sorry.”

“Because you don’t know, or because you don’t want me to know?” When she changes the subject pointedly, I know it’s the second one. ‘Ugh, why don’t adults tell children anything, it’s driving me crazy! Dad won’t tell me anything and now this.’

Grandma picks me up again today and on our way to the car, we run into Miss Scully. 'Uh oh, I hope she doesn’t go off on grandma, I don’t think that will go over very well.’ My grandma can be scary sometimes, too!

“Hey Miss Scully, this is my grandma, she’s staying with us for a while now! Grandma, this is Miss Scully, she’s the fourth-grade teacher.”

——————

[ Teena ]

I’m happy to see that my son has raised Felix to be a polite child when he introduces the tiny red-head I’ve heard so much about.

“Grandma’s not actually my name, Felix. I’m Teena Mulder, it’s nice to meet you Miss Scully!” Holding out my hand, I try to seize her up.

Her handshake is firm and her posture is ram-rod-straight, all professional, but her eyes betray her poised exterior, because I can see flashes of sadness when she looks down at Felix. I can only guess that she’s not having an easy time with everything, herself.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Mulder. I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got an appointment to get to. I’ll see you tomorrow, Felix. Goodbye, Mrs. Mulder.”

With that, she’s off to get her bike and Felix breathes a sigh of relief.

“Whew, thank God, she didn’t get mad at you like she got mad at the two boys at recess today.”

I’m a bit puzzled by his odd statement, but on the car ride, he tells me all about the incident in great detail. I get the feeling that these stories are a staple in the boys’s days and I can begin to understand why my son would rather not hear Felix go on and on about what she did and what she said right now.

—————

[ DS ]

My therapist has told me that it has to get worse before it gets better, but this is getting ridiculous. I can’t sleep more than a few hours at night, which leaves me irritable in the morning and with an incredibly short fuse at school, going off on my kids for the littlest infractions.

They’re so terrified and confused, they end up making even more mistakes, which in turn sets me off even more - it’s a vicious circle that leaves me frustrated with myself and more times that I’d like to admit to, I’ve lost it in the teacher’s bathroom.

Meeting Mrs. Mulder today was unexpected and I tried hard to keep it together for a few minutes, but I can’t stand looking at Felix’s innocent face for a longer period of time, so I bolted right after the introductions.

I actually did have an appointment, with my therapist, and today she suggested I write down my feelings in a journal to get them off my chest and reflect on them.

During the night, I wake after only a few hours of sleep spent tossing and turning. Unable to fall back asleep for yet another night, I drag myself our of bed and downstairs, turning the TV in the living room, hoping it’ll lull me back to sleep.

“10 things I hate about you” is on and by the time Julia Stiles recites her poem, I’m bawling into a pillow. I remember the homework I’ve been given, so I grab a piece of paper and a pen and begin writing.

“Miss Scully’s list of 10 things I hate about you”

The words of the title swim before my eyes as I scribble my feelings onto the patient paper. The poem I write is slightly different from the one in the movie, but writing it all out really does help.

I fold the paper up carefully and toss it in the trash before heading back up to bed.

[lalainajanes]

For the square “water park” on my Klarosummerbingo card! Might be my worst title ever but it’s actually better than the original one so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Slip and Slide

Caroline speedwalks through the lobby, weaving around people who seem to think it’s the appropriate place for an early morning stroll. “Hold the elevator!” she calls, ignoring the few disgruntled looks she receives.

She hadn’t been that loud, and she’s nearly late for a critical meeting. It’s the first one with a new client, and she’d hate to make a bad first impression.

She’d had to head to the dry cleaners before work, had gotten caught in a traffic snarl in an area she wasn’t that familiar with, and it had taken her way too long to figure out the detour. She should have left her place earlier.

She gets to the security gates, juggling a garment bag, her briefcase, and a portfolio. Her ID seems to be just out of reach, and she jams her hand further into her purse. Albert, her favorite guard, murmurs, “Take a breath, Ms. Forbes.”

She blows one out, frustrated. Rolls her shoulders in an attempt to relax. “Sorry. I’m just…”

“Stressed? I can tell.”

Yikes. Caroline hopes that doesn’t mean her hair has exploded.

She smiles weakly, “Big day today.”

A brand new project, after the last one had been a disaster. Caroline’s comfortable with stress, thrives on high stakes, but she could totally use a win.

Her fingers touch the familiar edge of her badge, and she pulls it out triumphantly. She taps it on the sensor, walks through the revolving gate. “Good luck, Ms. Forbes,” Alfred murmurs as she passes.

It’s a little thing, but Caroline feels a little better knowing someone’s rooting for her.

She’s relieved to spot that one of the elevators is open, a man holding the door, his eyes on her. She doesn’t recognize him, but that doesn’t mean anything. The building has 55 floors, offices for more than two dozen companies within it. He’s dressed in a suit, like the vast majority of the men she sees in the building. His is nicer than most, charcoal grey, perfectly fitted, with a very subtle pinstripe that she only notices when she gets closer. Caroline hurries into the car gratefully. She leans forward, punches 32. “Thank you so much,” she says to him, turning so they’re shoulder to shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver.”

The man on her other side makes a noise, a tiny scoff. Caroline glances at him quizzically. He’s stoic, eyes forward, but she’s sure there’s a hint of amusement on his face.

An arm brushes against hers, drawing her attention. “Feel free to ignore him,” the man who’d held the elevator says. His voice is low, smooth and she’d be charmed by the accent if they’d met in a social situation.

Or any situation, if she’s honest.

“My brother would probably describe me as more of a troublemaker.”

Huh. She hadn’t have figured brothers. They’ve both got attractive and well-dressed going for them but little other familial resemblance. Caroline’s head swings back, “Are you a trouble maker?”

His amusement is plain. His full lips curl, and deep dimples appear in his cheeks.

Oh yeah. Definitely a trouble maker.

“I’m about twenty minutes early for my meeting today; how much of a trouble maker can I be?” His tone is playful, a touch too innocent to be believed.

Damn it. Caroline does not have time for an attractive man this morning. At least she hadn’t changed into the frumpier outfit in the garment bag. Hopefully, she’ll run into this guy again.

“I think I need more info. Could be a one-time thing. I’m almost late for my meeting, which is wildly out of character.”

“Not the trusting sort, are you?”

Caroline shrugs, raising her brows expectantly.

He laughs briefly, “Well, I did send an email ahead to inquire about the coffee preferences of the team I’m meeting. I’m stopping at one of the cafes to pick it up now. Would a troublemaker do that?”

“Hmm, maybe. Could be an underhanded tactic to get on a good side before the trouble starts.”

Dimples’ brother chimes in again, dry this time. “I believe your assistant sent that email. And that she learned the practice from my assistant.”  

Dimples glowers, and Caroline must admit this is a delightful distraction from her anxiety. She glances up at the panel above the door and is disappointed to find they’re almost on her floor. “If you’re going to the café on 36, I recommend the oatmeal raisin cookies. Most people go chocolate chip. Trust me, that’s a mistake.”

The elevator pings, the doors sliding open. Caroline smiles, hitches her briefcase higher on her shoulder. “This is me. Thanks again.”

The receptionist spots Caroline, stands up, a sheaf of papers in her hands, and Caroline’s reminded about how much she has to do. She hurries out, her heels clicking across the shiny tiles of the lobby.

She still glances back at the elevator, can’t help smiling, pleased, when she finds her new friend from the elevator watching her as the doors close.

Even if she never sees him again, he’d made her morning a little brighter.

Now, though, it’s time to work.

* * * * *

Fifteen minutes later, Caroline’s pacing in her office. She’s pinned her hair back and changed into the purple pantsuit she’d picked up at the dry cleaners. It’s a great color but not the most flattering fit. The pants are fine, but the jacket’s boxy, and she’s wearing a plain pink blouse underneath, buttoned to her throat, a thick silver necklace threaded through the collar. There’s a pair of glasses perched on her nose, and she’d changed into sensible flats.

She’d learned her lesson last time, at the first meeting where she’d been the project lead. She’d been called ‘Honey’ and other more annoying pet names and asked to serve coffee and fetch snacks. She’d received skepticism when she’d introduced herself. By the end of that first meeting, Caroline had wanted to scream her credentials – a B.A. and a Master’s in Civil Engineering, a whole pile of certifications, several prestigious internships, and stellar work references, thank you very much – at most of the people in the room.

Ultimately, the project had been successful, but Caroline had experienced frequent bursts of frustration that bordered on rage. Her suggestions were met with questions that made it clear her intelligence was doubted, her corrections with condescension, even though she’d usually been the only one in the room with any significant scientific expertise.

Expertise that’s kind of crucial in designing a water park. It wouldn’t have been a good look, or a sound investment, if guests were to end up injured or dead after paying exorbitant ticket prices and expecting a fun day.

Her skin has thickened considerably, but Caroline hopes that’s less necessary this time. Her boss had assured her that this job would be easier, and Caroline’s choosing to believe her. It’s even potentially exciting – these clients own several international resorts, the park she’s pitching on will be built in Spain.

Being project leader, she’d traveled to oversee construction on the nightmare build, but Tennessee doesn’t carry quite the same appeal as the Spanish coast, at least from the photos Caroline’s seen.

At the very least, it can’t be a worse experience. She hopes.

She hears Katherine coming her way, takes a final deep breath before Kat breezes into her office. “What are you wearing?” Kat asks, sounding both mystified and vaguely disgusted. She pauses in front of Caroline, fingers pinching her lapel and tugging. “Is this polyester?”

“Maybe. I thrifted it.”

Katherine’s face twists in the sort of revulsion one would expect if Caroline confessed to grave robbing the ensemble.

“Ew, why?”

“Figured I needed a costume. To make sure that this time, no one in there thinks to call me ‘sweet cheeks.’”

She’d been paired with another designer last time, Matt Donovan, who was a nice enough guy but had been pretty useless in the having her back department. Caroline likely wouldn’t have cried into her Ben and Jerry’s quite so often had Katherine been her partner. Kat has the unique and impressive ability to make demands and issue orders and have people thank her for it.

Kat snorts, “Elijah Mikaelson would never. He’s aggressively polite. I haven’t spoken to him yet, but I doubt Niklaus would either. I assume he has the same hot accent.”

That’s a new name. Caroline doesn’t like surprises. “And who is Niklaus?”

“A brother. And a business partner. He wasn’t originally scheduled to be here but is unexpectedly in town. What do you think the British equivalent to sweet cheeks is?”

Caroline’s eyes go wide, a few puzzle pieces clicking together. British brothers, twenty minutes early for a meeting. What are the odds?

Crap. Had she been flirting with a client? In front of another client?

There’s a tap at the door, her boss’ assistant’s head poking in, “They’re ready for you in the conference room.”

Ugh. Maybe she’s cursed.

* * * * * 

The presentation goes fantastically.

Katherine had been correct – the Mikaelsons don’t seem to labor under the misapprehension that a conventionally attractive blonde woman can’t grasp complex concepts. They’d shaken her hand when she’d arrived; Niklaus (or Klaus, as he apparently prefers) had looked a bit puzzled when they’d been introduced, Caroline had chalked that up to the outfit. He’d said it was nice to see her again. Explaining her mad dash to the elevator, and Klaus’ assistance, to the room had broken the ice nicely.

Kat kicks them off, and her design is gorgeous; Elijah and Klaus appear suitably impressed. When it’s Caroline’s turn, her nerves fall away by her second PowerPoint slide. She knows her stuff backward and forward, and she’s incredibly pleased with her innovation.

She also begins to feel less bad about the flirting once she sees that Kat throws Elijah a few looks that are borderline inappropriate for the office (that he seems pretty pleased with).

They ask questions, pour over the mock-ups and technical drawings Caroline and Katherine had prepared. Their ideas are actually good, which is a nice contrast for the last project. She’d done far too much lying and finessing to attempt to steer the previous park into a less terrible direction. The Mikaelsons have far fewer notes than Caroline had anticipated, and she promises to put together an update ASAP. They schedule another meeting.

She thinks Klaus’ handshake lingers when they say goodbye, but maybe she’s just riding high on adrenaline and imagining things.

She kind of hopes she isn’t. It’s probably too messy to date a client, but a girl can fantasize, can’t she?

Caroline helps herself to the cookie tray, pleased by the generous helping of oatmeal raisin she finds. Kat’s disappeared, but she knows their boss will want to debrief. Caroline collapses into one of the conference chairs, pulls out her phone to check her messages.

She replies to a few emails before she notices one that’s just arrived.

 Hello Caroline,

I enjoyed your presentation today. I look forward to the next.

Warmly,

Klaus

 She grins to herself, slumps lower in her chair. Clearly, she hadn’t imagined anything if Klaus is emailing her when he’s barely out of the building. She takes a risk and sends a slightly more casual reply than she’d usually attempt at this point.

If he reacts badly, she can up the formality later on. If he doesn’t, well… she’s only fostering a good working relationship. That’ll be essential if they land this contract.

And she’s like 90% sure it’s in the bag.

 Hi Klaus,

Thank you!

The photos your team sent over of the location were gorgeous; both Kat and I were inspired. I think this is some of our best work to date. I’m excited to dive into the updates and meet again next week.

Best,

Caroline

P.S. Thanks for the cookies.

His reply comes minutes later.

Caroline,

I believe it. Your work is impressive, as I’m sure your new ideas will be. Have you ever been to Spain? The pictures hardly do it justice.

Warmly,

Klaus

P.S. You’re welcome. Which coffee order was yours?

 Well, that’s the opposite of a bad reaction.

Caroline sets her phone aside, tells herself she has to be smart here. She’s reasonably sure she’s not doing anything that’s prohibited. The emails will speak for themselves, and they live on the company server. Neither she nor Klaus are offering anything untoward for the contract. If things go well, she may just have to fill out an HR disclosure form. She’ll double-check the firm’s code of conduct.

Just in case.

[whump-town]

The Safe Side

No pairings

No warnings (surprising, I know)

Hotch is getting older and that scares the shit out of Reid

I probably wouldn't have finished this if not for @genevievedarcygranger

----------------

His only symptom is memory loss.

Reid sees it, he knows it. The symptoms he’s committed to his memory for better or worse dispelled so easily, so regularly before him but he can’t help but entertain his irrational fears. He’s not sure why. It would not be more comforting for Hotch’s occasional forgetfulness to be Alzheimer’s and not age and yet he waits for the moment that proves him wrong. For the phone call that Hotch is dressed for work and trying to get up to the bullpen. That they’ll lose him to anxiety and aggression, he’ll lose his temperament and comforting nature bit-by-bit until he’s broken down. And Reid will lose him too.

The good things become tainted by his fear.

At Christmas, they go to Rossi’s like they always do, and while the others dance to the music softly humming through the room Reid finds himself watching Hotch. Inspecting the grey hairs growing ever more along his temples, spread now through the rest of his hair. They age him appropriately but Reid can’t help but feel betrayed by their presence like he’s being taunted. No different from the reading glasses perched at the very edge of Hotch’s nose, the ones Hank lightly reaches up for. Old enough not to grab at them but still curiously taking a finger to trail their frames. Reid neglects his desire to be closer to them, to be drawn in by Hotch’s deep voice and the crackling fire soothing Hank to sleep. He stays where he is, hearing the ghosting bits of “Where The Wild Things Are” for the third time.

All he hears is science. Proof in the voice’s Hotch uses for each character -- “Oh, please don't go — I'll eat you up — I love you so!” -- that his language center had no inhibitions. The way Hank looks at Hotch when he bellows that line the first time, giggling and writing about when Hotch tickles him and squeezes him up tight so Hank can’t get away is lost to Reid for what it really is. That the spontaneous tickling and the reading mean other things. The love between them and Hank’s adoration for Hotch boiled down to symptoms Reid can prove Hotch doesn’t have.

Reid is terrified and it won’t let it up.

He finds himself panicking in Rossi’s backyard, surrounded by laughing people. Happy people who have no idea what his problem is. But he sweeps his over the clusters of chatting people and realizes that in all the groups he can’t find Hotch. Amidst them, he’s fairly easy to spot. Sticks to what he knows and who he’s most comfortable with. Diplomatic in that he makes sure he talks to everyone once but if he’s going to be someplace he’s not where he should be.

This is it, he tells himself. He’ll find Hotch confused, ambling about alone and where he shouldn’t be. Not sure where he is or why he’s here.

And then Reid turns around and finds Emily sitting with him on the porch swing. One of Hotch’s legs stretched out over the expanse of the porch, dark jeans a contrast to the concrete as he rocks them back and forth. Emily’s head on his shoulder and his arm around her back, a glass of wine passed between them. Neither saying a word as they watch the teams they built interacting with one another, families mixing together.

Reid can’t enjoy their smiles, the way they look out over everyone like proud parents.

Even his own birthday with books in a variety of languages sitting around him wrapped in an array of papers that so brilliantly display who their giver was. With his fingers tracing the one covered in newspaper, the one he knows is from Hotch, Reid is lost to this rot in the pit of his stomach. The sludge that fills his veins with tension. It leaves him the only person not smiling, with no idea what’s happening, when Garcia and Hotch stand over his cake fussing about which direction to light the candles. He misses the finger Hotch swipes through the icing and dollops right on Garcia’s nose. Looks up to watch Garcia retaliate with the same treatment but can’t enjoy it, can’t feel love or ease when the room erupts in laughter and Garcia and Hotch stand there with their icing-covered noses smiling at one another.

He finally finds the courage to mention it to someone, tells Morgan one afternoon when they both end up at Hotch’s house. Morgan is there fixing some wooden stakes in Hotch’s garden and Reid dropping off groceries. Hotch is sleeping off surgery medication, unaware of the hushed conversation being had outside.

“Kid,” Morgan can see it. The terror eating Reid alive. “They just hacked him apart and put him back together, all right? He’s on some strong shit right now. He’ll be fine in a day or two. You’ll see.” Morgan tells him not to worry about it, Hotch has been knocked around his entire life. Nearly sixty years of severe blows to the head and if he manages to walk out of this life with just a sketchy memory then he’s getting off lucky.

But when Hotch stands for too long in a room trying to remember what he was doing or when he can’t provide an answer for how much coffee he’s had or if he needs eggs or if he had the last bowl of oatmeal this morning it scares the shit out of Reid.

Really, Hotch is fine.

Hotch had to write his doctor’s appointments down and he’s constantly needing some sort of surgery to fix whatever old injury is coming back to remind him of his previous offense but he’s his normal actively grouchy self. He never forgets to stop by Reid’s apartment Thursday around noon or his promise to get Henry and Hank from school when no one else can.

That doesn’t mean no one worries about him.

He would hate to know the collapse wasn’t when they started taking note of his fragile health.

Two weeks after his forty-fifth birthday he pulled a muscle in his chest (moving the couch so Jack could get a Hotwheels out from underneath) and JJ had watched him pause during his coffee run to press his palm into the strain. Her mind had filtered through a hundred scenarios to explain the behavior and they’d all ended with his death. Hotch is the kind of person with a puzzle piece life, whose pieces are spread out over the course of years, meant to be collected and put together by only the most detail-oriented. She knew his father had died of a heart attack and Reid only served to reiterate that fact. It was only a pulled muscle but, not for the first time, she felt utterly terrified of how much losing him would hurt.

There’s a string of these awful moments when his humanity, his mortality, is right there for them to witness. And, as strong as they’d like to believe themselves to be, they look away.

He’s fine now, all things considered.

The janky memory thing isn’t all that bad. He has milked it on more than one occasion. It’s how he keeps missing his physical therapy. Although, that has come around to bite him in the ass. He’s supposed to be using this cane they gave him and now someone shows up every week to take him to the appointment so he can’t even play it off like he’s forgotten. Typically it’s Emily or Derek but Garcia’s shown up and Reid even took him once. It’s very annoying. Doesn’t help that there are roughly thirteen people who he might run into in public who know he’s supposed to be using the cane and who will inquire about it or bring it up to someone else.

He hadn’t realized just how many people could get on his case until he’d run into Matt’s wife in the store and after having their brief, polite conversation where he mentioned Reid had called him not that long ago asking for advice on the BAUs current case, she asked about his knee. She said Garcia had been fretting over this last surgery he had and told her about it, she hadn’t thought that much time had passed. Was surprised he was back on his feet. It had taken six hours for him to get the phone call from Garcia and then Emily came over an hour later begging him to just “for the sake of my fucking sanity, Hotch, take it easy”. That’s when Garcia sat down and made him a calendar and he lost his say in matters of his grocery shopping and responsibility to take himself to doctor’s appointments.

He’s since won back grocery shopping. His doctor wrote him a note and Garcia conceded. She’s not stupid enough to toss their schedule for his doctor’s appointments though.

So, though he loathes it, he takes the cane with him when he leaves the house.

He’s learned his lesson. Penelope Garcia is one scary-ass lady who has far more control over him and everyone else than he’d care to realize.

Hotch hears the doorbell, muffled though it is, from outside. He’d known getting down on the ground was a bad idea with the way his knees have been hurting but he’s got zucchini and cucumbers laying out in the sun and while he ignored them yesterday, he knows he need to get them out today. Reid had expressed interest in them and Rossi’s likely to want the zucchini. He also knows Derek offered to take care of this sort of stuff but it’s a too warm Sunday morning and Derek’s likely chasing around a happy toddler.

Besides, he doesn’t have enough tomatoes to compensate for Derek’s work. That being said Derek would come over and do it regardless, he doesn’t mind.

“It’s about to rain,” Reid informs him the second he gets to the door. Hotch watches Reid’s eyes flick to his empty left hand, to the curve of his limp palm where his cane is supposed to be. Unlike the others, Hotch knows Reid will not say anything directly to him. Emily might ask where the cane is and Garcia would insist on going to get it but Reid will just anxiously flicker back and forth between Hotch’s face and his hand. Twisting and worrying until Hotch gets it himself. Which is surprisingly effective.

Hotch hums his agreeance, he could smell it in the air. Can tell it’s going to be a good storm with the shift and strength of the wind coming in. It’ll cool things off for a few hours then bring back the humidity and the mosquitoes with a vengeance.

“Do you think” Reid follows Hotch into the kitchen. He’s careful to keep a distance, not to push Hotch’s pace. He mills about in odd places to compensate their gates, looks at the book sitting on Hotch’s coffee table. “Do you think it’s going to rain a lot?” He’s a genius with the means to figure that out on his own and likely he already knows what he thinks the answer is. Hotch’s opinion is still important.

Hotch is in the fridge, rustling bags around as he finds the bag of vegetables he’s got set aside for Reid. He’s weird about fruits and vegetables, worries about bacteria and things but will eat a Poptart for every meal if given the chance. The logic is irrational but after twenty years of worrying about Reid’s diet, Hotch has finally found a solution to this particular problem.

“No tomatoes,” Hotch promises as he hands the bag over to Reid.

Reid nods, “I don’t like tomatoes.”

“I know.”

Reid takes his bag, smiles as he thinks about what things he can make with what he’s been given. “How much do you think it’ll rain?” he asks again.

Hotch hums, having heard Reid the first time. “It’ll be a good storm,” he figures, “might take out the electricity.” He only adds the last bit as a warning. Reid’s scared of the dark, a fact exacerbated by big storms that knock out the electricity. A common occurrence but no less startling.

“Oh.” Reid worries his lip, looks to the ground and everywhere but where Hotch is.

It’s likely to start soon, the winds really picking up and the sun’s drowned out by thick, rolling clouds. The storm of the century it’s likely not. Hotch doubts it’s even the sort people pull over on the side of the road to wait out but he decides to think it might anyway. Decides to tap Reid’s elbow and motion for him to follow, “come on.” He’s not even really sure where he’s going but it’ll lend a distraction. “Wait out the storm,” Hotch tells him, glancing back to make sure Reid’s following. “I wanna show you something.”

They spend the storm in his office, leaning over an old law school textbook. Reid has an affinity for them. No matter how many times Hotch uses them for a distraction, pulling them down from their dusty shelves, Reid still takes to them like it’s the very first time. He’ll sit for hours reading over the information but, his favorite parts, are how Hotch they are.

The notes he’s scribbled in the margins. Flashes of yellow highlighter. A coffee stain or smudge where his palm moves against not yet dried ink. Notes for cases or classes. Pages he’s dog-eared. They’re lived in, nearly perfect condition biographies. Of course, Reid gravitates to them.

By the time the storm rolls over Reid realizes he’s been alone in the office for hours. Sheepishly, he gets up and looks around. Makes his way through Hotch’s house until Reid finds him on the couch. As soon as Hotch sees him he takes off his reading glasses, placing a bookmark in his book and raising his eyebrow to inquire if Reid needs something.

“I should probably get going.”

Hotch doesn’t miss how suddenly bashful Reid gets, the way he looks down at the floor. “If you’d like,” Hotch won’t encourage him to leave. He spends a lot of time alone. He doesn’t mind have someone floating around. But Reid’s decided he’s overstayed his welcome so he moves cautiously towards the door. Taking his time because he knows Hotch will see him out.

“Be careful,” Hotch tells him as he opens himself up for a hug and Reid flushes a little under the attention but still steps into Hotch’s arms. Hotch gives him the bag of vegetables and frowns at the state of Reid’s hair. “Stop worrying so much,” Hotch fusses and they’re both aware of how parental his tone has gotten as frowns. He can see grey hairs here and there. Maybe not as present as his but there. “Do you want to talk about it? Whatever’s worrying you so much?”

Reid freezes, confused. Ordinarily, he’d give in, Hotch always fixes things but not this time. “I’m okay,” Reid promises.

Hotch doesn’t believe him but Reid’s an adult and Hotch knows when he’s needed Reid will know where to find him. All he can hope is that Reid comes to him if he really needs help. “Alright.”

They nod once more and Reid steps out but he’s not halfway down the driveway when Hotch shouts “I meant it, be careful driving home!”

Reid stops where he is, struck by the oddness of this situation. He made it his entire childhood without this sort of thing. His mother cared that he got home but he didn’t have friends to be out with. Never needed to stop and figure out how to call home and tell her he’d be home late. Now he’s lost his mother and he’s lost Gideon.

And he’s terrified he’ll lose Hotch next.

“I’ll text you when I get home,” he offers, feels silly the second it comes out of his mouth. Like Hotch would care enough for that. Like Hotch won’t be bothered with him texting him. Like Hotch is going to sit there and wait for the text.

Hotch narrows his eyes, “you’d better.”

Because Hotch will sit there and wait for the text.

“Yes, sir.”

Hotch is fine but Reid will keep watching just to be on the safe side.

[boognish-worshipper]

Midnight City AU

it took me forever to decide where to go with this chapter and i was literally getting fed up editing it 😭 i’ve been so busy with all the chaos goin on in my life rn too so yeah writing’s been feeling delayed over all but i decided to just finalize this one for rn and uhhh sorry if it seems funky or shortttt

//Chapter 3: Vanished

The next day, Trevor went back to Sterling Lake Park, after spending the night at Wade’s. He agreed to meet up with him there later, walking around the park with his earbuds in. As he threw himself down on his usual bench, he settled on listening to his usual playlist of his favorite songs. He scrolled through nosedivr once again, taking a photo of the lake. It was foggy, and the thick air sat atop the water. He liked when it was like that. A sturdy drumbeat thumped in his ears, making him feel whole. He paused it briefly, just to change it to a different song that was even louder, but with the lack of music he could now hear the crunch of gravel not too far away. He thought he told Wade to come later on? He looked up from his phone, pulling out an earbud. It was the guy from yesterday.

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

“Where’s Amanda?” He asked, glancing around.

“Uhh she’s.. not here today. I kinda came to see if you were here. I wanna get to know more people at this park if I’m gonna hang ‘round here more I guess.”

“But she doesn’t like me?”

“She don’t gotta know.”

“Well aren’t you Boyfriend of the Year.”

“Oh uh, we aren’t dating yet.”

“Thought she was your girl though.”

“She is, she is. But it’s nothing serious. Not yet. And I don’t know what happened between you guys but you don’t seem that bad, so if I wanna talk to you that’s more of a her problem than me.”

“Huh.”

Today Michael wore an eCola shirt, which was obviously made to resemble their old logo, with blue jeans. He had on a pair of red sneakers this time to match the color of the shirt. They looked slightly newer, compared to the pair he wore yesterday. He dressed nice for such a basic style. Trevor on the other hand, threw on an old, frayed Love Fist t-shirt, and messy jeans. He wore a different pair of boots, some kind of knockoff of a popular name brand. A pair of purple lensed circular glasses sat on his head, the nose pieces caught in his hair.

“So.. uh. Mind if I sit there?”

“Not like I own the bench or anything, go right ahead.”

He cautiously sat next to Trevor, hands in his lap. Trevor started one of his other playlists up again, settling on a mix of Paramore and Green Day. He left an earbud out, just so he wouldn’t be completely rude. He mindlessly scrolled, occasionally looking back at the lake or casting a sideways glance at Michael, who was looking at him funny. Sighing, he paused his music, putting his earbuds away.

“What.”

“I.. nothin’ man. I just, I dunno. What is the point of coming here?”

“It’s a public fuckin’ park man.”

“I know, but you said that you don’t even really like the people here, so what’s the point?”

“There is no ‘point’ to it. I just like time to myself is all. These guys don’t bother me, and I don’t bother them. They only start trouble when they see fit.”

“Ah… I see? What were you listening to by the way?”

Trevor stifled a groan, not really wanting to talk to the guy when he had time to freely plot his scheme.

“Pop punk shit. Ever heard of it?”

“Uh, no? I thought punk wasn’t supposed to be popular. Or fit in. Or whatever.”

“That’s merely the ideology, which I do follow, dear Michael. I just like the sound I guess. You know Paramore?”

“Not really. I don’t listen to that stuff much.”

“Then what the fuck do you listen to?”

“Not sure if it has a genre per say, but I like that song Radioactive goin’ around? Songs that sound like that I guess.”

“You like Imagine Dragons?”

“That’s what they’re called?”

Trevor could only stare at him. Was this guy living under a rock?

“Uh.. yeah. Y’know what- never mind, what else do you listen to?”

“80s music?”

No wonder this guy was unaware of who’s popular now.

“Amanda’s been trying to get me into groups like the 1975. I actually kinda like them.”

Trevor rolled his eyes.

“Of course she did.”

“They’re not that bad to be honest. She likes that weird alternative shit.”

“Yeah, I know. By the way, there is a name for that genre. Indie rock. Can’t stand the stuff.”

“How come?”

“You know, you ask a lotta fuckin’ questions.”

“I’m just tryna understand this shit here. I ain’t in the loop of all these trends.”

“Well, for your information I just find the style to be too slow and whiny for my taste. I like fast, upbeat, wild stuff.”

“Any recommendations then? I wanna impress Amanda by at least knowing one artist off that nosedivr thing she goes on.”

He raised a brow, not really wanting to share anything else knowing he would just repeat it back to her, but he shrugged and continued.

“Alright. Besides pop punk, I like experimental songs. Underground groups. Crystal Castles are my favorite.”

“Never heard of ‘em.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Right.”

“If you want more indie rock shit though, I suggest listening to I don’t know, the Arctic Monkeys? That seems more like her taste.”

“These bands have such weird names.”

“I think bands have always been like that.”

“Hey wait a sec, I thought you didn’t like that stuff? How do you know the name of one of those groups?”

“Ugh… I guess I might as well say it if you’re gonna get with her, but we were friends at some point. She introduced me to those bands, but even then I didn’t really like it. We had a stupid falling out I’d rather not get into.”

“Oh.. sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be. Shit happens. You definitely seem like her type though, no wonder she got with you.”

“What’s her type?”

“Heh. As if I’d tell you.” He scoffed.

“C’mon man, please?”

“Nope.”

Michael frowned, slumping in his seat.

“Fine. Whatever. Not like I need to know.”

“You could at least pretend you don’t care.”

“I don’t.”

“You clearly do, bro.”

He sat arms crossed, turning a smidge away from Trevor. This was his opportunity to listen to his tunes again, but before he could Michael spoke up.

“Can I… can I listen to whatever you’re listening to?”

“Huh?”

“I wanna hear what you’re into.”

Trevor shot him a puzzled look.

“Uh.. okay.”

Wiping off an earbud, he handed one to Michael. He already had one in.

“Pick your poison cowboy.”

“Cowboy?”

“Just a nickname I give people.” He shrugged.

Michael settled on his experimental music, actually nodding along to the sound. They were closer than a minute ago, and it made Trevor uncomfortable for whatever reason. Maybe because he was never in such close proximity to strangers, but the other part of him didn’t care that much. Michael’s eyes were closed, smiling.

“You like it?”

“Yeah! Reminds me of synth stuff from the 80s, just more modern I guess.”

He smiled back at Michael, appreciating the fact there was someone else who liked the music he liked. The two listened to a couple different playlists he had, up until the moment Wade arrived at the park.

“Trevor! Hey!”

“Woah. Who’s your friend?”

“Hm?” He pulled out the single earbud, turning his head around. Wade had clown makeup on, making Trevor jump in his seat.

“Fucks sake. Hey Wade.”

“Ooh who’s this?”

He wasn’t sure if Wade freaked him out or not, seeing as the guy not only had matted locs, but many facial piercings as well. And the clown shit. He stood up to introduce them to one another.

“Wade, this is Michael. Michael, Wade.”

The way Michael looked at him was like a kid seeing a zoo animal for the first time. He looked bewildered, but not disgusted.

“Hi. What’s with the..?” He wavered a hand in Wade’s direction.

“Oh! It’s jus’ clown face. Not tryna scare ya or nothin’!”

“Uh huh… man. How have I never been around these parts? You guys are real different.”

“You got that right, Mike.”

“Seems like I’ve been missin’ out. I hangout with some dudes who would hate this place if I’m being honest.”

“I’ll have to meet ‘em sometime.” Trevor chuckled.

“They’re real cool guys. Didn’t expect our paths to cross, but anything’s possible in this fuckin’ city.”

“Oh yeah. Land of opportunities, for all types of wackjobs.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

A hand tapped Trevor on the shoulder.

“Uh, excuse me, Trevor, but are we still gonna talk about the Merryweather thingy-”

“Wade! Shut it-”

“What Merryweather thing?”

“Nothing, nothing. Not important.” He said, gritting his teeth, glare strong on Wade.

“Okay..”

“But you said we’d talk about it over icecream!”

“Later, Wade. Not right now.”

“Fiiine. Can we still get icecream though?”

“Sure. Promise. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay! Bye Trevor, bye stranger!”

Michael lifted a hand to haphazardly to wave goodbye.

“What was that about?”

“I told ya man, nothin’. Just going over some plans we’re making.”

“Is it about that special event being held there?”

“How you know about that?”

“Mandy told me.”

“Mandy… yeah. Figures as much.”

“She got an invite, and wants me to go as her plus one. I don’t know if I really wanna go though, I’m still pretty unfamiliar with all this.”

“Trust me, you don’t.”

“Seriously, what is your beef with those guys?”

“I told you, they start shit when they want. Taught ‘em a lesson and that was it. Nearly got me banned from this place, but it was kinda worth the looks on their faces.”

“You are.. quite peculiar y’know. Anyway, you mind showing more of that music? I was honestly gettin’ a kick outta it.”

“Uh, yeah.”

He sat back down next to Michael, handing him the same earbud as before. He clicked on one of his favorite Crystal Castles songs, Vanished. As they were listening, Michael furrowed his eyebrows.

“Hey wait a minute.. I think I’ve heard this before.”

“You have? I thought you didn’t know them.”

“No, I mean yeah I haven’t, but that’s not it. The lyrics. Vocals. I’ve heard them in a different song.”

“Oh.”

“Lemme think, lemme think, ah… I got it! Pass me your phone real quick.”

His fingers typed in the song title fast, pressing play right away. It was an indie rock song, much to Trevor’s dismay. But something stopped him from complaining, seeing how Michael’s face lit up.

“Yeah! This is it, Sex City by Van She. Y’know, I honestly think that’s neat.”

“What is?”

“The fact that a song you like, samples a song I like! Who would’ve guessed?” He said, eyes sparkling. Trevor didn’t notice how bright they were until now. The eye contact, along with the lack of space between them, made him feel stuffy again. He averted his eyes back to his phone, trying to loosen up a bit. As the song played, he savored in the sound, shocking himself a bit. The rock sound was there, but had an 80s sort of feel to it. The song finished before he knew it.

“So.. What’d ya think?”

“You know my thoughts on indie shit. Wasn’t for me, sorry.”

“Oh c’mon, you know you liked it.”

“Nope. Prefer Vanished.”

“Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, but I honestly think they’re both really good. You think that too, I can feel it.”

“Whatever you say bro.”

He switched the song over to that Grimes song he listened to yesterday, the two of them sitting silently. It was a pleasant afternoon they shared. Suddenly Michael’s phone went off, and he yanked the earbud out.

“Ah shit. I gotta take this. Mandy.”

“Gotcha.”

Trevor grabbed the other earbud, putting it back in. He saw Michael wave his free hand around, looking close to hurling his phone right into the lake. Trevor assumed he must’ve been shouting as well, from the way other people were looking at him. Hanging up not much later, he returned to the bench, as Trevor put his earbuds away.

“Fuckin’ Christ.”

“So.. how’d it go?”

“She’s finally not mad at me anymore, but demanded I go take her shopping now. I swear, she’s gonna clear out my bank account or something.”

“How? You guys aren’t even dating.”

“I know, but I just can’t say no to her.”

“Uh huh.”

“Look, I’m sorry to leave so suddenly, but I really gotta go before she goes back to being pissed at me. See ya around?”

“I’ll be here man.”

Michael stood up, storming away. Seemed like he had a short temper, huh? He wondered to himself how long he was gonna stick around, seeing how Amanda’s dating history was… an extensive list. He thought back to last night, when he had seen that post of them, remembering the fact that no guy stayed for longer than a week. It almost made him bummed, seeing as he only had Ron and Wade for friends. Lester too, but that was on rare occasion. Shit. The plans. What time was it?

“Ah, fuck me.” He muttered. How did he let the day go by so quick?

He shot a text to Wade, telling him to grab Ron and meet at some icecream place. He did promise Wade after all.

Ron ended up meeting them there a little bit later, apologizing profusely before Trevor told him to just sit down and shut up. He did just that, almost apologizing once more.

“Now, let’s get down to business. Who do we know that would help us sneak into that club to cause sheer utter mayhem?”

Ron raised his hand excitedly.

“I could get Floyd maybe-”

“Definite fuckin’ no. He would have a heart attack the minute he set foot in there.”

This was getting nowhere. He tossed his head back to look up at the sky. As he did, he saw a couple walking out of the icecream place.

“Oh fucking hell.”

Was this guy following him or something? He snapped his head forward, trying to be a little more hidden.

“What? Trevor what is it?”

“Shh! Keep your fucking voice down Ron!”

He made all three of them lower their heads as the couple walked away, peeking over his shoulder to make sure they were gone. As he did, he could’ve sworn he saw Michael looking back at him. The both of them turned away as quick as possible from the split second of eye contact.

“Trevor?” Ron repeated.

“It was nothing. Just thought I saw someone.”

“Ain’t that the Michael fella I met today?”

“Nope. Don’t think it is.”

“Are ya sure-”

“Pretty fucking positive. Now, back on topic.”

The next hour or so still went nowhere. Wade had gone through two servings of icecream, and Ron started to get restless. Trevor was just bored.

“Ughhh there has to be something we can do!”

“I don’t know what to tell you Trevor. We’ll find someone, soon. There’s enough time isn’t there?”

“Yeah, but I’m not waitin’ til the last possible fuckin’ second to get a guy to help us out here.”

“But we still have time.”

“If you fuckin’ say so Ron.”

The three of them called it a night, as Trevor tossed around the idea of possibly getting Michael involved in his head. On one hand he wanted to out of spite just to make Amanda and the other hipsters mad, and on the other he didn’t want to screw up whatever new friendship he had started with Michael. Ron did say they had time to find someone soon. They weren’t exactly in a rush, but he still wanted to make sure their plan was concrete. They all went back to Wade’s, Trevor deciding to take a walk along the beach. He threw on the same playlist from earlier, watching the sunset. As he walked, he didn’t pay much mind to where he was going, bumping into someone.

“Ah fuck, watch where you’re going-”

“Shit, sorry man-”

As they spun around from the collision, he realized exactly who he had run into.

“Trevor?”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck? Are you following me or something?”

“Huh?”

“This is the third time I’ve seen you today. What are you even doing here?”

“Uh, it’s a public fuckin’ beach man.” He said, mocking the comment Trevor had made earlier.

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Hey, I’m just tellin’ you how it is. I didn’t purposely search for you, hell I didn’t even know you lived this way.”

“I do. So make like a tree and fuck off.” He said bitterly.

“Woah, chill the fuck out. What’s your deal? I thought we were cool man.”

“I don’t like being followed.”

“I just told you I wasn’t!”

“It doesn’t exactly seem like it. You just so happen to look for me this morning, and just happen to go to the same icecream place I went, and then I find you here? I mean Jesus-”

“I’m telling you, it’s all purely coincidence.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fuckin’ hell man..” He mumbled.

“Y’know, you’re as fuckin’ stubborn as Amanda is. I already told you-”

Trevor balled his fists, before jabbing a finger into Michael’s chest.

“Don’t fucking compare me to her.”

Michael threw his hands up defensively, not realizing he touched a nerve.

“Woah woah, easy dude. I didn’t think it was that bad between you guys.”

He exhaled loudly, unclenching his hands.

“It wasn’t. Isn’t. Just.. don’t compare me to her.”

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling hard himself.

“Look, I think you’re cool and all but you can’t flip out on me like that. I mean we are just getting to know each other y’know. I can’t have you wanting to bite my head off like that if I just so happen to keep running into you. I really am just trying to navigate the area better, so forgive me if I came off as some sorta fuckin’ stalker. Amanda went home and I had nothing better to do so I chose to walk over this way.”

“Hmph. Fine. Whatever.”

“So we good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now, since we’re already here why don’t we just hangout or something?”

Trevor folded his arms, trying to look like he didn’t want to spend another minute with him. It didn’t really work though, because he actually did want to talk to him more.

“If you insist.”

“Alrighty.”

The two of them started to head in the direction of the boardwalk, neither one speaking yet. After finding a bench to sit on as the sun sunk below the horizon, the silence was still there. This sort of thing was bizarre for both of them in different ways. Michael never really frequented these parts of LS, and Trevor never really hit it off with any kind of stranger. Ron and Wade were exceptions if anything, and he had known Lester for a while now. Yet there was something about this guy that didn’t make him feel like he was spending time with a stranger, even though he knew jack shit about him. He might as well try to make small talk.

“So I-”

“So uhh-”

They spoke over each other while trying to start up a conversation, making things feel a little more awkward.

“Shit sorry, you go first.”

“Nah nah you go.”

“Um. Okay. So.. tell me about yourself? We haven’t really talked about much besides music.”

“Yeah.. right. What do ya wanna know?”

“I just asked you to tell me about yourself, so it’s your job to decide what to say.”

Michael gave him a sardonic smile in response to that, partly because he wasn’t sure what to bring up about himself. It seemed like they were gonna be here a while if they wanted to say the most basic shit you say when getting to know someone.

“Well, I ain’t that interesting if you really need to know. I’m guessing you already know about my whole ‘affinity for the 80s’ thing, like the culture n shit that came from it. Real sick stuff.”

“If you say so.”

“Yeah. Anyway, if you really want to know plain shit about me though, I will tell ya that my favorite color’s blue.”

Trevor snickered at that.

“Pfft, seriously? We’re talking favorite colors now?”

“Hey man, you said you wanted to know more about me.”

“Uh yeah, but that’s so fuckin’ silly.”

“Maybe it is, but what about you? You got one?”

“Favorite color? You kiddin’?”

“I’m waiting..”

“Uh huh… I’ll give. Always liked the color red I guess. Like, in variety. Not picky about something as childish as that.”

“What’s childish about that?”

“Cuz only kids exchange that whole ‘oh what’s your favorite color?’ thing. It’s like if I were to ask you what your favorite dinosaur is.”

“Hmm.. I’d probably say a T-Rex.”

“Oh now you’re just pulling my dick. And no, I’m not telling you what mine is just because you did.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask you though. That was all you.”

“Mm… shut it.”

“You got one though?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“Ah ah, I didn’t ask which one, I asked if you had one.”

“Well I don’t, so knock it off.”

“That’s fair. I won’t push.”

They grew silent for the second time that night, before Trevor mumbled something under his breath.

“It’s a pterodactyl..”

“What was that?”

He forced a breath through his nose, acting annoyed.

“It’s a fuckin’ pterodactyl. That’s mine. Okay?”

“Hah, okay. Any reason why?”

“You’re so nosy.”

“You’re the one who started this conversation about getting to know each other man.”

“Ugh, I know that.” He said, lightly shoving his shoulder.

“I think it’s cool that they could fly and shit. I like flying.”

“You like flying?”

“Loved it.”

“Wait, you tellin’ me you fly? Like, planes and shit?”

Trevor winced at the words, regretting what he just said.

“I did.. at some point. Air Force shit. They said I was one of the best they’d seen in a while but I.. left. Sort of.”

“Then why’d you leave?”

“I didn’t exactly leave on my own accord. More or less got kicked out.”

“How come-”

“I don’t like talking about it. I know we’re opening up or whatever the fuck but that.. that’s still too soon for me to want to bring up. Especially to someone I barely know.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He said, even though it really wasn’t. It’s not like Michael knew though, he really wasn’t trying to prod in a bad way.

It was almost pitch black by the time their conversation got to that point, only distant streetlight and the nearby pier lighting up their surroundings. The whole mood had shifted, and both of them decided to just break it off there.

“Hey uh, I’ll probably see you tomorrow man. If I’m with Amanda I think I’ll just send a wave or something your way.”

“Got it. See ya.”

“Bye.”

Trevor stayed put, watching Michael leave as he turned down a random one way street. This guy was tripping him out and he couldn’t pin point why. It was getting late though, and walked off himself back to Wade’s. He’ll save that vexed question for another night.

//ahhhhhh i rlly did not know what i wanted to do with this….,,., sorry if this wasn’t as good as the first two !! i alrdy know i repeated a bunch of stuff in there and i feel like it got kinda sloppy so again, soz (including typos or whtevr)

but uhhhh anyway yeah i cut it off here bc i wanted to continue some of this shit in the next chapter ig lol,, more stuff to come soon god willing

[mistaeq]

kakyoin noriaki - tic-tac

tw // death of a character

dora's note: tonight i was inspired for kakyoin and for complex stuff so,,, i put a lot of effort in this so i apologize if it's really sad but it means a lot to me oof

word count: 1.2k

taglist: // i don't wanna tag anyone in posts with trigger warnings to allow everyone to have more safety. hope you understand. [if you wanna be removed or added, all it requires is a dm or an ask !!]

ever since you were a little child, you always hated time. or clocks. the thought of life slipping through your fingers. you couldn't stand the tic-tac sound of the clock hands, no matter the hour.

you wanted to play with your toys, in complete silence, because you were used to silence. you had no friends at all, and the only thing that could keep you any company was yourself. you lost count of the time you spent, chit-chatting with yourself, trying so hard to make it make sense.

but the clock did keep the count of the times you had done that, and it infuriated you. not only it ruined your silence, but it also kept an eye on how low your life could go? that's why you then pouted, and let the tic-tac lull you to sleep, because when you had nobody but yourself, what else could you possibly ever do? and once you did, you knew that the "other you" - you always called it that - would have covered you with a blanket and disappeared.

you really have no clue of how they slipped through your fingers that quickly, yet so slowly, seventeen years of tic-tac. it built roots in your mind, so much that when you don't hear it when you're by yourself, you start murmuring it, hoping nobody's close enough to hear. but you don't like it, do you? it's a persecution, and now that you're surrounded by people who won't understand, it feels worse than it did when you had nobody.

but you still have nobody. nobody... but them. breathtaking eyes and skin, a comforting scent everytime they pass by. an analog watch. the only one in the classroom. the first time you saw them, they were sitting at the desk right behind yours, and for some reason, from that day on, they seemed to always choose a desk close to yours. tic-tac, your analog watch always said during classes. and you could concentrate on your teachers' words. and your grades improved because of that angel with the analog watch.

"you seem very fond of my watch. kakyoin noriaki." they said, one day. was it so noticeable? you never once looked at it, nor asked them anything about their silver colored, analog watch, that kept the tic-tac alive in your head during classes, that kept you from murmuring it and looking like a complete idiot. "you always nod along with its sound. it's slight. it's yours." they added an explanation, and with those last three words, you noticed they were handing you the watch. you didn't want to accept it. it was one of their belongings. but the tic-tac soothed you. and you took it without any more words.

y/n. this was the angel of the analog watch's name, you learnt it when your teacher called the register, and for the first time you lifted up your head. and they raised their hand at the call of y/n l/n. it was a good name. it suited them. they always smiled at you, and seemed to be satisfied, when they noticed you were always carrying their watch to school. they never questioned why weren't you wearing it on your wrist. you kept in in your hand, and the hand stayed next to your ear throughout the whole lesson.

but just like the "other you", they never asked you for any explanation. they took you the way you were, and for the first time, you started to believe that hearing that tic-tac wouldn't have been that bad anymore, if it came from your watch. so you started coming to school for the only purpose of seeing them. the watch was yours now, so you could have stayed home and just listen to it the whole day, but you wanted to listen to is and see their smile at the same time.

it kept the time going and stopped it at the same time, in a harmony that was unbelievable. tic-tac...

...but the watch stopped making any sound, when it happened.

how did you get there? where's your angel of the analog watch? what's the point of listening to it, if they're not there? the silence is so loud. there's plenty of sounds in the road, men and women screaming, cars honking, traffic lights going crazy, and liquid sounds. loads of liquid sounds. something is flowing on your clothes, down your legs, and it is red. you liked red, it was your favourite color, but this is the kind of red you would have never wanted to see. tic-tac... the clock says.

no, not your beloved analog watch. as soon as you ended up there, it stopped working, leaving you with the empty image of y/n's smile. which was still the reason why, most likely, you had fought to be still alive. you wanted to talk to them more. you didn't want to be addicted to their analog watch, but to their voice, which was a sound you only had the luck to hear once. tic-tac... said the clock, again.

your final thoughts were not of your parents in japan. though you cared deeply for your parents, when your mind drifted to the final question that puzzled you, thoughts of your parents drifted away. tic-tac... said the clock, and despite it not being the analog watch, y/n's face appeared in your mind again. time. you always hated it. you never understood it, and too late now, you understood time is just like you. nobody gets it. and can't be stopped.

stopped... time...

then, for the first time in your life, you understood the only way to be useful, and to give an explanation to your miserable life, was to stop the sound. stopping the sound would have made your life better since the very beginning. and now, it was your time. because you knew that was the key to everything you and your new companions had been looking for since the very beginning of your journey.

you shoot your final shot. right on the clock. you did it, it's satisfying. but it's more than that. "it's a... message. it's the best i can do..." words kept forming into your head. "mr. joestar... please understand... please, figure it out." you hoped they could save the world and fight the time. not for yourself, but for what y/n's analog watch taught you. that's how the clock, unexpectedly, heard the last of its sound. along with you. forever.

ever since you were a little child, you always hated time. or clocks. you were right, and nobody ever listened to you.

everyone, but them.