#went from having zero way to contact them to having EVERYONE’S phone number in half an hour

[lady-forest-1142]

okay I know you’ve all been dying for a soccer boys update sooo….. guess who got on the fucking group chat, bitches!!!

[urlocalnctstan]

𝚃𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

Genre : Angst, Fluff, Slow-burnish, Idol AU

Pairing : Jaehyun x Reader ft.Mark (other members too)

Warning(s) : strong language, age-gap, mature contents, weird writing style lmao, uh what else? idk but yeah

Disclaimer :The story is completely fictitious, idol-fan relationships are not common so some of you crazy ones out here, pls don’t get too delusional, your oppas will be your oppas only virtually, not in real life.

Playlist : Youtube Link / Written

Word Count : 5.4k

Summary : ‘Time and tide waits for none’- a quote that is universally accepted and believed. You both had had your experience of meeting the right one at the wrong time, the concept of love long forgotten after the sudden downfall of your relationship together. But will time eventually heal everything for you both?

The car came to a halt, your mind subconsciously drifting back to the humiliation you faced tonight back at the office.

“ARE YOU FUCKING DUMB, Y/N?” your boss was a fuming mess, his whole office scattered with the documents you had brought just a few moments ago. At the sight of the shredded papers, you felt you heart clench. You worked so hard for this project, disregarding God knows how many nights of your sleep. The feeling of abomination was slowly creeping up from the pit of your stomach towards the man who stood taut, seething in rage.

“HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL YOU TO JUST DO WHAT THEY ASKED YOU TO?” He yelled, his fist furiously banging on his wooden desk, beneath his hand rested some pieces of the torn documents.

“Sir, even you know how risky it is to design as they asked to. If a blunder happens it is our company that is to be held accountable, not theirs.” you knew it was pointless to reason with the stubborn headed prick, but you had to try out your luck.

“Get out. Out, out, out. Get your fucking face out of my face.” He swished his index finger repeatedly, letting out a frustrated shriek just as I was about to exit his office. His wrath was nothing new in the office, as all the other employees shot me a rather pitying look when they saw me exiting the team leader’s office with hands full of ripped papers. Wow, my 2 weeks worth of sleep. Just wow. You didn’t bother to reciprocate their sympathetic glances, storming out of the corridor as you furiously started clicking the floor to your cabin. The jabbing of your finger on the glowing button that read ‘13’ was the only sound that resonated in the fairly empty area, earning annoyed looks from the two individuals who stood right behind you.

“Ah, fuck.” You banged your head against the steering, recalling the even as you clutched the handles harshly. “Why,” another bang. “do I,” bang. “live like” bang. “this,” bang. You could feel your face was burning without even touching it, streams of tears flowing down. Just as you were about to give yourself another bang, the sudden honk of a car made you pause amidst your ritual. Indeed all motherfuckers love to test my patience. You decide to ignore the rider, mainly because you were also partially at fault for resting in your car in the middle of the park. You twisted the metal keys as the ignition went off, signaling your car was ready to flee. Yet again, you were distracted by soft knocks. You prayed to God to help you not lose your shit, at this point you were questioning if He ever hears your woes at all. The soft knocks stop immediately when you started to pull down the window, the person straightening only crouch again.

“Y/n?” his called out unsurely, as if he were afraid of mistaking you for someone else. You knew that voice, and that is not good news. Shit.

“Mark?” you were surprised to say the least, not expecting to run into an old friend. “Oh my god! How have you been?” You shoot out of your driver’s seat, instantly being engulfed into a bone crushing hug by the male.

“I have been good. Oh god, I can’t believe this! I can’t believe I ran into you after so long!” Mark still held you tight your embrace, the sudden reunion making him feel giddy with excitement.

“Yes indeed,” you were the first to pull out from the hug. You took a moment to study him; black mask covering half of his face as he smiled widely, eyes crinkled and the signature cheekbones still the same as they were in the past. God, it’s really been so long. “What are you up to these days?”

“Er,” Mark scratched his head as he laughed nervously, unsure if he was allowed to give you spoilers about his new album. “I have been working on my solo album actually.” 

“Are you for real?” You found yourself hugging Mark again at the joy of his successful career. “I’m so so proud of you mate!”

“Thank you, thank you,” Mark swayed you lightly, his voice muffled due to the mask he wore. Mark was the one to pull out now, still keeping your caged as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “In no way I am gonna let you leave without a trace again,” he almost groaned.

“Promise, I won’t anymore,” you signaled to the stack of files that rested on the backseat of your car. “They won’t leave me alone.”

“I’ll just ask your boss to assign you with more tasks then,” he giggled mischievously, earning a light smack from you at the mention of such an absurd idea.

“I’ll track your way to hell to kill you again if you do something like that,” you hissed at Mark, who was still giggling at your frustrated reaction. The atmosphere became quiet as Mark looked up in the vacant sky, deep in thoughts while you waited for him to continue. Your phone buzzed against your leather coat.

[From Bullhead] : Don’t think I am overlooking your mess. This is the first and final warning from me.

You shivered, half from the cold and half from the text you just received.

“26th, sharp at 8 PM, my place.” He snapped his fingers, hooting at the realization of having a free day in his busy scheduled life.

“Okay, done.” You should have refused, you thought. But for some reason, you found yourself agreeing to his offer, you felt both sad and guilty for disappearing out of your friend’s life without a trace. However, you couldn’t ignore the greedy feeling you felt, the want to see him again. “I think I should be done around...7:30? So I think I’ll be able to make it.” You unlocked and handed him your phone.

“You have to make it,” his eyes focused on the screen of your device, swiftly typing what you assumed was him number. “Just incase, text me if I happen to forget - no I know that look, Y/n, you must text if that happens..” He rolled his eyes, knowing that how much you would be overthinking about possibly tiring him because of his busy lifestyle. Mark dialed his number from your phone before handing it back to you. You visibly snickered at the name he saved his contact with : ‘My Boo MarkLee <3’ 

“Stop pretending as if you never renamed my existence as Markie Boo,” he groans, remembering how this has been his another one of the hundred pet names he had. Your conversation was cut mid way as his phone loudly vibrated in his phone, swiftly pulling it out as the guy whined in annoyance.

“Yo, I gotta go now I guess, something came up at the company.” He looked sad, pouty. “See you around, yeah?” You were pulled into another hug by the male, he surely loved to hug as usual.

“Yes, yes. Now go. Don’t be late.” You patted his back, pulling out of the hug and shooing him away towards his car.

“See ya, Mom.” He beamed as he sped off with his car. 

“Dumbass.” You muttered, softly laughing at the name he would always call you by, despite being years younger than him. You rounded around your car, getting inside. The start was bad but the end was good nonetheless. The keys of your car jiggled as you closed the door. Again, you twisted the keys, your mood slightly better than before for which you were grateful. Your car’s ignition blared, as you positioned towards the exit of the park, subtly muttering ‘long ass ride.’

The digits ‘7:37’ glowed on the the small digital clock beside your desktop. You felt stiff, stretching your neck as your bones made those cracking noes. You stare at your toes, zoning out was your passion and you excelled at it. You snapped straight, letting out a deep sigh as you started to scheme the projects before you were to hand them over to your bullhead boss. Soon enough, you were done, muttering almost too loudly for everyone that you wished your boss would be napping off instead of being awake.

Good for you, your prayers were answered for the first time in a while. You quietly placed the files that contained all the details that needed to be checked again by your boss, quietly making your way out of his cabin as soon as possible. On you way, you informed his secretary you were leaving, her face wore distraught and annoyance but softens as she saw you approaching. Sometimes you felt sympathetic towards her, often asking the heavens to bless her with utmost patience and perseverance to deal with the bullhead.

The marble floor clicked with every step you took, the sounds eerily audible in the serene lobby. It was very rare for the lobby to be filled with people in evening, the employees would practically sprint off their seats as soon as the clock hits 7. You made your way out of the building, making a mental note to buy a gift for Mark on your way back to home. What would he like? Take outs? Homemade? Wine? You drove across the street before halting your car in front of the department store that was situated just a few blocks away from your office. The header of the store glowed, the alleys seemingly half-crowded with people of different occupations you assumed. You let out a hiss as you felt a chill run down your spine, it was almost the end of Autumn which meant Winter was just round the corner. You decided to rely on your instincts, deciding to gift your friend a fancy bottle of wine despite having zero knowledge about it.

You were never quite the fan of wine. According to you, the seemingly alcoholic drink was too expensive, plus the etiquettes that came along for its consumption would always just make your turn your head away every time you laid your eyes across one. You schemed through the white shelves filled with different tastes and colors of wine, each hailing from various corners of the world. “How do I even spell it?” You crouched down a bit to a bottle that had caught your attention, the exquisite name was starting to make your head hurt. It’s probably a white wine you thought, the transparent color of the liquid was what made you convince. But something rather nostalgic caught your sight, before you could even realize, you found your fingertips caressing the cold glass bottle of the red liquid that you held now.

“If were to be a drink, then what would I be?” You lazily laid sprawled across the couch in the living, while you boyfriend who sat on the marble floor across fumbles with the knotted bunch of cables. Jaehyun had his gaze focus of the wire maze in his hands, eyebrows furrowed and lips pouted in immense concentration.

“Peach milk,” he smiled, unbeknownst to you he was actually implying a double meaning for his answer.

“And why that?” You felt his choice a bit amusing, not really expecting that as an answer.

“Because I love your ass and boobs,” he winked, only to be hit by a pillow that was resting beneath your curled legs. Jaehyun felt himself giggling by your reaction, it was cute to see you being annoyed. “Babe, c’mon. I can’t lie about it.” 

“Never mind, just forget it.” You started to get a bit pissed, hurt as well because your sensitive ass thought he would probably say something sweet that would make you heart flutter. 

“Peach milk is my favorite, that’s the main reason why,” Jaehyun shifted his focus back to the cables, the last two knots were too adamant to let go of each other. You felt yourself smiling, too wide, he definitely knew you well. Cheeky bastard.

“What about me?” he asked, eyes still focused as he working on untying the last knot.

“Hmmm...” you shifted your position on the couch, now sitting up as you stared your boyfriend’s figure for a short while.

“Red wine.” sophisticated, classy, unique, warm. If you were to describe the aura around him, these would be the first choices.

However, your answer seemed to have caught Jaehyun’s attention, pausing in his tracks as he got curious as to why the specific choice. He had a huge grin on his face, he adored how you remembered the specific detail of red wine being his favourite, for he mentioned it in your first date which was 2 years back. But he knew there was more to it. He knew you too well. “But why red wine?”

You kept your gaze fixated on Jaehyun as he gets up from the ground, putting the cables in a secure manner to avoid another tie war. He hugged the pillow tight which you had previously thrown on him, before propping down beside you on the couch with a tired sigh, looking at you intently. It was as if you both were having a staring contest. So you rested your head on your right hand, both staring each other with soft smiles before you continued.

“You are much more to what everyone thinks you are,” you notice how Jaehyun cocks an eyebrow, still staring and trying to process what you just said.

“Just like wine, the more I know you, the more I know just how amazing you are. Both sweet and sour, but the balanced ratio of it is what makes you more admirable.” You admired how he was always able to balance things out, prior to what everyone believes about him, he had both good and bad sides to him. And that’s what made him more human, him acknowledging his flaws. That’s what made you fall for him.

Hearing you, Jaehyun thought he might dislocate his jaw anytime soon for smiling so hard. His heart started to do all sort of flips, ears starting to pink. It was at times like this when you don’t need words to express how you were feeling, silent but the communication was still present. Jaehyun slides his hand into yours, you glanced at both of your intertwined fingers before looking at him, his eyes full of hearts for you. You giggled, feeling shy at his intense stare but returning him the same way.

“I love you,” he whispered, his starry eyes which were only looking at you.

“Excuse me miss,” You jolt at the sudden change of voice coming from behind you. You whip around, a girl probably in her late teens stood nervously, her hands fidgets with the belts of her backpack. 

“Miss, you were kinda in the way so..” you felt flustered for absent-mindedly drifting into your dreamland while shopping for your friend, chiding yourself mentally in the process.

“Ah, I am so sorry,” you moved swiftly to the side to allow the teen some space to carry out her shopping. “Please, carry on.” You smiled softly. Though at the back of your mind you wanted to point out how she shouldn’t be consuming alcohol, but disregarded the urge nonetheless. Sometimes children should get to enjoy their minimal amount of fun in their youth too. You were still clutching the red wine bottle in your hand, eyeing it one last time before placing it back in the racks. You cleared your throat, as if to let the voices speaking inside your head know that you are not a stupid 20 year old anymore. You shake your head, glancing around to inspect if others were judging your state before proceeding to the counter for the random wine you picked which might have cost you half of your monthly salary. It’s okay to spend once in a while.

Mark was literally running around his apartment. Running. His head shot up as he remembered something. “Shit, fuck, are the bathroom lights okay?” he murmured to himself, sprinting off to the bathroom that was located in his vast living room first, followed by the ones in his bedroom and guestroom. Mark was still a newbie to the norms of living alone, him being a newborn living-alone man for sparsely 2 months. And he would barely be home due to his schedules. There were even times he would just forget his own bedroom.

“What else, what else,” he glanced over the whole area eyes drifting here and there before he realized something. Dumbass forgot to check if there were even enough food for two. Mark quickly scurried to the kitchen counter, the utensils were more than enough before checking his fridge. Beers? Check. Soju? Check. Kimchi? Check. Slices of chicken breast? Check. But the 33 year old still felt something was missing. Mark shifted his focus on the wooden shelf that was just above the kitchen sink, the transparent glass door of it making a creak sound as he opened it. For an apartment who’s owner was barely home, the shelf was definitely well packed and organized. It contained all sorts of ramen, tteokbokki and any other fast food you could name. “What else, what else, what else, what else,” he kept chanting, as if by some magic his chants of short memory would be heard and he would know what else was he missing out. He hunched over the lower shelf to inspect if all the sauces his housekeeper stores for him were present there. Absorbed in his thoughts, Mark did not notice the sudden sound of his bell going off, before the sounds just got repeated and even more louder. 

“What the fuck?” his eyebrows creased in annoyance, cussing out all the profanities he had in his vocabulary at the visitor’s insolent mannerism. Mark was beyond pissed, the person behind the other side of the door not only disrupted his memory battle but also had the audacity to ring the bell like a 3 year old in the middle of the night. Instead of just answering from the intercom, he directly opened the entrance door. “Look, it’s like 11 in the night - Hyung?” Mark halted his rant session as he realized it was Jaehyun standing in front of his house. Covered in black shirt, black mask, black pants - black everything, it would take a while for others who did not know him personally to recognize the member of the top boy group in the industry.

“Were you shitting or something,” Jaehyun smiled before casually giving his best friend a hug. Mark pulls out some of the spare slippers he had stored, while Jaehyun sits on the wooden step as he unties the knots of his black adidas. As Jaehyun get ups, he looks over to the other male standing in front of him, then down at the slippers and then again to the male.

“What?” Mark laughed, his hands shifting to the sides of his waist.

“Mark, please don’t go shopping by yourself next time,” Jaehyun silently judged Mark for offering him the fluffly colourful pink body and yellow polka dots slippers, similar to the ones he was wearing but the combination in opposite. 

“I got them from the BOGO offer going on in the supermarket just down the lane,” Mark wiggled his toes under the furry layer of clothing, slightly humming at the texture. “Bro this shit comfortable and cute, you can’t deny that.”

Jaehyun gives him another look, amused at how his bandmate’s old habits were still the same. “I help you out with your fashion choices next time. Don’t worry.” He patted Mark’s should, a sympathetic grin on his face as he anticipated the other male’s dramatic reaction. 

“Oh please,” Mark scoffed. “More like you need my and Johnny hyung’s assistance for your monotonous wardrobe!”

Jaehyun laughed at his friend’s rebuttal before lazily propping himself on the bean sack in the living room with a low hum. Oddly enough, Mark’s apartment felt more homely than his own apartment which was just above a few floors.

“But what brings you here?” Mark walks over to his fridge, judging by his friend’s sudden visit, he knew drinks had become a necessary part of the night. “And what about Hayoung?”

“What about her?” Jaehyun raised his eyebrow at Mark, skillfully catching the beer Mark had tossed to him after asking about Hayoung, Jaehyun’s, well complicated girl something.

“I though you guys might just....I don’t know, be official or something.” Mark stole a glance towards his friend, nervously opening his can. The momentary pin drop silence was an indicator, he indeed blurted something he should not have. The fizzy hiss of the beer can being opened barely broke the ice.

“I don’t do things like official,” Jaehyun scoffed, producing a low sigh after sipping the beer. Mark decided not to further press his friend, despite having an old unresolved grudge against Jaehyun somewhere deep within him. It had been years since all of that had happened, but he still felt hostility creep up inside every time he remembers that night, that week, that month. After all, it was you that Jaehyun had completely broken, torn and ripped apart.

Unbeknownst to the rummaging thoughts inside the mind of his bandmate, it took a while for the older to realize how oddly clean and organized the apartment looked. Jaehyun turned to Mark, eyebrows raised with mischievousness coating his words. “You having someone for the night tomorrow?”

Mark almost made a disgusted face but instead opted to scrunch. “Bro, I don’t have Tinder, neither do I wanna be a carrier of STDs.” Mark placed his empty can on the small glass table, simultaneously letting out a tired huff. Jaehyun almost took an offense to the statement, the attack was definitely but indirectly made towards him. But he decided to shrug it off, Mark was not lying after all. Jaehyun did not even know half of the girls’ names he had slept with, someday or another mixing up names which ends in him getting kicked out or being cursed out. That was what had happened that night as well. 

“Okay, I forgot. Hayoung, yes. Speak.” Jaehyun shot an incredulous look to the younger, as if he was able to read his mind or something. Mark only furrowed his eyebrows at the reaction.

“I-I....got kicked out,” Jaehyun’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the sharp eared male was able to catch his friend’s low murmur. Mark stifled his giggle, only to receive a glare from his friend. Jaehyun ran his fingers through his newly dyed lilac hair. Fucking embarrassing.

“But what made her do that?”

Jaehyun felt chills run down his spine as the scenario replayed in his head. He shivered despite the heater being on, an amused Mark glancing while chugging down the small remaining amount of beer. Mark was being a gentleman trying to conceal his laughter as Jaehyun rambled how he managed to fuck up yet another good hook-up buddy. At this point, Mark was not even surprised. Victim to his obvious facial expressions, Mark hated lying, and equally hated being lied to as well. Jaehyun side glanced his friend, a loud annoyed snort escaping from him. “Having fun, aren’t you?”

“Well, I mean it’s fun — sorry,” Mark clears his throat. He should be the type of friend who gives advices instead of laughing. Mark wiggled in his seat, distorting the empty can before having a perfect shot in the trashcan just a few feet away from him. Smooth one.

“I think I might retire, or just quit after the current contract ends,” Jaehyun felt tight, the words came out from him in a way too suffocating form. Mark visibly tenses, his laidback posture now crouching forward to his friend. Mark was too pre-occupied in his escalating solo career, the support he had been getting even before the official stage was way too much for him to fathom, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. A stinging guilt crept up inside him, chiding himself of being such an inconsiderate friend. “It’s high-time I start to live on my own accord.”

Mark decided to rather not pressurize the half-drunk dude with his numerous questions as to why or what has made him to take such a step. Jaehyun struggled to keep his eyes open, exhaustion was taking over his body ever faster now that he had booze in his system. Jaehyun would have rather opted to just spend the night on the couch (he preferred Mark’s limited edition long L shaped sofa over any king sized bed) but the guy decided to not get welcomed by his mate as ‘good morning.’ Mark put a hand on Jaehyun’s knee, an attempt to stop the non-stop stomping which was a very well-known drunk habit of him. Piling the blankets he just brought, the younger warned again, eyes like red lazer lights before trudging towards his bedroom. 

Feet wobbly, Jaehyun struggles to drag his build to switch off the remaining lights in the living room, glancing throughout the long empty space. He gulped down harshly, the familiar empty feeling creeping back to him which he had been avoiding for so long — for years. Jaehyun took a deep sigh, the heavy feeling feeling weighing down his chest as he took light steps towards the big glass window which granted him the view of the whole city. His eyes flickered at the luminous sight. He felt big but small, full, content but numb and empty. 

“Hyung, you’re still awake?” a sleepy voice spoke from behind, breaking out Jaehyun from his trance. 

“Huh?” It took a moment for him to process an answer. “Uh yeah. just like that. You go sleep.”

Mark shrugged, walking towards his bed as Jaehyun plopped down harshly on the duvet, wincing slightly as he felt a sprain in his lower back. With the alcohol slowly losing its effect on him with each passing second, Jaehyun started to feel more sober, more drawn back into the reality. He hated it. This feeling he was feeling.

Mark was having a rather difficult time to fall asleep. He even put on a random sleeping eye mask he uses for travelling, but alas that did not help either. He was too giddy, too excited for tomorrow. Pulling up the blankets over his head, Mark was assured he was safe from everyone, even maybe from God as a huge grin breaks out on his face. As much as he hates to admit it, Mark loved how things turned out to be the way they were.

“Oh god, this is so awkward. Oh god can I please please just die already?” Mark halted on his steps at the voice, glistening in sweats after the recent stage. He thought it would be an adventure to opt for the public washroom in disguise since the green rooms’ ones were all occupied by the rest of the members; and boy, Mark was really giving his all hold his pee.  

“OH GOD!” the sudden yelp caused the male to shriek quietly, muttering an inaudile ‘jesus’. Despite the odds, Mark decided not to test his luck, holding in the bubbling feeling just before explosion as much as he could. Muttering quiet curses, the male struggled to hold his posture as he stealthily tried to get to the other side of the stairs. Too busy in his on the way to urination voyage, Mark realized it was too late, he bumped. Bumped into someone. A girl. Hell yeah fucked. Panic crept at the back of his throat as he anticipated what was coming forth. Him being surrounded by numerous fan as he desperately tries to hold his pee. What a fucking sight.

“Look, I know you might be a staff or something,” Mark whipped his head at your voice. “But please just oh god,” you rambled, leaving the man standing with his legs crossed tightly in utter confusion. “I had no idea — Mark Lee?”

The colors from his faced drained, Mark turned casper for a split second. 

“PLEASE!” he was quick to react, half-whispering as he desperately caught your hands. “Please don’t just, uh.., shout or something.”

You immediately raised your hands in defense. “I uh have no reason to do so?” You stated, observing how he was literally squirming, it did not take you long to understand that the canadian needed to go the washroom as soon as possible. ”Oh!” You quickly moved. “Sorry for blocking your way!” Before he could even say thank you, you disappeared without any trace. Mark made a quick mental note to thank you, well that only if he ever happens to cross paths with you again. And deep down, he wised he would. On the other hand, you let out another distressed growl, promising to all of the heavens that never will you be ever accompanying your cousin sister, or let alone come to any concerts from now on. The stunt your drunken cousin had pulled just a while ago was humiliating enough, but of course, she had to spice it up by vomiting on the hallways just in front of the green room. You silently prayed and hope with all your might that maybe they will be generous enough not to sue you or ask for compensation for the mess, looking around cautiously for any employees before you sprinted off for the exit door, and yes, dragging the passed out stunt lady.

Mark felt as if he had a halo above his head, the water balloon inside him finally set free. But he had to race when he saw his phone buzzing with notifications, all of them belonging to his manager or the group chat of the members chanting same syllables ‘Where are you’ ‘show starts in 2′ ‘get yo ass here’. It did not take the rapper too while before he reached the green room, the makeup artists and stylists immediately wrapping themselves around him with brushes and hair sprays. He was smiling, genuinely smiling as he replayed the encounter he just had. Johnny raised an eyebrow with an amused grin on his face. 

“What’s with the smile, bro?” Johnny pulls up some random exercises to relieve the tension in his muscles.

Instead of dodging his question, Mark replied, still smiling, but wider. “The pee voyage was a nice one.”

Johnny judged the younger for a second before chuckling and heading towards the stage. The loud noises from the fans echoed throughout the whole arena, full of green lightsticks gleeming like blossoming spring garden. No wonder I called them grass, Mark thought. But today, he was looking for a rather specific individual, his eye scanning almost all the faces in the crowd. He hoped to see you again, smiling gleefully as he performed, but thought that it was too greedy of him to want this much in a span of a day. And so he performed, for the first time without any pressure of doing good, enjoying every moment of the stage he was on and yet again, wished that maybe, maybe your paths will collide with his again.

.

.

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part 2

[romance-geek]

sleep my long, unbroken sleep (niragi x oc)

warnings: violence, blood

author’s note: it's been a long long time?? i feel like most of the hype for alice in borderland has gone now, but i've gotten the urge to write again. so sorry it took so long! i'm thinking i'll do big chapters every update since future updates will probably a while, depending on my mood. hope you like it!

summary: Kuroba Chiyori may be born in the Borderlands, but no way in hell does she want to die in it.

AO3 LINK

CHAPTER TWO: fires find a home in me

PRESENT

Chiyori crouches down behind a tree outside one of the city’s stadiums, where the lights are as bright as can be in the Borderlands, beckoning players from all over Tokyo to join. There are signs nearby to lead people into the venue. Having been a citizen for all her life and a child of two of the most ruthless Game Masters, Chiyori knows the usual haunts; where to avoid and where to flock.

As much as she likes to consider herself an independent woman (and she very much is a woman now, thank you very much!), she prefers being surrounded by people whether familiar or not. Those earlier years spent locked inside a library with only books and dust as friends truly did wonders for her touch starvation. Craving companionship, but knowing death could pry them away from her bloody fingers in a blink of an eye. Her eternal dilemma.

And that night, nearly a decade ago, a decade of murder and sin, death stole the ones who brought her to life. She who guided the fates’ scissors, who lured her parents into a game they had a hand in orchestrating.

Thus began her undoing.

She could never really recall the whole night, most of her memories were of after. Bits and pieces would flash to her mind at the most inopportune moments (resulting in many near-death experiences), and to this day she cannot say what events led to the single clear picture in her mind. Of blood, gushing like a geyser from her father’s headless neck; of his wide-eyed head with a mouth frozen in a silent scream, rolling to a still beneath the shaking legs of her mother as her pulsing entrails out of her with a katana stuck to her spine, like a sick version of a magician’s show but only nearly succeeding.

Countless deaths had she witnessed in her childhood alone, usually by the lasers that come to claim players with zero days left as she watched through her library windows while nibbling on biscuits. Yet, this was the one that had her hurling her guts, almost in tandem with her mother’s dripping entrails.

Chiyori couldn’t tell you when was the first time she witnessed death, but she remembered the first time her hands took away someone’s life.

In a bout of adrenaline, and because the rules of the game permitted her to do so (each weapon can only be used once by each player, to up the ante), Chiyori wrenched the katana her mother’s killer used and drove it straight to his heart.

Battle Royale Kill Count.

Pretty straightforward name. Like Battle Royale, except only the one with the most kills survived. It was unlike the fiction novels she had read in her little library home, not like The Hunger Games where it only mattered who survived until the end even if you barely killed anyone, or like The Lord of the Flies where an adult appears to save you in the end.

At first, no one wanted to harm her. A child in the Borderlands? Unheard of. But as the game went on, the timer ticking down, the number of players dwindling, she knew they would come for her.

So she had to come for them first.

The katana was of no use to her any longer, so she had left it on her parents’ killer’s chest as he laid facing the ceiling, like a crude cross marker for her two parents.

She spent half of the time left looking around for stray weapons, but most of what she found were close-range types. She didn’t want to risk revealing herself to the others, so she persisted in looking around.

In one of the many rooms there, she found tucked into the corner behind a pile of boxes a large jug of gasoline. Relief flooded through her body as she scrambled for it. It was perfect! She only needed to spread the gasoline around, and it would only take one match for the whole building to burn.

Speaking of matches… She smiled horrifically, her face a mess of tears and snot with blood dripping down her nose, finding a little box with a few matchsticks amidst the junk.

Chiyori ran on the tips of her toes to avoid attention, hefting the jug and pouring it everywhere she could. All of a sudden, someone violently pulled at her ponytail. The gasoline sloshed over her front and clung to her clothes as the jug crashed to the floor.

She screamed as she was dragged back by a man with desperate eyes. He held a small knife, which trembled in his hands. The man struggled to straddle her as she kicked frantically, keeping eye contact with her while seeming to be in an internal war with himself. He raised the knife up high with both hands, the dull glint of it invoking her to grasp for something, anything to defend herself with. Her fingers latched on a broken piece of wood, with splinters and nails at the other end.

With a guttural yell, akin to the sound of pigs being slaughtered, the man drops his knife to try and dislodge the wood from the side of his head. It squelched in his efforts, blood and bits of skin coating the nails. While he was distracted, she grabbed the knife and plunged it into his right eye and twisted.

Chiyori knew something was wrong with her when she relished in his pain.

He dropped to the ground as she pushed him off, taking the jug and what amount of gasoline it had left to dump it all over his writhing body. She grabbed the matchbox from her pockets. She took one stick and struck it to light.

For a moment, she stood there, transfixed in the tiny flame.

Then, she dropped it.

The man lit up in a manner of seconds, his screams reaching a crescendo as the flames enveloped him.

Vicious thoughts ran through her mind. Vengeful. Mournful.

Hysteria replaced them when the flames licked at her clothes and ignited her as well.

She tried to roll around, but the room was quickly filling up with smoke and grew with even more flames. Chiyori ran outside, flailing her arms to no avail as it only seemed to fan the fire. Finding a clear patch of floor, she dropped and rolled for what seemed like hours of agony but was probably only a few minutes until the fire was completely smothered.

Third degree burns covered her arms, part of her abdomen, and her left thigh. The clothes stuck to her skin. The smell of barbecued pork along with smoke made her dizzy.

She stood up with a pained cry and limped as fast as she could to the entrance of the game venue. From different rooms, she could hear the panic of the remaining players as they fought against the fire.

The screen that dictates the amount of kills per player chimed with each death, the only number to increase was under her name, as she lit the fire that killed them. Subsequently, the number of remaining players were slowly counting down. She kept her gaze locked onto that number. The only way the game would end was when everyone else died.

Smoke started seeping into her nostrils again. She knew it was only a matter of time until the flames were upon her once more.

Finally, the screen changed.

𝐑 𝐄 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 𝐈 𝐍 𝐆   𝐏 𝐋 𝐀 𝐘 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 : 𝟎

𝐆 𝐀 𝐌 𝐄   𝐂 𝐋 𝐄 𝐀 𝐑 𝐄 𝐃

𝐂 𝐎 𝐍 𝐆 𝐑 𝐀 𝐓 𝐔 𝐋 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 𝐒

The phone she grabbed at the beginning chimed in one of her cargo shorts’ pockets. When she fishes it out, the screen lit up with the following message:

【 𝙶 𝙰 𝙼 𝙴 】

♤　♤　♤　♤　♤

♤　♤　♤　♤　♤

𝐖 𝐄   𝐖 𝐈 𝐋 𝐋   𝐒 𝐔 𝐏 𝐏 𝐋 𝐘   𝐀 𝐋 𝐋   𝐆 𝐀 𝐌 𝐄   𝐒 𝐔 𝐑 𝐕 𝐈 𝐕 𝐎 𝐑 𝐒  

𝐖 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇   𝐀   𝐓 𝐄 𝐍 - 𝐃 𝐀 𝐘   𝐕 𝐈 𝐒 𝐀

The irony of her father, the King of Spades, dying at a Ten of Spades game to protect her and her mother… Were it not for Chiyori, both of her parents would still be here right now. Maybe they would’ve trained her in preparation for the games that she wanted to play since she was a child.

But now?

She wondered why she ever wanted to play.

After that game, she immediately sought help from her parents’ fellow game masters, but after her wounds were cleaned and patched she holed up in her library home with the intent to let her visa run out by itself.

Only it didn’t. Not really.

She thought she lost her sense of time when the number stayed at zero for nearly a week, only to realize that the Borderlands didn’t want its single native citizen out of its clutches. Whichever god that rules this sinful place, if there ever is one, plays with her life almost daily with its cruel tribulations, but condemns her efforts to die outside of the games. It is almost as if they want her to play in order to die.

Chiyori isn’t particularly religious, but she has often read books about religion and philosophy. When one has questions, one seeks answers, but none of the books in any library in Tokyo have ever explained the nature and laws of this place.

With the games not being necessary to her life and being the only way to die, she needn’t participate. And for a while, she didn’t want to either.

Slowly, she began to open up to her parents’ friends, but the Borderlands only took them one by one as each cycle passed until she didn’t have anyone left but herself and her books. But even books couldn’t give her the happiness it gave when she was younger. By that time, she was thirteen, still a child but now numb to the death that surrounded her. She started participating in a few games a year, to a few games a month, now nearly everyday when she realized that those deadly games were the only things that made her feel alive anymore.

Sure, she meets friends along the way, but they only die in the end. Sometimes by her hand. Such is life in the Borderlands. The sooner you accept that, the better you’ll survive.

When a good amount of people have arrived at the game venue, she stands from her hiding place and nonchalantly walks over to join them, hands tucked into her denim jacket, the leathery scar on her left thigh visible as she only wore cycling shorts.

The clunk of her combat boots prompts several of them to glance at her entrance. She coolly raises an eyebrow and runs her eyes over everybody, reading them almost like her beloved books.

Chiyori runs a finger along the table of phones, choosing one with a sleek black case. After it scans her face, she saunters to a wall and leans back to continue her survey of the other players.

“Hey, are you new here?” A guy wearing a long-sleeved neon green shirt asks her. There’s a girl with a thankfully less bright top holding his hand. Both of them are looking at Chiyori worriedly.

She gazes distastefully at his shirt. With a scoff, she asks, “What makes you say that?”

“If I may, miss,” the girl interjects, “You look like you don’t realize how dangerous these things can get… We only wish to help educate you.”

Their familiarity with each other suggests that they knew each other before ending up at the borderlands. Both of them had dyed hair, the guy sporting blond tips while the girl had long pink hair. The fact that the girl had no roots showing tells Chiyori that they must’ve only been in the Borderlands for less than three weeks.

No, Chiyori decides after a peek of inked flesh on the guy’s bicep, about as big as the size of her palm. It still has a cling film wrapped around it, so it couldn’t have been more than three to five days.

The girl knew the games were dangerous, so they played at least one, not very hard if they’re already at another. This is probably their second or third game. Most likely the second.

In spite of herself, Chiyori smiles at them. They might end up betraying her later when the game starts, but she appreciates their concern. Not that she needed it.

“Thanks,” she says. “But I think I can manage. You guys worry about yourselves, you haven’t experienced real danger yet.”

The couple looks at her, at each other, then they shrug as if to say ‘Suit yourself.’

Chiyori’s gaze drops to their locked hands as they leave to go back to their corner. A twinge of longing cuts through her.

She thinks the game should start any minute now when a guy with black hair almost to his shoulders and a few face piercings walks in hesitantly, looking around in confusion as he taps his hand against an ear. Her eyebrows go up as she checks him out appreciatively.

“He’s new,” she remarks quietly to the couple. “You guys have been here only about a few days, I can tell.”

The girl whispers, “How’d you know?”

“You guys are pretty obvious, as is that guy. How?” Chiyori nods to the guy with piercings. “Look at his hands. He’s patting his pockets, and from the shape of it it’s a phone. Where he came from, it was loud, so he’s here to watch a game but when he entered the noise was gone. So he’s new new.”

Chiyori can tell that although they’re impressed, they’re unnerved by her. As most people are. So she pushes off the wall and saunters towards the guy who is now fiddling with his phone, trying to turn it on.

The way he hunches his shoulders tells her he is a private person, so she stops a respectable distance from him. “Hey.”

He lifts his head up to look at her, eyebrows furrowed. “What?” His voice snaps, almost defensively.

She doesn’t smile at him, thinking he seemed the type of person to think it was condescending. Instead, she points with her thumb to the table where only a few more cellphones were available. “Your phone is busted. Take one of those.”

He sneered at her and says, “Fuck off.”

Rolling her eyes, she says, “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto. Take a phone or you’re disqualified and trust me, you don’t want to be disqualified.”

He still makes no move to the table, so she takes his busted phone with a quick movement and throws it to the entrance of the stadium. The other players watch them, not wanting to intervene.

“You bitch, what—?!” His enraged shout is cut off when a red laser beams down from the ceiling and puts a hole into the phone. “What the fuck?!”

Chiyori locks her eyes with his, smirking at the contempt that he displays for her. “You came here to watch a game, did you? Which teams are playing? Doesn’t matter. You’re not here to watch. You’re here to play.” She shoves a new phone in his hands. “Humor me, would you?”

With a glare, he turns on the phone. Almost as soon as his face is done scanning, everybody’s phones start chiming.

“Let the games begin,” Chiyori says, her excitement evident.

𝐑 𝐄 𝐆 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓 𝐑 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍   𝐇 𝐀 𝐒   𝐂 𝐋 𝐎 𝐒 𝐄 𝐃

𝐓 𝐇 𝐄   𝐆 𝐀 𝐌 𝐄   𝐖 𝐈 𝐋 𝐋   𝐍 𝐎 𝐖   𝐂 𝐎 𝐌 𝐌 𝐄 𝐍 𝐂 ��

𝐆 𝐀 𝐌 𝐄 :   𝟐 𝟎 𝟎   𝐌 𝐄 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑   𝐑 𝐀 𝐂 𝐄

𝐃 𝐈 𝐅 𝐅 𝐈 𝐂 𝐔 𝐋 𝐓 𝐘 :   𝐓 𝐄 𝐍   𝐎 𝐅   𝐒 𝐏 𝐀 𝐃 𝐄 𝐒

When the difficulty level is announced, almost everyone starts cussing or panicking, apart from Chiyori and the guy with piercings.

She is momentarily breathless as memories of another Ten of Spades game come to her, but she shoves them at the back of her mind and turns her attention to the guy. Hostile he may be, something in her wants to help him. “This is the last time I’m gonna warn you. It’s kill or be killed, alright?”

He looks at her almost like a puppy, the angry facade he keeps up down for a moment.

“Welcome to the Borderlands,” she tells him.

They enter through another entrance to go into the arena itself. She hears the guy mutter in shock when he sees the arena. Like the rest of the Borderlands, the fauna is overgrown intermixed with other weeds and plants, except for a rectangular patch of land in the center where it was just plain dirt. Ostensibly 200 meters wide.

At the end closest to the entrance they came through is a long table full of weapons ranging from bows and arrows to javelins to throwing daggers. No guns. There are three people wearing grotesque halloween masks and nondescript clothes behind the table, waiting patiently for the game to start with hands clasped.

There were 21 participants in total. You know what they say: the more, the deadlier.

The guy in neon moved to grab a weapon off the table, but one of the dealers stopped him from doing so by brandishing a machete to his face. “Shit!” He squeaks. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing!”

The dealer with the machete brings one finger up to the lips of his mask, as if to sush him, then wags the finger like scolding a child. The other dealers gesture for them to wait for the rules.

Their phones chime once again. “Rule: Players must race through 200 meters to get to the other side. Condition: Finish the race within ten minutes.”

Chiyori smiles grimly, realizing what the weapons were for. She drops her denim jacket to the floor, revealing the burns on her arms, and readies herself.

“Start.”

She sprints ahead of everyone else, zigzagging and changing direction at random intervals. Screams start to rise. Behind her, the familiar squelch of someone being stabbed urges her to run faster. Someone manages to run even faster than her, even with her head start, but who said the game is about how quick you can finish the race?

A javelin goes through the head of the player.

Not even sparing them a glance, she jumps over the body - because that’s all the player is anymore, a body - and nearly collides with the guy from before. He looks like he wants her to die, but contradicts himself when he pushes her away from a flying arrow.

She barely gasps out a whisper of gratitude before they both continue their run. The timer loudly ticks down from the stadium’s screens.

They are only a few meters away from the finish line when she notices a small movement from behind the tall grass at the other end. She grabs the guy’s arm and pulls him while still keeping them in motion, albeit going back in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing?! The finish line’s right there!” He growls.

“Look again,” she snaps at him. “Someone’s waiting for us.”

He glances back and confirms it for himself. “What the fuck kind of dystopian shit is going on here?”

“These games are never simple,” she says.

By now, there were only about half of them still alive. A few have run past the two of them already, but Chiyori knew they would regret not thinking twice. She runs to a body that has a throwing axe deep into the side of her neck.

A glance at the starting line lets her know that the masked people only have a few weapons left to throw at them, but she still remains cautious in her running patterns as she runs to a few more bodies to collect more light throwing weapons. The guy follows her example, a bloody machete in hand.

They run back to the finish line, where a few of the others have begun to realize that there was one more masked person to torment them. Their weapon of choice? An actual roaring chainsaw.

“I should have stayed home!” The guy with piercings groans.

“Would’ve been the better choice,” she agrees.

The masked person slashed their chainsaw with reckless abandon at whoever dared to come close. One of the players was using someone’s lifeless body as a shield to get closer. Another player runs to the side of the race track, but a laser immediately comes for them.

Chiyori glances at the guy with piercings, locking eyes with him, darts her eyes to the masked person then back at him. He nods.

Holding her breath, she assumes a throwing stance. She brings the axe behind her head, then extends her arm forward while at the same time letting go of the weapon while keeping her wrist and elbow firm. It sinks into the masked person’s jugular.

Trusting that the guy would take over, she whips back to face the starting line and grabs the small throwing daggers she collected in each hand. Just in time to dodge a masked person’s forward slash. She drops to the floor and rolls over, kicking them on the head to dizzy them. She jumps on their back and uses another dagger to cut their throat open.

With her legs wrapped around their torso, she rolls both of them over just as several arrows lodge onto the masked person’s chest. Heart pounding at the close call, Chiyori throws her remaining daggers and knives in rapid succession towards where the arrows came from, hoping to buy time.

She crawls to the nearest body, who is rendered nearly headless by a curved blade. She pulls it out, spraying even more blood all over herself and the floor. When she looks up, she finds a masked person struggling to remove a knife embedded into their eye socket. Stopping for a second to marvel at her blind but successful aim, she puts them out of their misery with a swing of the blade.

Chiyori looks around for the third masked person, finding them grappling with another player. She turns her gaze to the guy with piercings, who seems to have successfully dispatched his opponent. He has his hands cupped around his mouth, shouting at her, but she is too far away to hear him clearly.

“... over here!”

“What?!” She screams.

The guy runs a hand through his hair in frustration, then points furiously at the stadium screens. She follows the direction of his finger, to find that there is only less than a minute left for her to cross about 100 meters to the finish line.

With no time to waste, she tightens her grip on the handle of the curved blade and runs for her life.

Chiyori is only a few feet away when a javelin twirls through the air and nicks her calf. She nearly drops at the pain, but perseveres and limps as fast as she can.

The guy with piercings picks up his opponent’s chainsaw and turns it on with a loud roar.

He sprints for the masked person making their way to Chiyori and slices them in half jaggedly.

With only twenty seconds left on the clock, he barks for the two other players in the finish line to help him drag Chiyori to safety, but only one actually does.

They cross the finish line with two seconds to spare.

Their phones chime in unison.

𝐆 𝐀 𝐌 𝐄   𝐂 𝐋 𝐄 𝐀 𝐑 𝐄 𝐃

𝐂 𝐎 𝐍 𝐆 𝐑 𝐀 𝐓 𝐔 𝐋 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 𝐒

They all pant in exhaustion, bodies slick with blood. Blood from the masked people, from the other players, from them. Chiyori can’t wait to go home and wash it all off, maybe take a week off from playing the games.

【 𝙶 𝙰 𝙼 𝙴 】

♤　♤　♤　♤　♤

♤　♤　♤　♤　♤

𝐖 𝐄   𝐖 𝐈 𝐋 𝐋   𝐒 𝐔 𝐏 𝐏 𝐋 𝐘   𝐀 𝐋 𝐋   𝐆 𝐀 𝐌 𝐄   𝐒 𝐔 𝐑 𝐕 𝐈 𝐕 𝐎 𝐑 𝐒  

𝐖 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇   𝐀   𝐓 𝐄 𝐍 - 𝐃 𝐀 𝐘   𝐕 𝐈 𝐒 𝐀

She struggles to stand, waving off any help offered to her.

Hand still gripping on the curved blade, she uses it to cut away at the long grass until she finds a small table with a single Ten of Spades card on it. Despite not having the need for it, she swipes it and hides it in her bra.

Chiyori limps back to where the others are. The guy with piercings has blood dripping down his nose, and a cut somewhere on his trunk causing the shirt he has on to cling to his form.

“Welcome to the Borderlands,” she repeats with a smile, referring to before the game started. “I’m Kuroba Chiyori. What’s your name?”

Warily, he considers the hand she offers for him to shake. He glances at her face, at her horrific smile, teeth stained with blood. He takes her small hand into his much larger one and slowly shakes it, feeling vaguely like he is making a deal with the devil.

“Niragi Suguru.”

[i-need-air]

Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader – Man on a mission.

Summary: Reader is an exchange student at UA, althought she could only stay one year. This is the journey and separation. What would Bakugou do once he realizes the girl he loves leaves? Could be angsty, but I promise a happy ending. 

Word count: ~3k.

When they first met neither of them cared about each other. The girl, too focused in eating the world and showing everyone her worth, barely gave him a glance the first day of school. Having transferred from the most prestigious American School for the year, working so, so hard to get there through a scholarship, [Y/N] was ready to kick ass, take names, get mediocre grades in Japanese History and get the attention of the top heroes of the world for her next internship. So, they just didn't care about each other.

But over time, as she got close to people in the 2-A class, even 2-B, her attitude and determination caught his attention. At first the girl pissed him off, being just an extra that will disappear in a year and will never see again, yet why was he staring so much? How come his eyes followed her figure as she walked away with Round-Face? How come he focused his attention on her too adorable giggle as dumbass Kaminari tried and failed miserably to flirt with her. And how come his friend pissed him off when he did that anyway? Oh, and let's not talk about how he never ever looked at her train, obviously not admiring her moves, her quirk, that look in her eyes. How he tried so fucking hard to not smile when she messed up a Japanese word and asked anyone around her how to pronounce it, giving no shits and only caring about getting better. He definitely didn't care about how she complimented his food that one time and Bakugou, the snake that he is, somehow manipulated Mina into convincing [Y/N] to cook with them, neither girls noticing him puppeteering the whole situation. So the [h/c] girl ended being part of the Bakusquad in record time, cooking and studying started to be a norm to do together. He didn't care that he got a whole zoo on crack in his stomach as she taught him how to cook food from her home-country or how good she smelled when she leaned closer to his frame, both sitting in his room, books spread around them as she questioned something about grammar. He definitely didn't lose his breath when she casually asked him if she could call him Katsuki, earning a grunt and a Do what you want. from the boy, ears flushed.

But Bakugou was hesitant. Of course he was, she was going to leave at the end of the year yet after the first internships started he realized that he's gonna miss that giggle. Her everything actually. And maybe they'll never see each other again. The boy had his own goals, he wanted to reach number one, he wanted to be the best. Was she a distraction? Because he never considered her one, daring to say he's more driven now... Was it a stretch to consider her made for him? Because that's what he thought all the time and these feelings were eating him alive. In a cool manner, he still had to maintain his reputation, excuse you.

[Y/N] [L/N] had a crush. A big crush on a rather abrasive young man. The moment she realized an overwhelming feeling engulfed her, taking away the very needed sleep as the following day she'd intern with the Hawks. Yet getting zero sleep that night, reality slapped her so hard she didn't even feel fatigue for 36 hours afterwards.

Bakugou Katsuki stole her heart and it was doomed for heartbreak. So separation and moving on was the plan.

Although it seemed like something went over her head. She fell in love with a stubborn motherfucker, yet neither of them knew at the time the lengths he'd go just to be together.

After some time of avoiding each other everything felt wrong. Studying wasn't the same, food didn't taste as good as before when she wasn't half moaning half praising his efforts, her cute way of pronouncing things actually turned into a good accent and even if a time came for the girl to ask for correction, [Y/N] decided to ask anyone else but him. Both were getting stronger separately, finding other training partners and things started to slowly go back to what it was at the beginning of the year, leaving a sour taste in Bakugou's mouth. How come she stole his heart? And how come now she was breaking it without noticing?

And here they were, together sitting outside their living quarters, just staring at the darkening skies, both lost in thought. Once strangers turned into friends and now back at the beginning. Yet the air was calm as it always was between them, like old friends meeting after years of not seeing each other even when they met every day.

"I'm gonna miss this place..." she muttered, gulping down the uneasiness rising in her throat. One more month and she'd leave. One more month and whatever they had would be erased forever. "I'm gonna miss you..." she whispered, deciding it was the time to take this burden off her chest once and for all. For herself, her well being, to explain her shitty attitude although his wasn't better. "I'm... I'm gonna miss your stupid face..." came out in another whisper, lips trembling as she avoided his eyes but when she heard a broken chuckle, strained and forced, her eyes snapped towards him.

His palm was covering his eyes, heart in his throat, not believing that everything lead to this moment.

"You spent too much time with me, dumbass." she blinked stupidity, precious orbs watching him carefully not even trying to hide the shine of tears appearing. "You sound like me now." she chucked too, bitter and quiet.

"I didn't spent enough time..."

And everything just turned back to what they had. As when they were alone in one of their rooms, sharing stories, watching movies, listening to music, each doing their own thing in harmony. So they talked, curfew approaching rapidly but there were many things unsaid. There was no clear confession but her little moment of truth opened a door that has been closed for both of them for a long time now. Actually... Not only the door, all the windows and doors were now wide opened, barricades and walls demolished down and everything flowed naturally. Who would've thought? Katsuki told himself while walking her to her door. He was soft, he has forgiven her in an instant for all the zig-zagging around him, feeling relieved since he felt guilt for doing the same. The stupid dancing around somehow ended when they reached her room, silence filling the air.

"You're a dumbass..." he said yet didn't know if it was thrown to [Y/N] or to himself. The rich laugh earned from her made him smirk. God, how much he missed it.

"You're the one to talk?" she pushed his shoulder gently, yet for the love of god, none knew what the fuck this conversation was really about. Before she could retreat the hand thought, he grabbed it, palms sweaty, fingers surprisingly gentle.

"[Y/N]." he responded, that zoo on crack in his stomach seemed to take life again. They didn't have much time anymore.

No verbal confession was made that night, both scared, terrified of voicing out anything that would instantly throw them back towards their concerns. Yet the sweet, slow kiss they shared got imprinted in their memories forever.

Her third year passed rather quickly, yet this time she was more glued to the phone. Many of her old friends noticed, inquiring who was the boy that she was talking to so much, all in teasing manner, none noticing how her lips would flatten and her expression fell for one second before answering back in a similarly teasing way too. Training, studying, going out with friends but never looking at another guy the way she looked at Bakugou Katsuki. Time flew while they both found a way to stay in touch, as limited as it was through the time zones and goals they individually had to reach.

Memories of their last month reconnecting and stepping up into a new world together, almost together but not official, sneaky kisses stolen from time to time, teasing each other but always with a hint of uncertainty, hugs that lasted a little bit too much yet none caring, cuddles and whispers when alone. But nothing else. Oh, how she regretted it. Not kissing him harder, not hugging him longer. Not telling him clearly that she loved him. Not crying when they parted ways because she sure as hell felt like doing so. They only promised to stay in touch when finally getting a time alone on that last fateful day. Being surrounded by her new friends crying around her, saying their goodbyes and promises of meeting somehow someday. That's when he snatched her for their final time alone. That's when she told him to not forget about them, yet again, never addressing their feelings. And he grunted at her, stoic, constipated looking, a face she'd normally make fun of if it weren't for the gravity of the situation.

But they messaged at odd times, they'd create inside jokes and they'd talk on the phone, his voice always doing things to her.

"I've seen the fight, you were amazing!" she said while carefully picking his face in the voice call, re-learning his expressions, remembering caressing the same cheekbones that now were bruised after a big fight in his internship with Endeavor that could all be seen online.

"Course I was, woman." he said, small yet boyish grin on his face. [Y/N] wanted to laugh, tease and be normal around him in this limited time together but Jirou's words stopped her.

"It's insane. The Bakugou Katsuki has a fan-base now! Like... Girls confess to him every week, he gets love letters! Kirishima makes fun of him but we all know he's jealous–"

Keeping in contact with the people from UA was a blessing and a curse, the latter because of those words. He changed so much, people were starting to see him for what he really was and a selfish voice inside of her was screaming that only her could know this side of him. And at the same time feeling she'd never deserve him.

Without being able to bite her tongue, she inquired.

"So I heard you have fangirls now." bright smile way too shiny, her discomfort was so obvious even through the screen.

"Hah?" was his only answer, leaning closer to his Webcam with a frown.

"A little birdie told me." she shrugged, playing it cool, perfectly knowing she'd never be able to play anything cool to save her life.

"And who gives a shit 'bout that?" I do... almost was her reply. But no, she had to squeeze her own heart and milk the pain out of it.

"I mean, haven't you thought about it?"

"Think about what?" he rasped rather angrily.

"You know, having a girlfriend and so on...?"

"What...?" his disbelief clear on his face, suddenly morphing into anger, now clear and raw. "What the fuck are you even saying, [Y/N]!?" he shouted, breathing heavily. "Are you trying to tell me somethin'? Cuz if you are, you better say it clearly!"

"I–" I'm jealous, you deserve someone by your side, I love you. Please, don't look at someone else. Please, don't kiss someone else... Please, be mine.

"Yano what, I'm done for today, fuck off, will ya?" and with a growl, he finished the call.

The promise she made herself about not crying was slowly breaking, her reflection in the now dark computer screen showing her idiotic self about to burst in tears but she clearly didn't reach that point when an incoming call interrupted her self pity.

"Like fucking shit I'd let go of what we have, dumb woman." is all she needed to hear that day and she did.

"So it seems I need to work a year in America before I could have a contract with any other Hero Agency. Hawks made it clear that he wants me back as his side-kick with Tokoyami but..." It hurt, stupid laws and contracts and scholarships and feelings. Stupid life and stupid everything.

"Only a year, huh?" he said on the other side of the line.

Looking for a roommate was tough. Wanting to put an ease on her rent and to save money for a future she was starting to see more clearly, the woman had some interviews with some potential roomies but none were convincing. Maybe she was picky, but she got this apartment first, picked the best room and her landlady gave her full permission to pick anyone for her. Which was a blessing, really.

So the cat girl with 4 cats was an option. The guy that eyed her a little bit too much was out of the equation. There was another guy scheduled to come see the apartment that afternoon and, the best part, she was getting a package from Katsuki. He offered, actually. Said something about new house gift, brushing it off casually with his trademark snide remark about how he'd send her some cleaning shit. What an asshole, but hell, even if he did send her cleaning products, she'd cry out of happiness.

The guy talked to her through messages, asking basic questions and nothing more. Time to give another tour and talk about rent was coming yet she silently decided to give this guy a nice brief chat, throw him out and look for a girl roommate, even if Bakugou said it didn't matter and should interview both. "You know, to get it over with." little voice still screaming she'd mind if he had a woman as a roomie, but then again, they were nothing...

As 3 P.M. approached, she got a message.

From [Random dude #2 David]:

"I'll be late, hope you don't mind."

Of fucking course he was going to be late. The first impression? Annoying. What if she had things to do? Like wait for a package and then call Katsuki to open it with him there. Random David was pissing her off already.

Half an hour later the doorbell interrupted her thoughts as she stared blankly at her phone. The last messages she sent her... friend didn't actually reach him. And it's been 10 hours? Maybe he was called on a mission. But already? Endeavor surely didn't waste time, huh?

With a sigh she opened the door, ready to greet Random David when her eyes landed on a suitcase in front of her door. Her ears perked at the sound of another suitcase rolling towards her door, basically making her freak out because Random David was definitely not going to live with her now. And slowly, a guy came in her field of vision and the world stopped functioning.

Bakugou Katsuki, with a box over one of his shoulders and as she guessed, another suitcase in hand, reached her door, elevator ding snapping her out of her... uh... dream? Fantasy? Back shirt, dark jeans, messy hair and The Look™ he always had for her.

"Well, I'm here to look at the apartment." he grinned, about to burst into an ugly laughter at her dumb face. Everything until this point was worth it because that face? That face was all he needed. Yeah, the dumb mouth opening and closing, eyes big as plates, frozen in place.

"If you..." she muttered. "If you fucking tell me you're David, I will end you..."

"Ya better not call me that, woman." he said, taking a step towards her, putting the baggages down.

"Are you really here...?"

"What does it look like, huh? Now let me in, I need to sit down, I fucking hate long flights."

Rushing him in, hands trembling, words stuttering, [Y/N] [L/N] was in awe at the man in front of her. She knew, she definitely knew he was absolutely amused by her reaction but there was no helping it.

"You're here..." pulling him inside by his hand, it was so warm, just as always. "Holy shit, you're here."

"Aha, but don't get used to it, woman." he said, leaving the suitcases behind him, arms just wrapping loosely around her waist.

"Huh?" he touched her face, the scent of nitroglycerin invading her nostrils. Same scent she missed so much in the past year.

"Only for a year, then I'm taking you back home with me, understood?"

Although she didn't reply, she couldn't, as she only pulled the collar of his shirt towards her, ready to make up for all the time they threw away. So their lips met and their new life started.

Endeavor worked closely with various hero agencies in America and Bakugou Katsuki asked to be sent there for a year, or more so demanded, leaving the older man speechless. Yet with a single word from Shouto, everything was set running and Bakugou knew he'd have yo return the favor to Icy-Hot someday, but for now she was all that mattered. So when he helped her apartment hunt (even long distance), when he told her to look into this or that Hero agencies (knowing they'd work close to his), when he'd tell her to not mind male roommates (even if he minded, he minded very much), it was all towards the surprise for her.

Bakugou Katsuki was a man on a mission and he realized that in his third year at UA. He was going to be number one. He was going to be the best hero ever. And he was going to have [Y/N] by his side. Always.

Notes: I'm leaving this here since idk man, I had too much coffee and wrote this without blinking. Correlation with the notes? Don't question it. Anyway!! Pretty please, tell me what you thought of it and if anyone here knows how to add the Read More mark on phone, I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd explained me how. I'm way too old for this, I swear, lmfao. Thank you for reading, seriously. Hope you enjoyed and have a great day! ♥

[straw-of-the-hat]

A Lillian x Katsuki soulmate au???? I'm sorry but soulmate au's are a hole i have fallen far into.

Lillian x Katsuki: soulmate edition

(Not edited! Expect typos!!!!)

These headcanons belong to this fic.

-Soulmates are rare. So terribly rare, in fact, that few still believe they exist. They're more of a legend these days— a myth, if you will. Despite this, everyone seems to know what they are. And deep down, everyone wants one.

-Katsuki's parents aren't soulmates. His grandparents aren't either. His aunt and uncle aren't soulmates in the least. In fact, they'd gotten a divorce last June and has left one another on rather nasty terms last he heard.

-His mom used to tell him stories. Stories about meeting your fated other and becoming so indescribably complete that you'd wonder how you even functioned before. It was the few times his mother would go from loud and rambunctious to serene and soft. Her change in demeanor was how he knew, growing up, that she was telling the truth..

-Of course, he wouldn't tell anyone he thought they were true. Or that he daydreamed about finding one.

-Katsuki felt he was missing something. It made him mad that it wasn't there. Something in him was empty and gnawing. He wasn't sure why. He had a powerful quirk and was praised by those around him for such. He made good grades. He even had a couple extras to follow him around.

-A soulmate was what he was missing, he deduced for what had to be the millionth time. Not that he'd tell anyone.

-Becoming the number one hero was his chance. The only way he'd ever hunt them down! He'd be known worldwide, and somewhere, someday, they'd know.

-That, and he'd be the strongest hero ever. Which was just the sprinkles on top really.

-He joined UA, angry and not willing to make friends. He noticed someone rather quick. He had never dated or really had his eye on anyone. If he was going to be with anyone, it would be his soulmate.

-So why on God's green motherfucking earth did Lillian Faust draw his attention?

-He didn't know. He had no idea! He tried to talk to her, but she was honestly pathetic. Short, scrawny, shy. He dwelled on her constantly. Constantly! He'd stare at her, doodle her in his notebook absentmindedly, try to count the freckles on her face and arms. It was just this constant nagging feeling that drove him nuts.

-He decided she was an extra. An irritating one.

-She kicked ass at the USJ shortly thereafter. He rescended his decision that she was a nobody.

-There was something up with Lillian. Lillian, who'd stopped using her last name. She walked home with friends, so he didn't get the chance to confront her anymore. The blonde one would bark at him. Literally. Like a dog. Fucking pathetic.

-Things were hard after that. Lillian, Lillian, Lillian. His parents started to ask what the fuck was wrong. Why was he so quiet? Did he need help? Was he depressed? Why was his search history all UA's digital yearbook? Was he looking at his student photo?

-He was looking at Lillian's, actually. Like he'd tell them that.

-Strangely enough, he wasn't embarrassed about this... Whatever this was. He didn't being it up because he's get teased, but it didn't bother him like it should've. He was irritated and confused because he couldn't figure this out, but not... Not annoyed with her, or disgusted.

-He thought long and hard. He was shit with feelings. Complete, utter shit. He went over the facts one at a time.

-Lillian was strong. With her quirk, she could stop him in his tracks. There was no a way to stop someone who could blink and freeze you in place without you even knowing she'd done it until after the fact. This should've angered him, but it didn't. It made him... Want to laugh.

-She had long black hair and was covered in freckles. Her hair was always messy and he found it endearing. He wanted to count and trace her freckles. There were so many, and he could almost map out constellations with them the more he looked.

-Katsuki's favorite color had been red his whole life. Lillian's eyes were aqua blue. Subsequently enough, his favorite color had switched to that exact shade of blue shortly after he joined UA. Odd. Probably not a coincidence, he begrudgingly admitted.

-He would not mind hugging her. He sort of wanted to. The more he thought about it, the more okay it seemed. That wouldn't be that odd if he hasn't blown up Kaminari yesterday after he'd accidentally brushed shoulders with him.

-A bit of google searching had him at a simple yet horrifying conclusion. This was, without a doubt, a crush.

-They next few days had his head spinning. He'd never had a crush before, so why now? Where had he gone wrong? What had triggered it? Could he make it go away?

-He practically drilled holes in her head in the days leading up to the sports festival. He may as well have been drooling. He deduced that his crush was going nowhere.

-He almost ran into her in the hall just before the festival, in fact. She was dressed in shorts and a shirt that said "Team Eraserhead" on it, and had her hair up in a ponytail that was falling apart. She was sweaty and breathless, and clearly in some sort of pain, but she... Well, she smiled.

-He was gone. Done for, really. Something was amiss, and he didn't know how to make it stop. Lillian has hooked him, and boy was he sinking right now. What was going on?

-She won the race with her two friends in the first round, and one piece clicked into place. Nothing enough to give him any sort of full picture, but it was... something. Something deeper than a crush.

-She dominated in the second round with ease and surprising confidence. He felt annoyed watching her laugh with Shoto Todoroki. Jealous, even. Another piece clicked.

-She asked him to join some sort of fucking protection squad. She was kind and genuine. He couldn't say no. It was another piece.

-Talking to her made him less angry. He felt calm and more like himself than he had... well, ever really. He was collected, and just... happy. He could laugh, and smile, and roll his eyes in a teasing way. This was another piece. One to a nearly full picture. One he could almost make out.

-The last piece fell into place during the final portion of the sports festival. Before it started, they had all the contestants come out and shake hands with one another. It was sort of a show of good faith. One he didn't want to participate in.

-But then it was time to shake Lillian's hand. And the stadium's roar fell on deaf ears, and everyone else ceased to exist. The cameras zoomed in on them, and Present Mic made some witty remark about opposites colliding. But Katsuki couldn't look away from Lillian, and neither could she.

-Their hands collided. And everything seemed to change in an instant.

-Her hand was small and warm in his, and it sent a shockwave rippling out. It was powerful and physical. Not something he'd imagined based on how silent the stadium got. His world brightened, and he couldn't believe how full it'd been before. Lillian's eyes were so much... Fuller than he'd realized. Full of blues he hadn't realized existed.

-There was silence. He didn't let go. She didn't either. They just stood there in the eerie silence, staring at one another in shock. And Bakugo realized he didn't feel so empty anymore.

-He told her in a quiet voice that carried through the entire stadium that she was his soulmate. That she was what had been missing.

-Her brilliant smile and the roar of the crowd told him he wasn't wrong.

More:

-Scientists contact them and want to study their bond, but they refuse.

-Being apart makes Katsuki antsy. It doesn't feel right when she's not there.

-Aizawa despises him

-So does Mic but in a more passive aggressive manner.

-Lillian can feel Katsuki very vividly and knows when he's in any sort of emotional turmoil.

-Hitoshi and Neito are very, very weary of him and he's constantly under a microscope when they're around. Of course he doesn't give a shit

-The world now knows there's soulmates. Everyone in that stadium felt that wave, and the camera literally picked it up. There's a new frenzy of people trying to find their other half

-A few actually do. But only a few.

-Mitsuki and Masaru don't believe it. When their son comes home, he's just as rude as he's always been.

-But then Lillian shows up, cleaned up after the festival. And she wraps their son in a hug, and Katsuki is smiling and laughing in a way they've never seen

-They love Lillian for giving him that

-Katsuki can feel Lillian's nerves and knows how to calm them

-The class is hyper-aware of everything they do. Every glance Katsuki throws her is met with a wolf whistle and every whisper exchanged us observed with curious eyes

-Lillian and Katsuki learn not to mind

-They fit together so naturally. Lillian couldn't even imagine being anxious around him, and she doesn't know why. She's just... not.

-When they first kiss it feels natural and a lot like coming home

-They're a fairly private and subtle couple. 1-A almost doesn't think they're together until the dorms come into play.

-It's the way Lillian throws her legs over Katsuki's when they're sitting on the couch, and the manner in which Bakugo puts an arm over her shoulders and leans into her to look at something on her phone that tells them.

-He's softer with her. Still himself, but kinder in a way. It's so... Normal. It makes sense without making any at all at the exact same time. The way they talk to each other is simply how it's meant to be, they guess

-They're pitted against each other in hero training one day by drawing lots. It's completely by chance, and supposed to be just simple hand to hand combat

-They just stand there and stare at one another. And when Aizawa asks what the hold up is, they just blink. They simply... don't. They can't. It's not possible. It makes zero sense in their minds. The idea couldn't even occur to them, even for training purposes.

-So, they're not put against one another anymore. They find it's for the best.

-Anytime one of them is hurt, the other had a very obvious reaction. Lillian falls and scrapes up her knee quite nastily, and Katsuki is already turning around with wide eyes. He looks like he's seem a ghost. The same thing happens to Lillian, whether the injury is big or small.

-They're practicing working in teams and get paired together. All Might and Aizawa have never once in their lives seen a more efficient team. Their quirks are stronger and more durable when they're together, they realize.

-Katsuki tells Lillian he loves her. It's stated in a very matter-of-fact way, as though it's obvious.

-And it is. Lillian loves him too. She tells him as such.

-Overall, they're just two peas in a pod. And everything just... Fits.

[wickedlyqueer]

Holy Poly

Ever since @gliyerabaa became obsessed with the Glinda/Fiyero/Elphaba ship it suddenly reminded me I wrote a poly fic years ago where essentially the Charmed Circle lived together and most of them were dating each other.

I never finished or published it, because I’m first and foremost a gelphie ho. to a point it felt wrong to be calling it a poly fic, bc I just wanted to focus on the gelphie dynamic.

Anyway, because I promised Rae (and I’m sure they’d love to see some gliyeraba content they didn’t write themself) this was the intro chapter of the modern AU, fresh out of college, poly chapter I wrote like 3 years ago.

Save the trees!

Perhaps every accidental cluster of people had a short period of grace. Although gracious was probably not the best word to describe the weirdly formed, yet close-knit circle. Exuberant. Loud. Queer. Those were better words. A loving found family that could not been torn apart even if fate wanted it to.

Neither was their time together short-lived. At least, not if it was up to Glinda. After most of them had graduated last summer, the crushing college debt and the terrifying world that was job hunting in a broken economic system made the decision on cohabitation all the easier.

On the outskirts of Shiz they had found their home: a small house with just enough room for the six of them to not suffocate. It was nothing fancy, but none of them would want it any other way. 

“Elphie’s not here?”

Glinda had entered the living room where the boys were spread lazily across their two mismatched couches bought at a garage sale.

“Nope, left quite a while ago,” Boq replied.

“Aren’t they at their usual train station spot harassing people?” 

“Language, Crope,” from the kitchen came Fiyero’s rich voice. “Spreading awareness about global warming isn’t the same as harassing.”

“Fine. It’s annoying people then.”

“Not everyone finds that awareness crap annoying,” Tibbett said, throwing a casual glance at Glinda. “I believe someone went weak at the knees for that.”

She felt a blush creeping up; not for the comment he made, but for the comment that was about to come. It had turned into an inside joke in their circle, and she had learned from experience that the less she objected the more humiliation she was spared.

“Is it?” Crope wiggled his eyebrows. “The way I heard, she complimented Elphie on their dedication to the cause for painting their entire visage green.”

The trio threw a fist in the air and shouted in unison, “Save the trees!” without their attention leaving the screen. 

“I hate every single one of you.” 

“You can’t deny that’s how it went, Glin,” Fiyero commented. “Have you tried texting by the way?”

“I think their phone died,” she checked one more time for any messages, but still no response from Elphaba. “Remind me to ambush them again for getting a decent phone.”

“At least they lost that brick phone.”

Crope snorted. “Yeah, right. Lost.”

Tibbett gave him a wicked smile. “No fun in being a tattletale, babe.”

Whatever they were grinning about it was Crope and Tibbett, and Glinda prefered to stay ignorant on the subject. She headed towards the kitchen where Fiyero was cooking dinner. A towel hanging over his shoulder and his beautiful long black hair stuffed in a loose bun so no strains could spoil the food.

“Smells good, Yero.” She wrapped her arms around his belly, and stretched out completely on her tiptoes and almost managed to put her chin on his shoulder. “If only I could see if it looks as equally good.”

Fiyero laughed heartily and sank through his knees so Glinda could see better. “How about now?”

She smiled. “So far this meal is Glinda-approved.”

“That’s all I need.”

A cheer came from Boq from the living room having beaten the other two at the game. 

“I think I’m going to check the train station,” Glinda said as she let go off Fiyero; the pose was growing uncomfortable for the both of them. Their height difference was ridiculous. How she had ended up with two partners so much taller than her was beyond her.

“Oh, you know what you should do? Call Nessa. Maybe she can contact Elphie through their sibling telepathy.”

“I think that only works when they have something to bicker about,” Glinda said, but dialed the number anyway. “Goes straight to voicemail.”

“Why do those two even have phones?” Fiyero muttered. 

“Okay, so train station and then I’ll drop by Nessa’s dorm to check on her too. Any other places Elphie might be?”

Four voices spoke as one. “The library.”

“Should’ve figured that one out myself.”

“Glin, you do know Elphie’s like a cat, right? They always find their way back home eventually.”

“I know, but I feel like going outside for a bit. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Sure thing. Oh, and Glinda?”

She turned around. “Hm?”

He took her hand and planted a chaste kiss on her fingertips. “Can I just say you look absolutely wonderful today?”

She beamed. “You’re too charming for your own good Fiyero.” 

“It’s why he has so many partners,” Crope called from the couch, apparently eavesdropping on the conversation. There was zero privacy in this house. “Too handsome too. Who could say no to that gorgeous face?”

“Not us,” added Tibbett. “And don’t forget that he’s a flirt without realizing it. It just comes natural to him and it’s adorable.”

Fiyero had the advantage that his dark skin hid most of his blush, but knowing him since high school, Glinda knew what a flustered Fiyero looked like. 

“I just got a lot of love to share, I guess,” he smiled shyly. “Let me know when you find Elphaba, okay? Dinner will be ready around seven.” 

--

Elphaba wasn’t at the library and neither were they at the train station. All Glinda found there were old memories. She could see the young, nervous girl fresh from the Pertha Hills standing on the platform. Fiyero’s steady hand on her shoulder to ease her worries. Had four years really passed so quickly?

She traced her footsteps from the past. Her gaze wandering over the square in front of the train station like it did then. The only thing that was missing, was a green person storming towards her. From that moment on she was captivated by Elphaba, although the first few months she had let her socialite behavior overrule.

“You could’ve disclosed in our online correspondence that you’re green!” 

She had whined once she had found out the Green-Tree-From-Shiz-Station was her roommate. Elphaba had pointed at the five enormous trunks brought into their room by an upperclassman.

“Only if you had disclosed you would bring your entire house with you.”

Glinda had thought the roommate matching system had completely failed her. No way had she the highest match with a snarky, social-reclusive green person! It had taken her some time to realize they were ridiculously similar, just coming from different angles.

Her path down memory lane continued when she entered Shiz campus. It only had been two months ago since she graduated, but it already felt foreign being here. As if she no longer fitted. A group of giggling first year students passed her. Glinda recognized her own innocence in them back at that age. Feeling as if you’re on top of the world only because you have yet to learn what that world entailed.

Unconsciously she had walked to Crage Hall. She admired the building when a busted up blue van pulled over. It was Elphaba’s. They all jokingly referred to it as the Abduction Truck, because that’s how sketchy it looked. 

Elphaba got out and moved over to the back of the truck. The only reason Elphaba had bought that van was to drive Nessa around. Normally they were a very dedicated public transport advocate, and although Elphaba would deny it, Glinda knew they’d bend their own morals to please Nessa.

Glinda walked towards the car and Elphaba looked surprised. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Looking for you actually.”

“Oh?” 

Elphaba opened the backdoors to reveal a Nessa waiting impatiently to be led out. “You do take your time don’t you, Elphaba? The air conditioner was already turned off and in this heated garbage tin can of yours I could’ve already suffocated. Hello Glinda.”

“Hey Nessa.”

Elphaba lifted the ramp from the truck. “And yet you still live. The Unnamed God must have favorites after all.”

Nessa rolled her eyes. “Just open a window next time, please?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Elphaba vastened the ramp and Nessa rode her wheelchair to the pavement.

Elphaba shoved the ramp back inside and closed the door. Glinda walked towards them and was met with a strong smell. She sniffed Elphaba’s shirt and got worried. “Why do you smell like chlorine? Were you near water?”

Elphaba gestured to Nessa. “Had to drive this kid to Red Sand.”

“Your half year check-up! I completely forgot.” One of the reasons why Elphaba had bought the van was so Nessa could study at Shiz. Every six months they had to drive all the way to Red Sand where Nessa had to do exercises in a swimming pool. That’s what Glinda understood of it at least. “How was it?”

“Still pretty paralyzed,” Nessa supplied dryly.

“Doctor Kazhki said your legs were looking healthy.”

“As healthy as they can be paralyzed, yes.”

Glinda tugged at Elphaba’s hand before the argument could escalate. “Hey, you vanished without a single message.”

Elphaba frowned. “No I didn’t, I sent you a text and—ah,” they had gotten their phone out. “Must’ve died before it was sent.”

“No way!” Glinda feigned surprise. “Tomorrow we’re gonna get you a new phone and I won’t hear any of your usual excuses.”

“Can you do your flirting somewhere that isn’t in front of me?” Nessarose disrupted them. “I’m going inside.”

She wheeled away.

“Thanks for the ride, Fabala. Oh no problem, Nessie.” 

Nessa turned around and stuck out her tongue. “If you can converse with yourself, what do you need me for?” 

“Ungrateful brat.”

It was their way of saying goodbye. Being an only child Glinda still had no idea how sibling relationships worked. Especially those of the Thropps.

“Go kiss your girlfriend.” Nessarose waved without looking behind and went into the building. 

Elphaba turned around and smirked. They wrapped their arms around Glinda’s waist. “Well you heard her.”

Glinda raised her eyebrows teasingly. “Since when do you take orders from your sister, hm?”

“Wow. You ruined the moment.” But they smiled and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t notify you.”

“All is forgiven. You’re here now.”

It was a beautiful afternoon and without another word between them they had agreed to walk around campus. Glinda curled into Elphaba’s arm. She had done it so many times before it was like second nature. She had loved strolling around campus with Elphaba, back when they were still at Shiz. Near the Suicide Canal they settled down in the grass and soaked up the nice autumn sun while it was still warm.

Glinda leaned into Elphaba and smiled. “This brings back memories.” 

“Curled up in my arms after one of our many picnics at the Suicide Canal? Whatever gave you that idea?” Elphaba teased.

Glinda nudged them playfully. “Sentimentality, I suppose. My entire walk I’ve been seeing myself through a looking glass.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, like at the train station I remembered–” Glinda stopped dead in her tracks. How could she have let that one slip!

Elphaba let out a roaring laugh. “Are you referring to our ‘meet-cute’?”

Her entire face had turned bright red. “It wasn’t cute, I’m still embarrassed by it.” 

“Aw, don’t be. It was actually refreshing from all the usual green freak insults.”

“How? I thought you were going for a metaphor to reflect a greener planet! I didn’t even consider a green person existing. How is that less offensive?”

“True, but then you became so flustered when I looked at you funny. I’ll never forget how you threw a fist in the air and yelled ‘save the trees!’ to show your support.”

Glinda buried her face into her hands. “Oh god.”

Elphaba laughed. “It was cute” and put their face closer. “You’re cute.”

“You’re making it worse,” Glinda’s words sounded muffled through her hands.

They planted a comforting kiss in her hair. “We still ended up like this, so it couldn’t have been all that bad, right?”

“I suppose,” her embarrassment fading, Glinda let herself fall back on Elphaba’s shoulder. “I thought I’d never see you again after that. Big surprise waited ahead of me. God, I thought you were a senior or something. No other freshman I know functioned that entire first week, and there you were, already trying to make the world a better place.” 

She felt Elphaba smile. “I was such a determined little fuck back then. I didn’t even sign up. I got off the train and saw the group of volunteers and basically pestered them until they gave me a jacket and some flyers to hand out.”

“And they haven��t gotten rid of you since.”

“Nope. I’m the best thing that happened to them.”

Glinda paused, weighing her words before saying, “And to me.”

“Damn, you are sentimental today,” Elphaba noted. 

Glinda took Elphaba’s chin and slowly lowered it until their eyes were leveled. Just before their lips touched she whispered, “You’re ruining the moment.”

“Now we’re even,” Elphaba murmured, smiling into the kiss.

--

A/N: to be clear of all the dynamics (bc they are very entangled and a bit of a mess): - Glinda is asexual and through high school became very dependable on Fiyero (as he was the first person she ever came out too). Dependable to a point they couldn’t imagine their lives separately. So it falls more in a QPR relationship, where their platonic bond is unbreakable. - Elphaba is non-binary, bi and aromantic. Their relationship with Glinda is definitely the most couple-y, and can be classified as a “typical” romantic relationship. They also connected with Fiyero instantly and fell for his charms. - Fiyero is very poly because this boy’s got a lot of love to share! He’s also aro (which might seem contradictory, but it’s something I’ve seen a lot of overlap with, funnily enough!) and so his relationship are very platonic/sexual based. he has that sort of relationship with Elphaba, Crope&Tibbett and one or two other people outside the charmed circle. - Tibbet’s genderfluid and good with any pronouns and will raid Glinda’s closet on any occasion. In an open relationship with Crope and they obviously communicate incredibly well with this. - Crope’s just very gay.  - Boq is a trans guy and aro/ace. He’s the only not in a typical “relationship” and definitely isn’t looking for that either, but he can’t live without his chosen family. Together with Fiyero, they’re basically the “dads” of the group and keeps everyone in check. 

If anyone wants to run with these dynamics; you have my blessing! I won’t be continuing this story but if it inspired you feel free to build on it!

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Four: The One With the Wine

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2629

    "I'm telling you! I was standing right there, he could not take his eyes off of you! Buddy was one hundred percent into you." Gen laughed while tossing a kernel of popcorn into her mouth, chasing it with a sip of cherry wine.

Lily crossed her legs, shaking her head, tucking her hands into the oversized grey sweater she wore. Never in her life would she believe someone could be so taken with her. Especially someone who looked like Bucky. He was more than just a man, he was a whole different kind of breed. From the story, his eyes were able to tell. Or how his mannerisms gave away the constant anxiety coursing through him. Everything about Bucky told a story. The scruff that outlined his jaw, the perfect cut of his hair. He was the type of man Lily dreamed of, that most girls dreamed of. Rugged, mysterious, brooding. But his voice, soft, yet deep and gravelly. Perfection, in the eyes of Lily. And yet, she didn't know anything about him.

"You're delusional. we had a two-minute conversation where I spoke two words, maybe," Lily chuckled while pulling her sweatpant-covered knee to her chest, "There's no way in hell he was looking at me how you claim. It's just...nope. Impossible."

A groan escaped Gen's lips as Lily watched her throw her head back and lean against the arm of the couch, "Would you stop with your self-deprivation? Lily, you are beautiful! You have a beautiful son, a beautiful home, a too-good-to-be-true dog, and look like you should be a model," Gen chuckled, sipping her wine, "I never understood your ability to be insecure."

Lily answered with a gentle shrug. It was in her DNA, she supposed. She's always been insecure and down on herself. Her parents booked her in for counselling because just like her son, she too faced development issues. She never spoke, kept to herself. She'd busy her hands and mind with drawing, reading, and writing. It was later discovered her IQ was off the charts for her age. Eventually, she began to talk again, but she never believed herself to be pretty, or have an overall appealing personality.

It's what kind of made Gen and her work as a friendship. Gen was confident and carefree, living her best life and just taking it every day at a time. She never fretted about the future or focused on the past. And on the other hand, Lily was neurotic. Insecure. Living in the past, especially the years of emotional trauma from her ex-husband. She planned the future and tried to always ensure what would happen. The yin and yang of newcomers high school in long island. No one understood their friendship, or how it managed to stay alive. But it did, and it saved Lily from venturing into dark areas of her mind multiple times.

"We should text him!" Gen squealed while grabbing Lily's phone off the table

"You're funny. I don't even have his number, doe doe." Lily grinned, leaning back against a pillow as she watched Gen try to think of a retort.

"Noo, but Sam Wilson gave you his. Maybe, just maybe, he could give you Mr. Barnes’s number." Gen winked while typing in the blonde's password, pulling up the contact that lily had created for the falcon.

Rolling her forest green eyes, Lily pulled herself off the couch and towards the kitchen next to it. She poured herself another glass of wine before pulling out the blueberry pancakes she had grabbed earlier, watching as Gen's fingers typed feverishly on the iPhone 11 that Lily gratefully owned. Shaking her head, the blonde put the pancakes onto a plate and stuck them in the microwave for a minute. She could hear the clicking of Gen's fingers against the phone screen and a small chuckle escaped the girl’s plush lips.

"What're you doing? Typing him a whole novel?" Lily called, turning down the volume on the Amazon Echo that currently played nineties tunes.

"No, he's just fast at answering. Aaaand...I got the number!" Gen squealed and hopped off the couch towards the kitchen where Lily stood, "What should his name be? Hunky Bucky? Mr. Barnes?"

Rolling her eyes, Lily pulled the plate out of the microwave, taking the margarine out of the fridge, along with a knife and fork from the drawer beside the fridge. Whatever Gen was planning, Lily knew she wouldn't be able to talk her out of it. Whenever her best friend conjured a plan or set her mind to something, she had zero chance of getting in the way. Gen reached new levels of stubbornness when it came to these sorts of things. Especially Lily's love life. Gen has set her up on dates and different escapades...but Lily never took to any of the men. She never felt as though she could see it going anywhere.

"How about just Bucky? You could even add Barnes if it makes you happy," Lily sighed, a piece of blueberry pancake wedged into the side of her mouth. Leaning on her elbow, Lily cupped her chin in her hands, sipping her alcohol, watching as Gen continued to type, "What the hell are you typing?" Lily laughed, cutting up a few more pieces.

Gen merely replied with a simple shrug, "He thinks he's texting you. Bucky won't send you a text. But I said that you would not be making the first move."

"There are no moves being made!" Lily snapped and stole her phone back from Gen's grip, glancing at her messages, "I'm not looking for a relationship. I don't want one. I have all I need. Like you said, a beautiful son, a lovely home. great friends. A relationship would only create dysfunction and chaos."

A wave of silence rolled across the two. gen stared at the blonde in front of her, who was gripping the fork in her hands so tightly, her knuckles turned a sickly shade of white, with a tinge of green. A sigh escaped her lips as Lily dropped the fork back down onto the counter, running a hand down her face. Her green eyes avoided the stare that Gen was sending her way, a knowing look. One that let Lily know that she knew exactly what was going on inside of the blonde’s head, even when Lily herself didn't know. A strange ability Gen seemed to have, knowing what was repressed deep inside of Lily's subconscious.

"Lily-"

"Just drop it gen!" the young mom exclaimed while lifting her hands with clenched fists, "Please just drop it..."

"Okay...okay I'll drop it," Gen sighed, filling her glass once more with wine, "but Sam did mention you coming by? With Hunter? What was that about?" she wondered, crossing her legs as she took her seat on a stool at the counter.

Dropping her now empty plate into the sink, a small laugh escaped Lily's lips, "Sam offered to give Hunt a trip around the compound. Give him a tour of everything, meet everyone. Might ask Scott to grab him a bit early tomorrow and take him by."

Gen nodded. and the rest of the night went on like that. A bit quieter than before, due to the fact Lily's mind was still reeling from the small outburst earlier. They sipped their wine, finishing the two bottles. They both fell asleep in Lily's bed, both drunk and sprawled out. It was picturesque really. The two of them. An iconic duo to say the least.

-----

The next morning, a bright beam of light streamed through the sheer curtains of Lily's bedroom. Joey snoring gently beside her, his soft fur tickling her forearm. Sucking in a quick breath, the blonde reached her arm up to rub her eyes, before pulling herself up from her laying down position. She glanced around, noticing how Gen was nowhere in sight. Furrowing her brows, Lily turned to pick up her phone, noticing a text from her.

GEN

had to go to the cafe. spoke to Scott for you, you're picking hunt up at 1. love ya

Lily's eyes glanced at the time on her phone, 11:30. she had an hour and a half. Throwing her duvet off of her legs, startling Joey, she stood up. Her head pounded and she glanced to her right, noticing the empty wine glass from the night before. Chuckling gently, she picked it up and headed down the stairs towards her kitchen. Having nights alone with Gen typically helped Lily relax, make her calm those nerves that were constantly in a loop of anxiety and fear. But the slight argument they had the night before kept replaying in her head. She got so angry. As if finally, after all of these years, all of the trauma she faced in the name of love was coming to a head. That the heart Scott broke had yet to heal properly. Four years later, Lily still believed herself to be unlovable. Incapable of finding someone. Her deep subconscious believing that she had her one chance at love, and blew it.

A warm petal slid down the blonde’s cheekbone. Her bottom lip quivering. In an attempt to stop the shaking of the plush muscle, Lily bit down. Her breathing became shaky, her hands gripping onto the cool countertop so intensely that it mirrored the same shade as the night before. Gasps escaped her lips as she fumbled for a cup, leaning against the counters for support as she wandered over to the sink. Flipping on the silver faucet, the clear liquid ran into the cup. The moment she deemed enough, Lily chugged back the water. Her eyes relaxed and her breath steadied back to a regular pace.

When Lily finally regained the composure she needed to continue with her day, the blonde stood up straight. Glancing around the empty home, Lily's head dipped down so her chin gently rested on her collarbone. Pursing her lips once again, Lily sucked in the air around her through her nose. She dropped the cup into the sink and gave her body a shake, letting all of those feelings that just bubbled to the surface return to their rightful place deep within her. Where she didn't have to deal with them, and the people around her wouldn't see them. It was her way of hiding what she was truly feeling. and that's exactly what she wanted. To hide those fears, those doubts. everything.

She had to be strong, had to keep that facade up to maintain composure. She couldn't let Hunter see just how broken his mother was. Even though he may already know...she had to play ignorant just in case.

After scarfing down a croissant, Lily jogged up the stairs (much to her head’s dismay). Her start to the day was already hectic, and typically, that meant an extreme day ahead of her. Lily wasn't sure if she was all too prepared to handle that, especially after her little moment just moments ago. But she couldn't allow that small anxiety moment to consume her mind again, and destroy the rest of her day. She had sent a quick text to Sam, confirming the tour before placing her phone against the mahogany dresser she and Hunter had painted white. The dark green of her iris found itself staring back at herself in the mirror that was hung too carefully above the previously mentioned dresser.

She looked rough. Mascara smudged below her waterline, hair sticking out in three different directions. Her eyes were puffy and her lips were swollen, with a gentle tinge of scarlet displayed on the tip of her nose. Her chest heaved up and down, her neck expanding and retracting as her breathing continued to follow the path of relaxation. Almost instantly, she averted her eyes. No one wanted to look at a broken shell of a woman for too long, which became depressing. Especially when the said woman was nursing an existential hangover from two bottles of wine split with a person that could drink Captain Morgan under a table.

She pushed open the door to her closet and sighed. Maybe she did need a new wardrobe. She had been wearing the same dresses and shirts for years. She never had time to go shopping, or, when she did, she chose not to. Because shopping meant trying clothing on, which meant looking at her own body. The stretch marks across her hips, and the few that littered her stomach along with her belly button. Of course, these were caused naturally when she was pregnant, and because she’s grown from a baby. Regardless of how they came to be, Lily couldn't help but feel worse about herself with them. The pale pink shade they showed against her fair tone, making them prominent. That's why she never went shopping. Shame.

Lily changed into a cream-coloured lace spring dress with spaghetti straps and a brown leather braided belt, slipping a red cardigan over top due to the fact it was September, and there was a new cool breeze alongside the muggy heat. Her feet stepped into a pair of black flats before trudging to the bathroom. Checking the time, it read noon. She let out a sigh and picked up her can of dry shampoo, shaking the cool metal canister, causing a gentle noise to escape. Her morning routine was basic, but today she added the fact of cleaning the oiled up and overused makeup that stayed on her face from the night before. When she was done, she let out a sigh and quickly turned from the mirror, not looking at it once again. She fed Joey quickly, kissed him, then headed out.

time to pick up the boy that kept her going.

-----

Scott lived in Brooklyn, New York. He lived with the mistress that broke the horses back of their marriage and the daughter that was created out of it. Bitter wasn't the word she would use to describe how she felt towards the entire situation. Resentment, denial, those were better. The affair only made Lily more sure of her lack of worth. Not to mention how it broke all trust she had in the male sex or anyone that she dated. She hadn't had a relationship since Scott and hadn't even been physical with someone. A goodnight kiss, sure, but that's where it ended. Nothing more. She couldn't do it. And she one hundred percent blamed the father of her son.

Him and his new wife, Mary, aka the mistress, bunked in a two-story apartment near the edge of the area. It was a quiet area, but more urban and modern than the cozy and domestic vibe of Lily's area. That was a source of many arguments between the two as well. Scott preferred the non-stop of the city, while Lily preferred the privacy of the more so suburban areas of the city of New York. But now, the two were able to agree. She lived in a rural area, and he lived in the city. Was it a bit of a venture when it came to sharing custody of their child? Sure, but being divorced, the two didn't have a say in where the other lived.

Pulling into the driveway of her ex-husband’s apartment building, Lily turned off her car and pushed open the door. The heat hit her like a wave before the cool air broke down the wall the mugginess had created. Pressing the button to be buzzed in, the blonde rocked back and forth on her heels. When she heard the door unlock, she pushed through. After a few moments and one elevator trip, she reached the door of the apartment. Her fragile hand knocked, and seconds later, it busted open.

"Hey, Scott.”

[nevernotwriting]

You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 9: Escape

Read me on AO3!

Previous chapter

You woke up with the very firm knowledge that today was your last day in prison. This was the day Yancy was going to help you escape. You felt nervous with excitement and anticipation, but a small part of your heart wrenched when you met with Yancy and his gang after lunch.

Yancy was hunched over staring at the table when you joined him, lost in thought. It took Hank nudging him to bring his attention to your arrival. He blinked and sat up, barely shooting you a smile before launching into the plan.

The plan was simple. When you were getting dinner, Tiny was going to push you into Yancy. Yancy would take a swing at you, and the rest of the gang would declare a fight to alert The Warden.

“And what happens after that?” You asked.

“Ah don’t worry, I got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Yancy replied. He smiled at you with a wink, but his smile still didn’t reach his eyes.

You wanted to spend some more time with Yancy before your departure, but he whisked himself away from the table shortly after, claiming he had some business to take care of before your escape could commence. You sighed as the rest of the gang departed, leaving you alone.

 The evening rolled round all too quickly, and you were back in the canteen once more. You joined the queue for food, Tiny slipping in front of you. She nodded to you, and you nodded back. Yancy was stood behind you, the first time you had seen him in many hours. His hands were clasped in front of him, a tight smile on his face before he cast his eyes back down to the floor once again. You looked around at the other prisoners, all of whom were eating their food and shooting occasional glances your way. The guards milled around the edges of the room, utterly clueless to what was brewing in front of them.

A couple of minutes passed as you shuffled forward in the queue. You were about to turn to Yancy and ask him when this would be happening when Tiny stopped in her tracks. You bumped into her with a huff. She didn’t miss a beat, whipping round and shoving you backwards into Yancy.

“Hey!” Yancy snapped, pushing you away from him. A look of venom was plastered onto his face, but you saw it crack for a split second before chaos ensued.

Despite her nickname, Tiny had one hell of a pair of lungs on her.

“Fight!”

Every prisoner scrambled to their feet and surrounded you, holding back the guards like a human barricade as Yancy raised his fists. He took a purposefully slow swing in your direction and you ducked, keeping your eyes trained on him as shouts and screams rang in your ears. You were anxious at the prospect of having to hit him again when the lights turned red and alarms blared once more, indicating that The Warden was on his way. You gulped and glanced at Yancy, who gave you a reassuring wink. You didn’t miss his hands clenching into fists as he curled in on himself.

The circle parted to reveal The Warden, who marched forward and grabbed Yancy’s arm. You winced, scowling as he pointed a finger at Yancy’s face.

“Yancy!” He barked, flecks of spit flying out of his mouth in every direction. “What did I tell you about startin’ fights?”

Yancy gulped, shaking his head from side to side. “B-b-but-”

“You have given me no other choice!”

A guard stepped forward and The Warden tossed Yancy towards him.

“Put him in solitary!”

Your heart started pounding in your chest. Either the plan hadn’t worked, or it was one hell of a strange plan. By the time the lights returned to normal and the alarm died out, you were a quivering mess. The Warden rounded in on you.

“And you,” he spat. “Get back to your cell.”

A harsh grip landed on your shoulder and escorted you out of the canteen. You were pushed down the hallway and into your cell, the guard closing the bars behind you with a loud clang.

You sighed and scratched the back of your neck, unsure of what to do next. You looked towards your bed; maybe this plan of Yancy’s wouldn’t occur for a few more hours, so getting some rest didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Not like you had anything else to do.

You climbed under your covers, looking up at the bottom of the bed above you. What you saw made you shoot out from under the sheets faster than a bullet from a gun.

“Hey buddy. How ya doin’?”

“Yancy!” You hissed, trying not to yell. “What are you doing here? How did you get out of solitary?”

“Told ya, I got a few tricks up my sleeve,” he replied with a smirk, pulling a piece of black material from his pocket. “Looks like, uh… looks like it might be time to break outta here, but before we do, I need ya to put this on.”

Yancy held the material out to you. You frowned at him in confusion.

“Awh listen, it ain’t nothin’ personal. I just don’t want word gettin’ out about my escape routes, ya hear? Cause if you know, then yous gonna tell others, and then theys gonna tell others, and then suddenly, everyone’s breakin’ out, when no one-”

You put a finger to his lips, shocking him out of his irritated spiel. He went cross-eyed looking at your finger, but he didn’t seem to mind. You smiled and rolled your eyes at him, taking the material and tying it around your eyes.

“Yeah. I get it.”

“Good move. Now let’s get goin’. But, uh, watch ya head.”

With your makeshift blindfold securely in place, Yancy took your hand and led you to your escape.

 A few hop, skips, and jumps later, you were on solid ground once more, and a light breeze indicated that you were outside. Yancy’s hand let go of yours, and you took off your blindfold.

“And there you have it!” He declared.

You looked around, taking in your surroundings. You relished in the sky above you, having only seen a concrete ceiling for most of the last few days. The grass you were standing on was slightly overgrown, and it tickled your ankles. You didn’t want to take these small details for granted ever again.

“Oh and, uh…” Yancy caught your attention again, producing two items.

“I think these are youses?” He asked, holding them out to you. It was your cell phone – unmistakably yours by its unique casing – and the artefact.

You gasped, taking the objects from him. “Yancy, thank you! How did you-”

Yancy shrugged his shoulders and scratched the back of his neck, looking down at the ground. “It’s no big deal. I just… I slipped by the Warden’s office to have a little chat on the way over here. I saw that thing,” he pointed to the box, “that yous walked in with, so uh… I dunno. I thought you’d want it.”

A smile broke out onto your face, your heart melting. It soon froze again as Yancy casually grasped two of the bars on the gate.

He was still on the other side.

“Yancy…” You cleared your throat. “Do you… why don’t you…”

You couldn’t get the words out, too afraid of rejection. You gestured instead, beckoning him to come with you.

Yancy blinked in surprise. “Me? Out there? With you?”

He smiled, but you could see the torment in his eyes. He glanced at the ground again, shuffling his hands on the bars.

“Nah, I uh… I done a lot of bad things, and uh… this is home! For now, anyway.” He gestured to the prison behind him.

The breeze seemed to pick up and chill you to your very core as his words sunk in. You took a step closer.

“Yancy, you told me yourself that you didn’t kill your parents. Why do time for something you didn’t do?”

Yancy shuffled his hands again and hung his head with a sigh.

“Look, Zero… I appreciate what yous sayin’, but I still done a few bad things. I ain’t perfect.” He attempted a smile, but it fell flat when he looked at your sombre expression.

“Neither am I, but you still helped me. Is what you did really bad enough to stay in here for… for what, forever?”

Your voice was growing hoarse with emotion, not wanting to let go of his kindness and charm so soon. You had only known each other for a few days, but the pounding of your heart told you more than your brain could ever rationalise. You placed a hand over his. His gaze fixed on your hand, and he flexed his fingers. You hoped he would intertwine his hand with yours, but he merely drew his hand back and returned it to rub the side of his neck. He let out another deep sigh, meeting your eyes once more.

“Maybe next time parole comes up, I’ll… give it a shot.” The last four words were barely above a whisper, and you felt your heart clench yet again. You wanted to pull him towards you, hug him tight and never let go, but you couldn’t.

“Anyway,” Yancy snapped himself out of his guilt-ridden expression. “I better get back to it. You take care now, ya hear?”

You swallowed, barely managing a smile. “You too.”

Yancy returned his hand to yours, giving it one final squeeze before he began to pace away from the gate.

“Visitation, every third Sunday!” He shouted.

The two of you kept your eyes locked for as long as possible. When you finally did look away to turn on your phone, Yancy was gone.

A lump formed in your throat. You paced away from the gate, turning around to see only the side of the prison building and a desolate road.

You were alone again.

You leaned against a nearby tree, taking a deep breath in and out. You were out of prison, you were liberated, yet somehow you felt emptier than you had in the past couple of days you’d spent behind bars.

Your phone vibrated, startling you out of your worried mind. It was fully operational, with half the battery still left. A stream of missed calls and messages from friends and family trickled in, many of them asking where the hell you were and why you weren’t replying. Guilt flooded your body, and you made a mental note to reply to them as soon as you were safe and apologise for leaving them hanging. You tapped through your contacts, looking for a getaway, though in the back of your mind you already knew the best person to call.

Mark’s face and number appeared on your screen. He had a big cheesy grin on his face, hair splaying around. It must have been windy when he took that picture. Your stomach lurched as your thumb hovered over the call button, taking one final look around you for any passing cars you could hitch a ride from, but the road was empty.

“Son of a bitch,” you cursed to yourself, locking your phone. Seeing his face again sent your blood boiling after what you’d witnessed the night before on the security cameras, but your stomach still fluttered with all the fond memories you’d had with him. You curled up at the base of the tree, tears springing to your eyes as you hugged your knees.

Just when you were about to give in, you thought of one other solution.

You looked at the artefact, still clutched in your other hand. Shark said it contained something, right?

“Please, please be something good,” you prayed, prying off the lid and tipping the contents into your lap.

Whatever fell out wasn’t heavy. You picked it up. It was a key, and around it was a small piece of rolled-up paper. You unravelled it, revealing a message.

 This universal skeleton key can unlock ANY lock ever made.

 You read the message again, huffing a breath of disbelief. The key looked old but mostly unimposing. To think it held such power took your breath away.

You glanced at the prison gate. Your heart started racing again, thinking of Yancy on the other side, alone in his cell. You glanced to the road. You thought of Mark getting an earful from Shark for failing the heist. Maybe he even missed you.

“Why can’t everything be easy?” You questioned, looking down at the phone and the key in your hands. One of them led to a life you wanted, but figuring out exactly which was which was a whole other puzzle. Your heart was being pulled in two directions, one by a man you barely knew, and the other by a man you weren’t sure you could trust anymore.

Finally, your brain kicked into action.

What was that Yancy said earlier?

You heard his words in your mind, clear as day in his accent.

“Visitation, every third Sunday.”

Everything clicked into place as you hatched a plan. You stood up with a new sense of purpose, key tightly in your grasp.

You unlocked your phone and called Mark.

Next chapter

[queen-ofsunflowers]

I-Island Vacation: Act 2 Preview

Fifteen minutes had to have at least past when the door to the entrance opened. Izuku Midoriya rushed into the waiting area, dressed in suit and sweat pricing his brow. He was out of breath.

“Sorry about… that you… guys,” he said quickly, drawing in as much air as he could. Did he run all the way here? He stared at the group before him. “Uh. Where is everybody?”

“They’re not here yet,” Weiss explained. “We set up a meeting time so we could all head in together on time. Did that mean nothing to you?” Midoriya turned a bit red. Weiss sighed.

“Sorry, Senpai—!” Midoriya’s apology was cut off as the security system’s sensors activated. As if on cue, Ochako, Yaoyorozu and Jirou arrived at the tower as well, Ochako well ahead of the other two girls. Much like her friends, she was wearing a pink formal dress and had her hair pinne out of her face. It had a flower pin.

“Sorry I’m late!” said Ochako quickly. “It took me a while to get ready.” From behind her entered Yaoyorozu and Jirou, each stylishly dressed in formal wear to suit their elegant and punk tastes respectively. Ruby had to peer around Yaoyorozu to get a better look at Jirou, though. Was… Was she hiding? 

“Apologies for the tardiness,” said Yaoyorozu, with Jirou ust about stuck to her arm. “Jirou’s feeling shy.”

“If it makes you feel better, so is Blake,” said Yang, gesturing to the cat-eared girl next to her. irou peered around from Yaoyorozu.Upon spotting Blake, she blushed a little before finally emerging from behind her friend. Jirou tugged on the cropped leather jacket she was wearing.

“This is fancier than anything I’ve ever worn…” she said. “It feels like a costume.”

“I’m just glad you’re not in a t-shirt,” said Kaminari.Ruby winced as Jirou jammed one of her ear jacks into his ear, making him screech in pain. 

“Shut up.”

“Why would you do that?!” Kaminari rubbed at his ear the moment Jirou withdrew her jack. “It was a compliment…”

“No it wasn’t.” The blush on Jirou’s face had only grown deeper. As if sensing the younger’s discomfort, Blake put a hand on her shoulder, causing Jirou to sigh. Ruby, meanwhile, turned to Midoriya and Ochako.

“Lookin’ cute, Ochako!” she told the zero gravity girl. It was true. The dress Ochako was wearing really suited her. She looked positively adorable.

“Thanks,” said Ochako, a bit of pink dusting her cheeks. “This is my first time in formal wear… I had to borrow something from Yaoyorozu…” Even so.

“It…” Midoriya cleared his throat, his face flushed red, “looks really good. Like. Perfect.”

Ochako only grew more flustered at that compliment. “Oh, Deku, stop! You don’t have to flatter me so much!”

The door then opened again, and Ruby felt her heart jump into her throat. In ran Melissa, who let out a sigh upon spotting teh hero course students waiting for her. She looked so… so different than before. Her long hair had been swept up in a high ponytail, and her bangs held back with a red headband. Her dress was strapless, with the upper half a dark blue and the knee-length skirt a pale shade of the same color. Hershoes were heels, like the rest of hte girls’ seemed to be, but they were white and strapless — a lot like Weiss’s.

She was just... 

“Oh good!” Melissa said as she entered the room. Was it always this hard to look her in the eye? Ruby didn’t have trouble with this before! “I thought I was going to miss you guys!”

“Uh,” Ruby tried to fight back a bit of pink that decided to appear on her face, “M-Melissa!”

The smile Melissa gave her did not make things any better. “Hey. Sorry if I kept you guys waiting.”

“Not at all,” said Weiss with a sigh, most likely relieved.

“Let’s get downstairs to the party.”

“Yeah! Let’s good!” Ruby said with a nod. There was a beat. “I mean good!” She groaned. “Go! Let. Us. Go!” A nervous chuckle escaped her lips. Yang leaned forward on her sister’s shoulder as Ruby’s face went flush with embarrassment.

“Aw, does Ruby have a little crush?” she said, pinching her sister’s cheek.

“Shut up… She’s just cute.” Yang only giggled. Didn’t matter. They were all here and now they could--! Ruby looked around. Wait a sec-- “Huh? Um… hey, where are Kirishima and Bakugo?”

“Are they not here yet?” Midorya asked. Ruby nodded, pushing Yang away.

“I tried to get in contact with them earlier, but they wouldn’t pick up,” Iida explained. “I can try again, but I don’t have Bakugo’s own contact information. Only way I can get in touch with him is through the class’s group chat.”

Right… and it didn’t seem fair to contact him through that. Iida only used it for classroom announcements anyway. That’s why he made it.

“I can handle Kacchan…” Midoriya pulled out his phone, quickly dialling Bakugo’s number. Iida did the same, but for Kirishima. “Though I doubt he’ll pick up.” There were several beats, the entire group silent as their phones played only dial tone for what felt like a straight minute. In the end, Midoriya let out a sigh and hung up. “That’s what I thought.”

“What about Kirishima?” Ruby asked. If Bakugo Isn't picking up, then surely Kirishima would—

“He’s still not answering,” Iida sighed. Okay, nevermind. “You might be right with your earlier thoughts. They're just blowing off the party.”

“It doesn't matter,” said Melissa. “I’m sure they’re just having a bit of fun in their own way.” Yang snickered upon hearing that. Blake sharply elbowed her, giving her a look. Ruby blinked. Wait, what was Yang laughing about?

“Kacchan Isn't the biggest on parties…” mused Midoriya aloud.

“That’s what I said!” Ruby told him. She was getting pretty good at understanding Bakugo lately. Midoriya chuckled at his friend’s little excitement over that.

“Let’s get going!” said Ochako, bouncing on her heels as she turned towards the elevator. “Fancy tuna, here I come!” The group began to make their way towards the elevator, with the older girls chuckling at Ochako’s enthusiasm. Kaminari leaned over to Todoroki.

“Do you really think there will be fancy tuna there?” he asked. Todoroki only shrugged.

“Most likely,” he replied. However, before the kids could even press the elevator’s button, the tower’s PA system crackled to life.

“This is an announcement from the I-Island Security System,” said a robotic, feminine-sounding voice over the speaker. The kids all stopped. The security system? “We have received a report that an explosive device was discovered somewhere on the I-Expo grounds. I-Island will now be in high alert mode. Your safety is our top priority. Residents and tourists should return to their lodgings at this time. If you cannot, please find the nearest building. Anyone remaining on the street after ten minutes will be in violation of the law. Please clear out public areas. As a precautionary measure…” Everyone jumped as shutters came down over the moors and the windows, sealing them inside the tower. “...most of the main island buildings will now be sealed off. I repeat. We have received a report…”

Everyone was quiet as the message repeated. What was…?! This couldn’t be happening…!

“That ain’t good,” commented Yang, breaking the silence.

The full act will be up on Ao3 on January 16!

[starryeyedkoo]

Genre: badboy!au, gang!au, college!au, angst!!, fluff

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: mature language, alcohol use (including mention of underage drinking which i do not condone), violence, minor character death, brief mention of addiction, tsundere jungkook, (cheesy) angst around every. corner. (seriously it never stops i’m sorry)

Word Count: 22.9k (here we go again i’m so sorry)

“Do you regret it?” “What?” “Falling in love with me? It feels like I only weigh you down.” “I’ll let you pull me down to the depths of hell if that’s what it means to love you.”

a/n: this story is just cliche after cliche… because i’m a hoe for cliches, so hopefully it’s not too much hehe. this fic was really self-indulgent and dramatic so be warned !! also this fic was inspired by the dialogue i wrote above (which actually didn’t even make it into the story) and these songs: Harder by Oliver Riot and Someone to Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic

You tapped the end of your pencil on the surface of the desk you sat at in an attempt to keep your eyes from drooping shut while you worked on the last few problems of your Statistics test. Your ears zeroed in on every sound present in the room, including the flipping of a page coming from behind you, the sniffling from the boy across the room that has been a persistent provocation for the last hour and a half, and also the boy sitting a seat away from you who huffed out a breath and sent you an irritated glance. You pursed your lips and quickly steadied the grasp of your pencil before it became an even bigger annoyance to him.

After what felt like an excruciatingly long hour and a half, you had finally made it to the end of your test with each problem filled out and just a few seconds to spare. Once time was called, you were quick to make your way to turn in your packet and then you turned straight towards the exit. Just as you were only a few meager steps in front of the professor’s desk, he called you over asking if he could speak with you. “Ms. _____, how was the test?” You stopped short, a little confused as to why he had stopped you from walking straight out of there. Before you could produce an easy answer to quickly end the conversation, he interrupted you, “Please feel free to let me know if you need some extra help. I know statistics isn’t easy, so I understand if you’re struggling a bit.”

Your brows drew together in confusion and you glanced around the room at the last lucky students making their way out before you could, each of them dropping their test packets on the corner of his desk and turning the other way. “What makes you think I need help?” You flashed a pleasant smile to maintain respect towards your teacher.

“Well, as I’m sure you know, the curriculum of our university is especially challenging, and I know it may be a bit of a strain for you,” he offered, gesturing towards you in what you were sure was of a demeaning nature.

The smile melted off your face and you found it difficult to keep your lips from turning down in disbelief. “It’s not too different from anything I’ve had to do before.”

“Is that so?” your professor inquired with a doubtful smirk creeping onto his face, and that had been the last straw.

“Actually,” you corrected, suddenly feeling brave and bold enough to defend yourself, “I believe my private high school’s rigor was much more difficult to tolerate than this, but thank you for your concern.” Your false thankfulness did not extend to your facial features, lips turned into a scowl. “Believe it or not, sir, I made it into this university through hard work, not just connections and thick stacks of cash.” You slammed your test paper down onto his desk, making daring eye contact with him for only a moment before turning to take your leave. “Have a nice day,” you bid him sarcastically, striding out the exit.

As soon as you were far enough to overcome the blinding frustration you had just unleashed, you quickly realized you would most likely regret giving your teacher that attitude, but honestly, he deserved it. Screw him.

After anger came the frustration that you had been facing since you enrolled in this university that had been beating down on you like heavy rain, slowly wearing you out the longer you had to withstand it. Nearly everyone you met would soon make the connection between you and your family name and make assumptions about you, several of them nasty. Your least favorite of the rumors however, and maybe it was because it was the most frequent, was that you paid your way into university. For some reason, people couldn’t seem to fathom the idea of you having a functioning brain, and you were getting sick of it.

During your walk, the sky creeped open and rain began to drizzle down, further dampening your mood. Then in the distance, quickly becoming louder, you heard the boom of the bass from the speakers of a car. Next thing you knew, you saw a convertible with its top down coming down the road, filled to more than its full capacity with young men, and just as you had expected it slowed as it was about to pass you. “Hey, little lady, why don’t you come for a ride with us?” one of the boys offered slyly.

You refused to even pretend to play along though, and instead you just put in your earphones and turned your music up to max volume to drown them out until they had enough fun and turned around. It definitely was not the first time that had happened. Frequently, actually, boys would cross over into this side of town and entertain themselves by messing with the snooty, rich folk. You couldn’t blame them, to be honest. Sometimes you felt the same way. Sometimes, you wished you could disassociate yourself with everything that had to do with this city and start something new where no one had any idea who you or your family were.

You were feeling bored, unfulfilled… You really weren’t sure what it was, but you were feeling just as gray and lifeless as the cloudy sky. The concrete streets and buildings of the city. Even the river’s flowing water displayed a dead, sooty color under the gloomy sky. You began to wonder if your eyes were one day going to reflect the same shade.

“No! Absolutely not! This is ridiculous!” Your mother barked, angrily pressing her finger harshly down onto the remote’s power button as the screen of the television went dark. The news anchor had just been reporting on today’s commencement of the new policy enacted by your city to allow ‘free entry of especially gifted students from less fortunate communities’ into the most prestigious university in your city. “I am paying way too much money to send you to this school to keep you away from these thugs, and now they get to waltz on in there for absolutely no charge?”

By ‘thugs’ she meant, of course, the people from the west side of the city. You barely suppressed the eye roll that crept up on you. “If you really wanted me away from them, you should have let me leave the city like I wanted.”

“Yeah, you far enough away where I can’t keep an eye on you? That won’t be happening.” She shook her head disapprovingly before returning her attention to her laptop, typing away at the keyboard. Suddenly, her phone began to ring, and she quickly scooped it up, composing herself before answering with a business-like greeting and excusing herself from the room.

You sighed, checking your phone for the time, the digital numbers indicating that you had thirty-five minutes until your morning lecture on photography, so you placed your plate in the sink, leaving it for the cleaning service to take care of when they came later in the day, as they did every other day. You scooped up your bag and slipped your shoes on, calling to your mother who was most likely already in her office, “Okay, Mom, I’m heading out!” No response. You gave a quick sigh before mumbling to yourself, “Bye.”

Because your house was conveniently located in the busy part of town, and the university stood just outside the business district, it was a relatively short walk, only about twenty minutes long. Your mother insisted she could have her driver take you to and from classes, but you denied. You would much rather walk than draw more attention to yourself and risk looking like a spoiled brat, even though your college was mostly comprised of students who came from wealthy families like you had.

You quickly decided that stopping for a coffee on the way to class was a poor decision on your part now that you were ever so casually speeding down the last block to get there in time. You were heading to the row just a few back from the front as you always did when you spotted an unfamiliar face in the very seat you had claimed since the beginning of the semester. The rest of the row was practically empty since this was a fairly small class. He seriously couldn’t have picked any other spot?

You slowly approached, careful to keep a friendly smile on your face, especially since he seemed to be a new student. You set your bag in the seat next to him before speaking quietly, “Excuse me, but would you mind moving down a few seats? This is usually where I sit.”

The boy looked up from under his black bangs that fell over his forehead. “Aren’t there plenty of other seats to choose from?” he deadpanned, looking up and down the nearly empty row of seats. The polite smile faltered for a moment before you exaggerated it even more.

“I suppose there are…” you reluctantly agreed through clenched teeth, picking up your bag and moving yourself down a few seats from the boy who was now fiddling with his camera he had brought to class. Just moments later, your professor came in, greeting the class and beginning the lecture. You quickly brought out your notebook and your own camera, and you noticed the eyes of the boy sitting next to you staring intently at your camera. Brows turning down in petty dislike for this new student, you brought your hand up to take the strap and pull it closer to you, not afraid to let him to see your scowl.

After another very long and confusing photography lecture, you were once again puzzled by the assignment you had been given and you reluctantly had to ask your professor for help before you left the classroom. You didn’t think this class would be so difficult. You only took it as an elective for an easy A, but instead it ended up being much more complicated than you had initially anticipated. No matter how much you played around, you couldn’t figure out how to get the perfect picture with the right details like everyone else could. “Professor Choi,” you called for her attention. She looked up from the stack of papers she was arranging at her desk while you slung your bag over your shoulder and approached her with hurried steps. “I just had a quick question about exactly how to use—”

“Ms. _____, I’m sorry, but I cannot keep answering your questions about the functions of your camera. This should be prior knowledge or something to study and experiment with in your own time. If you need help, you should consider getting advice from another student who is more well-versed with a camera.” She suddenly looked behind you and you followed her gaze, finding the same boy still lingering, finally leaving from where he sat. “Like Mr. Jeon, for example,” she gestured to him, and his head perked up at the sound of his name. “He’s one of our new students from the Prodigy Program, Jeon Jungkook, and he possesses extraordinary photography skills. He would be an excellent resource for help. Mr. Jeon, how do you feel about that?”

You were quick to wave your hands in protest, voicing, “No, that’s really not necessary.”

“According to your dropping grade, I believe it is necessary, Ms. _____,” she spoke over the rim of her glasses. You felt your cheeks burn red in humiliation, catching a glimpse of the boy fighting back a smug grin. “Mr. Jeon, please tutor her in the class. She would surely appreciate it. Ms. _____, perhaps you can show him around campus and get him accustomed to the new surroundings in return.”

You stayed silent, listening to the clicking of her heels as she left the both of you behind in the empty classroom. It was silent and stiff, and you were still chewing on your bottom lip in embarrassment, especially in front of the boy with whom you had just hit it off poorly an hour prior. Jungkook suddenly cleared his throat and began to speak, but you had no interest in what he was about to say, so you shoved past him and left without a word.

You almost considered not showing up to the next class, but you swallowed your pride and walked through those doors and quickly made your way to the back corner of the room. You were sure you felt Jungkook’s eyes follow you as you passed by your usual row, where he still sat in your seat. You barely even cared anymore, though. He could have it. You would much rather finish the semester hidden in the back of the classroom.

You took no time in leaving once class was over, heading out the door to quickly reach the fresh air of the outside where you didn’t feel like you had to hold your breath, not forgetting to shoot a glare to Professor Choi as you passed by her desk. You made sure you had enough time to get to class today by choosing to not get a coffee before class started, so you decided now would be the best time to do so. You crossed through the courtyard to get to your usual cafe just outside of the campus.

Once you sat down, you brought out your laptop and your camera in order to finally figure out how this thing worked. You should have done it earlier, but you were discouraged so you let the problem fester for a few more days before finally attacking it. You were fiddling around with a few of the functions that you were reading about on your computer, desperately trying to figure out how to make your pictures look professional. You were finally able to focus once your coffee was ready, but you were once again distracted when you felt eyes on you and you looked up to search around. That’s when you spotted familiar dark bangs under a black hoodie. You quickly looked back down, hoping he hadn’t noticed you, but you soon realized he was sauntering directly over to the table you sat at.

He dropped himself down onto the chair across from yours, but he only sat there, waiting for you to say something first. “Can I help you?” you offered grumpily.

“No, but I can help you.” He still stared with the nonchalant, blank expression, which for some reason made his presence even more irritating. You ignored his offer and instead became accusing.

“How did you even know I was here? Did you follow me or something?” You looked him over suspiciously.

An impassive smirk grew on one side of his lips. “I may have seen you come this way.” You scoffed, still wondering why he would have gone out of his way to come here. “Aw, come on. Don’t be like that. I’m new around here. I’ve got no one to talk to.”

You raised a brow in disbelief. “So you came to talk to me?”

His lips suddenly turned down and his playful demeanor switched off. He leaned forward in his chair, his voice suddenly holding a deeper tone as he spoke lowly, “What, is the pretty little rich girl too good for me?” You were suddenly taken aback and your eyes went round. “Surprised?” he continued with an angry snort. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. People around campus seem to like to talk about you.”

Your shoulders drooped at the thought. “Yeah, they sure do,” you sighed, suddenly frustrated at your unavoidable reputation within your school. “I guess that’s what happens when your dad is the founder of one of the biggest tech supplier companies in Korea. Well… was. My mom took his place as CEO now, but technically it’s—” You noticed you began rambling and had already said way more than you needed to, so you quickly clamped your mouth shut, but you couldn’t stop yourself from opening it again to ramble nervously. “Sorry, I don’t know why I even brought that up,” you laughed lamely, leaning back into your seat.

Jungkook straightened himself up suddenly and his voice became strangely unnatural. “Tech supplier, huh?” You noticed something seemed rather insincere, as if his mind was preoccupied. “What about your dad? Where is he now?” He suddenly inquired casually.

Your brows shot up for only a moment before your form deflated when you answered his question. “He’s… He’s dead, actually.”

Jungkook’s eyes suddenly widened before he mumbled, “I’m sorry.” He looked remorseful, but his eyes were also unfocused and distracted, making you unsure if you should actually take his condolences seriously.

You squinted your eyes in confusion, but you ignored the weird feeling it gave you. You gave a quick smile, picking yourself up and moving on from the topic. “It’s alright. It happened a long time ago.”

Jungkook’s eyes focused back on you after he shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Anyways,” he began, steering away from the saddening subject, “I’ll help you if you need me to.”

You debated the decision for a moment, but with one look back at the indecipherable directions on the screen of your computer, you decided getting his help would be the best option. “You know what, I would actually love your help,” you sighed, taking the last sip of your coffee. You looked at the time and realized that it had been much later than you anticipated, and knowing your mother, you would soon be receiving frantic messages and phone calls wondering where you were. “But can I take a raincheck on that? I should really be going.” You gave an apologetic smile, quickly packing up your things into your backpack and waving goodbye before you hurried back home.

After the next class, you both walked to the cafe together where Jungkook would give his first lesson on how to use a camera properly and how to take the perfect picture. You smiled while sitting down after you both ordered a drink. “Again, I’m sorry that you have to spend your time teaching me how to use a camera. I can’t believe I have to get tutored in photography of all things.”

“There’s no shame in a bad grade,” he impassively remarked, hanging his leather jacket over the back of his chair before sitting across from you. “Also, not to call you out or anything, but if you want to learn more, it’s probably not the best idea to sit in the back corner during class,” he lazily raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged your shoulders, agreeing, “Yeah that’s probably true, but it’s not easy getting humiliated by your professor.”

Jungkook’s lips turned down in nonchalance. “Why do you even care what she says? I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

You looked down and traced the lines in the wood that made the table with your finger. “Yeah. I guess I’m just tired of my professors thinking that I don’t belong in this school. Most of them seem to think I’m only here because I paid my way in, and that I don’t have any actual brains,” you scowled.

He sat there, face contorted in a mix of several different emotions, but he seemed apprehensive to express what he was thinking. Usually, you would feel like an idiot if someone reacted that way to anything you said, but there was something about Jungkook doing it that made it… not so bad? You had a feeling he wasn’t the type to be a fan of “deep conversations” like these, judging by the awkward hesitance as his face twitched in thought, seemingly unable to let any expression through his ever-calm-and-collected front.

Jungkook brushed it off and suddenly he reached across the table to bring your camera closer to him to examine. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here.” He played around with a few of the buttons and twisted the lense this way and that, looking through the viewfinder, then he shook his head in disbelief. “Unbelievable! I knew I recognized the model. You’ve got the best fucking camera money can buy and you don’t even know how to use it.” You would have been offended, but then you saw the small smile that appeared on his lips, and it was the first time you had seen one that was genuine, so you stayed quiet and let him enjoy the moment. “God, I would kill for one of these…” He continued looking through the viewfinder and snapping a few pictures for what now seemed like his own amusement instead of figuring out how it worked.

“Yeah, you really seem to like it,” you smirked, waiting patiently for him to be satisfied. He froze at your remark and quickly set the camera down, clearing his throat and leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. You couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly he wiped that smile from his face when he was caught breaking his tough exterior.

He quickly wet his lips and straightened up in his seat as he began his lesson. “Okay then, let’s start with the basics.” You nodded eagerly, excited to finally gain some knowledge about a camera and hopefully be able to use it decently from now on. “The first thing you should know about is exposure. There’s three elements that make up exposure and those are aperture, shutter speed, and the ISO,” he slowly explained, pointing to each of the places on the camera that controlled each of these elements. You tried your best to follow along, but you found yourself getting distracted by the rings Jungkook wore on his fingers, and then your eyes traveled over his alarmingly good-looking hands and up the veins that ran up his forearm and suddenly you couldn’t hear a word he was saying. You shook your head lightly, trying to tune back in to Jungkook’s teaching, and this time you actually focused on his voice, but not necessarily the words it produced, but the velvety smooth sound of it.

No. This was not happening. You nervously downed the rest of your cooling coffee and looked at your phone in a panic, attempting to reel yourself back in. “You okay?” he asked in confusion, eyes flickering between you and your empty coffee cup when you unintentionally slammed it down onto the table.

Your eyes widened as you shook your head in dismissal. “N-no! I mean, yes! Everything’s fine.” He narrowed his gaze at you in doubt, but he didn’t bother to push it anyway. “Listen,” you began, eyes darting away from his gaze nervously, picking up your phone and looking for an excuse. “I actually am running short on time. I should be going.”

“I thought you had until—”

You gathered your things before standing up, chair screeching against the tiled floors. “I know,” you interrupted, wearing a guilty smile, “but my mom just texted me and she needs me.” You started toward the exit before skidding to a stop and turning back to him, still sitting there a little dumbfounded. “Can we meet after next class? No interruptions this time, I promise.” He answered with a simple nod, so you waved goodbye and pushed your way through the exit, taking a large sigh of relief once you had reached safety.

You felt bad that you had looked for an excuse to see him again, but you couldn’t help it. As much as you hated to admit it, he was undeniably attractive, and honestly, it was already driving you crazy. Besides, he still has to teach you about your camera, and you felt bad that you cut his lesson off, but you had to get out of there or else you may have lost it. You weren’t supposed to be getting distracted by a pretty face! No one had ever been able to so easily mess with your mind, but Jungkook wasn’t just anyone. He was mysterious and confusing and alluring and you were falling for it just like a cheesy romance novel protagonist. And that was terrifying because what would your mother think? You don’t know why you thought that really mattered, though. It’s just physical attraction and that can easily be ignored.

Turns out being physically attracted to someone is not so easily ignored. Here you were at the cafe sitting across from Jungkook, still completely and utterly blown away by the natural beauty of this man in front of you that you had never bothered to notice in anyone else. Not to mention, it only became more difficult to ignore that ticklish feeling in your stomach now that you’ve gotten to know him and the little quirks in his personality that he seems to suppress almost naturally, making you wonder how long he’s had to put up a front throughout his life.

“I’ve got you all figured out,” Jungkook insisted, pointing a finger in your direction, successfully snapping you out of your troubling internal monologue.

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back with a challenging brow lifted. “Is that so?” You were much less timid than you had been the first time Jungkook had tried to teach you photography basics. You two had met several times now, and things had slowly become more natural between the two of you You came to enjoy his company, and you hoped it was safe to assume the same on his end. You still passed these meetings at the cafe off as “study sessions,” but you rarely got any tutoring done anymore, opting instead for conversation over a cup of coffee. Does that make you two friends? You weren’t exactly sure for yourself, and that was something you would never actually ask Jungkook, knowing he would probably find it awkward to actually talk about, even if he did consider you a friend.

“You’re just like the main character of all those cliche movies,” he explained, bringing you down from your cloudy thoughts yet again. “You’re the sheltered, well-behaved daughter who wants to rebel by doing something like getting a secret tattoo or falling for the bad boy. Tell me, am I irresistible?” He wore a cocky smirk that you were so tempted to wipe off with a slap to the face in your embarrassment, though you couldn’t help but laugh anyway. Your face burned crimson, which you hoped wouldn’t give you away, because right now, you were afraid he was dead on.

You searched desperately for a response to get him back, but as far as you knew, he was unbreakable, so you were forced to give up and retreat. “Yeah, right! I’m going to get my coffee,” you mumbled, standing up in attempt to escape and recuperate.

“Don’t worry. I already ordered it for you,” his voice came from behind. It was unusually soft compared to his normally gruff tone, and he looked out the window instead of at you. Was it just you or was he… shy?

“Oh!” you abruptly swiveled back, seeing a cup already placed on your side of the table. You picked it up to examine, looking for the markings to show its ingredients. “Is it—”

“It’s just the way you like it. I promise.”

You began digging through your purse in search of your wallet. “Let me pay you back, then,” you offered, pulling out a ten dollar bill when you were unable to find any smaller bills, not minding if he had to keep the change.

“No, don’t worry about it. My treat.” He shook his head, making no moves toward the cash held out in front of him.

“No, really take it,” you insisted, holding out the money, practically shoving it into his grip, but he only waved your hand away. “It’s the least I can do. You’re already helping me out for nothing in return.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got money—maybe not as much as you, princess—but it’s enough to keep me going.” You hated that his nickname had such an immediate effect on you, causing the same blush to reappear on your face. You didn’t want to draw more of his attention to you while your face was on fire, so you quickly gave up, retracting your hand and putting the money back into your wallet with a deep sigh. Jungkook perked up with an idea suddenly, leaning his forearms onto the table as he spoke. “Actually, I do have a way you could pay me back.” You nodded, waiting for his request. “I have a paper due for English 101 on Monday, and that class isn’t my strong suit. You’re good at English, right? Could you help me out with that?”

“Sure, I can look over that and help you revise it if you need me to. Have you finished so I can go ahead and look over it now?” you asked, already waiting for him to bring out his computer and show you his finished product.

You watched his tongue roll on the inside of his cheek and met his eyes that only held a blank stare. “I haven’t started.”

“What?” you shrieked. “Jungkook! That paper is due in two days, and you have none of it done? Those aren’t easy to rush, you know.” You scolded him, and he fluttered his eyes shut, exhaling slowly, as if he had expected that exact reaction from you. He only shrugged as a response, making you even more frustrated with the boy. “Okay, well I guess we need to meet up tomorrow to get that done, but the cafe’s closed on Sundays, so maybe we should meet in the courtyard.” You looked to him for any sort of confirmation or objection, but he only continued to listen uninterestedly, eliciting an exasperated huff from you. “Sure, we’ll do that. A little fresh air could do us some good anyway. Meet me at six.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t put just a little bit of effort into your appearance today. Definitely not because you were meeting Jungkook, though. You just didn’t have to wake up as early as usual, so you just happened to feel like putting on makeup and planning a nicer outfit as opposed to a hoodie and leggings like you wear for almost every single class.

You texted Jungkook to meet you at the right-most bench in the courtyard at six, but it was now almost a quarter after and there was still no sign of him. You slowly grew more impatient as each minute passed by and it took a considerable amount of effort to keep yourself from sending him a second text asking him where he was. Finally, you saw him jogging towards you from the path adjacent to where you sat, making you breathe in relief and you were about to berate him, but you quickly stopped yourself after one look at his dishevelled state and his slight limp that wasn’t hard to miss. Your eyes trailed him up and down in concern as you quickly stood up to meet him. “What the hell happened to you?” you asked, hands twitching by your sides as you fought the urge to brush away the hair hanging down in his face.

He beat you to it, luckily, as he swept his hair back and shook his head, dismissing the matter. “It’s nothing. I was just in a hurry. Sorry I’m late.” He plopped down onto the bench and you followed just after, still keeping your eyes trained on him in worry. When you put your hand down, you felt it land on top of his own, so you quickly picked it back and and instinctually looked down to wear his hand propped up his upper body and you didn’t miss the blot of scarlet on his knuckles.

You didn’t hesitate in taking his hand into your own now, bringing it up to make sure your eyes were not deceiving you. “You’re bleeding!” you pointed out to him, looking at the red that painted each of his knuckles.

He hummed, taking a careless glance before quickly wiping it off on his jeans, leaving a stain that your eyes focused on in disbelief before directing your rounded eyes back up to his face. He squinted at your reaction, clearly not nearly as interested as you were. “What? I was in a rush, and I fell. That’s all,” he insisted, opening his laptop to move on and get started on his paper.

Your eyes zeroed in on the skin just below his eye that was beginning to take on a dark hue. “I’d believe you if your eye weren’t turning blue right now.” His hand came up to touch his eye without thinking and you could see that he barely winced before he shook his head and continued to open up a document on his computer. You continued to stare patiently, but he made no move to relieve your concerns. “Are you gonna tell me what happened or not?”

He scoffed, clicking his tongue with eyes still focused on the screen in front of him. “I already did. The black eye is because my face hit the ground.” He turned to you to still find you scrutinizing him, but he chose to ignore it and get straight into writing the essay. He began to read the prompt aloud until he stopped when he felt a large drop of water fall onto his cheek, and at just about the same moment, you felt the same on your thigh. You both looked up and saw the dark clouds that had drifted in from a distance. Suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch to go right on cue, the sky opened up and rain came crashing down on the city with a crack of thunder to top it all off.

After only a few moments, you were already much too wet for your own liking, so you dragged Jungkook behind you to the nearest awning of a building to stand under. “Great,” you murmured, already shivering from the chill of your damp clothes. “Now what are we gonna do?”

Jungkook sighed and looked out at the droplets that poured down just a few inches in front of him while drying off the screen of his laptop with his shirt. “You know, it’s okay. I’ll figure something out. You don’t have to help.”

“No. I want to help. I need to after how much you’ve helped me,” you insisted. You tapped your chin in thought of a place to seek refuge from the rain, and the only place that came to mind was home. Home, however, was a risk since there was the chance that your mother would be home, but she usually worked even on Sundays, and you didn’t think there was any reason she wouldn’t be working today, so you decided that would be your best option. “We can go to my place to write this.”

You heard Jungkook mutter behind you, but you couldn’t make out what he said as you built up enough courage and went back out into the cold rain. You glanced behind you to see Jungkook hastily stuffing his laptop back into his bag and reluctantly following behind. Your teeth began to chatter and you crossed your arms over your chest to maintain some body heat. You heard Jungkook’s quiet voice, not quite able to understand what he had said, but he pulled you closer to him and had taken his leather jacket off, now holding it over both of your heads to keep the heavy flow of rain from beating down on you any longer. You blushed at the thoughtful act and your whole body began to feel warmer within moments.

Suddenly what you were sure would be a long, miserable walk went by much faster than you had expected, except for the fact that a jacket could only do so much and you were both still soaking wet and cold. You unlocked the front door and kicked off your soggy shoes, and Jungkook followed, and you told him to wait where he was on the doormat. You came back with a towel for each of you to dry off with. You wrapped the plush cloth around you tightly after squeezing out your dripping hair. To be honest, you hadn’t really thought this far ahead, so now you both stood in the doorway wondering what to do with your still very wet bodies that could easily damage the expensive furniture in your house.

You heard the front door just behind Jungkook begin to open and he quickly stepped out of the way before getting hit with it. Your heart dropped. It was your mother. She took in the scene with a bewildered appearance, eyes drifting from you, soaking wet with eyes like those of a deer caught in headlights to the equally damp boy with the leather jacket, forming black eye, and blood stain on his jeans.

“_____, who’s this?” she inquired with a strained smile, eyes flickering between the two of you. You had a feeling Jungkook could easily sense the tension because you saw him shift awkwardly between his feet.

“Mom, I didn’t think you’d be home. This is Jungkook. I’m helping him with English. We’re in the same class.”

“Oh, you go to college with _____? Where are you from Jungkook?” You could see from the look in her eye that she was testing him. She already knew, but she never thought that you would actually be dumb enough to bring someone like him into her house.

There was a moment of silence where you could tell he was thinking carefully about what to say, and you tried to step in and answer for him with something safe that you hoped your mother would accept and maybe even make her think her assumption was wrong—although that was entirely unlikely—but he spoke over you. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with my part of town. It’s west of the river.” You shrunk when you saw the forced smile slide off your mother’s features. You glanced to Jungkook. You never would have guessed from the calmness of his voice, but there was a certain challenging glint in his eyes.

“I see. I never thought I’d see the day when my daughter brought someone like you into my home.” She gave you a once over and you fluttered your eyes shut in shame that you knew you had no reason to feel and shouldn’t be feeling, but that look on your mother’s face never failed to make you feel guilty for absolutely anything.

Jungkook’s tongue poked into his cheek and he laughed dryly. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll keep my grubby hands to myself.” Your mother’s eyes widened at his rebellious response, and you quickly ushered him up the stairs to prevent any other confrontation that might have occurred had you not intervened.

Once you reached the top of the stairs and achieved peace for the present moment, you led Jungkook to your bedroom and quickly shut the door behind you, dragging your hands down your face in embarrassment and guilt and frustration and... you weren’t even sure what you were feeling at the moment. Jungkook still wore a scowl on his face when you peeked through your fingers,  and he spoke, “No offense, but your mom’s kind of a bitch.”

You groaned and kept your hands where they covered your face, too afraid to meet his intense gaze. “I know. I’m so sorry.” You finally let your hands fall to your sides, defeatedly. “I didn’t think she would be home, so I didn't think we would have this problem.”

You were at a loss for words, disappointed and embarrassed, until you finally let out in a small voice, “She’s not really like that, or at least she wasn’t always. She’s just hurt.” Jungkook didn’t even have to make a move before you elaborated, hopeful to give him some sort of explanation he would accept. “My father was killed by a gang member from the other side of town, and she just hasn’t been the same since.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said equally as quietly as his eyes shifted to the ground. You saw his jaw clench and realized you were probably making him uncomfortable, so you dropped yourself onto your plush bed and patted the space beside you to beckon him to follow.

“Let’s get started on this paper, then,” you began jovially, although it was obvious to the both of you that the change of mood was at least partially forced.

Jungkook took slow steps to join you where you sat and released a quick sigh. “We’re not all like that.” Jungkook’s fingers were intertwined with each other while his elbows rested on his knees and his head was facing you, yet his eyes did not meet your own.

A soft, guilty smile grew on your lips. “It’s okay. I know.” You chewed on your bottom lip, lost in thought after your failure to divert from the subject. You were determined this time, however, as you motioned for him to bring out his laptop, asking, “Alright. What’s your topic?”

He laid his computer on his lap and handed you a paperback novel. “It’s a character analysis on a character of choice from this book.” You observed the illustrated cover and read the title. Luckily, you had read the novel before, so you could better help Jungkook write the essay. “I don’t know which character to write about though.”

You hummed in thought and flipped through the pages, briefly looking for names to jog your memory. “Well, the main character is the obvious choice, so if you want to impress your professor, that’s not the way to go. Were there any particular characters that interested you?”

Jungkook stared for a moment, but only shook his head in response, saying, “No. I didn’t even like the book.”

You frowned to yourself for a moment, remembering how much you had enjoyed reading the same book. You thought of the most memorable character and suggested to him, “What about Maxine? She was a major character and her story can be interpreted in several different ways, especially with how her relationship with Vernon developed.”

Jungkook scowled shaking his head. “She was the worst character. She couldn’t even take care of her own kid, let alone someone else’s. That’s why the whole plot seemed pointless to me.”

“Well, she was an addict, but throughout the story you could see her battling with her addiction for the sake of her son and everyone else who cared about her. She wasn’t able to succeed in keeping her son in the end, but her good characteristics shine through and that’s what you can write your paper about.”

“She was a shitty character and she didn’t care about her son, but if you want to insist I write the paper on her, then you can just write it for me.” Jungkook dropped the computer on the mattress in the space between you and pushed himself up off the bed, turning his back to you.

Your brows creased in concern as you stood up just a few steps behind him. You tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, wait, I didn’t mean to upset you. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. You’re just being annoying.”

He pushed your hand off of his shoulder and turned around to look at you, face still hardened. Your expression imitated his own, and you questioned impatiently, “Do you want me to help you or not?” Jungkook’s nostrils flared before his tensed arms folded over his chest dropped to his sides and he went back to his seat at the bed. You only observed him for a moment before you gave in and joined him once again, handing his laptop back to him and deciding to ignore the matter for now.

After a few hours of focusing solely on the paper, you both had finished and the final result was definitely worthy of a good grade. The majority of the time had passed in silence, with you leading most of the conversation and helping him with writing rules and him adding his own ideas to the paper silently. His quietness did not go unnoticed by you, though.

Jungkook was adding the finishing touches, and finally he closed his computer to pack it away. Meanwhile, you were debating bringing up the issue that had been weighing on you throughout the writing process of his essay. “Jungkook,” you began nervously, “I don’t know exactly what it was that made you so upset, but I’m sorry.” You glanced up to Jungkook, and you were sure you saw his hardened gaze become neutral as he noticed your eyes on him. “You can talk to me about whatever it is that’s bothering you, though. Just so you know.” One end of your mouth quirked up in an attempt to be comforting without overstepping your boundaries.

Jungkook rolled his head from one shoulder to the other, propping himself up on his hands. His eyes stayed on the corner of the ceiling as he explained. “I guess I just see a lot of resemblance between my own mother and Maxine.” Jungkook shuffled his feet on the ground before continuing, “I guess now that you explain it though, Maxine was actually better than her when it comes down to it.”

You watched silently as his brows pulled together in concentration on the floor below him. You could tell he had been hurt, though you weren’t exactly sure how, but you didn’t expect him to elaborate any further. You sighed in thought and melted further into your bed. “Don’t go feeling sorry for me, now. It never actually mattered to me.” You almost pointed out the mirthless smile that spread across his lips, but kept your mouth shut tightly in a moment of hesitation. It wasn’t difficult to see that he was suppressing his emotions, and you knew he would eventually pay for having done that for probably a majority of his life, but you were afraid to push your thoughts onto him seeing how he had a habit of shutting down whenever he had to express something real.

Jungkook cleared his throat, suddenly ushering you out of your thoughts and you hadn’t even realized that you had been staring the whole time. Your eyes darted away, but you didn’t miss the silent chuckle that came forth from Jungkook’s lips. With your face burning red, you diverted your attention to the time on your phone screen, gasping, “I didn’t even realize it had gotten so late.” You stood up, pulling back your curtains and peeking outside to see the sun had already set. “You shouldn’t walk home at this time of night. Do you want me to get you an Uber?” you worried, already pulling up the app on your phone.

He placed his hand on the rim of your phone, pulling it down to get your attention, chuckling, “I’m fine. I can handle myself.”

You pressed your lips together, concerned, still hesitating to let him go when you could help. He already picked up his bag and threw it over his shoulder, however, so you were forced to digress as he began to walk away. You followed him down the stairs toward the front door, requesting, “Fine, but text me when you get home safely.”

Jungkook couldn’t hold back his laughter, throwing a look over his shoulder at you. “Don’t smother me.”

“I’m not!” you countered with a grin. You crossed your arms over your chest at the breeze let in as Jungkook turned to face you one last time on the front porch.

Jungkook looked over your shoulder and the fraction of a smile that had been present on his lips faded away. “I’ll see you later, _____.”

You bid him farewell in return and in the next moment he was descending the front steps and on his way home. You closed the door and you were once again surrounded by the warmth of the inside, but your goosebumps did not go away when you saw your mother who had been standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching as he left. The both of you made eye contact for a few moments before she wordlessly turned and walked back into the kitchen, and you did the same, slinking back into your room as if you hadn’t seen her.

You laid on your bed, finishing up studying for class the next day, when your eyes shifted down to the numbers displayed in the bottom right corner of the screen. It was almost midnight. Jungkook should have gotten home by now, but the multiple times you had checked, even in the moment, you still received no message. You took it upon yourself to make sure he made it back alright.

‘Did you get home safely?’ You sighed throwing your phone down next to you, not expecting him to respond anytime soon since he was always very flaky with texting.

Your screen lit up within a few minutes however with a new message from Jungkook. You quickly slid your thumb across the screen and unlocked your phone to read his reply. ‘yes.’ It was short and simple, like his messages always were. He was a man of few words on all levels. However, for some reason, you couldn’t help the giddy feeling you got, your lip caught between your smiling teeth at the thought that—though highly unlikely—his quick reply meant that he had been waiting for you to say something first. You felt silly, like you were a freshman in high school all over again, but the feeling was nonetheless welcomed.

Your fingers speedily typed back, ‘Good. You had me worried for a second there.’ You patiently watched the screen for a while until the read receipt popped up under your message. However, there was no indication of a reply coming your way, and you rolled your eyes at the far too familiar scenario. You lifted your head up for a moment, letting your eyes scan around your room for no particular reason until they landed on a black bag in the corner of your room. It resurfaced a thought that had been lingering in the back of your mind for a while now, and you decided now was as good a time as any to confront it. Typing once more on your phone, you sent one more message to Jungkook. ‘Can we meet at the cafe tomorrow? There’s something I want to give to you.’

Suspecting Jungkook’s record-time reply was a one-time-only kind of thing, you placed your phone on your nightstand and closed your computer up, laying back in your bed to finally get some sleep for class the next day.

You sat at your usual table in the far corner of the cafe, waiting with both of your drinks already ordered and paid for in return for last time. Luckily, today, you weren’t kept waiting for long as Jungkook came walking in relatively on time with a black baseball cap pulled down tightly. As soon as he sat, you ducked your head and discovered the reason for his not-so-subtle accessorization. His eye had become darker than it was the day before. You clicked your tongue reaching over and lifting the cap to get a better look at it, fighting against Jungkook’s grip to hold it in place.

“Must have been quite a fall, huh?” you observed with an incredulous glare. Jungkook only silently nodded. You both knew that you knew he was lying, but no one said a word. After a moment of thought, you inhaled sharply and bent down to where the black bag sat next to you, pulling out the object of interest. “Right. I have something for you.”

Jungkook observed with a raised brow and watched as you pulled out your camera that he had seen countless times before. You placed it on the table and grinned, waiting for any sort of response, but Jungkook’s eyes only flickered between you and the camera cluelessly. “What?” he finally gave in and questioned.

You rolled your eyes dramatically and pushed the camera across the little table closer to him. “I’m giving you the camera!”

Jungkook’s eyes were suddenly huge and his mouth hung open for a mere second in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. This camera costs a lot of money. Why would you just give it to me?”

Your eyes trailed down and you shrugged slightly. “I don’t know, you just got so excited when you saw it the first time that I’ve been thinking about how much more you deserved it since then. After this semester ends, I won’t even want to touch a camera again, but you love photography, so it’s much better in your hands.”

“Why don’t you just keep it until the end of the semester, then? There’s only a few more weeks.” His eyes were glued to the object in front of him like a child looks at a candy bar.

“I’ll get a different camera, a cheaper one, and that way you can use that one for the final project.” Jungkook still looked hesitant, looking to you one final time for some sort of approval. Your laugh bubbled up inside of you. “It’s yours! Take it.” His hands took hold of the camera in no time, a beaming smile on his face, as he began snapping pictures of anything and everything in sight. He took one of the tree just outside the window, then a picture of the two coffee mugs placed beside each other on the table, stopping to take a look at the results for just a moment before diving right back into it.

You weren’t even sure what made you want to give him the camera all of a sudden, but as you watched him, you realized it was probably because of that childlike smile on his face. Every once in a while, he was unable to uphold his strong exterior and instead he just let it down and showed a completely different side of himself, one that very few were ever lucky enough to see. It made you happy that you were one of the few.

Suddenly, you noticed that the camera lens had been pointed directly at you. You tried to bring your hands up to hide your face, but Jungkook was already looking at the result, signalling you had been too late. “Delete that!” you whined as Jungkook laughed obnoxiously, jerking the camera away from you as you tried to take it away from him. When he looked at the picture, his laughing grin turned into a softer smile. “Jungkook, please get rid of that. I probably looked so—”

“You look…” he cut you off, stopping mid sentence in thought. He looked up to you for a mere moment and then back down to the picture. “...beautiful.” At that moment you were completely floored, unable to say anything else. In the dead silence between the two of you, it was as if Jungkook had just registered what he said, and he quickly set down the camera, looking out the window because he had no idea where else to look.

You bit down on your lip to hold back the smile that wanted so desperately to spread across your face, pushing a few stray strands of hair back behind your ear. “Thank you,” you mumbled. Jungkook still looked out the window, but you heard a laugh get caught in his throat, which escalated to both of you giggling and blushing like idiots. Anyone walking by would look at the both of you and think you’re just a pair of awkward teenagers falling in love. Maybe that’s exactly what you were.

Your mother would kill you if she knew what you were doing right now. Jungkook wanted to kick off summer vacation with something new. You were hesitant at first, but Jungkook was able to coerce you into it, so now you found yourself in Jungkook’s side of the city, a place you had never ventured to before. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little scared, especially because of the way your mother described it, whether it was completely true or not, but it definitely didn’t help when Jungkook told you to stay close to him, which made your heart beat faster for two completely different reasons.

After passing through a dark alley that gave you goosebumps, Jungkook led you to a beaten up little building. You read the glowing sign at the top dubbing the building Roy’s Diner. “You brought me all the way here to eat?” you asked Jungkook doubtfully.

“Trust me. It’s worth it. The food here is amazing.” Jungkook walked a few steps ahead of you and looked back to see you examining the restaurant. You weren’t one to judge a book by its cover, but you weren’t even sure how this place was passing any kind of building inspections. “Come on, it’s one of my favorite places. It was in real bad shape a few years ago and on the brink of closing down.”

“Well, if you love this place so much, you should work to fix it up and save it. I’d be willing to help, too, if you want,” you offered.

Jungkook looked at you like you were crazy. “Save it? What are you talking about? It’s already been fixed up. The place is thriving now!” He gestured grandly to the building, causing you to give it a doubtful second examination. You weren’t exactly sure what his definition of ‘thriving’ was, but it must be vastly different from yours judging by the flickering neon sign and the walls that desperately needed painting and, quite frankly, looked like they could very well cave in on themselves soon. You gave him a tight smile, but he only rolled his eyes. “Look, it may not look like all those fancy restaurants you’re used to, but I promise, I’m about to introduce you to the best fries and milkshake you have ever tasted in your life. Nothing beats Roy’s cooking.”

After Jungkook had grabbed your hand and practically dragged you inside, you were met with a much different atmosphere than what you were expecting. It was unexpectedly warm and cozy inside, and the loud chatter and laughter coming from all around almost made it feel like you were at a rowdy Thanksgiving dinner. Suddenly almost everyone that had been engrossed in a conversation turned towards the door to see the two of you had arrived. There was a deafening chorus of greetings to Jungkook, mostly from the older folks at the bar and surrounding tables whom Jungkook dragged you over to. Only after Jungkook gave almost each and every one of them a hug, which was much to your surprise, did some of the older women notice you were there. “Oh, Jungkook! You finally got yourself a girl and brought her here to meet us!” one of the women practically shouted as another tried to pinch Jungkook’s cheek while he quickly tried to maneuver away.

Jungkook rubbed at the back of his neck, finally realizing he still held your hand in his own and quickly released his grip, much to your disappointment. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s a friend from college, and I brought her here so she could try Roy’s famous food for the first time and change her life forever.”

Several of them chimed in, greeting you after you introduced yourself shyly. Jungkook went to grab a menu for you, and the ladies took it as an opportunity to chat some more with you. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

“No, I’m not actually.” You could barely even hear their responses since they all talked over each other, and although you had expected at least some of them to draw conclusions and figure out you were from the other side of town and treat you differently, they all still gave you friendly smiles.

Jungkook came back just in time to save you from more of their questions, thankfully, and brought you up to the counter to order food from the restaurant owner he introduced you to, Roy. You ended up getting a burger with the infamous fries and milkshake Jungkook kept going on about. Over dinner, much of the topic of conversation stayed on you and mostly Jungkook since, as many of his friends implied, he hadn’t visited recently. You ended up loving the atmosphere and how close everyone seemed to be. Even Roy would talk with everyone in between orders, and though you had never met anyone before, everyone was welcoming and open to talk with you. In fact, they were eager to see you and to see that Jungkook “has some friends his own age” as they teased.

You were finally finishing up your milkshake as the sky was just becoming dark, and the restaurant, while still buzzing, had quieted down considerably enough to have a conversation at normal volume. Jungkook had left you sitting at the counter alone while he went to the bathroom, and you couldn’t hold back the smile to yourself thinking about the way he interacted with all these people he seemed to be so close to. You looked up as Roy stood on the other side of the counter from you, cleaning a glass with a towel. “You seem like a great girl. I’m glad Jungkook met someone like you.”

You blushed, expecting him to only make some simple small talk while Jungkook wasn’t around. “Oh… I wouldn’t say it like that.” You laughed nervously, pushing stray hair back out of your face. “We’re only friends. We just talk sometimes.” ‘Sometimes’ was a bit of an understatement you realized, but it seemed most of the people got the impression that you were Jungkook’s girlfriend, which unfortunately wasn’t the case.

“Let me let you in on a little secret. Don’t tell Jungkook I told you this, but he doesn’t bring just anyone here. These people are like his second family, and if he thinks you’re good enough to meet them, then you’re pretty darn special.”

You couldn’t help the butterflies from fluttering in your stomach at the thought. A sudden thought came to you and you bit your lip, wondering if it would be appropriate to ask. You decided it probably wouldn’t hurt, grabbing Roy’s attention once again. “Sorry, you said this is like his second family?” He nodded easily. “Well, if you don’t mind me asking, who’s the first?” You questioned carefully, hoping it wasn’t too forward or prying of you to wonder about such things. You knew that Jungkook’s parents were out of the picture, so you tried to imagine who else he would be close with besides the people in this room.

Roy stayed silent for only a moment before both of you saw in the corner the door to the restrooms swing open and Jungkook wiping his hands dampened from the sink on his shirt. As Jungkook made his way back to take the seat next to you, Roy gave a tight smile and a quick nod to hastily end the conversation. Your forehead creased in confusion, wondering why there had so suddenly been something secretive come up. You smiled as Jungkook came and took his seat next to you again, but you couldn’t quite wipe the puzzlement off your face. “What’s wrong?” Jungkook suddenly asked, throwing his arm over your shoulder, which you were sure was only a product of him being just a little bit tipsy.

“Nothing.” You shook your head.

After Jungkook had walked you home that night, you were met with a very displeased mother. You did stay out a little late, you admit, but you should have that freedom. You’re a fully functioning adult, yet here you are, getting lectured by your mother. Though it wasn’t all bad, especially since you weren’t paying an ounce of attention. Instead you were thinking about Jungkook walking you home just minutes before. He had a few drinks at the diner, so he was a bit more carefree than he was on a usual basis, so the entire way home, you had the pleasure of feeling the warmth of his hand wrapped around yours and for a moment everything felt so real.

And that’s when you realized there was no turning back. Your hand felt empty now that his wasn’t there anymore and there were too many lingering butterflies to be ignored. Again, maybe this is the result of the tiniest bit of alcohol that you’re hoping desperately your mother doesn’t smell on you right now since you were still technically underage.

The thought of your mother ruined it all though. The warm fuzzy feeling became cold as you remember that as long as she had a say, being with Jungkook was out of the question. You could take one look at him and easily see he was the epitome of a boy your mother would never approve of, with his all black clothes and leather jackets, his pierced ears, his dark yet endearing—at least in your eyes—humor. Your mother would keel over if you ever revealed you had feelings for him.

And this was assuming that Jungkook even felt the same way about you. But there had to be something there, right? You felt like with how you easy it was to talk to each other, and how much Jungkook has opened up to you, not to mention those few tender moments that you two never spoke about, it seemed pretty obvious there was something between the two of you. It couldn’t all just be in your head. Though you were still terrified, you came to the conclusion that you would let Jungkook know exactly what you were thinking and see what happens from there.

Making a decision that you would confess to Jungkook did not make it any easier to actually do it. You had never been the one to make the first move in the past, and Jungkook being the person of interest made it even scarier. Jungkook was coming over to your house so you could help him study for English, and your heart was beating erratically while waiting for the doorbell to ring. You couldn’t sit still and eventually began pacing in the living room, and you weren’t even sure if you were going to tell him today. However, today would be a good day, since your mom isn’t home and home is the best place to do it. If he turns you down, there won’t be any public embarrassment. So basically today is the perfect day to do it. So basically you have to do it. You began to pull at your hair in distress when finally the doorbell rang, and you probably answered it way too fast. As Jungkook greeted you, he smirked as he looked at the top of your head, smoothing down the hair that you must have messed up in your panic, and unfortunately you very obviously flinched away from his hand, playing it off with a nervous chuckle.

You silently led him up to your room, and he could most definitely tell that something was going on, but he didn’t say anything to acknowledge it, much to your relief. You let him into your room and closed the door behind you, taking in a deep breath. Luckily, as soon as you start to talk with each other like any other day, you begin to feel comfortable again and you finally feel relaxed.

After about an hour of studying, you take a break and you begin to wonder if this would be the time to say something. You began to go over the small speech you had rehearsed all morning, but before you could get anything out, you watch as Jungkook pulls off his hoodie, and as he does so, the short sleeve of his shirt on his right arm comes up, revealing a black image displayed on his skin which immediately piques your interest. “Wait, what was that?” you asked, tentatively pushing his sleeve up his shoulder to examine the image you had spotted hidden beneath it.

“Nothing,” he replied uninterestedly, brushing your hand away.

You locked gazes with him, wide eyes on display in an attempt to make him cave in.  “Well, it’s obviously a tattoo,” you reasoned aloud. “Any special reason?” Had you not had the suspicion that came into your mind, you would have let it be.

He quickly shook his head, breaking away from your curious eyes. “It’s just a tattoo. Nothing special about it.”

Your voice was soft now, and your eyes dropped to examine the lines in the wooden floors of your bedroom. “It’s a gang tattoo, isn’t it?” He only stared back, still with no intention of giving any answers. You figured that would be the reason why he was so apprehensive. Had it been any other tattoo, he probably wouldn’t have had any problem. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

He briefly exhaled through his nose, and his eyes fluttered shut before he gave a hasty nod. “I’ve told you before. I got mixed up with some bad people when I was younger, but don’t worry, it’s all in the past now.” You were glad he had gotten past it and hoped he was safe and out of that business now as he said he was.

Your gazes were locked on each other’s for far too long and you suddenly remembered what your original goal was, and you now realized you ruined the mood for that to happen. “I’m sorry,” you shook your head. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

“No, it’s okay,” Jungkook reassured softly. “I would have told you before, but I just didn’t want to scare you off.”

Your mouth curved into a small smile, arms hugging your torso. “You couldn’t scare me away. Don’t you know you’re stuck with me?” you joked. You suddenly realized now was the time. You had everything you wanted to say planned out, but now that it came down to it, you panicked and forgot all of it, so you had to say exactly what was on your mind. “Jungkook, you know you mean a lot to me, right? When I say that, I don’t mean as a friend either. I mean it as more than that, I guess.” You stuttered and slipped over your words and began to trail off in your last statement in nervousness, which became full panic as you observed the smile slip from his face.

“_____...” That was all he said before an agonizing amount of silence and out of all the scenarios you had thought up, this was probably the worst of them all. “You don’t mean that.”

“What? Of course I do,” you insisted, reaching out to him, but he only coiled back out of your reach. “Jungkook…”

“No. I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” He tried to walk away from you, but you grabbed onto his arm. You’d accept it and let him go if he had just rejected you, but you could tell something was wrong.

He shook your grip off and picked up his books and stuffed them into his bag in a hurry. “What is wrong with you?” you questioned desperately at his sudden shutdown. Then it all made sense. “That’s it. You’re shutting down again. You can’t stand it when you have to deal with any sort of real emotion.”

He scoffed, “Don’t try reasoning me out of this. I don’t want anyone to depend on me like that, not even you.”

“So, that’s it? You’re just never going to feel anything?” He stopped and looked up to you from his bag, locking eyes, and you hated how they had suddenly become cold and unfamiliar.

“No, _____, I’m not, and that’s why you should just give up on me. I can’t give you what you want. Go find someone else that’s not gonna hurt you.” You didn’t want to watch him walk away. You had no way of knowing what his true feelings were, but you knew that this wasn’t what he needed. He said he didn’t want anyone to depend on him, but in reality, he was afraid to depend on someone else. He didn’t want to put himself in a position to get left behind again, scarred by memories of his mother who had abandoned him.

All you could do was let him figure things out on his own. If he really did love you, then he would find his way back. All you can hope is that you didn’t just lose one of the best things that had ever happened to you. “Okay, if this is how it is, then I’ll let you go. I can’t keep doing this, Jungkook.”

He was already taking large strides out the door to get away as fast as his feet would carry him. “I know,” was all he said. Then he was gone.

It had been a week since Jungkook walked out on you, and you were beginning to lose hope of seeing him again. You would usually give it a bit more time before you began feeling doubtful, but you hadn’t seen nor heard any sign of him.

You laid pathetically alone on your bed on a Saturday night that you should have used to spend time with friends, but you ended up turning down any plans that were offered. You opened your phone and looked through old messages between you and Jungkook, and you began to type a message to ask him how he was doing, but just before you hit send, you ended up erasing it all and throwing your phone back down. As much of a bummer as it was, you decided to take tonight to go to bed and get some extra sleep.

You had already shut off all your lights and tucked yourself into your warm bed when a sudden, echoing knock came from your window, almost scaring you out of your wits. You quickly stumbled out of bed and turned on the lamp that sat on your nightstand, opening the curtains without hesitation because you already knew exactly who would be waiting behind them.

There you saw Jungkook hugging his jacket closer around him in the chilling night winds. This wasn’t the first time he had come to you through your bedroom window. He had done it several times before when he came over and saw your mother’s car parked in the driveway to avoid having to get through her to see you. You unhooked the latch, hurrying him in as he struggled to climb over the window sill. “_____,” he breathed out through chattering teeth. “I’m so sorry.” He pulled you into a crushing hug, burying his face into the hair on top of your head. “I always fuck things up just when they’re starting to go right.”

“It’s okay, Jungkook,” you spoke gently, rubbing his back up and down as he stood still and inhaled your scent for a few moments.

He chuckled breathily. “How can you always forgive me even when I’m such an ass?”

“Because I love you.”

You had pulled away enough so that you could look him in the eyes when you spoke, hopeful that this time it would go right. Jungkook pulled you back to him, mostly so that he could hide his face when he told you, “I love you, too.”

Your mother had dragged you out of the house way too early for a Saturday morning to go shopping with her at all of her favorite designer-brand stores, which was already a shock to you since she hadn’t found time to spend with you in almost four years since she was always so busy with work. Now, out of nowhere, she was having you try on at least a dozen gowns at each stop.

“Okay, mom,” you sighed walking out of the dressing room wearing the last of several dresses she had picked out. “This is the last one.”

She smiled, motioning for you to turn around. “That one looks beautiful, too! Which one did you like the best?”

You turned around, scrutinizing the way the material draped over you in the mirror. “I don’t know. They all look nice.” You turned back to her, finally deciding to question the motive behind her sudden eagerness, hoping it wouldn’t ruin her rarely bright mood. “Why exactly am I looking for a dress?”

She folded her hands in her lap, crossing her legs over each other, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I wasn’t planning on telling you yet, but I’ll be hosting a gala, and I want you to come.” She looked for some kind of reaction from you, but you only continued to listen, smoothing the skirt of the dress you wore. She cleared her throat. “There will be a lot of young men there, soon to be owners of their parents’ companies. You should try to meet some of them.”

You finally looked back to her reflection in the mirror. “I’ve already met plenty of them,” you pointed out, brows creased in thought. “Is this your way of saying you want me to make connections?” you accused, stressing the word “connections” to imply it may have a different meaning. You heard rumors that big business owners would sometimes send their kids to high class social events hopefully form a relationship with another heir to merge the businesses and increase profit, but you didn’t think it was actually something that happened.

“I’m not saying I want you to do it, but you should be open minded to some of the boys you meet there.” She smiled to try to convince you, standing to speak with you at eye level.

“So, what, you want me to charm them with a pretty dress?” you asked. You scrunched your nose, looking down at the dress that you had once thought was pretty, but after staring for too long, you began to hate it.

“And your wonderful personality,” she joked with a playful pat on your cheek, but you couldn’t find it in you to laugh.

You’d met all these heirs to wealthy businesses before, and you knew that they weren’t interested in your personality. They weren’t looking for any sort of relationship, they were either looking for connections or a good time, and when it came to the unfortunate girls at these parties, they were usually stuck with the latter. And as spoiled rich kids, they didn’t like to be told no, which made you even more nervous than you already were.

You walked back into the dressing room, peeling off the itchy material of the dress you had to wear for far too long due to the unexpected news that had been broken to you. When you put back on the t-shirt dress and sneakers you had originally been wearing, you stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment. You began to think you liked yourself much better this way. You knew Jungkook liked you better this way. You bit back a smile at the thought of him, and it finally occurred to you that your mother didn’t even know that you and Jungkook were officially… whatever you were. You hadn’t really addressed it yet since that night. You did know, however, that you loved each other, but your mother wanted to send you into a room full of men you probably couldn’t trust. You began to wonder about what would happen if you brought Jungkook to the gala with you. Your mother would be furious, but you would feel so much safer. Though, you didn’t even know if Jungkook had any interest in going.

You heard a knock on the door, zoning you back into reality and making you realize you had been staring into the mirror in thought. “Are you ready?” you heard your mother’s voice calling from the other side.

“Coming,” you answered.

Jungkook had come over in the afternoon for what was supposed to be getting help from you for English, but when he actually arrived and you told him to get his books out, he didn’t even have his bookbag with them, so he claimed he “forgot” it. You knew he was lying, though. Jungkook had trouble with being direct. He always had to have some sort of excuse to see you rather than just wanting to spend time with you. You knew he actually cared behind all of this, though, but for now you would just have to learn how to interpret his roundabout methods.

Since he coincidentally didn’t bring his materials to study, he ended up laying down next to you in your place in bed, opting for just talking for a while. Jungkook had been looking around your room that he had practically memorized by now since he’d seen it so often, making it easy to spot any little change. He saw an extra framed picture on your nightstand of you and who he was positive was your father. He pointed it out, “That’s new.”

You looked over your shoulder to follow his line of sight and your eyes landed on the object of interest. “Yeah. I found that in a box a few days ago and decided to frame it and put it up.” You smiled at him, but it didn’t hold up for long as you engrossed yourself in thought.

“What?” Jungkook asked, looking down at you as a frown deepened on your face.

You shook your head. “Nothing.” You looked back at it one last time before turning back to him and grabbing his hand to fiddle with his fingers while admitting slowly, “I can’t even remember what his voice sounds like.”

“Don’t you have any videos where you can hear his voice?”

You nodded faintly. “I’m sure we have some somewhere, but I’d have to go looking for them myself. I don’t wanna bring my mom into it. She gets really upset when he’s brought up.”

“If it means getting to hear his voice, then you should just ask her. She can’t keep it from you, and you can’t let her pretend it never happened.” He was obviously letting his bias towards you affect his solution, but you remember clearly what happens to your mother whenever she hears about him, and although you two didn’t always get along, you would never purposefully do that to her.

Also, to be honest, you were shocked that Jungkook had even said what he had. You barely laughed, lacking humor, “Should I even take that advice from you?”

Jungkook’s lips turned down and his forehead creased. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You had a feeling this was leading into an argument you really weren’t looking to have, especially judging by his already irritable tone of voice. “I mean that you’re a prime example of ignoring the past,” you said as you tried to keep your voice even to remain peaceful without making him upset.

Jungkook sat up in the bed and you sighed, immediately regretting even bringing this up. “How have I ever done that? I fully acknowledge everything that’s happened to me.”

“It’s not that you choose to ignore the past itself, Jungkook, but you ignore the…” you paused to look for the right words as he waited impatiently, “the emotions you should be feeling from it.”

He scoffed, pushing himself off the bed, and he unintentionally rose his voice. “Who are you to tell me how I’m supposed to feel?”

“I’m not saying anything like that, Jungkook!” You began to shout as well, but you stopped yourself to control the volume of your voice, finishing calmly, “I’m just saying it’s okay to be sad.”

Jungkook held your gaze for a moment before shaking his head violently and dropping his eyes to the floor. “I’m not sad,” he spat.

You watched as he evened his breathing, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides. “Alright,” you gave in. “If you say you aren’t sad, then I’ll believe you.” You knew he was lying not only to you, but to himself, but you let it go, not wanting to argue with him anymore. You stood up, brushing his bangs away that hung down in his eyes, pulling him to sit back down next to you on the edge of the bed. You brought a hand to his cheek to lift his face to meet your eyes. “I want to ask you something, and I know it may be asking a lot from you, so feel free to turn me down.”

He waited patiently for what you had to say, and you thought for one moment, still nervous at the prospect of him actually agreeing. “My mom is hosting this gala,” you explained, “and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

He squinted his eyes at you, finding it hard to believe you would even ask him about something like that. “You want me to go to a gala with you? That your mom is hosting?” You nod silently in return, though you can easily see where he’s coming from. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“I know it’s not exactly your scene, but, if I’m honest, I’m a little worried about it. My mom wants me to make connections with some of the young heirs there. They’re not the most trustworthy people, though. I just think I would feel a lot better if you were there.” You looked up to him nervously in hopes that he would understand what you were trying to say. With the way his jaw tightened, you were certain he had gotten the point.

He swallowed, placing a comforting hand on your thigh and agreeing softly, “Okay. I’ll be there for you.”

Later that night, you both decided you would go out to eat at Roy’s again because Jungkook was right, that was the best fries and milkshake you had ever tasted. It still made you nervous to go into the more dangerous side of the city, but nothing happened last time, and with Jungkook there, you had nothing to worry about. However, your fears suddenly returned to you when you heard someone from behind you shout, “Jeon!”

Jungkook quickly grabbed onto your hand as you both turned around. They didn’t look threatening when you turned around. In fact, they were around your age and you began to think they may have been friends of Jungkook. The same one who had called out to him spoke again, “Your dad called an emergency meeting. Another gang’s been looking to take some of our territory.”

You froze. You must not have heard that right. You felt Jungkook stiffen beside you, too. “What did he just say?” you mumbled.

Jungkook stared ahead wordlessly, his lips pressed into a thin line. That’s when you knew you heard exactly what you thought you did. Your lip curled up in anger and you shouted, “You lied to me! You’re in a gang!” Your eyes filled to the brim with tears, but you tried not to let them fall. You repeated, “You lied to me, didn’t you?”

Jungkook swallowed, knowing there was no way he could get himself out of this. He let the silence boil in an angry pot for a long while before he found his voice again. “Yeah, I did,” he breathed, nodding slowly.

You turned your face away from him, hesitant to ask what was on the tip of the tongue because you were terrified of what his answer may be. “What’s the name?” you barely choked out, but when he only stuttered as an answer, you screamed at him, “Was it your gang that killed my dad?”

“We’re not like that, _____. He was kicked out as soon as we found out.”

He confirmed exactly what you were afraid of. You knew the emblem you had seen on his shoulder seemed familiar for a reason. You felt sick. You felt betrayed. The tears you had been holding back were now free falling down your face. “You knew? You knew the whole time and you didn’t tell me?” You roughly pushed at his chest, but he barely moved an inch.

He reached out for you before retracting his hand right away. “I didn’t want this to happen.” You didn’t want to hear his excuses. You didn’t even want to see his face right now. You just needed to get away. When you turned on your heel, he called out your name, but you didn’t listen. When he tried to go after you, the men who came to get him held him back and hurried him away. He tried to fight to push past them, but he knew that if he chased after you, you would only hate him even more.

By the time you arrived home, you could barely even stand. You hadn’t even realized how much you were shaking, how violently your sobs had been wracking through you. When you reached the safety of solitude within your bedroom, you leaned on the post of your bed and sunk to the floor, burying your head in your hands. You weren’t sure how long you had stayed like that.

You heard a soft tap at your window and, knowing exactly who it came from, you pretended as if you didn’t hear it. Then Jungkook’s voice came quietly through the closed window, “Please let me in, _____.”

“Go away!” you shouted, not even moving to see his face. He didn’t leave though. Instead he kept tapping, which became impatient knocking, becoming louder and louder. You stood up and walked to the window and the sound finally ceased as he let out a sigh, but instead of unlocking the window like he had expected, you pulled the curtains closed and walked back to sit on your bed, staring emptily at the wall.

You could hear him growl in frustration. “Don’t make me break this goddamn window, _____!” you heard him scream from the other side of the curtains. You only shook your head and tried to ignore him until he left, but you jumped when you heard the crescendo of pounding on the glass, becoming more forceful by the second.

You hurriedly rushed to your feet again to open the curtains, only to be met with Jungkook repeatedly driving his fist into the glass. “You’re insane!” you cried out. You quickly unhooked the latch that kept him locked outside in fear that he would really form a crack in the glass. He immediately pushed through and took your face into his hands, pulling you close. “Get away from me!” You frantically fought, pulling his hands away from you and trying to put distance between you.

He placed his forehead against yours, whispering, “_____, please listen to me. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” You suddenly ran out of energy to continue fighting him, but you still kept a grip on his wrists as his hands still rested on each side of your face. Your sobs didn’t cease, however, and he slowly slid his hands down to wrap around your waist and bring you into his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head as you reluctantly melted into him in exhaustion. “Please forgive me.”

“Jungkook,” you breathed weakly.

He stopped you quickly, reminding you of a conversation the two of you had in the past. “You’ve said it yourself before. You know that I’m nothing like that man.”

“Of course I know that.” You shook your head before you pulled away from him, but he wouldn’t let you go far enough to where he had to let you go. “I’m angry because you kept this from me. You knew it was something I needed to know, but you kept it to yourself anyway.”

He sighed and he was about to plead for you to forgive him once more, but the vibration of his phone is his pocket brought his words to a halt. You saw that he immediately became worried when he read the caller ID and answered the call without hesitation. You couldn’t make out the words on the other end, but the way his face contorted in worry let you know that it was bad news. He ended the call with a quick affirmative and when he hung up, he looked frantic. “Shit,” he hissed. “There’s an emergency back at home. I’ll come back later tonight, though. We aren’t finished here,” he promised, already making his way back outside.

You woke up the next morning surprised that you had ever been able to fall asleep. You hadn’t even bothered trying to fall asleep the night before since you knew that if Jungkook said he was coming back, then he was coming back. But he never did return, which worried you. You didn’t want to care, but no matter how hard you tried to hate him, the fact that he never actually came back made you think something bad happened, and that scared you. You tried texting him early in the morning, several hours after he had left, but now even after you had slept and woke up again, you still received no response, which was extreme even for him.

Knowing all that you knew about him now, you could only assume the worst, especially since you had heard about the apparent emergency that he had gone to take care of. You rushed to get yourself ready to go out and look for him only to be stopped when you realized you had no idea where you should be looking. Of course your first instinct was his home, but you didn’t actually know where that was. You found it hard to believe you hadn’t realized until now how much you still didn’t know about Jungkook. So, you went to the only place you knew of where you could find any sort of hint of where to find him.

You pushed through the heavy door that led into Roy’s diner, immediately met with several heads whipping your way to get a look at the visitor. Since it was the morning, there were far fewer people than there had been the first time you came, but you saw several familiar faces, including Roy himself. You walked in nervously, feeling a little out of place now that Jungkook wasn’t by your side, which everyone was quick to notice. “Do you know where Jungkook is?” asked one of the older men that he had been talking to during your previous visit.

“That’s the problem,” you sighed. “He left last night saying it was an emergency and I haven’t seen him since. He isn’t answering his phone either.” You shook your head, looking down at your phone one more time, hoping to be proven wrong. The news even made Roy stop what he was doing behind the counter to listen, worrying just like the rest of them. They all shared concerned, knowing glances.

Roy approached you slowly, setting his towel down, explaining, “We heard news early this morning that there was a dispute between gangs.” You waited impatiently for him to continue. You figured that much already. “Jungkook’s father was killed.”

The breath left your lungs and you now understood why he didn’t return. You knew him well enough to know that he must be out there somewhere trying to deal with what he’s feeling, and from what you knew about him, he probably wasn’t coping well. Now you had to make sure he was okay. “Tell me where I might be able to find him.”

They tried to convince you to let someone else look for him and find him knowing he might not be in a good state, but you insisted that you would find him yourself. They gave in finally and mentioned several places he visited frequently, one of them being his home address, which you were thankful they trusted you enough to give to you, and you decided you would start there. You entered the address into your phone for directions since you had no idea how to navigate in this area of the city. Finally, you came to the house that the map had led you to, and it was a house just like any other that you had been passing for the past few minutes. You weren’t sure why you were expecting anything different.

When you carefully knocked on the front door, it creaked open ever so slightly from the little bit of force you gave. You pushed it open just a slight bit more, calling Jungkook’s name, hoping to find him inside. You received no answer though, which prompted you to take a tentative step inside as you pray that you got the right house and you weren’t accidentally walking into a stranger’s home.

Only a few steps in and you heard the crunch of glass underneath your shoe, and you looked down to find a picture that had fallen of the wall and smashed onto the floor. When you took a closer look, you saw a boy with familiar round eyes and you knew you were in the right house. As soon as you rounded the corner, however, you see that the living room and the kitchen had been trashed and torn to shreds, displaying a mess of broken glass and papers and trash scattered across the floors. Suddenly you suspected that the picture by the front door hadn’t fallen by accident.

After you had called out for Jungkook several more times, you concluded he wasn’t in the house. You began to look through your small list of other possible locations while leaving the house and carefully pulling the door shut behind you. You stopped in your tracks just as you reached the bottom stair when you heard a familiar voice, and after you searched, you found just who you had been looking for. Only, you weren’t expecting him to be threateningly pinning someone up against a wall.

You approached quietly, listening for what you hoped would be an explanation. You saw Jungkook had pinned a man by the collar of his shirt to the outside wall of a building in an alleyway just on the other side of the road from his house. “Are you one of them?” he screamed, interrogating the terrified man.

“One of who?” the poor man questioned, fighting Jungkook’s grip, though you were surprised he couldn’t escape given Jungkook only used a single hand.

Jungkook bared his teeth in rage. “The bastards that killed my father!” You approached slowly, calculating the best way to deal with Jungkook while he was in such a fragile state. Though your knowledge about this was limited, you knew for sure that this man had no gang affiliations just by looking at him and how he seemed as if he hadn’t fought once in his entire life. Throwing a beer bottle down, smashing it to pieces that violently scattered causing both you and the man to flinch away, Jungkook cried out, “I promise I’ll obliterate every single one of them!”

You took the chance to lurch forward and firmly take hold of his arm, hoping to bring him down from his rampage. Jungkook’s head snapped to you and the man used this distraction to escape his grip and make a run for it. Jungkook noticed and wanted to push past you and chase after him, but you blocked his path, though he kept fighting to pass you, blinded by rage and, from what you could smell in his breath, intoxication. “Please, Jungkook, calm down! I know your pain, trust me, but this isn’t the right way to handle it! Let me help you!” you tried reasoning with him.

He pushed your hands off of him, backing away. “Who said I wanted your help? Who said I wanted you to force yourself into my life and try to fix everything?” he spat. You shook your head in disbelief. “I’m perfectly fine! What makes you think I need to be saved?”

“Jungkook, I know you don’t mean that.”

“I do!” he shouted. His shoulders heaved and then the tension in his face began to melt. “I…” He spoke more unsurely now. Then he had dropped himself onto his knees, hands pounding into the ground. Worried he was hurt, you slid down beside him only for his arms to wrap tightly around your waist. His face buried into the crook of your neck and he began to sob. You were worried and you hurt for him, yet somehow you were also relieved knowing that he was finally able to let go of the idea that he had to always be strong. You soothingly ran your fingers through his hair as you let him stay there for however long he needed. “He’s gone,” he choked out weakly.

Jungkook never told you much about his father. In fact, he said that he didn’t see him much and that they weren’t close. You couldn’t tell if that had been another lie to keep you from knowing the truth or if that had been true and he felt this way purely from the fact that he had lost both of his parents now. Either way, you could tell he was broken. “It’s okay,” you whispered.

“Promise me that you’ll stay with me, _____.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him. There you both sat, in the middle of an alley, where Jungkook finally shed what very well could have been his first tear, and you knew that he needed you.

After seeing the state his house was in, you figured it wasn’t the best idea to let him return there alone for fear he might go off the rails again, so you let him come with you. You weren’t sure whether your mother would be home or if she would ever even notice if you kept him up in your room, but you were willing to face whatever she had to say if she were to find out, knowing this was about your only option. You had to support him on the way as he drunkenly stumbled through the streets at midday.

When you finally arrived home with him and led him up to your room, he collapsed in exhaustion on your bed. You looked over him in concern for a moment before sighing as you combed your fingers through his hair. You figured you would get him some water for when he woke up since he had consumed so much alcohol, but when you tried to leave his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back to him. “Don’t leave,” he mumbled. You glanced back at the door, but you ultimately decided to follow his request and stay with him.

You sat down beside where he laid, pulling your wrist out of his grip and sliding your hand into his to hold it comfortingly. You saw a hint of red on his face and squinted to get a better look, but you had to gently nudge his face to get him to turn to you from where he had it buried in the sheets to block out the light. You saw his lip was letting out a fair amount of blood and you began to get up to clean it up, ignoring his groan of protest as you left his side.

You came back with a cold, wet rag to press to his lip to stop the bleeding. You sighed, giving his body a once-over, seeing clearly he was in bad shape, both physically and emotionally. You set the rag aside again after a moment and went back to softly stroking his head. You whispered to him, though you were sure he was too far gone in sleep to listen to you by now, “Please don’t do this to yourself again. Please don’t do something reckless and get hurt.”

To your surprise his eyes barely fluttered open at your words before they closed once again, but he exhaled heavily, assuring you, “I won’t. I promise.”

When you woke up the next morning, the bed had been significantly colder than it had when you went to sleep. As you blinked the sleep out of your eyes, you realized it was because Jungkook was no longer there, sleeping beside you with you wrapped in his arms like he had been when you fell asleep. He must have left sometime in the middle of the night. You couldn’t help but feel a little worried. You weren’t sure of he had completely sobered up yet, so you worried if he had gotten home safely or not. You called him, but he didn’t pick up. Then you texted him to ask where he was, thinking he probably wouldn’t answer that either, but to your surprise, he did. Although, all he said was ‘Don’t worry. I’m fine. I’m gonna be busy today.’ You knew something was going on, already, but you were immediately afraid for him when he followed with, ‘I love you.’

That was unlike him. He was possibly the least straightforward person you knew, so he only said that when he felt like he absolutely had to. And you were afraid of why he thought he had to tell you so suddenly.

Before you could barrage him with questions, you heard the bell ring at your front door, so you went to answer, hoping for some reason that it would be him. When you opened the door, it wasn’t Jungkook, but instead it was the man who had called Jungkook for the meeting and ultimately revealed the truth about him. He cleared his throat. “May I come in for a moment?” You hesitantly stepped back, opening the way fully for him to enter. “I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Namjoon. I’m a member of Jungkook’s gang.” He said quickly, lowering his voice at the last phrase. He seemed to be rushing through the formalities to get to the real reason he had come. “Have you seen Jungkook?”

The question took you by surprise. You had been hoping to ask him the same question, but since he didn’t know either, your nerves were anything but calmed. “No. When I asked him where he was, he texted me saying he was busy and not to worry about it.” You thought for a moment, licking your dried lips. “He sounded off, though.”

Namjoon nodded attentively. “I see. There’s a good chance my suspicions are correct, then,” he speculated, pacing noticeably.

“What suspicions?” You were almost afraid to ask. It was easy to see that Namjoon was tense, so you knew that it couldn’t be good news.

“I think he’s going to try to get revenge for his father.” Your jaw went slack in shock. “I think he wants to kill that gang’s leader.”

“What? What if he gets hurt?”

Namjoon exhaled slowly, rubbing his chin as he spoke, “If that’s the case, he’ll be going up against several members before getting to the leader, so the likelihood is high.”

Your heart dropped in your chest. What was he thinking going up against so many people all on his own? You began to panic. “Well, what are you doing here? Someone needs to go help him or stop him or something!”

Namjoon said with the tap on the screen on his phone, “I’m already on it. I’m sending backup for him right now. I’ll be going too.” He was already taking large strides to the door when he quickly turned back around to you. “Keep the doors locked and don’t answer the door unless either me or Jungkook have told you to,” he warned before shutting the door behind him.

Somehow his warning made you even more nervous. You were sure you had nothing to worry about for yourself since you were far away from where all the action would take place, but it clearly meant that he thought these people were dangerous. And Jungkook was going to face them all alone. You just hoped that his backup got there fast enough.

You had been trying to shake the thoughts out of your head for far too long until you began to feel cramped within the walls of your own home. Though you were aware of Namjoon’s advice, you decided to walk for a bit to clear your head and to get some fresh air. Surely no one wanting to hurt you would be brave enough to cross the river to the highly-secured side of the city. You had been wandering for a while, not paying much attention to where exactly you were going and instead following wherever your feet carried you as you watched the petals fall from the cherry blossoms in order to distract yourself.

Eventually you found yourself stopping just before the bridge. Just a few more steps and you could be crossing over to get Jungkook out of his mess once again, but he said it himself. It wasn’t up to you to save him. He’s going to be okay, you assured yourself. With eyes still glued to the opposite end of the bridge, you turned around to walk back home.

As you began the walk back home, you thought you saw a shadow of someone behind you, but when you turned no one had been there. You were sure it was only your imagination, but now you were starting to wish you had stayed at home as your nerves began to act up. You took up a quicker pace, finally deciding you were safe after you were walking with no interruption for a few minutes. Just as you were calming down, you jumped as the ringer of your phone blared in the thick silence of the streets. You breathed in relief as you brought it out of your pocket and read your mother’s name displayed on the screen.

“Hello?” you answered. She was asking where you were since you had told her you would be home for dinner with her. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m coming home right n—” Your words were smothered by the gloved hand that latched itself over your mouth. You tried to tug yourself free and cry out for help, but your arms were only swatted away and your phone tumbled to the ground still on call with your mother. You frantically swung your feet in attempts to escape, but they were swept out from under you and you fell to the ground, your head hitting the pavement and darkening your vision until you lost consciousness.

Your head was pounding when you finally gained some awareness again. You could tell there were voices around you, but they were difficult to discern since your groggy state made everything sound muffled as if you were underwater, with the way it was muddled in your brain. It took a while to finally come to, but when you did, you could finally make out one of the voices as the very one you had been waiting for. When your eyes came into focus, you could make out Jungkook standing across a large room from you, pointing his gun at something to your right. You tried to turn your head to look despite the shooting pain in your neck from how you head hung down unnaturally. Your eyes met an unfamiliar man, also holding his own gun, but instead of pointing it back at Jungkook, it was directed at you. You tried to moved, but your limbs were bound to the chair you sat in.

You gulped, realizing the situation, most of your mind’s fogginess disappearing. “Look who’s finally decided to join us,” he observed, smiling sinisterly in your direction.

Jungkook briefly met your panicked eyes, but he diverted back to the man keeping a stone cold expression. “How did you find her?”

“You’re very reckless. How do you expect to take your father’s place?” At that remark, Jungkook’s grip tightened on his pistol and bared his teeth in anger. His finger twitched on the trigger and he was going to give in, but when the gun in the man’s hand was pushed closer to your temple, he brought the gun back down slightly in order to stop him from hurting you. The older man only chuckled. “You had such great potential to become a cold-blooded killer, an unstoppable machine, but instead you hold yourself back with these distractions.” The man tilted his head in indication of you as said “distraction.”

“The only person I’m looking to kill is you.”

“Are you sure you want to say that to me right now?” he asked, teeth bared and all easiness void from his tone. The mouth of the gun was now pushed harshly into your temple and you squeezed your eyes shut with a sharp intake of breath. Only a moment later, though, you no longer felt its the cold metal on your skin and you saw he had lowered it out of the corner of your eye. His face took on another chilling smirk. “You know, I could go ahead and kill her now… but then again, she would make an awfully pretty prize.”

Jungkook was fuming and, raising the gun once more and taking a risky step forward, he growled, “Don’t fucking touch her!” The man only stared back at him daringly, analyzing his every movement, the way his feet faltered in their placement on the ground, his hand just barely shook as he held out his gun. There was no way he would risk anything as long as you were in danger.

Suddenly there was a faint shuffle somewhere within the walls of the large warehouse you were held in and everything went silent as everyone went on alert, listening carefully. Suddenly, you flinched and your heart beat erratically as a gunshot ran through your ears, and it took a moment of panic to realize it hadn’t been directed at you. You turned to the side, seeing the man had dropped his gun and grabbed onto his arm in pain. His groan of pain was cut short by yet another bullet lodging into his thigh, causing his leg to give out on him and he fell to the ground.

Then a crowd of men came from the direction of the bullets, led by Namjoon who had been placing a handgun back into his waistband. Jungkook ran over to you to free you from the ropes that held you down, pulling out a switchblade from his pocket and cutting you free. When all of the ropes around you fell loosely to the floor you wrapped your arms around him, feeling his heart beating rapidly. He pulled away and his eyes travelled to your forehead. He carefully reached out to touch it and when his fingers barely brushed your skin, a pain shot through your skull. You brought your own hand up and felt what must have been dried blood. You hadn't even realized that had been there, but you deduced it must have been from when you fell to the ground during your kidnapping.

Jungkook lifted you out of the chair hastily with Namjoon by his side when commotion broke out in the back of the building. More men poured in from where Namjoon and the others had come, but they had their guns pointed at Jungkook’s men. Your feet slowed in their movements as you realized they were going to fight the men who had come to save you. Jungkook tugged you ahead and consoled you, telling you they would be fine, gesturing to the reinforcements coming in once Namjoon opened the front doors. As they passed by Jungkook, you figured they must be on his side. Taking once more glance back, you saw the other men retreating and dropping their guns as the soon realized they were far outnumbered and you briefly glanced at the leader who was still shuffling on the ground with his wounded leg. Jungkook had seen this, too, as he picked up his speed with you right beside him. You heard a gunshot go off and Jungkook roughly pushed you out the door. When you looked back inside as the three of you had finally reached safety outside, you saw no one else who had been injured, so you assumed everyone was safe.

You breathed heavily as the adrenaline began to wear off and your head began pounding because of your injury. You breathed a sigh of relief when you finally caught your breath, believing  the three of you had successfully reached safety, but you were quickly brought back to panic as Jungkook roughly leaned into the wall and let himself slide down to the ground, clutching his side. He hissed, lifting his hand and finding it stained crimson. You gasped and slid down next to him, Namjoon crouching beside you and examining the wound. You had been wrong when you thought that the gunshot had missed its target. No, it had hit exactly who it was aimed at, and that was Jungkook. A few men who had been in one of the many black vans parked outside the building came running over, carefully lifting Jungkook up from the ground and placing him in the back of the the van they had come from with a man with medical supplies waiting inside.

You followed behind them and stepped into the van when they set Jungkook down, not bothering to stop and wonder if they would even let you, but they did. The man grabbed scissors out of the case and cut open Jungkook’s shirt, blood seeping through the white material at an alarming rate. HIs shirt was pulled back to reveal the ragged gash in his side, and you had to look away. You found his hand in yours, however, and he squeezed it tight which felt like reassurance to you, but it was most likely because of the pain.

After a while of you silently staring out the window and Jungkook every so often hissing in pain, the bullet was removed and his torso was wrapped in a bandage. You finally looked back at him, relieved to see the job looked to be well done. Jungkook tried to readjust himself into a sitting position but immediately regretted it, groaning lowly and letting himself back down to lay where he had been before. You brushed your fingertips over the back of his hand and sighed as you watched his brows twitch.

Your head whipped towards the doors as Namjoon swung them open and climbed inside the back, sitting on the opposite side of Jungkook’s legs. He looked down at him with a frown pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes hardened as they were suddenly directed at you, and the unpleasant frown took full form when he met your eyes. “I told you to stay inside!” Namjoon scolded. “That was all you had to do, but then you just had to get yourself caught.”

Jungkook, who still looked fairly worn out, did not miss Namjoon’s comment. “What?” he questioned, looking at you, and under his stare you couldn’t keep guilt from bubbling up to the surface. “You knew what going on and you still put yourself in danger?” Your lips pressed together in a tight line. His voice that was still weak, but you could tell he was trying to raise it.

You huffed, retorting, “What was I supposed to do? You had me so worried! Jungkook, you told me just last night that you wouldn’t do something reckless and get yourself killed! Then I found out you were going on some crazy revenge mission. You lied to me! Again! How long are you going to keep this up, Jungkook?”

“I’ll keep it up however long it takes! Be honest, _____. If I had told you what you wanted to know, would that have changed anything? No! You still would have done something stupid!” His fists had tightened and the veins in his arms protruded.

“Why are you getting mad at me?”

“Because you almost got yourself killed, that’s why!” His hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, not enough to be painful, but it held you securely. His hands shook and you just now realized how fearful his face appeared. His voice lost its momentum and lowered to just above a whisper, “I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you today. I can’t let anything happen to you.” You could only swallow at his words, rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand that was still clasped onto your own. He sighed, defeated and resigning, “I know I shouldn’t have lied. I’m sorry.”

“But that’s the thing. You keep doing it. You keep lying because you think you have to, but you don’t! Please don’t lie to me anymore. There’s nothing you have to hide from me anymore.” He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away.

That was the last of what you said to him. He couldn’t promise you that the lies would stop. You weren’t sure if that meant he still didn’t trust you or that you couldn’t trust him. You were in too deep for that, though. It’s not easy to give your heart away to someone without trusting them with your life. You tried to relieve your thoughts plaguing your mind through a deep heave of a sigh as you quietly closed the front door behind you. Your mother came running to the door at the sound. You thought she’d be at work.

She pulled you into a crushing hug before pulling away and inspecting the bandage that had been put on your head and interrogating, “Why did you disappear all of a sudden? And what happened to your head?”

You pulled her hands away. “Mom, I’m fine. I’m okay.”

“No, _____, you have to tell me what happened. I heard that over the phone! You can’t tell me nothing happened!” she rambled frantically, cutting you off once again before you could even anwer her. “I was so worried, you know that! I even sent the police out to look for you! Can you imagine how scared I was when they brought back your cell phone they found lying in the street, but they said there was no sign of you anywhere around it?” She slammed your phone down on the kitchen table without breaking eye contact with you. You could see her eyes become shiny.

You looked away and hesitated to give her an answer. “There were some problems… But I swear I’m alright. Jungkook—”

“I knew it!” she burst out. “I knew this had something to do with him! I’ve always known being around him would put you in danger!” You tried to speak up in his defense but she stopped you with a motion of her hand. “Do you know how hard I’ve worked since your father’s been gone to keep us at the top? I only want to give you the life you want, but you’re ready to throw your life away for some low life boy off the streets!”

You screamed back in retaliation, “Don’t say that about him!” She gave you that look that she always does when you raise your voice at her, but this time instead of cowering away, you used her stunned silence to say what you’d wanted to say for far too long. “Do you really think I care about the money? I couldn’t care less if I didn’t have this big house or these expensive clothes! I just want my mom back.” She was still silent to your surprise and the tension between her angry eyebrow faltered only slightly.

Her voice was much more level now as she turned away and pinched the bridge of her nose, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from him.” She made her way out of the kitchen, only stopping once more in the doorway, looking over her shoulder. “Please. I can’t lose you, too.”

Your shoulders slumped with your labored sigh as you watched her retreating back. You didn’t miss her trembling lip. You supposed you never thought too hard on the emotional toll that encumbered your mother throughout this situation. In no way was she innocent, but you, too,  were far from being in the right. Maybe you had been the selfish one all along, you thought, making your way up the stairs to your bedroom with guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders. You found the dress you had finally decided on for the gala laid out on your bed. You rubbed the soft fabric between the pads of your fingers in thought. What were you thinking, asking Jungkook to come to the gala with you? Neither him nor your mother wanted that. It was only what you wanted.

You picked up your phone and quickly called his number without another thought. After several rings too many, the line on the other end connected. “_____?” he answered, his voice sounded gruff and exhausted.

“You weren’t asleep were you?” you worried. He made a small grunt which you were sure was supposed to mean no, but you knew it wasn’t true. He needed to rest to heal, after all. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m doing alright... Better.”

“That’s good,” you said, trying to make your way into the subject you had called about. “Listen, you probably forgot about it by now...”

“The gala’s on Saturday. I know. I promise I’ll be there, don’t worry.”

“Actually, I was going to say that you probably shouldn’t go.” You gnawed at your bottom lip, waiting, as it was suddenly silent on his end.

“Why?” he finally asked, sounding more aware and perturbed than you would have expected.

“Well, you need to heal. It would just be better if you didn’t go.”

“I’ve healed in less than a week before. I’ll be fine.” You didn’t say anything. He was suddenly so determined to go with you after you practically had to beg him when you first told him about it. “Why don’t you want me to go?” You could hear the frown on his face. You couldn’t understand why he was getting so upset.

You gave a weak chuckle in hopes to lighten the mood. “Why do you want to go so badly all of a sudden?”

He ignored your question. “Did your mom say something?” You clicked your tongue in response, but he knew you well enough to know that meant that you didn’t want to answer the question. He chuckled dryly. “Are you serious? I thought you weren’t gonna let your mom stop you from doing what you want from now on.”

“I know, but this is… different,” you found yourself whispering into the phone. It suddenly felt like you were talking behind your mother’s back.

“Oh, then what is it? Is it because you’re too embarrassed to be seen with me by all the rich heirs?” He now carried an accusatory tone. He always had a bad habit of jumping to conclusions.

“Of course not! You’re being ridiculous!”

“Then why don’t you want me to go?”

“I’ve just... been insensitive to my mom. I just don’t think it’s the best idea.”

“Insensitive to her? Have you forgotten how wonderfully she treated me?”

You’d had it then, groaning as you hung up the call. You threw your phone down on the bed and went to get changed in the bathroom. You heard your phone vibrate from its place on the bed and you could just barely make out Jungkook’s name across the top of the screen, but you didn’t make a move to answer it. It took three more missed calls until he finally gave up.

It was a petty, stupid fight, and yet it was Saturday and you hadn’t heard from him since your last phone call. You tried to tell yourself you were just giving him time to rest and recover, but in reality, you just couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to him. You wondered if he regretted it as much as you did.

The nerves fluttering in your stomach as you thought about the gala you were getting ready for made you begin to regret telling Jungkook not to go with you. You lightly brushed your fingers through your styled hair and took one last look in the mirror, scrutinizing the way the dress hung on your body. It wasn’t nearly as pretty as it had seemed before. It looked duller and you wished the skirt wasn’t so plain and lifeless. You weren’t sure what you had seen in it in the first place. You heard your mother call for you from the first floor, and on your way down you checked your phone one last time, but you still saw no notifications with Jungkook’s name on them.

You followed your mother into the limousine that drove you to the venue the gala would take place in, watching as you drove by the entrance to the bridge, wondering what Jungkook was doing on the other side. The rushing waters of the river seemed wider than ever.

You arrived at the gala much faster than you had hoped and found that many guests had already arrived. You walked in beside your mother, receiving several greetings and warm smiles, some looking more genuine than others. You made your rounds for a while, chatting with some of the other heiresses your age that you had known for years because of events just like these.

Eventually the crowd started to loosen up and the gala became more of a social gathering than a business meeting as most of the guests had already gone through a few glasses of wine. You chose to opt out of having any alcohol, though part of you wanted nothing more than to get drunk so the night would go by faster. After you finally got a break from conversation, you excused yourself and went down the hallway to the bathroom where it was much quieter and less crowded. You tried to pass by a man that you barely paid any mind to, but he reached out for your arm to grab your attention. “_____?” You turned and found that the face of the man that said your name was one that you were sure you had seen before, yet you couldn’t put a name to the face. “I’ve been looking around for you all night!”

You returned his charming grin with a polite nod of your head. “Oh yeah! I was wondering if I would see you tonight.” You were lying through your teeth and you were hoping it wasn’t painfully obvious.

“You’ve grown up quite a bit since I saw you last,” he said, looking you up and down. You chuckled nervously as his eyes lingered just a hair too long, especially now that you could smell the strong scent of alcohol on his breath after he had taken a step closer to you. “You know, we’re both set up to take over pretty powerful companies. I think we should try to get to know each other more—”

You frowned stepping back to regain your preferred personal space. “I’m sorry. That’s not something I’m looking for.”

You began to walk away, but his loud, gruff voice followed you, “You really shouldn’t cut someone off when they’re speaking! I think you should show me a little bit more respect!” He glared at you, clearly waiting for something, though you weren’t sure if what he wanted was an apology or just for you to say yes to him.

“And I think you’ve had too much to drink and that you’re a self-entitled prick,” you retorted. “I think you should get back to the party and leave me alone.”

He growled as you brushed past him, and he started to pursue you, but he was stopped short by a voice coming from behind both of you. “Hey. You heard her, man. Get out of here,” the voice ordered. You turned around to find Jungkook dressed in a suit and tie and with a flower in hand. The man only observed him incredulously until Jungkook sneered at him, making him finally give up and leaving only the two of you in the hallway. Jungkook’s glare finally softened once his eyes that had been watching intently as the man left found their way to your own. You hurried over to him, wrapping him in a hug and releasing a breath you weren’t aware you had been holding. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he apologized. “This is exactly why I wanted to come and I still let this happen. I didn’t want you to have to deal with guys like that.”

You stopped him, shaking your head to assure him you were fine. “No, no. I don’t even care about that. I’m just glad to see you again.” Your eyes trailed down to observe the black suit he wore, admiring how good he looked, but also chuckling at how out of character he looked. You weren’t complaining, though. Your gaze travelled to the flower he held in his hand and a grin spread across your face. “What’s this?”

You could see his cheeks slightly tint while he tried to explain himself. “It’s just an… apology, I guess,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He cleared his throat, holding the flower out for your to take. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad about something so stupid. I promised I’d be here and I wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry, too.” You twirled the stem between your fingers. You grabbed his hand again and pulled him along with you. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough of this party.” You rounded the corner only to be met with your mother, skidding to a stop to prevent from colliding into her. “Mom.”

She sighed, and you were afraid you were going to have to face another lecture, but she surprised you by pulling you into her arms. “I heard someone raise their voice, and then I heard you… I got so worried.” She let you go and turned her eyes to Jungkook, looking upon him for the first time without contempt. “I’ve been thinking a lot recently after hearing how _____ talks about you. So I want to say thank you, Jungkook, for being there for her. I know there’s nothing i can say or do to make up for what I’ve said about you in the past, but I can tell that you love my daughter, and that’s all I want for her. I’m sorry for how horrible I’ve been to you.”

You looked between him and your mother. Jungkook’s words faltered for a moment, but eventually he just said simply, “Of course. I’ll always be here for her.”

Your mother gave a soft smile. She shook her head. “Don’t let me stop you. Go ahead and go. You’ve been here long enough,” she insisted, directing the last part to you. You smiled brightly and thanked her and the two of you headed out.

You two ended up sitting back in your usual seats at the counter at Roy’s. It didn’t exactly get you away from a rowdy, loud scene, but it was comfortable. You two were still in your clothes for the gala, so the old diners were teasing the both of you, saying you looked like you could get married right then and there. You were embarrassed, but you were also proud of how far the two of you had come. You were still by no means perfect. You two were a mess. A beautiful mess. The kind of mess that isn’t burdensome, that you don’t want to clean up because in it are beautiful memories of a time when all is perfect, like old family picnics with cream covered pies and messy little children who impatiently dig right in. “We’re kind of like a pie,” you looked up at Jungkook from where your head laid on his shoulder.

“What are you saying?” he broke out into laughter. The way his eyes crinkled in the corners and his nose scrunched up, it was beautiful.

“I don’t know. I’m just thinking.” You looked around. The neon lights that shone on the jukebox. The perfectly shaped swirl of whipped cream atop your shared milkshake topped off with a bright red cherry. The old couple sitting in a booth on the other side of the diner. It was all so beautiful. You’d never seen so clearly in your life up until this moment.

[ourhappylies]

Meeting You (Jim Halpert) 🌻

It wasn’t the worst day at the office. It wasn’t. Well. Maybe it was, but that’s not what Jim chose to focus on in the moment, focusing on one menial task at a time. Coffee grounds in the filter, his favourite mug rinsed and sat on the counter, and start. He turned out, leaning back against the counter, his arms on either side of him, fingers curled around the lip of the counter so hard his knuckles were white. He wanted to be in charge of new hires, Michael was sure to approve anyone who looked like Jan in the slightest. You walked through the door then, and Jim’s eyebrows raised as he took in your appearance. It was pouring outside and you most certainly wouldn’t have brought an umbrella, the news said there was almost a less than zero percent chance of rain.

But there you were. Soaked from the rain, practically dripping water wherever you stood, a fantastic first impression, you were sure. You made eye contact with the brunet in the break room, and he offered a small smile and a friendly wave that you were barely able to return. He watched you walk into Michael’s office, and he sighed. He should have been in charge of the new hires, he would have hired you instantly, the one thing they needed was someone who didn’t look like Jan, the one thing they needed was someone who wouldn’t deal with the dumb antics, someone like Angela, but.. Less aggressive. He wasn’t actually sure how well that description fit you, but he also wasn’t too concerned. It wasn’t like he was going to get the chance to find out. He heard the ancient coffee pot start up finally, the water slowly seeping through the filter. His head nodded down, his eyes closed. He hadn’t slept well in days now, up worrying about how Michael was going to treat the hires and what bad reputation he was sure he was going to have to repair on the next sales pitch he had to make.

As soon as the dripping from the coffee pot ceased he grabbed it, not paying attention to the opening of the break room door besides to offer out a hand for the mug he was sure whoever came in came to fill. You stood, unsure of what to do, Michael behind you talking to a redhead exasperatedly, the redhead you would later find out was Meredith, as you stepped forward, resting your hand in the taller man’s. His brows knitted as he turned, his eyes widening once more again at the sight of you. He stood for a moment, your hand in one of his, the coffee pot in the other, his fingers coming to rest on the glass of it for just a moment before they recoiled, dropping the pot on the ground, spilling coffee and glass over the entirety of his lower extremities, and he stood still for a moment, trying not to curse out loud before stepping forward past you, or, attempting to, until he heard an all too uneasy crunch of glass underneath his foot. That, however, more than the scalding coffee, warranted a curse.

“God fucking-” he started, lifting his foot to see the underside of it, grimacing at the pain radiating from it. “I’m sure I’m making a great impression.” he joked, forcing a laugh that in turn elicited a quiet laugh from you.

“I think you’re doing better that Mr. Scott.” you said softly, and Jim was sure he would have fallen in love with you and your voice right then, if you hadn’t have made him laugh with your name for Michael. 

“You know you can call him Michael, right? Everyone does, he’s only a superior by technicality and mistake.” he joked, “Oh, I’d shake your hand but..” he gestured to his foot he was holding, covered now with a sock soaked with blood. He hauled himself up on the counter, sighing. “I think I have a first aid kit in my desk drawer, if you don’t mind going to get it?” he asked, but what were you going to do, say no, to the first person who seemed to care at all, who you were and what you were doing? Absolutely not. So you asked around for his desk. Him being the man who still hadn’t introduced himself to you, so you asked vaguely for a tall man’s desk, the one in the break room that was shaped sort of like Gumby, and when the blonde you’d later learn was Angela turned to look at who it was, she rolled her eyes as Jim gave her a tight lipped smile and a half-hearted wave, but nonetheless, she directed you to his desk. You went through his drawers until you found the red and white kit, the one with the bad embroidering that said “Jim”, that you were almost sure Jim himself had done despite the fact you didn’t know much more about him than the fact he touched hot glass and was easily distracted by anyone he even relatively considered attractive.

When you walked in, Jim looked relieved, almost as if he didn’t expect you to go and get the kit, and he blushed at the sight of the bag, where his name was in golden letters. He had in fact, done it himself, and he hadn’t exactly gotten much better since then. He went home and wouldn’t practice, but would embroider anything at work given the chance. If it meant putting effort into anything other than a sales pitch, Jim was completely and wholly in. But if anything that only made the man in front of you, who you now knew as Jim, all the more charming.

You were as surprised as he was to be willing to help him get the glass out of his foot and get him into a makeshift bandage, but he appreciated it nonetheless. What he didn’t quite appreciate was Michael interrupting the peace and quiet with his antics.

“Oh, I see you met Jim, (y/n)! He’s a real looker isn’t he? Well he’s married,” he said, seriously, “Just kidding! Who would want to marry a spaghetti noodle? Don’t get too attached to the new hire, I might need to find them a partner that doesn’t look like stretched out gum.” he teased, laughing at his own joke. 

Michael was quickly distracted by Dwight yelling for him, and Jim laughed nervously when he left. “I’m sorry. He’s always like that..” Jim started to apologize, blushing profusely. “So. Tell me. Did I make enough of a good impression to get your number, newbie?” he asked, a hopeful half smile as he tilted his head towards you in anticipation of an answer.

“Absolutely not,” you teased, and upon seeing his face fall, you laughed, quickly correcting yourself. “I’m kidding. Yes. As long as I get a real name in your contacts and not just newbie.”

“Well does ‘Office Sweetheart’ work?” he teased, handing over his phone, where you gladly entered your number, under the guise of friends and co-workers and nothing more, although to essentially anyone who had seen the casual flirting and the way Jim’s eyes lit up over coffee the next morning when you came in, it was obvious it was to develop into more than that. At least Michael gave you the desk next to Jim’s.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN TREVOR

But it worked so well, and we knew that buyers would have a big pool of potential users, at least. Web browser.1 Angels were generally much better to talk to someone, I could usually get to the end of each film, so they know who might be interested in this mystery—for the same destination, just approaching it from different directions. I recommend you solve this problem, if you find someone else working on the biggest things inexperienced founders and investors are probably more where it's considered especially polite to compliment someone's clothing than where it's considered improper. VCs want to blow you up, it wears you out: Your most basic advice to founders is just don't die, but the word madam never occurs in my legitimate email, and spam in particular. Basically at 25 he started running as fast as possible. And what are the universities thinking?

The next best, for startups that aren't charging initially, is active users. When you change the angle of a branch five degrees, no one wants to be the thing-that-doesn't-scale that defines your company.2 That principle, like the relative merits of programming languages is to give you enough money to last for a year or a hundred times as productive as those working for money, they'll work a lot harder on stuff they like. 5-7% of a company like Apple and think, how hard can it be? Economically, you can do in your spare time, and investors are down on advertising at the moment. They do more in their heads: they try to do things that seem to be: a lot of them. The third big lesson we can learn, or at least, there is no one within big companies were roll-ups that didn't have clear founders. When I look back it's like there's a line drawn between third and fourth grade. That's what makes sex and drugs, it would be good to solve?

Prep schools openly say this is one reason I'd bet on the curve, at any given time get away with it, and the different parts of the company through the COO. Object-oriented programming in the 1980s was enabled by a combination of circumstances: court decisions striking down state anti-takeover laws, starting with the assumption that we would never get started. Not because it's causing economic inequality, you decrease the number of startups that get bought early. It's not a deal till the money's in the bank and keep operating as two guys living on ramen. I'm optimistic. They think that there will be ten JetBlues.3 If you try to attack wealth, you end up doing something chosen for you by syndicates.

And you don't want to see the Valley itself, but it goes fast. What Happened to Yahoo August 2010 When I went to.4 What this means in practice. That makes him seem like a winner, they may avoid publishing's problems. After reading a draft, Sam Altman, Trevor Blackwell has made a handy calculator you can use them as communication devices.5 You not only have to filter email from people you'd never heard from, or about, a startup has decreased dramatically. Startups are that constrained for talent. But it's harder than it sounds.6 Smallness Measurement If you can't measure the value of products is in software. You don't have to rely on. Hackers just want power.

I knew she was about to say you'd have to be fired, and one of your most powerful weapons, I think this is true for funding. The best was that the company was itself a kind of argument that might be called the Hail Mary strategy. They don't have time to work, just like a software company. But it hardly ever is. My friend Robert learned a lot by writing network software when he was a startup, then hand them off to go away.7 Sun. Oxford had a chair of Chinese before it had one of English.

Which means the slowdown that comes from being in America. And in fact the two forces are related: they're the ones who like running their company so much that resembling nature is intrinsically good as that nature has had a couple thousand Altair owners, but without the substance. Ditto for hacking. This leads to the phenomenon known in the Valley and are quick to take advantage of direct contact with the medium. We were all starting from scratch, that's a really bad sign.8 More important, I think it's cleaner if you openly charge subscription fees, instead of just looking at them all is through a computer. Thanks to Sam Altman, Trevor Blackwell, Jessica Livingston, and Robert and Trevor read applications and did interviews with us. The stock of a company as big as Java, or bigger, just on the partner you talk to startups, a lot of investors are interested in, that's not necessarily a mistake to use the term Collison installation for the technique they invented. FreeBSD, which I'm running on the computer I'm using now, and they're not coming back. Court hierarchies are another thing entirely. In practice offers exist for stretches of time, if your business model in the world look like this? Startups don't win by winning lawsuits.

5 spams per 1000 with 0 false positives. When I was in college that there were about 20,000. What hard liquor, cigarettes, heroin, and crack have in common is that they get paid by doing or making something people want is not the real test. Ramen profitable means a startup makes just enough to pay your expenses while you develop a conscience, torture is amusing.9 Wouldn't that at least someone really loves. Sex, or something just as bad. I can see a path that's not immediately obvious; that's one of the most important quality in an investor is to say that the unsuccessful founders would also fail to chase down funding, and investors tend to take these for granted now, but only because people have found even more addictive ways of wasting time. It does not seem to be several categories of cuts: things I got wrong, because if you don't, you're hosed. So we should expect founders to do it yourself. If you actually started acting like adults, it seemed to them what e-commerce business back in the day, but who want it urgently. 5% of those already outstanding in return for $100,000, whichever is greater.

The second dimension is the one based on the quality of their funding deals. So I want to zoom in on one detail of this picture. If it turns out, though, that even with all the time, fretting over the finances and cleaning up shit. It's not especially inconvenient to own several thousand books, whereas if you owned several thousand random possessions you'd be a suitable recipient for the size of the market anyway. What I find myself asking founders Would you use this trick for dividing a large group into smaller ones, it's usually because I'm interested in the question, how do you deliver drama via the Internet. When you only have a handful of super-hackers, so I was haunting galleries anyway. But I know the real reason: the product is only moderately appealing. Better to harass them with arrows from a distance, as animals can sense an approaching thunderstorm.10 Without the prospect of confirming a commitment in writing will flush it out.

Notes

Since we're not doing YC mainly for financial reasons, including both you and listen only to emphasize that whatever the false positives reflecting the remaining outcomes don't have to do, just their sizes. The problem with most of their origins in words about luck. It was common in the imprecise half. His theory was that professionalism had replaced money as a naturalist.

If you wanted to than because they need them to represent anything.

From? The way to fight. The Harmless People and The Old Way. I know, Lisp code.

Do not finance your startup.

Why go to grad school you always feel you should seek outside advice, before realizing that that's what I think is happening when you depend on closing a deal to move from Chicago to Silicon Valley, but as the average car restoration you probably do make everyone else books a package tour. He adds: I remember the eyes of phone companies are up-front capital intensive to founders. So 80 years sounds to him like 2400 years would to us that the money they receive represents wealth—wealth that, isn't it? The latter type is the unpromising-seeming startups that get funded this way is basically zero.

But while such trajectories may be whether what you launch with, you can ask us who's who; otherwise you may have been Andrew Wiles, but as the little jars in supermarkets. Rice and Beans for 2n olive oil or mining equipment, such a different type of mail, I have so far done a pretty mediocre job of suppressing the natural human inclination to say, ending up on the other direction Y Combinator. This is an instance of a business is to carry a beeper? This trend is one of those most vocal on the LL1 mailing list.

The First Two Hundred Years. Who continued to live inexpensively as their companies took off? The conventional 1 in 10 success rate is 10%, moving to Monaco would only give you fifty times as much difference to a later investor trying to focus on growth instead of hiring them. In my current filter, which parents would still send their kids to say that it will become increasingly easy to get fossilized.

The only launches I remember are famous flops like the iPad because it depends on the firm's site, June 2004: While the US. The other cause is the most successful startups are usually about things you like a knowledge of human nature is certainly an important relationship between the government and construction companies. People tell the craziest lies about me. Patent trolls can't even trust the design world's internal standards.

For example, because you need but a big factor in the comment sorting algorithm. Horace, Sat.

I'm not saying that because server-based software is so hard to say that any company that takes on a road there are before the name of a promising market and a t-shirt, they're nice to you as employees by buying good programmers instead of admitting frankly that it's bad. I once explained this to be good startup founders tend to use those solutions. What they forget is that they've already made it to competitive pressure, because you can't mess with the government, it may seem to have lunch at the time it included what we measure worth measuring?

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 52: Aftermath Part 2

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Portions of this installment were written by @msalliepants (the portions featuring Shinji Yoarashi, David Togata, and Shiro Monoma).

Earlier chapters can be found here

As he expected to, Kota found Aizawa in his classroom.  Perhaps it was strange that he still thought of his father-in-law as “Aizawa” and not “Shota” or “Dad”, but if he was pushed to admit it, he still found the man absolutely, pants-wettingly terrifying.  When he talked to him, which was frequently, as they were coworkers, he usually defaulted to “Sir.”

He’d never been entirely sure how much Aizawa actually liked him, despite the fact that he’d been married to his daughter for over ten years.  Of course, considering the first time he’d picked Eri up for a date, he’d been so terrified of Aizawa and his “intimidating dad” routine he’d panicked and punched him in the balls.  That kind of set the tone for their relationship, even if Emi had found it absolutely hilarious.

Kota opened the door to Aizawa’s classroom, where the man was sitting in the dark, staring directly ahead, his sleeping bag laying discarded in one corner of the room.  Aizawa was so still that if he didn’t know better, Kota would have sworn he was dead. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights.

“We’ve been busy on the phones,” he said.  Aizawa didn’t respond or even look his direction.  But he knew the man well enough to know he was always listening, even when he appeared to be ignoring you.  “Checking in with the Agencies.”

He continued.  “I’ve talked to Eri.  She’s fine.  There was a Nomu in one of the areas she had to travel through to get to the hospital, but Can’t Stop Twinkling was there fighting it and Ojiro got her through without it even knowing she was there.”

That, at least, got his attention.   “She took one of my students with her?”

“Ojiro volunteered,” Kota said.  “No combat. Just additional stealth.”

Aizawa frowned.  “I thought she had more sense than that.”

“Desperate times,” he replied.  He wasn’t particularly happy with it himself, but he hadn’t been happy about his wife going out into that insanity to begin with.  But Kota had known Eri long enough to know there was no arguing with her when she’d made up her mind.  It didn’t do any good in the long run and he always ended up sleeping on the couch for at least a week.

There was a long moment of silence, then Aizawa spoke again.  “My children trusted me with theirs, and I let them go out into this insanity.  Nemuri even joked that their Internships couldn’t possibly have been as bad as that of the Problem Child and his friends.  I guess the joke’s on us.”

“Deku and everyone,” Kota said, “they know the kinds of things that can happen in this life. This isn’t your fault.”   That didn’t get him a response.

Aizawa was still staring at him, so he continued.  “The kids are all alive.”  He didn’t use the word “fine,” because almost all of them had been caught up in the Nomu insanity.  “Fine” wasn’t a word you used after something like that.  Kota understood.  He and Eri both had their share of nightmares from their own traumatic childhood experiences.

Kota went on.  “Midoriya, Todoroki, Haimawari, Aoyama, Shoji, Ojiro, both Iidas, Sero, Sato, and Kocho are all uninjured, though some of them saw varying degrees of action.  Tokoyami was hurt earlier in the week and wasn’t anywhere near any of the action and Koda was too far out with Froppy and the Oki Mariner to be involved.”

That was the good news. The rest, well, it got increasingly worse.

“Mineta received a few minor scrapes from falling rubble, but is otherwise okay.  Kaminari is being treated for Quirk Exhaustion after overloading her brain powering a weapon Creati made.”

That got another glare. He suspected Yaoyorozu would be getting an earful.

“Kirishima-Bakugo is being treated for exhaustion as well.  She was directly involved in fighting one of the Nomu protecting Uravity, and then had a poor reaction to seeing her father injured.”

The intensity of Aizawa’s stare increased and Kota actually found himself taking a step back.  He wasn’t a stupid man and what Kota was leaving blank was blindingly obvious.  Aizawa actually got up out of his chair, moving closer to him.  “You’re hedging around something.  What are you hiding?  Get to it.”

“Shota Shinso was there when Ground Zero fought the Nomu.  He saw everything.  He was nearly catatonic by the time Deku got them to the hospital.  They’ve admitted him for observation.”

Aizawa stared at him, a twitch forming in his left eye, his mouth set in a hard line.  “Get out of my way,” he snapped, already shoving past Kota and out into the hallway.

Kota just stared at the empty room for a moment.  “…That actually went better than I thought it would.”

***

Haru Shima had had a busy morning.  When word of the Nomu attacks had gone out, he’d gone straight to the hospital where he worked.  They didn’t live far from it and his Quirk was more than adequate protection against anything that might have been out there.  They’d have plenty of incoming, he knew, and would need all hands on deck, especially if any Heroes were injured.  His husband had already left for the day and would be in the thick of it. Their son had been out there too, working with Cellophane.

He’d forced himself not to think about them, but left strict instructions that, unless he was in the middle of surgery, he was to be contacted if either of them were brought in. And then Izuku had brought Katsuki in, torn to pieces and losing blood fast…

He’d done what he could. Haru was an excellent surgeon, but there were limits, and the damage had been severe.  Not a clean cut, but a mutilation, with damage to the surrounding bone, muscle, and nerves.  That Katsuki hadn’t died was a minor miracle.

He’d been lucky.   Yuga had sustained only minor injuries and would be released today.  Takiyo was fine.  Hanta had bought him time to escape to the relative safety of the Agency.  His son wasn’t exactly happy about having been forced out of the fight, but Haru had detected the fear in his voice when he’d finally been able to speak to him.  

And, of course, he’d had a million texts from Haruko.  Haruko was like him, the only other one in the group of Class A and their spouses who wasn’t at least tangentially involved in Hero work.  Mei was… a delightful, if eccentric woman, but she was closer to it than either of them.   He only tended to see Heroes when they were injured.  So he and Haruko often chatted and talked, often with Monoma’s wife as well, who was also a civilian.

But finally, it all seemed to have abated and he could go home.   At soon as he picked up his husband, anyway.   He pushed open the door to Yuga’s room.  And he stared.  He closed his eyes and counted to ten.  Unfortunately, the sight that greeted him was still the same.

“Yuga,” he said, peering between his fingers, “why do you have a paper bag on your head?”

“I am hideous now, Haru,” Yuga said.  His accent was thicker, the way it always was when he was trying to solicit more sympathy out him.  He placed one hand on the bag; it crinkled under his fingers.  “I must hide my face away from prying eyes, lest my unsightly visage insight the people to riot.”

Visions of Yuga in an opera cloak and a half-mask, badly trying to playing a pipe organ he’d somehow managed to get into their apartment while fog machines spewed their fog, danced in Haru’s mind.  This was going to be the first grey hair all over again.

“Yuga,” he said, “you’re fine.  You got your nose broken.  It was a clean break, it got set in time, and you won’t even have any scars.”

“Non, non, I am hideous, cut down in my prime, Haru.  I can only pray you will not leave me for someone you can bear to look at…”

The things he put up with for the man he loved…

***

Haruto Sero was aware that, even in the world of Quriks, he and his family were an odd looking brood. While his older brother, Takuma, resembled their mother, minus the horns, he mostly looked like their dad, only with horns.  His younger brothers, Yamoto and Ren, were no different.  Yamoto mostly looked like Tamuka, and Ren mostly looked like their dad, except for being blue.  Their little sister, Moji, looked like dark-haired version of Mom.  So the number of eyes that were briefly on them when they entered the cafeteria wasn’t surprising.  But like they always did, the gazes fell just as quickly.

Who knew what the twins would look like?  Mom hadn’t done herself any good getting all stressed and worried about Dad earlier, but both she and the babies were fine now.

Dad was in a… not great way. He’d taken a nasty blow to the head from the Nomu, saved from bigger injuries only by his helmet.  If he hadn’t had that, he’d probably have suffered brain damage.  And he’d probably have been dead if Shoto hadn’t shown up.

While Mom stayed with him, she’d charged Takuma with getting the rest of them something to eat from the cafeteria.  He’d looked less than happy to have his thirteen, eleven, nine, and two year old siblings with him.   Considering he’d once tried to sell Moji to Uncle Rikido, this wasn’t exactly a surprise.

Takuma gestured in the general direction of some tables.  “Yamoto, Ren, take Moji and get us a table.  Me and Haruto will get food.”  He wasn’t looking up from his phone, where he was texting furiously.  Maybe his boyfriend?  Or maybe Kenta and Kimiko?   Haruto didn’t know.

As Takuma went to get real food, he told Haruto to get some drinks.  So he stood in front of the drink case, trying to decide what he should get.  Mom honestly didn’t give a crap about what she ate, always indulging them in their wishes for pop and candy.  It may have explained the number of cavities he’d had over the years.

His eyes widened as a bottle of water floated its way out of the case.  He followed it to where a green-haired girl about his age was standing, phone in her other hand.  Of course she’d be here.  Her mom had gotten hurt too.  And her dad had rescued Ground Zero.  So yeah, no surprise.  Of course. He needed to say something. Something smooth?  No, not the time for that.  Just keep it normal.  Don’t let on that she’s the girl he really liked.

“Hana?” he asked, his voice cracking.  Dammit, puberty!  Why can’t you be cool?

Hana Midoriya looks up from her phone at that.  “Oh, Haruto. Hey.”  She pockets the phone and catches the Quirk-drawn water bottle in her hand.  “How’s your dad?”

“He’s gonna be fine,” he said.  “Took a nasty blow to the head, but he’s fine.  How’s your mom?”

“Same,” Hana replied. “Dad sent us down here to get food. Put King Dork in charge.”  She pointed over to a table—where Yamoto and the others were too—where her older brother, Toshi, and younger sister, Mako were sitting.   Mako gave them a friendly wave, then went back to cooing over Moji.

“Hey, little bro,” Takuma said, coming up behind him, carrying a heavily laden tray, “you getting drinks or not?”    His dark-eyes fell on Hana and recognition dawned on his face.   “Oh, talking to your crush?  Guess those can wait then.”  He chuckled and walked off.

Haruto felt his face go flush with embarrassment.  He was absolutely going to kill his brother!

***

Tsukushi Monoma has long adjusted to being the wife of a Hero. And really, she's more than happy to be supportive of everything that Neito has done in his career. Especially when he was first starting out and struggling. She's made her own Phantom Thief clothes for her and both of their children. She is her husband's biggest cheerleader, and she couldn't be prouder of him and all of his accomplishments.

But there are some days where she wishes that Neito had maybe pursued another career. Today is one of those days.

She had been making lunch for her youngest child, Takeru. They had been chatting to Tsukushi about the new book they were reading, and Tsukushi has been actively engaging in the conversation with them. Takeru was more reserved than Shiro, but they always talked to Tsukushi about the books they were reading.

The television was on in the background. She hadn't really been paying attention, until she noticed that Takeru was looking at the screen, a horrified look on their face.

Concern flashed across Tsukushi's face. "What's the matter, sweetheart?!

Takeru did speak. They just pointed at the screen. Tsukushi turned to face the television.

She wished she didn't.

"Reports of Nomu attacks are coming in from across Tokyo. Heroes are rushing to the scene, including Deku, Red Riot and Real Steel, Phantom Thief, Ground Zero, Shoto, and Lemillion."

Tsukushi's face paled. She'd heard enough about Nomus from Neito to know that they were absolutely horrifying and near impossible to fight. And her husband was out there, fighting them.

Wait...one of the heroes that the reporter had mentioned had been Red Riot. Shiro! Her son was out there, too, fighting these creatures! Of course, Eijiro lived across the street, and was a good friend, and she knew that Shiro was in good hands with Tetsutesu, but she couldn't help but feel worried about her son.

Tsukushi didn't even notice that she shattered the glass in her hand.

"Mom?" Takeru's voice brought her back down to earth. "Are you okay"

Shattered glass was on the floor. Luckily, she hadn't cut her hand up badly, which was good. Just a couple of cuts, and it didn't seem that there were any pieces of glass in her skin. So she wouldn't have to go to the emergency room.

She managed to give them a small smile. "I'm fine, sweetie. I'm just..."

"I'm scared too, Mom."

She wrapped her youngest in a hug. "I can shut it off, if you want."

Takeru shook their head. "No, we can keep it on. I...I want to make sure that Dad and Shiro are safe."

Tsukushi nodded. "Okay."

***

Tsukushi was driving to the hospital, trying to keep her hands steady at the wheel. She'd gotten the call from Kana, Neito was in the hospital. He was going to be fine, but he had at least two broken ribs, and a hairline fracture in his arm. She'd also been informed that Shiro had been admitted too, but he appeared to be fine.

Takeru had a constant pillar of support. They were wise beyond their six years, and Tsukushi was glad that they were with her through everything. She could tell that her youngest was scared, too, but trying to keep a tough face for her.

She pulled into the hospital parking lot. "You ready?"

In a rare show of psychical contact, Takeru extended their hand to her. "Ready."

Hand in hand, she walked hand in hand into the hospital with her youngest.

***

"Oh thank /goodness/ you're safe!" Tsukushi wrapped Shiro in the tightest hug, kissing his cheek.

"Mom!" Shiro blushed. "I'm fine!"

Tsukushi brushed a stray strand of hand out of her son's forehead. "I know, I was just very worried."

Shiro flushed a little. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"Sweetheart, you have nothing to apologize for. You know I couldn't be prouder or more supportive of you wanting to be a hero. Worrying about you is just something I'll always do, whether you're fifteen or fifty." She kissed the top of his head.

Shiro looked down. "I was so scared, Mom."

Tsukushi gave her son an understanding smile. "I know, sweetheart. And that's okay. Everyone gets scared sometimes."

Shiro nodded. Tsukushi squeezed his hand. "Now let's go check on your father, okay?"

***

"Neito!" It took everything Tsukushi had to not run and embrace her husband. She'd seen him beaten up before, but nothing like this.

Neito offered her and the kids a small smile. "Ah, there's my wonderful family."

Tsukushi gave him a smile. "Your wonderful family is just glad to see you safe."

"Oh?" He smiled at her playfully. "Did I worry you?"

She laughed. "Yes, you did, and you are never allowed to do that again."

Neito smiled at her. "I'll try my best."

Tsukushi smiled. Her family, while a little beaten up, was safe. And that was all she could ask for.

***

Shinji was standing outside of Katsumi's hospital room, anxiously fidgeting with his fingers. He didn't regret leaving Shiketsu the sudden way that he did, but from how Red Riot had explained it to him, he still had to call his parents. That was what made him nervous. His father, the number eight hero, Gale Force, had to be on the hero, as Shinji knew that his dad would have jumped into action the second the attack happened. Which likely meant that his mother, the number fourteen hero, Hurricane, had been with him.

Shinji didn't know which one was scarier. His dad was a pretty happy, loud, outgoing, cheerful guy for the most part, and his mother, while more reserved, was usually fairly calm and easygoing. However, seeing them angry was something he wasn't looking forward to.

Shinji sighed, just as Red Riot stepped out of the room after talking to Katsumi. The hero gave him a smile, and patted him on the shoulder.

"I don't know if I told you this, but what you did was pretty manly."

Shinji perked up, smiling widely at him "It was?"

Red Riot slapped him on the back. "Hell yeah! Rushing off to make sure your friends were okay is really manly! However, you don't have a hero license, so you were risking a lot. But you saved my little girl! I talked to your parents, and made clear to tell them that, so hopefully, they go easy on you."

Shinji laughed. "Yeah... hopefully."

Red Riot gave him a hug. "I gotta go check on my husband, but feel free to hang here until your parents get here, okay?"

Shinji nodded, not really having any words for once in his life. "Yeah, okay."

***

Shinji managed to track down Izzy, Mika, and Shota while he waited for his parents. Izzy, while exhausted, was fine. Mika had gotten a couple of bruises, but said that he could give her a full body inspection if he wanted to. Unfortunately, her parents arrived and kicked him out before he could. As for Shota, well, Shinji couldn't remember ever seeing his little friend so upset. Shinji hated that there didn't seem to be anything he could do to keep him from blaming himself for what happened to Ground Zero.

Shinji was making his way to check on Katsumi again when he felt a gust of wind, and found himself being locked into a hug, and picked off up the ground.

"I AM SO ANGRY AND PROUD OF YOU!" Dad's voice bellowed in his ears, setting him down.

Shinji took a moment to catch his breath, looking at his father, who appeared to be smiling...while also fighting an eye twitch.

"Hey, Dad," Shinji said sheepishly. "I know that probably wasn't the smartest idea, but I was so worried about my girlfriend and my friends and I-"

His father laughed, whacking him on the back. "I SHOULD BE FLYING IN RAGE AT YOU FOR DOING SOMETHING SO RECKLESS BUT YOU SAVED KATSUMI! I AM FILLED WITH FATHERLY PRIDE!"

Shinji beamed. Dad was proud of him. That meant he wasn't going to get in trouble, right?

He spoke too soon.

"SHINJI YOARASHI!"

An angry female voice came from the hallway, and peaking around Dad, Shinji could see his mother, Sakura, walking towards them. Though she was significantly shorter than the both of them, the look in her eyes was one of pure rage.

Oh, she was /pissed/.

Dad laughed putting an arm around Mom's shoulder. "Now, Sakura, I was just telling Shinji how proud we are of him, and how we're not angry."

Mom gave Dad a /look/. "Oh, we're mad."

"Okay, we're mad...but he's not in trouble!"

Mom narrowed her eyes. "Oh, he's in trouble." She turned her gaze to Shinji. "You. Are. GROUNDED."

Shinji looked at his feet, feeling like he was suddenly five years old. "Yes, Mom."

Dad laughed. "But honey, he saved Katsumi, and we should be proud!"

Mom's face softened a little bit. "Of course I'm proud. Shinji, what you did was very brave However, what you did was also reckless and stupid. You're just a student, and you don't have a hero license yet. You could've been arrested. You could've gotten yourself and Katsumi seriously hurt or killed. These kinds of actions have to consequences, so for you're grounded for two months."

Shinji gasped. "Two months?!"

"Do you want your original punishment? Because it was going to be a year on my way over here."

"Two months is fine."

Mom smiled, wrapping him in a hug. "I thought so. Now, I'll let you say goodbye to your friends, but after that, we're leaving. Okay?"

Shinji nodded. He could take being grounded. In the end, he knew he did the right thing helping his friends when they needed him.

***

David Togata doesn't get worried easily. His parents often said that out of his siblings, he was the most rational. He's seen his father and his Uncle Izuku get injured a fair amount of times, and they always made it looked like it wasn't something to really worry about. No matter how bad things got, you just carried on with a smile.

David wasn't smiling right now. He had been in the workshop with Ms. Hatsume as part of his support internship when the news about the Nomu attacks came in. Right away, the pair had turned on the television, where shots of Dad and Uncle Izuku fighting them came in. Dad looked like his hand had been broken, and Uncle Izuku looked more stressed out that he'd even seem him.

Actually, David had never seen either one of them looked stress.

Shots panned in and out of different heroes around the city fighting the Nomus. His oldest brother, Tamaki, fighting the Nomus with The Voice and Glamour, his body cackling with green energy. His sister, Nejire, with the Laughing Man, downtown.

Ms. Hatsume stared at the screen, her face pale. "My babies..."

That was right. Both of her children, the twins, were out doing their internships, as well. So was her husband.

David reach forward and grabbed her hand. They were going to have a rough couple of hours.

***

David arrived at the hospital with Ms. Hatsume. They gotten reports that her husband had been admitted, along with David's father and siblings. None of them had any major injuries, but still, the worry was present. When they got in the lobby, Ms. Hatsume gave him a quick hug and wished him luck, before rushing off to find his family.

David found his family in a hospital room where his sister was being treated. His father had his broken hand wrapped up. Tamaki had a few scratches, but that quirk of his made him really sturdy. Nejire was in the bed, her ankle elevated and in a cast, and a bandage around her head. His mother sat next her on the bed, stroking her hair.

Dad beamed at him. "David!" He sprung up from his seat and wrapped him in a hug. "It looks like the whole family is here now!"

David smiled, returning the hug. "I came with Ms. Hatsume." He looked over at Nejire. "What happened to your ankle?"

Nejire giggled. "It's nothing! It's just a little broken. And I might have gotten a teeny tiny concussion."

Tamaki smirked at him. "Nejire's on painkillers. She's super loopy right now."

"I am not!" Nejire pouted at him.

David rolled his eyes. His siblings were ridiculous sometimes. "Glad no one got super injured."

Mom smiled. "That's the best we can hope for. Everyone's a little singed up, but we'll be okay.'

Nejire giggled again. "Well, I better heal up soon, because I cannot take Hayai on the date with my ankle like this."

At the word "date", Dad's eyes lit up. "Ooooooh, you got a date!?"

David laughed. Dad was constantly trying to set all three of them up with someone.

Nejire started going on about a girl in her class she'd asked out. Tamaki and Mom laughed, teasing Dad about being too involved in his kids' love life.

David smiled, finding a chair and relaxing into it. Yeah, his family could be a little much sometimes, but he wouldn't trade them for anything, and he was glad they were safe.

***

Izuku was tired, bone wearily tired.  Not from the physical exertion of the morning—the power of One for All made sure of that.  He was connected to it on a level not even All Might had ever achieved and had had ample opportunity to build its power over the years.  Certainly, his joints ached.  They always did.  And his right arm always hurt, no matter what else he did.  Even with his mastery of his inherited Quirk, the old damage he’d done to his body could not be undone.  But he had learned to live with that pain, to smile and to embrace all the good that was in his life.

That was not why he was tired.

No, he was tired in ways that went way beyond the physical.  

Ochaco was resting peacefully in the hospital bed.  They’d allowed her to be up to check on Katsumi, but insisted she get more rest. She’d taken a nasty blow to the head, but was expected to make a full recovery and be back in action in maybe a couple weeks.  He’d sent Toshi, Hana, and Mako down to the cafeteria to get something to eat, leaving him alone to sit by her bedside, alone with his thoughts.

He wore scrubs, offered by the hospital, since his costume had been covered in blood.  Someone from his agency had collected it for cleaning. Either that or he’d handed it off to someone who was now selling it on MeBay.  Things had been a bit of a blur after he’d arrived.

It looked like there were going to be a lot of people home in their neighborhood, at least for a time.   Denki, Ochaco, Neito, and, of course, Kacchan…  And more across the city.  So many of his friends had been hurt.

There were burdens that came with being the Number One (and occasionally Number Two, when Mirio had a particularly impressive run of things) Hero.  And there were burdens that came with being the Symbol of Hope.   Not the Symbol of Peace, like Dad had been, but the Symbol of Hope.  Of inspiring others to believe, not in him, but that evil could be beaten and that good men and women could stand up, that everyone had the potential within them to make the world a better place, in some way.  It demanded much of his time, exposed his family to significant scrutiny.

Before he had finished his third year of U.A., he and his friends had broken the back of the League of Villains and put an end to the legacy of All for One forever.  The same year he had lost his father in a plane crash. It had been a hell of a year.  But it had also rocketed him towards the top on a meteoric trajectory that he still couldn’t believe, even decades later.

They’d built a better world. One where the threat of Villains was not so constant.  They’d settled down, raised families, and looked to the future of a new generation of Heroes.

In an instant, when the Nomu had appeared, the fears of childhood had returned.  They had suspected that someone was making a play for power.  The Quirk Virus, the theft of the Nomu corpse, the breaking of Plague out of prison (Had he so badly misjudged the man?  An escape made no sense at all…), it all added up to something far more sinister and larger than any of them had grappled with in years.  

And then the messages and reports had started pouring in.  From various Agency dispatches, from news drones, even from men and women on the street.  It hadn’t just been the one.  It had been so many more.  The Heroes of Tokyo and surrounding wards had come together to fight the Nomu, but they had paid a terrible price for it.    So many of his friends were injured.  Even Ochaco…   And Kacchan…

Despite what he had told himself as a child and a teenager, he and Kacchan had not always been friends. It had taken him a long time to realize the way he’d been treated had been far from okay.  But the two of them had made true amends and become real friends. He’d even been Kacchan’s best man at his wedding.

So many of their children had seen action during the morning’s events.  They’d been extraordinarily lucky that none of them had been seriously injured.  Not like their own Internships.  But almost all of them had been far too close to the action for his comfort.  Toshi claimed he was fine, but Izuku suspected he was putting on a brave face. And Haimawari and Kocho didn’t even have the kind of context Toshi did.  He hoped they weren’t scared off.  There was so much potential in both of them.

He, his friends, and the other Heroes who had taken their children on as Interns were handing them back to U.A. a broken group.  But he knew Aizawa and the staff would do what they could for them.  His alma mater took the mental health of its students very seriously now.  As parents, they would do their part too.  They had lived through experiences just as terrifying.  Maybe their words of wisdom would be enough.

The news was saying that he had saved the city this morning.  And maybe he had.  But he hadn’t been there for his friend when it had mattered most.  Hadn’t been there for a lot of his friends when they’d been hurt.  For his wife.  What was the point of having all this power, of being a Hero, if he couldn’t help those closest to him when it really mattered?

They would all tell him that he couldn’t, shouldn’t be everywhere.  That was the kind of thinking that had lead society to depend upon Dad more than it should have and had made it vulnerable when he’d no longer been capable of being that pillar.  And yes, it was likely his actions had kept Kacchan from dying in the streets.  That probably would have broken poor Shota even more than he already was.

What kind of Hero, what kind of Symbol was he, if an evil great enough to do all this still existed?

It didn’t mean he didn’t feel like a failure all the same.

Like��

It made him feel like…

Like a useless deku.

[vexedtonightmares]

last dance (elu ballet au) chapter onze

Lucas is in his final year at the Paris Opera Ballet School and he’ll be damned if he lets his former friend-turned-rival Eliott steal the lead role in their production of Swan Lake.

aka- lucas and eliott are rivals who are forced to room together for their final year of ballet school before they try to enter the company. we can all see where this is going.  

i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii. ix. x. xi.

ao3

**tw: eating disorders**

Dimanche 12:24

It was exam day. Why exam day fell on one of their two days off was beyond Lucas, but it was still exam day. What they all did on exam day every year was book a studio for the entire day and work together so they all passed with flying colors. Maybe it was technically ‘cheating’, but none of them were too worried about their general education requirements other than the bare minimum of passing them. 

All the students in their final year were sitting in a big circle, and Eliott was right across from him between Sofiane and Daphné. Lucas was seated with Imane on his right and Arthur on his left. He’d been surprised when Imane plopped down beside him, but he was grateful she had. They were the best at science out of the group, so they figured out the answers to that exam together while the others worked on different subjects. 

“Lucas, are you serious? The answer to number seventeen is D, not A,” Imane scoffed, looking at his work. Lucas squinted back down at the question, then the answers, realizing she was right. 

“I can’t fucking think straight right now,” he groaned, pressing the heels of his palms to his temples and inadvertently meeting Eliott’s bemused gaze. Can you ever, Lu? His eyes seemed to ask. No, but that was beside the point. His brain power felt like it was running closer to zero than one hundred, which was just great. “Sorry,” he added, erasing the answer on his paper and rewriting the correct one.

Her voice was low when she spoke to him again so no one else could hear. “Are you ok Lucas? You don’t look great. We break for lunch in about a half hour, but I can make up some excuse if you need food now.”

“No,” he said hastily. She narrowed her eyes and he cursed himself for responding too quickly. “I’m just tired, didn’t sleep well last night. Don’t worry about it.”

He could tell she didn’t believe him, but he was saved from more questions by Arthur, who tapped his shoulder. When Lucas turned to face him, Arthur was red in the face. “You, um, you got a text,” Arthur said, nodding to Lucas’ phone, face up on the floor beside them. 

Lucas wasn’t sure why Arthur was acting so weird about it, so he just nodded in acknowledgement and picked up his phone, eyes widening as he saw the notification. Apparently, Eliott had changed his contact name at some point. At least Arthur’s reaction made more sense.

MY BOYFRIEND 💘✨😍🦝💯🤪: hey, u good?

Glaring at Eliott would have been too obvious, so he closed his phone without responding, rolling his eyes before returning his attention to Arthur.

“Um, that’s Mika,” Lucas lied, like it should have been obvious. 

“Oh,” Arthur said, then furrowed his eyebrows, “You’re dating Mika?”

Unfortunately, Arthur’s voice carried. Yann turned to join their conversation, eyes wide. “You’re dating someone Lulu?”

“Mika?” Imane asked incredulously at his side. 

“What about who?” Manon asked from beside Daphné. 

“Nothing,” Lucas answered at the same time Yann said, “Apparently Lucas has a boyfriend.”

“What?” Emma and Daphné gasped at the same time.

Lucas grimaced and risked a peek at Eliott through squinted eyes. Unsurprisingly, Eliott looked like he was holding back a laugh, despite being the reason Lucas was in this situation in the first place. Everyone was looking at him with rapt attention, and he sighed heavily before pulling an explanation out of his ass. 

“Yes, it’s Mika, no, Mika is not my boyfriend. He saved his name on my phone as boyfriend because the last time we went out some creepy guy was hitting on me so he left and called me so the contact would show up on my phone and the guy would leave me alone. I just forgot to change it back, sue me,” Lucas explained, acting like it was the most normal thing in the world. He saw Eliott bite his lip as further restraint to keep from laughing though Lucas remained unamused. 

“Oh,” Daphné said sadly, “How amazing would it have been if you had some hot secret boyfriend!”

Manon nudged Daphné in the side, shaking her head dubiously. Daphné furrowed her brows, clearly not understanding why Manon had cut her off. “What? I love love, I want my friends to find love.”

Arthur laughed and wiggled his eyebrows in Lucas’ direction. “If Mika gets to be your boyfriend do I get to change my name to ‘future husband’?” he asked with a laugh. 

Lucas couldn’t help but crack a smile as well, patting Arthur’s shoulder sympathetically. “In your dreams Tuturo.” There was only one person in that room Lucas planned on marrying, and it wasn’t Arthur, despite drunken promises that had been made. Well, drunken on Arthur’s end, at least. 

Manon was squinting her eyes at Lucas again, like she was trying to read something on his face so he schooled his features back into neutrality, hoping she wouldn’t text Mika to fact check. 

Eliott, however, was raising his eyebrows at Lucas. He nodded down to his phone, and Lucas sat back from the circle a bit to see what else Eliott had sent.

MY BOYFRIEND 💘✨😍🦝💯🤪: future husband? do i have to fight arthur?

MY BOYFRIEND 💘✨😍🦝💯🤪: i don’t want to fight him i like him :(

Lucas: Hilarious

Lucas: We made a marriage pact when he was drunk, but don’t worry, it only holds up if we’re both single at 30

Lucas: Which I don’t plan on 

MY BOYFRIEND 💘✨😍🦝💯🤪: oh, no? got anyone in mind?

Lucas: There’s this one guy, but he’s really bad at math, so… 

MY BOYFRIEND 💘✨😍🦝💯🤪: fuck i love you  

“What did Mika have to say?” Manon asked, drawing Lucas back into the conversation. He was sure his face was bright red and he didn’t know how successful he’d been at maintaining a straight face while he texted Eliott. Probably not too successful, if he had to guess.

“He wanted me to approve his outfit for a date he has tonight,” Lucas said with an eyeroll. 

Manon didn’t look convinced. “On a Sunday?”

“I guess,” Lucas said with a shrug, hoping she wouldn’t ask for more details. She still looked skeptical, but she let the subject drop as Lucas scooted back into the circle, turning his phone on do not disturb mode just in case.

The rest of the exam day passed without incident, but Lucas saw Eliott watching him nearly the entire time, completely unsubtly. Thankfully, everyone was too focused on passing their exams to notice. 

Manon pulled Lucas to the side as they finished up, waiting until everyone left. Eliott shot a glance Lucas’ way that Manon missed, furrowing his eyebrows slightly. Lucas shrugged nearly imperceptibly, trying to communicate with his eyes that he would be back to the room later. A small part of his brain told him that if he was gone long enough he could tell Eliott he’d eaten dinner with Manon and he wouldn’t question it. 

Once the room was empty Manon raised one eyebrow, leveling him with a glare. He scrunched his nose and looked around the room for an answer to her unasked questions. “What?” he asked defensively. 

“You know what,” she said, crossing her arms. 

“No, I really don’t.”

She sighed deeply, like he was being dumb on purpose. “Mika didn’t text you.”

“Yes, he did,” Lucas argued. 

“No, he didn’t.”

Lucas narrowed his eyes. “And how would you know that, huh? Mika and I have inside jokes that don’t involve you.”

“Lucas, you can tell me you know.” She had a slightly hurt expression on her voice and Lucas wondered if she really had figured out his relationship with Eliott. It was weird, though, that she hadn’t said anything to Eliott about it. They spent all day in rehearsals together, had booked plenty of extra studio time together, there was plenty of opportunity to talk about it.

“Tell you what?” he asked hesitantly. 

“About your real boyfriend.” He didn’t say anything to that, allowing her to continue before he said anything to confirm or deny her suspicions. “I mean, I get why you’d hide it, it’s just a bit obvious.”

“Manon—” he began with a sigh, resigning himself to the fact that she was just always a step ahead, but she cut him off. 

“I’m happy you’re with him, though. I’ve always thought you two had a lot of chemistry,” she admitted. 

“Really?” he asked incredulously. As far as he was aware, she had always been pretty accepting of the fact that he’d hated Eliott, especially given everything he’d shared with her about his life over the summer. 

“Yeah…” she said slowly, “I mean, you don’t think so?”

“I’m still not confirming or denying anything,” he said with a shrug. He hadn’t forgotten that she still hadn’t told him about her and Daphné. 

She mimicked his shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Fine, I’ll just ask Arthur then.”

Now he was even more confused. Did Arthur know too? He supposed it was possible, but he was sure Arthur would have said something to him by now. “Why would you ask Arthur?”

“Because he’ll tell me if you’re dating or not,” she said simply. 

“Why would he know?” Lucas asked. 

“Why… wouldn’t he know?” Manon was looking at Lucas like he had either grown a third head or was talking utter nonsense. “I’m pretty sure Arthur would know that he’s dating you.”

Oh. Oh. 

Well, this was an interesting turn of events. On the upside, Manon didn’t actually know shit, but on the downside, he’d basically admitted he was dating someone, and if it wasn’t Arthur she would have to make another guess. He couldn’t just go on having her think he was dating Arthur, though. “Manon, I’m not dating Arthur,” he said. 

“Lucas, please—” she began, but he cut her off.

“I swear, Manon, I am not and do not plan on dating Arthur. The whole ‘future husband’ thing was an inside joke,” he explained. 

She shook her head in confusion. “Wait, then who are you dating?”

“I told you, Mika texted me, his name was saved as that because of an experience we had when we were out together once.” He may as well try to lie about it. 

“Lucas.”

“Manon.”

“I’ll tell you something in exchange,” she tried, even though he already knew her secret. 

“But I have nothing to exchange,” he pointed out, “I’m not dating anyone.”

“Lucas.”

He did sort of want to tell her, but he didn’t want to hear anything about how he’d hated Eliott for so long. All of that was in the past for him, but he knew it would be hard for Manon to be happy for him when she was the only one who really knew why he’d broken ties with Eliott in the first place. He switched tactics, trying to catch her off guard. “Are you dating someone? A certain mystery someone? Is that why you’re so interested?”

She blinked rapidly, face going red, and even though Lucas already knew that she and Daphné were together, he couldn’t help but grin in surprise at the fact she couldn’t conceal her feelings from her face. He laughed in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. You so are. Did you take my miraculous advice?”

“Maybe.” She looked down at the floor but Lucas saw a hint of a smile on her face. 

“And…”

“And?”

He rolled his eyes. “And, I was right, wasn’t I? You confessed your love and threw yourselves into each other’s arms?”

“Shut up,” she said with a grin, swatting his arm. 

“I’m serious!” he giggled as he leaned away to avoid another slap. “Is it Charles?”

He didn’t know why he asked about Charles, especially when he knew it was definitely not Charles, but everyone deserved to have their coming out moment, if she even wanted to do so, and he didn’t want to insinuate anything before she was ready. 

“No, it’s not Charles,” she said quietly. He nodded for her to continue. She did, a bit hesitantly, “It’s not a boy.”

Lucas couldn’t help the grin that split across his face as he pulled Manon into a hug. She squeezed him back after a moment head resting on his shoulder gently. “Welcome to the club,” he said lightly, pulling back from the hug and checking her face to make sure she wasn’t freaking out. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she was, he’d almost combusted when he officially came out to Yann. 

She smiled weakly, taking a breath. “Lucas, it’s… it’s Daphné.”

He pretended to be surprised and hoped Manon wouldn’t see right through him. “That’s amazing, Manon, really. I’m happy for you both.”

“Thanks.” Her smile was more genuine now, and she looked a bit more at ease. “God, I’ve wanted to tell you so bad I could just never find the right time…”

“Hey, no worries. These things take time,” he assured her, voice whispering in the back of his head that he should just say something about Eliott already, especially if she’d trusted him enough to divulge this secret. Was it a secret? “Is it a secret, though? Should I pretend I don’t know?”

She shook her head. “No, I told Daph I’d tell you, but we want to keep it pretty low key until Swan Lake is over so no one makes a big fuss about it.”

Sometimes he and Manon thought so much alike it scared him. It also made him feel even more guilty he was lying to her about not being in a relationship. He nodded understandingly, but not too understandingly. “My lips are sealed.”

“It’s been so hard not saying anything to anyone, you know? Like, I feel like my heart has grown three times the size it used to be but no one else has noticed,” she said emphatically, and Lucas knew exactly what she meant. His heart felt the same way.

“The only hard thing,” she continued, “Is that we both want to dance for the rest of our lives, we’ve always known that.”

“Why is that the hard part?” he asked. 

“Because, what if we end up in different companies? I know it's too early to say so, but I want her by my side forever, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to be the dancer I know I am without her with me,” Manon emphasized, voice slightly pained. 

Lucas put his hands on either one of her shoulders. “First of all, I feel like when you know, you know. I don’t think it’s too early, especially when you’ve known each other for ten years. That aside, if you guys really are forever, a little distance won’t be the end of you. Plus there’s a great opportunity you’ll both make it into the same company after graduation, especially if you go to the same city.”

“Who are you?” Manon asked.

Lucas rolled his eyes again. “Man, I’m serious.”

“I am too, why are you giving me rational advice? No offense, but you’ve never been my go to advice giver, especially when you’re so shit at taking it yourself, grudge boy.” She raised her eyebrows at him, and he blushed.

“Grudge boy, that’s a new one,” he said.

She placed her hands on top of his. “I’m not saying you don’t have a reason to hold a grudge, I’m just saying maybe you should take some of your own advice and live and let live. Even if you refuse to tell me about it, I can tell that someone has a hold on your heart. Pretend all you want, but you forget that we share a soul, and that I feel everything you feel just like you feel everything I do.”

It was really annoying how perceptive she was. “You can keep it to yourself for now, but you deserve to be happy. As long as he’s making you happy, I guess I can’t complain,” she added, “Also, I still have my money on Arthur.”

“I’m not dating Arthur,” he said fruitlessly, earning him a sly grin. She probably still didn’t believe him, but at least he didn’t feel as guilty now. If she went on thinking he and Arthur had a secret relationship, that was on her. 

It hit them both that they’d been talking much longer than anticipated, and Lucas knew Eliott was probably wondering where the hell he was. Plus, he was tired as hell after taking exams all day. 

Lucas made obnoxious kissing faces when he dropped Manon off in her room, which he could tell she was only pretending to be annoyed by. The love emanating off her was too strong for her to actually have been mad. He wondered if his own love was as apparent, even in small ways. One part of him hoped it was, another part hoped it wasn’t.         

Lundi 2:17

Another night, another couple hours lying awake against his will. He hadn’t dwelled too much on his middle of the night thoughts during the hours he was supposed to be awake, but every time he laid down in bed for the night they came creeping back, interrupting the peace he found in Eliott’s arms. 

“You’d tell me if anything was wrong, right?” Eliott’s voice ghosted on his back as Lucas laid tangled in his arms and legs. He startled slightly, he’d thought Eliott was already asleep. 

Lucas didn’t know where the question came from, but he lied swiftly. “Of course.”

Part of him felt bad for lying, especially when he could tell Eliott cared so much about him, but he didn’t want to deal with the things he was feeling, at least not verbally or at two in the morning. He didn’t want to be a burden on Eliott, a broken mess Eliott had to continually pick up the pieces to. 

“I love you, Lu, more than you know.” Eliott’s voice came in a murmur, and Lucas wondered if maybe he was asleep after all, or halfway there. His heart burned at the words, burned of his own love mixed with his feelings of unworthiness that only came out at night. 

The best thing to do, the only thing to do was to shove everything to the back of his mind, ignore it all, and respond from the depths of his heart and soul. “I love you more than the moon loves the sun, Eliott Demaury, don’t you ever forget it.”

Eliott never responded, breathing slow and steady, which was just as well. Lucas even found himself drifting off into oblivion as well, the tundra inside his brain finally slowing down enough for him to take a real breath and remember that what Eliott said was true. He was loved in a way he’d never been loved before, and he should be taking advantage of that instead of running through all the things that could, and invariably would, go wrong.

Mercredi 12:57

Being in love was really annoying. He couldn’t keep losing his breath every time he caught sight of Eliott, it was getting ridiculous at this point. Although, in his defense, he did have a reason to lose his ability to speak or form a coherent thought at that moment. 

Eliott had texted him to meet outside the school at 13h, and to wear something nice. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that meant Eliott was planning a date, but Lucas found himself giddy and nervous nonetheless. It was the first date they’d been on, and the first real one Lucas had ever been on, now that he thought about it. They had Wednesday rehearsals cancelled because the director was out for the day, and Eliott clearly intended to take advantage of a day free of worrying about classes.

Lucas didn’t really know what ‘dress nice’ entailed, so he put on a pair of jeans and a blue denim shirt with a white shirt underneath. He didn’t have a suit, or anything, so this would have to do, given that most of his clothes were made for working out. 

Eliott, though, clearly knew what ‘dress nice’ meant. Because holy fuck. He had a green short sleeved turtleneck on that should not have made Lucas feel the way he did, but he couldn’t control the visceral reaction he’d had when he walked outside and caught sight first of Eliott’s fluffy hair, then the clothes hugging his figure. 

“Hi,” Eliott said, shoving his hands in his pockets as Lucas approached. 

“H-hey,” Lucas stammered, still at a loss for words. “I feel a little underdressed.”

Eliott looked him up and down, scrunching his eyebrows. “Are you serious? If we didn’t already have plans I’d already be tearing those clothes off you.”

“Eliott!” Lucas giggled, scandalized. 

Eliott laughed softly before calling him out. “Oh, please, like you weren’t thinking along the same lines?”

“Not that I was, but…” Lucas trailed off, forgetting what he was going to say when Eliott smiled at him so earnestly he thought he might melt on the spot. He blinked a few times to regain his composure. “Anyway, where are we going?”

Eliott shrugged, walking away backwards so Lucas would know to follow him. “Anywhere and everywhere,” he said when Lucas caught up to him. Anywhere and everywhere. Yeah, Lucas could get behind that. 

It was thrilling, to walk around together in plain sight, no one even glancing at them twice thinking, hey, Lucas, don’t you hate Eliott? Because he didn’t hate Eliott, and he didn’t have to here. 

When Eliott reached for his hand, Lucas grabbed it readily, beaming ear to ear. Eliott’s thumb rubbed circles on the back of his hand idly, and every touch made his heart stop beating just a little bit. 

When they ended up in front of the Louvre, Lucas looked at Eliott in amusement. Could they be any more cliche? 

“We’re tourists for the day,” Eliott explained, “Besides, when’s the last time you’ve been here, appreciated the art for real?”

It had been years, Lucas realized. He’d never cared much for museums, much less art museums, but the look in Eliott’s eyes changed his mind. He knew Eliott was passionate about art, especially dance, but from the minute they entered the museum it was like Eliott was an entirely new person. 

He pointed out and explained all of his favorite pieces in painstaking detail, and Lucas found himself hanging on to every single word. Sure, he didn’t care much about old art hanging on the walls of some buildings, but Eliott made him care. He made him realize that it was more than just a painting or sculpture, it was a way of living, of seeing, of expressing oneself in a way that was completely unique. 

“How we feel when we dance, that’s how da Vinci felt when he was painting the Mona Lisa. It’s incredible, the things that people can do, the feelings they can convey with a single paint stroke. I wish I could do that, have that impact,” Eliott said breathlessly as they ran through the museum, ignoring all the security guards disapproving stares.

You can, Lucas thought, but he didn’t say so. Maybe he should have, but he didn’t think Eliott would hear it at the moment. It was ok, though, to take a moment to be inspired, let that inspiration fuel the times to come. Of course Lucas knew that every step Eliott took was impactful in the same way the Venus de Milo was, but it was ok for him to keep that to himself for the moment and let Eliott soak in all this work that clearly meant so much to him. 

“Promise me we’ll go to New York some day,” Eliott said, staring up at the ceiling in awe. 

“Why?” Lucas asked, looking at Eliott instead of the art. He would argue that what he was looking at was more beautiful than any piece on display. 

“Van Gogh’s Starry Night is in New York, at the Museum of Modern Art. It’s my favorite painting of all time,” Eliott explained. 

Lucas scrunched up his nose and giggled. “Isn’t that a little cliché? Everyone’s favorite is the Starry Night.”

“That doesn’t make it any less beautiful.”

Well, that was true, Lucas supposed. “What’s the one of that weird dude yelling with all the orange in the background?” he asked. 

“The Scream?” Eliott clarified with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yeah, that one’s my favorite. Is that in New York too?” Admittedly, it was the only famous painting Lucas knew, other than the Mona Lisa and Starry Night. It was his favorite of the three, though. He felt an affinity for the screaming dude, sometimes he wanted nothing more than to just yell his problems into the void and have no one judge him for it. 

“No,” Eliott said, “The Scream is in Oslo. I don’t mind, though, we can go there too. I’ve always felt weirdly connected to Norway, for some reason. Maybe it’s your parallel universe theory, the original versions of us came from Norway or something.”

Lucas smiled and nudged Eliott lightly. “It’s not my parallel universe theory, it’s a very popular concept.”

“And here I thought my boyfriend was a genius,” Eliott gasped with false shock. 

“Hey, I am a genius,” Lucas shot back, taking both of Eliott’s hands and looking up at him with his head cocked to one side. 

Eliott considered him carefully, stepping closer as Lucas stepped behind himself until his back was pressed against the wall. “Mmm, no,” Eliott said slowly, softly, “You, my love, are a masterpiece.”

Lucas may have commented on the term of endearment if he wasn’t so entranced by Eliott’s eyes, searing with desire. Their hands were still connected, and Eliott pressed them against the wall lightly. “What are you doing?” Lucas asked with a tone of false innocence. Or maybe he didn’t. It was hard to tell when Eliott was still looking at him like that.

“Pinning the artwork to the wall,” Eliott said matter-of-factly, closing the short distance between the two of them, not a moment too soon. Lucas’ brain didn’t even have time to register how utterly ridiculous the words Eliott had just said were, it was too busy honing in on all the details of how Eliott was kissing him. 

He kissed back just as hungrily, rising up on relevé and clenching Eliott’s hands a little bit tighter. Eliott peppered kisses to his collarbone and Lucas tipped his head back, breathing heavily, opening his eyes a fraction only to remember where they were. Shit. 

“Eliott… Eliott…” his words came in gasps and, to his embarrassment, it sounded more like words spoken in passion than the fact that he was actually trying to get Eliott’s attention. That security guard looked like he might have been setting his sights on them. 

“Eliott,” he hissed, more sharply this time, and Eliott finally blinked up at him, lips puffy and so irresistible looking that it took all of Lucas’ self control not to lunge back into a kiss. “Security guard,” he said under his breath, and Eliott turned to look where Lucas was looking. 

“Shit,” Eliott murmured, realizing the guard was coming closer. They straightened out their clothes and separated from one another, trying to look and act casually. Maybe he wouldn’t say anything if they pretended nothing had happened. 

Then again, was luck ever on their side? “Excuse me,” the guard said, and Lucas looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “This is a highly revered institution, if you’re going to disrespect the property I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“We meant no disrespect,” Eliott said hurriedly, corner of his mouth quirking up, “But can you blame me? He’s more beautiful than all the art here.”

To his credit, the guard looked amused as he gestured to the exit. “I think it would be best for the patrons of the museum if you two took this elsewhere.”

“Buzzkill,” Eliott sighed as Lucas led him toward the exit by the hand, throwing an apologetic glance over his shoulder. Once they were outside Lucas put his face in his hands, cheeks burning. Never in his life would he have considered that he might be kicked out of a museum for making out with his boyfriend in the middle of the gallery. At least the room they were in had been mostly empty. 

“Where to next, Romeo,” Lucas said once he’d squeezed every bit of embarrassment out of himself, knowing this interaction would probably jolt him awake ten years in the future, remembering the look on the guard’s face and cringing internally. 

Eliott merely raised his eyebrows and slung an arm around Lucas’ shoulders. It fit there perfectly, but what else was new. “I wasn’t expecting to get kicked out of the Louvre, so I guess you’ll have to bear with me while I make up for lost time.”

Lucas smiled, leaning his head on Eliott’s shoulder. He could do that. 

Mercredi 18:33

They ended up doing the most touristy things Eliott could dream of, including going to Notre Dame, walking along the Seine, standing underneath the Arc de Triomphe, where Eliott took an absurd amount of pictures of him, and intentionally getting scammed by people selling poor quality berets on the streets. Being a tourist in his own city went against every principle Lucas had ever set for how to act in public, but he found that this was the greatest day he’d had in a long time. Lucas was even still wearing his shitty beret.

Now, Eliott was standing beside Lucas at the top of the Eiffel Tower, the last stop on their great Parisian adventure, and Lucas couldn’t even find it in himself to roll his eyes at the cheesiness of the gesture. Maybe it was a bit more romantic than he gave it credit for. Then again, Eliott could have pushed him into the Seine and Lucas would have thought it was the most romantic date ever. He giggled to himself at an idea that slipped into his mind, catching Eliott’s attention. 

“What’s so funny?” Eliott asked, looking at him with a glint in his eye. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Lucas giggled again, “I was just thinking, if we get married, we should do it on the bank of the Seine.”

Eliott looked surprised, and Lucas blushed to himself. What was he doing, talking about marriage when they were seventeen? Sure, they’d joked about it a few times, but it felt different after the whole day they’d spent together. “Ok. May I ask why?” Eliott asked.

Lucas bit his lip, hardly containing his grin. “So I can push you in at the end, for old times sake.”

Eliott huffed out a small laugh, closing his eyes as his smile split his face. “Only if I can pull you in after,” he negotiated. 

“Duh.” Lucas glanced at Eliott once more out of the corner of his eye before turning his gaze to the sunset in front of him. He didn’t usually care much for natural beauty, finding beauty in movement and sound and in the walls of a dance studio, but there was something particularly special about that sunset, almost like it had been crafted just for them. 

“Excuse me,” Eliott said, and Lucas turned his head again only to realize Eliott wasn’t talking to him. He said a few words to a woman behind him, handing her his phone and returning to join Lucas. 

“I asked her to take a picture of us,” Eliott explained, “Is that ok?”

“Of course,” Lucas responded, turning to the camera. Eliott pulled him back to face him. 

He fidgeted and cast his gaze downward. “Actually, I was hoping we could like, kiss, or whatever? It’s cheesy, I know, but…”

“Shut up,” Lucas said with a smile, pulling Eliott down to him. They probably kissed longer than the photo required, but the woman taking the picture didn’t seem to mind, telling them that they were a beautiful couple and she wished them the best. Eliott pulled up the picture when she was gone, and Lucas knew that, from his face, it was perfect. 

All you could see was their silhouettes, lit from behind by a mix of orange, yellow, pink, purple, and blue light. It was obvious that they were kissing, obvious how much they loved each other, even in the darkness of the figures. It was Lucas’ favorite picture in the whole world. 

Jeudi 20:41

It had been difficult to return to the real world after their day of false tourism. Lucas let himself believe that he’d entered one of his parallel selves for the day, a Lucas who knew nothing of Paris, or ballet, and had wanted to experience it all for the first time. 

He kept checking his phone to look at the photo of them at the Eiffel Tower as the sun set over the city just to make sure he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. He was nearly certain he hadn’t paid much attention during rehearsals, but he couldn’t help it when he’d just had the best day of his life. How did one come back down to earth after getting a taste of heaven? 

Eliott was stretched out on their couch in the living room and Lucas was sitting at the counter with his laptop, trying desperately to work on his online schoolwork. He’d hoped this week would be a bit easier going because of exams on Sunday, but of course not. 

He might have succeeded in getting work done if Eliott didn’t look so fucking cute and wasn’t wearing one of his hoodies. They had never verbally agreed to share each others clothes, but Lucas stole one of Eliott’s shirts, then Eliott stole a hoodie, and things had only progressed from there. Not that they could wear any of it anywhere other than in the confines of their suite. 

“Eli, Eli, Eli,” Lucas whined from the counter, drooping his head into his arms against the cool surface. Eliott’s eyes peeked up at him from underneath the hood and his floof of hair. 

“Yes, my love?” Eliott responded, mimicking the way Lucas’ head was lying on the counter. My love. It was the second time he’d said it, but Lucas had been so lovestruck the first time he’d nearly forgotten about it. They didn’t do pet names, they really didn’t, other than Eli and Lu, but could those even be considered pet names if they’d been using them since they could speak? Lucas would probably die of embarrassment if Eliott called him babe or baby. My love. There was something about that one, though, something that set Lucas’ heart on fire. 

“I can’t concentrate when you’re over there looking like that,” Lucas huffed, pretending to be upset. 

Eliott frowned sympathetically. “Welcome to my world, Lu.”

“Shut up,” Lucas said, burying his grinning face back into his arms. 

“Oh, so you can say things like that but I can’t? That seems unfair Lallemant,” Eliott countered. 

Lucas let out a giggle. “I’m Lallemant now?”

“Only because you’re not Demaury yet.” This smooth fucker. Lucas was completely, one hundred percent done with him. He loved him so much. 

He sat up fully, trying to turn his attention back to his computer screen so as to not give away how flustered he was. “Well, until then…” Lucas trailed off, clicking his space bar to wake the computer from its screen saving mode. 

He let out a small gasp of shock as hands wrapped around his torso, pulling him off his seat and back onto the couch. The surprise didn’t last long, Lucas sank into Eliott’s touch almost immediately, curling into him like it was what he’d been made to do. Eliott wrapped his arms tighter around Lucas, placing his head on one shoulder. 

“Mmm,” Eliott hummed softly into his ear, “I should make us dinner, you’re too skinny.”

Lucas could tell by his tone that he’d meant it as a joke, but every single nerve in Lucas’ body stood on end at the words. He didn’t mean to, but he stiffened in Eliott’s arms, trying to steady the rapid pace of his heart. He’d been so careful, trying to make sure Eliott didn’t notice… and maybe he didn’t, maybe he was just making an excuse to get up and make food, but what if he wasn’t?

“Lu? You ok? I was just joking,” Eliott said, pulling back slightly. He knew Eliott knew the implication of his words, he might have been the only one that knew, but Lucas had been saying he was ok, so maybe Eliott forgot about when he wasn’t. 

“You— you don’t— I’m not—” Lucas was trying to hold his words back as they came out of his mouth, and he knew the exact moment Eliott worked out what he was trying to say, because he pushed Lucas off his lap to look into his eyes. 

They were beautiful, still, but they were furious. “Lucas. You haven’t been… no, you can’t have been, I’ve made a point to make meals with you…”

He didn’t have a problem he didn’t have a problem he didn’t have a problem he didn’t— 

“Lucas, say something.” Eliott interrupted his thoughts. 

But what could he say? I push around food on my plate and throw it away when you aren’t looking? I put on a whole façade every time you leave the room to make it look like I cooked and ate a full meal? I’ve been ‘eating’ with friends so often so you wouldn’t notice anything, because I know you’re the only one who would notice?

Eliott blinked at him in shock and Lucas realized he might have actually said that all out loud. Lucas recoiled as he saw the shock turn to disbelief and something that looked vaguely like anger. It reminded Lucas of how Eliott had looked after he’d insulted him at the party a few weeks back, but he was pretty sure this argument wasn’t going to end with a kiss. 

“I’m just kidding,” Lucas tried weakly, and he knew in that instant that it was the completely wrong thing to say. 

“Don’t you fucking dare, Lucas, I don’t even know what to say—” Eliott broke off, standing up from the couch and running his hands through his hair. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time. Why? I love you, and I only want the best for you, so why wouldn’t you tell me when you’re slipping back into this?”

“Because it’s not a problem, Eliott! I have it under control!” Tears pricked the corners of Lucas’ eyes and he willed them away. Fuck, he was such an idiot. So, so stupid. 

Eliott clenched his fists at his sides, looking down to where Lucas was still sitting curled in on himself on the couch. “It is a problem, Lucas! Maybe you tell yourself it’s not to justify your unhealthy behavior, but it is a problem!”

“Eliott—”

“Stop. If you’re never going to admit it to yourself, maybe I have to spell it out for you.” Eliott’s breaths were heavy and ragged, like he was angry and heartbroken at the same time. “You have an eating disorder, Lucas. I don’t know how long this has been going on exactly, but if it’s so easy for you to find ways to hide the fact you don’t eat, I’m going to take an educated guess it isn’t a new thing. Which also begs the question of why no one else has noticed before.” A pause. Then—  “I noticed, I always noticed.”

Lucas halted his rapid train of thought. “What does that mean? You always noticed?”          

“I notice every little thing about you, you think I’m not going to notice when the circles under your eyes are so dark they look bruised, or when you look so small I could wrap one hand around your waist? I ignored it for years, I told myself it wasn’t my problem, that you had Yann, and Manon, and Emma, and Arthur, and Daphné, and Imane, and probably a shitload of other people you cared about more than me. I made my peace with it and I pretended not to notice. I’m so fucking sorry for that, you have no idea, I’m sorry for being selfish and not speaking up when there was a real problem that no one was doing anything about. But I’m not sorry right now, because you need to hear this, you need to stop living in denial and realize that this is a problem. One that could cost you your fucking life if you’re not careful, Lucas!” His voice broke again, and Lucas felt a tear slip down his face at the same time he say one slip down Eliott’s. 

Eliott was silent for a moment, and Lucas thought he might have run out of things to say, when he added, in the softest, most broken voice Lucas had ever heard, “I can’t lose you Lucas, not when we’ve only just started what’s meant to be a life full of love.”

Lucas was at a loss for words. Eliott had noticed everything. Even when he’d been so careful over the many years, never taking things far enough to raise suspicion. No one else had ever noticed anything, but Eliott had, Eliott always had. Lucas loved him so much that he didn’t know what to do with it, so he did the only thing he knew how to do when confronted with an ugly truth. “Fuck off.”

The tears stopped running down Eliott’s face almost immediately. Lucas practically saw him close himself up, putting up walls that Lucas had only just started to see through. 

“Fuck off,” Lucas repeated, hating himself more than anything, “You don’t know shit, Eliott. You noticed everything, huh? What about the actual bruises, what about the way my spirit was crushed inside me every time I came back to school from the holidays? Huh? You noticed what was convenient, just so you could have this big ‘I told you so’ moment somewhere down the line. You didn’t want to have to deal with any of the real shit, so you just hyper focused on one thing, ignoring what wouldn’t make you a hero.”

“Are you serious right now, Lucas?” Eliott’s voice was cold, dead, defeated. “I need to know if you’re serious.”

He wasn’t, because it shouldn’t have been Eliott’s job to notice. He was, because if Eliott had made it his job to notice, why didn’t he notice everything? Lucas must have been silent a second too long, because Eliott took a deep, heaving breath and stormed to his room. He made way to slam the door, turning around to meet Lucas’ eyes at the last second. “I’ll let you win tonight, only because I can’t fucking deal with this right now, but I’m not pretending anymore. Starting tomorrow, we’re going to eat together for every meal, and I don’t care if you hate me again, but I won’t let you kill yourself slowly. We can start small, but we are going to start somewhere, because you have an eating disorder Lucas, and yeah, it’s a problem.”

The door slammed before Lucas could respond, which was probably a good thing, because Lucas might have said something he regretted. The sick, twisted thing about it all was that Eliott’s care for him only made him want to eat less. He wanted to show Eliott that what he was doing wasn’t a problem, and that he could keep doing it as long as he wanted, no matter what Eliott thought was best. He didn’t need a fucking babysitter, and he sure as shit didn’t want his boyfriend to act like his parent. If Eliott even still was his boyfriend. 

This was a mess, a mess of Lucas’ own making, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel guilty or remorseful about any of it. He felt proud that it had taken this long for anyone to snap, realize that they didn’t want to hold their tongue anymore. 

Maybe it was a problem, like Eliott had said, but it had always been Lucas Lallemant versus the world, and he’d learned how to thrive in that isolation. When the world threw quite a few punches, he punched back, never accepting anyone on his team because he didn’t need it. As much as he loved Eliott, he didn’t need him to be there to take care of him, he could do it all himself as he always had done. If Eliott didn’t understand that, maybe it would be better if they went back to being less than friends. Sometimes the best way to love someone was to let them go, and Lucas knew he’d only ever be a burden if he made Eliott stay. In the long run, Eliott would probably thank him for ending things before Eliott started to resent the fact that Lucas wasn’t perfect and, ok, maybe did have a problem. It was his own thing to deal with, and Lucas would make sure Eliott knew that from here on out. 

Lucas could already feel it hurting, the loss of the one person he’d thought he’d never have to lose, but at least he was accustomed to pain.

[prorevenge]

I don't like my neighbor, so I make a couple of phone calls.

I'm home while taking some time off from my job when, in the wee hours of the night, I hear music. It's loud, it's horrible, and it irritates me. But I put up with it and get a few more hours sleep after I put some earplugs in. After I wake up later that morning, I bring it up with my next door neighbors. They dredge up a tale about this scumbag.

We shall call him Dennis. He moved into my neighborhood several months ago. When he moved in, he was the nicest guy. Outgoing, social, talking to everybody in sight. That lasted about a week. \Relevant.)) Then, he defaulted to what seems like his normal behavior.

He blasts bad music that penetrates my apartment fifty meters away, most often when the sun goes down and right before it comes up, and the hours in between just to round it off.

He has a car and two motorcycles parked on the street, collecting dirt. Neighbors assume they're non-functional because they haven't been moved in three months and no one has ever seen them being used. No one can confirm that they were actually driven to their current resting place when he moved in.

He has two dogs on choke chains. He beats them more often than he feeds them; the next door neighbors can hear the yelping. I have been told that these dogs have caused injury to at least one person, if not more.

He has people going in and out of his place at all hours. Not a problem - the problem is that about half the time the people who drop by are staggeringly drunk or obnoxious, or both. Dennis himself is a mean drunk, and both neighbors and passersby have been subjected to his invective on a regular basis.

Neighbors have put in multiple complaints, but visits by local government officials* to keep the noise down are met with compliance for a few days, then it's back to whatever he was up to before.

Everybody within hearing distance hates him with a passion, but no one says a word to his face. Dennis has never said it outright and no one has found proof, but everyone suspects he's . . . an entrepreneur of controlled substances. And no one wants to point the finger because he knows who his neighbors are. \Told you it was relevant.))

No way, nobody deals in my neighborhood.

(I will not comment on the efficiency or the integrity of our local police force, but these LEOs work and have worked in an environment of temptation and corruption, with those on the bottom rung getting less than USD600 a month. (That amount figures in a 100\% salary increase went into effect just this past January 2018.) At the end of the day, they all just want to get back to their families in one piece.

PDEA, however, don't give a fuck. They'll go after anybody. Elected officials, organized crime, high rollers. Zero fucks. They're busy, as they tend to go after the big fish. The President has given them pretty much carte blanche, and he gives zero fucks too.)

I decide to roll the dice. I've had my fair share of time working with LEOs as an EMT, and I once did someone a favor a long time ago. I pull out an old, worn card out of my stack of professional contacts. Only one of the numbers is still working, but the person I spoke to gives me an updated number. I call and get in touch Mr. P.D.L. He's no longer with PDEA, but he knows someone who still is. We talk for about 30 minutes, and he asks all kinds of questions. When he's satisfied, he tells me he can't promise anything, then hangs up. Honestly, I don't expect much either.

Two weeks later: I wake up and go on my daily walk to buy some fresh bread down the street when the (cute) girl working there tells me the cops were all over the place early that morning just when they were putting in the first batch of yummy in the ovens. I don't make the connection and ask her out (again) and she turns me down (again - it's now a running joke between us) and buy my bread. The following day, next door neighbor knocks on my door and asks whether or not I knew Dennis had been arrested.

I shrug and say, "Nope, can't say I know anything about that."

The house stayed empty for a while after, but I just saw a new family moving in today which reminded me of the entire thing.

Honestly, I don't know whether or not my phone call had anything to do with Dennis' arrest, and I'm not about to call anybody in LE up to ask them. I may not have put up with Dennis' douchebaggery for any length of time, but my neighbors certainly have.

So, I'll leave it up to the sub to judge on merit whether this constitutes actual revenge or not, because \TL;DR)) I may or may not have called a drug raid on my neighbor because I (and my other neighbors) wanted a peaceful night's sleep.

*Barangay tanod, glorified Neighborhood Watch with sticks and reflective vests, a good idea in theory but mostly useless in actual practice.

(source) (story by InsaneRN)

[donttellpeterparker]

You’re A Loser Part 3

Summary: Peter had no idea you existed… till now. Who knew that just with one little text to the wrong number your whole world was about to change.

Requested: No

Word Count: 1.4k

Warning(s)?: Popular!Peter, Loser!Reader

PROMPT LIST

masterlist (x) requests (x)

dedicated to <3: @smexylemony, @18silverwolf, @loxbbg, @greenarrowhead, @ohdamnerons, @andreuskystuff, @americaswritings, @spiderdudeparker

——————————————————

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

You’re A Loser

The pen had fallen from your grasp for the tenth time that period. Science was boring to you currently, your mind being elsewhere. You picked up your pen once again and started twiddling with it nervously as you stared straight at the bored. You shared almost every class with your best friend Zack, best friend and only friend that is. You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or just plain depressing.

“Theoretically I can make this work till the big game where East plays West” You spoke loud enough only for him to hear you seeing as you were sitting next to each other at the bench.

“When is that?” The thought suddenly dawned on you, how long really did you have left to keep living this lie?

“Uhh, I don’t know check the band schedule, I think two weeks” Zack responds, preoccupied with the microscope in front of him to really pay attention.

“Two weeks?” You echoed sadly, resting your head onto the palm of your hand.

“Okay, well… what do I do?” You were desperate at this point. You were so in way over your head you didn’t even realize.

“What I’ve been telling you since day One, tell him the truth” He responds with a sigh, knowing it’s a lot more complicated than that.

“He’ll hate me…” You mumble underneath your breath sadly, your heart strings tugging together almost painfully. You pictured his smile as you would walk past him down the corridor, the way he would goof around with his friends and talk mainly about girls.

You always thought you could see through his facade though, like he was hiding something. He always seem to go missing at the most convenient of times, always showing up to school with a new set of bruises like he had just been to an underground fight club.

One time your eyes had made contact and your smile had dropped, noticing the huge black eye Peter was sporting behind the makeup. He had done a very good job of covering it up, if you weren’t so observant about him, you wouldn’t have noticed. You knew others hadn’t, well, at least it didn’t seem like they did.

You were worried for a while, wondering what was going on with him. He was the school’s star football player, why was he constantly getting hurt?

“I feel like he’s hiding something too…” You muttered, unfortunately loud enough for your best friend to hear from beside you.

“Yeah like what? That he likes to bake apple pies and likes to help out with the orphanage down the street three times a week?” He was being sarcastic but rude at the same time you felt. You were being serious.

“No it’s just- You really haven’t noticed anything?” You asks almost sounding bewildered. Zack stops to look up at you with a confused expression.

“Why have you?” He thinks about what he had just said then smiles.

“Forget it, I already know the answer to that” You laughed softly and nudged him in the ribs as he pretended to yelp quietly in pain.

You both laughed quietly to yourself that neither of you had heard Britney a few tables up bawling her eyes out. You soon stopped once you began to listen in on their conversation, it wasn’t hard to do seeing they were diagonally from you.

“No, no no. It’s not that” You could hear Britney mumble under her breath as she buried her hands into her arms.

“We went out yesterday and then this morning, he just texted me. He said I’m not smart enough for his college friends” You almost wanted to turn your nose up in disgust. Just what type of college douche bag was she dating?

“You know it really is none of your business?” Zack piped up beside you with a sly grin. You nodded your head in response and softly smiled back, shaking your head, pretending to go back to your work.

“I just don’t get it” You replied honestly.

“What don’t you get?”

“Why any guy would be stupid enough to pass up a girl like Britney Samuels” This was a first, where you actually… defending her?

“Because she’s an A-grade asshole with a severe attitudinal problem?” Yes she was that but… you gave up on the thought.

“Ladies! Please save the theatrics for your lunch break” Your science teacher had drawled out in monotone, upsetting Britney further. She angrily rose from her desk and stormed out of the classroom, your eyes following her movements as an idea began to form in your head.

“See I know that face, That’s the one that gives me the creeps.” You had ignored Zack.

“Don’t do it, okay, don’t do it. Don’t step off the ledge” You had the perfect idea. You immediately raised your hand and asked if you could go to the bathroom, Zack dropped his head into his hands and shook his head in shame.

You walked out the door with the Bathroom pass sign and walked down the corridor in search for Britney, knowing she mustn’t have gone far.

Once you found her you stopped in front of her, waiting for her to notice you. You swallowed the lump that began to form inside your throat due to nerves. She glances up to you and scowls, her face still beautiful even though half her make-up was smudged due to her crying.

“It’s flu season, you should really wipe that on your elbow” You attempted to joke. Instead she looked at you with a deadpanned expression.

“What do you want?” she was blunt, one thing you did kind of liked about her.

“I know you’ve been giving out my number to random guys” It was a stab in the dark.

“Yeah, so?” It was her, she is the Britney’s he’s referring too. You smiled softly.

“I think we can help each other” You stated.

“If you think i’m going to host a pity-party for a social reject like you then you’ve added crazy pills to your extensive medication list” You wanted to sigh aloud to her all too familiar insult that barely left a twang of pain.

“Are you done?” She had turned her head to face you again slightly surprised.

“…Maybe” She was running out of comebacks which means she was slowly warming up to whatever you had to say. This made you smile again properly.

“Good, because I can help you become smarter, to get back that guy” Why the hell would you offer to tutor her? She’s right, you had definitely had crazy pills this morning.

“How?” she was interested even though her face didn’t show it.

“I tutor people all the time… But I do need one minor favor in return” At this she scoffed to herself and wiped her nose with her sleeve.

“No, Psycho stalker, you can’t be friends with me. You know how many people beg to do my homework just so I’ll follow them on social media? Twenty thousand followers… following zero.” Just how stuck up is this broad?

“Yeah, that’s really impressive, but I don’t want to be your friend” you answered honestly, the thought had almost repulsed you.

“Liar, everyone does” You wanted to roll your eyes. Maybe this idea was a mistake.

“Yeah, not me, sorry” You stated with false sympathy.

“I’ll see you after school, text me your address, you already have my number” With this you turned away from her, smiling to yourself as you began to walk back to the classroom. A group of jocks had walked past, you side stepped them quickly, dodging the all to familiar clash with them. With this your smile became wider, a feeling of triumph rising in you.

Maybe this crazy idea could work after all.

~*~*~*~*

You walked through the front door of your house after your first study session with Britney. You had caught a glimpse into her life outside of school and well… it was interesting to say the least.

“Hey kid wonder, where have you been?” Your dad had stopped you once you bounded the stairs.

“Just tutoring a bad student who’s an even worse person” You sighed, resting yourself against the railing.

“Reeling and Writhing of course, to begin with.. and then the different branches of arithmetic: ambition, distraction, uglification and derision” You smiled to yourself as you let your brain ponder for a moment.

“Lewis Carroll” you responded.

“Good” He responded with a small smile of his own, returning back to his work.

“How goes the latest Opus?”

“Almost all Opused” You laughed at this.

“How’s the poem coming for class?” Your smile instantly faded.

“Umm, it’s good” You lied, you’ve barely started. Each time you put your pen to the page you brain froze, all thoughts immediately escaping you.

“When can I read it?” He asked interested.

“When it’s finished, still iambisizing the iambic pentameter” You responded, walking past him and into your bedroom.

“You know the hardest part of being a writer, still?” With this you had stopped and turned around in your doorway with a sad smile.

“The first read” You nodded your head in agreement.

“Allowing yourself to be that vulnerable” You pondered of his words before sending a small smile his way, closing the bedroom door shut.

You knew all too well about being vulnerable. Your phone chimed from inside your pocket and an instant warm feeling circled through your chest. You rushed to slip it out and opened up the message that was from Peter and began typing back a reply, feeling calm and happy once again.

~*~*~*~*

“Plato believed that physical beauty was both a form and a sensory experience” Britney and you were both currently sitting in her family kitchen at the breakfast bar, her mother doing some sewing behind while he kid sisters danced around the place. It was kind of sweet.

“Physical beauty facilitates platonic recollection” You finished.

“Reco-what?”

“Recollection” You repeated with a soft smile. You picked up the piece of ‘bread’ from in front of you and frowned at the bland taste once again, it definitely wasn’t 'bread’.

“Are you sure you don;t have any real food in this house?” You asked, not meaning for it to come over as rude or impolite or anything.

“No, You don’t eat junk at your age” Her mother responded from behind you.

“You’ll make life long fat cells that’ll ride your hips like a cowboy rides a buckin’ bronco.” Well that was definitely a new.. comparison.

“Mum” Britney seemed unimpressed as did you.

“And then what?” she continued.

“Okay.. umm”  You tried to diffuse the tension a little.

“Well, Plato was kind of a jerk, but in his more optimistic moments, he revered beauty for revealing the mysteries of the soul.” You concluded. Britney shook her head at you in confusion for a moment before her mother spoke up once again.

“Your father was a mystery to the soul, till the day he died of his heart attack” At this your eyebrows creased in confusion.

“Wait, I thought he died in plane crash-” Britney quickly snapped at her mother before returning her attention to you.

“Is there like a for dummies version of the for dummies version because I am not understanding any of this” she yells in frustration.

“Butt brain Britney” You could hear the soft chanting from behind you by her sisters. Your eyebrows again creased in confusion. It began to get louder and louder till Britney yelled at her sisters to shut up once again.

“Quite girls, they are trying to study” Her mother said in a mocking tone, angering Britney further.

“This is hopeless, I’ll never get it” With this she storms out as her sisters kept on chanting 'Butt Brain Britney’ over and over again as she stormed into the living room. You sighed and smiled sadly before following after her, ignoring her two younger sisters.

You reached the living room and sighed before sitting down across from her, watching as her back rose and fell as she silently cried into her hands.

“You’re not stupid Britney, okay? You think of some seriously mean crap. You gotta have something upstairs to think of those insults” She stopped crying and turned to face you with a small smile before quickly scowling at you.

“Nevermind” you sighed once again at her attitude. Just when you thought she was opening up to you.

“So this… Peter I’m dating?” It hurt to hear those words from her but it was true. No they weren’t 'dating’ but… it was complicated.

“Have you sext him yet?” You shook your head so fast in disgust you thought it was bound to fall off your shoulders.

“We can send him a nude if you want” Was she for real?

“No” No way.

“No, Peter’ isn’t like that” You defended, crossing your arms over your chest resting back into the couch.

“Everyone is like that” Britney responded, her eyes beginning to clear up.

“But if you want to start of JV…” She glances down into your lap where your phone was sitting softly in your grasp.

“What?”

“Your phone” Why did she want your phone? Was this another one of her tricks?

“Give me your phone” With this you reluctantly handed it over, watching her closely as she open up the camera app to take two selfies. She posed for them very cutely, even though her face was stained with tears before closing the phone, handing it back to you.

It was a pretty nice thing she did for you. You smiled.

“Thanks” You responded, not really knowing what else to say. She just smiles softly back before rising from her seat, beginning to lead you out of her house once you’ve collected your things.

~*~*~*~

You stared at the two photos on your screen, debating or not whether to send them to Peter. It would be plain wrong too. Why couldn’t you just take a selfie of yourself and confess?

You were scared.

You admired Britney’s physical beauty, girls would kill to look as gorgeous as her, hell even you would.

You never really cared about your appearance till Peter.

“Am I really going to do this?” You asked yourself aloud, opening up the messaging up to send one of the photos through to Peter. This was insane, you knew it. You felt like you had no other choice though in the moment.

So you did what you thought you would never do, you sent the photo.

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A/N: Here’s part 3! I am really enjoying writing this series so far! Please let me know what you think <3 xx