#when the only other teacher we have seen on screen physically hurting their student is kim da eun…….

[robbyykeene]

This scene is crazy bc it’s obviously supposed to be a callback to kk1 with the daniel/ali/johnny scene at the country club but like. For starters, Johnny sexually harassed/assaulted Ali in that scene which is something the writers have lowkey tried to retcon and water down, so to reference it now, in the final season of a show that’s supposed to be about Johnny’s “redemption”, is an insane choice. But also if I have to watch Kwon or literally any man force himself onto Tory in anyway. I am going to have to start maiming and killing

[prof-peach]

if fans wanted to include peach in stuff they write, would that be okay? and how would they write peach's personality? aside from "FIGHT ME" anyway, i think that much is a given lol. i only really write the anime characters 'cause that's what i know, but it sounds like it'd be kinda fun to try making a version of ash that fits into this blog's universe! nerf'd Obviously, but i think she'd probably appreciate how hands-on he gets when training his pokemon!

Ok, I get a lot of these messages, and I often hear folks wanting to throw peach into their stories and comics and writings, and I will always simply ask that if it’s published online publicly, to be linked to it so I can snoop and enjoy the content too. If someone asks about her in your work, let them know about the blog I guess? But literally I love that people take this stuff, these characters and stories, and make new stuff with it. No ones making money off my work here? So where’s the issue? Go for it buddy, knock yourself out, I’m all for it.

For you, and all the others out there who want to add peach, and other characters to your world building, I will give you a detailed rundown of the main lot, and how they behave, what they do, how they function. You can use that, use bits, or use none of it, I do not mind at all. If you’re creating something, you’re in control, not me.

So, peach doesn’t actually fight people as much as you’d think. She’s very aware most cannot and do not want to do that, and so she likes to keep to herself with regards to that aspect of her life, she doesn’t ask to spar with people, or even bring it up at all, but people ask her all the time, even if they clearly would lose or become hurt should she miscalculate during the fight. She looks at people like they usually create problems, and often has a somewhat reserved nature to other humans. You have to work quite hard to get anything more than formalities out of her. She will dead-pan handle people with blunt and very to-the-point statements, aid whenever possible, but very quickly get back to handling the Pokemon she so carefully tends. Her focus is clear, she’s all about hard work, her very small select family, and the Pokemon.

Her brutal, loud and brash personality only comes out with friends, family, difficult humans, OR any Pokemon. She will joke and laugh and play with Pokemon, but clam up around humans, maintaining tight body language and generally will be a little cold by regular standards. She does however have some weaknesses in this emotionless shield she puts up. When peach was young she was always angry, which swung so fast to sadness, back and forth. Her teenage years it just got worse and worse, it was crippling at points. She is to this day, full of fire and rage, even sadness, but now she has learnt to control it, to use it. When she sees that in others, it’s familiar, and she is pushed to drop the front, and be very real with the person. Underdogs I suppose, people who get bad reps, but deserve the same as everyone else. She can’t ignore it.

Once you start to pry open her personality, you’ll find she’s a lot more laid back and fun than originally appeared, you just have to work hard to find that side of her. She will meme reference, can’t dance to save her life, loves her coffee, and can be caught in quiet contemplation while gardening. This hobby is her calmest, and often is why she can stay so level headed when her quiet rage boils up again. Without time outside she will become grouchy, a little snippy, and lethargic. Will not go in the ocean for any reason other than life or death, is fine with ponds and rivers, or water at wading height. Likes the rain.

With regards to her training others, they usually have to tolerate her somewhat strict nature. She is a little....unforgiving, holds a grudge if you make a lot of mistakes, and has no tolerance for ignorance in the age of information that we all live in. In previous posts I’ve mentioned she’s only recently selected two students, after many years of testing kids who want to learn from her. Hundred tried out, only two have ever been approved. How she teaches is very fast paced, be prepared to get some scrapes and bruises, she will test your physical and emotional tolerances with intense tasks, carefully watching students like a hawk. Bad posture in your stance? She’ll be the first to tell you to sort it out. Not hearing your Pokemon partner? Right, now you spend the day without using words trying to communicate, let’s see how you like not being listened to.

This is a woman who has spent her life saying very little, and watching everything, she watches Pokemon and can see an issue from a mile off, and in battles, her observations are why she can react fast, and chose effective strategy to avoid damage and achieve results. Don’t let her body fool you, her strongest asset is analysing, watching, planning. Those skills have over the years transferred to people too. As a student, mistakes don’t go unnoticed with this professor.

Her methods are harsh but fair, and should you prove yourself, she will protect you with her life.

Because of her disinterest in kids and lots of noise, she does pass the training of students on to the other staff members whenever possible. Grey takes on the lions share of battle lessons, he is far calmer, more open and friendly, with patience for people, and an empathy that peach sometimes struggles to have. When you go through a lot of harsh training, and difficult events, it’s hard to change how you feel or think, with peach, well, she’s been through it. Most do not come out the other end in one piece, but she did, and it made her strong. You may think I mean strong like buff and big, and yeah sure she is, but I mean it mentally more than anything. Peach will not quit. She has learnt to destroy the boundaries that stop people getting hurt, gone is the fear that freezes you in your tracks, that feeling that you’ll pass out if you go one more step. She’s learnt to ignore it.

This means she’s a little forgetful at how it is to be normal, to be vulnerable and soft and squishy like students so usually are.

She has her issues, but for the most part, visitors get a laugh, a smile, a calm assertive confidence, and facts. She will indulge those who have genuine interest, or show a connection with nature, an understanding of the balance that needs to be struck for everyone to live well together.

Despite her many flaws, she’s fiercely protective, and will go above and beyond to defend the island, it’s staff, the Pokemon and the visitors. Injustice is her biggest gripe, along with littering, and she doesn’t stand by quietly if something happens that seems unfair.

You will not see her without Valka, her vulpix, close by. That Pokemon doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, at all, and will run the second someone comes at her with that intent. Peach will scold you for pushing yourself onto her, should you persistently try to get close to pet Val. They are in sync, if peach is sad, Val is sad, if Val is stressed, peach is stressed, and so on. They are inherently connected, it’s just been that long, the psychic bridge between them has been built, and reinforced over the years.

The only other Pokemon who follows her so endlessly is Booker, a teddiursa who’s pretty rough looking. He quietly trots behind, grouchy and stoic, they fight closely together a lot. He lost his mom a long time ago to poachers, and peach took him in, and changed her whole life for him. Not many people know, but Booker was the reason she left the rangers, changed career, and got so strong. Will tolerate people petting him but isn’t keen at all, grumbles a lot and tries to move away.

You may also need to know about the others, for the sake of writing, she here a few more bits that may be important to you, or others wanting to do this.

Grey is very tall, very burly, composed, tells bad dad jokes, is a bit of a goof if allowed to be. If he sees a pun, he’ll say it. Can’t help himself. Very nice guy to work with, good at keeping people calm and grounded. Pokemon are drawn to him like a moth to a flame, he gives off warm energy, and has inhuman amounts of patience. If you wrong his family however, he will snap back.

He grew up in the city, loves to swim and hike and cycle, can snowboard, is really sporty. A total brain box with held items, and boosting stats. He will explore many paths, to make sure visitors and students get the information they need, in a way that can be remembered and retained for later. Is a huge guy, but will get on the floor to play with a tiny Pokemon. Treats big “meaner” looking species like babies, very good with all pokemon.

His free time is spent either tinkering, swimming, or trimming his bonsai trees. This guy stares at screens a lot, so appreciates time away from them. Peach built him his own little greenhouse for his trees and tools, which he keeps clean and loves dearly.

His methods as a teacher are built around fun and games, he makes hard work easier to do by distracting trainers from the difficult bits, and focusing in on something more interesting or compelling.

His most commonly seen Pokemon would be a houndoom, Saxon, old battle veteran, retired now to herding and being a good boy. Very gentle, loves a pet.

Pari, now a fully fledged nurse, often oversees the labs front desk and pokecentre features, such as healing pokemon, and informing trainers who come to visit. Her skills with eggs and hatchlings is high, she’s great with younger Pokemon, and hands out good advice to trainers a lot. She’s not a fighter, never was, but can find any file, any study, any book, and any refrence you may need. A true bookworm, loves her romance novels, chat shows and upbeat celebrity gossip mags. Will cry at a lot of stuff, be it sad or happy.

She’s got a seriously upbeat personality, but if caught off guard or shocked, she gets a little flustered. Too much chaos will overwhelm her, but usually she’s on top of things. The years spent on the island have made her better at maintaining composure in emergencies. With lots of siblings, she’s very competent with others, and has a good ability to disarm cagey people with her jolly nature. Because of this, she can sometimes gain information from trainers that some of the more harsh professors may not have access to. Charming is a word for it.

Her partners are an eevee, and a happiny. They are quite sweet and well adjusted, the eevee gets a bit bouncy if you get it too excited.

[chubbycatsupremacy]

❖ Yandere Mono x Fem! Reader —《When you save their life and their reaction afterwards》❖

☆『Mono』☆

Mono is always vigilant and he is also very confident in his own abilities. Mono's confidence is not unreasonable either, he has enough stamina to be able to run and climb non-stop. And don't forget Mono's superpowers, he can use it as an ace, when in danger, he only needs a TV to teleport somewhere else.

Mono is strong both physically and mentally, it's not just luck that he's survived until now, it's simply because Mono is a very resilient boy. Mono always holds his head high whenever he proudly tells you about his accomplishments, such as defeating The Doctor or The Thin Man (himself).

But no one has never made a mistake, of course Mono is not an exception. You know that Mono can be a bit subjective sometimes because of his over-confidence. And it was Mono's subjectivity that resulted in two of you almost died at the hands of The Teacher.

Mono didn't pay attention to the location he would go to when teleporting over to the TV, so instead of a secluded and safe place as usual, the two of you accidentally fell out of a TV hanging overhead. Fortunately, there are soft mattresses where you two landed. But you get panicked again as soon as you realize where the two of you are at the bedroom of The Bullies, worse than The Teacher standing right there, watching the "students" with a ruler in her hand.

The Teacher spotted the two of you almost immediately, she let out a shrill scream and The Bullies suddenly got up out of bed, chasing after you and Mono. Mono grabs your hand without hesitation and he drags you down the hallway, the two of you dodging traps and trying to find a TV or some other way out.

Perhaps your luck is still on, as Mono has finally found a TV set in the corner, flashing red lights indicating it's still working. But it's not turned on yet, there's a remote on the side table, the problem is that Mono will need time to climb onto the table and get the remote to turn on the TV, he won't be able to do it if he gets The Bullies chase.

You need to extend the time for Mono.

Your eyes move around, you are looking for something that can be used as a weapon, and you immediately notice an ax stuck on the wooden door. Without hesitation, you jerk your hand away from Mono's and run towards the ax.

"(Y/N)! It's dangerous, get back here!" Mono shouted your name in panic, pure fear taking over his mind. On reflex, Mono reached out to pull you back, but you quickly pushed Mono's hand away and pointed towards the TV.

"I'll buy you time, grab the remote to turn on the TV!" You say aloud, Mono tries to pull you back, but you don't care and rushes towards the ax.

You jump up to grab the handle of the ax, you have to swing back and forth a few times to let the ax fall to the ground.

Mono bites his lips so tightly that he bleeds, although he doesn't want you to have to fight alone with The Bullies, but Mono knows now that he has to turn on the TV, then both of you can escape.

He needs to hurry! He has to turn on that damn TV!

Mono used the fastest speed ever to climb onto the table, he tried to keep himself from distracted by you, but the noise coming from behind still made him unconsciously shiver.

Stop shaking, focus you idiot! Mono shook his head vigorously.

The Bullies surround you and try to grab you, you repeatedly swing the ax to smash their porcelain heads, you have opened a path towards the TV. Thankfully, The Bullies seem to have all of their attention on you, and Mono has smoothly left their encirclement.

Oh man! This is terribly heavy! You are gasping for breath because of the weight of your oversized ax, your wrists and calves ache after just a few swings of an ax.

You wonder how Mono felt every time he fought with his giant ax and hammer, he even had to go a long way with them in hand, and you've never seen Mono complain about that...

"Got it!" Mono exclaimed happily as he held the remote in his hand. Mono turns on the TV without hesitation, the familiar screen appears, but Mono does not immediately leave, instead, he turns his head to call you.

"(Y/N), let's go!"

You raise your head to respond to Mono, but the scene ahead makes you dread dumbfounded. The Teacher was right behind Mono, her neck stretching like a snake, Mono hadn't even noticed yet!

Mono is in danger!

"Get out of there!" You push Mono aside just before The Teacher can grab him. Mono falls to the floor from being pushed so hard by you, but right now he doesn't care about the pain.

With all the strength you have, you swing your ax to slash The Teacher's head. Unfortunately, your speed is so slow, she dodges and immediately switches to attack you. You are almost bitten by The Teacher if Mono doesn't pull you into the TV in time.

Mono took the two of you to a safer place, of course he carefully checked the place they were going this time. You both fall on the floor, you are still panting, your heart racing with adrenaline. Mono is not much better than you, what just happened still shocked him.

Lucky for Mono because you were with him then, if Mono was alone, perhaps his body would have been cold in that school.

You're really glad you have a quick enough reflex to push Mono out...

"(Y/N)! Were you injured?" Mono frantically grabbed your shoulder after he calmed down.

"I'm okay, don't worry." You replied. Except for your wrist that hurts a bit from swung an ax, you're fine.

Mono is still not assured, he carefully examines you from top to bottom once. Finally, his eyes are fixed on the bloody cut on your lower leg.

"You're hurt!" Mono spoke in a high voice, his dark eyes filled with fear.

You didn't even know about the wound, maybe you accidentally injured yourself while swinging the ax around, you were too panicky and focused only on getting out of danger, adrenaline makes you forget all the pain. Now that you're safe, you finally feel the terrible pain radiating from your shin, and you wince in pain.

"Oh damn it..." You groan, the wound is deeper than you thought.

Unbelievable you are completely ignorant of it, you even ran the whole distance with a wound on your leg...

Mono instantly turns pale when he hears you groan, he frantically searches for first aid supplies to help you stop the bleeding. Unfortunately, this apartment is nothing more than a TV, a dusty sofa and a collapsed bed.

"Wait a minute, I'll go find some medicine and bandages! Stay here and wait for me to come back." Mono gently helped you sit down on the sofa, then he hurriedly ducked into the TV again.

Mono returned after only a few minutes with a box of bandages and alcohol in hand, you guess Mono went to the hospital to find them.

"Thanks, Mono..." You say in a weak voice.

Mono avoiding your eyes.

"... Don't thank me."

Mono helps you clean your wound in silence, his movements very gentle and careful, but you still hurt to the point of shaking. You instinctively pulled your foot back when Mono accidentally grazed your wound.

"Sorry! Did I hurt you?" Mono apologizes frantically, his reaction makes you feel as if you have been amputated or something...

"Don't worry, it's just my body's natural response." You shake your head in reply and smile reassuring Mono, you don't want to make him worry.

Mono wrapped the bandages for you and chirped non-stop, "Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, it will be alright, everything will be all right..."

You stare at Mono, you feel he's comforting himself, not you, because you're not really panicking at all, the only one scared here is Mono.

You decided not to say anything and let Mono deal with your wound, you also noticed Mono's regretful eyes, you knew he was blaming himself for endangering you. Honestly, Mono was really wrong in this case, he was too subjective and accidentally put both of you in danger. But you also don't want to blame Mono, you know he didn't mean to do it, Mono also really regrets it and will never make this mistake again.

"I'm terribly sorry, (Y/N)..." Mono bit his lip, he lowered his face, letting his long bangs cover his eyes. Mono said in a choked voice, "I put you in danger! I was so subjective, I'm an idiot, I should have paid more attention! You almost got killed just for saving me! I..."

"Stop blaming yourself, Mono. Everyone made mistakes, and we're still alive, that's the most important thing. You just need to stop being so subjective." You interrupt Mono, you don't want to hear him blame himself.

If you were injured for saving Mono, you definitely won't regret it, it's the decision you've made so you have to take responsibility for it yourself. Anyway, you feel it is the right thing to do, if you have the right to choose again, you will still choose to save Mono in spite of the danger.

"There won't be a next time, I'll always be careful, I promise!" Mono grabs your hand tightly and assures you in an affirmative voice.

"Even if you have superpowers, you shouldn't be arrogant, considering today's accident is a lesson for you. Keep in mind, we're not always as lucky as we are today." You patted Mono's shoulder, the child said nothing, he just stared at you with a complicated expression.

"Aren't you mad at me?" Mono stammered slightly.

You shrug and roll your eyes, "If I said no, that would be a lie. But you saved me anyway, I won't be angry at the person who saved my life."

Actually, you see Mono saved you so many times, you owe him too much...

Mono just stared at you without replying.

"By the way, I also want to ask you a few questions." You suddenly remembered your question.

"... Huh?" He finally talks instead of just staring at you.

"Do you get tired or hurt your hand every time you use the ax or hammer?" You cleared your throat, deciding to change the subject to make the atmosphere less tense.

Mono gets confused when you suddenly ask an unrelated question, but he still honestly replies, "Of course I do, especially since I have to use them most of the time."

As if thinking of something, Mono suddenly narrowed his eyes, "Wait, why are you asking that?"

"I used an ax to fight The Bullies today, and then I think about how you feel..." You smiling sheepishly.

"What? Did you have a pain in your hand?" Mono only notices the front side of the sentence, he immediately grabs your wrist to check. You try to pull your hand back, but Mono holds your hand too tightly.

"Just a little tired, but I realize that fighting is really terrifying and dangerous. You always protect me without ever complaining, even if you get hurt... I feel so heartless because I have never asked you about this, you must have been very tired."

"From now on, please let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

Mono looking you straight in the eye for a few seconds before he lowered his head again.

"... Don't say that, I never mind, actually I'm happy to protect you." Mono shyly scratches his cheek, he averts his gaze and fixes his eyes on the floor.

You chuckle as you flicker Mono's forehead, "You didn't notice but I did! Thank you for always protecting me, Mono."

Mono was stunned, his cheeks flushes like a fever, his heart beating fast like a drum.

"Next time let me help you! We can work together to defeat monsters!" You took Mono's hand and said.

Mono's smile disappeared as soon as he heard you say that, his embarrassed expression was immediately replaced by fear, Mono raised his voice to protest at you immediately. Mono's reaction startles you.

"No! Once like today is enough!" Mono squeezed your hand, his shoulder blades shaking a little as he said, "Do you know how scared I was? Can you imagine how I felt?"

"Mono..." You spoke softly, trying to calm Mono down, but Mono didn't give you a chance to finish your sentence. He was like an angry animal, only screaming in anger.

"When you suddenly let go of my hand, I was so scared! And when you almost got killed by The Teacher... Just thinking about losing you and being alone again, I feel myself going crazy!"

Before you can comfort Mono, he jerks his head up and looks you straight in the eye.

"Promise me, never do that again."

"... But if I hadn't, you wouldn't have had time to turn on the TV." You sigh, "I have to do it for us, Mono."

"We can think of another way! We can find a hiding place or a different route! Anyway, it doesn't matter if it takes a little time!" Mono replied in a harsh tone, his eyes were bloodshot and his angry words were spat through clenched teeth. The lights in the room kept flashing because Mono's emotions were fluctuating, the air seemed to thicken, the whole room shook violently as if there was an earthquake, everything look like a slow motion movie.

You press your back against the back of the sofa and instinctively move away from Mono. Mono looks about to lose control again, this happened before when you were attacked by The Viewers. Mono has not been able to fully control his superpower, he easily loses control when he is too angry or sad, that's why Mono always tries to keep himself calm in all situations.

Mono was almost out of control, but when he saw that you were wary of him, Mono's anger immediately disappeared like a punctured balloon.

The lights come back on, the earthquake has stopped and you breathe a sigh of relief, you don't even realize you held your breath.

Mono never wants to scare you.

Mono looking down at the bandages wrapped around your legs, his voice sound low as if he was muttering, "I can't lose you, (Y/N). If you die, I definitely won't be able to control myself anymore. "

You know Mono isn't joking, because you know what kind of person Mono is.

He will be really mad.

You feel so lucky that you and Mono were able to escape The Teacher in time, if you were killed at that time, you can't imagine how Mono would react...

[azucanela]

FAULT | BAKUGO KATSUKI X READER

SUMMARY: Y/N accompanies her mentor, Aizawa Shouta, to the homes of her fellow students after the incident at Kamino Ward. One moment with her classmate Bakugo Katsuki stands out in particular.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

WARNINGS: injury, insecurities, self-blame, is damn a curse word?

A/N: this is chill, i wrote it pretty quickly because i wanted the idea out of my head and onto the computer screen so lmk if its bad pls ashdkjashdjh

“Why exactly is she here again?” 

Toshinori Yagi, better known as the Pro Hero All Might, stared at the girl that stood beside Aizawa Shouta. Scrolling on her phone with one hand, and the case that held her hero outfit in the other. Y/N L/N, one of the top students in Class-1A, and the entire Hero Course. Since she’d gotten in on recommendation, her name had been on Principal Nezu’s list of potential successors. After seeing her skill, he understood why, and to gain Aizawa’s favor? That was a talent in and of itself. 

Shrugging, Aizawa brought his capture weapon and scarf further up around his head in an attempt to shield his face, they’d already been harassed by reporters about a dozen times and he didn’t want to be in any of the photos, “we have training after this.” 

It appeared this young girl was also Aizawa’s protege, though the man would likely never admit it, Toshinori could tell he’d taken a liking to the young girl, and taken her under his wing. She’d received additional training from the Pro Hero just like Midoriya received extra training from Toshinori. 

“So... I can go retrieve young Midoriya?” They’d just left his house, and now they were heading over to Bakugo’s. Y/N knew him fairly well, he’d insisted they train together when she’d scored better than him on quirk tests, and then he insisted they study together when she’d performed better on written work as well. In exchange, he helped her with the more physical aspect of being a Pro Hero. Her least favorite part if she was honest. But it was worth it, training with Bakugo was difficult, but it had certainly helped her improve. 

Their time together had gone from... strictly competitive to competitive and fun she supposed. Y/N had found that after spending a while with Bakugo, it was easier to understand that he had his own way of expressing his care for you. When Y/N forgot to bring lunch, he’d call her an idiot but he would share his own nonetheless, and this was a frequent occurrence so Y/N was shocked when he’d told her to stop trying as he’d slammed another lunch down in front of her.

He’d made her lunch everyday since then. Nobody dared comment on it purely out of fear for their life. It was an unspoken rule not to discuss the way that Bakugo treated Y/N, the different way he treated her. Of course, this was a rule Kaminari and Kirishima broke frequently, earning them quite a few —empty— threats. 

Watching her teacher, Y/N rose a brow as he practically glared at the former Number One Pro Hero, “absolutely not.”

The man opened his mouth to protest, only for Y/N to interrupt before the pair of teachers could argue, “I’m not interrupting anything by waiting outside.” Looking up from her phone, she offered him a smile, “if one of the parents happens to have a problem with it, I don’t mind waiting in the car.” Sitting outside was much more enjoyable than staying in the stuffy car with the scarily silent chauffer, but if she had to do it, then she would.

Aizawa gave Toshinori a look as Y/N spoke, and the man simply sighed in acceptance. “Onto the home of young Bakugo then.”

Y/N had been to his house a few times. Whenever the café they usual studied at wasn’t open, they either went to her home, or on rare occasions, his home. Of course, Bakugo had ensured his parents weren’t home whenever they did this, though Y/N wasn’t sure why. Regardless, most times at his house they’d get sidetracked, much to Bakugo’s dismay, and end up in his kitchen.

Pulling up in his driveway, a smile found its way onto Y/N’s face. She’d suggested numerous times that they have a picnic on his neatly trimmed lawn, though Katsuki shot her down most of the time. 

Stepping out of the car and sitting on the steps that go up to his front door, she watches as Aizawa and Toshinori enter with few questions from Bakugo’s mother. She looked a lot like him if Y/N was honest, and from the sound of it, they also shared a similar personality. Y/N could hear their yelling from outside.

Smiling at the sound of Bakugo yelling out insults, Y/N let out a small laugh as she leaned her head back against the wall. Though her laughter came to an abrupt stop when she heard what his mother yelled next.

That it was Bakugo’s fault he’d been kidnapped. 

Y/N found herself sitting up as the boy grew silent, coming to a stand to see if she could see his living room from the window beside the front door. But there was no view of Bakugo himself.

Perhaps thats because he was the one slamming the front door behind him, coming to a stop when he noticed Y/N’s attempts at snooping. She immediately turned to him, trying her best to look normal, though it was clear he’d noticed what she was doing. They made eye contact, and Bakugo opens his mouth, only to shut it as he narrows his eyes at her, “how much did you hear?”

His voice is oddly calm as his stare pierces into her soul, and its an odd change of demeanor for him, one that takes Y/N a few moments to understand. 

He was embarrassed. 

If Bakugo was honest, Y/N was one of few people he actually respected. She’d exceeded him in certain areas of school, and helped him improve in more ways than one. To make matters worse, despite his intent to get through his years at UA without a... distraction. Y/N had somehow wormed her way into his heart, no matter how hard he tried to keep her out of it. The fact that she’d come to his rescue when he was kidnapped, despite the potential consequences, hadn’t helped. She’d seen him at his weakest. 

“Bakugo-” 

His name alone is answer enough as Bakugo lets out a noise of frustration, moving to leave, only for Y/N to grab his hand despite the pain that spreads through her own at the feeling of small explosions emitting from his palm. Yanking him back towards her, Bakugo is opening his mouth once more, likely to yell at her for her idiocy as he attempts to remove his hand from her grasp. But Y/N doesn’t relent as she sweeps her foot under his leg and knocks him down, effectively allowing her to straddle him and hold him down.

“Let go of my hand you damned idiot!” There’s a panicked look on his face as he speaks, but the only thing Y/N can think of is the fact that he hadn’t threatened her yet. He hadn’t aggressively shoved her away with his free hand, nothing.

No, his concern was different, and Y/N’s concern probably should’ve been the same seeing as she could practically feel her skin sizzling from the heat of his own, but at that moment, she didn’t care as she grinned down at him, “bet you regret teaching me that move now, huh?” 

He pauses his writhing beneath her, chest heaving as he glared, “are you serious-”

“You know, what your mom said isn’t true.” This makes him go silent, and Bakugo finally allows his head to fall onto the grass as he looks away from her once more. “It wasn’t your fault Katsuki.

Bakugo inhales deeply, “I ruined All Might-”

In response, Y/N uses her free hand to push his shoulder harder into the ground and hold him still, “no! You didn’t.” 

“Didn’t I?” He finally manages to snatch his hand away from her, flipping the two of them over, Bakugo plants his hands beside her head, the grass singeing black because of the misuse of his quirk. Almost instantly, he frowns, “I can’t even control my stupid quirk-”

“You have some of the most impressive quirk control in the class, is that a joke?” Y/N brings both her hands—including the one that probably would’ve hurt a lot more had it not been for the adrenaline flowing through her veins— to his face, and as Bakugo brings his hand to her wrist, Y/N wonders if he’s going to rip her hands from him as she speaks, “Katsuki it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask to be kidnapped, and at the end of the day we are just kids. You can’t be expected to save yourself against villains.” His hand remains on her wrist, but he doesn’t remove it from his face as Y/N inhales deeply. “If anything it’s my fault-”

“Shut up.” The hand still beside her head clenches, tearing at the grass. “Shut up.” He repeats, exhaling sharply as his eyes squeeze shut, Y/N realizes this is because a tear successfully managed to fall down his cheek, despite his attempts to prevent it. “Don’t be dumb.” He practically growls at her, trying to hide his pain with aggression once more. 

Brushing her thumb against his cheek, Y/N offers him a smile, “then I guess its nobody’s fault.” 

He’s silent for a moment, eyes piercing in hers as he tries to figure out what to say. “Sure,” he grumbles in response, gently pulling her hand from his cheek, Y/N allows him to examine the damage, his brows furrowing at the sight of charred skin. He doesn’t say anything as he does, but Y/N can practically see the thoughts running through his minds at a million miles per hour. His fingers brush over the now raised skin, and when Y/N flinches, Bakugo’s fingers immediately leave her palm, causing her hand to drop.

Pushing herself up on one forearm, Y/N presses a kiss to his cheek, and she can practically feel his skin warm as she speaks, “it’s fine.”

He averts his gaze from her as her cheeks redden, “ I hurt you-”

“I’m fine.” Y/N disregards his words as she moves out from under him.

Bakugo’s brows furrow as he moves to a stand as well, “come over next weekend,” his words sound like more of a demand than an invitation.

“Sure, but can I ask why?” 

He grabs her uninjured hand, moving to bring her back inside his home, “let’s get something to help with your hand.” Bakugo doesn’t turn back as he continues, “and I owe you a picnic.”

Needless to say, it was a very nice picnic. One that Y/N left with a boyfriend.

A/N: this idea came to me at exactly 9PM

​

[xpeachesncream]

acquainted | twelve

> series masterlist | series playlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: jungkook x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 3.1k

warnings: cussing/mature language, physical fighting, some asshole-ish things are said/some degradation but i meeeeean.. look at where we’re at lol

notes: i was going to wait a little bit to post this, but my lovely anon has been waiting patiently for their namjoon x ryujin one shot request, which majority takes place in conjunction with chapter 11-12. pls check it out after you read this chapter! 

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead@bluesharksandfish@photographic-girl @yonkoghan @moonchild1​ @thebeebi​ (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

Grace knew.

A woman always listens to her intuition.

She knew when she caught that weird look you sent Jin's way during the charity event. When Jin stepped out to take a call in his car that same night. When she's seen his ring tucked away into his drawer multiple times. She knew when she's seen your name pop up on his screen more than once. She knew when the sex didn't feel the same, when Jin wouldn't touch her the same.

When he could barely look at her in bed.

Grace knew.

But she gave Seokjin a chance to tell her, to be honest. To communicate. Yet, it never came.

"G-Grace." He stutters, dropping your hand out of his grip. You stood there, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, unsure of what to do or how to look.

"I fucking knew it." She spits out. "You were seeing each other all this time." She comes closer to the both of you.

"Grace, stop. It's not what it looks like." Seokjin stupidly responds. You furrow your forehead from behind him because, what the fuck did he mean it's not what it looks like?

"How could you? Both of you?" She cries, her eyes bloodshot red. She had been crying. She was waiting. "You have the fucking nerve! You little homewrecking slut!" She yells at you, slapping you against the cheek. The heat pooling at the site causes you to gasp and look at her. You honestly don't even know what to do besides let her bed mad. What could you do? Fight back even though she was right? Hell nah.

"Grace! Enough!" He yells, grabbing her wrist. "This isn't what you think--"

"Save it, Seokjin. I got your message loud and clear." She gets out of his grip and pushes him. "You're disgusting." She spits out before storming away, but Jin goes after her. You're left standing there like a watchdog for your baggages, while Grace rips her arm from Jin's grip once again and leaves him there. You feel incredibly guilty, but also, you're pissed as fuck now.

Because again - what the fuck did he mean this isn't what you think? After all the shit he said to you last night. After this weekend?

"It's not what it looks like?" You repeat to his face. He can tell you're pissed and he shakes his head in regret. "This isn't what you think?" You take your duffle that's sitting on top of his luggage and begin to walk back towards the tram station. He attempts to pull you back, both of his hands on your arms.

"Y/N, I panicked, please don't do this--"

"You panicked? Your fianc�� smacks me on the face and you panic? What the fuck happened to being honest about our relationship? So much for I'll tell her when we get home! I look so fucking stupid.”

"Y/N, don't." He grabs your wrist and tries to pull you close.

"Jin, get the fuck off of me."

"No, stop. Y/n, please talk to me."

"I'm going home."

"Let me drive you, don't be ridiculous." You shake your head as you try to shake his grip off of you.

"Don't be ridiculous?" You scoff. "I was fine before you came into the picture, okay? I can handle myself." You finally get out of his grip and take your bag from him. "Apparently, this isn't shit to you." You spat out before you head back onto the tram to head back away from him.

"Hey, what happened?" Ryujin pulls you into a quick hug before throwing your bag in her trunk and settling back into the driver's seat. You begin to cry heavily into your hands, feeling completely overwhelmed from how things suddenly came crashing down. You had an amazing weekend with Jin, only to find out that this truly wasn't shit to him? How he couldn't even just be upfront right at that moment about your relationship? Suddenly you felt like you weren't worth it all over again. Like he was never going to leave.

Once you were able to pull yourself together enough, you told Ryujin about everything that happened this weekend up until the moment Grace showed up at the airport lot. Ryujin couldn't help but just pull you into a tight bear hug once you got into your apartment. You laid your head on her lap as she massaged your scalp and allowed you to cry as much as you needed to. She didn't wanna say it but she knew this could come crashing down the way it did. It was an 'I told you so' moment. But she knew you knew that. You didn't need to be told, or reminded. She just needed to be here for you and that's all she had planned to do, even if she had other things on her mind. You were always there for her through everything and anything; her thoughts could wait.

"I feel so fucking stupid."

"You're not. You can't help your feelings or someone, but what you can do is pick yourself up and move on. Learn from this. Do better for yourself." She responds softly.

"But, it’s him." Ryujin lightly sighs as she continues to brush your hair.

"Honey, you can't wait around forever for Jin to be ready for you or for whatever this is. You can't wait around for him to be a man and pull himself together. You've been through enough." You don't respond. "You need to talk to Jungkook before this spirals out of control. He needs to hear it from you himself."

"I will, just not now." You cried, Ryujin responding with a simple nod.

"Okay."

"This sucks. It sucks to have deep feelings for someone who doesn't even think you're worth it. He couldn't even just tell her."

"Look, I'm gonna be Jimin and play devil's advocate here. I don't know Seokjin personally like that, but part of him had to at least feel like you were worth it. I'm sure you still are, but he needs to shut this down with Grace first and that's not going to happen overnight. Not for them, especially."

"Ugh." You groaned as you continued to cry.

"It's okay. Get some rest. I'll go grab more of my things and stay here with you." She looks down at you and gives you a reassuring smile.

"I love you. Thank you." You tell her softly as you shut your eyes in hopes of getting any type of sleep.

"I love you too." Maybe you just needed time for yourself too. A breather. This was a lot, and the thing that bothered you the most was not knowing where Seokjin really stood with you. What if this was it? What if this was the moment that made him realize it was always going to be Grace all along?

"We've decided to split." Jin says, his eyes slightly red, bags visible and his body weak. He had been arguing and going at it with Grace as she had packed up most of her things. She had decided to send movers for the rest of her things throughout the week, leaving Jin feeling a little emptier than before. He called the guys over as soon as Grace was out of the house that same Sunday because he knew he didn't have much time until Grace was out there updating friends and family members about the shitty fucking excuse he was of a fiancé. On top of that, he was scared because he hadn't heard from you and he knew he fucked up - he was afraid he had lost you completely, too. That wasn't supposed to be the plan, and that wasn't how this was supposed to turn out. He wasn't sure how he'd handle seeing you in class tomorrow if you both hadn't talked by then.

"I'm sorry, is there anything we can do for you? What happened?" Hoseok sat on the barstool in front of the kitchen island, Yoongi and Namjoon quietly sitting beside him.

"I— uh, no. We just haven't worked out for awhile."

"Jin." Namjoon says softly, hinting that he should be honest with both Yoongi and Hoseok now. There was no point in hiding this anymore.

"Namjoon." He responds in the same tone. He looks over at Yoongi and Hoseok who are quietly waiting for more of an explanation. His head falls as he sighs heavily, his hands tightly gripping the edge of the kitchen island. "Fuck."

"Dude, what is it? What's going on?" Hoseok asks, genuinely concerned.

"I fucked up."

"W-what do you mean by that?" Hoseok goes on, prying him for more details. By the time Jin picks up his head and is about to explain while looking at them in the eye, he hears his front door slam loudly, the walls almost shaking with it.

"Jin!" He hears the voice call out as it came closer to the kitchen. Fuck. This-- This was the one thing he absolutely wasn't ready for. "What the fuck!" Jungkook almost growls. "How could you?!" Jungkook storms into the kitchen, fists clenched. The look on his face is something Jin will always remember - the hurt, the anger, the betrayal he felt by his own brother.

"Jungkook, listen. Let's just go outside for a minute--" Jin tries to pull him aside but Jungkook smacks his hand away.

"No, fuck you dude! Don't fucking touch me." He yells. "I trusted you! You knew how I felt about her! Why the fuck would you do that, and-and-and to Grace?!" He stutters over his words. "Why?"

"Seokjin, what's going on?" Yoongi says, climbing out of his seat to get in between the two. Namjoon is silent because this isn't his fight. He's staring Jin down as if to tell him that he needs to man the fuck up right now. He wasn't going to do it for him.

"Great, perfect. I'm not surprised they don't even know." Jungkook chimes in sarcastically as he pushes Seokjin against the counter. Jin reacts defensively, grabbing his brother's collar as he tries to push and pry him off. "Why don't you tell them how you kept fucking Y/N behind my back? Going after her and doing all this shit, getting her to spend the weekend with you in LA even though you knew how I felt about her? Let alone that you were still fucking engaged to your fiancé this entire time!" Yoongi gets in the middle, prying Jungkook off completely and stepping in between to spread some distance.

"Woah, what?" Hobi looks at him in disbelief, his face lightly turning red from how incredibly fucked this whole situation is. How things just blew up in a matter of minutes. "Is that true?"

Jin sighs, his tears welling up in his eyes as his voice cracks. "Yes, and I'm sorry for hurting you." He turns to Jungkook.

"I just--" Jungkook's tears began to fall. "I trusted you. I always trusted you. How could you do something like that when I never did you wrong?" Jungkook's bottom lip trembled.

"Jungkook, please--" Jin's tears began to fall, feeling incredibly sorry for having hurt his brother this way.

"No!" Jungkook shook his head. "What kind of fucking brother are you?" He spits out before he walks out of the house, Yoongi going after him to check up on him outside.

"Seokjin." Hobi slowly shakes his head, his facial expression full of disappointment. "You know I love you man, but why did you have to do that?"

"I-I don't know." Is the only proper he can come up with, because he doesn't. He was so caught up in his feelings for you and how things felt right, that he just pushed everything that was wrong aside.

"Look, let's just give everyone some time to breath." Namjoon gives Jin a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. No matter what, he was always going to have his back and be there for him.

"Fuck." Jin groaned as he slammed his fist against the kitchen island. "I need to talk to her. I can’t do this without talking to her.”

"Maybe Y/N just needs time to breathe, too. Give her that. I promise it'll be okay." Namjoon says.

And he's right - you do need time to breathe. You were hurt by the fact that Seokjin couldn't even come forward about you, yet he said all these sweet things to you over the weekend. It all came crashing down, and suddenly, you were questioning if this was all worth it. If you were never going to be worth it in his eyes, why would you keep stringing yourself along?

"Hey." Jimin says, gently rubbing your knee as he sat on your living room floor. "Are you sure you're okay? You've been awfully quiet."

"I'm okay. Thanks for coming over." You smiled at him toothlessly, before looking over at Ryujin and Taehyung finishing up plating the brownies in your kitchen.

"Y/N, please know that you can always talk to me about anything." Jimin says softly, knowing there was something really off about the way you had been acting. He hated prying it out of you, but he knew you'd eventually tell him when you were ready.

"Yeah, I know. Right now, I just need you here, okay?" He nods. As Ryujin and Taehyung are bringing over the plate full of brownies stacked high, a loud, aggressive knock comes to the door that Taehyung takes upon himself to open.

"Jungkook!" Taehyung yells, opening the door widely for you and him to make eye contact. You immediately stood, catching that his expression was angry. Upset. He clearly had a lot to say and you already knew he had given his brother some of it. You knew this would come; you just hoped you had a little more time.

"Y/N." He says, in a heartbreaking tone.

"Jungkook, please— can we talk about this another—" You ask, meeting him at the door.

"No, how could you? He-he was engaged to Grace— I thought we were good— Y/N." He repeats your name, unable to really complete his statements. You began to cry seeing how hurt he was. "I thought I was doing everything right."

"It wasn't you—"

"Then what the fuck was it, huh?" He spat out. "What exactly is it about my brother that made you wanna do this?"

"I didn't mean to—"

"What, you didn't mean to hurt anyone? Y/N, you obviously didn't give a fuck what this would do to anyone!" His tone rose, Jimin and Taehyung immediately coming behind you. "Grace called me crying so hard she could barely speak. You fucked this up for her, you fucked this up for me and my brother— I- just—" You began to cry harder, Jimin now gripping onto your arms as Taehyung stepped in front of you.

"Okay, that's enough. I think you should go now. You made your point clear." Taehyung said sternly, his jaw lightly twitching from how tightly clenched it was and his hand out to create some distance between him and Jungkook .

"What kind of fucking person does that? You're by far the most selfish person I have ever met. I don't know how you'll go to sleep at night knowing all the damage you've caused." Jungkook shook his head before walking off and slamming his fist against the hallway wall. Taehyung watched him walk off before shutting your door and locking it. He turned to face you but you had been sobbing against Jimin's body while he held you tightly.

"Y/N, please don't tell me this is what I think it is." Taehyung says softly.

"I'm sorry." Is all you can say. At this point, what else can you say? What's done is done.

"It's okay, we don't need to talk about this now." Jimin looked at Tae and slightly shook his head.

"Look Y/N, why don't you just go lie down? You've had a really long day." Ryujin softly chimes in. You don't say anything and instead follow Jimin to your room as he keeps his grasp around you. He plops you both onto the edge your bed, allowing you to continue crying on him.

"I'm so sorry, Jimin. I fucked up."

"Stop, why are you saying sorry? It's alright." He shushes you. Yeah, he was truly disappointed, but what was he going to do? This was entirely your life, he only played a small role in it. He just needed to be there for you and help you grow through this. No matter the circumstance, he wasn't going to look at you any differently. Same with Ryujin and Taehyung. Part of Jimin already knew this was a possibility cause he'd also catch on to the small habits in class and how completely zoned out you've been. There was a reason for everything.

Plus, randomly spending a weekend at your parents' house? He didn't think so. You hadn't visited them in awhile, and he knew you always planned your visits way in advance. You never just dropped your shit and left for home.

"I don't know what to do."

"Mm, we'll figure this out, yeah? For now, just get some rest." You backed yourself up on to the bed, catching a quick glimpse of Chance's picture before lying down. Fuck, why couldn't shit be more easy?

As you fall asleep, Jimin makes his way back out the living room where Ryujin and Taehyung are quietly cleaning up in your living room.

"How long?" Jimin asks Ryujin.

"It's been awhile, Chim."

"Why didn't she tell me or Tae?" She shrugged.

"It's not that she didn't want to. She was going to but I think she just got caught up in everything."

"So? What now? We see him in class tomorrow." Taehyung says.

"I don't know? Nothing. I'm assuming she'll just need her space for a little until she can figure out how to approach this."

"Why—why did she do this?" Jimin asks, still confused and disappointed with your actions. "She knew the mess it would cause."

"Don't tell her I told you so. That's not what she needs right now, she knows. I just, I don't know. Sometimes you really can't help who you fall for. She tried to push it aside."

"Tried?"

"Yes." Ryujin looks at Jimin sternly. "She did." The rest of the time, it's quiet. The boys had gotten the living room ready so that they could all stay with you for the night. You didn't leave your bed even after Jimin knocks to let you know dinner had arrived or when Ryujin asks if you wanna join them for a movie.

You just want sleep.

You just wanted to be alone, in this dark, and sleep.

You weren't ready to face your feelings, or Seokjin. You weren't sure where to go from here or what to do. You weren't sure how to pick yourself up. Is it fucked up to still wanna be by his side after all this time? Is it fucked up that he's still the one you want? What the fuck do you do?

Do you stay, or do you go?

[sepublic]

My Sad Dream about Luz...

           Last night, I had a really sad dream where… It was Luz back in the human world, before she met Eda and the others; And she was running down a hallway, being chased by a few bullies for something she did, but was being way too overtly punished for. And poor Luz, she was stumbling and pushing past other students, the whole hallway was filled with them; And they were all basically aware of her predicament and making fun of her! And then Luz bumped into another student, and SHE got angry at Luz and basically threw her to the ground (off-screen, we only see Luz land) before Luz has to keep running with more bullies on her trail.

           And eventually she makes it to the door leading outside but it’s locked, so she literally has to break open the glass in the doors, swinging a large object (I think a radio) at the bullies, making them pause, only for Luz to reveal that she’s just swinging it back for momentum so she can break the door opposite them! And then she barely manages to squeeze through the broken window, has to jump and climb over a few fences as the kids chase after her…

           And Luz, she manages to briefly lose them- And then for some reason (dreams are weird okay) she starts flying? She can just fly by waving her arms? And she flies above the bullies and they don’t see her, maybe she’s also invisible. Anyhow Luz is flying around, keeping track of her attackers, and as they get frustrated a teacher appears and asks what they’re doing. The bullies explain about how they’re just looking for Luz, and the teacher remarks aloud about how Luz has always been a trouble student and it just… HURTS Luz to hear this! Then my dream ended because I just woke up, but…

           …Honestly, while I can’t say Luz was outright physically harassed in this manner, I can’t help but feel like she was the occasional victim of her peers basically being bystanders to her own bullying. And being sent to the Reality Check Camp could’ve worsened things, because I imagine Luz was already not popular for causing mayhem and chaos, here or there, in her bids to be understood, express herself, maybe just attract someone who was interested… And it reminds me of this headcanon for an AU I saw (I can’t remember the exact post), where someone suggested that had Luz gone to the Reality Check Camp- She would’ve been singled out on by the people there… And they’d have likely used the “if one student messes up, everyone is punished” tactic to turn all of the other kids against Luz.

          And, in the context of my dream- I’m just imagining that as what basically led to this, because teachers weren’t just content with hurting Luz, they had to make enemies out of her peers (instead of potential friends), and that just REALLY messed her up…! It just reminds me of that speculation I had, in the month or so before The Owl House premiered; I wondered if Luz was going to stay in the Boiling Isles and had intentionally sought it out, because she had nothing back for her in the human world. Maybe Luz was an orphan with no family, no friends; And so she read about the Boiling Isles and found a way, and that’s why she’s choosing to stay… She has nothing back there in the human world to go back to, just pain and rejection; So why not stay forever in a place where she’s treated like a person and has an actual family?

           …Thankfully, it’s not that horrible in canon; Luz DOES have a mother, Camila, who deeply cares and who she clearly had a great bond with. Obviously things have soured a little in recent years, but it’s obvious that a lot of Luz’s bright and outgoing personality was encouraged by Camila, and that the two value one another. In hindsight, Luz still having ties to her human home that she wants to maintain, works for her character and its development, separating fantasy from reality while also enjoying both. And I’m glad we have the idea that while she was lonely, it wasn’t THAT bad for Luz… At least, as far as we know.

           Still, that reminds me of another portion of my dream, disconnected from the part I mentioned (because my dreams are a patchwork of completely unrelated sequences), where… Luz is running through the woods, similar to the ones behind her house, and she’s being chased by kids and gets physically accosted. But there’s a treehouse, and while the dream changed to something else; I feel like the idea was that this was an alternate opening to The Owl House, where in her attempt to avoid her bullies, Luz stumbles across the portal to the Boiling Isles. And in the context of my dream, Dana and the creators changed it to what we got in canon, for multiple reasons… This sequence would’ve been really depressing, especially the implication that to her human peers, Luz just ran away from harassment one day and just disappeared, essentially chased away from her birthplace.

          I imagine in this ‘timeline’ or whatever, those bullies would’ve REALLY gotten in trouble and been suspected a lot regarding Luz’s disappearance… And honestly, I can see this ‘dream version’ of the show having Luz never go back home, not bothering to give that closure to the people who hurt her; Because she’s happier where she is now. But thankfully, we don’t get such a cold and cruel kind of set-up/resolution, Luz still has a family, she wasn’t physically harassed (again, as far as we know), and she still somewhat chose to go to the Boiling Isles on her own terms, not necessarily under a threat. Luz found Eda and King, then Willow and Gus… Amity and the Twins, and now she’s just been so much happier as a person! She feels safe in the Boiling Isles, and on Earth too- Luz just isn’t supported there…

          Still, this reminds me of back when that one promo pic for Wing it like Witches came out, with Luz, Willow, and Gus bearing the marks of Boscha’s bullying; And then I had a brief, major grudge/vitriol against Boscha, because my mind went to the worst places and imagined Luz being disturbingly reminded of her own experiences back home, and feeling like even in the Boiling Isles, she can’t escape that kind of bullying and ostracizing and will always be a ‘freak’ and a ‘loser’… Luckily the actual context of that scene ended up not being nearly intense, and Luz quickly brushed it aside- But it really makes me wonder about Luz and her character, and the idea of her having hidden apprehensions and paranoia about rejection, about being ostracized at school again (as we see in the beginning of The First Day), etc.

          But Luz has been so supported and encouraged by others that she’s willing to take that risk, to make more friends like Willow and Gus and Amity (or at least hang out with them more), and learn magic! And I love that, Eda and King made Luz feel safe; They gave her an environment where Luz felt free to explore herself, protected from harsh repercussions and punishments, while still aware of the consequences and willing to fix any problems she caused! If she does have any trauma, triggers, and PTSD about being bullied, that follows through to the Boiling Isles; I do believe that Eda and the others can help to reassure Luz how much she means, how great she is… She already seems somewhat popular and even legendary for defeating Grom and wounding Belos!

          Luz already has all of the friends she needs, but I really think she’s earned a genuine love, appreciation, and admiration from her peers and community as a whole! Luz didn’t need that; But by her own unwitting efforts of just being true to herself, and the support and love she got… Luz no longer has to deal with a default of being ostracized and hated; Now, her default is being loved and admired, seen as amazing and legendary, and even cheered upon! And it’s such a fantastical change of pace to her; Maybe one Luz is afraid will be interrupted when she’s suddenly pulled back down to earth, reminded of what a loser she REALLY is… But no, she’s never truly been a loser, and definitely won’t be!

          She’s Luz Noceda, a human who learned magic against all odds, wounded the Emperor, changed the learning system at Hexside, destroyed Grometheus… And her accomplishments go well beyond that, and keep adding up! She’s on a roll, and this girl is unstoppable now, knows it, and is going to take advantage of this to make such a positive impact- She’s an unyielding, guiding light! Luz is weird and an utter cryptid, but this time in a way that’s meaningful and validating to her- She’s got friends by her side, has accomplished things, and is for once now emboldened to pursue her dreams, without having to worry about any delusions to distract/hinder her; Luz knows who she is, and that person is AMAZING!

[princessjungeun]

All I Need: Wendy x Reader

Request: RV Wendy scenario where her best friend since childhood goes on her first date which makes Wendy realize she’s in love with her 🥺

You scribbled random doodles onto the corners of your notebook, mindlessly humming to yourself as your teacher lectured the class. The bell was what snapped you out of your trance, indicating it was finally time for recess. A group of kids started a game of tag and you happily joined in.

“I’m gonna get you Y/N!” One of your classmates shouted as she chased you. Running as fast as you could, you ended up tripping over your own feet, scraping your knees on the asphalt.

Tears stung your eyes as you tried your best to not show that you were in a lot of pain. Your knee was bleeding, quite a lot at that. The other kids around you were too busy with their own games to see you needed help. You looked around for a teacher, but they were busy with other students, leaving you alone.

“Um...are you ok? Can I help?” A small voice spoke up a few feet in front of you. The voice belonging to a girl, she looked around your age, a book tucked under her arm. You’d never seen her before but right now you didn’t care about that, you just wanted help.

She helped you up and helped you to the nurses office. You told her “What’s your name? I’m Y/N.” She responded “Seungwan. My English name is Wendy though.” Without looking at her you looped you’re arm in hers and said “I’m gonna call you Wannie.” She looked at your arm then at you, clearly this wasn’t something she was used to.

It wasn’t the physical contact that surprised her, but the butterflies that erupted in her stomach due to the skin to skin contact. She smiled softly while looking at your arm linked with hers, you stared at her feeling the same fluttering sensation.

You hesitated before saying “do you wanna be best friends?” The girl looked at you with a bright smile “can we?” You nodded and she hugged you tight, happy she finally had a best friend.

Ever since that day nineteen years ago, you and Wendy had been inseparable. Even during the time she was a trainee, you still managed to call her when you could. The two of you never stopped talking even when she was supposed to only be focused on her debut.

Back in December of 2019 when Wendy had her accident, you were by her side from the first day. You slept in the hospital next to her bed, even though she didn’t wake up for almost a week.

Since then she’s been inactive with Red Velvet in order for her to heal properly. She was anxious and dying to get back to her members, but you as well as her family and friends always reminded her that her health came first.

Although she was having trouble not being able to work, there was one perk. She was able to see you and spend time with you almost every single day.

Like today.

You watched a random nature documentary on your couch, your kitten, Uyu, on your lap. Not taking your eyes off the screen you didn’t notice your best friend welcome herself into your place.

“Ahh the stability of these icy wastes is crucial to all life on this planet. I didn’t know that, did you Y/N?” A familiar voice filled your ears. You placed your kitten on the floor before getting up to greet your best friend.

Seungwan laughed and said “I swear Y/N I don’t know anyone that watches these documentaries that’s under the age of 75.” You pointed her to a chair so she could sit down while you poured the two of you something to drink.

“Where are you coming from? It’s 10 am, you usually aren’t up this early these days.” You sipped from your glass, raising an eyebrow at her. She responded “I had physical therapy this morning, and I have another appointment later this evening.”

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably and you asked “what’s wrong?” She responded “nothing...my body is still getting used to all the moving they’ve been making me do that’s all.”

Smiling softly you reached your hand out for her to hold, guiding her to the couch. She sat across from you, her feet resting in your lap. As usual you held one of her feet in your hand, rubbing it softly, something you’ve done for her as long as you can remember.

“Any plans today?” She asked you, petting your kitten in her lap. You responded “actually I do have plans for once...I have a date.”

Immediately you noticed she tensed up, releasing an awkward laugh. She placed Uyu on the ground and sat up, her feet now placed in the ground. Plastering a fake smile across her face she asked “Who’s the lucky lady?”

You responded as nonchalantly as you could, hoping she couldn’t sense that you were excited. “Kim Minji, you know her right?” Seungwan nodded and said “oh yeah, JiU...she’s cute.”

A awkward silence fell over the two of you before she decided to stand up. “I actually have to get going...I want to stop by the dorm to see my members before they have to leave for the day. Tell me how your date goes okay?” You nodded and before you knew it she was gone.

The second Seungwan knew about your date she felt a weird sensation in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to be happy that you finally were going on a date, but she couldn’t. Something about seeing you with another girl made her stomach turn.

Seungwan didn’t know why she felt this way but she didn’t bother to look further into it. She simply deemed these feelings as jealousy. Telling herself it would be selfish of her to only want you to herself, not realizing the true identity of her feelings.

She has in the past thought about having a crush on you, but pushed the idea aside, not wanting to think further about it. Without a doubt she felt differently about you than anyone else she knew, but she refused to admit to herself that she was in love with you. Despite the fact that this was the case, as well as you could tell.

•

•

•

Your date with JiU was actually really really nice, the two of you got along really well together. However, it was almost too well. Minji was literally like a carbon copy of you. So much so that the two of you realized being together romantically wouldn’t work.

You and Minji both were looking for someone to fill the gaps you had within your own personalities. Everything that you were, Minji also was, so everything you lacked, she did as well. You both also found that you talked more about Yoohyeon and Seungwan, than your own selves.

The two of you both ended your conversation laughing about how you both helped each other realize that you had feelings for someone else. Grateful that it turned out this way, the two of you made sure to schedule a friend date before parting ways.

•

•

•

Walking home you smiled to yourself as you thought about Seungwan. Now you realized that you did in fact have feelings for her, in more than a friendly way. You’d always pushed these feelings aside and decided that this was just how best friends loved each other. However now after talking with Minji, you realized you were in fact head over heels in love with her.

Pulling out your phone you clicked on your most recent contact:

Y/N 💞: hey i’m on the way home from my date, come over in twenty?

Wannie ❤️: i have a doctors appointment in the morning...i don’t want to stay out too late

Y/N 💞: please Wannie 🥺

Y/N 💞: you can stay overnight and i can take you to your appointment in the morning

Wannie ❤️: ok fine, i’ll be over soon

Smiling at your phone you tucked it into your pocket as you broke into a sprint. When you arrived at your apartment you quickly took a shower and did your skincare. You pulled on your favorite pajamas and cuddled Uyu while waiting for Seungwan.

After what felt like an eternity, you heard a small knock on your front door. When you opened the door, there she was looking perfect as ever. Putting on yet another fake smile, she asked “how was it?”

You pulled her inside and led her to your couch where she sat next to you. Frowning you motioned that you wanted her closer to you. She settled in between your legs, leaning back into your front. You placed a hand on her waist, rubbing her soft skin subconsciously. With a smile you told her “it was good...we get along really well.”

The amount of jealousy bubbling up within Seungwan physically pained her. She wanted to be happy for you, she truly did, but she just couldn’t.

“That’s nice Y/N, when are you two having your next date?” She tried her best to sound supportive, but hurt was evident in her tone.

You slid your hand over hers, interlocking your fingers. A smile ghosted Seungwan’s lips as you said “I’m not going to see her again, in a romantic way of course.”

She asked “why not? What happened? I thought you just said you got along well.” You told her “we do, but we get along so well that we’d be better as friends...it’s kind of funny though. We both realized we were in love with someone else.”

Seungwan’s breath hitched before asking “w-who?” You responded “you know her...she is everything I need and more. Everything that I lack, she has. She’s like my other half. I denied my feelings for her for a while and I know she’s done the same. I know she valued our relationship too much to act on her feelings and I think that made me more attracted to her...She’s all I need.”

Bringing your lips to her ear you whispered “you’re all I need Seungwan-ah. It’s you I want.” Immediately she released the breath she was holding and she said “You’re all I need too Y/N.”

You ran your thumb along the top of her and before kissing her temple softly. She pulled your arm further around her waist and looked up at you. Her eyes found yours and slowly you leaned down. Her lips captured yours and you held her tighter in your arms. She pulled away with a smile before telling you one last time.

“You’re all I need”

[cupsofsuga]

𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ━ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 *:·。.

{ ⚠️} WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers.  I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

{ ☕️} NOTE - this is in the order of the member’s obtained! thanks for the request, daisy! also, creds for idea goes to @bangtans-apollo​!!!

{ 💐} ANON ASKED - ❝ Headcanons on how the fanclub discovered each other and reacted to each other’s obsession for YN? ❞

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐈𝐍

ah, the melancholic suffering of a lovelorn teenager

how he holds nothing but an eternity in the crevices of his heart

the serene sunlight, words dripped in saccharine, cloyed gestures

nothing hurts more than praying to whatever god truly exists that you’ll return the adoration but finding the fatal fate of no response

and that leaves jin now, seething with envy that could intimidate a pack of wolves

how dare the teacher not pair you up with your soulmate!? it’s just blasphemy!

someone gets to soak in the glitter of your presence, they get to bathe in the rain after a century in sunlight

all while he has to waste precious hours of his time with some plastic nobody

he has to waste time with bland, boring kim taehyung

he’s a dull star amongst a million planets, a saturated wasteland amongst an oasis of color

and how jin’s blood burns seeing that you flash that summer smile to someone who most certainly doesn’t deserve it

ditching the dinner date with his soulmate, jin is forced to work on this godforsaken project with the loner

if only you two had run away when you got the chance, relishing in each other’s warmth as he holds the privilege of looking into your eyes, which he finds resemble dewdrops held upon spider’s silk

that is the honeyed heaven he so badly craves to taste

and as he stumbles around taehyung’s adobe, the curiosity held within jin get’s the best of him as he stumbles into his bedroom

and oh god, what secrets did he uncover

your face, his lover’s face plastered all over the walls and ceiling

some even had his face punctured out of them, some taken without your consent, one’s that jin even took himself

and there’s that one sweater you once ranted to jin how you swore it vanished into thin air, and how he teased that ghost in your attic probably snatched it

if it was physically possible, there’d be steam seeping out of jin’s ears

he clutches his fists so tight, there would most likely be blood drawn; he clenches his teeth so tightly, he fears they might crack under the pressure

but, before jin turns tail, he then sees taehyung as fear swims in his irises

and then jin feels it,

a revelation, an act of generosity

❝ i think you could be useful… ❞

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆

with every breath he takes, there lies humiliation

shame, a ruthless emotion he swore he’d never live to see the depths of

the summer amongst the dark clouds, all lied on a silver platter for your supposed boyfriend to see

but there is kindness in jin’s eyes, a sliver of evil dripped with every word he speaks

and therein, we have witnessed the blooming of the “writing club,” whose only members were lovelorn kids who’ve infatuation got the best of them

with some sugar-laced words, jin had managed to maintain a room for their meetings after school, taehyung quickly ditching his art club for these fleeting moments spent with the man closest to his love

no, taehyung had never been fond of jin, but, holds undying respect for him, anyways

his heaven lies in his words, his sunlight is seen in his eyes, the fate he craves so desperately is clutched in his hands

and it’s only so long before his grip weakens, and taehyung can rob jin of his pleasures in his moment of vulnerability

but, that future must wait as it frolics in the back of taehyung’s head

he must gain the trust of your childhood best friend before he catches his infinity like a firefly in a jar

but, with that being said, taehyung doesn’t mind all the hours he spent huddled in the tree outside your house, hiding behind a canopy of leaves as he admires the dream before him

he’ll sketch your face (which he can now draw from memory) in his notepad, ethereal poetry and doodles held around your sparkling face

he’ll snap a few photos, catching the fireworks and shooting stars in the purity of the fleeting moment

to simply have the privilege to love you silently holds the light of a million stars

oh, how he loves you…

how the earth bruises your cheeks, the moon litters your skin, the stars possess your eyes and the rings of saturn held in your touch

there’s pure bliss within every heartbeat lept

and there’s only so much time before he has you all to himself

he just hopes no burden will stop him from such…

━━━ 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊

the student’s that litter around these halls resemble parasites

all feeding off the others, annoying them with their deafening disunity, and all trailing behind others like burdens

but, there’s always been that one, that one that stands out like a sore thumb

bland, boring kim taehyung

a boy capable of summoning enough envy and rage within jungkook to crumble planets to nothing but ashes floating throughout the galaxy

how he denies his infatuation for you with red cheeks, but anyone with eyes can see those “adorable” dimples puncture his cheeks whenever he sees you in the halls

how he isn’t burdened by the overwhelming fate of unrequited love, drowning in his jealousy when you simply look at someone else

how he stalks in class you like a hawk would to prey, probably undressing you with his eyes like the freak he is!

how he simply exists, and how it makes jungkook churn with rage

and that leaves him now, dodging students as the race out of the school, hot on the tail of his rival

he must end him before he could potentially hold your heart in his hands

that single idea makes jungkook gag…

he hears taehyung’s voice, shoving a scoff back down his throat that could potentially jeopardize his identity

there’s another voice, too, but, jungkook assumes it’s another one of those art freaks who’s also pretentious with coincidences

then there’s your name, and it would’ve sounded like it was dripped in gold if it didn’t leave the mouth of his sworn enemy

and then he hears of this writing club, and jungkook seethes

these lowlifes get to breathe in the fragrance of those fleeting moments, which is a fate jungkook whose he is well-deserving of, not them

to simply touch the crevices of your soul carved in silk for just a mere second is a privilege

and letting these cretins possess that opportunity is simply unholy

despite holding a burning hatred for the rest of the memories, for you, jungkook would drag himself through the depths of hell

he just prays that the club members don’t pray too far under his skin

he doesn’t know if he can control himself.

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍

oh, y/n l/n…

an angel in the purest form, a humid june afternoon

they are a touch softer than autumn’s breeze, their word’s sharper than winter’s embrace, eyes starlit like the dreamy land of springtime, their presence like the bliss of summer and the melancholic longing after it’s demise

they hold within them the entire galaxy and namjoon can’t help but stare

but, there’s another pair of eyes

and they are burning bullet wounds into his soul with a craving to mutilate him swimming in their irises

as the bell rings its tumultuous song and deadbeat kids begin to litter the halls, namjoon is suddenly shoved against the locker by no other than the modern-day jeffrey dahmer

jeon jungkook, dust amongst a field of flowers

his sadistic pleasures and his lust for blood, the holy scent of iron that smoothes out all the creases

❝ if i catch you staring at my Y/N like that again, i’ll tear you apart limb from limb. ‘got it, dipshit? ❞

he is in all means terrifying, but, is nothing but a little boy to namjoon

time has passed, a damn near million tabs are held upon the screen all containing the history of namjoon and his family’s wealth

jin, who had been reported the incident by a fuming jungkook had found an opportunity in the depths of his teenage angst

he’ll feed into namjoon’s desire to touch you across hundreds of separating years

he’ll pray into his craving to kiss you as the naked moon sets for the final time

he’ll reach into his heart and use namjoon for his benefit

and how the rest of the members all fed off of his wealth like parasites

anything their little heart desired, they’d hold in their possession

as much as namjoon longs to deny them pleasure, he had been threatened to lose his place in the club and every inkling of access he has to you if he dared disobey

and namjoon would rather die than lose his love to the eternal night

the strange and enigmatic masterpiece, the ancient moon across a sea of stars

his violet lover has been sawed through by nostalgia, and his infatuation glows harder than a summer sunset

although jin’s intentions have a mile or two to run before they stab him in the back, namjoon still has a clear vision of his goal

and there shall be no burden before he meets his longed fate.

━━━ 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊

you, a flower itself, flood his brains like a tsunami to a pitiful city

you, a strawberry in winter, hold sly ways of slithering your way into the recesses of his heart once more

that leaves jung hoseok here, letting the teacher’s words fade to white noise as he doodles your name adorned with hearts on flowers in his notebook

there is distant gossip and whispers that echo from afar, which hoseok picks up due to his childlike curiosity

it begun with useless chitter-chatter, then dissolving to the melodic sound of your name which tumbles from their lips

he listens as the two boys curse the teacher for giving you a D on your exam, them mentioning this supposed ‘club’ that circled everything around you

hoseok was smart, he could raise your grade!

oh, how hoseok would just die to help you with your studies!

with a paradise sparkling in his eyes, he sparks up a conversation with the group, also known as kim namjoon and jeon jungkook

but, the doe-eyed teenager hisses at him, barking at him to ‘keep his fucking mouth shut’

he takes the hint, leaving the conversation with a silent ocean welling up in his eyes

but, this is the embodiment of hope that sits in this dull classroom

he’ll crawl around the corners of his soul till he’s enervate to retrieve what he has longed for

and that leads us up to now, as hoseok stalks to the two from a safe distance, watching as they disappear to the writing club

and just before the door closes, hoseok peeks through the crack of the door and finds the identity of kim seokjin, a boy he’s seen accompany you multiple times

the following day, while the students all stare in confusion for the small boy walking through the halls, hoseok finds him and confronts him

by the look of purified fear, this ‘writing club’ was a hushed secret, and him knowing of this secret was dangerous enough, as it is

after negotiating about how he’d contribute to your satisfaction, jin had no choice but to accept his offer

he doesn’t want this loud-mouthed kid to run up and down the halls preaching about their sins, anyways

the rest of the club members didn’t favor his arrival, all shooting looks of envy and hatred

but, there was no other choice

their fate is written in the stars and complimented with a wax steal upon an envelope.

━━━ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍

opening his locker, jimin finds a taste of eden’s garden as he finds your face strung upon the wall

there’s irises, rivers, fairies, and peaches within the single picture cutout from the yearbook as he sighs dreamily at the sight

his daydream of honeyed days is quickly disrupted as his best friend, hoseok interrupts his thoughts with stars circling in his eyes

before he can find the words to scold him, hoseok begins rambling about this ‘club’ at a rate to fast for jimin to decipher

he hears tales of his dreams, a chance to taste your beauty

this most definitely sparked his undying interest, ushering his best friend to continue with his intentions to get the boy warped in this world

thus, we are taken to the night where the clock reads 3:38 AM in it’s bright, neon hues

the boys would never dream of staying up this late, especially on a tuesday night as the fear for the scolding of their parents’ echos, but, the adrenaline that seeps through their veins serves as a protection

because of the prophecy of this new club, they are rebelling

and as a new day rises and the sun shimmers in all of its celestial beauty, the boys have come up with a plan

every club needs a mission manager!

and who else would be perfect for this job no other than park jimin…? right?

well, let’s just say, despite his unreasonable, childish, and almost dangerous plans, the rest of the boys weren’t happy upon his arrival

the sighs of annoyance to his careless nature, the scoffs of envy when he speaks words of poetry about everything as little as when you made eye contact that one time 2 months ago

jimin’s contribution isn’t favored, but, if it’s for you, all 6 boys are willing to drag themselves through hell and back

every member holds an undying love for the god/goddess themself, all possessing a wild heart that they’d bled dry if you asked

and jimin is just one branch of the group who also holds an intense infatuation

the water to his parched heart, the flowering spring in a winter haze

he has found the sun as it shimmers against the snow

and nothing is as holy as this.

━━━ 𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈

another dull day at the café, yoongi listens to his longing for spring’s voice

his hatred for this place burns bright and softly, as he dwells in the anger held within his small body

the college kids, the early morning joggers, all possessing ways of churning yoongi’s anger, one-by-one

obligated to put on a plastic smile for their sake has wars prancing through his head

but then, there’s you

oh, and those lively eyes he craves to gaze into for eternity and the soft furrow in your brow when you stare at the menu

he is mesmerized and listens to the songs of summer as he drowns in your stare

you haven’t taken notice to the hearts that swirl within his eyes as you order, unfortunately, and therefore leave a boy longing for a taste of the sun

during this fit of a daydream, 6 boys stumble in, all conversing at abnormally obnoxious levels

yoongi has to shove a scoff back down his throat and bring a halt to the urge to roll his eyes and dresses himself in the facade

as they all order and then continue their chatter elsewhere, yoongi can resume his illusions about your sparkled presence

whilst in the process of finishing a cappuccino, he hears the sugary melody of your name

he freezes, then concludes he must be hallucinating, resuming the process of the drink in his hands

after all, spending hours upon hours in this sacred place causes his mind to go hazy at times

the lilied waters of your eyes, skin like roses in the evening

you are so, so very loved by the boy at the café

starting up the hot chocolate with “extra sugar,” he hears it once more

does he need to stretch out his sleeping schedule or was this real?

were they truly speaking of you, or has he truly gone insane in the late afternoon?

peeking over his shoulder, that’s when yoongi sees it

your face was drawn upon a notepad, all fluttered hearts and empty petals around your face

the soul of the planets, the green pigment of the gardens, all held in this stranger’s arms

with determination, yoongi is required to learn more of this guest who spoke hushed tales of you

he’d do anything to know more about the star who enlightens his grey days

and now, the club is complete.

[smolkooks]

just a little - j. jungkook

pairing: dancer!jeon jungkook x dancer!y/n

word count: 4.1k

soulmate au, college au, dancers au, mild enemies to lovers au

warnings: none, just fluff :)

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, Lucy, don’t even worry about it,” You said into the phone, before hanging up and falling onto your bed tiredly.

You started to strip out of the fancy, pretty dark blue dress you’d gotten yourself dressed in, and then began wiping off the eyeshadow you’d spent so long doing. Your best friend Lucy had just cancelled on you—to go out with her soulmate—and even though you knew that it was okay, and you’d told her as much, it still hurt just a bit.

You’d gotten just a tiny bit excited to go to that party with her, but…

Just a tiny bit.

But you were fine.

***

At the sight of the lovesick couple a few steps down from you down the chip aisle, kissing right in front of the rack that held your favourite potato chips, you sighed and quickly turned away, feeling incredibly awkward.

Based on the golden, glowing symbols on their wrists, you concluded that they were soulmates.

Upon realising that you’d been lying on the bed for more than an hour, thinking about nothing in particular and just wallowing in self-pity, you decided to actually put on some clothes—a grey hoodie and sweatpants, throwing your hair into a loose bun—and went to the supermarket to treat yourself to some chips.

It was said that soulmates meant everything.

You had always been told about how life-changing finding yours would be, and how deeply in love you would be with them.

Usually it would be the adults who would tell it to the children, and you found it rather ironic, because what they said sounded more like what a child would say—as if it had come from the fairytale they had read the night before.

Soulmates. The idea made you want to scoff.

You had never met yours. You might never meet them, and you really didn’t care.

Perhaps you were just meant to be alone, contrary to the moon-shaped marking on your wrist that you’d been born with—not that you minded. Life had been just fine for you so far, anyway.

The moon-shaped marking was just something everyone had. Maybe it would never glow, and you were fine with that.

You are fine with that, you assured yourself, shaking your head, pointedly trying to keep your eyes off of the in-love couple, as you attempted to examine the rest of the aisle for other options, from a distance.

It was said that the universe would decide when the moon-shaped marking started to glow gold—the final reveal sign. A gold glow meant that it was the right time; from the stories you’d heard, the universe alwaysmanaged to find a way to make the gold appear at just the rightmoment to reveal your soulmate. It usually wasn’t right after meeting—somehow, it only glowed when the time was right.

You heaved another sigh, turning away from your favourite chip aisle, having decided to sacrifice your chips for just one day, seeing as the couple had not left.

It had been a good five minutes, and they were still kissing. Didn’t it get boring, to do that for so long, in a grocery store, no less?

As you grabbed some other brand of chips from the clearance shelf (not as good as what you’d wanted, but it wasn’t worth interrupting that couple, regardless of how delicious they were) and headed to the checkouts.

Instinctively you headed to the self-checkouts, wanting to avoid as much social interaction as possible, particularly at this late—almost morning—hour of the night.

When you reached to grab your chips, the moon on your hand seemed to be taunting you—and you wanted nothing more than to scrub it off, even if you knew that you physically couldn’t.

The frustration suddenly built up—from what, you weren’t sure. You blamed it on the fact that you hadn’t been able to get your favourite chips, even though deep inside you knew it was more than that.

“Stupid,” You muttered, slamming the moon mark—and your wrist—against the check-out screen, harder than you’d intended, ending up squatted on the floor, clutching your wrist.

You were lucky that you had chosen the self-checkouts, otherwise that would have been far more embarrassing than it already was.

When you got home and switched on the lights to your quiet apartment, your very small, but neatly organised kitchen came into view, and even as you sat yourself down on top of the kitchen bench, ripping into the bag of chips (not your favourite, but sufficient), you couldn’t help the feeling that overcame you.

No matter how much you tried to deny it.

Loneliness.

***

You knew you looked pitiful when you walked into your class that morning.

It was a small one—this class only consisted of your dance troupe. You studied dance because you loved it, and your troupe was probably the only thing you liked about studying.

Even though you rarely spoke of it to anybody, you were a pretty great dancer. You even dared to say it was the only thing you were good at.

Contemporary was your favourite—and you also loved designing the costumes you and your troupe (consisting of the people in your class) would wear. It was a mixture of boys and girls, and you genuinely enjoyed dancing.

You were even top of your class. Front and centre—again, it was the only thing you liked doing.

“You look pitiful,” Lucy said to you, and you only shoved her shoulder playfully, taking your seat next to her, “What did you even do?”

“I stayed up,” You answered, rubbing at your eyes as you took out your books, slamming them onto the desk, “Eating chips. Ran into a couple at the supermarket though. They were blocking my favourite chip flavour, and I had to get the discount ones instead.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“How was your date with your—,”

Before you could get the words out, the professor knocked on your desk and told you sternly to pay attention. Effectively silencing the both of you.

Lucy shot you an apologetic look, but you just shrugged, before leaning your head on your hand, and staring glumly at the whiteboard your teacher was writing on.

You usually liked theory. If you weren’t running on two hours of sleep, and a bag of potato chips.

Right now, you couldn’t help but close your eyes—and then you were out. Your teacher didn’t even bother to wake you up.

It was after class was over that you realised how much of a mistake that was—because you’d missed out on all of the information about the boy’s school that was joining your class for the next two weeks—and the boys’ troupe that they would be bringing with them.

***

It was on Sunday evening when you received a text from Lucy telling you to remember to wear the formal uniform to class tomorrow, instead of just free dress like you all usually did.

You wondered why, but didn’t question it. The teachers called abrupt formal assemblies all the time, as bothersome as it was, and the students had learnt to deal with it over time. You swore that it was just a way to get the students to suffer in the uncomfortable formal blouses and ties.

It was when you walked into class that you realised this was no assembly.

The entire class was dressed in their formal white shirts and blue-silver ties, and at the front of the class stood a row of boys in the fanciest uniforms you’d ever seen—far more expensive-looking than even the most expensive clothes you owned.

“Y/N,” Your teacher announced sharply, “You’re late.”

“Apologies,” You responded, “Miss. I wasn’t aware that we had—,”

“If you hadn’t fallen asleep in the previous class, Miss Y/L/N, then you would have been aware,” The teacher cut in, gesturing to your seat next to Lucy, “Sit down.”

Your cheeks burned as you made your way to your seat, dropping your dance bag onto your desk with a heavy ‘click’, sinking into your chair as you surveyed the group of boys that were stood at the front of the room.

There was seven of them, and you had to admit that each one was incredibly beautiful. All seven of them.

But there was one of them that was snickering at you—the one standing to the very right. Subtly, you flipped him off, and he only raised his eyebrows at you, mouthing the words, Nice tie, at you.

Resisting the urge to hiss, you just forced yourself to sink further into your chair, before realising that you had forgotten to tighten your tie before you’d left—and you slid further into your seat, hoping to just melt into the floor.

Your teacher’s words became a blur in your head.

“Y/N! Are you paying any attention?” The teacher said, frowning, catching your attention immediately, “Get out of your seat to go change, we’re pairing up for warm-ups today!”

“Sorry, miss, I just—,”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately,” The teacher said, shaking her head, “You’re top of the class, please act like it—I would be far more satisfied with you if you showed up to class on time. You’ve been showing up late very often lately, Y/N. Is anything the matter?’

“Nothing,” You said glumly, struggling to meet your teacher’s eyes. You hated it when you disappointed her. She was your role model, and you’d tried your best to show up on time this time—you knew it was your third time late in a row, but it was because you’d been finding it harder and harder to sleep lately…consumed in thoughts.

“Good,” The teacher said, although she didn’t look all to convinced, “Please, show the boys what you’re capable of, okay? They’re from practically fanciest school in the country, you wouldn’t want to sell yourself short, would you?”

At those words, the image of the snickering, insufferable boy immediately appeared in your mind, and you clenched your fist, immediately determined to prove that you were top of the class for a reason.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

***

The choreography that your teacher started you all on was pretty simple. You picked it up after two run throughs, but the insufferable, snickering boy did it in one.

“So, how’s the dance going?” He said with a boyish grin, as he uncapped his water bottle and took a big gulp, running a hand through his dark brown hair, “Y/N.”

“Don’t start.” You said, gritting your teeth.

“I didn’t even say anything yet,” He said, raising his eyebrows, leaning in a tiny bit closer, “Are you thisangry all of the time?”

“Only when you’re around,” You snapped back, taking a big gulp from your own water bottle.

“Oh, no need to be so mean, Y/N,” He noted, the corner of his lip curling into a smirk, “You’re a good dancer.”

He didn’t even have to say the words, the look in his eyes was challenge—answer—enough: But I’m better than you.

That only made the determination and anger in you burn more. You were better. You would be better, even if you weren’t. You would show him.

“Jungkook!”

The both of you turned to the direction of the voice, and approaching was one of the boys from the fancy school.

“Stop messing with her,” The other boy frowned.

So Jungkookwas the name of the insufferable, snickering boy who wouldn’t stop mocking you.

“Taehyung, you’re no fun,” Jungkook responded, giving his friend a playful shove, “I’m not messing with her, just making conversation.”

You bit down on your lip hard, to bite back the snarky remark that would have been considered rude to most ears—and you didn’t need to make a bad first impression on allof the boys…you wondered if maybe you already had.

“I’m Tae,” The other boy said, sticking out a hand, shooting Jungkook a pointed glare, “You’re Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” You said, with a half-smile, ignoring Jungkook’s stare burning into the back of your head, “Nice to meet you.”

“I heard you’re the leader of the troupe here, huh?”

“I guess, kind of,” You said, “But I show up late more times than I can count on my fingers.”

“Can’t you count in your head?” Jungkook called out with a half-snicker.

“Shut up,” You said, rolling your eyes—despite your annoyance, you couldn’t help the slight—only tiny—bit of amusement that slipped into your voice, and you knew that Jungkook noticed it.

“So you dolike me,” He said, raising his brows.

And just like that, the amusement was gone.

“No.” You said sharply, giving Taehyung an apologetic smile, at having cut your conversation short, before you marched off to the other side of the room, where the rest of your class—and Lucy, your best friend—was sitting down, resting.

Over the next several few days, your constant bickering with Jungkook only got worse. Each trying to best the other—you beat him as many times as he beat you, but he was particularly good at hip hop. There was only one other boy in his troupe better than him at hip hop, who was Hoseok. Hoseok contributed in a lot of the choreography, too, and he was a happy face, one that you had grown familiar with and quite enjoyed the company of.

He was very clever, and his choreo was admittedly incredible.

You learned later that the purpose of this combined class was to make some sort of dance together, as a combined troupe—just as an experiment. It was all in good fun, but there would be a performance scheduled for you all, in three weeks’ time.

Which was enough for you to learn the choreo and get it to a decent level—you just had to make sure that you learnt it far better than Jungkook.

But with both of you trying to best each other, it really wasn’t easy. Particularly when you two were clearly so balanced.

The entire class could tell—they became so accustomed to your bickering and constant arguing over who was the better dancer that Lucy claimed she had started to unconsciously block it out whenever the two of you would start shooting insults at each other.

Nobody seemed to be able to tell if it was genuine annoyance between the two of you, or if it was just playful, but Taehyung seemed convinced that the two of you argued in class but ran off to make out afterwards—where he got that idea from, you had no idea, but you’d made sure to give him a good smack over the head when he’d told you that the whole class agreed with him.

“As if I would ever do that,” You’d scoffed at him, picking up your things to head over to the change rooms after a particularly tiring training session, “He’s not worth the time, Tae. He’s just irritating.”

“I don’t know, he’s not so bad,” Hoseok butted in, having overheard your conversation, “I would think that the two of you were in love, too, if I hadn’t known that you dislike him.”

Groaning you said, “It doesn’t matter, anyway. We’re not soulmates or anything.”

“You never know.” Taehyung said, with an eyebrow wiggle, and you smacked him over the head again for that comment.

***

Heading to your favourite chip aisle, you were prepared to finally buy your favourite chip flavour, but when you reached the shelf, and at last, looked up from your phone, you collided into a familiar face.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, getting up with a groan, “I didn’t expect to see youhere!”

You grumbled, “Yeah, no, I didn’t expect to see you here either, Jungkook.”

You stood up, and he stood up, and the both of you reached for the same packet of chips. Your favourite flavour.

The last bag of your favourite flavour.

There was no way he was going to take it from you—you jumped, snatching it from the shelf—just as he did, too, and both of you just fell over, tripping over each other into a pile of tangled limbs.

You ended up on top of him, panting heavily as you tried to wrestle the chips from his grasp, “Jungkook, let go.”

“They’re mine,” He responded, attempting to free himself from under you, but you pinned him down.

“Give the chips back, Jungkook,” You demanded, using your knee to hold his wrist in place.

He grinned, “Never, Y/N. Let go of me and my chips. I’m just trying to get out of here in one piece.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve resisted eating junk food just to eat that one bag of—,”

“And you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to buy these, too!” Jungkook exclaimed, incredulous, “That’s not an argument. We’re both dancers, we both have diets, and we’ve both been waiting for a long time to have these.”

He just lay there for a second that seemed to last longer than just a second, and he scanned your face intently.

Your face flushed at his gaze, and you pressed your knee down on his wrist harder to quell your blush, just a little bit, pinning his other wrist down with your hand so that he couldn’t wriggle away with that bag of chips, “Just give me the chips,” You sighed, exasperated, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Y/N, you’re the one who has me pinned on the ground of a grocery store just for a bag of chips—,”

“Shut up and give them to me—,”

“Fine! I’ll give them to you.”

Your face brightened in surprise, “Wait, what, really, that easily—?”

“If you share them with me,” He finished, grinning at the shock that outlined your features, “Come to my apartment and we’ll split them very evenly. Don’t worry, I won’t cheat.”

“Fine,” You said, after thinking it over, and then you started getting off of him, and the moment you were on your feet again, off of him, he rubbed at his wrists. You noted that he still didn’t let go of that bag of chips.

“Damn, you have an iron grip, Y/N,” He said, hissing a bit, “How did you even hold me down? I was genuinely trying to get up, you know.”

“Sorry,” You said sheepishly, smiling in a slightly embarrassed way, “It’s just the result of years of training.”

He studied you for a split-second, and you swore you saw him blush just a tiny bit, before quickly getting up from the floor and taking your hand—dragging you to the checkouts.

You almost hissed at the contact, not because it was bad—not at all.

You almost hissed because it was nice.

Just a tiny bit.

***

“I don’t know, this apartment seems far too old to be yours,” You commented, as he pushed open the door.

“What were you expecting? I’m a scholarship child, not a rich kid, not even close,” He said with a chuckle, directing you inside, kicking away some dirty laundry in the process—his school uniform, chucked on the floor, right next to the TV.

“Did you get in with dance?”

“Yeah. I was kind of good at it, and then I met Hoseok in middle school and he basically taught me, I didn’t have the money to go to lessons. And then it was through dance that I met the other boys,” Jungkook began explaining easily, as he took out two Ziploc bags, “Here, see, one for you, one for me.”

You leaned over the kitchen counter to watch him carefully. It wasn’t to be close to him or anything—no, obviously not—it was just to make sure that he didn’t cheat. It was just that.

You assured yourself it wasn’t because of how nice it’d felt when he’d held your hand. No, no way. He was your competition; he was your—

Opening his kitchen drawer, he started rifling around, and pulled out a sharpie, labelling the bags, ‘Y/N’, and ‘JK’.

He opened the chip packet, and the both of you sighed in satisfaction at the smell that puffed out. Immediately, he began carefully distributing the chips until the two bags were relatively even.

“There,” He lifted your bag from the counter and passed it to you, “See? Fair, right?”

He was right. He hadn’t cheated, and the smile that he gave you was too genuine to not be real, right?

You wondered why he was being nice. Not that he’d ever been mean, but…the two of you had always had some sort of competitive air between you. What with the both of you being terrifyingly competitive people—and also the fact that neither of you wanted the other to harm your reputations (or rather, egos).

Suddenly, Jungkook didn’t feel like competition anymore. Not with how carefully he’d split the chips, not with the smile he was giving you now, not with how—

Not with how hard your heart was pounding when he met your eyes.

It’s nothing, you assured yourself. It’s nothing, nothing, nothing.

And then he set the bags down, pulled out his phone and said, “Y/N, do you want to dance with me? Let’s do some practice, how about that?”

“W-what?” You broke out of your trance, giving him a confused look, “Why?”

“I mean, we’re both here, right? And I’m going to drive you home, anyway,” He said, shrugging, “Might as well make the most of this time. Do you need to get back anytime soon? Have plans?”

“Not really,” You responded, biting your lip, “But—,” Jungkook was your competition. Not your friend. Right? You definitely didn’t likehim, right?

“C’mon,” He said, pleadingly, “Just once? I just want to dance with you and not argue, for once, as much as I love your sass.”

At that, you blushed a little, and then said, “Okay. Only once, though. And then you’re taking me home.”

He looked as happy as a puppy then, when you agreed.

He put on a song you didn’t recognise, but it had a steady, even beat that the two of you were easily able to choreograph something to, and then you started running it—you hadn’t been this close to him before, and it made you feel strange.

Well, other than just two hours ago, when you’d pinned him to the supermarket floor for taking your chips, but—

You broke out of your thoughts when he took your hand, and met your eyes—just a part of the choreography just a part of the choreography just a part of the choreography

But your heart was taking none of it. It was racing faster than you had when you jumped to grab those damn chips from Jungkook.

No, that thought wasn’t helping, either. It only made it race faster, and that was the last thing you needed now—you definitely didn’t need that thought lingering in your brain right now, not when Jungkook was looking at you like that—

“Stop looking at me like that,” You demanded, but it came out soft, far softer than you’d intended, and you cursed internally at the effect he had on you, just because of the proximity.

“Like what?”

No, no, that wasn’t helping—his eyes held such intensity as he looked at you, twirling you like you’d choreographed, but you hadn’t planned for your heart to be racing this fast, for your breathing to be this quick…

“Like that,” You breathed, the words barely making their way out of your throat, almost getting stuck halfway.

He smiled, and you bit your lip, holding back the words—you’d only ramble, and then that would ruin the moment, but…

“Don’t be so nervous, Y/N,” He said, softly, gently, spinning you back around.

When he raised your arm above your head to dip you, your sleeve slipped up, only to reveal the moon on your wrist—glowing bright gold.

Not even a second later, the moon marking on his wrist lit up, as well—and suddenly, everything clicked.

Everything else stopped—except for the two of you, as you gazed at each other, the room illuminated in the gentle golden glow of your moons.

“Jungkook,” You murmured, still breathless, lost in his eyes—gold from reflecting the light emitting off your wrists

And then your lips met—and then you were kissing, and it felt so incredibly differentto anything you’d ever felt before.

It was soft—and yet so filled with passion, at the same time. Something you hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

So incredibly different—not just a little bit.

Not just a little bit.

(my first fanfic! hope you all enjoyed <3)

[angstyryguy]

A Digital Fever

no pairings

no spoilers for anything in the series, it’s just somewhere during season 1

themes: whump, sickfic

words: 3668

Summary:

Ryan is a Walker and Walkers do not get sick. So when Ryan goes to school with a high fever and his powers in turmoil, what else can happen than something bad?

******

A common cold was not something the Ryan Walker could have. He didn’t get sick. That was his whole thing.

...Apart from the whole “controlling technology with his mind" of course. That was still an important thing.

Oh, and the fact that he was one of the pilots of Mech X4…

Yeah, he actually had a couple of things, but that was beside the point. The point was, he didn’t get sick, so now that his nose was a little runny and his brain was a little slow as he woke up from the infuriatingly loud blaring of his alarm clock, he was fine. It didn’t matter that he swayed a bit as he stood from his bed, or that he didn’t feel like eating his mom’s newest experimental breakfast food. Everything was totally– 

“Hey, you okay Ry-guy?”

“Fine.”

Ryan and Mark were seated at the kitchen table as their mom was preparing the batter for her food truck's famous pancakes. She eyed Ryan with her scanning motherly eyes as her spatula was frozen mid-spin in the bowl. She didn’t look convinced in the slightest.

Ryan quickly grabbed his fork to stuff his mouth with eggs. He looked her in the eyes as he chewed. See? he tried to show his mom, I’m totally fine. 

She sighed and set about mixing her batter again, seemingly content enough that he was at least eating now. He was glad her motherly instincts didn’t mean she could actually read minds. He really didn't want her to know just how hard it was to swallow even the smallest bite. His stomach turned even as he thought about it.

He shuffled his food around on his plate with his fork for a bit, making it seem as if he had touched more of it than just that one bite, and then quickly left the kitchen table. He grabbed his bag just as Mark scraped his plate clean. Show off. 

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” Ryan said, already heading out of the door. He couldn’t actually go to school without Mark, since he was his ride, but acting like he was leaving without him helped with the pressure to get Mark to follow. He wanted this day to be over as quickly as possible. Mark gave a quick goodbye smile to mom and dashed off after Ryan, his own bag sloppily thrown over one shoulder.

“Hey wait up!”

------------------

School was dreaded for a reason, but when you were definitely not sick, it was even worse. The first half of the day went by slow, like really slow, but manageable. Lessons were boring, teachers were not too terrible and the low buzz of the school board, the computers, smartphones and lamps were not too distracting. 

No, if only lessons had been his school day, he would have survived it.

But he hadn’t thought about lunch time. The canteen was filled with chaos and noise. His mind felt like it was being crushed little by little with every yell and every time someone laughed. All the phones of all the students were buzzing and ringing and going off at the same time, or at least it felt like it. Nails tapped on screens and batteries hummed in disharmony. The constant noises pained his ear drums and filled his head with a hundred stabbing needles.

He was so overwhelmed from the sound, he couldn’t help but flinch a little when suddenly a hand patted him on his shoulder.

Spyder appeared before him. “Are you gonna stand in the doorway the whole time?" A mischievous grin spread on his face. "Because I will gladly take your sandwiches if you aren’t up for it you know? Maybe then I can finally build a tower of cheese. Man, I have always wanted to do that.”

Harris punched Spyder in his side. “No one’s taking Ryan’s sandwiches, dude. Now, are we gonna go to our table or what? I want to finish up on my project before the next term starts.”

Ryan softly shook his head to get rid of the slowly creeping nausea and to try and shake away all the sounds, but he wasn’t successful at all. No matter, he could hold on until he could be home and safely in his bed again. Just half a day left.

“Yeah, yeah let’s go, I’m starving.”

The trio sat at their usual table and as always, Spyder and Harris lost themselves in a debate over something incredibly stupid. This time it was about the best kind of sandwich to ever exist. Spyder insisted that his abomination of a sandwich, with salmon, cheese, peanut butter and chocolate spread, topped off with a little bit of mashed potatoes, was the most delicious thing in the world. Meanwhile Harris was sure that combination of flavors shouldn't even be legal.

Ryan sighed as he tuned out the voices of his friends and instead took out his phone. Maybe some dumb video's would help him ignore his throbbing headache for a while. He clicked on one of Cassie's reports on the school's kickbox team. Of course, his brother was the big star of the video, and normally he didn't like watching Mark get so much praise, but he couldn't care less right now. He just had to watch something. Anything to distract himself.

Just as Cassie went over the most recent victory of the team, a loud voice broke through it.

"Hi sweetie, how's your first day?" The voice was loud, but Ryan was sure it came from the other side of the canteen, where a freshman was calling with his mom. Why would he set the call on speaker?

Ryan turned back and ignored it, but soon another sound interrupted his video. The annoying 8-bit soundtrack of a mobile game echoed through his mind, the sound of clashing swords and yelling characters making it even more annoying. What stupid kid let his sound on extra loud when he was gaming during school break? A drop of sweat slid down his temple. Cheering rang in his ears as the kid cleared his level and it hurt. It was loud and awful and his head was swimming and throbbing and pulsing with every beat. 

Ryan shivered in his thick hoodie.

"No dad, you don't have to pick me up," another student said as he was calling from a few tables away.

Ryan huffed and kept staring at his phone, even though the he didn't register anything Cassis said in her video. He still kept trying.

Tap, tap, tap. In the row for the food, someone was texting their friends, every tap with their thumb banging against his skull.

Ryan looked to his left. A teacher was checking his news feed, sirens wailing,  people screaming, shouting - some video about the most recent monster attack. To his right, a girl was filming a video with her friends, laughing, playing music, typing a caption and then laughing again. They were so loud.

More videos, more games, more typing, more voices. Every second it got louder, every second it seemed to penetrate further and further into his mind.

Tap Tap Tap. 

Screaming.

Laughing.

Sirens.

Cheering.

Tap Tap Tap. 

Ryan clutched his phone tighter and shut his eyes, willing for the ever growing buzzing of the lamps and phones and laptops and screens to stop.

It all had to stoppleasestopit'stoomuchtooloudMAKEITSTOP-

The sizzling of something burning made his mind snap out of it. Ryan quickly looked down where his phone lay in his hands, broken and blackened, a small trail of smoke coming from it.

Oops. 

His eyes darted up to look if anyone had seen that - and to his relief no one did - so he quickly hid his phone under the table and let it slide into his bag. He would deal with that later.

Since he had no way of distracting himself anymore, and the sounds around him were now even making his vision grow wobbly as they pounded against his brain, Ryan knew he had to make a run for it. It was not like he had actually wanted to eat school food anyway, so no loss there.

"Hey guys?" He said, his left arm smoothly disappearing under the table. "I think I left my mech-link in the classroom. I'll go get it. See you later okay?"

Before the other two could answer, Ryan stood up and turned around, tucking his left arm in the pocket of his hoodie so they couldn't see his mech-link still nicely around his wrist. Briskly, he walked away, ignoring how his eyes couldn't focus or how he could throw up any second. He was fine.

--------------

Okay, maybe, just maybe, Ryan was not fine. After the small incident with his phone, he had accidentally also fried the teacher's smartwatch during PE when the teacher had blown his whistle right next to Ryan's ear out of nowhere. On top of that, he had also derailed someone's electronic car when he had been waiting on Mark outside of the school and the speakers had blasted the ringing bell right above his head. So you could say he was a little bit jumpy and a lot bit nauseous, and maybe not totally fine, but he would manage. He was Ryan Walker and Walkers didn't get sick.

Whatever. It didn’t matter if he finally admitted to himself that something was wrong, because as soon as school was out, he and Mark had headed straight to Mech X4 when they had gotten a monster alert.

Sick or not, Ryan was the only one who could stop it, so he had to power through. He could do this. Probably. Maybe.

As the gang made their way out of the awful elevator and to their stations, Ryan had to physically swallow down the urge to puke. That elevator hadn't helped in the slightest.

Ryan clicked the belt around his middle and the robot rose from its hiding spot. A rough cough came from him as he tried to move the robot into kneeling position, but he played it off as an awkward cough instead of the start of bile rising in his throat. He had to concentrate or otherwise he'd short-circuit the robot.

However, the miserable attempt didn't go unnoticed. 

"Hey man, you okay?" Spyder asked from behind him.

Ryan nodded, but regretted immediately as his head spun with the sudden motion.

"Yeah, of course, I'm fine," he said and readied his feet to jump. Spyder seemed to want to ask something else, but Ryan cut him off. 

"Mech, Execute!" he yelled and jumped away. Now was not the time to worry about himself. They had people to save.

"The monster just popped up next to the river at the other side of the city, what would it want there?" Harris asked out loud. He was furiously typing and checking the screens as he followed the beast's movements on his maps. "Wait, where is it – oh. Oh no."

Mark bent over the rails to look at the screens. "What? What is it dingus?" 

"The monster! It's heading straight for us! How is it so fast?!"

Ryan's head shot up when he noticed the beast flying straight at them at a rapid speed. "Guys, it's here!"

He barely had enough time to raise his arms in front of his head before the monster crashed right into them, hitting Mech X4 with such devastating force that Ryan was shot into the air, a couple of cables exploding behind him from the rough impact.

"Ryan are you okay?!" Mark yelled.

Ryan swallowed and lifted his head from the cold floor. "Yeah I'm good," he said as he carefully stood up again. The giant monster in front of them was already readying itself for the next attack.

Ryan rolled his shoulders and raised his fists in fighting position. He ignored the cold sweat building on his forehead. "Let's finish this quick. Spyder?"

"One plasma punch coming right up." Spyder slid his chair back from the desk and grabbed a hold of his weapon arm.

"Ready?"

"Ready!"

Ryan and Spyder simultaneously drew back their arms and swung them back as Mech X4 did the same with his glowing fist. The monster had been distracted, working up the power to hit again, but was instead swept off his feet when the fist hit full force. It fell to the ground with a large growl, but was still moving.

"Again!" Ryan yelled, already jumping up again to do it.

"Wait dude, it needs to recharge first, we need to buy some time!" Spyder frantically punched his buttons as he read from the screen. "If we do it now, it will be like a grandma punch!" He stopped mid-punching his buttons as he thought about something. "Wait. Nevermind, my grandma would punch this dude into tomorrow. Okay what about, if we used it right now it would be like if Harris punched it!"

Harris spun in his chair with a "not cool, son," before he got back to his scanning and getting up the shields. Mark and Ryan silently grinned. It was an accurate comparison.

"Okay, Harris, how are we with the shields?"

"Almost done and… now they're up!"

And just in time too, because as soon as Ryan turned back to the large window, he saw the monster getting back to his feet again. It let out a low growl as its wings spread out in warning.

"Get ready, he's coming back!"

The robot stepped back as Ryan raised his fists and braced for the next attack. The monster darted forward, its claws barely missing the chest of the robot as Ryan ducked out of the way. Then, it lifted itself on his back legs and rose into the sky, its wings harshly pushing away the wind. As the gang was too distracted by the strong winds that almost pushed the robot off his feet, they didn't see the tip of the monster's tail, heading straight for the head. It clashed against the shield and bounced back, while in the process it successfully pushed Ryan and the robot out of balance, both failing to the ground with a thud.

Ryan grunted his way through the pain as he got back up. They were almost done with this and then he could hide himself in his blankets for the rest of the day. Almost there, almost done.

The beast lashed out again as it clawed against the shield. It seemed to try to rip it open.

"The shields won't hold this for long! Spyder is the plasma punch ready?"

"Almost…" Spyder tapped impatiently against his desk, his eyes glued to his screen.

"Ryan watch out!" Mark yelled. Ryan lifted his arms in front of his head just as the monster ripped away the shield, the pixels giving way as the energy ran out. The monster flew forward and extended its claws as it headed for the head. Without the shields, all Ryan could do was hold his ground and cover himself, not even finding an opening to strike back.

"Spyder?!"

"Almost…"

The beast struck out with a right hook and got around Ryan's defenses, punching the robot hard against his head. Ryan whipped back from the impact and clutched his jaw. That hurt. His eyes watered and refused to focus anymore. A shiver ran down his spine, even if he himself felt like he was burning from the inside.

"Spyder?!"

"I'll say when it's ready!"

The monster hit again and again, sparks flying around the control center as Ryan bounced around in his harness. He was literally being beaten to a pulp and all his strength failed him. He was too weak. 

He was… not fine at all.

Mark was pacing across the deck, checking his screens and performing quick damage control. "Spyder, we can't take much more!"

Spyder spun in his chair and pulled back his attack handle. "It's ready!"

Immediately, Ryan stumbled to his feet and raised his fists. Please let this be the final attack, he wished desperately. His mind screamed at him to never move again and just give up, but he just had to do one more thing. Just this one thing. He could survive that. Ryan jumped into the air and brought his fist down with so much force that his knuckles burned. The hit landed, the robot's fist piercing straight through the monster's chest as it de-transformed into ooze and splashed to the ground. 

For a moment it was quiet, and then the team of Mech X4 burst out in cheers. They had finished it! Ryan smiled weakly as he sighed. His muscles burned, his vision swum, but they had done it. Finally. He wiped his sweat of his brow and roughly dropped to the floor, his legs giving out from under him. Now on his knees, he unbuckled his belt and let the harness fly up into its storage. When his hand returned from the motion however, something caught his eye. There was red on his hand. His eyes widened. There was blood on his hand. he was bleeding. That monster must have done more damage than he thought.

“Hey guys…” he said, his voice weak and barely audible. No one heard as the rest of the team congratulated each other with their victory. Ryan shivered.

“Guys…” was the final thing he said before he crashed down onto the floor, his vision and mind going blank as he did not even notice how all the lights and screens in the robot flickered and died out with him.

--------------

“...Ryan.”

“Ryan!”

“RYAN!”

Ryan jolted awake and immediately regretted it as he bend over and lost his diner from the day before. Someone patted him on the back as he retched, but his eyes were too blurry with tears to see who it was. Lights flickered around them.

The same hands placed him back down on the bed when he was done, wiping his forehead with a cold towel. Ryan sighed and closed his eyes again, already worn out from keeping his head upright.

“Get well soon…” Someone said and then he fell asleep once more.

---------------

The next time he woke, he didn’t get the urge to puke as soon as he opened his eyes. That was good news at least. A little dazed, he looked around the room. The Medbay. Of course.

“Guys! Guys, he’s awake!” Spyder’s voice yelled from too close next to him. In reflex, Ryan shut his eyes tight and groaned, his head not happy with the loud noise.

Two sets of footsteps entered the Medbay as the door slid open.

“Bro, are you okay?!” Ryan opened his eyes and saw Mark rushing towards him, sitting down next to the bed and placing a warm hand on his shoulder. On the older shoulder came Harris’ hand as his best friend shot a worried look at him.

“You scared us buddy,” he said and slightly squeezed his shoulder.

Ryan smiled weakly as he closed his eyes and sighed. “Sorry about that…”

“Do you wanna tell us what happened?” Harris said, his attention already going to the screens next to the bed to check on Ryan’s vitals.

Ryan slowly opened his eyes. “Guess that monster was stronger than I thought.”

“Nah man, that was like a level 5 monster. It wasn’t even made of the red ooze, just the orange,” Spyder said with a shrug, “You normally beat down level 10 monsters with ease.”

“Where did you come up with this rating system?” Harris asked confused.

“It’s just what the collector’s cards say, I didn’t make it.”

“We have collector's cards?” Mark asked eagerly.

Harris shot them both an incredulous look before he turned his attention back to Ryan with an eye roll. 

“The scanners are picking up a high temperature, on top of signs of dehydration and not enough nutritions to give your body the energy to heal as fast. Ryan, did you eat at all yesterday?”

Ryan averted his eyes to stare at the scanner beside him. “I didn’t.”

Mark furrowed his eyebrows. “Dude, why wouldn’t you eat anything and still go to fight? Are you stupid? You could have die–”

Ryan flinched as Harris stopped Mark with a gesture of his hand. He shook his head at the older one of the Walker brothers.

“Ryan,” he said, his tone far more calm than Mark’s, “why didn’t you just say you were sick? We could’ve found another way to defeat the monster.”

“No we wouldn’t!” Ryan snapped, his eyes widening as soon as the words left his mouth. he hadn't meant to say it in that tone. He sighed. “Look, just, we all know that we need the robot to defeat the monsters and that we can do nothing with the robot without my powers. I had to fight. It was the only option. And honestly?” Ryan slowly pushed himself in sitting position with his arms. “I was fine doing it. Just got a nasty wound, that’s all.”

Harris shook his head. “This wasn’t just a nasty wound Ryan. On top of your fever, you have several bruised ribs and a large wound to your head. You’re lucky it was mostly superficial or it could have done serious damage to your brain.”

Mark nodded and patted Ryan’s head while Ryan weakly tried to push him off. “You hear that Dingus? No more fighting when you have a fever alright?”

Ryan successfully swatted away Mark’s hand. “Yeah, yeah.”

“You have to promise.”

“I promise Mark, I promise.” Ryan smiled softly and looked at his team. “Thank you though.”

“For what?” Spyder asked.

“For caring about me like this,” Ryan said and lay back down. He was tired. “I really don’t know what I could’ve done without any of you guys…” His voice got quieter as his eyelids closed, but before he fell asleep he still heard the “awww’s” around him. Yeah, he would definitely get teased about this later. 

For now though, he meant it. 

He loved his team.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

It’s All About The Game (Part 3)

Pairing: OC X Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Genre: High School AU, Enemies to Lovers, Sports Fiction

Warnings: Smut and Language

Word Count: 12K

Summary: Changbin is back from his family’s villa and Kayda is surprised that the handsome boy is still interested in pursuing her. Kayda, encouraged by her new friends, is willing to try this whole dating thing. Unfortunately, nobody ever told her that turning down Seo Changbin for prom would turn into such a cataclysmic event.

August 

Life without Jisung is a summer’s day missing sunshine, clouds obscuring the crystal-blue sky with ugly gray layers threatening to fall at any moment. It was a lack of fresh air after being stuck inside a room watching the walls as they slowly caved in around you. A unique kind of pain that I felt deep in my soul because there is nothing to stop it from hurting.

A new academic year was right around the corner and I had not spoken to Jisung since last semester. He never responded to my sudden message back in June, leaving me to anxiously worry about him while I prayed to receive any form of communication to alleviate my concerns. At this point, I was willing to accept anything from him even if it was just one word sent directly to my inbox.

But those places where Jisung had left a noticeable absence in my heart were sternly occupied by Changbin, even if our summer together meant video calls and late-night text messages. Our relationship was still tentative, somewhere bordering between an intimacy shared between two people who considered themselves as more than just friends. A kind of relationship that I had never experienced before, but Changbin was surprisingly willing to give me space when I would ask, demonstrating himself to be a reliable confidant. Despite our rocky start together, I was now certain of my feelings for him. And without Changbin present over the summer, I was desperate for him to come home.

Of course, I don’t want to insinuate that Changbin’s friends weren't an acceptable company, inviting me to join them for dinners or to attend a movie together. But it wasn’t the same as being with Jisung and Changbin even as I tried to remain enthusiastic when Felix would randomly invite me out to play basketball. I’ve always been bad at hiding my feelings and I knew the others could pick up on my melancholic mood. 

Thankfully, Changbin had finally sent me a well-appreciated message promising that he was planning to return the Sunday before school would start.

From Changbin:

I’ll come by and see you, Reynolds.

I schooled my enthusiasm, patiently waiting on the porch steps until Changbin’s car finally came into view, rolling to a stop along the sidewalk. Resisting the urge to run down the driveway, I concentrated on keeping a neutral expression, allowing a genuine smile when Changbin finally stepped out of the driver’s side door. “Reynolds,” he said, voice achingly familiar as I eliminated the distance between us, falling into his open arms. His heart was beating just as fast as mine, synchronized to the rapid rise and fall of our chests pressed together. “I missed you,” he said, pulling back to attach his lips to mine, kissing me with an urgency I had never experienced with him before.

I was caught off-guard, but Changbin’s grip remained persistent around my waist, swallowing my protests as I gasped into his mouth. But Changbin always had a way of easing me into these new and imposing situations, leading me by the hand while he demonstrated with an eagerness that was practically infectious and impossible not to share. “Changbin,” I finally managed, breaking our kiss because I was starting to grow light-headed. “You should warn a girl next time.”

“Couldn’t help it,” he said, warm against the side of my neck. “You definitely should have come with me, Reynolds.”

I grinned, unable to resist his charms. “Maybe next time.”

“Do you mean it?” he asked, eyes wide as he pulled back enough to meet finally look at me.

“Depends on how well you behave,” I teased him because this was the special dynamic I shared with Changbin and his returning smile told me that I wasn’t the only one who was aware.

“Honestly, Reynolds, it’s not a big deal,” Changbin said, maintaining a firm grip on my hand as he pulled me down the hallway.

It was easy enough for him to say since he was used to the attention. “Everyone’s looking,” I whispered, blushing under the watchful stares of my classmates.

“Let them,” Changbin insisted, pausing next to his locker. “They’ll get used to it.”

“But I won’t,” I complained, silently encouraging Changbin to exchange textbooks faster. “What if they ask questions?”

Changbin snorted. “Really? Why does this bother you so much, Reynolds?”

“It doesn't,” I insisted, straightening my stance. “I’m just not used to everyone paying attention to me.”

“Well, they’re all a bunch of gossips,” he said, whispering directly into my ear as if unaware of the effect it would have on me. “Let them talk.”

Changbin resumed his hold on my wrist and the two of us walked to first period together, finding a pair of desks at the back of the room. I quietly pulled out my used textbook, dusting off the cover. Meanwhile, I had yet to notice the way Changbin was currently looking at me. “What?”

He tapped his pencil against the side of my book. “Where did you get that, Reynolds? It looks used already.”

“That’s because it is,” I said. “I bought it online from an older student.”

“You shouldn’t use that,” Changbin declared, snatching the book from me with precision, elbowing his new edition in my direction. “Use mine for today. I’ll just buy another one.”

“Changbin,” I started, hesitantly considering the book. “I don’t want you to pay for something so expensive.”

“It’s not that much, Reynolds,” he insisted, but I could definitely offer protest because I saw the price for a new edition on Amazon. “Besides, you’re the brainiac anyway. You deserve this.”

My cheeks heated at his words. “But it’s really nice.”

“Of course it is,” Changbin said, flipping open the cover before pulling off the lid to his pen. “And now it’s yours.”

I watched as he scribbled my name across the front page. It almost physically hurt me to watch him devalue the textbook in one fatal swipe. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Changbin insisted, expression warm as the instructor walked into our classroom.

I relaxed as the familiarities of the instructional setting eased me into a new lecture, complete with an impressive PowerPoint. I took notes diligently, ignoring the way Changbin would study me instead of the screen, chin propped in his upturned palm. I shook my head of the distraction because I had a shining 4.0 GPA to protect, a one-way ticket into the best colleges.

At the sound of the bell, I let out a deep breath while tucking my notes and Changbin’s expensive textbook into my bag. “I’ll see you at lunch, Reynolds,” Changbin said outside the classroom, holding me close for a moment longer than necessary. I waited until he was out of sight before hurrying in the opposite direction.

The front office was busy and I was growing impatient because I only had a ten-minute break before my next class. Still, my curiosity far outweighed the idea of receiving a late notice from my teacher. I was desperate for any information about Jisung, kindly asking the office secretary if she could tell me if Jisung was still enrolled. She offered me a bored nod, searching through the files on her computer while thoroughly testing my patience.

“Jisung is taking the semester off,” the lady informed me. “He’ll be back next term.”

“Really?” I questioned immediately. “Do you know what happened?”

“I can’t give out that information,” the lady said dismissively and I knew when I was pushing my luck.

September

Changbin and I settled into an easy routine. Since basketball had yet to start, the two of us often spent time at his house for hours after school. It was usually with great persuasion that I was able to leave at night because Changbin was growing more and more determined that I should just live with him. But I enjoyed spending time with Changbin even if it meant doing homework while he would (not so subtly) watch me from over the top of his textbook. In any case, I liked what we had together and Changbin was surprisingly nice to be around once he dropped the arrogant facade he insisted on maintaining for our classmates.

“What do you want to do, Reynolds?” Changbin asked me the moment we stepped inside his bedroom.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I have an essay due tomorrow.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Changbin acknowledged, lying across his bed with a sensual stretch. 

“Can I borrow your computer?” I asked him shyly because I hated asking Changbin for something like that, but the library was crowded during this time of day.

“Of course,” he nodded, eyes closed as if considering the possibility of falling asleep while I was working.

I switched on his monitor, waiting patiently for the screen to load. Changbin had a really nice computer, equipped with a hard drive that could load dozens of applications with ease. It was fun to multitask when I had the ability right at the touch of my fingertips against the raised keyboard. 

I relaxed in his office chair, thinking about the best way to open my assignment, when an obscene moan resounded through the speakers. I was immediately at attention, watching in horror as a scandalous video started to play right in front of my eyes. Almost immediately, Changbin was behind me, muttering a curse as he closed the browser with a resounding click! 

We were both silent as I continued to look straight ahead, unable to forget the images I had seen. “Sorry, Reynolds,” Changbin finally apologized, leaning against the side of his desk with obvious shame written across his face.

“It’s okay,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve just never seen....that.”

“You’ve never watched porn before?” Changbin asked, appearing entirely surprised by such an innocent revelation.

“No,” I said, gaze dropping from his. 

“It’s not so bad,” Changbin said and I realized it sounded less defensive and more like someone trying to convince me.

“I mean,” I started, looking for the right thing to say. “I get that a lot of people watch it.”

“Yeah,” Changbin. “You know how we were talking about trying new things, Reynolds?”

I swallowed hard. “I remember.” It was a frequent topic of our summertime conversations.

“Maybe we could watch it together sometime,” he said, sounding more nervous than I was used to hearing from him.

“Really?” 

“Only if you want to,” Changbin said. “Just as a next step or whatever.”

Honestly, the idea of watching porn was so incredibly taboo to me that I was surprised I could still form coherent sentences. “Okay.”

Changbin considered me for a moment, eyes searching my own. “Okay.”

October

Basketball workouts had started early this year because my coach was more determined than ever to push our team to the state championships. Apparently, she had a lot of confidence in the new players she had recruited. But whatever the case may be, I was suddenly spending a lot of time in the gym after school, body sore as I forced myself to run an extra mile before it was time to adjourn for the day. 

On one such occasion, I was preparing my bag when I noticed that Changbin had entered the gym from the side doors, ignoring the envious stares from my teammates. I could see the perfect shine to his fancy docker-brand shoes in my peripheral vision. “Reynolds,” he said, drawing my attention.

“You stayed late?”

He nodded in response. “My parents are going out of town this weekend.”

“Oh?” I questioned absent-mindedly, zipping my bag closed.

Changbin cleared his throat. “I thought you could come over Friday night to uh-” he broke off as if unable to finish his sentence. I looked up at him, a silent invitation that he should continue. “Maybe try what we talked about before.”

I immediately caught-on to his implication, suddenly feeling far too flushed in the warm gymnasium. “Sure.”

Changbin nodded. “Is that alright?”

“Of course,” I assured him quickly, rising to my feet only to be met by his eyes suddenly very close to mine. 

He was looking for something and whatever he found must have satisfied him. He brushed a soft kiss across my lips. “6:00, don’t be late.”

Changbin answered the door far too quickly for my expectations, standing in the entryway looking absolutely handsome wearing jeans and a t-shirt. We both paused, staring at each other for far too long considering how bitterly cold it was outside. “Uh...” I swallowed hard, “can I come in?”

“Right!” Changbin said, stepping back to allow me enough room to squeeze into his house. “We can go upstairs,” Changbin added, reaching for my hand to guide me to his bedroom. His hold was appreciated because my legs were shaking and I felt a few seconds away from passing out against the wall.

“It’s warm,” I remarked, ignoring the obvious way he had set up his room, couch covered with blankets while his laptop was sitting atop the desk.

“Since you’ve never watched before,” Changbin started, getting right down to the matter at hand, “I just picked some of my favorites.”

“Okay,” I said because I didn’t know how else to respond to the idea of Changbin’s favorite porn videos.

“We can sit down,” Changbin said, already half-way to the couch before I could even blink. I followed him slowly, trying to relax against the cushions while he pulled his computer closer, typing in his password before the home screen appeared. “You can...just relax,” Changbin said, pulling up the first tab to a familiar scene and I quickly realized it was the same porn I had accidentally discovered on his computer before.

“Okay,” I managed again, wiping my sweaty palms against my jeans while the video began to play. And I visibly shuddered at the sight of the actors already undressed on-screen, the woman arched dramatically as a male knelt behind her. “This is fast,” I observed, glancing at Changbin briefly only to startle when I realized that he had been looking at me.

He moved away quickly. “It’s good though.”

I didn’t know very much about sex with the exception of the unforgettable health education classes in middle school and my mother’s half-hearted effort of talking me through my first menstrual cycle. Back then, the idea of maturing was especially horrible with the added pain of cramps and bloating. But what I did know, thanks in large part to curious research, was the very basics which quickly manifested themselves on-screen when the male actor started to hammer his cock inside the moaning woman, hips moving at a rapid pace.

Changbin swallowed hard, hand pressing against the hard swell of his obvious erection through his tight jeans. The actress on-screen let out an exaggerated moan and I blushed furiously, squirming next to him on the sofa that suddenly seemed far too small to handle the two of us. It was difficult enough to watch the video without knowing that Changbin, the object of my affections, was also aroused. The same Changbin that I had once dreamt about doing those exact same things to me and the reminder was enough to get my blood pumping, crossing my legs against the sudden heat.

I studied Changbin now, watching the way he pressed down against his cock straining for release. “That looks uncomfortable,” I remarked without much thought, only realizing my words when he met my gaze. His eyes widened slightly when he read my expression and I nodded my consent because I didn’t know what I was doing anymore, but I really liked the way Changbin’s entire body seemed to flush. I watched as Changbin managed to pull his pants down to his thighs, grabbing his cock free from the confines of his underwear, holding it with a tight grip as he fisted the engorged erection. And I couldn’t take my eyes away from the unexpected sight, studying his movements with an unblinking gaze. 

“It’s alright you know,” he said in a gruff tone, eyes wandering down to my lower-half. “If you want to do the same.”

I let out a shaky exhale, reaching down for the button on my jeans. What was I even doing? This went beyond everything that was expected of me, but the thought of touching myself was almost too much to resist, especially when Changbin had given me permission. I tucked my pants down to my knees, reaching into my panties because I wasn’t comfortable enough to go any further with an attentive Changbin sitting right next to me. 

Meanwhile, Changbin maintained a steady rhythm, fist moving up and down with well-timed movements. His gaze had moved from the screen to where I had tentatively started to slowly rub circles against my clit, head thrown back to remedy the weight of his attention. He released a groan that somehow sounded way better than the practiced sounds of the actors on-screen and I pressed down harder, aching for a release from the built-up tension permeating the space separating us by only a few inches. If I moved just enough, I would be pressed up against him, feeling the way his biceps flexed as his hand moved on his cock. 

The video on-screen was close to ending, and I sped up my movements, hearing a low grunt from Changbin who had managed to release sticky white semen across his hand. The visual alone was enough to take my breath away, circling faster until I felt the warning signs of my orgasm, closing my eyes to enjoy the accompanying feeling of divine pleasure from being stimulated just right. And when I reopened my eyes, Changbin was watching me as if he intended to never look away.

November

Changbin and I didn’t really talk about our unexpected pornography session, if that’s what we were to call it, but I had no time to linger on the subject. We were both suddenly busy, seeing less of each other as we both focused on our respective basketball tryouts. Because if there was one thing that Changbin and I shared in common, it was our commitment to the game. 

For this reason, I was completely unprepared to see Changbin in the parking lot, leaning against the side of my car. “Fully Licensed now, Reynolds?” he asked me with a smirk.

“Very recently,” I agreed, pausing in front of him. “Your practice ended hours ago.”

“I went out to eat with some friends,” Changbin said. “But I really need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding at him in encouragement. 

Changbin sighed heavily. “Tryouts are over this Friday. Wanna come over to celebrate afterward?”

I agreed easily, unaware of the evident tension in Changbin’s shoulders. “That sounds nice.”

“Reynolds,” Changbin hesitated and that was enough to catch my attention. “I want to ask you something.”

“Hmmm?” I encouraged him to continue, puzzling over the indecipherable look in his eyes. 

“When you come over...” Changbin started, “maybe we could try getting each other off this time?” 

I wasn’t expecting that, feeling my entire body stiffen at his intimate proposal. “Oh....”

“We don’t have to,” Changbin quickly added. “If you aren’t comfortable.”

But he was bad at masking his disappointment which might explain why I was so readily accepting when I nodded my head slowly. “Let’s do it.”

Changbin’s eyes widened, but a smile managed to break free. “Really?”

“You’ve been very patient with me,” I said with a shrug before mustering a look of total determination. “I’m willing to try.”

“You act like I’m asking you to do something impossible,” Changbin teased. “I’d never force you to do anything, Reynolds.”

He was always so earnest, and if we were to talk about things that were impossible, then saying no to Changbin like this was very high on the list. “When can I come over?”

Changbin leaned in closer, cologne heavy against his jacket. “How about now?”

I was a complete mess, moving constantly on Changbin’s bed while my boyfriend did his best to make me feel more comfortable. He brought me a glass of water at my insistence and even a plate of snacks that his mother had prepared. My fingers curled tightly around the glass while I reached for a handful of the little sandwiches that reminded me distantly of a fancy dinner show scene from a television series. It was a nice distraction until Changbin pulled his shirt off, messing around with his speaker to start playing music in the background. “It’s hot in here,” he offered in explanation and I merely nodded as I forced even more food into my already stuffed mouth.

“Do you have any homework?” I asked, trying to make conversation despite how obvious it was that Changbin was not interested in school, dropping a container of lotion onto the bed next to me.

“Not really,” he said.

“Essays,” I whispered, trying not to stare at his exposed chest.

Finally, Changbin joined me on the bed, tucking away our snack try on the floor before stretching out his limbs in a way that had me almost choking on my water. “Come here, Reynolds,” Changbin grumbled, and I let out a rather unattractive squeak when Changbin planted me on his lap, pressing our foreheads together. “This is better, right?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” I agreed, holding tight to his broad shoulders for stability.

Changbin reached down, thumbing across his belt. “Are you okay?”

“Mhmm,” I nodded, watching as he carefully undid the intricate clasp of his belt buckle, unzipping his pants before letting out a sigh. It only served to heighten my awareness, hands moving across the smooth, muscled skin of his upper body. He was quiet for a moment and I realized that he was waiting for me, eyes focused from beneath a curtain of brown hair. “I’m not sure what to do,” I told him honestly.

“You’re doing fine,” he said with a gentle kiss that was obviously meant to serve as reassurance, especially once his fingers made quick work of the button and zipper attached to my own jeans.

“Changbin,” I said, closing my eyes as I helped him pull down the waistband, grabbing onto him tightly as I carefully maneuvered out of my jeans, leaving me feeling far too exposed for my personal comfort.

“Relax,” he whispered, raining soft kisses across my lips while his fingers smoothed down my sides. “This is your pace.”

I nodded furiously, forcing myself to open my eyes when I felt his fingers latch onto my panties, tugging them down my legs with slow and practiced movements. A whine was muffled against his neck to hide my embarrassment, especially when his hands grabbed my ass to pull me closer. “It’s okay,” I said when I felt him pause, waiting for my permission to continue. 

“So beautiful,” he said, fingers delicately parting the folds of my throbbing sex, thumb offering a tentative stroke across the pleasurable organ.

“What about you?” I spoke into his skin.

“Watch,” he replied, using his free hand to direct my chin. I obeyed his request, keeping my eyes open when he reached into his underwear to pull his cock free from its confines, fully erect in his hand.

He tucked the waistband of his boxer short beneath him, stroking up and down in rapid succession. “But you’ve seen it before,” he teased, noticing the vibrant blush painting my skin.

“It’s different,” I said. 

He nodded in understanding, jolting me in surprise when his thumb began its slow circles around my clit. “I’ll take care of you, Reynolds,” he said, allowing me to tuck my head back in against his shoulder.

“So good,” I made sure to tell him, releasing shallow pants as I fought to control myself, focusing on the rough force of his thumb moving harshly against my throbbing sex. Occasionally, he rutted against me, reminding me that his cock stood waiting for attention, red and furious against his smooth stomach. I held my breath as I reached down to gingerly touch my fingers against the curious bead of white collecting at the slit of his cock. Changbin let out a harsh gasp, stilling my movements as his free hand came down to take a firm hold of mine, manipulating my fingers to spread out across his erection, directing them into a position he clearly liked if the ragged moan he let out was any indication. “Do it like this,” he said with a husky tone, moving the hand that now fisted his cock in delicate strokes along the full expanse of his throbbing organ.

“Does it feel good?” I asked shyly, enamored by the gorgeous flush to his cheeks, the beautiful sweep of his bangs stuck against his forehead. 

“It does,” he stuttered, obviously fighting to hold back as he continued to pleasure me in return. “Are you close?”

“I think so,” I exhaled, feeling the familiar symptoms of my impending orgasm take complete control over every rational thought raging through my head as I tried to keep a mental image of this Changbin permanently stored away.

“I want you to cum first,” he practically begged, looking at me with so much affection that I could barely breathe. 

I leaned into him more, encouraging his practiced movements as I allowed my hips to tentatively thrust in time to his strokes. Everything was hot and wet, an intimate exchange of precious oxygen as we both struggled to keep ourselves together. “I’m here,” I tried to convey, grasping tightly to the short locks at the back of his neck, fingernails digging in slightly as I rode out my orgasm with a barely restrained moan. My head fell against his broad shoulders, hand still worshipping his erection until I felt his entire body tremble against mine, something thick and warm leaking around my hand. 

December 

Changbin was absent from school the following Monday to visit a college with his family. But I took advantage of the unexpected opportunity, confronting Felix because he was close friends with Changbin. If anyone could be considered a reliable friend, then it would definitely be Lee Felix. But that still didn’t prepare me for the nonchalant way he regarded my question. “So what?” Felix rolled his eyes with a dramatic flourish. “You jerked him off, is that really a big deal?”

I blinked rapidly, surprised Felix was treating it so carelessly. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Good, that means the awkward part is over,” Felix said with a wink. “Now, you can do fun stuff.”

“Fun stuff?”

“Like actually fucking,” Felix said and his blunt honesty nearly had me choking. 

“This isn’t what I meant by advice.”

Felix shrugged. “Most kids our age have already done way worse.”

“I guess that’s true,” I acknowledged, briefly considering the possibility that maybe I was overreacting. “When should we...you know...”

“Fuck?”

“Don’t say it out loud!” I whined, checking over both my shoulders to make sure nobody had overheard the two of us.

“Christmas break is coming up,” Felix said, pushing his lunch tray aside. “Why don’t you plan for something then?”

“Me?” I asked with a squeak. “How can I plan for something like that! I have no experience.”

“Well, Changbin insists on taking things slow,” Felix explained. “Which means only you have the ability to take your relationship to...that level.”

“What would I even do?” I asked. 

“Don’t worry,” Felix said with a smirk. “I can always help you plan.”

I grimaced at the idea. “Isn’t that too personal?”

“Changbin is one of my best friends,” Felix said. “You have nothing to worry about, Kayda. Just listen to me and everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.”

“Felix,” I said. “How do I even bring something like that up? When would I have the opportunity?”

“Bringing it up is easier than you think,” Felix said. “You just need to be more confident when you talk about those things. As for the right opportunity...” Felix trailed off as his eyes landed on my cell phone. “Come outside with me.”

“What for” I grumbled, but still obediently followed Felix into the picnic area next to the main parking lot. Felix was engrossed in his own phone, barely paying me any attention until he suddenly paused next to the fence. 

“Okay,” Felix said with a smug smile. “Any moment now.”

I frowned, waiting for further explanation until the ringing of my phone disrupted our conversation. “Hold on,” I said, holding up the screen so that he could clearly see Changbin’s contact name. 

“Perfect,” he whispered. “Answer it!”

I gave him a wary look but accepted the incoming call. “Hello?”

“Reynolds,” Changbin said. “I have a proposition for you.”

My entire face heated as I immediately misinterpreted his implications. “Wh-what?”

“My parents invited you over for Christmas eve,” Changbin said. “We always have dinner with our family.”

I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized Changbin wasn’t asking for anything too intimate, especially considering the last time I stayed at his house. But then, I immediately tensed when his request was fully processed in my head. His family? The idea of meeting another Seo was incredibly intimidating and I rightfully panicked as I put my hand over the receiver to explain the situation to Felix.

“Your opportunity,” Felix whispered. 

“But...it’s his family...”

“Yeah, but you can put my plan into action,” Felix said.

“You already have a plan?”

“I told you I would help.”

I was still hesitant when I told Changbin that I was fine with meeting his family. I was putting my trust in Felix who had proven to be a reliable source thus far during the short amount of time that I had known him. Meanwhile, Changbin’s resounding excitement was palpable, but Felix's accompanying look of mischief certainly did no favors to the steady thrumming of my heart.

Changbin’s house looked like an extravagant affair straight out of the Great Gatsby and I was Nick Carraway driving up in my shitty car that easily paled in comparison to some of the sports cars lining the driveway. There were people everywhere, standing outside in social circles while chattering with glasses of expensive wine, spilling out the front door with their gorgeous dresses and handsome suits. I already felt out of place and I still hadn’t killed the ignition.

I immediately pulled out my phone, pulling up Changbin’s name before bringing the device against my ear. “Reynolds?” he answered from the other end.

“Uh...” I cleared my throat anxiously. “I’m here.”

Changbin snickered. “Okay? I’ll meet you out on the front porch.” 

He hung up without another word even though I was only seconds from begging him to find a way to sneak me in through the back entrance. Instead, I tried for a deep breath, checking my hair briefly in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “Hello,” I bowed to a woman who had pulled in behind me. She blinked twice before turning away without any further acknowledgment. “Perfect,” I grumbled because it was exactly what I was expecting.

Nevertheless, I found the courage to navigate the crowd of guests to stand awkwardly on the porch by myself. At least, for the most part, Changbin’s family and friends were more content to ignore me. This was certainly fine by me because I definitely didn’t want the additional attention. “Where is he?” I sighed, standing on my toes to look for Changbin over the towering stances of the rich assholes who were intent on blocking my view. Finally, I spotted Changbin from the doorway, nodding politely at the people who stopped to speak to him. 

Changbin’s familiar smile eased my nerves as he eventually made a path to greet me properly. “Oh, wow, Reynolds,” Changbin said, eyeing me up and down as I stood on his front porch.

“It’s weird isn’t it?” I asked, fidgeting with the hem of the dress that Felix insisted I wear to the dinner.

“No,” Changbin immediately protested, reaching for my hand to pull me inside. “I like it.”

“Thank you,” I murmured quietly, suddenly all too aware of the sounds of intermingling voices emerging from the living room.

“I want you to meet my mother,” Changbin said, grip unwavering as we entered the maze of well-dressed faces conversing over wine and tasty finger foods being passed around on serving trays.

“Your mom?” I spluttered, wishing I had the strength to pull away from Changbin and hurry back outside where I the guests had the decency to simply ignore my presence.

“She’s been asking about you,” Changbin said. “I think she’s curious.”

“Really?” 

“Of course,” he said with a smile. “You’re my girlfriend.”

“Uh-huh,” I agreed, easily recognizing Changbin’s parents standing together near the fireplace. After all, these were the same people who I had unfortunately met when Changbin had rear-ended my car Freshman year which suddenly seemed like an entire lifetime ago.

“Changbin,” an elderly woman screeched, holding out her arms in a friendly demeanor. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Since Thanksgiving,” Changbin gruffed, but still allowed the woman to squeeze the life out of him as if he was used to the treatment.

“And this must be Kayda!” the woman said, finding my eyes from over Changbin’s shoulder. “How are you, young lady?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” I said shakily, glaring at Changbin who was clearly mocking my stuttered response.

“Don’t be nervous,” the woman said, pulling me closer by my arm. “Changbin talks about you all the time.”

“He does?” I questioned, studying the boy in question who was now talking to his father, hands tucked away in his pockets.

“My grandson tells me that you play basketball too,” the woman grinned. “And that you’re very smart.”

I blushed at the compliment. “I try my best.”

“She’s a genius,” Changbin suddenly declared, tossing an arm around my shoulder. 

“So we’ve heard,” Changbin’s mother said and I felt myself subconsciously straighten my posture.

“We didn’t meet on the best of terms,” his father reminded me and I winced as I recalled the accident as if it had just happened yesterday. 

“I’m good friends with some of your teachers,” his mom said. “They’ve mentioned you before. I can only assume that you’re much brighter than you like to give yourself credit for.”

“Ah,” I laughed, pressing myself even closer to Changbin’s side because I was entirely dependent on his strength at that point. “It comes naturally.”

“If only Changbin could share your passion,” his mother sighed. “All he wants to do is play basketball.”

“Well, when it earns him a scholarship,” his father added and I could clearly see how proud he was of his son’s accomplishments.

“Are you hungry, Kayda?” 

“Maybe a little.”

Changbin’s mother smiled. “Binnie, take Kayda to the kitchens. We can talk later.”

Changbin’s arm was a helpful guide, pulling me along as I waved to his family members. I only glanced away once I realized we were moving upstairs. “Where are we going?”

“Do you want to go to my room?” Changbin asked and I immediately nodded my head. Changbin smiled, reaching for my hand before graciously excusing us from the crowded room of his relatives. It hadn’t been so bad, but I was still worried about embarrassing myself in front of the same people who controlled one of the country’s biggest enterprises.

Changbin’s room was a quiet sanctuary, and I made myself comfortable on his bed while he messed with the elaborate sound system connected to the generous speakers. Music began to fill the room, distracting me from the party still progressing downstairs. It was something familiar that Changbin liked, but I was too distracted to recall the name of the artist he deeply admired.

“What do you want to do, Reynolds?” Changbin asked as he joined me on the bed. I recalled my conversation with Felix from school, reminding me that this would be the perfect opportunity to explore his suggestion. Changbin must have noticed the way I nervously drew my lower lip between my teeth, catching me around my waist to pull me down on top of him. “Do you have something to tell me?”

“I want to try something,” I admitted nervously, looking down at Changbin lying pliantly beneath me on the bed.

“Yeah,” Changbin nodded. “Whatever you want, Reynolds.”

It was always so easy with him, but I still struggled to convey my expectations. I remembered Felix’s words, reaching down to run my hand down the front of his dress pants. Changbin’s eyes widened in surprise, reaching out to capture my wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Whatever I want,” I reminded him and he scoffed at my cheeky attitude.

“You know what I meant, Reynolds.”

“It’s no big deal,” I lied, and Changbin was quick to read through the fabrication, sitting up despite my faint protests.

“What’s going on with you, Reynolds? You know you can be honest with me.”

“I know,” I started, flustered beyond belief with the way he was looking at me. “I talked to Felix the other day...”

“Ah,” Changbin interrupted. “You don’t have to listen to him. He always thinks he knows everything.”

“But I liked what he said,” I insisted. “I want to try it.”

“Try what exactly.”

The words were still embarrassing even in my head so I whispered them into Changbin’s ears. Immediately, my boyfriend’s mouth dropped open in shock. “He said that?”

“As a suggestion,” I said, fidgeting nervously because of his reaction.

“You don’t have to, Reynolds,” Changbin said, delicately using one finger to lift up my chin. His gaze was sincere.

“I know,” I nodded solemnly. “It might be...interesting?”

Changbin chuckled at my choice of words, deft fingers already working apart the button and zipper on his dress pants. “We’ll see if you think it’s really interesting,” he said, pulling both his pants and boxers down to his ankles before allowing them both to fall into the floor.

“I want to,” I insisted, looking down at his exposed cock. 

“I’ll help you,” Changbin said. “But it might be easier if I was on the edge.”

I nodded frantically, moving into the floor while Changbin made himself comfortable, fisting his cock as he parted his thighs. “How should I start?” I asked him.

“You can just try the tip?” he said, clearing his throat when I abruptly leaned in closer, opening my mouth to wrap my lips around the stream of pre-cum steadily leaking from his slit. “Woah,” he gasped, both hands grabbing my hair tightly. “Easy.”

I ignored his warning, taking in more of his impressive girth, tongue exploring the taste of him. It wasn’t bad, but I certainly wouldn’t declare it as one of my favorite moments with Changbin. My inexperience was obvious, saliva dripping from my lips, focusing on breathing in through my nose since it was proving difficult with his cock in my mouth.

“Shit, Reynolds,” Changbin moaned and the sound almost made up for the bitter taste coating my lips. “You won’t hurt me,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “Just-just don’t use your teeth.”

I heeded his warning, but it forced me to hollow my cheeks. However, that seemed to only please Changbin whose hips stuttered in place, fingers providing an unforgiving hold on my scalp. I moved my head up and down his cock, listening to the advice he offered and trying to ignore the light-headedness that warned me that I desperately needed to breathe. I pulled off for a moment, inhaling fresh oxygen while Changbin maintained his hold, barely allowing me time to recover before he was encouraging me to swallow him again. Testing my limits as my nose brushed against his pubic bone, but it was far too much and jerked back in surprise when I felt him at the back of my throat. “Be careful,” Changbin said, sounding like he was completely out of breath despite the fact that I was doing most of the work. Still, it made me feel almost proud of myself to be affecting him so much, especially when I was the one who lacked experience. “I’m close,” he said. “Trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to swallow.”

I heeded his warning, pulling back from his cock to take in heavy breaths while Changbin reached behind him for a tissue, wrapping it around his erection before jerking himself to completion. Afterward, the two of us could do nothing but stare at one another in obvious wonder at the new discovery we had just made together. Breathing hard as the music continued to play in the background.

January

“My mother asked about you,” Changbin said with a grin. “You made a strong impression.”

The two of us were currently driving my car to the mechanic shop, an extra layer of jackets to compensate for my broken heating. “I did my best,” I said, adjusting my sunglasses slipping down the brim of my nose. “Everyone was intimidating.”

“That’s just because you let them intimidate you,” Changbin said, reaching for my hand across the console. “You never had anything to worry about.” 

“Easy for you to say,” I retorted. “You’ve been living with them for your entire life.”

Changbin laughed. “Okay, but I would be a good judge of character. Trust me, you were the star of the party.”

“Against Seo Changbin?” I gasped. “The most heavily recruited point guard in the state?”

“My accolades paled in comparison to you,” Changbin said. “My parents were thrilled when I told them what your GPA is.”

“Well, I guess that gives me more motivation to study,” I said, pulling into the empty parking lot of the mechanic shop.

“You can study with me,” Changbin pouted and I resisted the urge to lean over and kiss him when he looked so adorable.

“Let’s go inside,” I said, ignoring his question in exchange for the quaint little store attached to the mechanic’s garage. Inside, I found an immediate contradiction between my boyfriend and the shop that had been around since my dad was a kid. It was almost comical, how much of an outsider Changbin looked in the moldy shop, Gucci-toed boots scuffing against the linoleum floor in clear disparity. 

“This is the place?” Changbin asked me.

“We’ve gone here for years,” I said, walking up to the bored, middle-aged mechanic slowly flipping through a magazine.

“Name?” he asked in a monotone voice.

“Kayda Reynolds,” I said. “I made an appointment online.”

The mechanic sighed, reaching for the faded keyboard attached to the computer monitor that belonged exclusively to the 90s. “You’ll have to redo the form,” the mechanic said, irritation leaking from his tone. “Most of the information is incorrect.”

“I’m sorry,” I quickly apologized. “Is there a way to do it here?”

“We don’t keep forms in the office,” the mechanic dismissed me quickly, returning his attention to his magazine.

I was more than ready to head back home, deciding that my father would probably have more luck than me when it came to these things. But when I reached down for Changbin’s hand, I noticed that my boyfriend was glaring at the mechanic. “You have a customer here who needs work done. Why the hell does it matter if the form is wrong?”

“We require the information on the form for all appointments,” the mechanic said. “It’s written at the very bottom of the screen.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe you could still work on the car and she can send you the form later.”

“Changbin,” I said, tugging on his jacket sleeve. “Let’s just go.”

“How the hell do you even stay in business if you won’t work on the cars from paying customers?”

“Sir,” the mechanic rolled his eyes, “your girlfriend filed the report, not us. It’s not the shop’s fault if she can’t read the fine print.”

“Say another word and I’ll make sure you wake up in a hospital.”

“Changbin!”

I practically drug the incensed boy outside the body shop, planting my hands on my hips as I fixed him with a reprimanding look. “You can’t say that!”

Changbin glared in the direction of the shop entrance. “Those assholes shouldn’t be allowed to treat you that way. I told you to go to my guy.”

“I can’t afford that place,” I retorted.

“I’ll pay for it,” Changbin declared. “Hell, I can buy you a better car, Reynolds.”

“Changbin,” I sighed, “you can’t just buy me things like that.”

“Why not?” he asked, perfectly earnest as he appraised me.

“Because I don’t want you to,” I said. “This isn’t even a big deal, I’ll just have my dad take care of it instead.”

“Reynolds,” Changnin glowered. “They shouldn’t talk to you that way. I wouldn’t give them another cent of your money.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Why are you so mad? I don’t even care about them. They always act that way, but they do decent work at cheap prices.”

“I’m mad because they disrespected you,” Changbin said. “Right in front of me! Next time, I’m taking you to my guy and I don’t want to hear anything about money.”

I was surprised by how upset Changbin was, so I quickly agreed with his request because I didn’t want to ignite his anger any further. Of course, I knew that my father could handle any future problems, but Changbin didn’t need to know that. Because he had finally allowed me to take his hand, slowly leading him back to my car.

Jisung returned to school for the beginning of the spring semester. I saw him in the parking lot, grabbing his bag from the passenger seat of his car. My first instinct was to call out his name and run across the parking lot like a scene from a melodrama to demand one of his familiar hugs. But I knew we stood on shaky ground, and I could only watch from afar as he walked by himself to the school’s main entrance.

I needed to figure out a plan to confront him because I was feeling increasingly desperate the longer I was forced to pretend like Jisung and I were just simple acquaintances. What happened to our vacation together during Christmas last year? With the exception of our shared kiss, I had never felt closer to Jisung, sharing intimate secrets and desires by the warm fire of his family cabin. But instead of growing our friendship, I could feel us moving apart in entirely different directions and it was nothing short of painful to watch Jisung ignore me.

What could I do to convince him? I wondered to myself, ignorant of my boyfriend’s impending approach until his arms were wrapped around my waist. “Reynolds,” he said, offering me a chaste kiss. “What are you doing?”

“Freezing,” I replied, deciding not to share Jisung’s return with Changbin. “Did you finish your math assignment?”

Changbin’s apparent look of guilt told me everything I needed to know. “We had lat practice,” he reminded me, but I was having none of his potential justifications.

“You promised,” I said, fixing him with a stern glare.

“It’s my last class of the day,” Changbin pouted. “Will you help me at lunch?”

I hesitated because I had planned to confront Jisung at lunch, but I suppose it was better to figure out what exactly I needed to say to him first. “Okay,” I said, groaning when Changbin pulled me against his side. “But you need to focus! You won’t be able to play in any more basketball games if your grades slip.”

Changbin sighed as if he had heard the same lecture before. “Look, I promise that I’ll do better.”

“For me?” I tried again.

“For you,” Changbin agreed. “Just as long as I get my reward later.”

I blushed at his tone. “As long as you behave.”

But Changbin was clearly pleased with how flustered I was, smirking in that familiar self-satisfied manner. “See? A compromise.”

I bit my tongue to hold back a sharp retort considering that Changbin probably had greatly misinterpreted what a compromise really entailed. But my boyfriend was in a good mood and he started chattering away about a tournament his team was participating in that weekend. Meanwhile, I was consumed with thoughts of Jisung, determined to restore our friendship.

February

I would never consider myself a courageous person, but right now, setting my tray down across from Jisung’s, I felt just like an action hero. “Jisung,” I said quietly, shivering when we finally made eye contact. “You don’t mind, do you?” For a moment, I briefly entertained the possibility of Jisung asking me to leave, but I was willing to accept the potential risks. Because this was Jisung and I desperately wanted him to be a part of my life again. “Sungie.”

He glanced up at the nickname, expression blank. “Did you need something?”

I bit my lower lip because it was clear that Jisung wasn’t going to make this any easier on me. “I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” he said dismissively. 

“Jisung, I don’t understand what I did wrong,” I said. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’ll do anything to make up for it.”

Jisung returned his attention to his tray. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been ignoring me,” I said, swallowing down a whine. “I’ve been sending you messages.”

“I got them,” he said shortly. “I don’t know if you even realized, but I took last semester off.”

“Of course I noticed,” I said, offended that he would insinuate otherwise. “That’s why I was so worried. Ever since I started dating Changbin...”

Jisung stiffened at the mention of my boyfriend and suddenly everything clicked into place. “Are you mad that I’m dating Changbin?”

Jisung cleared his throat. “I don’t care who you date, Kayda.”

“Don’t do that,” I said sternly. “I don’t want you to pretend like you don’t care.”

“What exactly do you want from me?” Jisung bit out harshly, pupils blown wide with his anger.

I wilted under that rage, folding my hands together in my lap. “This is hurting me, Jisung. I just want my friend back.”

“You hurt me just as much,” Jisung retorted, sliding his lunch tray out of the way as he glared at me. “I really liked you, Kayda, and you just pushed me away. Now, when it’s more convenient for you, I get an apology?”

He was right, and I struggled for something to say. “Jisung,” I finally sighed. “I know you’re right. Look, I’m really bad when it comes to apologies. I can never figure out the right thing to say, but I care about you a lot and if I did anything to make you think otherwise, then I want to try and make things better.”

“It’s not so simple,” Jisung said, but his expression had softened. “After the kiss, I thought we might have something more than just friendship, but you insisted that day...” Jisung broke off, appearing conflicted as he shook his head. “Things got worse with mom and then she passed away over the summer. I was forced to take the semester off and I had to do it without you.”

I’m sure the tears in my eyes matched the steady waterworks filling the corners of Jisung’s beautiful eyes. “Jisung,” I managed softly. “I’m sorry things broke down between us because I would have been there for you over the summer. In fact, I’ll probably regret this for the rest of my life.”

Jisung tersely wiped away a stray tear, blinking rapidly as he struggled to compose himself. “It’s done, Kayda. There’s nothing left to regret.”

“Of course there is,” I said, reaching across the table for his hand. I let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t pull away. “I miss you a lot, Jisung. You’re very important to me and I’d really like it if we could still be friends.”

Jisung took a long time to respond and I allowed him every second to think because I was determined to win back his trust. Finally, after an excruciatingly long pause, Jisung managed a slow nod. “I miss you too, Kayda.”

I offered him a warm smile, curling my fingers through his own. “You want to come over after school?”

He nodded again, soft eyes meeting mine from across the table. “I’m willing to try again for you.” 

Jisung and I started to spend time together on the weekends, driving together through the countryside or reclaiming our former spot in my backyard tucked away beneath the trees. We talked a lot about Jisung’s mother and it was reassuring that Jisung appeared to be, for the most part, at peace with her passing. He was still obviously sad, speaking in a whispered tone when he talked about how hard it was to accept. 

“I should’ve been there for you,” I said.

Jisung shook his head. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath because it felt like everything was starting to return to normal. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“I don’t know,” Jisung said. “I might need a suit rental.”

“Why?”

“Prom is coming up,” Jisung said. “Even if nobody asks me to go, I still can’t miss out on my senior year.”

I shrugged indifferently. “I don’t care about prom.”

Jisung chuckled. “Yeah, but your boyfriend might.”

“I feel like Changbin could care less about a stupid dance,” I said. 

Of course, only in hindsight can I look back on my words and regret them because the very next day at school, Changbin approached me in the parking lot with his hands behind his back. “Reynolds,” he said. “Guess what?”

“Hmmm?” I acknowledged, busy shuffling through the notes I was planning to lend to a teammate.

“Hey, look at me,” he insisted softly.

I entertained his request. “I feel like you’re planning something elaborate.”

“Maybe,” he giggled and I narrowed my eyes because Changbin only ever got this way if he was feeling particularly mischievous.

“What did you do?”

He brought both hands forward, holding an impressive bouquet of flowers between his hands.  “Reynolds,” Changbin smiled, extending the flowers in my direction. “You should go to prom with me.”

I took the flowers since he was practically shoving them at my face. “Prom?”

“Yes,” Changbin agreed with a nod. “We have a lot to plan. What do you think about matching colors?”

I laughed at his enthusiasm. “Plan? Changbin, I don’t really want to go to prom.”

His smile vanished in an instant. “What?”

“I’m not that interested,” I shrugged, opening the door to my car before carefully laying the bouquet across the front seat. “You can always ask somebody else.”

Changbin was quiet for far longer than I was used to, but the way his jaw clenched spoke louder than words. “That’s fine, Kayda,” he said, shaking his head as he took a step back. “I don’t care.”

“Binnie,” I tried, reaching out for his hand but Changbin just ignored my attempts to pacify his anger, shoving his hands into his pockets before turning his back on me.

March 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I glanced up at Felix in surprise. “Huh?”

“Why aren’t you going with Changbin to prom?” he demanded, foot tapping against the floor impatiently.

“What’s the big deal with all of you?” I grumbled. “I didn’t want to go to prom in the first place.”

“Kayda,” Felix groaned as if I physically exasperated him. “Of course it’s a big deal! You don’t understand how important this is to Changbin.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s just a stupid dance.”

Felix gasped. “The audacity!”

“Felix, I’m not in the mood for a lecture, okay? I’m telling you that it’s not a big deal.”

“Alright,” Felix sighed, disregarding all formalities as he sat down next to me. “I guess you need a reminder.”

“Reminder?” I repeated, already tired of the conversation.

“Do you know how hard it was to get the two of you together in the first place?” Felix asked. “Impossible.”

“We’re together now, aren’t we?”

“Exactly! And you’re clearly oblivious to just how proud that makes Changbin.”

“I wasn’t aware you were a therapist,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “I’m trying to eat in peace.”

“Kayda,” Felix said. “Listen to me, Changbin has wanted you for a very long time. And now that you two are dating, he wants to do everything that normal couples do, and that includes going to prom together. Don’t you know how ridiculous it looks for the school’s basketball star to miss out on prom!”

“I doubt Changbin cares about that,” I scoffed.

“But he does care about you, and in his mind this is like the perfect opportunity to show you off to everyone,” Felix said. “Prom has always been important to Changbin, and he was so excited to ask you to go with him.”

“Are you trying to make me feel guilty?” I grumbled, jerking my gaze free from the intensity of Felix’s scowl.

“No, I’m just trying to help my friend. I didn’t know that would mean reminding his girlfriend that he had feelings too.”

“That’s enough, Felix,” I snapped, pushing my chair back as I stood up from the table. “I don’t have to take this.”

I was a storm of rage on the inside, seeing nothing but red, when a familiar voice sternly brought me back to Earth. “What’s going on over here?”

Jisung was standing at the end of the table, glancing back and forth between Felix and me. “Nothing,” I grumbled, grabbing my tray and brushing past Jisung without another word.

But Jisung followed me regardless, catching up to me in the hallway after I deposited my tray at the counter. “Kayda,” he said, grabbing my arm to force me to stop walking.

“What?” I said, spinning around with my arms crossed over my chest.

“Why are you yelling at Felix?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

I sighed because it felt like everyone was trying to worm their way into my private life. “It’s just something with Changbin.”

“The thing with prom?” he asked.

“How did you know?”

“Everyone knows,” Jisung admitted. “I guess it’s like a big deal or something.”

“Felix told me that I made a mistake,” I said. “But it’s my life and he has no right to interfere.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jisung shrugged. “I saw Changbin yesterday in the parking lot. He looked pretty upset, and you weren’t glued to his side like usual...” Jisung trailed off as if waiting for me to fill in the gaps, but I determined not to give in this time. “Alright, look Kayda, I know what happened with Changbin, and I guess you’re probably tired of hearing about it.”

“Exactly!” I sharply retorted.

“Okay, but can you at least tell me why you turned him down? Do you really hate the idea of going to prom that much?”

“It’s not that I hate it,” I sighed. “I just don’t get why it’s such a big deal. I would honestly rather stay at home.”

“Even if it hurts his feelings?”

“So now you’re against me too?”

“No, no,” Jisung said, waving his hands around frantically. “That’s not what I meant at all, I just think you should consider that it might mean something to Changbin, even if it really doesn’t matter to you. Yeah, you might not like the idea of going, but it’s obvious that it means a lot to him. Maybe you should think about it that way instead of everyone turning against you.”

I froze upon hearing Jisung’s blunt honesty. “But now it’s like a whole thing and I don’t understand what’s wrong with everybody!”

“Well, if I know Kayda Reynolds, then I can only assume that this probably has a lot more to do with you being stubborn as opposed to refusing to give in to peer pressure or whatever you’re thinking.”

I considered his words, shoulders falling as I realized that Jisung was right. “I’m just tired of being told what to do.”

“I get that, but this involves more than just your feelings, okay?”

I hated that he was actually making a lot of sense. “So what should I do now?”

Jisung smirked, wordlessly pulling out his cellphone. “How do you feel about dress shopping?”

I pulled up outside of Changbin’s house, smoothing down my dress while trying not to trip on my heels as I walked to his front door. “Deep breaths, Kayda,” I encouraged myself, reaching out for the doorbell as I waited patiently on the outside porch.

I hesitated when the door finally opened revealing Changbin standing on the other side. “Reynolds?” Changbin immediately questioned me.

“Get dressed,” I said, glancing at the time on my phone. “We can still make it on time.”

Changbin didn’t move from his spot in the doorway. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Prom,” I groaned. “It starts in an hour.”

Changbin took a step back, clearly reeling from the encounter. “You want to go to Prom? I thought you insisted otherwise,” he said with a bitter tone.

“I’m sorry, Changbin,” I said, looking down at the sharp point of my shoes. “I didn’t realize how important it was to you.”

Changbin was silent for a moment. “So you just decided to show up here without calling me first?”

“I thought it would be better to surprise you,” I told him honestly, finally mustering the courage to meet his gaze. “If you still want to go. I’d totally get it if you, like, shut the door in my face or something because I probably deserve it after the way I treated you.”

Changbin’s gaze softened. “I’m not going to do that, Reynolds.” He sighed as he seemed to consider my proposal. “Give me twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be in the car,” I told him excitedly, thrilled that Changbin had opened up to my proposal. The next time I saw Jisung and Felix, I owed them a thorough extension of my gratitude. 

“You’re driving?” Changbin scoffed. “That wouldn’t have been my plan, but I kinda like it when you take control.”

“Well, hurry up,” I said. “We don’t have all night.”

“Says the person who gave me no time to get ready,” Changbin said, but his smile seemed to suggest otherwise.

“I prepared nice transportation for you,” I said while retreating down the stairs. “My dad’s car actually has heat.”

Changbin laughed. “Stop distracting me, Reynolds. I thought we were on a time constraint.”

“We are,” I said, reaching into my pocket for the keys. “I’m giving you time while I try to make things as glamorous as you always imagined them.”

Changbin didn’t say anything, far too busy leaving the front door wide open while he rushed to change his clothes. Meanwhile, I was ensuring that everything was ready, switching the music to his favorite genre and reaching down for the messy boutonniere that Felix insisted was mandatory. As Changbin had desired, I made sure that my corsage matched in color, even going out of my way to splurge on a ridiculous clip to wear in my hair. 

Jisung and Felix were both adamant that they help me plan for the occasion, and despite their annoying habits of perfection, I knew everything would only prove to benefit my night with Changbin. Even I threw away my usual inhibitions, spending more money on my prom dress than I would usually allow, especially since I was only going to wear it for this one occasion. I grinned as I thought about Changbin’s reaction. He would be the first to tell me that the money meant nothing because it was okay to indulge when the occasion was just right. Changbin always had that ridiculous sense of self-confidence that at one time might have infuriated me, but now I only saw it as another aspect of his character which I was unwittingly falling for with each passing day.

“Ready, Reynolds?” Changbin asked with barely concealed enthusiasm, fussing with his hair in the rearview mirror.

“Hey, you look fine,” I insisted, swiping his hand away before throwing the car into drive.

Prom might be a time-honored tradition, but that didn’t equate to the formalities that most people expected. In fact, the minute we walked through the door, I was greeted with the sound of some over-played pop song and a mirage of teenagers abandoning their high heels just so that they could grind on their partners. Well, I shouldn’t have anticipated anything different when it came to my fellow classmates. But this night was about Changbin, and I allowed him to drag me from couple to couple, talking with his teammates while I tolerated the envious glares sent in my direction from the masses of Changbin’s admirers. “Here,” Changbin said, handing me a plastic flute of punch. I took it gratefully, savoring the cool taste of the liquid as it soothed my hoarse throat. “Should we sit down?” Changbin asked and I nodded in agreement.

The two of us had been talking for hours, flitting from one person to the next like the social butterfly Changbin liked to be. We met Felix on the edge of the dancefloor, forcing him to take a break from what might have amounted to a stroke if the younger continued his dalliances. Felix was practically drenched in sweat, eyes wide with adrenaline. “Are you having fun?” Felix yelled at us with an unnecessarily loud tone.

Next, we found Minho and Hyunjin surrounded by a group of younger Freshman girls, soaking up the attention with smug expressions. “Laura,” Minho listed off, pointing to each girl in succession. “Katie, Amanda, Lisa...Amy?”

Finally, I convinced Changbin to give me a moment with Jisung. “Did you come alone?” I asked him.

“I came with a few other guys,” Jisung sighed. “But I think they abandoned me.”

“Poor baby,” I said, unable to resist squishing his cheeks between my hands.

“It’s fine,” Jisung whined, but I could tell he liked the attention. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“He went to find us a drink,” I said, scanning the perimeter of the room. “Is it fun yet?”

“It’s alright,” Jisung shrugged. “But I think you might’ve been right about prom all along.”

I shrugged. “What can I say? If you go to one dance, you’ve been to them all.”

“I thought it might be different,” Jisung said. “Since the school actually paid for the caterer.”

“And the food?”

“Kinda gross.”

I laughed at his observation as Changbin joined the two of us with a drink in each hand. “Hi,” I grinned, leaning against his side.

Changbin leaned down to brush his lips across my forehead before offering Jisung a courteous nod. “How’s your night?”

“Interesting,” Jisung said. “I’ll see you two later.”

Which brings me to the present, perched neatly in Changbin’s lap while we took a break from the commotion in the empty lounge. My eyelids were growing heavy and I took the liberty of claiming Changbin’s shoulder as a suitable pillow. “This is tiring.”

Changbin’s arm tightened around my waist, bringing us even closer together. “I know you only did this for me.”

“Are you crazy?” I asked. “This is like...the most fun ever.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kayda,” Changbin said, fingers sorting through the mischievous strands of hair bothering my eyes. “I’m really glad we came.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, unable to hold back a yawn. “I wish I had more energy.”

“It’s cute,” Changbin said, ignoring my protests as he kissed me softly. “Thank you for entertaining me.”

“It’s my job,” I said. “But, if it’s okay with you, I might need to find a nearby audiologist because my ears are ringing at this point.”

“Let’s get you home,” Changbin said, offering me another kiss which I gratefully accepted.

April

There was a noticeable optimism following the events of prom, a sense of complacency settling amongst the student body. Despite the drama that offered a precursor to the evening’s events, I noticed that most people seemed happier, especially the seniors who would be graduating soon. This included Jisung who had managed to make-up his lost semester by promising to dedicate himself to summer school. In any case, the opportunity meant that Jisung would no longer be attending school with me next year and I was rightfully chastened by the thought of never seeing my best friend again, which is why I was determined to spend as much time with him as possible.

The two of us frequently liked to get together at my house, spreading out a blanket in the backyard like we used to do, laying together quietly under the steady influence of the warmer weather. “I like the spring,” Jisung said, stretching his arms above his head. “There’s always more sunshine.”

“Hmmm,” I agreed with him, distracted by the edging drowsiness eclipsing my ability to form rational sentences. 

“I got my acceptance letter today,” Jisung said. “If I pass my summer classes, then I’ll start Community College in the fall.”

I perked up at this information, opening one eye to glance over at Jisung. “You won’t be going far away?”

Jisung smirked. “Not at first. I plan to transfer eventually, but this seemed like the right start.”

“I’m proud of you, Jisung,” I said without a single ounce of malice. Those hard feelings between the two of us had dissipated like the morning frost chilling the discarded leaves decorating the grass. Instead, all that was left was a beautiful trust that cemented us together as equals in every sense of the word.

May

The end of the school year was growing closer with every passing day, and Changbin and I had started making a habit of spending time after school at the park. The two of us liked to walk the trails together, talking about whatever it is that we found interesting. This could be anything from Felix’s new girlfriend to the topic of Changbin’s conversation with a college recruiter who was more than ready to offer him a scholarship to play basketball. I was proud of him, but I was also wary of the impending topic of our Senior year and what might happen when we both graduated.

Changbin didn’t seem to notice my anxieties, talking openly about his dreams. “The dorms were pretty small,” he said. “I wanted to stay off-campus or something.”

“They won’t let you?”

“Freshmen have to live together,” Changbin grimaced. “I’m not sure I want a roommate.”

I grinned because Changbin acted every bit like the only child who was never forced to share with a sibling. “It might not be so bad.”

“Maybe,” Changbin replied distantly, silent for a moment before pausing next to the lake. “We’re going out of town for the summer again,” Changbin said.

“That’s not surprising,” I attempted to tease him, but it was difficult when Changbin looked so serious. “You leave every year.”

“Reynolds,” Changbin said carefully, watching me through cautious eyes. “You should come with us this time.”

His words were met with silence while I took a moment to admire the way the sun reflected off the smooth surface of the lake. “It’s your family vacation.”

“Yeah? Well, I want you to be there,” he said, tugging my hand as if trying to convince me.

But Changbin should know by now that it took little to convince me when it came to the school’s revered sports celebrity. “I’ll go.”

“Really?” Changing gasped, managing to look completely taken aback by my simple acquiescence. 

“It sounds like fun,” I shrugged, but I was hardly indifferent, especially once he leaned down to offer me a gentle kiss to seal my promise.

[becasbelt]

Chapters: 8/12 Fandom: Pitch Perfect (Movies) Rating: T Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell Characters: Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale, Dr. Mitchell (Pitch Perfect), Beca Mitchell's Mother, Aubrey Posen, Jesse Swanson Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, skateboarder!beca, Romance, Angst

Note: This chapter all happens in the past, even though it is not italicized.

* * *

CHAPTER 8

Three Years Ago

The school bus rumbles to a halt by Beca’s stop, lurching a little when the driver hits the breaks too hard. Beca slings her backpack over her shoulder and climbs down the steps leading down to the sidewalk, music playing loudly from her headphones.

She waves goodbye to one of her friends and makes her way down the street towards her house. It’s a nice day outside; not too warm, despite it being the end of August. The sky is clear, and good energy radiates all around. On top of it all, the beginning of Beca’s sophomore year of high school is going well so far, so she really doesn’t have all that much to complain about at the moment.

When Beca rounds the walkway leading up to the front door of her house, she’s confused to see her dad’s car in the driveway. Normally he didn't get home until much later in the evening. She approaches the house slowly, pulling her headphones to rest around her neck as she walks through the doorway.

“Mom?” Beca calls out. The sound of distant footsteps from upstairs reaches her ears, so she knows she’s not alone in the house. Beca receives no reply, so her mom either doesn’t hear her, or is choosing not to answer.

Beca closes the door softly behind her and drops her bag on the couch in the front room, eyeing the piano for a moment before moving into the kitchen. She’s just pulling a couple Oreos out of the pantry when the sound of heavy stomping starts on the stairs, followed by agitated voices. Beca puts her Oreos down on the counter and goes to investigate.

Even though it’s the middle of the day, her dad is home for some reason. He makes his way down the stairs, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, his wife hot on his heels.

“-can’t do this anymore,” he’s saying, and her mom starts to respond before they both stop at the bottom of the staircase when they realize that Beca is standing there.

Her parents fall still and silent as they look at Beca.

Finally, her dad speaks up. “I thought you had an after school rehearsal today.”

“It got cancelled,” Beca replies warily. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” her mother jumps in quickly. She shoots a pointed look at her husband. “Nothing is happening.”

Her dad scowls. “Like hell it isn’t,” he growls before pushing past Beca to walk into the living room.

“Warren, you can’t actually be serious!” her mother shouts, following quickly behind him. Beca hurries to follow as well, confused as hell.

“Serious about what?” Beca asks.

“You know this has been a long time coming,” her dad responds stiffly, shoving various papers and folders into his work bag. “This hasn’t been working out for years.”

“What’s been a long time coming?” Beca tries again, a terrible feeling dropping into her stomach. Still, her parents continue to ignore her.

“And you think this is the best solution? We can work through this! It doesn’t have to end this way!” Her mom puts a hand on her dad’s arm to try and stop his movements, but he shakes her off. He turns and looks her right in the eyes.

“I think we both know that isn’t true,” he tells her, deadly serious.

There room fall quiet, and Beca decides now might be a good time to speak up again. “What the hell is going on here?”

Her parents slowly turn to look at her. Her mother has tears in her eyes, while her father’s eyes reveal no emotion.

“Bug,” he whispers, taking a step forward and reaching out a hand. Beca takes a step back and shrugs away from his touch.

“What’s going on?” she repeats, quieter this time. She thinks she already knows, but can’t bring herself to believe it.

Her dad squares his shoulders and clenches his jaw. “I’m leaving, Beca,” he says resoundingly, not an ounce of doubt in his words.

Beca feels her heart snap. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”

He smiles sadly at her. “I can’t be here with you two anymore. It’s not fair to either of you,” he tries explaining gently, but still his words cut through Beca like a knife. “I can’t be the person you need in your life anymore.” He looks at his wife with disdain. “I’m tired of trying and not getting anything in return.”

There are no tears coming to Beca’s eyes yet; the shock too great to allow her to register any emotions. She watches her dad pick up his bags as if she’s watching from the other side of a movie screen. She watches as if none of this is real.

Yet, it’s all too real as her mother starts sobbing and screaming obscenities at her father. It’s all too real as he stops by Beca’s frozen body, lightly touching the headphones around her neck – a gift from him – as he stoops down to press a kiss against the top of her head. It’s all too real as he walks out the front door and out of their lives.

That’s when the tears hit Beca- when the door shuts and she’s left alone with her mother’s sobs. She stares blankly at the front door as tears start streaming down her cheeks, but still she remains silent.

Out the window, she can see dark clouds rolling in from the distance, a fitting physical metaphor for how Beca’s life has darkened in the course of a few short minutes.

* * *

Numb.

All Beca feels is nothing, and she can’t decide if that is good or not.

On the one hand, not feeling anything is a good thing, because it means that she doesn’t have to think about how much pain she could be feeling at this point in time. On the other hand, it’s just about the worst thing in the world.

Beca cried for about the first 48 hours of her dad walking out on them. She and her mom sat on the couch and ate pizza and ice cream for two days, not going to work or school. They allowed themselves to feel all the pain and anger that was raging inside, but soon enough all the emotions gave way into a pit of emptiness.

Now, one month later, Beca would give anything to feel hurt like that again. To feel anything again.

She started going back to school a week after he left, though she hasn’t really processed any of the lessons she’s been taught. Her friends know there’s something wrong with her, but they stopped trying to find out. If her teachers can tell that something happened, none of them ask her about it.

Her schoolwork starts falling behind. She stops sitting with her friends at lunch. In choir she is little more than silent body standing amongst singing students.

Her mom isn’t fairing much better. She started going back to work two weeks after that fateful day, only after she was threated to be fired. When she was home, though, Beca never saw her, and even when she did see her it wasn’t the same.

Tina Mitchell was not the same woman that she was a month ago. She used to be a quick-witted, passionate, caring mother that always tried to see the best in situations. Now, she was a ghost of who she used to be. She floated from room to room in a daze, she made dinner only because she had to, she watched TV with glazed eyes so that she could have something to distract her for a little while.

She tried telling Beca that she was fine, that she was happy to finally be done with that selfish, dickhead of a husband, but Beca could clearly see that that was not the truth. Her mother was telling herself that she was fine, but in reality she was slowly falling apart at the seams.

Beca doesn’t know what’s worse at this point: the fact that she’s lost her father, or the fact that she’s gradually losing her mother as well.

A door opens and closes downstairs, making Beca snap out of the thoughtless daze she’d fallen in. Her laptop sits open in front of her, the screen filled with her mixing program. It’s blank, despite the fact that Beca has been sitting at her desk and trying to find inspiration for the past hour.

With a sigh, Beca clicks out of the program and closes her computer, figuring that she should probably go say hi to her mom, considering it was nearly eight in the evening and they hadn’t seen each other yet.

Beca walks into the kitchen to see her mom boiling some water for pasta. The sight brings a bit of hope to Beca’s chest- her mother had a tendency to go days without eating anything lately. Her mom doesn’t notice her enter the room; just continues staring into the pot of water.

Beca clears her throat.

Her mom looks up in surprise. “Oh, Beca. I didn’t realize you were home.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “Where else would I be?”

There’s a pause in the conversation as her mother thinks. “Choir thing, maybe?”

Beca winces. She hadn’t exactly been all that active in the choir program at her school for the past month, and her director wasn’t very happy with her at the moment. “Nope, not tonight,” she responds awkwardly.

Another pause.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” Beca asks eventually as she moves to pull some crackers out of the pantry to snack on.

Her mom shrugs. “Not really,” she says distractedly, stirring the noodles in the pot. “I was probably just going to turn in pretty early. I’m pretty tired today.”

“Today and every day,” Beca murmurs under her breath. She glances at her mom, expecting to be reprimanded for her attitude, but the woman has gone back to staring into the water in a daze.

Beca leans against the counter by the oven and watches her mom as she munches on her crackers, waiting to see if any conversation will start back up.

How was your day at school?

Learn anything interesting?

Are you doing okay?

Menial conversational topics such as these used to make Beca groan and roll her eyes, but at the moment she finds herself desperately wishing her mother would say anything at all. Hell, she’d even take getting lectured at this point.

Yet still, her mom continues to forget she’s there.

Beca pushes off of the counter and leaves the kitchen to shove her feet into a pair of shoes. When she returns, Beca sees that her mother hasn’t moved an inch.

“Is it alright if I go for a walk?” Beca asks loudly from the doorway. Her mom glances up at her.

“Sorry, what was that, dear?” is her mother’s response.

Beca sighs. “I’m going for a walk,” she tells her this time instead of asking. A part of her hopes her mother will tell her no, it’s already too late to be out alone, go do your homework.

“Yeah, alright. That’s fine.”

Beca’s shoulders slump and she spares one last lingering look at the broken woman in front of the stove before turning to leave the house.

*

Beca doesn’t have any specific destination in mind as she walks, though not from lack of options. Living in Seattle means that there are lots of exciting places to explore, but Beca isn’t interested in any of them.

So she simply walks, head down, hands buried in her hoodie pocket, her own muffled thoughts swimming around in the cluttered mess of her mind.

She thinks she might pass by some people, and she thinks they may or may not try talking to her, but Beca doesn’t stop for them. She doesn’t know where she’s going, but she does know that she hasn’t gotten there yet.

Beca doesn’t want to think about any of the same old thoughts in her head. She’s tired of them, tired of the way they’ve settled in her brain like a parasite- slowly destroying her from the inside out.

No, thoughts are no good. Emotions are even worse. Her feet are alright, though. Beca chooses to focus on the light sound of her shoes against the pavement as she walks, focuses on how many steps she can comfortably take in between the lines in the sidewalk.

Left right left, line. Right left right, line. Step step step. Heel toe, heel toe, heel toe…

When she eventually becomes aware of her surroundings, Beca realizes that she’s arrived at a small junkyard. She stands outside the fence, looking in for just a moment before deciding to have a look, because why not? It’s not like she knew where she was going anyways.

The junkyard is all around unremarkable. There are a few trashed cars with the windows all shattered and the hoods dented in, lots of old couches and other pieces of furniture, garbage bags full of who knows what, an old baseball bat that Beca picks up and carries around with no real objective.

Beca wanders aimlessly around for a while before deciding that she should probably head home. She left her phone at home, so she doesn’t know what time it, but at this point it’s late enough to be fully dark outside. The street lamps surrounding the junkyard provide just enough light to be able to see clearly.

Something on the path leading to where she came in makes her stop in her tracks. An old, rundown piano stands amongst the various junk cluttering the yard. It’s an upright piano, not a grand like the one Beca has back home. The wood is chipped and faded, several of its keys are missing, and one of the pedals seems to have been completely ripped out of place. Beca has no doubt it was thrown in here for a reason.

Beca slowly approaches the piano, coming to a stop in front of it. She reaches out a finger, not caring about the possibility of contracting some sort of disease, and gently pushes down on one of the keys. The note comes out severely out of tune and tinny, but it plays, and Beca suddenly feels something inside of her crack.

She hasn’t really let herself process the fact that her dad left her. Maybe some part of her hoped that he would come back someday, but the fact of the matter is that he walked away because things got too hard.

What a shitty thing to do; what kind of father would do that to his own daughter?

The baseball bat in Beca's hand falls to the ground with a thud, followed closely by Beca sitting down hard in the dirt. She pulls her knees up to her chest, buries her head in them, and sobs.

She was never going to have a father again, at least not one that truly cared about her. Did anything he ever said to her actually matter? Did he ever really care?

If he actually cared, he wouldn’t have left. He would have kept fighting to make things better instead of leaving Beca alone with a mother who wasn’t even a person anymore.

Beca looks up at the old piano in front of her, offering no support in this moment whatsoever. Memories of her family playing and singing around the piano in their living room surface in her mind, and Beca feels a fresh wave of tears coming on before she hardens her expression. She slowly gets to her feet, hastily wiping her tears away with her fist before reaching down to pick up the discarded bat.

There’s only the slightest hesitation in her movements before Beca brings the bat up and swings it into the front board above the keys. The tip of the bat crashes right through the wood panel and shockwaves travel up the length of Beca’s arms from the impact. Beca pulls the bat out of the small hole and swings the bat again, this time coming down right on top of the keys.

The piano cries out in agony as the keyboard is smashed in, filling the quiet graveyard with a loud, clustered crash. Beca’s heart clenches only a little at the sound before she brings the bat down again. And again. And again.

Beca doesn’t know if she cries while she destroys the piano in her anger-filled haze. She knows that she yells out in frustration after a while, increasing the speed of her hits, releasing a torrent of unforgiving strikes on the old instrument.

When Beca finally runs out of stamina and the fury subsides, she’s left with the sight of a completely wrecked piano: gaping holes throughout, the wood paneling totally annihilated, the keys in complete disarray. Beca breathes deeply and takes it all in, feeling a sense of calm wash over her- the first positive emotion that she’s felt since her dad left.

With a sniff, Beca drops the baseball bat on the ground. She turns away from the destroyed instrument that she used to love so much and starts on the walk back home.

* * *

“I’m going out,” Beca announces as she rounds the bottom of the stairs, glancing at her mom, who’s sitting on the couch. She continues on to the front door without stopping. All she gets is a distant “have fun” before she’s stepping out into the crisp evening air, skateboard in hand.

Skateboarding was something that she never thought she would get into, if Beca was being honest. For the longest time, music was her thing, so when she decided that she was done with music she’d needed something else to occupy her time. A couple of guys from her homeroom class had asked if she wanted to hang out at the local skate park with them, and Beca hadn’t been able to think of any reason to say no.

Beca had only watched from afar the first few times she went to hang out with the rest of the skaters. She’d never even attempted to skate before, so she had been content to be an observer for a while. Then one drunken night a couple of guys had shoved a board in her hands and told her to give it a whirl.

Skating had made her feel more alive than she had in a long time, even if she epically failed on her first few attempts. The rush of adrenaline through Beca’s veins became addictive to her, as well as the feeling of flying and twisting through the air. Beca was hooked on skateboarding almost instantly.

Flash forward to her junior year, where Beca now goes to the skate park at least two or three times a week, if not more. She has a regular group of people she hangs out with- mostly guys, though a couple of girls do make appearances once in a while. She wasn’t particularly all that close with any of them, but their chaotic energy was a welcome distraction from the lingering pain left over from her dad walking out.

Beca rolls up to the park and sees two of her skating buddies, Briggs and Wyatt, lounging and smoking on a bench near the outer edge. She makes her way over to them and hops off her board, flopping down on the bench next to Briggs. Wyatt, sitting on Briggs’ other side, offers the joint he’s smoking to Beca. She accepts it without a word and takes a long drag, relishing in the way her head gradually starts to become fuzzy.

The rest of the park is empty, which means that the three of them have the freedom to act however they want for the time being. They pass the joint around until they’re floating on a pleasant high, which is a common activity for them nowadays. Beca smokes long enough to clear her head, but stops before her senses become too impaired. There’s still skating to be done, after all.

Beca works on some of her moves for a while as Wyatt and Briggs continue to goof off on the bench, the two of them getting progressively weirder the shorter their joint gets. Beca fails at doing a kickflip, and they good-naturedly hoot and holler at her from a distance for messing up. Still feeling the effects of her own high, Beca just laughs along with them and flips them off.

When Beca gets home later that night, she pauses by the entryway of the front room and glances at the neglected piano resting there. Dust clings to the surface of the instrument- a result of a solid year of not being played.

Beca walks further into the house.

Her mom is asleep on the couch, the TV still playing some show casting colors over the room and a half-finished plate of dinner sitting on the coffee table in front of her. Beca sighs and picks up the plate to carry it to the kitchen. She scrapes the leftover food into the trash and puts the plate in the sink before returning to the living room. She switches off the TV and adjusts the blanket to cover up more of her mom’s shoulders, giving her one last sad look before climbing the stairs to her room.

The small stash of alcohol that Beca has steadily acquired in the back of her closet has come in handy over the past year, and Beca takes advantage of it once again tonight. She grabs a bottle of beer and opens the window in her room leading out to the roof, slipping a light jacket on over her flannel before climbing out the window.

Beca likes the roof. It’s high enough that she can see the lights of downtown Seattle on clear nights, and out of the way enough that no one can really see her when she’s out there. She settles near the edge, one knee bent to her chest while the other foot dangles off the side, and takes a swig of her drink.

She searches inside herself for repressed memories and feelings, wondering if tonight was one of those nights where she would contemplate her life so far, but comes up empty. There is only numbness inside, her heart having forgotten how to feel anymore.

Beca doesn’t mind. She takes another swig of beer and enjoys the feeling of complete and blissful nothing.

* * *

Come home ASAP.

The message stares up at Beca from her too-bright phone screen, causing the noises around her to fall away.

She’s at some nondescript house party that Briggs had dragged her to. Parties really don’t have all that much appeal to her before she actually arrives, but once she’s there Beca always finds herself grateful for the noise, people, and possible drugs and alcohol provided there. It’s nearly impossible to be alone with one’s thoughts with all the distractions a high school party can provide.

She’s in the basement, making fun of some overly cheesy porno with a small group of people when the text comes through. One of the girls that liked to hang around the skaters has plastered herself to Beca’s side, and she’d had to reluctantly pull her hand away from idling drawing patterns on her leg to pull her phone out.

Come home ASAP.

Beca has to read over the text again to make sure she’s actually reading it right. She’s been drinking, so surely her eyes are just deceiving her, right? In her two years of going to parties and essentially doing whatever the fuck she wanted, her mom had never cared enough to know when she was coming home, let alone tell her to come home.

There has to be something pretty serious going on, Beca thinks. She starts to panic slightly. Did the police find her stash of weed in the back of her closet? Did her mom fall and hurt herself somewhere and now she can’t get up? Was child protective services there to take Beca away from her uncaring mother?

No, it couldn’t be that last one. Beca was eighteen now, a legal adult; she could technically go live on her own now if she wanted to. Still, Beca figures that whatever is going on is probably worthy of leaving the party for.

Beca sits up slightly and starts to gently push the girl’s arms off of her shoulders. The girl pouts as she pulls away. “Where are you going?”

Her jacket is on the floor next to the couch, and Beca reaches down to retrieve it before pulling it on. “I’ve got somewhere I need to be,” she tells the girl without looking at her. “I’ll see you around.”

That’s all she says before standing from the couch and making her way out of the house, avoiding conversation with anyone as she goes.

The house the party was held at is only a couple of blocks from Beca’s house, so Beca's walk home isn’t all that long. Beca tries not to let her mind travel to the worst possible scenario in that short amount of time.

Beca walks through her front door and is met with the sight of her mother sitting on the couch in the front room with… her father?

A million thoughts and emotions rush through Beca: confusion, anger, joy, sadness, and more she can’t even place. She finally settles on anger, which is her default mode most of the time anyways. She narrows her eyes at her father.

“What are you doing here?” she asks icily, slowly closing the door behind her. Her dad stands up and takes a couple steps forward.

“Beca, how are you?” he asks, seeming relieved that she was there.

Beca ignores his question. “What are you doing here?” she repeats.

Hurt flashes in her dad’s eyes before he squares his shoulders and stands up straighter. “You’re graduating in a month, yes?”

Beca’s eyes glance quickly at her mom, who’s still seated on the couch, but sees that the woman is only watching the exchange quietly, seemingly without any intentions of jumping in. She focuses back on her father. “Yeah, I am, but I was assuming you weren’t coming based on the way I hadn’t heard from you in nearly three years.”

Her father seems unaffected by her cold tone. “What are your plans for after high school?”

“Why do you care?” Beca fires back, feeling aggravated.

He stiffens. “I just want what’s best for you, Bec.”

Beca’s nostrils flare. “Don’t call me that,” she says, deadly serious. “And don’t think that you can just come back into my life and start telling me what to do.”

“And you’re avoiding the question,” her dad snaps. “Are you planning on going to college?”

Beca’s mouth snaps shut and she remains silent, choosing to just glare at him instead.

“I’m taking that as a no, then.”

“Again, why do you care if I go to college or not?” Beca asks.

“Getting a college education is the single most important thing you can do to assure you have a better future,” her dad says calmly. He narrows his eyes at her. “And based on the way I can smell smoke and alcohol on you from all the way over here, you could use some good direction in your life.”

Beca scoffs in disbelief and subconsciously pulls at her shirt a little, as if that will make the smell of the party vanish. She shakes her head. “Yeah, well, I don’t give two shits on what you think I should do with my life,” she retorts. “You can’t make me do anything.”

Her father’s nostrils flare. “You will go get your degree, Beca,” he says, voice rising as he loses his cool for the first time in their interaction. “I am a professor at Barden University, and you can receive a free education because of that- Free!” He emphasizes, gesturing wildly. “Do you know how great of an opportunity that is? Most students would kill for a free college education.”

“I. Don’t. Care,” Beca speaks through clenched teeth, the anger in her growing. “I’m not going to college just because my dad – who left me when I was fifteen – wants me to.” Beca crosses her arms across her chest and meets her father’s eyes, unwilling to back down.

“Beca, he’s right,” a quiet voice says. Beca’s eyes widen as she looks at her mother, who’s still sitting on the couch and looking sadder than Beca has seen her in a long time.

Rage explodes in Beca’s chest. “You’re taking his side?” She yells in disbelief, staring shocked at her mother. “After all he’s put us through?”

Her mom flinches at her words, but doesn’t back away. “You’re lost, Beca. College can help you find out what you want to do with your life.”

Beca’s mouth falls open and she looks between her parents indignantly. “You guys haven’t agreed on anything in five years, but this is what you choose to team up on me for? Dictating my future?” She runs her hands through her hair angrily before clenching them into fists by her sides.

“We just want what’s best for you,” her dad insists.

Beca recoils. “Stop saying that,” she growls. “Stop saying that because I know that’s not the truth. If you wanted what was best for me, you wouldn’t have walked out on us. You wouldn’t have just given up.” Her voice cracks on the last word and she turns away as she feels her throat start to choke up.

No one says anything for a long moment, and it is her dad that finally breaks the silence. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he says, quietly yet firmly. “But it’s the truth. You’re going to college and that’s final.”

A tear rolls down Beca’s face as she shakes her head slightly, still turned away from her parents. Her dad starts speaking to her again, trying to ask her about school and how her life is going, but Beca ignores him and starts walking away instead, effectively cutting him off. She hears a disappointed sigh as she climbs the stairs to her room. Her parents start discussing quietly, and Beca slams her door shut so she doesn’t have to hear them anymore.

There was no way she was doing anything either of them wanted her to do. She was in charge of her own life, and she could make her own decisions.

* * *

Her dad takes the liberty of submitting all her application papers for her. When Beca receives her acceptance letter to Barden University a week before graduation, Beca slams her fist into the wall hard enough to leave a hole.

So much for being in charge of her own life.

Beca felt powerless, pointless, and pitiful. She was going to college, and she hadn’t had any say in making that decision.

[gothfoxx]

Bnha prompt where Easerhead is made to look over the income students files and doesn't like how bakuguo looks. So he goes to see himself and sees how he acts and has proof so in the end even after passing both the paper and qurik exam he is turned down. And bakuguo doesn't know the useless deku is in ua until he sees him win the feastal

Ok I can’t sleep so you get yours early!

Mrs Midoriya was a kind woman that loved her friends fiercely but no amount of friendship was worth seeing her baby boy charred and bloodied. She and Izuku had lost their closest friends but they were both able to grow because of it. Inko filed for divorce and Izuku saw that idled idol worship wasn’t going to get him into hero school without a quirk. They both faced ridicule for ‘forcing’ a mark on an exemplar and honored student. It wasn’t the last mark Katsuki got for harming Izuku while they attended the same middle school.

Every year Aizawa had to wade through stacks and stacks of student entry files. The ones that didn’t pass the written exam or didn’t meet the cut off number of points for consideration had already been tossed so all that was left were those deemed qualified for assessment. Which was all just fancy words for these are the kids he and Ken would be picking their next classes from. This year Principal Nezu had added on an interview to the process, one with the student and their guardian and one with their middle school home room teacher. Aizawa knew it was because he had expelled his whole class last year by the end of the first week so this was Nezu’s way around that problem.

Out of 67 candidates Hero Eraserhead had gone to 43 school rooms and homes. His next stop was Aldera middle school where two hopefuls attended. He was curious about the place that produced both a kid as clever and determined as Midoriya Izuku and a kid as brash and tactically minded as Bakugou Katsuki. He was also curious about the missing pages in both of their files, it could have been a fluke but he wasn’t an optimistic man.

The building was nothing to write home about but Eraserhead knew better than to judge a book by its cover, many had done so to him in the past. He counted his luck that he could finish two interviews with one trip once he set foot into the school. It smelled of mildew and the wooden stairs were warped in places, not a good first impression. The teacher who greeted him at the classroom was a middle aged man with a slight hunch and thin hair. “Welcome Eraserhead sir, we are so honored to have you with us today. We don’t normally have students achieve such feats but it’s no wonder with our promising prodigy Bakugou, we are so proud of him!” Praises the Aldera teacher, as he walks Eraser to a seat at one of the desks.

He notes it as odd the man hadn’t mentioned that they had two students in the running for UA and writes it in the notebook he brought for today’s set of interviews. “Yes Bakugou has shown he has the mind and skill it takes to make it at UA but there is only so much a video and an incomplete file can tell us about a child. So that’s why I’m here today. I would like you to tell me about your students today. Particularly Bakugou AND Midoriya.” He drones only putting emphasis on the fact this was for two students, not just one. The cheerful face the man was wear slips into a exasperated one at the mention of the other student. “Oh so he got into General studies did he, well can’t say I’m surprised. He isn’t much be he has a good melon on his shoulders, could probably get into marketing if he wasn’t so hung up on being a hero, that damn Midoriya.” The teacher ponders aloud like it wasn’t just for show. Keeping a straight face and not just calling the man out on favoritism Eraser pushed forward with the interview.

Drawing out the folder for Bakugou first Eraserhead flips to where behavioral records and notes should have been. “Normally a file will have at least a note or two on student behavior so teachers down the line can help curb bad habits or know how to handle a quirk controll issue. Neither student submission had one which seems like an odd over site. What can you tell me about Bakugou’s history with his quirk and other students?” As he spoke the teacher was growing more and more agitated. “He’s a good student, I don’t know what you’ve heard but he deserves to be a hero! Just because he has a slight temper doesn’t mean he’s a bad kid. That bitch and her son just wanted attention! Slandering a prodigy before he gets a chance to shine? It’s absurd.” Rants the hunched teacher, sounding like a politically backwards uncle. Eraser makes a mental note to stop at the office to get another copy of the files.

“That was informative. Do you have any notes on Midoriya’s behavior?” He asks fearing he already knows the answer. “Like I said before the kid is smart but he is constantly garnering for attention. Probably because he’s quirkless and his father ran off. Mess up him and his mother, they accused poor Bakugou of picking fights and using his quirk in public. Absurd, Bakugou wouldn’t ruin his chances on some nobody like Deku.” Aaaand that was all he need to hear. He would be advising Nezu to investigate this place, the building wasn’t the only thing that smelled.

The secretary seemed like a nice and headstrong lady. When he asked to see the original files she pulled them out of a false bottom in one of her cabinets. She must have been waiting for someone to finally see what she must every day. “I was told to lose these as soon as both boys applied to UA. I’ve seen that poor kid come in fine in the morning and then leave covered in marks or limping home.” She whispers quickly, sparkling purple eyes checking for nosy nellies. “My mom is quirkless and the stories she told me are mother compared to what must be happening to him.” He thanks her and discreetly snaps photos of both files. One taking longer because how large it was.

Bakugou’s sheet listen 7 accounts of bullying since the 3rd grade. And that was just against one student, there were many more of one off fights or arguments. No matter what though it painted the kid as an egotistical narcissist with a God complex who was not above physical violence as a first option. Not what Aizawa would call exemplary or promising. Midoriya on the other hand had no official marks but all his teachers before had called him disruptful and attention seeking. He would have to see for himself at the home interview but he might as well get the one he was sure about out of the way.

So...the Bakugou family was dysfunctional to say the least, Aizawa had been forced to not only use his quirk and also restrain the mother after she attacked her son and made several remarks about her wish for him to “just shape up or go kill himself”. Aizawa felt bad for the father he had tried to calm the situation but his eyes betrayed him, the man had known it wouldn’t work. Now Mrs Bakugou was facing charges of child abuse and suicide baiting, both were small charges but she would still serve time for it. For the two Bakugou men the court would probably suggest therapy for ptsd and whatever non-addressed issues Katsuki would probably had ignored in his childhood.

On the other side of the coin the meeting with the Midoriyas was a short and peaceful affair. The notes on the kid’s file were obviously just the teachers discriminating against a kid that was already delt a bad hand in life. He was definitely having Nezu pick apart that school, hire the secretary too for her smart thinking and strong morals. “Well Ms Midoriya I will be in touch with you soon. And Izuku, you’re going to do great things no matter what you choose to do.” Okay so the kid impressed him...multiple times. He didn’t have a soft spot for bullied kids with minds as sharp as their eyes, no matter what Mic says.

-3 months later-

The sports festival was playing on the television at the support house. The little kids were oohing and awwing. It hurt to even listen to as the students all fought for a spot at the top. Katsuki’s therapist had told him “it is okay to be upset about thing like this but the way you show that emotion should help you get the emotions out not bottle them up.” So he was letting himself be mad and sad and holding onto his dad’s hand for comfort. Another thing his therapist had told him was okay, comfort and crying weren’t weaknesses. Some of the kids were cheering now and one typically shy kid shouted “go green boy!” And there was no way.

Katsuki let go of his dad and moved closer to the tv. The smaller kids gave him room to see the screen. Just as he thought, a small bundle of wirely limbs and green hair slung a slab of metal forward on a pile of canisters. The explosion of pink and red glitter launched Midoriya Izuku, the kid Katsuki had thought he had hated for most of his life, past the losers just hopping over the obstacles and into third place. He joined the kids in their cheers, he wasn’t sure what De- Izu had done to win these kids over but to them he was already a hero. They all watched as he used all of those brains that the Bakugou’s recognized and all of the skill they did not to get further and further through the competition. He thinks his therapist will be happy to know that when Izuku was named that year’s Champion that the only things Katsuki had felt were pride, happiness, and anticipation. He couldn’t wait to get better and be able to tell Izuku just how much he saved him.

Okay so a little different than you probably were expecting buuuut I hope you still like it

[andrewguyspeaks-blog]

Purpose Will Live Long After SuperHeroes Die: The Power of Purpose Beyond Black Panther!

The immortal power of purpose in action is undeniably the greatest legacy mankind or better yet, superhero can leave behind. 

Courtesy: Actor Chadwick Boseman(Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times )

Chadwick Boseman dead at 43 and many people are now wondering if there will be a BP2, #blackpanther2. My answer is an emphatic...YOU BET THERE WILL! Even if #WillSmith had to hang up his Fresh Princely  robe and assume the role of #BlackPanther, without a doubt, a BP2 will emerge. I mean...you can LOL, but they may call me or you to play BP2. You just never know. But all jokes aside... The #Creator of all things, including humanity, is far too creative to not have a future plan. The death of #chadwickboseman, a brilliant expression of creativity-in-motion is a shock to the millions who adored his work as a professional screen #actor, #speaker and performer.

Consider this scenario: The Misunderstanding Many Face.

Imagine you ordered a hot Domino's  pizza on a Friday night as you sat with you boys and or gals waiting patiently for the delivery boy to show up with one slice of your pizza missing...Are you kiddin' Me? Where's that deliver guy? I'm calling TONY! THIS IS RIDICULOUS! I WANT MY PIZZA BACK! Wow, wow...Andrew! Straighten up, Squash the beef and Pump your breaks...who is...Tony? BRUH...! Are you serious? I thought this was supposed to be a SERIOUS MESSAGE to the fans of Black Panther superhero, Chadwick Boseman, your follower and blog readers? Now, who the heck is Tony for #FCOL...For Crying Out Loud? Are you saying I'm supposed to just let this go, bro? Oh no! I ordered a full pizza and that's what I expected; not some crummy leftover pizza with a missing chunk and the delivery boy goes mute while standing at the door with his stretched out dry crusty palm, and beady eyes staring at me expecting a tip. I DON'T THINK SO! NO TIP FOR YOU! Bro, don’t you think you are overreacting here? Some would say. My response...I DON'T THINK SO!  Playing the devil’s advocate is easier said than done. The fact is, anyone would be upset if that had happened to them,  but can you blame me? I mean, who wouldn't be ticked-off, perplexed, and outraged if their expectations were cut short. 

Follow me on this, if you will. Imagine the millions of fans waiting for the sequel of movie that started an unforgettable movement, but only to be cut short of knowing #BP2 (Black Panther II) may not even be played by Chadwick Boseman. What a shock to the visual senses and the cinematic experience of reliving Boseman on the giant screen...hypothetically speaking. I'm sure you would. It's called human beings, being human because they have the ability to comprehend what it means to experience the defeat of loss. In case you missed the purpose and meaning of the message during the Columbo-TONY "Case of the missing slice..."

The metaphorical pun from the pizza animated story is that the pizza is no longer complete if part is missing. Even it’s only a slice. I get it, Andrew, you say. I...get it, bro.  Maybe you do, but you probably don't. Truth is, some will and some won't. BUT there's still a small chance that the light bulb may turn on for some, and the reality of reading between the lines may kick in speedly after knowing that this conversation goes far deeper than the smell of a hot oven or the taste of a risen crust pizza with your favourite toppings. This is not food for thought. The real message is about life, knowing you are going to die some day, living purposefully, understanding your gift, using your talent to skillfully serve others while making a difference and having a positive impact on the next generation. 

It’s about being passionately alive, savouring the meaningful moments as they come, and being able to stand out from the crowd, while fully aware of who you are in this world.

And you say...Andrew E. Guy...WOW! Eureka! OMG! Holy...God, and not the cow!

Andrew, I see it now. Your message is clearly a wake up call to everyone who don't know their purpose for living and those who think they do, but could be doing the wrong life-assignment and living for the crowd.

This is genius. So let me get this right. If I understand this correctly, you are saying #chadwickboseman represents the missing slice of the pizza and while many are hurting because the world will no longer be the same because of Chadwick Boseman's death, the missing slice and a voice in the black community is irreplaceable. 

The Black Panther star will be forever missed.

There have been many deaths this year. Consequently, none of which are coincidental. In each of these death, include that of #GeorgeFloyed, should cause us to reflect on our role in life. 

This leads me to take stock of all the blessings I currently have despite the difficulties I faced in the earlier part of 2020. This year has shock me to the core. It has been a difficult year for me so far: I lost my dad, and my mom got really sick and was hospitalized for many weeks, but by God's grace she made a full recovery. 

Some may call it Knock-on-wood, but I stand on faith believing that time heals all wounds and I'm still hopeful and optimistic of tomorrow and what's to come. We have lost a lot of significant people this year, and my heart goes out to anyone whom have suffered the loss of loved ones in 2020. 

To the Boseman family, his friends, colleagues, business associates and the millions of fans around the globe, this is not the end, but the beginning of something much greater than we've seen in decades.  

And yes, it's sad and it does hurt to see Chadwick Boseman go but even purpose is time-sensitive. And the quicker we accept that everything happens in its time, the faster will be our recovery from the shackles of old wounds and past traumatic experiences. Time is the master, but the Creator is the regulator.  A piece of earth is gone and many have said, that's too soon. But the reality is that even the sports legends and superheroes of our grown-up and childhood dreams must die and go to their perspective places of rest so that new super heroes can take their rightful place in history. Whether you like it or not, we all have to go one day. Some today, others tomorrow....but all one day!

The #goodnews is that the greater part of our legacy lives on...long after the grave.

#ChadwickBoseman will always be remembered, especially for his unforgettable speech on

"The Power of Purpose."

Boseman’s speech is a clear reminder that the most powerful attribute of mankind is the racialization of knowing our purpose in #thecircleoflife, but there's something even greater than knowing.

Any idea what's greater than having the knowledge of something? I'll tell you. It's living that purpose with such passion that others are motivated and inspired by you, but your Creator gets the glory from everything we do. I call this actively pursuing greatness instead of being chased by mediocrity.  

In closing, many have said that there are two major moments in one’s life: the day you were born and the day you die. 

After pondering these cliches and their temporary meanings, It is clear that there are 3 vitally significant areas of existing: the day when you are granted life. 

I call this the gift of life; next is the day when you take action to unwrap your life-gift, discovery your life-assignment (what you were created to do). I call this living; and finally, the greater part of your life and living is the culmination of being ALIVE.

This I call the day when you become aware of who you are, why you are different and so unique from every other creation that you can never be replicated; that one day you will die; that there's only one of you and once your physical time on earth is over, all there is are memories of what you used to be. It is at this time when the cobwebs disappear, the light bulb turns on, your eyes are opened, and your vision, mission and values become so clear that you abandon every other assignments for the purpose and function you were designed to fulfill before you die. Chadwick,  you are the missing slice of our global pizza that the world has seen and behold, and will never taste again, but will only relive the flavoursome moments you've created from your expressed creativity. Thank you for stopping by.  Rest well my brother. RIP. 

About The Author:

Official Website: www.andrewguyspeaks.com Podcast: https://bit.ly/32AyHCN Books by Andrew: Work Your Words | The Anatomy of The Kingdom

Andrew is a bestselling author, best known for “Work Your Words: Finding Your Pathway To Personal Success. He's the host of the Newly Disruptive Podcast “I’M LISTENING I’M READY” ™, a weekly podcast for people and professionals on the go who wants to make positive changes in their lives, where they “LIVE, WORK, & PLAY!”™ ** Sat. @ 10 AM EST

Andrew is a firm believer that "it's not where you start on the track of life, it's how you run the race of living that matters. Through his engaging talks, he inspires executive staff, municipal and city officials, business men and women, developing professionals, school districts, teachers and students,  to develop a deeper understanding of purpose, strive to find meaning in all you do, develop skills, improve relationships, know who you are in your area of expertise.

[lovelylogans]

where you lead, i will follow

previous chapter / chapter four / next chapter

start from the beginning!

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, complicated parental relationships, mentions of transphobia and homophobia, verbal fighting, top surgery mention, classism, off-screen physical altercation (someone gets punched)

pairings: moxiety, logince

words: 4,557

notes: i’m back in the country now and hoo boy jet lag does NOT mess around

logan's reviewing study materials on the bus monday morning. it's fine. the weekend has been fine. he's fine. he should focus on getting into an ivy. that's the priority. he doesn't care about roman getting kissed, roman getting asked out on a date, roman spending the night with—

logan forcibly relaxes his hand before he snaps a highlighter in half.

anyway. he's fine. he has to focus on school. he has to focus on the consultation with the faculty supervisor of the franklin that all journalistically-inclined sophomores are having today. he has to focus on his midterms. 

he's focusing on that plan until he walks into the franklin meeting, sits down, and they're in the midst of talking about some journalism Hot Topics when dee starts loudly proclaiming about how lack of attribution isn't a bad thing.

(your friendly neighborhood journalism student here! as according to the lawyer for the publication i worked for: lack of attribution can often be the sticking point for a libel suit or not. plus, it's just generally good rule of thumb to show readers where i got that information—like how i told you just now i heard it from the lawyer for a publication. that's attribution, though of course in a published article i would include that lawyer's name/title/why they have the professionalism to say that. it's often answering the well why should i believe THAT?! question before it can ever get asked, or at least showing where i got the information, like citing a source in a paper.)

logan, as you know, hasn't had the best week. a nice, bloodless debate about journalism is exactly what he needs.

(when he says bloodless—)

cut to logan sitting in the nurse's office, pinching the bridge of his nose, as dee's getting chewed out in charleston's office. technically, louise punched him, but everyone saw dee goading her into it, so. louise has already been sent packing for suspension, which is apparently a rarity at chilton, and brings him right back into the frame of gossip. just when he'd shaken the matthew nickname.

"well," the advisor for the franklin ("god, please, it's mel or doc or kram, don't say dr. kramschissel, you're wasting time you could be using to tell me about a new story idea") comments. "can't say that i've ever seen someone get hit for saying lack of attribution was comparable to plagiarism before."

"i hope this doesn't sour your opinion of me," logan says, but with all the blood it sounds more like bi hob dis doesn' dour your obinion o be.

"honestly," mel admits, "i've had my eye on you since charleston brought up that you wrote your first byline at seven, sanders."

"oh," logan says, then, "good."

"i don't think this will be a blip on the radar when it comes to admitting you," she says. "honestly, it's points in your favor."

"good," logan repeats, and removes the handful of tissues he's been holding to his nose for the past five minutes, sniffing experimentally. 

"shame about grant," she tuts. "journalists are facing a rough enough time without in-fighting going into it."

logan nods, and she continues.

"your opinion didn't endear you to grant, i'll have you know, but keep it quiet. she got in trouble for plagiarism last year and it's a near thing that she wasn't expelled."

"ah," logan says. 

"not going to ask how i know that?"

"you're a teacher, and a journalism one, at that," logan says. "i'd think you'd want to stay informed."

she smiles. "good guesses are the basis of interesting journalism," she says.

"basis, not journalism in full," logan says. 

"of course, research and interviews and so on, but a good guess can set you down the path," she says, and logan nods.

"so," she says, "you want to be an investigative journalist?"

"yes," logan says simply. he hopes she won't come back with the why? question most adults tend to ask. how does he explain the adrenaline high of a hard deadline, the way he floats after a good interview, the inherent justice of it all, the way that when journalism, done well, changes lives? how does he explain the deeply understood ethics, the sharply defended principles, the roles each journalist is preached to hold—of watchdog, to call on things gone wrong, of marketplace, for people to discuss ideas, of mirror, to reflect society back at itself? how does he explain how do no harm is something he follows not only in journalism but in life? how does he explain the way he felt the first time he published a story that mattered? how can he explain the admiration he feels when he reads the work of others? how can he explain the duty of keeping everyone informed, of reporting on the stories that would otherwise go unheard? how can explain that responsibility? how can he explain that?

but mel smiles at him, and oh, logan realizes. she knows. she has a doctorate in journalism and a pulitzer nomination under her belt and three books to boot. of course she knows.

his phone buzzes. logan glances at it, and then at mel, who says, "oh, go on," and logan picks up.

"logan!" his dad gasps, and logan tucks the phone up under his ear. "the headmaster just called—"

"i'm fine, dad," logan says. "it's just a bloody nose."

"just," his father huffs. "there is no just about my son getting punched in the face! i have half a mind to send your grandmother in there, see if i don't."

"maybe you should," logan says.

"what?"

"i mean, she's closer," logan says. "plus, i mean. what's the use of grandma being grandma if we can't use it once in a while?"

"fair," patton says. "but i'm coming right up, i'm on my way now. should you call her or should i?"

"oh, dad," logan says. "obviously headmaster charleston should call her."

"i have no idea where you got this evil gene from," patton says admiringly, as if logan has not seen patton play innocent to get the upper hand a million times at the diner alone. "all right, i'll call back. how huffy should i get?"

"maximum levels of huffy. your son did get assaulted, after all."

"i can't believe you've been confronted by more delinquents there than you have at sideshire, i'm totally bragging about that at brunch slash our next dinner slash for the rest of time," patton says. "all right. i'll be there soon. i love you so much."

"you too," logan says, and then realizes that mel was listening, and god, that was hardly the language of a proper upstanding journalist—

she laughs like she's heard his thoughts, and she says, "we're journalists, not robots. honestly, seeing you act a bit like a normal teenager doesn't discredit your work."

logan offers a tentative smile, and then, "i thought your pulitzer article was riveting."

"aw, shucks."

"can i ask about—?"

"go for it."

"how did you get the correctional officer to talk to you? korinth, i mean," logan asks, fascinated, leaning forward. 

"well," she begins, and begins weaving a tale about how she'd unveiled a story about suspicious prison deaths across the county, and then across the nation, and logan listens and does not bother resisting the urge to take notes in his notepad, juggling another handful of tissues for his still-bleeding nose with a pen (which she nods at approvingly.)

he doesn't notice the aggravated clacking of heels down the marble hallway getting increasingly noisy until the voice comes with it.

"—incredibly displeased that my grandson got punched by some hooligan, hanlin!"

logan scowls—mel was just getting to the part where she'd finally gotten into the office of a prison superintendent. 

"is that someone of yours?"

"my grandmother, yes."

mel nods, and stands, wiping her hands off on her slacks, and the door flies open.

"logan," emily frets, and logan blinks accusingly at charleston. 

"hi, grandma," he says, possibly overemphasizing the way the bloody nose transfigured his speech. 

"is it broken?" she asks, and snaps at the nurse when she doesn't answer in 0.05 seconds, "well?!"

"it's not broken," the nurse says. "it might hurt for a couple days, but it's not broken."

"small mercies," emily huffs. "what even happened?"

"sanders and a couple other students got into a spirited discussion about attribution in journalism," mel says. "slange was urging grant on—"

"not dee slange?"

"—but grant got rather heated when sanders said that a lack of attribution was close to plagiarism—a view i share, i might add—and her temper rather got the better of her," mel finishes. "and yes, the same." 

"emily, i assure you, the student in question has been suspended," charleston says.

"oh i should hope so!" she hisses. "someone hit my grandson, i will ensure those consequences are enforced!"

logan, internally, is kicking back to watch the show, seeing how charleston shrinks and shrinks in front of his grandmother that reminds him a little of his dad, but in a much less blood-boiling way because charleston actually deserves it. externally, he is sure to look as mournful and as much like a kicked puppy as he possibly can.

"here, here, here!" a much more familiar voice pants, and patton stumbles into the nurse's office, wheezing, clutching a stitch in his side.

"dad," logan starts.

"logan," patton says, "my son," and he sounds upset, immediately crossing over to frame logan's face in his hands.

"how is it still bleeding?! it's not broken, is it?!" he asks the nurse frantically.

"no, it's not broken," the nurse says. 

patton swivels to stare at charleston, and he's genuinely teary-eyed. "you said you'd take care of my son."

"well, now—"

"you did," emily confirms. "you said you'd do your best to take care of my grandson."

"how on earth is this taking care of him?!" patton demands. 

"emily—mr. sanders—"

"how could this possibly be the best school in the state if he gets punched during a scholarly debate?!" patton nearly shrieks. 

"mr. sanders, if you would calm—"

"no, i will not calm down!" he shouts. "how can i possibly trust this school to take care of him if he gets beaten up within its walls?!"

"emily, surely you can—"

"my son's making a valid point," emily says coolly. "i sent one child here, and did you see what happened to him? you said that children would be children. you said you were trying your best to control the bullying. i found my son crying in his bed and hiding any possible sign and refusing to talk to me because it had gotten so bad. my son. when i brought up concerns about my grandson, you said that it had gotten better, and he's been attending for barely two months when i get a call that he's been assaulted?"

oh shit, logan thinks, they're pissed. they're pissed and they're teaming up.

"we should sue," emily says, and patton jabs a finger at her in agreement. "i should have sued when patton was here!"

"well, now, a lawsuit is—" charleston says, sweating very nervously indeed.

"my son's nose is still bleeding," patton says, "and you're telling me that a lawsuit would be overreacting?!"

"dad, grandma," logan says, finally cutting in, because patton might start angry-crying at any second. "maybe not a lawsuit, though i am going to have to protest to dee slange just getting a stern talking-to and nothing else."

"he's not even getting detention?!" patton snarls. "i got detention for politely telling people to respect my name and pronouns, and someone who prodded someone into hitting my son is getting nothing but a talking to?!"

"i agree with sanders," mel says. "the role of instigator is not a small one, and from where i was standing, grant may not have been so incensed without slange's commentary. mr. sanders—patton, isn't it?—i'll personally ensure that slange gets some form of detention, which i'm sure headmaster charleston will agree with, won't you?"

"i do!" charleston says hastily. "or, he will get detention. yes."

"oh, he'd better," emily says. "hanlin, why don't we continue this in your office, and you can outline exactly what your plans for discipline are moving forward. i won't be making the same mistake twice."

"yes," he says hastily. "yes, of course, and an excused absence for mr. sanders, if you'd like to take him home—"

"i will," patton says hotly. 

"emily, if you'd—?"

and they make their retreat.

mel lets out a low whistle. "god, sanders, i hope you can grill a source like that."

"i have good examples," logan admits.

"sorry," mel adds hastily. "dr. melissa kramschissel, but i insist on mel or kram. i'm the faculty advisor for the franklin."

"oh!" patton says, and tries for his best meeting-new-people smile, shaking her hand. "of course, logan's told me all about you. he's very excited to work on the franklin."

"oh, we'll have a place for him, but if you'll excuse me, i think the bell's about to ring," mel says, and nods to him. "sanders."

"mel," he says with a nod, trying not to outwardly celebrate too much at we'll have a place for him. 

"okay, give me your face," patton demands, digging wet wipes out of his pocket. "does it still hurt?"

"a little," logan admits. "i'll probably ice it later."

"i'll be gentle," patton promises, and begins swiping the dried blood off his face. 

"so," logan says, "you and grandma might have terrified charleston into giving me preferential treatment until i graduate."

patton snorts, but his tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he attempts to scrub off a stubborn bit of blood without pressing down too hard. "yeah, well. one of us should have it."

"i didn't realize grandma wanted to sue. when you were here."

"that makes two of us," patton says. "dinner this week is gonna be interesting."

"i suppose it will," logan agrees, and patton sets aside the wet wipe. he frowns, tilting logan's face side to side.

"you're going to bruise up something terrible."

"i'll ice it," logan repeats. "louise grant apparently has a hell of a right hook."

"that she does," a voice drawls, and logan instinctively stiffens as both sanders look toward the door.

"she's a black belt, you know," dee continues. 

"i didn't, but you certainly did," logan grits out. 

"hm, innocent until proven guilty," dee says, with a little bow. "good job on getting your grandmother to solve your problems, logan."

"are you upset i marred your otherwise perfect record, or something?" logan sneers. 

"or something," dee says lightly. "now if you'll excuse me, i have an appointment with charleston to attend. and this," he says, face breaking out into a grin, "why, this has only just ended."

he sweeps off.

"jesus, i've never seen a high schooler so clearly destined to become a marvel supervillain," patton says with a shudder. "that's him?"

"that's him," logan confirms dryly. 

patton pats him on the shoulder, and says, "well, on that slightly unnerving note, you wanna come home?"

logan hops to his feet, and follows patton out of chilton, to the car. they're on the highway by the time patton talks again.

"this has been a rough week, huh?"

"i can't say i've ever been punched at school, no," logan says, sidestepping the other part of his week.

patton scowls, briefly, before he says, "not just that."

logan jerks up a shoulder in a shrug, looking out of a window. "i should be focusing on school anyway. getting into an ivy. they start really focusing on how i'm doing now, so—"

"it's okay to feel sad."

"i'm not sad."

"it would be okay if you were, though," patton says.

"right," logan says. "anyway. we really need to get a new soap dish for the upstairs bathroom, it's been broken for months."

"and i'm here to listen if you wanna talk about it, okay?"

"...we're going to need to call the heating company, too, you remember how it got so odd last year. we might need to replace the unit."

"okay, okay," patton says, and they talk about the house and nothing but the house until they get to sideshire. the length of the drive makes it so that—logan checks—both chilton and sideshire high will have just gotten out of classes.

"you wanna jam tart, or something?" patton offers. "my treat."

"i was," logan says, and licks his lips. "i was actually thinking of going to lucy's and dropping by the studio."

"oh!" patton says, startled. "oh, i mean, of course, but i thought you might be—"

"why should i have opinions on the situation?" logan says. "he's just my friend. it's not like it's my place to say anything about it."

"logan," patton begins, but sighs and puts up his hands. "okay, okay, fine. let me at least drive you to lucy's, i want a double-chocolate shake."

logan gets their regulars, withstands some fussing from patton and lucy, and walks down the street to the studio.

ms. prince has taken over that class, but roman's sitting in the furthest corner from the door, head bent, working on homework. he looks up when the bell rings.

logan holds up the milkshakes in answer, and roman beams at him, waving him eagerly down the hall.

as soon as logan gets close, though, the smile slides right off, immediately replaced by a look of concern.

"oh, my god, what happened to your face?!" roman hisses.

"journalism gets heated at chilton," logan says, and hands over the chocolate-covered cherry shake. 

"someone hit you?!" roman demands, setting aside the shake immediately and taking hold of logan's face (logan's growth spurt means that he's a little bit taller than roman, now. no telling if it'll stay that way, but for now, logan has to get used to the new angle.)

"grandma and dad both came to yell at the headmaster," logan tells him. "now grandma knows that dee slange is... well, the way he is."

"he hit you?!"

"louise grant did, actually, but everyone knows dee goaded her into it."

roman shakes his head in disbelief, cracks open the top of logan's milkshake to steal his maraschino cherry. "you go to school without me for, what, two months? and you got punched. in the face."

"the nose, more precisely," logan says, starting to spoon through the whipped cream. "apparently, she's a black belt."

"your dad yelled?"

"a little, yeah," logan says. "i mean, he looked pretty close to angry-crying, but my grandma definitely yelled. apparently she nearly sued chilton for the way he got treated when he was there. hearing i got punched in the face has kickstarted that desire right back up again."

roman lets out a low whistle, and takes a long slurp of his shake, smiling at it. "um. thanks, by the way."

"i owed you for last time. and technically my dad bought—"

"no! um, not the shakes, but thanks for those too, i guess," roman says. "i just—i didn't know if things would be weird now. with jess and everything."

logan blinks at him. "why would it be weird?" he says, in a carefully normal tone. "we're friends. why should i care if you went on a date?"

roman freezes, lets out an absolutely false laugh, and looks down at his lap. "right," he says, quietly. "right, why should you care."

"how was it, anyway?" logan says, as if an odd and painful thing wasn't clenching in his chest.

"oh," roman says. "it was—nice."

"nice," logan repeats.

"yes. nice."

"roman. i once heard you describe yourself as talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show-stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, and when it comes to your first date, you just say that it's nice?"

"okay, first of all, i can't believe you cannot recognize that i was referencing lady gaga," roman says, "second of all, i was just starting to describe it, calm down."

logan rolls his eyes, and keeps his face frozen in polite interest as he hears roman start to gush about jess, and thinks this hurts worse than his bloody nose.

meanwhile, patton walks into virgil's, shake in hand.

"no outside beverages," virgil says.

"you know what would go great with this one, though?" patton says. "a hot cocoa/coffee."

"you had three cups at breakfast."

"no, virgil, you don't understand, i need another one," patton says. "i actually was in agreement with my mom today—"

virgil opens his mouth.

"but patton, it's monday, you're about to say? well, i got called up to school because logan got passionate about journalism, like he always does, and some—some girl punched him in the nose!"

"wh—is he okay?!"

"he's fine," patton says, "he seemed to think that i was making too big a deal out of everything, he went to get shakes for him and roman. i'm hoping that's a good sign, but i'm just—he got hit, virgil!"

"he's okay, though?"

"bloody nose, nothing broken," patton says. "please can i get a hot cocoa/coffee?"

"i'm sending you home with a dozen jam tarts," virgil decides, and fishes out a mug. "oh, wait, you said your mom—?"

"my mom might have actually killed a man today, i don't know, she made him take her back to his office," patton says. "she was yelling for a solid fifteen minutes before i got there, i think."

"well, if your mom has to be who she is..."

"logan said the same thing," patton says. "he actually said that i should make charleston call, which." his lip twitches. "makes up a little for the time i got a month's worth of detention because i kept correcting teachers on my name and pronouns and ignoring them if they called out my deadname."

virgil high-fives him, face hardened. 

"also it turns out my mom wanted to sue when i was there," patton adds, distracted. "like she started yelling at him about me. i didn't know she was so..."

"loud?"

"upset," patton says softly. "i didn't know she was that upset about it."

"oh."

"i just—i dunno. i always felt so alone back then, and i can't help but wonder..." patton shakes himself, murmurs a thanks when virgil sets the mug in front of him. "it is what is now, i guess. can't change the past."

"i mean, if i could change the past," virgil says, an attempt at a joke, "i'd change the way we met."

patton smiles. "you weren't that bad."

virgil gives him a Look.

"okay, you were a little bad," patton amends, "but to be fair, i was on the verge of a breakdown for days and you fed me basically immediately after, that made up for it."

"well, i'd change it," virgil insists. 

"i wouldn't," patton says, smiling. "i wouldn't change a thing in the world about us."

except for one thing, they both think, except for one thing—

but they don't want to risk it, changing this silent, maybe-unrequited love into something said aloud. not yet.

⁂

logan keeps going to the studio after school. he did that a lot, really, did his homework in the pews, or read the courant, or compiled research for an article, but he'd stopped doing it as often after he transferred to chilton.

it makes sense that his date (boyfriend?) would come to visit him one day.

it's the wednesday after he brought roman a shake, and logan's busy perfecting his outline for his english essay that's due in two weeks when the door to the dance studio opens. logan blinks, looking up, and—oh.

the boy—jess, logan thinks snidely—hovers near the door.

"hell of a shiner," jess says, and he sounds impressed. "what happened?"

"journalism."

jess blinks at him in utter confusion, and roman bounces around the corner, beaming. the dancers (mostly around the age of ten) filter toward their bags. one of them is giving logan a pitying look. logan refuses the urge to bury his face back into his book.

"jess, what are you doing here?! my mom might kill you!"

"i brought you something," he says, bringing a bag out from behind his back, and logan barely suppresses his smirk.

roman hates al's pancake world. 

"oh, hey," roman says, rallying from the briefly disappointed look that flashes almost too quick to catch across his face. "thanks, jess, that's really sweet. oh, i didn't even—jess, this is logan. he's my best friend, he goes to chilton now."

"chilton?" jess echoes.

"it's thirty minutes away," logan says, and jess' eyes drop to the uniform.

"private school kid, then."

"fairly recent, but yes," logan says, trying not to get riled up. "i just transferred in this year."

"logan's going to be a journalist," roman says brightly, "and he—"

"yeah, he mentioned," jess says, cutting roman off. logan tries not to inflate too obviously, because sure, he might cut roman off, but roman always gives him that Look, the 'i'll-get-you-for-that-later' Look, not the way he's scuffing his ballet shoes over the carpeted floor of the hallway right now. but roman rallies, because roman always does.

"he's going to get a pulitzer one day," roman says. 

logan smiles at roman. just a little. "well, i'm not just focusing on journalism for that."

"yeah, but you're so good at it you're gonna get one," roman says. "maybe two. who's the record-holder for pulitzers?"

"carol guzy and david barstow are tied at four."

"amateurs!" roman declares, and logan laughs.

"as interesting as all that is," jess drawls. "should i...?"

"roman has class until six, then an hour's break, and classes again," logan says. "schedule varies depending on his mother, of course, but considering..."

"you could skip," jess offers, and roman actually laughs, before he blinks.

"oh. you're serious?"

"yeah, why not?"

because roman loves teaching the kids. you would have been better off asking if he could skip the sunrise yoga for the over-55s.

"because my mom might actually bludgeon you to death with a pointe shoe," roman says. 

that too.

"what else can she do?" jess says, with an eyeroll.

"oh, you're definitely new to town," logan murmurs, unable to help himself.

"what?" he scowls, swiveling to face logan. 

"you're definitely new to town, for two reasons," logan says, neatly shutting his book as roman slips back into the studio and a shadow looms behind an unsuspecting jess. "one, because ms. prince is rightfully the most feared person in town. and two, you haven't yet learned that she can be lurking around any corner."

jess rolls his eyes. "what, like she's the boogeyman? i think i'll take my chances."

"boo," ms. prince says coldly, and logan doesn't even try not to smile when jess jumps about a foot in the air.

"ms. prince," logan says, slipping his book into his bag and nodding at her respectfully. 

"logan," she says, without taking her eyes off her latest prey. "you have some nerve showing up here without so much as an apology."

logan steps out of the doorway, even as he's loathe to miss a ms. prince lecture directed at someone who's not him or roman, and quashes the urge to do something foolish, like skip his way to virgil's.

[jj-lives]

Keep it Together (sing sing)- bmblb

“Can we make cookies for dessert?”

Ruby’s hopeful voice reaches Yang’s ears where she’s sitting on the couch watching the news.  It’s supposed to rain again the next day, which doesn’t bode well. Another day without pay won’t kill them, but it’s definitely not helping their situation.

“I don’t think so.” Yang flips the channel to some cartoons she knows Ruby likes and returns to the stove where she’s left Ruby in charge of stirring their dinner. “We don’t have the stuff to make cookies.”  Yang looks over her younger sister’s shoulder, approving of the soup’s unburnt appearance and smell. “Good job Ruby, looks delicious.”

“Can I go watch t.v. now?” The younger sibling asks, dropping the spoon already anticipating her answer.  

“Yeah, go on.”

Taking up the spot Ruby vacates, Yang stirs the mix of meat and vegetables.  There’s decidedly more vegetables than meat and even more broth than vegetables.  But there’s enough to last a few meals which will get them pretty close to payday.  

“Can you not go get stuff for cookies?”

Ruby’s using her puppy dog eyes when Yang turns to acknowledge her.  It hurts, because Yang would love to go out and get the cookie dough, come home and spend the evening making and eating them with Ruby.  She wants to give her sister all the things she deserves, the things that make her happy, the things Yang never got to have. But there’s literally less than a dollar in her bank account.  

“Not today.” Is all Yang can muster to say as she turns back to taste the soup.  The carrots are cooked all the way through so she turns off the stove and grabs a couple bowls from the cupboard.  She dishes them both equal amounts, making sure to pour more broth than anything in her own bowl. Ruby needs the nutrients more than she does, the youngest is still growing after all.  

They eat on the couch, in front of the television, laughing between bites at the cartoon shenanigans on the screen.  When Ruby’s finished Yang grabs her bowl and cleans up the mess dicing vegetables has caused on the kitchen counter. When everything is clean once more Yang glances at the clock on the stove.

“Ruby, it’s time to get ready for bed.”

“No, one more episode!” She’s demanding, which means she’s tired and experience has taught Yang that prolonging the inevitable only results in a larger argument.  

“No, get ready for bed.” Yang uses her stern voice so Ruby knows she means business.  Ruby only has two choices, she can either obey and head to bed or she can use the only other trump card in her deck. She chooses the latter.

“Dad would le-“

“But he’s not here, is he?” Yang cuts her off turning towards her, anger flaring.  He isn’t the one putting a roof over her head. He isn’t the one going to school and holding a full time job just so Ruby doesn’t have to realize how fucked up everything is.  He doesn’t care about them and Yang’s sick of Ruby using him as an excuse to not listen to her.

Ruby dips her head ashamed, but she quickly presses a button on the remote in her hand.  The light from the television disappears and Ruby makes her way silently, sheepishly to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Anger deflating, Yang suddenly feels guilt.  Ruby doesn’t know how bad she struggles, because she never lets it show.  She’s always made a point of not letting her negative emotions show around her younger sibling.  Tai’s bad parenting has already taken its toll on her, she wasn’t about to let it affect Ruby’s innocence too.  Yang just wishes she had more money, a better job, just anything really to have set aside. She really would like to be able to have a nest egg where she could take a little out of to give Ruby the things she asked for.  She really doesn’t ask for much, cookies and small treats. Her requests should be achievable, and Yang is blessed that Ruby’s one that can take enjoyment out of the smallest things.

She sits up for another hour before following her sister to bed.  She might not have work but she still has school in the morning.

—-

Yang storms out the front doors of the school. She hates her Physics teacher with a passion.  No matter how hard she tries, she just can’t grasp the concepts. She’s good at math, so she has to assume it’s more his teaching methods than anything else, but he continually calls on her for the answers he knows she doesn’t have. She despises being embarrassed that way.  She’s a smart student, has above average grades, but he makes her feel stupid. Yang has enough negative thoughts about herself, enough doubts on if she’s doing things right when it comes to Ruby, she doesn’t need some pompous teacher making her feel worse about herself. She’s debated dropping out to get a second job- it would help with the money situation - but Yang knows that isn’t what’s right for her.  She doesn’t want to be a negative influence on Ruby, and Yang desperately does want to graduate.

She waits for Ruby in the parking lot, beside the beat up rusted junk she calls her car.  It isn’t much, but she needs it to get to her job. Yang doesn’t even want to think of what they would do if it broke down.  She barely has enough for rent and food to last between paydays, what would they do if she had to fork over any more on fixing her junk of a car?

Ruby’s taking longer than usual, probably caught up talking to one of her many friends.  Yang doesn’t mind waiting today, she doesn’t have to work even though the clouds are dispersing.  She’s happy to wait if Ruby’s enjoying herself. Plus, the fact Yang is probably going to have to pull a double shift to make up for the rain impacting the crews completion schedule doesn’t have her excited for tomorrow.  She’s happy to relax at least for one night.

Laughter brings Yang’s attention to a group of girls her own age.  Yang’s seen them around school, a couple may have even been her friends in an earlier lifetime.  There’s also the new girl; Blake was her name. Yang supposes she isn’t really new, having moved into the area the year before, but in their small town where no one moves into or out of she is still the new girl in Yang’s mind.  

She’s nice enough, from the interactions Yang has witnessed her in.  She hasn’t said a negative word to anyone as far as Yang knows, and generally has a positive standing with most students and teachers.  It’s not something that can be said for all of Blake’s friends however.

“Hey orphan, what are you looking at?”  Yang grits her teeth to stop from escalating the situation.  They’ll soon leave.

“She’s not an orphan, Chelsea.” Another speaks up, Yang can’t tell if she’s defending her or just a know-it-all needing to set the facts straight.

“Even worse,” Chelsea supplies, her perfect brunette hair bouncing as she swings her head in Yang’s direction, blue eyes burning with mischief. “Just means Blondie here wasn’t worth sticking around for.”  Her friends snicker at her comment but Yang notices Blake isn’t one of them.

Blake’s eyes switch from her cruel friends to meet Yang’s for the first time.  Her bodies reaction to the eye contact surprises Yang. The girl is pretty, beautiful even, but her eyes are piercing and it unnerves Yang’s usual confidence enough for her to actually take a shuffled step away from the raven haired girl.  She feels something jab sharply into the small of her back and she winces - she’s fallen back onto the mirror of the car behind her.

Blake’s friends roar louder, Yang’s pain adding to their amusement. The ears, so adorably perched atop Blake’s head twitch, one in the direction of her friends and one trained on Yang.  Blake notices they catch Yang’s attention and she narrows her amber eyes, challenging her? Yang isn’t sure what the look means.

“Hey, sis. Let’s go!”  Ruby bounds to the passenger side of the car, brushing unknowingly past the group of girls making Yang their sport. “Hey, can we get that stuff for cookies today?”

Yang shifts her gaze to her sister over the hood of the car. “Not today.”

“That’s what you said yesterday!” She complains.

“Maybe on the weekend.” Yang tries to placate her, noticing they’re still being scrutinized by the group behind Ruby. “Now get in.”

“Can we get ice cream then?” She’s switching treats thinking Yang’s just not into her cookie idea, and Yang would be touched that she’s thinking of her wants but that isn’t the issue.

“Get in the car, Ruby.” Yang tries more sternly.

“Is that a yes?” She asks hopeful.

“It’s a no.  Let’s go.”

“Why not?”

Glancing over Ruby’s shoulder Yang sees the group of girls whispering quietly to each other.  She knows they won’t stay silent for long, and although she’s sure Ruby doesn’t catch on to the reason she’s denying her, Yang knows the others can guess.  She desperately wants Ruby to get in the car before the older girls point out the unpleasant truth but her sister’s being extra stubborn and Yang doesn't want to make more of a scene by going into parental mode.

“Let’s go guys.” Yang’s eyes dart to find the source of the soft voice and she finds it came from Blake.  Amber eyes hold hers for a moment before they shift to her friends. “I need to get home, and you guys are my ride.” And with that Blake turns and walks further down the row of cars.  Her friends pause, but just shoot Yang matching glares before they move to follow their friend.

Ruby asks three more times on the way home before giving up on the idea of any treats that day.  It digs at Yang’s heart every time she has to deny her. She can tell Ruby isn’t pleased at having the same meal as the night before but she thankfully doesn’t voice her displeasure.  

“You have any homework?” Knowing the answer before she even asks.  Ruby is an honours student and always seems to finish any homework in class.

“Nope.”

Yang hums in response and moves to sit at their rarely used kitchen table.  She’s working on one of the Physic questions that stumped her earlier when she hears a knock at the door.  Confused, because they don’t get visitors, Yang quickly panics wondering if she forgot to pay rent but her bank account proves that she has.

Before she can move Ruby is already swinging the door open, like a visitor is a common occurrence.

“Yang, it’s for you.” Ruby calls, still standing at the door, staring at whoever is on the other side.

“What?” Yang stands and takes a step towards the door.

“It’s one of your friends from school.” Her answer confuses Yang even more.  She doesn’t have any friends, but when she steps around her sister she comes face to face with Blake.

“Hello.” Her voice is just as soft and eyes just as piercing as earlier and Yang is having trouble processing.  

“Hi.”  They stand in silence for an awkward moment and even Ruby seems to notice because she speaks up when neither of the older girls seem to be in a hurry to do so.

“Do you want to come in?” Ruby asks, opening the door wider. “I like your ears by the way.”

“Ruby!” Yang scolds, tearing her eyes from Blake to shoot her sister a disapproving look.

“What?” She asks perplexed. “They’re cute, don’t you think?”

“I-“ Yang turns back to the girl in their doorway, looking for any signs that she’s been affronted by Ruby’s unfiltered nature.  She can’t help but glance up at the ears Ruby has just mentioned. They twitch ever so slightly and Yang can feel her face heat up because yes, they are completely adorable.  

Blake’s melodious laughter fills the room and Yang meets her eyes once more.  They’re less penetrating than before, more gentle in their scrutinizing of the two sisters.

“I was hoping you two would like to join me for some ice cream.”

“Oh my god, yes!” Ruby is already shoving her feet into her shoes before the words can even process fully in Yang’s mind.

“I don’t think-“

“My treat.” Blake cuts her off, giving Yang a pointed look before softening her gaze and looking to Ruby.

“Does that mean I can’t get my usual?” Yang’s about to tell her to just get a normal cone instead of the giant monstrosity she usually gets but Blake speaks up before she can.

“You can get whatever you want.  I’m getting an extra large sundae so I’d rather not look like a pig on my own.”

Ruby squeals and rushes passed Blake, already bounding down the stairs. “Hurry up Yang!” She calls over her shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this.” Yang states but shoves her feet in her shoes anyway.  Ruby isn’t going to take no for an answer now.

“I know, but I want to.” Is Blake’s simple reply.

“Why? You don’t even know us.” Yang asks, stepping out into the hall, locking the door behind them.  “And how did you even know where we live?”

Blake chuckles. “Your car is pretty easy to recognize, and I only needed to knock on a few doors to find out which one is yours.”

“There’s no privacy in this world anymore.” Yang grits, glaring at the neighbours doors they pass, slowly following Ruby’s path.

Blake’s soft laugh at her comment pulls a smile from Yang.

“You know.” Blake speaks up, smiling coyly. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile.”

“What? I smile.” Yang defends.

“Not that I’ve seen, but you should definitely do it more often.”

“Huh?”

“You look really pretty when you smile.” She laughs again at Yang’s dumbfounded look. “And to answer your earlier question, I want to do this because I have younger siblings as well.  I know what it’s like to want to protect them from things, and how much it sucks when you can’t. Everyone needs some help here and there.” She shrugs as you both bound down the flight of stairs.  “I have some food in the trunk of my car if you’d like it. We can move it to your car later so Ruby doesn’t have to know.”

“I can’t-“

“I’d be more upset if you refused, but I’ll understand if you do.”

Ruby is jumping with excitement as they both emerge from the building.  Yang catches the amused smile on Blake’s face at her sister’s antics. She’s glad Blake seems to be enjoying her sister’s energy instead of being annoyed by it like some people.  

“My car’s parked at the end there Ruby.” Blake speaks up giving Ruby a destination.

“Oh my- Yang, it’s black and purple!” She squeals. “It’s so cool.”

“I’ll pay you back.” Yang says once Ruby is out of earshot.

“No need,” Opening her mouth to argue Blake beats her to it. “Though if you must, I am in the search of new friends, my current ones are getting on my nerves.”

“Oh yeah?” Yang smirks.  

“Yeah, they’re definitely too bitchy for my taste.”

It pulls a genuine laugh from her and it feels good, she’s been faking enough of them lately.  When her attention returns to the other girl Yang notices how surprised she looks. Her mouth is parted and eyes wide, ears perked straight up atop her head.  

“Wow,” Blake whispers and Yang raises a brow in question. “You should definitely do that more often too.”

“Come on,” Yang blushes, motioning towards Ruby waiting not at all patiently by Blake’s car. “If we don’t hurry you’re going to see the full wrath of my sister.”

“She’s tiny, what can she possibly do?” Blake laughs.

“Honestly?” Yang feins terror. “You do not want to find out.”

Blake rolls her eyes but moves into a jog. “Then we better hurry.”

Yang laughs again, but follows suit.  The smile Blake shoots her over her shoulder at the sound of her laughter has Yang promising to do it more.  

Anything to have Blake look at her like that again.