#who decided 13/14 was a good number
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Two things about Pit Babe came to my mind after the last episodes:
One, this show could have been thousand times more enjoyable if we didn't have novel readers on our neck breathing every plot point and twist ever. Like, so many things could have been really shocking and the drama built tension around them for it to lost all meaning because of the spoilers already going around.
Two, the fake dead. Listen, fake dying when you have 20+ chapters and enough story to full in the meantime of the grieving and the plotting revenge of your lover (ex. Word of honor): YES.
Fake dying when you have a 13 episode run and more ads than actual story: you could try...but.............
Charlie "dying" isn't a problem at all; the aftermath is. The drama should have shown us he was alive at the end of the episode or built enough story in previous episodes for the viewer to entertain itself with other than said character dying. Is like the drama is fighting over who should have more protagonism: the romance or the plot. Because you either are a romance with a subplot of car races and daddy issues or you are a drama about werewolf with superpowers who coincidentally ended up being together. AND, you have to choose what characters are worth showing and what are more as a tell. Like, tell me why they decided to complete ignore the fact that Kim and Babe hang out once and had more evidence and more targets to work on against Tony? Kim is...sleeping in eating in Alan's house while Babe roots in grief and depression. OR, why they showed Tony so early when they could have kept this big man on the shadows and work around the idea that a lot of the lost brothers of Babe are also victims and each have their own plan against him? Also, each character has his own hidden agenda and I am getting a little frustrated about how no one talks to anyone about literally anything; this isn't even a miscommunication trope, they are communicating, just not what actually matters.
Anyway, I am a little scared of the root the drama is heading to but I am also excited to see what else they are going for
#pit babe#pit babe the series#thoughs being thoughten#me making everything about woh bc why not#so many things happening not enough time#who decided 13/14 was a good number#give me filler episodes im begging
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FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE
Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.
⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader
⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.
⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+
⊹ 👩🏼❤️👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤
⊹📘Number of part: 20/?
⊹ Words: 123,252k
⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words.
⊹ 🫂Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You are my favorite person 😘🥰 You know that I appreciate you so much and love you🥰💜
⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!
⊹ 📋Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou, @nikkinikj, @lovelyyylunaa222, @jiminiemanura, @jalexad, @kelsyx33, @bhonbhon, @unholyforjk (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)
≣ Chapter Index ↓
⌖ Part 1. These fucking rules.
⌖ Part 2. In theory.
⌖ Part 3. The most real type.
⌖ Part 4. Taste of divine.
⌖ Part 5. Someone from the past.
⌖ Part 6. A school friend and an offer that's hard to refuse.
⌖ Part 7. A good student.
⌖ Part 8. That man driving the Mercedes.
⌖ Part 9. Knows what no one else knowing.
⌖ Part 10. Mine.
⌖ Part 11. Not your girlfriend. Not your boyfriend.
⌖ Part 12. Christmas trip to Niseko.
⌖ Part 13. Between despair and desire.
⌖ Part 14. A gift for Christmas.
⌖ Part 15. Who are you, Jungkook?
⌖ Part 16. Read my love.
⌖ Part 17. The flame of sympathy.
⌖ Part 18. Dangerous.
⌖ Part 19. Kidnapped under the glow of fireworks.
⌖ Part 20. House of Cards.
#jungkook#bts#bts jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook x f!reader#jungkook smut#jungkook friends with benefits#bts mafia au
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bear hugs au masterlist (cl.16 x bearman!reader)
hello loves! and welcome to the masterlist for the bear hugs au! I'm so so excited to finally be launching this officially as part of my celebration for 1k followers! you guys loved the original fic so much and have asked for part 2 and more so I decided to launch it as a full series. as always, please let me know what you think! happy reading! love mimi 🤍 thank you to @arieslost and @thebearchives for beta reading and helping me brainstorm ideas! and thank you to @scuderiahoney for teaching me how to make the collage headers! taglist : @alessioayla @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @weekendlusting if you'd like to be added either comment on this masterlist post or send me an ask!
SYNOPSIS: step into the world of you and ollie bearman and your boyfriend charles leclerc. a selection of longer fics and shorter drabbles with a sprinkling of social media chapters. not written or posted in chronological order! warnings will be posted for each individual part ˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚ ˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚ ˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚ ˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚
✧ - fics | 𐙚 - drabbles | 𓇼 - smau | ☁︎ - suggestive chapter
1. love you to the end of the line 𐙚 how ollie's and your pre-race ritual began
2. celebrity crush 𐙚 ollie learns about your crush on charles leclerc
3. season highlights 𓇼 your post for ollie after the f2 season (referenced in the original fic)
4. bear hugs (the original fic) - the one where they meet ✧ you join your brother Ollie at his first F1 race and bump into Charles
5. the one with their first date ✧ you're extremely nervous for your first date with charles. ollie plays his brother role very well and tells charles exactly what he expects of him
6. these comments are crazy 𓇼 ollie can't stand watching you and charles flirt in his comments
7. the one where they all go racing ✧ your first race weekend as a couple with charles! ft. ollie and his annoying commentary
8. the one where he should have knocked ✧ ☁︎ ollie learns he needs to knock and you learn you needs to lock the door
9. happy birthday to you 𓇼 charles and ollie's posts to you on your birthday (ft. arthur leclerc and other drivers)
10. the one where ollie lives alone ✧ four times ollie learns that he needs your help and the one time you decide enough is enough
11. *gasp* they were teammates?! 𐙚 ollie gets the call from ferrari for 2025 and now you don't know whose number to wear on race weekends
12. we may as well be parents 𐙚 arthur and ollie come to stay and you and charles feel like you're playing mom and dad to two toddlers
13. hey now, this is what dreams are made of 𐙚 you finally get to follow your dreams and ollie finally lets go
14. the prank war 𓇼 it's the bearmans vs the leclercs... who will win?
15. the one where with the ring ✧ charles asks ollie for his blessing and ollie helps charles plan a surprise you'll love. (ollie learns he’s surprisingly good at hiding and camouflage)
16. bear meet world, world meet bear 𓇼 you and charles have a new puppy and his name is... not exactly original
17. the one where there's a party ✧ its a big day for you and you're very emotional. ollie reassures you that you'll always be a bearman and puts charles to the test
18. there's a new baby bear in town 𐙚 you and charles tell ollie and arthur your exciting news
#mimi.writes#bear hugs series ˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 fic#f1 fluff#f1 series#f1 social media au#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc series#charles leclerc instagram au#charles leclerc social media au#ollie bearman x you#ollie bearman x reader#ollie bearman fluff#bearman!reader
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friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt.14
pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami
synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.
warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)
a/n: AHHH IM BACK YALL, IM SO SORRY I WAS GONE. life was doing its thang, but i have returned! here is a nice, warm part in attempts to apologize for my absence xo this might not be checked for spelling or anything so pls forgive me. its late and i have a baby cold but i wanted this part to come out already!
all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8, pt.9, pt.10, pt.11, pt.12, pt.13,
December | Tokyo, Japan | Tuesday (after work)
“Haibara, he likes me!” You screech into your phone. Your pillow was at the mercy of your ecstatic chokehold. “The Nanami likes me!”
You had spent a good portion of your night talking with Haibara. He truly was the only one who you could share your excitement with, considering his friendship with Nanami. He was the only one who understood the stiff blonde and appreciated how you managed to sway his feelings. But, on that same note, he knew you pretty well and was the best at teasing you.
“You’re quite excited for someone who won’t give him a chance yet,” Haibara teases you. You frown at his words, hoping he’d react like you did. “Why don’t you just let him win you over already?”
“Because!” You reply sharply, jabbing your finger in the air. “He has to earn it, especially after what he’s put me through.”
Haibara lets out a sigh, “and if he decides to change his mind?”
You huff at his distasteful question, “he won’t.”
Haibara lets out a small snort, “didn’t realize you knew Nanami for as long as I have. My bad.”
Sucking your teeth, you sprawl your limbs out on your bed, your eyes distantly staring up at the ceiling, “you know I don’t know a whole lot about him… but he’s different towards me now. There’s something there that wasn’t there before.”
“Can’t argue with that one,” Haibara admits reluctantly. “I’ve never seen Kento act like this. He’s always been to himself.”
You smile triumphantly at his words, “it feels like I like him more because of that.”
“Don’t start,” Haibara taps at your confidence a bit. “Anyhow, let me leave you. I’m gonna order take out and watch a drama.”
You pout but nod to yourself, “thanks for the chat, Yu. Have a good night!”
“You as well, Y/N.” Click.
You toss your phone to the side, a wide smile lingering at your lips. Nanami has intentions to conquer you. And it wasn’t like you were going to deny him, despite prolonging his torture. He could write his confession and pass it to you like in grade school, and you’d still check the ‘yes’ box. Your stomach felt queasy at the thought of his re-attempt, considering his first confession still remained in your mind.
Albeit how that bad night went.
Inspired by Haibara (and the growling of your stomach), you get up to order yourself a bit of food as well. As you waited for the order, you fix up your hair so the delivery person didn’t think you were a hobbit. While you adjusted your face, your phone began to ring in your bedroom. You rush to fetch it, your stomach tossing with excitement for the food. But when you blindly picked up, Nanami’s raspy voice came into sound.
“Good evening, Y/N,” Nanami hums quietly, “how are you doing?”
You felt yourself stiffen, “a-ah, good evening, Nanami! I’m well– and yourself?”
“I’m doing well, thank you,” Nanami replies, his voice as smooth as butter. “What are you up to tonight?”
You awkwardly pull at your holiday PJs and smile embarrassingly to yourself, “‘m home. Just finished ordering some dinner. Is um, is there anything you need, Nanami?”
“Ah–” Nanami’s voice halts, the breath that follows filled with hesitance. “I didn’t want to alarm you, but I am at the lobby of your building.”
You jumped, goosebumps raising all along your arms. “U-um, can I ask why?”
“I, um…” Nanami’s voice streams off for a moment, heavy breathing ensuing. You assume it was because of the cold, and potentially the exhaustive walk over to your house. “It is a little embarrassing to admit, but my night is not going well.”
“Oh?” You were surprised. You’ve never seen too much of Nanami’s emotions until recently, upon his acknowledgment and confession of his newfound feelings for you. It was strange to hear the twinge of sadness in his voice, and his reticence to admit his woeful feelings. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is okay,” Nanami confirms, “but the thought to come see you felt right.”
A streak of red appears on your cheeks, “a-ah! Is that so…”
“Of course, feel free not to invite me in,” Nanami hums quickly, “I can understand the inappropriateness and suddenness of me appearing at your building. I apologize for springing this onto you.”
It’s true. You two were not dating, and weren’t near being official by any stretch. Nanami, just previously, was your boss, the person you looked up to. He signed your pay stubs and was the person who validated your work and relied on you to do his job well. He is not at the point to come to you and cry on your shoulder. It was simply the status quo not to do wifey things for someone who hasn’t even given you the title of girlfriend yet.
But, this was Kento Nanami we were talking about.
“Come upstairs,” you hum. You hang up, and look back to make sure your apartment was clean. Seeing that it was spotless, you quickly check yourself in the mirror, making sure your hair looks nice. Although you lamented not putting on at least some makeup, you were at that point in life where either he likes you as you are, or doesn’t and spares you that horror. You pull down your black sweatshirt, immediately realizing that it was not yours, but the one you borrowed from Tae.
You let out a sigh. You washed his sweatshirt with the rest of your laundry, and then just assumed it was yours as it was in the pile. You rush to the kitchen to make a note to return the sweatshirt. As you finished the sentence, a quiet knock was heard at your door. Your feet quietly tip tap over, gently unlocking everything. As you opened the door, you were met with a bag of food in your face.
“Hold this,” Nanami sounded, his large hand dangling the delicious smelling food before you. Your eyes lingered on Nanami, before looking over at the delivery man right behind him.
You quickly put the food on the coat rack, and bow at the delivery man, “let me grab the money, please give me a moment.” As you prepare your stride, a cold hand grabs your forearm. You turn around to look up at Nanami, who gives you a small smile.
“Don’t worry about it,” Nanami hums. He turns to the delivery man, takes out his wallet, and pulls out a large bill. “Thank you very much. Keep the change as your tip.” The delivery man beamed at his large tip, bowing contently at Nanami before rushing down the stairs.
You could only stare at Nanami, as he let go of your arm to let himself in. He locks the door behind him, and begins to strip off his winter garments. He was… wearing glasses. You ogled at him, your heart strings being pulled at. His jaw was clenched, his breathing getting used to the sudden warmth of your home. His hair was once again messy, his body ornate in comfy clothing, very contrasting to his usual office get up.
Nanami notices your eyes, and smirks, “never seen a blind man, Y/N?”
“A-ah, I’m sorry for staring,” you quickly apologize, “I don’t see you in glasses often.” A strand of his hair lands on his forehead.
“Ah, well,” Nanami’s entire body faces you entirely, and he pushes up his lens with his middle finger, “wearing contacts at night increases the risk of forgetting that they’re still on. I usually remove them the moment I get home.”
Here’s the Nanami you know best, “that’s a good point.”
You two stand in a bit of awkward silence before you look up at Nanami and gesture to the living room, “would you like a cup of tea?”
“That would be wonderful, thank you.”
He takes his seat on the couch while you bring your food over to the kitchen island. You quickly ignore it to put a water-filled kettle onto the stove. “Honey, sugar?”
“Hold on both, thank you,” Nanami hums.
You nod, quickly paying attention to your food. You look over at him awkwardly, “are you hungry? I had no idea that you would be coming, I would have ordered more food…”
Nanami quickly raises his hand, “please, my visit was completely unprecedented. You couldn’t have prepared for it.”
You quietly stare at him. You could see the distance in his eyes, his hands resting on his knees. One of his legs bounced with some sort of anxiety, his thumbs twiddling around one another. You noticed that he barely kept his gaze towards you, looking back down after each brief silence. It felt like there was a bubble around him that he wasn’t quite ready for you to pop yet.
With a small smile, you bring out two plates and carry it with the bag of takeout. You join him on the couch, and quickly begin to unbag your food. Nanami only watched as you began to divide your food in half. He quickly sits up and holds your forearm gently, stopping you from continuing. “There is no need, please enjoy your meal, Y/N.”
“Food always makes me feel better when I don’t really feel the best,” you hum quietly. You gently remove his hand from your arm and give him a curt smile. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
He looks at you, grimacing a bit. You squeeze his hand reassuringly before putting it down to continue separating the food, “I hope you like stir fry with rice, ‘cause that’s what I got.”
Nanami could only stare at you with awe. There was something there that he couldn’t quite explain. A feeling. A semblance of safety, and some sort of nostalgia. As you divided the food in your comfy clothes, he couldn’t help but feel like it should have always been this way. He watched as you cut up a few of the vegetables and meat, and added extra gravy to his plate.
“Y/N,” he starts with another futile attempt.
You look over at him and smiled, “I have soda and beer. Which do you fancy more?” As you waited for his answer, you noticed the food was just warm. “Ah, let me microwave these a bit.”
You carry the plates over to the kitchen and begin to microwave them, finding the opportunity to prepare his small cup of tea upon the boiling of the water. You prepare the herbs and bring it to him, the greens steeping in the water. He takes it from you gently, his eyes still glued to you as you go to the fridge and look over at him. “Have you decided?”
He blinks for a few moments, “a beer, if you don’t mind.”
You grab two beers and pop the caps with the bottle opener on your fridge. You join his side once again and place his beer on the available cup holder near him. Nanami’s hazel eyes stare at you, with your hand eagerly holding your beer, waiting to toast. He quickly puts the tea down and takes the beer in his hand, earning a few giggles from you.
“Are you anxious, Nanami?” You asked, your voice breathy. “I have some oils I can burn if it’ll help put you at ease.”
“No, no, it’s not that at all,” he begins quietly before he clinks his beer bottle with your own. You both take a swig. His Adam's apple protrudes alluringly, his bottom lip shining with the carbonated booze. “It’s just that…” Before he could finish, his eyes burned down at your sweatshirt.
You join him and look down, searching for a stain, “ah, did I spill something already? I just washed this, and it’s not even mine…”
“This isn’t your sweatshirt?” He had a hunch, but he wasn’t looking forward to being right.
You nod, “it’s Tae’s, the barista you hired? He lent it to me when I was starting to get that bad cold I got recently.”
“Ah.” It was the only word that came out of Nanami’s lips. He silently grabs your beer and puts both drinks down on the coffee table. As the ringing of the microwave sounded, you watched as Nanami stripped off his own sweatshirt (a beautiful navy blue shade) and put out one of his hands. You stare puzzled before you notice he begins to flick his middle finger, requesting the sweatshirt you were in.
Obediently, you strip the sweatshirt off, feeling your cheeks warm from the Hello Kitty shirt you had underneath. But Nanami pays it no mind, his hazel eyes unwavering as he fixes his sweatshirt before pulling it over your head. He lets go, allowing you to pull down the sweatshirt. The immediate smell of green tea and hinoki wood intoxicates you, the scent of Nanami taking you over. You could get drunk from his smell, unable to contain the feelings in your heart.
“Please feel free to ask me for warmth whenever you are cold,” Nanami instructs, his eyes satisfied with your new look. He reaches over your face, and pushes a strand of loose hair to the back of your ear. “This color suits you nicely.”
You can feel your face go completely hot, “y-yeah?”
“I’d like to see you wear my dress shirts someday,” he says with a cheeky smile. You then jump, your face completely flushed. Nanami searches your face, confused by your reaction. But he quickly bites his tongue, realizing his words slowly. “A-ah, I’m sorry Y/N– that was highly inappropriate.”
“It’s fine! I think the food is ready!” You escape by rushing over to the microwave, slowly bringing over two steaming plates of food. You put both plates down and retrieve the remaining plastic utensils and condiments from the bag. Fixing his plate, you quickly gesture to his plate, giving him the go to eat.
As he picks up the plate and fork, you quickly grab a few napkins from the bag and place it by him on the table. “I hope it’s not too hot,” you murmur quietly as you pick up your own plate. “I’ll wait for you to eat if you want it to cool down a little.”
Nanami shakes his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips, “I can eat hot food, Y/N, don’t you worry.”
“I have to worry about you, Nanami,” you say simply, “can’t do much about it now.”
In this turn, Nanami felt his own heart skip a beat or two. He couldn’t help but stare at you adoringly. Despite not being able to talk about his woes, you didn’t force it out of him either. He never realized the power of companionship until he was here, eating half of your full meal, in your extremely warm apartment while you were in your PJs. He had always thought ethereal women always remained in the books of fairy tales. But then here you were, eating your food with your plate almost a little too close to your face so you didn’t spill and soil his sweater.
“Mm!” You hummed with a mouth full of food. Quickly chewing and swallowing, you looked up at Nanami, “please tell me how much you gave the delivery man. Let me pay you back before you go.”
Nanami looks down at you and shakes his head, silently turning to his food to begin eating. “Technically I am eating the food, therefore I owe for the meal as well.”
You snort, “I offered you half, Nanami. So with your logic, I owe you half.”
Nanami puts his plate down quietly. He picks up a napkin and dabs his lips clean before taking a swig of his beer. “Y/N, every time I come to your home, there seems to be a trend where bad things happen.”
You look at him, your expression puzzled, “how do you mean?”
“As in, every time I’ve come to visit, something unexpected happens, typically leading to something unideal for you,” Nanami says quietly.
“Ah, please don’t say that,” you say in a sad tone, “it’s purely coincidence that everything has happened the way it has.”
“Right, but now I think it’s true,” Nanami hums, looking over at you. There was an unwavering seriousness in his expression, his hazel eyes warm yet convincing. “It’s nothing bad, truly, but it is quite dangerous.”
“What is?” You reply in a whisper.
He leans over to you, his face beside yours, “my feelings for you are developing in such a way where I might accidentally skip a step or two in this relationship.”
“H-huh?” You let out in a stammer.
He backs away, but takes your hands into his own. He gives your hands a light squeeze, his smile capable of curing all woes you could have. “I have no intentions to rush this relationship,” Nanami begins, “once I make you mine, my intentions are to go at your pace completely. But I need you to understand that my feelings for you have progressed further than the current state of our relationship.”
You eye him, feeling your face burn to a crisp. “A-are you trying to s-say that you…” Your eyes fall down to your legs, your heart unable to take this much feeling in the air.
Nanami quickly chuckles, “maybe not that far, but I’m realizing now that I really do need you in my life. Because if you can make me feel better without addressing my sadness directly, then I believe I’ve always needed you in my life.”
You felt your mind go stupid, your heart going into emotional cardiac arrest. “Nanami… anybody would do this for the person they care about.” Your voice was weak, quiet. You were always ready to undermine yourself. But Nanami will never be taken by it.
“Right, but I’m glad I’m being cared about by you,” Nanami hums, “I don’t care about anybody when my eyes and heart are set on you.”
You weren’t sure what was in the air, but considering Nanami’s hold on your hands and his adoration-filled eyes, you weren’t prepared for what was going to happen next.
Taglist (OPEN)
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@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn
@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist
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@fashionably-a-hippie
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk smut#nanami kento#jjk nanami#nanami x reader#kento smut#kento nanami#kento x reader#kento x y/n#kento x you#jjk kento#jujutsu nanami
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Wicked Gelphie fans, i need you guys so badly to know how well Elphaba/Glinda are "good timeline"d "history doesnt repeat, it rhymes"-ified by Dorothy/Princess Ozma in Baum's original Oz book series. like. Dorothy/Ozma get everything; theyre the sweet, intimate friends-to-"??? are they a couple?"-ified political power-sapphic-duo that Gelphie would have wanted to be. like??
if you merge canons, fam... Wicked-Glinda must be struggling, seeing Dorothy/Ozma be everything she and Elphaba could have been.... omfg... the angst potential, the envy of watching a couple of sapphic childhood sweethearts get everything they were denied, fulfill Glinda and Elphie's dreams, and seemingly so easily too...
(also!! they even CAN look like a kid-Glinda and kid-Elphaba! there's canon to justify that kind of appearance paralleling!!)
faq below if you want more context
edit, psa: i did read these books from like.. the ages of 10 to like 14 or so, maybe as young as 8? idk, i dont remember. anyway. its been a decade since i picked them back up. and i didnt think this would gain as much traction as it has been after 100+ notes in less than 24 hours. uh. so. take my chronic memory loss-addled summarization with a grain of salt?? like? i just wrote this post so i didnt have to re-vent (agAIN) to my friends about how much i fucking love Dorothy/Ozma, period, much less in parallel to Gelphie. so. enjoy, carry on, and whatnot lmao
1️⃣: there's Oz books? plural???
yes, Baum wrote 14 books about Oz, actually. also, he wrote them under the appointment of "the royal historian of Oz" instead of "author", so there's other "official" Oz books by other "royal historians of Oz"
Baum wrote so much bc (he needed money, yes, but also:) kids would send him questions in fan-mail, and he would proceed to answer them via new novels. so he never planned to make more Oz books, he just (wasnt good with money and also) was routinely inspired by the kids who wrote to him and would write the stuff they wanted to learn about Oz and whatnot
2️⃣: does Dorothy go back to Oz? wasn't it all a dream for her??
yeah, Dorothy returns to Oz a lot in the books, she eventually even moves to live there permanently. bc, in the book series, it's a real place
only in the 1939 film was Oz ever a dream
3️⃣: how does Dorothy look like Glinda OR Elphaba?? what are you talking about?
okay so, "The Wizard of Oz" has an illustrator, W. W. Denslow. in the book, Dorothy is confirmed to be wearing a blue-white gingham dress (she changes outfits tho, she doesnt always wear the same dress all 14 books like she's some cartoon character); but im pretty sure her hair was all Denslow(? i could be remembering wrong. p sure im not tho??). this is what the 1939 movie based her appearance off of. so i can see why youd go "she doesnt look like Glinda or Elphaba"
BUT Denslow and Baum started feuding. so for the rest of the Oz books that Baum wrote, he had a different illustrator by the name of John R. Neil
and Neil decided to give Dorothy for every one of the books he illustrated (so, 13 of Baum's books to Denslow's 1 book of Baum's) a cute lil blonde bob, making her look like what i assume blonde-Glinda looked like as a child. i think she'd approve lol
so!! Dorothy very much looks like a trendy little Glinda, with her cute blonde bob, her fashionable drop-waist dress, and bows for most of the Baum series, actually!
(also, Neil had a preference for dressing Dorothy in this red and polka-dot number, but, again, she does wear other outfits)
(lmao also look at Tin-Man and Scarecrow with blonde-Dorothy, they look like her two gay dads encouraging her to just go be herself at school?? i love them)
(also, if you see "Eloise At The Plaza"-energy in this Dorothy design, im right there with you lol)
4️⃣: who is Ozma??
she's the Princess of Oz. she eventually appears in the second book of the series. she rules Oz after the Wizard
she's actually a really interesting transwoman allegory too. (spoilers for a book from the early 1900s?) she was born a little girl named Ozma, but has a spell put on her as a baby to be genderbent and was socially raised as a little boy under a different name, and she later realizes who she truly is: a girl. she finds the transformation scary, as she returns to her girl-form she always truly was, but she feels better and more herself now that she is Ozma again. i dont think L. Frank Baum intentionally wrote her to be a trans allegory, but you can very obviously see why our trans elders fucking LOVED Ozma back in the early 1900s
also, she has a similar "sir, you fucked up" relationship with the Wizard as Elphaba*. and, also like Elphaba, Ozma politically tries to make things in Oz better (just.. unlike Elphaba, Ozma has the power and support to do just that p much asap)
* (edit for contextual clarification on how the Wizard fucked up: the Wizard fucked up with Ozma because he is ultimately and p directly the reason why she was genderbent/hidden. he deposed of her family and sent her away. Baum decided later on to backtrack a little bit on this(?) because he wanted to bring back the Wizard and, in order for Baum to do that, has to try to not make him SO terribly horrible??? so like. Ozma does end up forgiving him and tolerates him amd he's nicer, later on, within the books. but i doubt any modern adaptation of the books would follow that, personally. even as a kid, i went "bullshit" and headcanoned that Ozma fucking hated the guy and, at best, MAYBE tolerated him for Dorothy, but overall did not like him for justifiable reasons! i think the direction society seems to have taken the Wizard is interesting, and i wouldnt be surprised if there was at least one future adaptation that made him The Bad Guy in a very Rumplestiltskin in the Once Upon A Time TV show kind of way. but like. in the books, they do END UP getting along. i just forever disagree with Baum on that lol i think the Wizard fucked up, and in book 2 of the series (the one where Ozma is, y'know, introduced), it is obvious the Wizard FUCKED UP. but yeah. also, Ozma does get her dad back. her mom was kind of never in the picture to begin with, specifically in a Ponyo's Mom kind of way, like, she made Oz and then left it for her husband and kid to rule, so. yeah. im getting off track. my point is the Wizard did a full-on coup on her family and then banished her and genderbent her so no one would recognize that she had claim to the throne he was sitting on!! he fucked up! so, like, i personally hc that Elphaba founded the "i hate the Wizard" club to which everyone slowly joined, like Fieyro and etc, and Ozma is their youngest member. the Wizard did both Elphie and Ozma so dirty, omfg)
it also should be mentioned, Ozma in NBC's "Emerald City" was casted as Black (her actress being Jordan Loughran). so, though Ozma does not have green skin (but also? neither did the Wicked Witch of the West in the books, she wasn't green there. that was a 1939 film decision to make her green. so! Ozma could be green!! why not!), but she does have Black features to theoretically remind Glinda of Cynthia Eviro's Elphaba when you consider that casting. or, if you prefer a Jewish!Elphaba casting, a'la Idina Menzel's Elphaba, i think Ozma's book design works well to interpretively parallel those features too. or both, if you like the sound of a Black-Jewish Elphaba and Ozma paralleling lol
(edit, because i thought i mentioned this but? no?? i didnt?? i must have misclicked or something to have deleted the paragraph. im so sorry, here you go:) also, when Ozma was a boy, she was basically enslaved to her jailor of a caretaker. which one could interpret as "oh, a Cinderella story!", sure. but, with a Black Ozma, it does read as an intergenerational grief-formed power-fantasy that is both empowering and poignant for Ozma to have ran away from her enslavement and gone on to become a princess afterwards. to any Black folks who may be going "is this going to trigger me?" about Ozma having been a child-slave, i remind you that Baum wrote this intentionally for children, so, no, the books do not sit in the trauma and horror of enslavement, but whether or not it would trigger you yourself is up to your discretion. i will say, Baum did NOT write the American Girls' Addy of his time (context: a children's book about a child-slave that does go into the horrors, some, though in a kid-friendly way) or Louis Sachar's Holes (i asssume i dont have explain Holes since its movie was such a hit), i remember it as even more kid-friendly than either of those also-children's books, so i would assume most people would be fine? but you are responsible for your own mental well-being, i urge you to confirm if it is fine for yourself however you need to do that. but, yes, you can use this backstory as further evidence for your Ozma being Black, of course! you can have Ozma be Black regardless, but if you want this as further evidence, go ahead! and also, it does parallel Ozma to Elphaba in the sense that Elphaba's family mistreats Elphaba! (i will, regardless of if you prefer a Jewish and/or Black Elphaba, add that doing so is also a nice "fuck you" to Baum in how, being a white man of the late 1800s and early 1900s, did end up throwing in racist and/or antisemitic caricatures here and there within his 14 books, unfortunately. i, an Indigenous American, remember as a child still immensely enjoying Oz despite Baum being racist towards Native Americans. if youre curious on the egregious level of it all and if the story could still be enjoyable, id say it's in the realm of Peter Pan, Willy Wonka, and Matilda of "wow. that is shitty. im going to pretend this thing i love is good instead via cognitive dissonance")
regardless, in John R Neil's illustrations, Ozma does have black hair, so that too coincides with modern understandings of Elphaba
(there is also her appearance in Disney's "Return to Oz", performed by Emma Ridley, where she is blonde. but, though i love that spooky movie, that's neither here nor there. as far as im aware, only in that movie has Ozma not had black hair)
anyway, she rules Oz; and by book 3, becomes really close friends with Dorothy. they're not a canon couple, not anymore than Gelphie is, but they are such close and affectionate friends that they are so easy to ship as childhood sweethearts (so, no, there is no moment of 🎶loathing🎶, but i find that sweetness makes them an angstier parallel for Glinda to watch over, personally lol)
like here's some illustrations from the books of them just being two "gal pals". no wonder our queer elders shipped them lmao and this isn't even all of their illustrations together, this is just the first spurts that google shot out at me lmao
also??? this is them with book-Glinda. not only do they look absolutely darling, also, yes, Dorothy becomes a princess, because Ozma said so. they co-rule Oz together. they are just too sweet, fam, i love these two little childhood sweethearts, i choose to see Dorothy's princess-ship as the same as two kids promising to marry one another when they grow up. this is so cute
and can you imagine Wicked-Glinda? looking down at these two, seeing what could have between herself and Elphaba had things turned out different??? im making myself sad
(also "Book of Glinda" is so wild. both in terms of "...Baum, how do you not see this as queer?" like with one example being like "Baum, you put that Glinda has 100s of single women at her beck and call in her palace, this is so easy to see as sapphic, sir"... and then, over here, we have John R Neil repeatedly reading "gave a platonic, innocent kiss" and going "okay, so, uh, making out? i dont do platonic kissing" lmao anYWAAAAYYYY, THAT'S NOT RELEVANT HERE)
🌟5️⃣ bonus:
so, you might have a few follow-up questions. like, what is "Elphaba" like in the books? what does she look like?
well, she's really only in the first book. she's one-note, evil, dies. she's not green-skinned, and she isn't given any sort of name. she is only called "the Wicked Witch of the West", that's it, she is not Elphaba
however, i will mention the Wicked Witch of the West, in the books, is a fashion disaster and i want to see her look used as evidence that "yes, goth-Elphaba and dark-academia-Elphaba are 10/10, but also?? kitschy grandma-core knitwear-Elphaba × her fashionably Barbie pink girlfriend". i'd love to see art of that. i'm just saying
also?? this isn't related to her at all but guess what
Scarecrow/Tin-Man was like THE ship for our queer elders. they are so emotionally intimate, they live together, it's great, look at these pictures of them being absolute bros (can you see why they were shipped so hard)
i bring this up, bc you could argue Fieyro/Boq if you merge canons to make your own narrative and whatnot. guess Fieryo and Boq kinda had their own mirrored 🎶loathing🎶 period under that framing lmao
or, if you hate Boq, youll probably love the Tin-Man's angsty "ship of Theseus"-like backstory as the once-Nick Chopper(: his human name, pre-tin-ification) that is in the books
so! enjoy that knowledge!! theyre super cute in the books, i love them. again, not a canon ship, but still beloved by our elder queers, just like Ozma and Dorothy
i hope it makes even more sense now why our queer elders used the phrase "Are you a friend of Dorothy?" as code to see if someone else was queer, not even taking into account the 1939 movie or Judy Garland's relationship with the queer community
anyway, albeit this is all the basics generalized, that should be everything
but yeah!! Ozma and Dorothy reminding Glinda of what could have been, of what she lost, being the sweeter "next generation" version of Gelphie?? tugs so hard at my heartstrings
but yeah, do whatever you want with Gelphie, Fieryo, and Part 2. im just saying. the angst potential of being envious and living vicariously through someone and seeing other people get the happy ending you were denied?? is right there lol
(edit: this awesome video by Kaz Rowe JUST came out if you want to hear more about the Oz book series, its queerness, its author, its GLARING PROBLEMS including but not limited to instances of racism, and so on and so forth. Kaz Rowe is a fantastic video-essayist, so i hope you watch the video and enjoy their hard-polished craftsmanship)
#wicked#gelphie#glinda#Elphaba#glinda x elphaba#wicked glinda#ariana grande glinda#glinda the good witch#glinda upland#elphaba thropp#wicked elphaba#cynthia eviro elphaba#the wicked witch of the west#wicked witch of the west#wicked witch#dorothy gale#the wizard of oz#wizard of oz#princess ozma#ozma
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🚨 Everything we know about Wednesday season 2 (possible spoilers and trigger warnings for violence — don't read this if you don't wanna know anything about season 2. Also, remember that none of this is confirmed yet, everything is from a leaker supposedly working on the set)
1- Xavier left school so his character is completely forgotten
2- Enid is craving affection and attention a lot
3- Enid's scars healed (I'm so sad about that... bye bye our hopes of Wednesday comforting her about it)
4- Enid's hair is a bit shorter, closer to Emma's real haircut. It's still blond. They also talked about giving her a black streak, but they didn't do it. They will possibly add it next season
5- Ajax broke up with Enid because she kept missing their dates and wasn't really involved in their relationship
6- Ajax disappears through the season but is found at the end
7- Enid has a new boyfriend, Maxim (played by Owen Painter)
8- Maxim is predicted to be loved by the fans
9- Maxim is abusive towards Enid (he grabs her a lot and leaves bruises)
10- Wednesday hates Maxim from the start
11- Wednesday is really protective of Enid during this season
12- Enid breaks up with Maxim in episode 4 (I suppose, as it says mid-season) and it doesn't go well (he's really mad and they almost physically fight. Enid uses her claws)
13- After the break up, Maxim becomes very obsessive
14- Wednesday initiates a hug after Enid comes back to the dorm after the break up
15- Enid and Wednesday will investigate together in every episodes except the first one
16- Maxim takes over the Nightshades and kick Bianca out. His father is said to have old views (I guess similar to Crackstone)
17- Bianca will have a lot of scenes. So does Thing
18- Tyler is back and will work with Wednesday. He's not the villain of this season
19- Tyler has a lot of scenes with Bianca's mom
20- Wednesday, Enid, Morticia, Maxim and Barry (Maxim's father and Nevermore's new principal) have the most screentime
21- Enid meets the Addams and Morticia thinks her relationship with Wednesday is stupendous
22- Enid's relationship with her mom changes a lot (good or bad, we don't know)
23- There will be a camping episode taking place at Camp Jericho, where Enid and Wednesday will share a tent
24- There will be a musical number
25- Christopher Lloyd (original movie Uncle Fester) will come back as, apparently, a music teacher
26- Enid will have a major fight against around 5 creatures
27- One of Enid's fight is to protect Wednesday (who is immobilised during the scene)
28- Wenclair share another hug at the end of the season
29- Enid and Wednesday are very close friends at the end of the season. Wenclair is not comfirmed yet for season 3 but they said it's still possible
30- Jenna is producer this season, so everything that happens between Wednesday and Enid has gone through her. She and Emma are most likely the ones to decide if Wenclair will happen or no. Considering they both said in an interview that they would be good together, that the whole cast ships them and that so much fans does too, we are on the right track!
All of this is not officially confirmed. A leaker working on the set posted all this on Reddit in June (from what I understood). Recently, bts pics of Camp Jericho has been shared, confirming what the leaker said about it. So all of this is most likely true, but again, nothing comfirmed.
I really hope it is true, because holy shit, the plot is INSANE. I literally told my best friend I needed a camping scene in season 2 and more drama... well, there we are 🤌🏻 All this informations I have shared are from the leaker (the post has been deleted on Reddit but you can find some screenshots on @zstronz78's Twitter account)
What are you theories and thoughts about it?
#jenna ortega#emma myers#wednesday netflix#wednesday addams#enid sinclair#wenclair#wednesday#sweet little raven news
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the game lasts 14 hours: rosquez [e], part 1
Marc had been dreaming—yes, dreaming is a good word for it. One minute, he’d been upright on the bike, panting like a dog inside his sweat-damp helmet, Pecco half a heartbeat behind, the grandstands around Sepang a blur of color and heat-fuzzy people. The next, he thinks he’d been down, or dead.
Now there’s someone hammering on his door. Hard enough he can feel it pulse on his teeth, on the tips of his fingers that are cold and numb.
His eyes are gritty. Everything about his body moves a heartbeat too slow, unresponsive. It takes Marc a moment to drag himself upright, to convince his legs to move. Dead fits better, he is sure of it.
The pounding becomes deafening. Marc forces air into his lungs once, twice—and off he goes. He swings the door open, almost closes it again once he sees who’s there. He could be dreaming, still. Or very high on the good painkillers.
“Marc,” Valentino croaks.
He’s panicking—maybe. Probably. It’s there in his wide, watery eyes, in his hands, wobbly and clammy. He jitters, looms on Marc’s doorway shaking worse than an addict.
“You have to believe me,” Valentino spits once it becomes clear Marc won’t speak. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, his fingers tap on the wall. His mouth pulls to the side, like he sucked on something sour. “I’m in a time loop, it’s—”
“Alright,” Marc cuts him, “do you want to come in?”
Valentino blinks. His shoulders jump, grow stiff, and he sways a step back before he remembers himself.
“You always say that.”
There’s a strain in Valentino’s voice, a knot unswallowed. Marc wonders if he should bring that up, decides against it. It’s easier to move to the side, invite Valentino in wordlessly. He should ask how he got his room number, how he bribed the staff to let him come up.
Or not. It wouldn’t be that surprising.
Valentino stumbles like a baby deer, all long, uncooperative legs. Sweat prickles on his throat, on his forehead. His gray shirt is fucking soaked with it. He looks—it must be said—like shit.
“You look like shit,” Marc decides to inform him. It’s a little—mostly—because he can’t think of anything else to fill the silence. He never can.
“You always say that too,” he scoffs.
Offense is better than panic—Marc hates when people panic around him. And it makes Valentino suck in a breath, convulsive, short, and then another, one more after that, each one easier. The minutes tickle by until he collapses into a plush arm chair, a puppet with his strings cut, sleeplessness carved into the bags under his eyes, into the gray sallowness of his face.
Marc checks the clock on the wall, the aggressive, bleeding red of the numbers. 05:13 AM. It’s early, still, but he needs to go on a run, have breakfast with Álex, sit down with his crew to smooth out his tire choice. Five points between him and Pecco, he can’t afford to make a mistake.
He doesn’t have time for Valentino going on a full freak-out, and yet—
“You believe me.”
Marc sighs, gets around brewing himself a mug of coffee. Only one, he isn’t sure if Valentino should be taking any caffeine when he’s this close to a heart attack. It’d be funny, for this to be a loop where he dies so early, doesn’t learn anything from it.
“You don’t contradict senile people.” He’s smiling, a little, a sharp grin tucked on the corner of his mouth.
Ha ha, Valentino barks. He’s clinging to the armchair so hard the fake leather creaks under his bitten bloody nails. “You believe me. I know you do.”
It isn’t usually this difficult to not be an asshole before 7 in the morning.
Marc could be cruel—it’s not often he gets to catch Valentino wrong-footed, genuine. His anger is so mirror smooth, an opaque, enchanting thing. Few people can dig into him and make it hurt. He could be much kinder, too. Say something like you’re obviously afraid, it’s not the time to question anything, of course I’d help.
Not a good idea. There’s a timeline where Valentino punches him for that, he thinks.
Marc is also very tired of offering kindness to Valentino.
He swallows. “Let’s say I do.”
Valentino lets out this noise—like Marc stabbed him right between the ribs, right where it hurts. It’s the thing about him, one of the worst ones. Doesn’t he know that a good third of Marc’s life has been spent dealing with what he says? Rolling with those wild fairytales, bracing for the next hit.
It sticks to the roof of his mouth. I believe you believe that, soothing in the same twist where it’s mocking, an oystershell of the unkindness that Marc has been rehearsing once he stopped showing his soft underbelly.
“Is this the first time you’re coming to me?” He asks, raises an eyebrow.
“No.”
“Really?”
Valentino hums an unwilling assent, kisses his teeth. The sharp tsk sound is so familiar that Marc feels like he was plucked from his body, tossed ten, eleven years ago. The sense of vertigo has him braced against the narrow, non-descript counter, watching out for the trickle of coffee that will—maybe—ground him. He’s an optimist.
“Twenty-six,” he huffs out, scowls. It sounds like it was pried from him laboriously.
The coffee machine beeps. Marc does the unwise thing and turns his back on Valentino, fiddles with the buttons. He will take it with sugar today. He fucking deserves a spoon or two, something sweet to soften the blows.
“I’m guessing I’m not exactly helpful.”
Marc feels a hand pressed between his shoulder blades, hot as a brand, that touch raking over his nerve endings even through the protection of a shirt. It’s proprietary, tugs on his guts like a fishhook. His insides might as well spill out, redredred and so overly honest it hurts. He flinches, remembers he shouldn’t have. His mouth twists, lips pressed together.
Everything suddenly aches.
“Are you ever,” Valentino breathes out because he never had a problem with being cruel.
It’s easier to hold on to that—it’s the gentleness that has Marc grinding his teeth, dull pulses of pain settling in his jaw.
He closes his eyes, then forces them open—you can’t run from a tricky corner, or from Valentino. “Any reason in particular you’re messi—”
“I’m not messing up with your weekend,” Valentino hisses. Time loop, right. Marc is still annoyed at being interrupted.
But his face is so close, Marc can spot each new wrinkle, the skin of his earlobe sagging under the weight of his earring, the patchy, half-shaved stubble on his oddly cadaveric cheeks. He forgets to not be charmed, forgets how abrasive Valentino can be.
“In my experience, you typically are,” he counters, mostly to be difficult.
Valentino’s face spasms. Marc counts down the seconds until he hardens, becomes a naked blade under sunlight. His expression crystalizes into his usual mask, except for his bottom lip wobbling, the manic glint in his horribly blue eyes.
“Allora, it’s always a fight with you.”
“Something like that, yeah.”
Marc curls his hand around his mug, sinks into the heat radiating against his palm. Valentino tightens his grip on his shirt, turns him around. He has to look up—if it’s through his lashes, well, it’s so very early, and he hasn’t taken his coffee yet, and he’s bleary and good as dead.
Neither of them speak.
It’s 05:28 AM, the clock cheerfully informs him. He needs to get going, or he won’t have time to go on his run.
Marc doesn’t move. Valentino keeps him boxed against the counter, gripping his arms. It’ll bruise. His bones creak under that hold, but it’s the closest to tethered he’s felt in a while. He lulls himself into that false security, knowing it’ll bite, knowing he’ll take the bite anyway.
“So why come to me?” He asks, once the silence grows boring, once it starts gnawing on his sanity.
Valentino lets out this laugh—a little hysterical, choked. “It’s not my first choice. Uccio tries to give me Alprazolam and Luca tells me to go back to bed.”
Marc hums, faux-commiserating. “It’s good advice, have you tried it?”
“Right?” He keeps laughing or making that noise that looks like a laugh and sounds like it’s tearing him apart stitch by stitch. Marc could try looking into it, divining the omens of his day on his spilled guts.
Or—
“What happens next?”
He wants to know what Valentino will say today—it’s his favorite part of any game they play, getting roped into those stories. Falling for Valentino’s deranged Cesar on death row charm.
This time, Valentino skips the charm. Marc wishes he weren’t so disappointed.
“You’re going to die.” He nods, yes and?
Valentino grows stiff, death-serious, mouth wrenched in a snarl that bares his sharp canines. The press of his fingers goes from settling to a permanent ache, right over the place where he broke and didn’t heal right. It’s good, the kind of pain Marc can sink into and enjoy, constant, so dear by now.
“You can’t not care. You believe me.”
He smiles—bland, strained around the edges. His face feels like clay. “There’s always tomorrow, no?”
It’s a joke. Almost one. Marc has barely spoken when he notices how flat it falls, how he misses the apex of comedic timing by a mile.
There’s barely enough time to set his coffee on the counter. Valentino crowds into him, or wrenches him closer. They’re chest to chest like this. Blurring into each other, Valentino’s thumb splayed over the longest scar on his arm, Marc panting hotly over his protruding collarbone.
“You just don’t—”
“Valentino,” he sighs.
Marc has—they’re both bleeding, the walls of his hotel room pressing into him grimy and suffocating like a slaughterhouse floor. It’s too much blood, too much history, too much. Marc has made him angry. The ugly anger. A knotted mess Valentino can’t smoke-and-mirrors his way through, that pours out of his flashing eyes, his grinding teeth, his hands digging into Marc like he’ll crack open his ribs.
He doesn’t remember how many times he’s seen it before. Not many. Valentino is pathologically non-confrontational, his smiles slick and meaningless right as he lines a shot. Maybe he’s losing his mind, fraying, shattering.;
And maybe Marc is losing his mind too. I got you, he thinks, triumphant—the poisonous, acrid triumph of racing even when his arm twists like it’s trying to kill him. He still can make Valentino lose his footing. No one else but him.
“You’re going to die,” Valentino repeats, takes a step away from Marc like he’s scalding. He starts pacing, a caged thing, a Russian doll of nervous ticks. “It’s going to be—it’s going to be fucking terrible. It’s going to hurt. Why isn’t that enough for you?”
Marc looks—briefly—heavenward. Valentino scoffs.
And that’s it. Another one.
“How many times have you gone over today?” He asks, hopeful and hating himself for that hope.
Valentino smirks—like he has a knife tucked between his lips, joylessly, scraped raw. “Once or twice. It’s not like you ever take it seriously.”
The sound of the door slamming closed echoes in his chest. Marc tries to breathe, fails. Has to bend over the counter, the cold marble a blessing against his overheated skin. The chilly shock hoists back to his own body, but the nausea remains, a mouthful of thorns and bile he can’t swallow.
He wishes that Valentino would answer once—just once—how long he’s been on a time loop.
But he can’t linger too long on that. Marc has to go out now, go on a run, have breakfast with Álex, talk with his crew about his tires, die on T5 of lap 12.
Ater sixty-two runs, he’s pretty damn good at it.
#rosquez#motogp#motogp rpf#rpf#marc marquez#valentino rossi#time loop fic#chev fics#hahaha delirious time loop fic in which no one communicates#also don't trust marc's pov he IS lying to you#and to himself#and to valentino#manic pixie dream boy#i don't know what came over me but i'm glad it did
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Milfs Models Candidates
Okay, so after many suggestions and research I've found some more possible Milf Candidates for me to make in the future. I would say don't judge me... But I think that'd be a lost cause.
Milf 01. Tsuki Uzaki
Y'know it's funny, I actually hate Hana, like she is kinda insufferable to me, I feel bad for Shinichi... Her mother, and sister (And Maybe Brother?) on the other hand... Yeah Tsuki is a top Class Milf.
Milf 02. Mitsuki Bakugo
I love her look, her attitude, just a perfect Milf, I shouldn't have to say more...
Milf 03. Nana Shimura
Muscle Momm-'Cough, Cough' Sorry, anyways, I like Nana, in the same way I like Endeavor, that is to say I like how their flawed individuals. But her flaw is the same as Summer's, she cares too much about doing good to the point where she hurt those close to her... Honestly someone should've slapped some sense into her when she decided to abandon her son. Like I get it, she just lost her husband the big bad would've targeted him... BUT C'MON!!! WHY WOULD YOU THINK OFA WASN'T ALREADY TARGETING YOU!!! Like she gets some leeway because obviously after just losing her husband she couldn't have been in the right state of mind but someone should've realized that possibility.
Milf 04. Lusamine
I hesitated with her mainly because I'd have to use the Hair accessories for her, and wouldn't be able to make other hair styles convincingly. But Yeah I'll probably be making her soon, cuz damn man, she's up there with Cynthia.
Milf 05. Susan Luong-Long
I, and I'm sure a good number of guys (And Girls) who blame this character for our fascination with Asian mommies...
Milf 06. Delia Ketchum
Honestly lowkey one of the best Pokémon Milfs.
Milf 07. Pokémon Black & White's Mom
Yeah, Pokémon knows exactly what it's doing by making Milfs like this...
Milf 08. Johanna (Dawn's Mom)
I Love Her Design, it's rather simple but utterly perfect!
Milf 09. Grace (Pokémon X & Y's Mom)
A sporty, country, mom who looks like she's ready to ride a bull, they really didn't use her near enough.
Milf 10. Prof. Sada
She makes me return to monke... those abs make, that tan, her wild look. Just, y'know a lot of people bought Scarlet for her alone...
Milf 11. Pokémon Scarlet & Violet's Mom
Penny was right, their mom is hot... I prefer the model with paler skin and deep brown hair myself.
Milf 12. Pokémon Sword & Shield's Mom
Not gonna lie, never played sword or shield, but I gotta say, she is a pretty mom. I like the glasses look with the overalls, gives her a fun vibe. I feel like there'll be a shock factor if I put her in other outfits too, so that'll be fun to see.
Milf 13. Pokémon Black & White 2's Mom
Mostly I wanna make her cuz there is a absolute lack of content of her and I'm kinda digging the idea of making her look utterly different with her hair down.
Milf 14. Lila Test
Y'know, I already wanna make Susan & Mary Test for Dexter when I get to him, so why not the mom too.
Milf 15. Charlotte Pickles
These three images convinced me, at first I couldn't see it, but thank you Anon, I've been shown the light. I like Milf in suits apparently... I learned something new about myself.
Milf 16. Jane Jetson
Ahh, Boomerang, how I miss you, this is just a Atlas Mom to me, and I feel like this further proves my childhood interest in redheads...
Milf 17. Wilma Flintstone
Y'know, I would complain that I can't find a decent pic of Wilma without Betty in it... Wait, No I Wouldn't! She next anyways. Well, this only serves to prove the whole Redheads thing lil' me had going on. I'mma say there from a Secluded Vacuian tribe, fucking savages... Hot, hot savage Milf.
Milf 18. Betty Rubble
Cavewoman are justice, and need to reenter the genepool of Remnant.
Milf 19. Carol from OK K.O.
Okay, so recently someone's ask me to make characters from OK K.O. Let's Be Heroes. Specifically Fink & Wilhamena, and to that all I have to say is... HOW DARE YOU NOT MENTION CAROL!!! Dude! Tanned Muscle Mommy! Seriously, she looks like she could be a badass. Not sure how faithful to the design I can be, or well want to be but I definitely like this character.
Milf 20. Wilhamena from OK K.O.
I mean, I get why so many people brought her up, I am looking forward to making this design, seems like it'd be fun. Still kinow nothing about the show though...
Okay, Last four... Gonna get a bit weird, feel free to judge me -_-
Milf 21. Nicole Watterson
I'd probably use the middle design as her actual model in Remnant making her a Faunus. Her Semblance would be '2D' Which references her cartoon origin but also can me Two Ds/ Doppelgangers, but well neither actually look like her but she can share her senses with them or have them act independently.
Milf 22. Lin (Millie's Mom)
Not gonna lie, I wanna make her half to have her get hate fucked (At Least at first), not the most honorable of intentions but FUCK HER!!! I get she's Millie's Mom, and a seemingly good one, but she hates Moxxie Way Too Much! How Can You Hate Moxxie! He's Adorable and a utterly devoted Husband! What, Just Cuz He's Not Country Strong, Fuck Off, No, Fuck Her! Fuck All The Bitch Outta This Milf With a Big Human Cock!
Milf 23. Toriel from Undertale
She is Literally the Goat HAHAHA!!! Okay but seriously I kinda have to make her. There is just WAY too much content for me to have ignored her. I typed in Game Milfs and this Goat showed up more then the Pokémon Moms.
Milf 24. Mrs. Kattswell
... God Dammit, I'm a fucking furry...
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I have a Mark Sloan x female
What if Mark Sloan had been dating Meredith’s older sister who is head of trauma. Y/n and Mark broke after the situation with his daughter and grandson.
After the night at Joes after the attendings had been celebrating Derek, Mark and y/n ends the night with sleeping together.
About 8 or 9 weeks y/n starts to feeling nauseous and tired. Callie starts to feel the same way as y/n, the two friends takes a pregnancy test and they both finds out that they are pregnant.
Callie had slept with a stranger from joes bar.
Y/n tells Mark that she is pregnant with his child and he wants them to get back together.
Maybe you can make it as two or three parts, something based on season 7 episode 9, 13 and 14
Mark Sloan- Try Again Pt1
It all started 9 weeks ago with one drunken night at Joe’s Bar. One night of weakness. I promised myself I wouldn’t run back to Mark, but I did. We broke up because I felt he needed to focus on his daughter and his unborn grandchild. I still love him, I think I always will. Maybe braking up was a mistake, but here we are. Now Callie and I are sat in my bedroom both with pregnancy tests in hand
“I’m scared” I reveal
“Me to. At least you’ll know who the dad is though”
“Why did we go to the bar that night?”
“Because we were celebrating Derek. The real question is why did we get so drunk?” Callie replies
“Cal, what are we going to do if they’re positive?”
“Well, you need to talk to Mark. But whatever you decide to do I’ll be by your side. If I’m pregnant I’ve already decided I’m going to keep them”
“I mean I have wanted to be a mom forever and I am getting older” just then the timer goes off. Both Callie and I take in a deep breath and look down at the tests in our hands. 2 pink lines. Pregnant. Tears immediately start to threaten to fall from my eyes, emotions are all over the place, scared, confused, excitement
“I’m pregnant” Callie says
“Me to”
“You ok?”
“I honestly don’t know how I feel. You?” I turn to face my best friend
“Same. Guess I gotta tell Arizona now”
“Fuck I gotta tell Mark” I groan placing my head in my hands
“You want me to come with you?”
“No” I shake my head “I gotta do this myself. I’ll call you later”
“Good luck” Callie says as I get up from the couch and leave my apartment, heading straight for my car and then Marks place.
I knock on the door waiting for what feels like ages until it finally opens up to a confused looking Mark
“YN? What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk. Can I come in?”
“Sure…” Mark opens up the door more so I can step into his place. Knowing where everything is I head straight to the kitchen to get out a bottle of beer for him and a glass of juice for myself
“Bit early to drink isn’t it”
“I think your gonna need it. Go sit” I follow Mark back into the living room and sit down next to him. It’s silent for a number of minutes until Mark finally says
“So you going to tell me why your here and trying to get me drunk while you sip on orange juice”
“Mark, I’m pregnant”
“Your… you… are you sure”
“Yeah. Took a test this morning. Plus no period, I’ve been feeling nauseous and tired. Boobs are aching and I swear they’re already a cup size bigger”
“But we used…”
“Are you sure we did because we were both pretty drunk. Look I think I want this, the baby. I’m getting older and I’ve wanted kids for a long time. If you want to be apart of their life I would love that, if not then that’s ok I under….”
“No I want to do this. I’ve missed the chance to be a dad before. I’m not doing that again. I want to be part of their life”
“Well ok then. I still need to book for a scan so I’ll Errm let you know” I stand up ready to leave
“Wait. Err I was just making some lunch, made to much for one… so if you’d like, you can stay for a bit” I give Mark a little smile and nod my head
“Ok. Yeah”
#mark sloan#mark sloan x reader#mark Sloan x yn#greys anatomy#greys anatomy imagine#mark sloan imagine
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“Age doesn’t matter” 5
Dad!Bakugou x F!Babysitter!Teacher!Reader
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16
Hearing what Kazui said made her completely stop. Mama? Why would he think that? Was it because she takes care of him like her own child?
“K-Kazuki. I don't think that's something possible.” Ms. Y/n said washing her hands before she approach the now pouting Kazui.
“Why not?” Kazui said, now tearing up. “My classmates have a mama. Why I don't have one? Why can't I have one?” he was now sobbing.
Seeing his tears pour breaks her heart. Ms. Y/n dreamt of having her own child, but because of how life can be challenging, how she can't afford to buy her own house or a decent permanent job, she set her dream aside and focus on trying to make it at least to the cruel world.
But nothing is crueler to a child not having a mother wanting to have one.
“Shh.” Ms. Y/n carried and embrace Kazui who was sobbing in her arms. “I’m sorry, Kazui.”
Then it suddenly went quiet. Ms. Y/n was still holding Kazui in her arms.
“Kazui?” Ms. Y/n called out, but get no response. When she slowly made her way to a mirror, she saw him fast asleep. She looked at him for a moment, sad that she couldn’t do anything for Kazui. It took a while for her to bring him up to her bedroom and tucked him in, caressing his cheek that was stained from his tears.
Ms. Y/n then left her bedroom. She decided to keep the door open in case she heard him wake up. She strides down the stair and went back to the kitchen where she left some of the burger steaks she molded. As soon as she washed her hands again to proceed, she saw her phone lit up causing her to look at it. When she saw the unknown number, she slightly frowns. But when she clicked on the message, she blinked in surprise.
It was Mr. Bakugou.
..
Once Katsuki settled in his car, he placed a bag beside him. A thank-you gift for Kazui’s teacher.
Giving anyone a gift isn't his thing, but Ms. Y/n's kind gesture made him want to. This is the least he could do to show her he appreciates what she does.
And so, Katsuki turned on the engine when he received the address he needed and drove his way to the said address. seeing he was nearing the address, he noticed it was close to the school. After just a few minutes of walking, for sure they'd reach it.
He remembered Ms. Y/n telling him there was a near convenience store and taking a right turn. As soon as he turned right, he immediately saw her apartment and slowed down. Once closed, he pulled up but didn't leave his car.
Katsuki is nervous. He didn't know how to approach her. His palms are sweating, and so was his forehead, and believe it or not? This was pissing him off. So with all the courage he has. Wait? Why does he need courage for this? He's just going to pick Kazui and hand his gift to her.
That’s fucking it.
Katsuki groan, starting to get frustrated. Without thinking, he grab the bag beside him and exited his car, slamming the door shut behind him.
Ms. Y/n heard this, making her jump and slightly spilling the hamburger steak sauce. “What was that..” She mumbled to herself and wiped her sauce-filled hand.
She made her way to her apartment door even though she knows it was a bad idea. But curiosity got in her and grab the doorknob, twisted it, and pulled the door open. She comes face-to-face with Mr. Bakugou who has his hand raised, about to knock.
“U-uh. Good evening! Mr. Bakugou!” She slightly stuttered. “Please come in!”
Seeing him in an awkward position made katsuki's face turn slightly pink, all the way to his ears. “Ahem. Thanks.” He said in a quiet voice.
Ms. Y/n closed the door behind her as soon as Katsuki get in. “I'm sorry about the mess. I have a lot of papers to work on.” She said sweating dropped when she saw him eye the papers stacked on her coffee table. “Please have a seat.” She added as she collect all the papers and headed to her bedroom.
When she came back, she made her way to the kitchen switched the fire off on her stove, and saw Katsuki sitting on the sofa. “Make yourself at home.” She smiled. “You might be looking for Kazui, he’s currently sleeping in my bedroom.”
Ms. Y/n opened one of the kitchen cabinets and grab two glasses. She then grabs a drink and pours the content into the glass.
Katsuki was quiet even though he can hear her talking . He was checking her apartment which was neat, and organized, with no dust in sight. Except for the stack he saw earlier, which was now gone.
Her apartment was indeed small, like what Kazui said. But she made it look homey. Unlike his quiet home. Even though he has all those branded furniture and expensive stuff. Never in a while, had he felt his house homey. But he, sitting in someone’s home? Knowing that Y/n is living alone, single-
Wait, was she single?
Katsuki’s thoughts about her apartment suddenly vanish. I mean, was she by herself?
Getting inquisitive, he looks for a sign of another person living with her. A male person. But all he saw was what a single woman has.
How old was she again? 23? Right. She’s too young and still unraveling her future.
Well, age doesn’t matter to him.
What? The fuck was he thinking? Why would he think that?
Katsuki internally smacks himself in the face. He’s not looking for any relationship right now. After what happened. He’s too scared to try again.
“Here. Seems like you're deep in thought.”
Katsuki blinked being cut off and saw Ms. Y/n place a cup of tea in front of him.
“Thank you.” He said.
Why was he being quiet anyway?
“You’re welcome.” Ms. Y/n smiled at him. “I actually poured you an orange juice and was about to give it to you but it seems like you're stressed. So I made you some tea. I hope you don't mind camomile?” She giggled and went back to the kitchen.
“It’s fine,” Katsuki said. “Where’s Kazui?”
Ms. Y/n blinked. Didn't she say he’s asleep? Maybe Mr. Bakugou was too deep in thought that he wasn't listening to everything you said.
“He’s sleeping in my bedroom.” You chuckled making Katsuki look at you raising an eyebrow which made you panic and immediately apologize.
“Why're you apologizing?” Katsuki asked and gently gran the tea in front of him. The aroma made him relax.
“I was being rude.” Ms. Y/n smiled nervously.
She’s always smiling.
"You're not," Katsuki said and took a sip.
Ms. Y/n only smiled before going back to her kitchen and preparing the plates needed. "Have you had your dinner, Mr. Bakugou?" You asked.
As if on cue, Katsuki's stomach started making a sound making him blush and her, giggle.
"I'll take that as a no." You said. "I made Hamburger steak. Kazui requested it."
"Hah? I swear to god that spoiled ass brat." Katsuki said, this time, out loud.
"Would you want a plate, Mr-
"Just call me Bakugou. I hate this formality and such. It's fucking pissing me off." Katsuki said as he placed the teacup back on the coffee table.
This doesn't surprise you anymore. Why? Because there are times Y/n watches television in her free time and saw how Dynamight swears a lot. Even civilians got used to this.
"Alright, Bakugou." Ms. Y/n chuckled and just prepare another plate for him. "You can go wake Kazui so we can all eat. The more the merrier right?"
"Don't order me around." Katsuki tsked but follow otherwise.
He heard a low sorry when he walked past the kitchen and straight to her bedroom where he saw the door wide open. He was about to go straight inside but he stopped midway. He's trespassing on her privacy. But she was the one who gave him permission, plus, he's only waking Kazui up, so it doesn't matter. So he continued and went straight into her bedroom and saw a double-sized bed where he saw Kazui sleeping peacefully.
"Oi." Katsuki called but got no reponse. "Brat. Wake up. We're going to eat dinner."
Seeing his son won't wake up anytime soon, he picks him up and carries him in his arms. "Kazui, wake up. Ms. Y/n made us dinner. You spoiled brat."
Kazui lightly stirred in his father's arms before completely waking up, and rubbing his eyes. "Papa," he mumbled.
Katsuki only watched his son.
"Where's mama.." Kazui yawned and snuggled back into his arms.
Katsuki was frozen in his place. Shocked, confused, angry? He doesn't know what to feel when he once again heard his son looking for his mother.
"Why are you looking for her?" Katsuki asked, hoping he would get a response despite knowing how drowsy his son is.
"Mama Y/n.."
#bnha bakugo katsuki#mha bakugou#bakugou x reader#bnha bakugou#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x y/n#bakugo katuski
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TLDR: do not read a loved one’s diary.
During Hurricane Helene while the power was out, I was rummaging around in the garage looking for rechargeable battery packs. They happened to be housed in a plastic tote with a number of small notebooks. I decided to take the notebooks and look through them while I sat in my car waiting for my phone (and power bank) to charge. They were mostly blank. Some were mine.
One was my mother’s therapy notes from 2016. I should have closed it and put it back when I noticed what it was. I wish I had. I didn’t. I read it. I’m fucking evil. I invaded her privacy and I read it. Most of it was things I knew she had thought and felt at the time but something hurt me. She called me selfish and self-centered several times. This wouldn’t bother me if she was calling 2024 me selfish/self-centered but I was a SUICIDAL FIFTEEN YEAR OLD at the time.
I spent the ages 12 to 18 essentially locked in my room. My parents had an extremely toxic relationship and whenever I left my room, I ended up in the middle of their arguments trying to mediate and trying to get my mom to leave my father. When I was 13, I remember her busting down my door to take my phone to call her boyfriend because my father had taken her keys and her phone and she had no way to escape the house because we lived in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors. She left that night and LEFT ME WITH HIM.
I didn’t leave my room because my parents would both get drunk and scream at each other and my dad would PUT HIS HANDS ON HER IN FRONT OF ME.
I begged her to leave him for years. I begged. She kept going back. She finally left him when I was 14 but by then I was already traumatized, actively suicidal and failing school due to the stress at home and my worsening mental health. She was not good with my suicidal ideations and spiraling mental health. She didn’t neglect me medically, I saw several different physiatrists and therapists and was on so many psychiatric medications that I cannot remember what I’ve tried and what worked and what didn’t. But whenever I reached out for help, looked to her for support, told her I was suicidal or too anxious to leave the house, she treated it like it was a manipulation tactic on my part. She treated me not like I was faking for attention but like I was faking to hurt HER. One time, when I was 14, I told her I was contemplating suicide and she DROVE AWAY AND LEFT ME ALONE IN OUR NEW HOUSE.
So I locked myself in my room and essentially greyrocked her. I didn’t listen to her problems anymore. I didn’t tell her my problems anymore. I told my problems to 20 and 30 somethings online on Skype and KIK. And she called me selfish and self-centered because I pulled away.
I understand she was an extremely emotionally injured, traumatized and abused woman but I was an extremely emotionally injured and traumatized child. A 15 year old child. A little boy who couldn’t trust and confide in either of his parents. But to her I was selfish and self-centered. Because I did not want to play psychiatrist anymore.
Our relationship only really improved in senior year/into my adulthood. My mental health improved and I learned to cope a little better. I still keep an element of emotional shallowness between us but we don’t fight anymore. I love my mom. I have no doubt my mom loves me. I just cannot trust her with my mental health. That’s okay.
But reading her therapy notes, which I only saw because my ass was snooping and violated her privacy, reopened some horribly healed wound within me and I’ve felt myself disconnect from her again? I don’t know how to explain it. I felt it but I don’t think I really realized what it was until she broke her foot on my birthday while I was home alone an hour and a half away. It’s like this emptiness. I’m struggling to respond to her texts and show appropriate concern and love and pour from that glass within me. I’ve withdrawn back into that snail shell, back into the safety of my own little sphere. And it shouldn’t be something I take out on her. All because I’m hurt by something she felt/wrote 8 years ago, something deeply personal that she expressed privately to a therapist and in her journal. Something I shouldn’t have read. This is so fucked up. I’m so beyond fucked up. I hate myself.
#suicide /#abuse /#< tags are about events long in the past#will be deleting this shortly I just don’t have anyone to share it with
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I made aesthetic boards and Headcanons of the Weasley grandchildren for a fic I'll be posting soon.
The top left picture is a young kid photo, the bottom right is a teenage photo, and the middle is a current/older one.
(In age order)
Edward "Teddy" Remus Lupin ((24) at main time of fic)-
-Born April 23rd, 1998
-Molly and Arthur have always considered him their first grandkid
-From ages 11 to 16 he experimented with all kinds of hair colors, never being able to settle on just one
-When he's 17 he finally settles on his classic blue hair and rocks that till he's about 21, when he goes to plain brown hair and his natural features. A little self-discovery later and he's back at his classic blue
-Despite inheriting the metamorphagus trait, he's also got several wolf qualities
-He can tell you if the milk is expired when you open the fridge by the scent, he can tell who's entering the house from upstairs by the way he hears them walking, and when he doesn't have his wand he'll probably start biting and scratching as an attack, and he does some pretty good damage
-He has a long term girlfriend named Izzy (I'm not a tedoire fan, they're cousins in this) and no one's quite sure how long they've been dating because no one knows when they went from being best friends to dating, you can't tell
-In school he had two other best friends besides Izzy, Todd and Connor. Izzy and Todd are in Gryffindor (they're also cousins) and Teddy and Connor are Hufflepuffs
-There was an attack when he was 14 (will be explained in the fic) and he didn't have his wand, so he had no choice but to go a little feral on them and he ended up killing one of them like that
-He considers James, Al, and Lily his siblings.
-He played quidditch for most of his school years, chaser, and wore the number 4
-When he starts to get older, his family and friends start to call him just Ted more. Izzy is the only one who still always calls him Teddy
-He can play the guitar
-He's never been very muscular or lean, but he's like 6'4
Victoire Gabrielle Weasley (22)- Bill and Fleur's daughter
-Born May 2nd, 2000
-She was always very focused on being pretty and proper as a child, but in her late teen years she stopped caring so much
-Fleur wanted her to attend Beaxbatons when she started school, but she transferred to Hogwarts for her fourth year and was sorted into Ravenclaw
-She was made prefect her fifth year and head girl her seventh year
-She loved living near the beach and would often read books in the sand
-She loves cooking and she's good at it, her idea of a simple meal is equivalent to a gourmet meal
-In her fifth year she starts to develop a crush on Teddy's friend Todd, a seventh year at the time. She always begs her cousin to get him to talk to her
-Her and Todd start dating in her seventh year. When things start getting bad with the war again, they decide to get married with their family while they still can.
Molly Sienna Weasley II (22)- Percy and Audrey's daughter
-Born August 5th, 2000
-She was very close to her grandmother as a child and they liked to talk about flowers with each other
-Christmas is her absolute favorite time of year and she always makes everyone go all out for it
-She was sorted into Gryffindor, but she has always preferred green more then red
-She played quidditch her 2nd, 3rd, and 4th years, but quit to focus on school
-She loves being at the burrow and she would sit around in the nearby fields during the summers off listen to music
-She has a "best friend" (they're in love with each other but don't know it) named Lilah. They've been friends since they met on the train before their first year.
-Lilah helped her cut her bangs when she was 17 and she's had then ever since
-She's very close with Victoire because of closer in age they are. They bond over their shared love of solitude time
Dominique Apolline Weasley (20)- second daughter of Bill and Fleur
-Born February 14th, 2002
-She's always been very tall, reaching 5'8 by them time she was 13
-Everyone almost exclusively calls her Dom
-She only attended Beaxbatons for one year before going to Hogwarts with Victoire
-She was pleasantly surprised when she was sorted into Gryffindor, expecting to go the same path as her sister
-She only picked up quidditch after Molly quit, taking her number, 5
-Teddy taught her how to play the guitar when she was 15
-She likes to speak French more than English
-She came out as Bi when she was 16 and Bill bought a shirt that said ally dad
-She got closer with Vic and Molly in her late teens and they are inseparable now
-She started dating a Slytherin boy, Jake Thomas when she was 17 and they get married when they were 19
Roxanne Alicia Weasley (20)- George and Angelina's daughter
-Born January 19th, 2002
-The first Weasley to be sorted into Slytherin, it was a shock at first, but everyone accepted it pretty quickly
-She worked at Wizard Wheezes every summer before she graduated and now full time. She plans to run the place one day
-People always ask if her and Freddie are twins and are surprised when she tells them that she's two years older
-They are also surprised when they're told they still have the same birthday
-She's never been close with any of her cousins and really only hangs out with Freddie
-Her dad is the only one who calls her Roxy
-She's never been interested in any romance and plans on never getting married
-She was shocked when Dom asked her to be her maid of honor, but she took the job incredibly seriously and broke down crying during the ceremony
-Her and Dom have become closer in the past year because of that
Frederick "Freddie" Gideon Weasley (18)- George and Angelina's son
-Born January 19th, 2004
-Everyone thinks it is absolutely hilarious that Roxanne and Freddie are born on the same day
-So it shouldn't have been a surprise too anyone when they basically acted like they were twins
-Since their family had already had a Fred, he decided to exclusively go by Freddie
-The third Weasley grandchild to go to Gryffindor
-He was pretty quiet in school, but would get in trouble sometimes because he hung out with Lorcan, Lysander, and James
-He also started working at Wizard Wheezes and hopes to co-own it with Roxanne
-He was the first grandchild to insist on joining the order when it was reformed
-Proudly fights whenever he can
James Sirius Potter II (18)- Harry and Ginny's son
-Born June 4th, 2004
-Harry and Ginny believe they set themselves up for failure by naming him James Sirius because he definitely takes after his namesakes
-Also sorted into Gryffindor at the surprise of nobody
-He's wanted to become a professional quidditch player since he can remember attending his mother's matches, so he makes his whole life about quidditch
-Izzy is the Gryffindor quidditch captain his first year and he gets a chaser position the same year
-There hasn't been more quidditch drive since Oliver Wood
-He fell in love with a girl named Alice when he was 15 and only got her to go out with him once they graduated
-THE ADHD child
-He's best friends with Lorcan and Lysander Scamander, Hufflepuffs, who are in his year
-He loves his siblings so much and is protective of all of them
Louis Arthur Weasley (18)- Bill and Fleur's son
-Born August 6th, 2004
-Victoire was so proud when her younger brother was sorted into Ravenclaw
-Made it clear that he was never interested in quidditch and would rather stay inside and play video games
-Fleur always dressed him very prim and proper and he continued to do that even when he grew up
-He does wear Nikes with a suit though
-He's very proud of his curls and takes care of them perfectly
-He was captain of the chess team all of his Hogwarts years, which pissed Rose off
-He loves spells and always has a spellbook on him
-Blue is his favorite color and he makes everything in his life that
-Dreams of becoming a healer and spent a lot of time with Madam Pomfrey in school
-He got a internship at St. Mungos two weeks ago and has never been more exhausted in his life
Lucille "Lucy" Abigail Weasley (17)- Percy and Audrey's second daughter
-Born April 22nd, 2005
-Everyone was expecting her to be in Gryffindor like the majority of her older cousins, but were so proud when she was placed on Hufflepuff
-She's always loved any kind of art, but she favorites her pastel crayons.
-She also has a camera and takes pictures of anything and everything
-She's very loudly and openly gay, she came out when she was 12
-George made fun of Percy when she came out, telling him he was too stuck up for his gay daughter. He went to Bill after that to figure out where he could get an ally dad shirt
-She gets so frustrated about Molly and Lilah. She's told Molly that she's gay so many times, but Molly always just laughs it off
-She only picked up quidditch in her seventh year and she took over Teddy's number 4
-Even though Molly's onliviousness annoys her, she is very close with her. They both love flowers and they taught themselves to embroider so they can put flowers on everything
Albus "Al" Severus Potter (16)- Harry and Ginny's second son
-Born August 27th, 2006
-He was always incredibly shy and often just hid behind his mother
-That made it a shock when he was sorted into Slytherin, everyone expected Hufflepuff
-The day after he was sorted, he already had a letter from Roxanne, telling him that she knew it was hard to be one of the only Slytherins in the family, but that she was there for him. That made being in Slytherin a lot easier for him.
-He was always best friends with Rose, but when they got to Hogwarts they let Thomas Lovegood and Frank Longbottom II, Ravenclaws, into their friendgroup (I'll probably do stuff for these characters too since they're pretty important)
-He loves music and has a huge record collection with almost any artist you can think of
-When the war started getting bad in his fifth year, he started back up the D.A., it was less about teaching and more about fighting now though
-He loves Teddy, James, and Lily so much and he considers them some of his closest friends
-He didn't wear glasses for most of his life, but the summer after his sixth year, Ginny started noticing that he was running into things, so she took him to an eye doctor and he went into his seventh year with glasses
-He loves to learn knew spells and he can almost always be seen with a spellbook in his hands
-He's a bit of a coward, so any time there's some sort of fight his first response is to run
-He's not too worried about finding love, sure it'll happen on its own one day. He likes to help his cousins and friends in their relationships though
-He actually hates quidditch, but he'd never tell anyone of his family that, knowing how much they love it
Rose Billie Granger-Weasley (16)- Ron and Hermione's daughter
-Born October 26th, 2006
-She looks so much like her mother, but she definitely takes after her father
-She loves sweets and is always first in line at Honeydukes when there's a new thing to try
-Victoire always makes her be the taste tester on everything she makes, and Rose has a very refined pallette because of it
-Her socks are constantly mismatched, other than that she's very fashionable
-Her dad taught her how to play wizards chess when she was really little and she joined the club at school the first week she was there
-She was super mad that Louis was captain for as long as he was though
-She's in Gryffindor, in true Weasley fashion
-She's never considered herself smart, just enough to get by. She's very thankful that Hugo and Al are though.
-Al is her best friend in the world and she was the first to join the D.A. after he started it up again
-She takes care of Hugo ferociously and it's pretty hard for her to accept that he's growing up now
Hugo Gene Granger-Weasley (15)- Ron and Hermione's son
-Born September 15th, 2007
-He's always had severe baby face, looking much younger than he is
-He's been super attached to Crookshanks since the moment he was born
-He inherited his mother's smarts and started reading by the time he was 4
-Louis insisted that he would be in Ravenclaw and Dom made fun of him when Hugo was put on Gryffindor
-He loves a sweater vest
-He didn't start playing quidditch until his second year, when James needed him to play keeper for him. They learned that he was extremely talented and they're currently training him to go professional.
-He didn't really have any friends until he started playing quidditch, where he started hanging out with the players on his and the other teams.
-He's closest with Ella Chang, the seeker for the Ravenclaw team
-Everyone is sure they will be dating at some point
-He was the reason the Weasley is our king chant got started again and he proudly wears the crown pin on his quidditch robes
-He excells in all of his classes and Ella thinks he's wasting his talents by going pro
-He loves his sister and spends a great deal of his time with her
Lily Luna Potter (14)- Harry and Ginny's daughter
-Born September 1st, 2008
-She's an exact copy of her mother, in looks and personality
-The youngest Weasley kid, also sorted into Gryffindor
-She isn’t particularly talented in academics, but she gets by just fine
-She loves listening to music with Al and she exactly where all of her favorite songs are on his records
-She knows she's bisexual, but wasn't told anyone yet
-She loves charms class and learning new spells. She always goes to Louis to learn new ones.
-She hasn't picked up quidditch yet, but has been considering it for a while now
-Her mom started putting her hair in braids and she absolutely loves it
-She's close with all of her siblings, but Teddy is secretly her favorite. He's so much older than her so he feels really cool to her.
#harry potter#harry potter next generation#hp next gen#hp fandom#harry potter next gen fic#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fic#teddy lupin#victoire weasley#molly weasley ii#dominique weasley#roxanne weasley#fred weasley ii#lucy weasley#louis weasley#james sirius potter#albus severus potter#albus potter#lily luna potter#rose granger weasley#rose weasley#hugo granger weasley#hugo weasley#weasley family#weasley is our king#fanfiction#aesthetic board#headcannons#my headcanons#headcanon
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F**k your fav - Epilogue
F**k your fav | ←Previous
You were sitting in front of your laptop, looking at the same website as always.
You were on Satoru's lap while Suguru sat next to you, watching curiously as to what was causing his friend to ask for Threesome.
The same questions arose.
Question 1: Who is your partner for you?
Question 2: What do you think about your partner's character?
Question 3: What do you think about your partner's appearance?
Question 4: What do you like most about your partner?
Question 5: What do you like most about yourself?
Question 6: What do you think your partner looks best in?
Question 7: Do you think you're a good kisser?
Question 8: Do you think your partner is a good kisser?
Question 9: Where do you like to be touched most?
Question 10: What turns you on most about your partner?
Question 11: What do you like when your partner is with you?
Question 12: What is your dirty secret that you are hiding?
Question 13: How often do you masturbate?
Question 14: How often do you have sex?
Question 15: Do you like having sex with each other?
Question 16: Do you use toys?
Question 17: What do you think about your partner's sex drive?
Question 18: Do you like to experiment?
Question 19: What do you like to do most in bed? What type of sex do you prefer?
Question number 19 was what started it all.
The entire test had 20 questions. And you were stuck on 19 because Satoru didn't know what type of sex he liked. When you told Suguru about it, he couldn't believe it. He made so many things out of such a small problem. He even agreed to do anal with another guy to find out if Threesome was his favorite! This wasn't a completely normal task...
Would you rather you had sex normally, on the spur of the moment, and not when he wants you to check another item on his list? This must have been the strangest experience for Suguru...
"So, are you able to answer now?" Geto asked, watching his friend, who was staring at the question on the laptop screen. "I decided to help you not hear now that you still don't know. Satoru. So the idea of that exactly."
"And I thought you were horny for my girlfriend; that's why you agreed to it." he stuck his tongue out at him, and you hit him on the head to stop him from fooling around.
But now you were a little wondering if it was true...
But if you didn't like Suguru even a little, or he didn't like you, he wouldn't have agreed to it. And he agreed, and this all happened.
"Well... If I had to answer..."
You waited carefully for his response.
You both helped him so he could choose. So now you hope that -
"I cannot choose." he said bluntly.
You were frozen. Especially you, who helped him from the beginning. You let him do everything! For everything, even the strange ones! For him to say that he still can't choose?!
"Satoru!" You screamed.
"I can't choose! I think I like it all! I just like having sex with you in all kinds of ways!"
His hands, which held you close to him, were very warm. And all you could focus on was that.
It doesn't change the fact that he did everything he liked with your body so that he wouldn't choose one thing at the end.
If either of you would like, Suguru can join you. He was always close to you, like family. So it doesn't change.
But you could have been happy.
You could fuck your Satoru in every way.
And you fucked your fav.
Your fav is Satoru.
Your boyfriend moved on to the last question, which was:
Question 20: How did you like our questions? We encourage you to take part in our second project, “30 Day Sex Challenge.” Every day, you will be given the type of sex you need to have. If you are interested, click the link later.
"Noooo!" You screamed, and your hands shot out.
Before Satoru could turn it on, you closed the laptop and held it to stop him from running another test that would end the same as this one.
✨A/N✨
Thank you for reading F**k Your Fav! It's been a long road for me to make this. Even though it has few chapters, there were breaks that lasted several months. I was supposed to post this a week ago, but I had major problems with being an author on Wattpad. But it's over now! This was the last chapter! I can mark this story as finished and be happy with my success!This story was also written on the spur of the moment.I saw fanart and suddenly I came up with something. Now I know I can't trust all my sudden fantasies because at some point I'll have mental lag while writing this.And writing smut is not as easy as it may seem.
Anyway, thank you to everyone who made it to the end of this story
Thank you very much!
😘
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#gojo satoru#gojo x y/n#jjk x you#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#gojo#geto suguru#gojo x reader smut#gojo x you#gojo x reader x geto#f**k your fav
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Moving On (Namjoon x OC)
Summary: BTS performs in Amsterdam and Namjoon invites you to the afterparty.
Pairing: Namjoon x OC
Genre: Angst, smut
Word count: 8.2K
Rating: 18+
Warnings: language, angst, sex, nudity, making out, fingering, cumming, arguing,
A/N: Takes place a little over a month after Final Destination.
Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @sumzysworld, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)
Listen to: "where does the good go" by tegan and sara
namjoon masterlist | main masterlist
Joon [13:45] Did you get the email from Big Hit?
Kaya [13:50] Yes
Joon [13:51] The number at the end is their London office. They’ve been briefed already and have additional security available for all European locations.
Kaya [13:54] Okay
There’s a break in the chat here. Kaya stares at the time stamp, trying to picture him scrambling to find something else to say.
Joon [14:15] The company managed to track down the account that uploaded the video. Account has been taken down and they’ve sued for invasion of privacy.
Kaya [14:20] Okay
Joon [14:22] They’ve also offered to add damages to the suit, in case we want that. Do you?
Kaya [14:25] Not really
Joon [14:26] Okay then
Another break. Kaya scans the time stamps again, even though she’s memorised it by now. She remembers the three dots indicating him typing, seeing them appear and disappear over and over again.
Joon [14:40] How are you?
Kaya [14:45] Fine
Joon [14:46] How‘s work?
Kaya [14:48] Fine
Joon [14:50] Kaya I’m trying
Kaya [14:51] Class starting, got to go
He hadn’t responded and she hadn’t expected him to. Four days post break-up hadn’t been nearly long enough for her to let go of her anger but now, four weeks in, it’s only been replaced with an equal amount of sadness and longing.
Every conversation has been exactly this terse and abrupt, the last one being a week ago. It had appeared when she’d been teaching an elective class and it had taken every ounce of her will to not check it until the class ended. As it turned out, she couldn’t even think of a decent response to it.
“How can he possibly think of asking me this?” Kaya mutters, earphones in as she walks home. It’s dusk, a gorgeous time of the day, but she holds no appreciation for it right now.
“Wouldn’t it be worse if he didn’t ask?” Dilara asks reasonably. She’s in her car by the sound of it, a low hum audible of whichever fancy car of hers she’s decided to take out today.
Kaya swallows, pondering this. It might be, but it doesn’t address the problem she’s too embarrassed to voice out loud: it should be harder for him to ask. The thought that he might not be taking this break-up as hard as she is kills something inside of her, as if she’d misunderstood everything in the last three years.
Her strategy to save herself from hearing the truth had been to distance herself from everyone, including Yoongi, who had texted her out of the blue one day to ask her if she was okay (she hadn’t responded); Seokjin, who seemed to skirt the topic altogether and sounded as though he was speaking to someone very sick; and especially Dilara, who Kaya knew would be the only one with the capacity to ask insightful questions that she herself was too afraid to.
“It’s just… strange,” is all she can manage. “He hopped on a flight, shot a few emails, came over and broke up with me and then went right back to his schedule, all in one day. And now he's inviting me to a party?"
“After-party, so it won’t be, like… crazy,” Dilara clarifies. “And the concert before it.”
“I’m definitely not going to his concert.”
“Of course not,” she agrees breezily. “I wouldn’t expect you to. But the party… I mean, it’s a good thing, isn’t it? He doesn’t want you to be strangers.”
Kaya slows down as she approaches the river. She’s taken the long route home today - anything to prolong the commute before another night in her tainted apartment with memories on every surface.
“I don’t know if I want to see him.” I don’t know if I can. “He wants to see me, though, apparently,” she states after a moment.
Dilara doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I mean -“ She begins before pausing, then trying again. “I’m sure it’s going to be torture for him to see you. But even that’s better than not seeing you.”
Kaya doesn’t even realise she’d been holding her breath; she exhales as slowly as possible so as to not make a sound, both at Dilara’s words as well as her answering the unasked question.
She doesn’t respond immediately, though. Now that they’re down this route of addressing concerns she’s been harbouring in her heart for weeks, Kaya feels the rest of them on the verge of tumbling out of her mouth.
"You've seen him a bit these last couple of months,” she ventures, lowering her voice and leaning backwards against the railing overlooking the river. “Does it seem like he misses me at all?"
Dilara hums, a little too knowingly for Kaya’s liking. “Of course, he does. He’s not the most expressive when it comes to his feelings but aside from Tae last year, I don't think I've met a more miserable person."
Kaya waits for the swell of happiness or relief at this news, but all it brings with it is a new wave of anger and frustration.
“Thanks.”
"Look, speaking from experience, it's not easy seeing your ex after a difficult break-up,” says Dilara, sighing. “But sometimes you don't realise just how much you needed to see them until you see them, even if it's just to gain some closure."
Closure. It sounds… final. Kaya can’t picture it, being virtual strangers eventually, just bits of each other’s past. Ex-boyfriend, girl of his dreams, the one that got away. She hates all those words because they just don’t apply, not really. They can’t.
She closes her eyes and presses the heel of her palms into them to intercept the wetness forming, not caring that Dilara is still on the other end of the line. She and Namjoon had stood right here, years ago, living in the bliss of a new couple in fresh love. He’d brought her a bunch of tiny yellow flowers from the park, part-cheesy and part-genuine, eyes twinkling and dimples soft.
Kaya squeezes her eyes shut at the memory, terrified at how the edges of it are already blurring.
“I don’t think I’ll go,” she murmurs, opening her eyes to stare at the ground. “I can’t.”
“Are you sure?” Dilara sounds slightly surprised.
“Yeah. Two days from now is… it’s too soon. I’ll either cry or yell or… I don’t know. It’s too hard.”
“Oh.” She’s quiet for a few seconds. “Okay. If you’re sure. Let me know if you want to get together on Sunday,” she adds. “Brunch or something.”
“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”
—
The next day, Kaya is in the library again, grading papers and wishing she could go back to being a grad student who’s biggest problem was a pop quiz. She’s deliberately chosen a table at the back, away from where the students generally sit, which is why she looks up in surprise when someone comes to her table.
“H-hi, Kaya.” The student waves rests one hand on the back of an empty hair and waves hesitantly with the other.
“Um… hi.” Kaya tries not to frown too conspicuously, for she’s sure she knows this girl.
Svetlana. Savannah.
“Elena, right?”
“Yeah,” she answers with a nervous smile. “Um… are you busy?”
Kaya glances at the stacks of papers, books and laptop on the table. “Kind of, yeah.”
“Okay. Well… I just wanted to say hi.”
Kaya nods awkwardly and forces a small smile on her face. “Hi.”
Elena nods, tucking her hair behind her ears. She looks like she’s about to leave but at the last moment, sits down at the table. Kaya feels her smile fade for she really, really wants to be alone right now.
“How - how are things going?” She sounds nervous - extremely so. She seems to be fidgeting slightly and constantly touching her hair.
“Great,” says Kaya shortly, going back to her paper and hoping she’ll take the hint. “You?”
“Not bad, overall. I guess. Classes are hard and mid-terms are coming up as well…” Elena trails off. “Any plans for the weekend?”
Trying not to sigh, Kaya shakes her head. “Not really. You?”
“Well… I’m going to a concert tomorrow,” she answers hurriedly, and it’s clear that she’s been waiting to divulge this information, oblivious to how Kaya’s heart stops. “It should be fun. Do - do you listen to BTS?”
An unexpected notification from this morning floats into her kind. BTS continues their Europe leg by arriving in Amsterdam, ready to kick off the summer in style!
“No,” she answers truthfully.
“Oh.” Elena is quiet for a moment. “They’re really… good.”
There’s some awkward silence during which Kaya deliberately writes comments on the paper she’s grading, scratching the pen on the paper and wishing Elena would leave.
“It’ll be good to get out of campus. The people here are kind of intimidating. The parties are pretty wild, too,” she murmurs after a moment, sounding uncomfortable.
Kaya nods absently, uncharacteristically satisfied with the knowledge that she might be intimidating this unwanted guest. “Maybe you’re going to the wrong parties,” she offers.
Elena lets out a nervous laugh again. “Maybe. I never see you at them, though. There’s one, tonight, in the common room. Maybe you could come,” she suggests lightly. “Bring a friend or - or your boyfriend.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she answers flatly, not looking up.
“You - oh.” There’s a note of surprise in her voice. “Oh,” she repeats, this time seemingly to herself. “Are you sure?” she blurts out.
Kaya’s eyes snap up to glare at her. “Pretty sure.”
Elena’s eyes widen. “Oh, of - of course,” she stutters. “Sorry, that - that was a stupid question. Sorry.” She swallows and looks at her lap.
Kaya closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, immediately feeling guilty for snapping at an innocent bystander in this situation. “Elena, I… I really need to get these papers done,” she tells her, her voice one of forced calm. “So…”
The blonde finally seems to understand and awkwardly stands up. “Okay. Um, see you around,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear again.
Kaya nods as she leaves, Namjoon’s invitation swimming in her mind tantalisingly. She can’t ignore it anymore, the fact that they’re in the same city, her city. If she’s not wrong, he’ll do the concert tomorrow night, the group will probably stay the night and depart by Sunday afternoon or evening and she will probably never see him again.
She attempts to continue grading the paper she was working on when Elena interrupted, but when she finds herself reading the same stupid sentence for the fourth time without retaining anything, she begins packing up, ready to head home.
—
Joon [18:42] Hope to see you there tonight
Kaya, with a loss as to how to respond to this, simply did not. She can’t imagine he would be texting her during his concert, but she also knows he has before, if the situation was urgent enough to demand it.
She straightens the black dress against her hips and tilts her head at her reflection. It’s a simple dress, plain black, form-fitting and reaching below her knees, but it’s quite possibly the most gorgeous, sexiest dress she owns.
If she and Namjoon were together, she would have worn it tonight with no hesitation because it would have driven him insane. After weeks of being apart, seeing her in this dress would have rendered him incapable of staying in work mode without dirty texts, flirty touches and eyes from across the room undressing her. Even now, with a bare face, her hair tied into a loose bun and no footwear, the dress is a game-changer.
She gives herself a few moments to imagine this paradise, one that might have come true tonight had she never told him about the break-in. Then, she silently unzips the dress and climbs out of the black fabric pooled around her feet. Tucking it back into her closet, she looks for something else.
Dilara [18:50] In case you change your mind, sharing the location here [Location]
Dilara’s text had come minutes after Namjoon’s, and Kaya has to imagine it was a genuine coincidence. Although she’d replied to neither, it was the second text that caused her to change her mind - that, and the lingering fear that if she didn’t go today, she didn’t know how either of them would be able to maneuver a situation to see each other again.
The concert should end in a little over an hour. Her phone pings again and she groans, for she doesn’t think she can take any more of their unsubtle attempts at convincing her to go tonight. It’s not Namjoon or Dilara, though, but Adam Fischer, her thirty-something thesis advisor, asking if she wants to discuss the coming week’s class schedule tonight.
Kaya shakes her head as she types out a reply (Sorry, I can’t tonight. Will set up a meeting for first thing Monday if that’s okay?), a little rueful. Namjoon heavily disliked Adam, despite having no concrete reason for doing so. He’d always suspected Adam of having feelings for her, even though Adam hadn’t said or done anything to make her think he might. Part of her wonders if she could somehow ditch the party for this meeting and still make sure that the news travelled to Namjoon through the grapevine (Dilara), and if that would still piss him off even now.
She immediately cringes at the pettiness of it, however, sending her reply to Adam and heading into the shower.
The party is at the rooftop restaurant of the hotel next to the concert venue, and presumably where BTS is staying while in Amsterdam. It isn’t as crowded as she was anticipating, although the music is fairly loud. It looks more like a fancy houseparty, and even a few seconds in, Kaya can spot a handful of vaguely famous people in attendance. She looks around for a familiar face, preferably Dilara or Yoongi or one of the younger boys, wishing she’d called ahead and trying not to think about the fact that in spite of not RSVP-ing, her name was on the guest list.
She takes another hesitant step in and audibly sighs when she spots Taehyung, who, for reasons best known to himself, has accessorised his outfit with an ascot. He seems to be in an animated conversation with Jungkook, while standing in between them and facing ahead, with loose curls tumbling down her shoulders and looking slightly bored, is…
“Kaya!”
Dilara’s mouth forms her name over the music as she brushes past her boyfriend and his friend and hurries towards Kaya, looking both happy and relieved to see her. “You look hot!” she exclaims when she reaches her.
“Oh -” Kaya looks down self-consciously; she’d settled for a straight strapless top and jeans, unable to justify dressing sexier without seeming like she was trying too hard for her ex-boyfriend. “Thanks. And you look…” She frowns slightly at Dilara’s mini-dress and go-go boots, with a slightly out-of-place gold ring hanging around her neck. “... like Daphne Blake.”
Dilara’s face visibly falls. “I look like a cartoon character?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.
“Well, a very pretty cartoon character,” she adds quickly. “Especially with the headband. But… why?”
She rolls her eyes. “Taehyung picked it - but I’m sure it’s not because of Daphne Blake.” Spotting Kaya’s confused expression, she shrugs sheepishly. “We got into an argument yesterday about who has better taste, so we decided to go shopping at The Nine Streets and pick each other’s outfits for tonight.”
Kaya raises her eyebrows, something seemingly clicking into place. “So the ascot is your doing?”
“M-hm.” She nods in satisfaction before her eyes widen. “Oh, hey! An ascot - like Fred!” She lets out a low whistle at this realisation and laughs, while Kaya nods knowingly, feeling the urge to smile for the first time in what feels like weeks. “Not planned but zero regrets. I wonder if Tae knows that - oh.”
Kaya cuts her off mid-sentence with a hug, suddenly immensely grateful for Dilara. She can’t remember the last time she’d let anyone into her life this much with the exception of Namjoon; but just maybe, when she’d been happy with him and her guard had been lowered, Dilara had slipped in without warning as well.
She tightens her arms around Kaya and rubs her back. “It’s good to see you, too,” she says, sounding part-surprised and part-delighted. “It’s been a while but I promise that we will still - oh, hey.” The change in tone is abrupt. “Incoming.”
By the way her voice immediately lowers, Kaya is sure she knows what Dilara is referring to. Her heart beating a mile a minute, she pulls away from the hug and turns as casually as she can.
Her first thought is that he looks thinner - visibly so. Well, he’s on tour, says a voice in her head but Kaya suspects that’s not the only reason, for he’d been on tour when he’d broken up with her as well.
His hair is a silvery blond, looking almost metallic; dressed simply in a black T-shirt and jeans, he runs a hand through his hair so it falls gracefully around his face as he approaches her, his face unreadable.
“Hi,” he says, and it sounds like all the breath has been let out of him with just one word. He swallows and straightens his shoulders, a small smile appearing on his face, the dimple faintly visible. “It’s good to see you, Kaya.”
Kaya nods, unable to speak and overcome with a sudden urge to cry. “You, too,” she murmurs, glancing at the floor and blinking rapidly before looking back up at him, a bit defiantly.
“I’m glad you decided to come.”
She nods again, her chest twisting at how normal he sounds. He’s standing far away from her as well, as though to make it clear in every way possible that they’re not together.
“Hope you had a good concert,” she ventures, recalling the grad student who’d accosted her yesterday, practically beside herself at attending a BTS concert. “Backstage must have been hectic.”
A flicker of something appears in his eyes for a moment, possibly with memories of backstage. Wishes of luck, last minute hugs, sweaty and passionate kisses fueled by adrenaline. But it disappears instantly and Kaya wonders if she imagined it.
“It was,” he answers, nodding. He slides his hands into his pockets smoothly, leaning back on his heels and his smile widening a little. “But worth it as always. The crew did well.”
Kaya doesn’t even bother nodding this time; all of a sudden, she regrets coming here tonight. Dilara has left, she just realises, and Namjoon is acting like they’re acquaintances at best, making her feel stupid and yet immensely grateful that she didn’t wear the sexy black dress.
At that moment, his eyes flicker to something behind her. “I’m sorry, I just need to go and say hi to a couple of people. But enjoy your night. It’s an open bar,” he adds, smiling and nodding politely before brushing past her and walking away.
Kaya doesn’t move; she doesn’t think she can. Something heavy feels like it’s settled on her chest, the weight of confusion, disbelief and crushing disappointment threatening to suffocate her. She has no idea what she’d been expecting; maybe arguing, fighting, crying together again - but not him not caring. Not this.
Namjoon continues walking in the opposite direction for as long as he can keep Kaya in his peripheral vision, both guilty and relieved when she doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t think he can look her in the eye if she does, witness the pain and hurt in her face that close.
He catches Seokjin’s eye and hurries over to him. Seokjin raises his eyebrows and seems to guess what might have transpired, ushering him over to the other end of the circular bar and out of Kaya’s line of sight.
“How did it go?”
Namjoon rests his palms on the bar and shakes his head, no words coming to him at the moment and feeling like he could throw up. He can’t fathom how he did it, how he stood there before her and didn’t immediately pull her to him, or break down and ask her to forgive him for doing the only thing he knew to do.
“Drink this.” Seokjin slides a glass to him and Namjoon takes it without hesitation, taking a huge gulp and waiting for it to sting his sinuses.
“This is water,” he states hoarsely, frowning at the glass.
“Cold water,” corrects Seokjin. “It’ll help clear your head.”
Namjoon takes another sip and places the glass down, dropping his head into his hands. “I can’t do this. How do I tell her I can’t do this? How do I ask her to -“ But he breaks off here, his mind swimming with the sight of her bare shoulders and exposed collarbones, imagining how they would feel if he held her.
“Okay.” Seokjin exhales through his nose and pauses. “Look, I have to ask. You’ve seen the state she is in. And you’re…” He struggles for a moment “...like this. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to ask her to get back -“
“No.” The answer is instant, although it’s partly a habit by now. As he does every time his mind tries to convince him otherwise, Namjoon forces the memory of her phone call to the forefront of his mind, the fear in her voice and devastation on her face when he’d entered her apartment.
“But maybe this is -“
“No.”
Seokjin is silent and Namjoon can tell that he doesn’t approve. Please don’t ask me again, hyung. He doesn’t know if he did the right thing by inviting her but he couldn’t imagine not doing it either, not being right here in her city, knowing she was so close that he could almost smell the coconut and vanilla in the air and still not see her in the flesh.
“If you’re sure,” says Seokjin at last. “If you are, then I guess you did well. Just… just be normal around her. Keep a normal distance, talk about normal things and…” He half-shrugs, sounding uncertain. “She’s smart. She’ll understand. If you’re sure you want to do this, then… she’ll get it.”
Normal. Namjoon knows what he means, but he wants to tell him that none of this is normal. Not touching her, not being honest with her, not being with her - none of it is normal.
“She’s talking to Yoongi right now,” he adds, and Namjoon turns to see them near the stairs to the top floor. Kaya’s back is to him, her head lowered slightly and her thumbs hooked onto the back pockets of her jeans, the material hugging her hips and curving down her backside… He swallows and looks away.
“This is your chance,” says Seokjin. “Go and mingle. Let her see you moving on - even if you actually aren’t,” he clarifies quickly. “It won’t be pleasant but it might encourage her to do the same.”
Namjoon isn’t sure of the wisdom of this strategy but ever since the cause of his break-up had been revealed to the older members (and surely to Taehyung at least, by Dilara), he’d almost been relieved that he wouldn’t have to make every decision on his own.
He tries his best to navigate the party after that, making empty conversation with guests, using every bit of remaining energy and willpower to plaster a smile on his face. All the while, part of his attention is constantly on Kaya, registering her familiar figure alone at the bar as she nurses a beer, sometimes with Dilara.
Be normal. Seokjin’s words start holding less and less meaning with every passing minute, especially when he spots Kaya having finished her drink and he’s struck with the sudden fear that she will leave the party. In an effort to be as normal as he can, Namjoon heads over to the bar where she’s scanning the life-size menu half-heartedly, arms folded across her chest.
“Like anything?” he asks humbly. Long Island Iced Tea or a Mai Tai - depends on the flavours. His heart jolts when she shoots him a doubtful look and doesn’t answer, almost as if she’s wary of talking to him. She leans over the bar and gives the bartender a smile that makes his heart drop, especially when he grins back.
“Komt de mai tai in mango?” she asks, half-pouting when he shakes his head. “Een biertje, alsjeblieft,” she says finally, taking her second beer and turning away from the bar.
Namjoon doesn’t remember ever feeling this distant from her. “I’m glad you came tonight,” he tries again, choosing to look at her even though she’s facing away.
Kaya nods, pursing her lips and looking ahead. “Yeah, you said that already.” But her voice trembles ever so slightly, or maybe he just knows her so well that he’s sure it’s not a case of her not wanting to look at him - she can’t look at him.
It’s all on him now. He started this; if there is any hope of them still staying in each other’s lives, it’s down to him to make it happen.
“How’s your dissertation going?” he asks, hoping her work is a topic she might open up on.
She shrugs after a moment. “Off schedule,” she answers shortly. “A lot of variables hanging in the air.”
“Did you get into the research project you’d applied for?”
It’s momentary but it appears: the corner of her mouth tilts upwards. “Yeah,” she admits, finally looking at him, albeit hesitantly. “Guess I’ll have a lot more time to focus on it now,” she murmurs, the hint of a smile fading.
Namjoon’s heart sinks. She’s so angry with him; it’s palpable and not something he has ever been on the receiving end of. Her hand hangs by her side; his own itches to link his fingers with his, maybe tug her to him or lead her out of this stupid party where he can plead for her to just look at him.
“Well,” he says, then pauses. “I’m glad you could get the time off tonight. Must have been hard.”
“M-hm, not really.” She shakes her head. “Adam wanted to meet but I’ll probably catch up with him later,” she adds nonchalantly.
Namjoon nods, his hand tightening around his glass. He can’t tell if she’s trying to provoke him, for they do work closely; close enough that Adam’s intentions have always been a point of disagreement for them. He’d never been able to explain to her just how much he hated the way her advisor looked at her when she didn’t notice, how his hugs always lingered a moment too long or how he insisted on calling her late in the evenings to discuss work.
He’s distracted momentarily by Jungkook, who approaches them while bopping effortlessly to the music and stops in between them, turning to face in the same direction as Namjoon and Kaya. He’s definitely tipsy; the smile on his face is too big and he doesn’t seem to be reading the room at all.
“Dilara is a really good dancer, isn’t she?” he says loudly in English to no one in particular. Namjoon frowns and follows his gaze to see Dilara, Taehyung and Hoseok dancing, before turning back to look at Jungkook. On his other side, Kaya is also frowning at him, tilting her head curiously. Their eyes meet and she raises her eyebrows slightly.
Namjoon fights a smile as Kaya half-chuckles and looks away, his heart twisting with longing at how much he misses her. She looks so incredibly beautiful; his eyes sting when he realises that there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.
“I’m gonna -“ He gestures vaguely and walks away in the opposite direction, desperate to be anywhere but around her before his resolve breaks.
The next half hour is a flurry of faces; Namjoon distracts himself with every single individual at the party, making small talk and exchanging unfunny jokes and hyper aware of Kaya occasionally glancing at him.
He knows, because he’s watching her, too, doing his best to make sure she doesn’t see him looking. He can’t even help it; it’s almost muscle memory at this point.
“Who are you looking at?” The woman he’s talking to asks him point-blank.
Namjoon flushes, realising he’d been staring at Kaya over her shoulder while she’d been speaking.
“No one,” he answers quickly. “Sorry.”
The twenty-something woman frowns curiously. “Are you sure? I’m not offended.”
“It’s… nothing.” He shakes his head and looks at the floor.
“Ex-girlfriend?”
Ex. Not trusting himself to speak, Namjoon nods.
“Hm.” She hums, somewhat sympathetically. “Bad break-up?”
“Pretty bad.”
“I’m sorry,” she says after a moment. “It’s never easy to be around an ex if it hasn’t ended well.”
“Yeah, well,” he says, desperate to change the topic. “All part of the process, right?”
“Right,” she says encouragingly. “Plus, once you’re past this phase, the one where you constantly want to die, you can begin the drink and eat and hook up as much as you want stage with no judgement.”
He chuckles politely, the prospect sounding horrendous. “Thanks. Feels good to laugh for real.”
She smiles wider and, before he knows it, leans forward and presses a kiss against his lips.
It takes Namjoon a couple of seconds of pure shock before he jumps backwards. “Whoa. What -“ His heart races uncomfortably. “What was that?”
“Sorry,” she says slowly, looking a little confused. “I thought… you wanted to make your ex jealous. Isn’t that where you were going with this?”
“No,” he clarifies immediately. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t want to - no.” In the midst of his minor crisis, he notes how the woman looks almost mortified.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -”
“It’s fine,” he cuts her off, suddenly feeling horribly guilty. He looks up out of habit and sees, unmistakably, Kaya leaving the restaurant, her long dark hair and the shimmery dark blue of her top disappearing out the door.
—
The night has gotten chillier in the last couple of hours and the cool wind hits her bare shoulders the moment she steps out, but Kaya barely feels it. She’s not thinking right now; thinking is what’s got them here, thinking about everything and overthinking to the point of fleeing a restaurant.
“Kaya!”
Her feet increase their pace automatically the same time her stomach flips, but he’s taller and faster and he reaches her before she can even reach the elevator.
“Kaya,” he repeats hurriedly, reaching and grabbing her elbow. “Wait, please. I’m sorry -”
“Why did you even invite me here?” she asks, cutting him off and turning around to face him. She’s so tired; she didn’t think break-ups could be this exhausting. “You’ve barely said anything to me. Was it to show me in person how you’re moving on? Because if that’s the case, then… message received.”
Namjoon shakes his head immediately; he looks exhausted as well, and Kaya is once again struck by how much thinner he is, overcome with a mixture of empathy and frustration at him.
“That was not - I didn’t plan that,” he says, sighing. “I don’t even know who she is. She kissed me and it wasn’t… come on, does it look like I’m moving on?” he asks, raising his arms helplessly.
Kaya stares at him and then sighs, shaking her head. “Why did you invite me here?” she asks again, less defensive this time.
“Because I wanted to see you,” he says at once.
She stares at him. “Well, you’ve seen me,” she says, sniffing. “Can I go now?”
“Kaya…”
“What?”
Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, looking lost for words. “Please don’t -“ He breaks off abruptly before taking a step closer to her, his height both large and comforting. “I don’t want you to be sad. I’m sorry.”
Too late. “You’re not supposed to care how I feel. Not anymore.”
He lets out a humourless chuckle. “What?”
“We’re over.” She can hear the tremble in her voice as she crosses her arms across her chest again. “You said it yourself. You’re not supposed to care how I feel.”
“Really?” He narrows his eyes at her. “You think this break-up had anything to do with how I feel about you? You know as I do that it didn’t.” When she doesn’t answer, he sighs. “I did this because I care.”
“If you say so.”
He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Are you deliberately trying to provoke me or something?”
“Provoke you into what?” she blurts out. “What - what is that you want, exactly? What do you want us to do? Just circle around in each other’s orbits for the rest of our lives, while still being - while still feeling the way we do?” she asks, avoiding her almost-slip of tongue. “We’re just supposed to stay not be together and still stay in each other’s lives? What - what do you want?”
Namjoon opens his mouth but falls silent; it’s clear he hasn’t thought that far ahead - or he can’t say it out loud. “I want…” He begins, before pausing and starting again. “I want… you to be happy,” he says eventually. “And safe.”
She scoffs and he bristles.
“I’m serious. I -” He breaks off when someone exits the restaurant, his gaze following them until they’re out of sight before he turns back to her. “This is hard for me, too, you know? Why is it so hard for you to believe I might want you to be happy?”
Kaya exhales but doesn’t answer, because it isn’t hard to believe, not even a little bit. It’s unfortunately the most believable thing he’s ever said to her which means she can’t even fight it.
“How?” she asks finally. “By moving on, like you were pretending to do?”
Namjoon bites his lip and his eyes glaze over, and she knows he’s picturing it. His eyes fall to the floor but he nods slowly anyway. “Yeah, I guess. As long as I don’t have to watch it,” he adds in a mutter.
It’s really over. Kaya feels her eyes well up. “Fine,” she answers quietly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find someone to move on with tonight.” She turns to leave but feels him stop her again. “What?” she snarls.
“Kaya, I -” The lift opens and a handful of people tumble out, holding merchandise and talking loudly. Namjoon’s eyes widen and he immediately grabs her arms and walks her back into a corner, just as the group turns into their corridor and towards the restaurant.
“What are you -”
But the second lift opens just then and they hear the sound of a second group of voices. Namjoon swears under his breath and pushes open a door behind her, walking her back further into the tiny dark room and letting the door swing shut behind him.
“What is wrong with -���
“It’s press,” he hisses, and she falls silent.
He peers out into the corridor through the small window in the door; there’s no light except for the bit through the window and from a skylight in the ceiling. Kaya can smell something vaguely citric that she decides is floor cleaner; they are in a janitor’s closet.
She and Namjoon are frozen in place, his hands still on her arms and hers on his torso to keep from losing her balance. It’s been a long time since they’ve been this close; it takes Kaya a few seconds to realise that the voices outside have disappeared, but he still hasn’t moved away.
Almost as if he’s subconsciously heard her, his thumbs stroke her arm once. The simple touch makes all the anger crumble away for a moment, especially now that it’s just them with the rest of the world shut outside. Kaya hesitates for a moment, then gently rests her forehead on his shoulder. Namjoon stiffens but a moment later, she feels his fingers tighten above her elbows, followed by him loosely enveloping her in his arms.
It seems cruel, almost, that the target of her anger and source of her comfort lie in the same person. It isn’t even a hug; it’s a moment of weakness at best, borne from his almost subconscious need to protect her. For the first time, Kaya wonders if she’s being unfair to him.
Resisting the temptation to wrap her arms around his waist, she steps away from him with difficulty, her back touching the wall. His arms fall from around her reluctantly, his expression resigned. It’s dark but she can see him more clearly than she has all night.
“This is a terrible idea,” she murmurs, echoing her words from a month ago. “The worst you’ve ever had.”
Namjoon exhales shakily but doesn’t argue. “I meant everything I said in that note,” he says, not even trying to hide the tremble in his voice anymore. “And I really do want you to be happy.”
The note. The one he’d kept on her bedside table when he’d left her apartment while she slept, the only thing of his that was left when she’d awoken, naked and alone. She’d only had the strength to read it once before she’d broken down and tucked it deep into her drawer, knowing the words would be etched in her memory.
“You know what will make me happy,” she whispers, looking at the ground. She feels him come closer to her, one hand hovering by her side as though unable to decide if she’d want her to touch him.
He finally rests it lightly on her waist, moving it slightly upward as she looks up at him, her heart twisting at how he’s unable to meet her eyes. She places her hands on his face, thinking vaguely how much she misses seeing his dimple.
“Joon,” she whispers, waiting for him to nod once. “Look at me.”
Namjoon visibly swallows, gaze still fallen. “Kaya, I…”
“No,” she interrupts him. “Look at me.”
With what seems like an enormous effort, he meets her eyes. This is hard for me too, you know?
She knows. Kaya strokes his cheekbones with her thumbs, her touch feather-light. “Kiss me,” she whispers. She touches her forehead to his and closes her eyes, hoping he’ll give in, for she can’t go further than this.
His hand tightens around her waist, pressing her into the wall. Their lips brush momentarily and he shivers.
“Do it,” she urges, her voice barely audible now. “Kiss me.”
She feels his lips before she even registers him moving against her and she leans into it, feeling like she can breathe for the first time in weeks. Come back to me, she thinks desperately. Come back to where you belong.
It’s like he can hear her. Namjoon pulls away, one hand on the wall beside her face for support, the other holding her.
“Fuck,” he whispers, and it sends a jolt of anticipation through her heart. “I love you, Kaya,” he adds, voice full of emotion. Kaya nods, unable to speak, wishing he would meet her eyes. He moves his hands to her face and touches his forehead to hers again, swallowing.
Look at me.
But he doesn’t. “But you have no idea,” he continues, every word sounding like it's costing him effort, “how I felt when you called me that night. The things that went through my mind…” He sniffs, and Kaya’s heart sinks. “I can’t let that happen again baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
She can feel her face start to contort and she drops her hands from his shoulders, for she knows this part by heart. “Goodbye, Namjoon,” she mutters thickly, sliding out from between him and the wall. She pushes open the door and hurries out, leaving him behind.
—
When she hears the knock on her front door the next morning, Kaya is just about to step into the shower. She freezes and sighs, for she really, really needs this shower. She considers ignoring it but the knock sounds again and she groans, abandoning the activity of tying up her hair and letting it fall loose instead.
Grabbing the old, threadbare robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, she pulls it around herself and shuffles to the front door. She peers through the peephole and her heart stops for a moment, but she steels herself and opens the door.
Namjoon stands before her, hands in his pockets and shoulders slightly hunched. “Hey. I just wanted to - oh, God,” he switches abruptly, his expression changing from vaguely apologetic to shocked, and he slips inside the apartment.
“What?” Kaya asks, taken off guard and stumbling backwards.
“You really opened the door wearing that?” he hisses, shutting the door behind him. “I could’ve been anyone!”
“I knew it was you,” she argues, tightening the belt around her waist and realising, for the first time, how short the robe is. But she isn’t about to admit that to him, especially not when he’s turned up unannounced and decided to begin his visit by berating her. She folds her arms across her chest. “What do you want, Namjoon?”
He hesitates, almost as though he’s just noticing how displeased she is. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking a bit ashamed. “I didn’t mean to… anyway,” he says quickly, wringing his hands and slipping them back in his pockets. “How are you?”
Kaya shrugs suspiciously. He looks remarkably different from where she’d left him last night, almost breaking down and apologising to her. Right now, he seems almost… calm. She can almost imagine that last night had been a slip-up of emotion, possibly due to tiredness and an open bar, whereas in the light of day, he’s back to being the responsible ex who’s fulfilling his obligations by checking up on her each day.
“I’m great.”
He nods after a moment, clearly not believing her. “Well, I came here because…” He sighs and a glimmer of last night’s emotion appears on his face. “I thought about what you said last night. And you were right.”
The jolt in her stomach is almost painful, but Kaya hangs on. If he was talking about what she thinks he is, he would be delivering it far more differently.
“We can’t keep doing this. I can’t expect you to keep doing this,” he adds. “Staying in this limbo, not knowing…” He bites his lip and lowers his gaze, removing his hands from his pockets. “You have every right to move on. I want you to - to be happy.”
Kaya licks her lips slowly. “This,” she says coldly, “could’ve been a text.”
“I didn’t want to leave things the way they were last night,” he tells her, his voice softer. “You’re, uh…” His voice breaks off for a moment. “You’re the love of my life. And we were together for a long time and I… I loved every moment of it. I just want to say goodbye the right way.”
Her throat hurts holding back the rush of emotion that threatens to overwhelm her.
“Are you sure?” She can’t resist asking, in a whisper. When he nods and lowers his eyes, she feels the heavy, heavy anchor of acceptance settle in her stomach.
Namjoon hesitantly reaches out with one hand but when she gives him a look, he nods and steps forward, and they meet in their last hug, three and a half years after their first last hug in her apartment.
Kaya hugs him tight, no longer caring about hiding how she feels. There isn’t enough time to try and memorise everything so she doesn’t even try; she just goes higher on her toes and presses her nose into his shoulder, revelling in his scent one last time.
Namjoon doesn’t seem to be doing much better. He’s holding her tight, so tight that it doesn’t seem like he’s ever intending on letting her go. His face is in her hair and his arms stroke her back in small movements, his go-to movement to comfort her since they met.
Just a few more seconds. The sensations increase now; the feel of his shoulders, his chest touching hers - and she’s suddenly conscious of the thin robe being the only thing separating her naked body from him.
At the same time, his hands move to her waist - out of habit, she knows, but she can’t help but be extremely aware of it. His hand stops just above the curve of her hips, quickly and abruptly.
Her mouth feels dry, but her legs press together. Then, as though he can read her mind and the direction her thoughts are invariably leading in, against her hip, she can feel his body react.
She lets out a soft gasp and feels his body stiffen around her. This is goodbye, a voice reminds her, urging her brain to focus on the matter at hand. But it’s slipping - fading, almost, as a physical urge struggles for dominance.
Her lips brush his neck as she pulls away - she has to pull away - but it doesn’t matter in the end because somewhere along the way his lips find hers and all thought disappears, replaced by touch, feel and hunger.
Namjoon sighs into her mouth like he’s breathing for the first time, pulling her close. Her robe starts to loosen and he tugs at the belt, groaning when his hands touch her bare skin.
“Fuck, are you really not wearing anything under this?” he murmurs, his voice so low and reverberating so deep inside her that she shivers.
The robe is off; it’s cool and sudden air, a moment where his hands fall from her waist and then their back but this time, it’s skin against skin. It’s lips and sighs and tight grips, the feel of denim, her fingers moving out of habit as they unbutton and unzip - and then there’s pride and relief when she feels his desire for her, still the same as ever, no matter his words.
There’s something solid against her back; somewhere, dimly, her mind registers that her dining table is rickety and has her laptop on it, and then she’s leaning forward and he’s behind her and his chest is against her back and he wants her just as much as he wants him.
“Are you -“
“I’m still on birth control,” she confirms tightly, the next moment feeling his fingers on her hips and then he’s inside her again, after so long. She could almost sob at how good it feels, how right, the lips on her shoulder and his scent and touch.
But it’s over too soon. She gasps and falls forward, her ears ringing and heart hurting at the same time as her heart races. He’s getting close, too; she tries to memorise it now, the exact moment, but then he pulls out. It’s sudden, the emptiness, but the next moment, she feels wetness on her back.
It takes around ten seconds, ten seconds when she’s frozen before she finally hears him sigh and take a step away. A moment later, she reaches across the table and pulls the tissue box towards her, reaching behind and wiping her back.
Kaya turns slightly to see him pulling on his T-shirt, jeans buttoned already. She picks up her robe and pulls it on hurriedly, suddenly not wanting to be naked for even another microsecond in front of him.
Something feels wrong. It’s not the first time he’s finished on her; he’s done it before, on explicit request and without, none of which ever made her feel… like this. Self-conscious. Bare.
Namjoon clears his throat. “I -“ He meets her eyes, still panting slightly. “I still want to… do this right,” he says, sounding almost formal. “Goodbye, Kaya.”
He starts to take a step forward but pauses. “Maybe we shouldn’t hug,” he murmurs, offering her a small smile. Kaya watches as he hesitantly offers her a hand.
This is goodbye. Kaya can’t remember ever feeling this uncomfortable around him. The momentary loss of her sense of reason feels like it’s returned in full form, and she tightens the robe around her. She starts to reach for his hand but then stops.
“This is what you meant?” she asks quietly. “When you said you wanted to do it the right way? You wanted to see if you could squeeze in one last fuck before you closed this out like a business meeting?”
“What?” Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No! I didn’t - I didn’t want that to happen! I mean - you know that’s not what I meant,” he adds quickly. “I didn’t plan this. You and I both -“
“You planned our break-up and I had no idea,” she cuts him off, the shame and embarrassment creeping up her throat. “I really don’t know anymore.”
He scoffs, but his eyes flicker like he’s been stung. “Is that what you think of me? We were both here, Kaya. It wasn’t just me - you wanted this just as much as I -“
“I slept with Adam.”
Namjoon freezes. He swallows and his eyes flicker again, rapidly this time. “You’re lying,” he whispers.
Kaya shrugs, holding his gaze with every last bit of willpower in her. “You were the one who told me to move on last night,” she reminds him, watching his expression crumble and doing nothing to stop it.
After what feels like several minutes, or maybe even hours, Namjoon nods slowly. Then, without another word, he turns around and opens the door, walking out of her life and shutting the door behind him.
—
Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)
#namjoon fanfic#namjoon x oc#thebtswritersclub#bangtanwhq#micdropnet#k-vanity#houseofddaeng#wkcnet#hyunglinenetwork#bts rm fanfic#bts rm angst#bts rm smut
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July Creator of the Month: Eadanga
Please welcome this month’s Creator of the Month: @eadanga
Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists. The writer or artist is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTM's can be found here.
Tumblr Blog Name: Eadanga How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Esang
Quick Links:
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1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?
I don't remember the year, but I started playing when it was only The Crown & The Flame, The Freshman, and Most Wanted. I thought it was a rip-off of Episode because many apps like that exist. The first book I started playing was The Crown & The Flame, and then I got bored of it, so I tried The Freshman, and I was hooked. Been playing ever since 😃
2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?
I joined about four years ago. I was in a Choices group on Facebook and saw people sharing fanfics. I first thought it was an ad, but when I looked, it was a fanfic, and it was amazing. That's when I joined so I could read more, and then I posted one of my own that I wrote.
3- How did you pick your blog name?
Literally, it's just my name. I didn't think I'd be here long, not to mention posting. It's the first letter of my name, Esang, and my last name, Adanga. Maybe one day I'll change it 🤣😂
4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!
This was my first post. I saw people making stories in the Choices group and decided to make one of my own. I didn't think it would get much attention, but it did 😁
5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both?
I write fanfiction, but I’m not really good at making art, lol
6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?
Let's see, I think I started in 2020. Choices is the only fandom I write for.
7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?
The Freshman and The Royal Romance will always be my number one favorite books to read and write for 😁
8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?
This was my favorite, and I'll never change anything about it. It is so romantic, hehe 😍
9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created?
This one wrote it for @flowerpowell, and even though she doesn't post anymore, it was so much fun to write something for her.
10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?
It's definitely my Deepest Desire series. I didn't expect people to enjoy it, especially @littlegreenmoo, who was having a field day with that series 🤣. Chris's Journal could have been better; a little bit more detail would have made it pop.
11- (WRITERS) If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?
I hate angst, and I haven't written smut since my Deepest Desire series 🤣 so fluff all the way. I love happy endings 😁
12 - Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?
I put some of me in my MCs, like when they're cooking, cause I love to cook 😁
13 - What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?
Keeping up with a schedule. I make one, but then real life gets in the way, and I gotta change it.
14 - Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?
Eternal Love, I haven't written for that in a long time. I just got caught up with other fanfics, and then you lose inspiration, but I will get back to it one day.
15 - If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first?
Yes, I would love to show them, but I've shown my work without people asking. I've shown my best friend my work; she didn't ask. I just showed it to her, and she enjoyed it. I've shown my mom, too. She constantly told me to send it somewhere and get paid even though I only write for fun, not as a job. I stopped showing her after that because she was tired of hearing that.
16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing or art? Are there any artists that influence you?
@maxattackpowell and @drivenbyfantasy are both no longer here, but their fanfics inspired mine. I’m grateful to both of them for that.
17- (WRITERS) Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?
The Graduate would make a great movie or Choices book, hehe.
18- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art?
Choices is my first fandom.
19- What other hobbies do you have?
I love cooking and baking, watching anime (I'm a total anime nerd 🤣), spending time with my baby @choicesgodfanatic, reading Archie comics, watching cartoons, praise dancing, and writing episode stories.
20- BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to)
Thanks to everyone who enjoys all my stories, and don't ever worry about me leaving cause I'm here to stay. Choices is why I met my amazing love @choicesgodfanatic. It's part of our love story, and I'll never give up on it.
Plus, I've met some wonderful people here and never want to leave them. So glad you all enjoy my fanfics, and look out for many more cause more is coming your way 😁
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Enough to Go By (Chapter 16) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic
Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17
Chapter 16
“We can’t stop here.”
“Why not? It’s out of the way. There are abandoned buildings. It’s perfect.” Dabi gestures down at the small village between the hills. “I don’t get what your problem is.”
Spinner crosses his arms over his chest. “Just trust me. It’s not a good place.”
“Why not?” Toga asks – whines, almost. “I’m tired. It’s dark. Can’t we just find somewhere and –”
“We’ll protect you if there are ghosts!” Twice chimes in. “Or you can sleep in a tree.”
Spinner’s shoulders stiffen. “Hey,” you warn. You turn your attention to Spinner. “If you know something we don’t that makes it not safe for everybody –”
“It’s safe for you all,” Spinner says. “Not for me. This is a sundown town. The CRC has a branch here.”
Your heart sinks. “The who?” Tomura says blankly. Everybody else looks just as confused.
“The Creature Rejection Clan,” you say, before anyone can prompt Spinner to explain. He shouldn’t have to explain. “They’re a hate group. Against people whose quirks visibly alter their bodies.”
“Mutants,” Spinner says shortly. “If they catch you with me we’ll all be in trouble. It’s safer to find somewhere else.”
“No,” Tomura says. You look askance at him, and you’re not the only one. “Fuck them. They don’t own this town. Why should you have to leave? Let’s just kill them and then we can all sleep.”
“Um –” You feel like you should say something about this turn of events. Like that murdering however many people are in this town’s CRC branch is a bad idea if you’re trying to keep a low profile. “Shouldn’t somebody scout and find out what we’re looking at as far as numbers go? I can do that.”
“Yes,” Compress agrees. “We should plan –”
“We don’t need a plan.” Tomura cuts him off. “We’ll tell them we’re there to steal their shit. When they attack us, we’ll kill them, and then we’ll steal their shit. Easy.”
“Like an item drop,” Spinner says, and cracks a weak, angry grin. “Fine with me. Let’s go.”
The CRC branch headquarters isn’t hard to spot. The League strategizes quietly on the walk there, trying to decide who will attack what, and you walk in the middle, unsure of what to do. They’ll tell you what to do, right? Somebody will. It’s not like you can fight. Sure enough, Tomura drops back from a conversation with Twice and falls into step beside you. “I want you to stay out front.”
“Still keeping your precious Saintess’s hands clean?” Dabi sneers. “She’s on the run. It’s too late.”
“We need a lookout,” Tomura says. “If it looks like backup’s coming, we need to know. And if anybody gets out –”
“Not likely!” Toga trills.
“Someone needs to stop them,” Tomura continues. “Can you do that?”
“Yes.” You answer before you’ve really thought about it, but you won’t be any use in the main fight, and if they’re doing this, you need to help. Besides, how hard could it be?
The answer to the question “how hard could it be” turns out to be “pretty hard”. The League is outnumbered, unable to use Dabi’s wide-range quirk without potentially burning themselves alive, and Toga and Spinner are the only ones who actually use weapons in hand-to-hand combat. The front door locks from the inside, and while you know Compress locked it on the League’s way in, it must not be very hard to unlock, because there are multiple people trying to open it and escape. You throw your weight back against it to keep it shut, but you’re not going to be able to forever. “Um –”
“Hey, where are you guys going?” Toga’s voice is syrupy sweet and all the more terrifying for it. You hear an agonized shriek. “Come back in! We were just starting to have fun!”
The pressure on the door lessens significantly, but a moment later, there’s a crash, followed by someone in a creepy mask diving through a window and sprawling out on the ground in front of you. This is your job to deal with, but you don’t have a weapon. A quick check of your surroundings reveals an umbrella stand by the door. You knock it over, spilling the umbrellas, then pick up the stand. The CRC member is on their hands and knees, struggling to rise, and you deliver a sharp strike to their kidneys with the base of the stand.
You knew what you were aiming at. You know it hurts. The CRC member shrieks, and your stomach turns. “Stay down.”
Toga vaults through the window and lands on the ground, graceful like a cat. “Thanks for grabbing him,” she says. She stabs one of her syringes into the man’s leg and his body jerks as the device on her back begins to suction blood at a rate that collapses his veins. “We’re almost done in there. It’s too bad you couldn’t see Tomura-kun fight. You’d like it when he gets angry.”
You don’t know that you would. You don’t feel very good about what you just did. You’re not sorry that you hit the guy who tried to escape, and you’re not sorry that the members of a hate group are getting what’s coming to them, but – you don’t really know why you feel weird. You just know it’s the kind of thing you should keep to yourself.
The front door opens just as Toga’s finished draining blood from the man you hit. Dabi sticks his head out. “Grab that guy and get in here. We’re searching the place.”
Toga grabs the dead man’s feet, leaving you to grab beneath his shoulders, and the two of you drag him up the front steps and into the house. You’re used to handling the injured. You’re not used to dead bodies. You’re more than a little relieved to set him down, and you don’t feel entirely better until Tomura’s touched him and turned the corpse to dust. “We’re searching in groups, in case anybody hid,” he informs you and Toga. “Toga, you’re with Compress. And you’re with me and Spinner.”
You nod and follow them deeper into the house – Tomura in front of you, Spinner behind. “Did either of you get hurt?” you ask. There’s an awkward silence. “I need to know.”
“I got clipped. It’s not that bad,” Spinner says. You glance back and see him grimacing, and you switch spots with him in line without another word. “It’s not that bad. Seriously.”
“I’ll look at it once we’re done,” you decide. You address Tomura next. “What about you?”
“They couldn’t touch me.” Tomura disintegrates the first door the three of you come to and peers inside. “Empty. Let’s search.”
There’s not much in the room. Some antiques, but those are easier to trace than regular stolen goods and would be harder to sell. There’s a bookshelf, and a case full of ancient bladed weapons, which Spinner promptly breaks and begins to sort through. “These are old but good,” he says. “They did a better job with steel back in the day. Here.”
He’s holding out a knife to you. “You should have a real weapon. I don’t know how you stopped the guy who got out –”
“Umbrella stand.”
Spinner looks honestly taken aback. “A knife’s faster,” he says. “Take it.”
“Thanks,” you say. You’ll have to think of somewhere to put it later. It won’t be much use in your backpack.
Out of everybody who’s searching the house, you and Toga come up with the items with the highest resale value – Toga has a good eye for clothing, and having recently hidden your own jewelry from Compress, you have a good idea of where to look for concealed objects. Rather than helping with the search, Dabi’s gone looking for food, but in spite of the fact that he’s found whatever the CRC was planning to eat at the conclusion of their meeting, he’s still in a mood. “Why are we doing this? Wasn’t the point of the supply caches so we wouldn’t have to?”
“This wasn’t just for food and a place to sleep. It was about taking out the trash, same as dealing with Overhaul was.” Tomura starts picking through the food. You sit Spinner down to check out his injury. “There’s no place for them in the new world.”
Dabi makes a derisive noise, and nobody else is paying attention – but you’re right up close with Spinner, and you see his eyes widen. “The new world?” he asks quietly. “I’ve never heard him say that before. Do you know what he’s talking about?”
You nod. “You should ask him.”
“No, you should tell me so I can decide if I want to know. I – ow.”
“Sorry,” you say. “Do you know what this is from?”
“It was a pitchfork. Classic, right?” Spinner scowls, grimaces, while you explore the wounds. They’re deep, but not deep enough to do real muscle or organ damage. Infection will be the biggest risk – like it usually is. “How’d you know about the CRC? Most people who have quirks like mine – don’t.”
“Most big cities have CRC offshoots. Yokohama’s no different.” You clean out the wounds one at a time, doing your best to be gentle. “They have neighborhoods they hang out in, and the clinic I worked in sat near the border of one. People they attack come to the clinic for treatment. Or hide in there to get away. The CRC are, um –”
“Top-flight assholes.”
“Yeah.” You pick up some bandages and a roll of medical tape. “I shouldn’t have talked over you earlier. I just didn’t want you to have to explain.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad somebody else knew what I was talking about.” Spinner gives you a curious look. “How are you doing with all this?”
“This?”
“Being on the run.”
“Oh,” you say. “It’s fine.”
It’s been three weeks since you took a leave of absence from work and ran for the hills, and since then, life’s been broken up into long periods of travel and short periods of stillness. Kurogiri was captured by the heroes sometime after the temporary alliance with Overhaul was made, which means that overland travel at night is the only way the seven of you can get anywhere without getting in trouble. You aren’t doing hardly any fighting, and your medical skills are only needed when somebody needs patching up, but you’re keeping busy in spite of that. You’re still the only person the police aren’t looking for.
Scouting, supply runs, running interference if the daytime hiding place is at risk of being found – all of it falls to you. You’re supposed to be a medic. On a day-to-day basis, you’re logistical support. It’s exhausting, but not particularly dangerous. It feels more like a hard day’s work than anything else, and at the end of it, you’re with Tomura, which is the important thing. You’re there to remind him that a new world can be built after the old one’s been destroyed, to convince him that the new world is something he wants to be a part of. That’s your job now, more than anything else.
Tomura comes over to check on you and Spinner. “How bad is it?”
“Painful, but they aren’t deep,” you report. “I’ll monitor them, but the infection risk is low so long as we all stay clean.”
“That’s the hard part,” Spinner mumbles. “It’s too cold to take baths outside.”
“Saintess said no more baths outside anyway,” Twice calls from the other side of the room. “Since some people can’t swim.”
“You can say Tomura-kun,” Toga says. “It’s okay.”
The realization that Tomura can’t swim was an unpleasant one for everybody, since it necessitated yanking him out of an icy pond while avoiding contact with his quirk. Twice and his clones came in handy, and nothing bad happened other than embarrassment on Tomura’s part, but it’s still not an experience you want anybody to repeat. “We’ll find ways. Worst comes to worst, I’ll rent us a motel room.”
“One motel room for all of us? You’d be doing the heroes’ work for them,” Dabi sneers. “If I have to sleep in a confined space with all of you, you’ll be dead by dawn.”
“Fine. The roof of the hypothetical motel room is all yours.”
Tomura looks irritated. “He’s this close to being more trouble than he’s worth,” he says in a low voice. “We could cut him loose without the risk he’d turn us in. He hates heroes as much as I do.”
“Yeah, but he’s our only ranged attack,” Spinner says practically. “I say stick it out.”
Tomura glances at you. You hate it when he does that on questions about strategy. “Keep him,” you agree. “He’s all talk.”
Tomura nods, still dissatisfied. Spinner looks a little nervous about it, but you aren’t – it’ll dissipate, like most of Tomura’s bad moods do sooner or later. He’s moody, but not volatile. “Do you want food?” he asks abruptly. You nod. After a second, so does Spinner, and Tomura gets up and walks away.
“Is he really getting food for us?” Spinner asks. You nod again. “And you’re sure about the new world thing. It’s not going to piss him off if I ask?”
You shake your head. Tomura mentioned Spinner specifically as someone you should talk about it with, but you think the idea itself should come from Tomura. The mission all of you are on is Tomura’s dream, really – you’re just trying to make sure it doesn’t kill him.
Tomura comes back with some of the food that Dabi scavenged, passes it out, and sits down next to you to eat. Spinner waits until Tomura’s mouth is full before he asks. “So, uh – you mentioned a new world. What’s that about?”
“Ask her.”
“No.” You glare at Tomura. “I’m your sidekick. It’s your idea. Tell him like you told me.”
“I’m not telling him like that,” Tomura says, and you elbow him, exasperated. He’s smirking slightly behind the hand as he addresses Spinner. “The old world has to be destroyed. Once it’s gone there’s a blank slate. And you –”
You elbow him again. “We get to decide what it should be like,” Tomura corrects himself. “Mainly her. And the two of you should talk about it, because you have ideas, too. Right?”
“Uh –”
“Anti-discrimination laws,” you suggest. Tomura snorts. “Come on. Anarchy isn’t sustainable long-term. A new world won’t automatically be better than the old one. If we don’t want it to be worse, we have to make sure it isn’t.”
“If you say so.” Tomura wolfs down his last few bites of food, then lies down, stretching out with his head in your lap. “I’m done planning for today.”
You can tell Spinner doesn’t like seeing Tomura call it quits when there are things to do. You make eye contact with him and try to bridge the gap. “You wouldn’t have checked out from the world if you thought it was a good place to be. Tell me what’s wrong with it.”
You and Spinner talk a bit while Tomura dozes, but things are winding down, and eventually the League barricades the front door, shuts the windows, and retreats into two of the back rooms to sleep. Tomura stirs when everyone else leaves, but when you try to get up, he won’t let you. “We can’t sleep out here,” you remind him.
Tenko kisses you. “Who said anything about sleeping?”
“Tenko –”
He cuts you off with another kiss, one hand sliding inside your jacket, the other dipping into the pocket where you keep his gloves. Tenko’s hair is getting long. You weave your fingers through it as he puts on the gloves, trying to ground yourself, to find a second of calm. You know there won’t be any once Tenko gets his gloves on.
In retrospect, having sex with Tenko for the first time the night before you went on the run might not have been the best idea, because Tenko’s been taking advantage of every second where the others are looking away ever since. In some ways it’s hot. You’ve never had a boyfriend who’s this handsy with you, this addicted to you, and the fact that Tenko barely cares about being caught in the middle of something makes it even better. But as hot as it is, you’re not sure about doing whatever Tenko’s got in mind in a place where at least two dozen people just died.
You don’t even know what he’s got in mind. “Tenko,” you mumble as his lips press against your neck. He bites down slightly and you shiver. “What are you doing?”
“Give me a second.” He’s leaving marks. One at the side of your mouth, one down against your shoulder, and you feel almost uncomfortably hot at the idea that it’ll all be visible without your veil. “Don’t rush me.”
You’re not going to rush him, but your discomfort is building, and if you don��t do something soon, it’ll be too late. You plant your hand on Tenko’s chest and push him back, crawling over him to press your lips against his. You know Tenko likes it when you show you want him, and it’s not hard for you to do. It’s not the idea of hooking up right now that bothers you – more the venue, and you find yourself caring less and less about it with every second that passes. Something is wrong with you.
Knowing that doesn’t stop you from straddling Tenko’s lap, grinding against him. There are multiple layers of clothing between you, but you know he’s getting hard, and you can pretend that the heat between your legs is the result of his touch rather than simple friction. Tenko’s kisses are eager and messy. His hands slide beneath your shirt, up from your waist to your breasts – but your bra is in the way. He taps it impatiently and speaks without pulling away. “I hate this thing.”
“I taught you how to unhook it.”
“Still.” In fairness to Tenko, you’re wearing a front-fastening bra. “I’m banning these in the new world.”
“You don’t get to ban stuff in the new world unless you’re planning to be in it,” you say, and your heart leaps when he doesn’t argue. Then you think about it. “Hate groups, heroes, and bras. That’s really what you want to get rid of?”
“I’ll think of other stuff,” Tenko says, unconcerned. He unfastens your bra, then runs his gloved fingers along the underside of your breasts. One of your nipples is captured between his thumb and forefinger, and he tugs and pinches lightly at it, making you squirm. “This is a good start.”
You hate it when he does this. You hate how much you like it. The friction between your legs provides the only relief, so you grind further into Tenko’s lap, looking for more. “Stop,” Tenko says, an edge to his voice. “Don’t do that if we can’t –”
“Who said we can’t?” You made one last addition to your med kit before you left, hidden in an inside pocket. You slide your backpack off your shoulders, reach inside, and produce one of several condoms. Tenko’s eyes widen. “What do you think?”
He slides his hands out from under your shirt to pull at your leggings and underwear. You decide that counts as a yes. Getting out of your clothes is a pain – your boots have to come off, followed by your leggings, followed by your underwear. Your boring underwear, according to Toga when she helped you pack. A thought crosses your mind, and like your thoughts usually do when you and Tenko are together, it comes out of your mouth. “Do you think my underwear is boring?”
“I think it’s in the way.”
You weren’t sure there was a right answer, but that counts. You kiss Tenko and work on unbuttoning his pants. It’s much less of a production for him, and once his cock is free, you can’t resist taking him in hand for a few strokes. Tenko’s body tenses in response, and you watch as his red eyes dilate. He picks up the condom on his own this time, putting it on with sharp, frantic movements, and as soon as it’s in place, you shift forward, lining up and sinking down onto his cock.
All the air leaves your lungs, and Tenko’s breath hisses out from between his teeth as you settle fully into his lap. “You didn’t give me a second,” he mumbles, his voice strained. A questioning sound is all you can manage in response. “I was going to eat you out.”
Your stomach ties itself in a knot instantly. You shift your weight, drawing your attention to the stretch and pressure of Tenko’s cock inside you instead of on what he just said – or maybe you’re trying to get him to stop talking. You’re not sure which. Either, way, it doesn’t work. “We haven’t done that yet,” he continues. Riding him isn’t shutting him up. You try kissing instead, but leaning forward to do it leads to an unsustainable change in pace, one that leaves you gasping. “I like how you taste.”
Tenko’s hands are on your hips, holding on with an iron grip. You were trying to set a faster pace, but his hold on you forces you to slow down, prolonging the slide of his cock against the most sensitive spots inside you and making you shudder. You wish you’d taken off more of your clothes. You feel hot and shaky all over and somehow even more out of control than you did when you were underneath him the first time. Tenko’s eyes are wide, pupils dilated so far that his irises are noting more than a thin red rim. His hips lift slowly beneath you as his hand leaves your hip to wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you down for a kiss.
Tenko’s pace is slow and intense, almost agonizing. Your legs are trembling so badly that you couldn’t maintain a rhythm of your own if you wanted to. Tenko holds on even as his control deteroiorates, while he twitches beneath you and moans into the kiss. When you draw back to breathe, you find his eyes squeezed shut. A tear leaks from beneath one of his eyelids, and you stare for a moment in shock before leaning in to kiss it away.
From there you kiss the scar over his right eye, the one you’ve never asked about, just like you’ve never asked about the one on his mouth – the location of your next kiss, once you’ve decided against kissing the birthmark on the other side. Tenko sucks down a breath, mumbles your name. Then: “I love you,” he says. Your stomach twists again, this time with anxiety. It doesn’t make a difference to Tenko – he moans and thrusts sharply upwards. Your body shifts independent of your mind, making sure his cock hits the right spot. “Fuck. I can’t – I love you –”
Whatever unspoken rule there is against saying I love you during sex, Tenko’s clearly never heard of it, and seeing and feeling him fall apart between your legs sends you over the edge in a few seconds more. For a moment, your mind goes totally blank, and in the absence of thought or restraint, the worlds almost slip out of your mouth, trailing after his name. “Tenko. Tenko –”
I love you. The weight of it keeps you silent. But only just.
Tenko doesn’t comment on the fact that you haven’t said it back. He never does, which is a relief. You’ve shown that you love him, and you’ll show it again, so it doesn’t need to be said. What does have to be said is the same thing you said last time. “We can’t sleep like this.”
“I know.” The sulky note in his voice almost makes you laugh.
By the time the two of you retreat to the back rooms, some of your anxiety’s worn off, and like always, you feel better once Tenko’s asleep next to you. You have him. All For One can’t take him away from you. He belongs to you, and you’ll keep him with you, through the end of the world and into the new one. The thought comforts you, but it’s not comforting enough to fall asleep on. You’re awake most of the night, like you have been for months.
The League of Villains is awake and in motion before dawn, heading towards Kurogiri’s last pre-capture coordinates. You’re not sure what’s waiting there. Tomura isn’t sure, either – just that it’s something his master left for him, some power that’s supposed to help him reach his goal. Dabi’s theory is that it’s some kind of super-Nomu, while Spinner thinks it’s a weapon. “What kind of weapon?” Twice asks. “Like a sword?”
“No, like a really big gun.”
The idea of Tomura with a really big gun is inexplicably entertaining to you. You struggle to muffle your laughter. “My quirk is better than a gun,” Tomura says. “If it’s a gun, Spinner, it’s yours.”
“Shouldn’t it be mine?” you ask. Tomura looks askance at you. “I don’t have a quirk or a real weapon. And I’m an okay shot.”
“In Call of Duty,” Tomura says. Spinner wheezes. “It’s a game.”
“We should get you a gun,” Toga decides. “Those creepy yakuza guys had one, and they had quirks. You should definitely have one, because you don’t.”
“A gun or a quirk?”
“Both,” Dabi says. He stops walking, and you walk directly into him. “Did you feel that?”
“Feel what?” Twice asks, and makes a fart joke that has Toga and Spinner groaning. “I gotta tell you, Dabi, if you can feel them –”
“There it is again,” Dabi says. He twists around to look at you. This time, you picked up on it, and so did Tomura. “What is that?”
“If I knew I’d say it,” Tomura snaps. “Sensei didn’t tell me.”
“You should have asked. If you had asked, then we wouldn’t be –” Dabi breaks off as the vibration strikes a third time, hard enough to make all of you stagger. A plume of dust rises from between the hills ahead of you. “What the hell is that?”
Not a hill. It’s not a hill. What you thought was a hill is the curved back of some giant thing, and now it’s straightening up, getting to its feet. It rears up, taller than you and everybody else by orders of magnitude, and you see that it’s human-shaped. Its features are craggy, like it’s been carved inexpertly from rough stone. Looking at it, it’s hard not to imagine that this is what Kurogiri was looking for, and it’s impossible for you to imagine that he was unable to find it – or that the heroes didn’t find it, too. All For One didn’t leave Tomura a weapon. He left him a mountain that walks.
The mountain-that-walks steps towards the group of you, rattling your bones on every step. “Master’s heir,” it says, in a voice that sounds like rocks shattering. “Where is he?”
Tomura steps forward. “Here.”
For a few moments they’re simply looking at each other, Tomura looking up and the mountain staring down. Then the mountain’s face distorts, an anguished howl issuing from a mouth filled with jagged teeth. “No! He’s too weak!”
“What?” Tomura snarls. The giant is clawing up dirt and stone from the ground, looking for something. For a weapon. Your blood turns to ice, but Tomura steps forward. “If you think you can just –”
“Die!”
The giant hurls a massive chunk of stone at Tomura, and you throw yourself forward, too, hitting Tomura in the back and knocking you both to the ground. You land hard, biting the inside of your cheek as the rock crashes down in the same spot as Tomura was standing a split second ago. The giant wails again, tears running down its face. “Weak,” it howls. “Too weak. Master, how could you do this to me?”
You’ve got seconds before it throws something else. It’s already looking around for another weapon. You drag Tomura to his feet and pull him away, ducking around the boulder and back to the League. “We need to get out of here.”
“Right now!” Spinner looks just as scared as you feel, which makes two of you who are reacting normally. “If we split up and run –”
“Outrun that thing? No way.” Dabi’s face splits into an eerie grin. “We’ll fight, right, Shigaraki? Or is that thing right about you?”
Tomura yanks his arm free of your grip and takes off toward the giant, throwing an order over his shoulder. “Get her out of here, Spinner!”
It makes sense. Spinner’s quirk doesn’t equip him well for a fight like this, just like your lack of a quirk doesn’t equip you at all. Spinner doesn’t look insulted at being stuck on girlfriend protection duty, and you’re not opposed to getting out of here – except you’ve got a job to do. “I’m the medic. I can’t leave!”
“If they get hit, there will be nothing to fix,” Compress says shortly. Your stomach turns at the thought of Tomura being struck by a flying boulder or getting crushed in the giant’s fist until he’s nothing more than a bloody smear in the dirt. “And he won’t be effective if he’s worried about your safety. Get clear.”
A wave of blue fire fills your vision, then dissipates. Toga’s voice is bordering on a shriek. “That didn’t work, Dabi!”
If Dabi’s flames aren’t having any effect, this opponent’s too dangerous for the League. Tomura’s the only one who could take the giant down, but he’d have to get close. There’s a horrible crash from somewhere ahead of you, and Spinner grabs your arm. “Let’s go!”
You balk again, agonized, but then you hear a voice – one that’s not the giant’s, not Tomura’s, not Dabi’s. Someone else. “How are you, Shigaraki? Are you well?”
“Sure,” Tomura says, tense and frustrated, “but I might be mincemeat in a second.”
“Then let’s have a chat, shall we? Stand by.”
Stand by for what? The giant’s coming. You can’t stand by. You all have to run. You try to say that, but suddenly a foul taste pervades your mouth, and it fills with something slimy, something that makes you cough and gag. Everyone else is doing the same. You hear Dabi curse, the words muffled and then choked off entirely. Your own body contorts in discomfort, and when you force your eyes open, you see black slime emerging from the others’ mouths, engulfing them entirely, engulfing you. It obscures your vision, and when you open your eyes, you’re somewhere else entirely.
It’s some kind of warp quirk, and overall, you much prefer Kurogiri’s. You glance around at your surroundings, just like the others are doing. They’re completely unfamiliar – an enormous room, high-ceilinged and dark. The only light comes from the tall capsules filled with bodies suspended in glowing liquid on either side of you, and from a bright screen up ahead. In front of the screen sits a man.
The location looks unfamiliar. But as you cough and struggle to clear the taste of the sludge from your mouth, you catch a familiar smell. Rot. Like a morgue, and suddenly you know exactly where you are. It was even darker last time, but the smell is unmistakable. This is where you met All For One.
All For One’s not here, and you have a feeling about who the man is, a feeling that’s confirmed a moment later when Tomura speaks. “Doctor,” he says. “It’s been a while.”
“Indeed. I always intended to reach out, but I wanted to see how you would do on your own. It’s been –” the doctor makes a displeased sound. “Underwhelming.”
“What part of taking down the Shie Hassaikai is underwhelming?”
“The fact that it wasn’t your doing. The heroes did the lion’s share of the work,” the doctor says, “while the lot of you merely swooped in, crippled Overhaul after he had already been captured, and kidnapped a child – only to return her. If you’d held onto her, I would have reached out sooner. That was quite a quirk you let slip through your fingers.”
“That wasn’t him. That was me,” you say. You’re not about to let Tomura take the fall for something you did, particularly when you aren’t at all sorry you did it. “If you’d reached out and let us know you were interested, I might have held onto her.”
You wouldn’t have, but there’s no need for the doctor to know that. He rises from his chair and turns to face you. “And who were you to make the determination to let her go?”
“I’m the one who’d have wound up taking care of her,” you say. You already didn’t like the doctor – the fact that he refused to care for Tomura when he was hurt leaves a bad taste in your mouth – but you like him even less now. You keep yourself conciliatory with an effort. “We didn’t have the capability to contain her quirk long-term. It was too much of a risk.”
“And you allow your underlings to make those decisions, Shigaraki?”
“I trust my comrades’ judgement,” Tomura says. “The League of Villains is functional whether we’re working as a group or not.”
“It’s quite a group,” the doctor says. “Let’s see – one teenage girl, one societal reject, two petty criminals, a serial arsonist and murderer, and a civilian to round things out.”
“You went with ‘civilian’ for Saintess? Really?” Dabi never says your codename with anything less than scorn. “Try quirkless next time. Then you’d be eight for eight.”
Now that you think about it, it’s weird that he targeted your lack of a record, when anyone else would agree that your quirklessness is the larger problem. The doctor ignores Dabi. “Still, it’s a team worth paying attention to – and perhaps worth helping, depending on what you intend to use them for. What do you intend to do with them?”
“Destroy All Might.”
The doctor tsks. “Those are your master’s words, and you aren’t him. Try again.”
“Destroy hero society.”
Tomura sounds like he’s taking a test. Taking one, and failing it. The doctor tsks again. “Close, but not quite.”
“Destroy everything,” Tomura snaps, and the doctor smiles. That smile cements your dislike for him for good. “Everything I see, I hate. There’s nothing about this world that’s worth saving, so I’ll destroy it all at once.”
Toga makes a skeptical sound. “What about me, Tomura? Are you even going to destroy the things I like?”
“There’s always room for my comrades’ wishes,” Tomura says. Toga grins. Tomura glances sideways, meets your eyes, then faces the doctor again. “My comrades can’t live as they want in this world. I can’t live in it at all. So I’ll tear it down, brick by brick, atom by atom, until there’s nothing left in our way.”
“Anarchy, then?”
“Anarchy’s not sustainable,” Tomura says, and you find yourself hiding a smile under your veil. “What happens next isn’t my problem. My comrades can choose what to do.”
“What if I don’t want to do anything?” Twice asks. “I want to drink coffee and eat sushi.”
“Ugh,” Dabi mutters. “I don’t give a shit about any of it. As long as nobody stops me from doing what I need to do.”
Every so often, Dabi alludes to some mission of his, trying to lure one of you into asking so he can tell you to fuck off. You’ve all learned to ignore it by now. “As long as the things I like are here, I don’t care what happens,” Toga says. “Everybody else can choose.”
It’s quiet after that, other than Twice musing out loud about whether sushi and coffee go together even slightly. The doctor raises his eyebrows. “Three of you are awfully quiet. Compress, Spinner, Saintess – what plans do you have after you’ve helped Shigaraki destroy everything?”
“I’m keeping my options open,” Compress says. “A true performer waits for the right moment to claim the spotlight.”
The doctor lets that go, probably because Compress is a real adult and not somebody he feels like kicking around. He faces you and Spinner. “The shut-in and the civilian. What will you do?”
Spinner opens his mouth and you cut him off. “I’ll do what Shigaraki asks of me,” you say. It’s not a lie – he’s asked you to build the new world, and you’ll do it as long as he agrees to live in it with you. “I’m his sidekick. That’s my job.”
“I’m not a sidekick, but I’ll do what Shigaraki asks, too.” Spinner’s smart enough not to bring up Tomura’s instructions about the new world. “I don’t have my own vision. I’ll follow the person with the best one.”
“And you believe Shigaraki’s vision is the best one.”
“Yes.” Spinner doesn’t hesitate.
“Remarkable,” the doctor says, but he doesn’t follow up with Spinner. Instead he turns to you. “I have no need to question your loyalty to Shigaraki. You had more to lose in following him than the others.”
More to lose, sure – but losing him would have been worse. The doctor returns his attention to Tomura. “It seems you do have some degree of vision, as warped and simplistic as it may be. And you are capable of inspiring some degree of loyalty. The situation is not as dire as I originally thought.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s still rather dire,” the doctor says, like Tomura’s acceptance of the backhanded compliment wasn’t the most sarcastic thing you’ve ever heard him say. “Still, I’ll assist you on a limited basis for now.”
“How limited?”
“Some financial support. You’re still lacking in that department. That being said,” the doctor continues, “I can promise significantly more should you convince Gigantomachia to submit to you. He was your master’s most powerful servant. If he accepts your rule, I’ll throw my considerable resources behind you.”
“So we have to fight him until he quits?” Dabi sounds skeptical. “Fuck that. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
“Like what?” Spinner asks.
“There’s a potential ally I’m cultivating. If I’m right about him, it’ll be a coup for us. Way more than converting some random civilian.”
Tomura’s shoulders tense, and you pray he’ll let it slide – and he does. “I look forward to meeting them.”
“While you’re doing that, perhaps you can assist with the testing of a Nomu,” the doctor says. So he’s the one who makes them. You weren’t sure. “I’ve created a class of high-tiers, far more powerful than the Nomu Shigaraki deployed at USJ, and they’re ready to be tested against powerful heroes.”
Dabi looks like he’s about to tell the doctor to fuck off. Then he tilts his head, considering. “How powerful of a hero do you want?”
“As powerful as you can secure. If I’m correct about the strength of the high-tiers, lesser heroes will fall before them easily.”
Dabi cracks a nasty grin. “I’ve got somebody in mind.”
“Excellent. As for the rest of you –” the doctor snaps his fingers, and the smallest Nomu you’ve ever seen scurries forward. It’s carrying a box, and when you look closer, you see that it contains earpieces. “Take these. This is how I’ll contact you from now on.”
You each step forward to take them. “This is really it?” Twice asks, not all that quietly. “We just have to get the big guy to bow down?”
“It won’t be easy,” the doctor says. “His strength and stamina are unmatched. I’ll be very impressed if any of you survive.”
Spinner looks worried. You’re worried, too. Tomura isn’t. “Thanks for the tutorial,” he says to the doctor. You’re last in line to collect your earpiece, and you tuck it into your ear. “Send us back. I feel motivated all of a sudden.”
The doctor signals something – another tiny Nomu – and black sludge begins to erupt from the others’ mouths. The others’ mouths, but not yours. You look to Tomura, a surge of panic rising within you, and Tomura reaches out, his fingers closing on your sleeve for a split second before the warp tears him away. He’s gone. They’re all gone, and you’re alone in here. With the bodies floating in the glass capsules and the two tiny Nomus and the doctor.
You have the knife Spinner gave you strapped to your back, concealed with your backpack, but you don’t know the doctor’s quirk, and you still can’t fight. The only way out of here is if the doctor decides to let you go. “Sir, please –”
“Manners for me, too? I’m glad to see that someone in Shigaraki’s gang of misfits respects common courtesy.” The doctor smiles. It’s not quite a leer, but it’s enough to make your skin crawl. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’ll send you back to your master in short order. I just need to run some tests.”
“Tests?” you say uncertainly. “What kind of tests?”
“Nothing too painful, or too invasive.” The doctor beckons you closer, and you take a few hesitant steps. You don’t want him to get mad at you. This, whatever it is, will be worse if he’s angry. “All For One had a hunch when he met you, and I’d like to confirm it. You want to be as useful to your master as possible, don’t you?”
You don’t like that he keeps calling Tenko your master, but you do want to be as useful as possible. You nod. “Excellent. Hold out your hand,” the doctor says. You do, at which point he jabs a needle attached to an electrode into the meat of your palm. You yelp in pain. “Oh, hush. Has anyone explained the theory of quirk latency to you?”
Even with your palm stinging, even in fear for your life, you can’t help rolling your eyes. “Yes.”
“And you seem not to set much store by it.”
“It’s a lie,” you say. “Something they tell quirkless children so we’ll stay hopeful instead of recognizing how the world really sees us.”
“Explain it for me.”
The needle in your palm is buzzing. It feels like there are insects crawling beneath your skin. “Quirk latency theory suggests that the majority of people who appear to be quirkless are not. Instead, they possess latent quirks – quirks that don’t manifest for the first time unless certain conditions are met, and if those conditions are never met, the person in question appears to be quirkless for their entire life.”
The doctor yanks the sensor out of your palm. “Give an example.”
“If someone’s quirk is driving stick-shift perfectly,” you say. It’s the example you heard in school. It was stupid then and it’s stupid now. “It’ll never show up if they never get behind the wheel of a stick-shift car.”
“Sounds plausible, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter,” you say. The doctor wraps a blood pressure cuff around your arm. At least, it looks like a blood pressure cuff – when it constricts, it jabs dozens of needles into your bicep, and you whimper in pain. You can slice into your skin without blinking, but it’s different when someone else is in control. “If it never manifests and you never know what it is, it’s the same as not having one at all.”
“Mm. I suppose.” The blood pressure cuff squeezes your arm agonizingly tight, then beeps and releases. The doctor peels it away. “Your decision to release the girl, while frustrating on a professional level, was the correct decision with regard to Shigaraki’s survival. Lift the veil.”
“Sir –”
“I know your face already. Lift it.”
You raise the edge and flip it back, at which point the doctor stuffs a thermometer into your mouth. That one doesn’t stab you, but he jabs a needle into your lower lip a second later. A mask lowers over your eyes, ringed in tiny needles just like the cuff, and all the needles deliver a low, buzzing shock. The thermometer in your mouth beeps, but the doctor doesn’t remove it. “It’s intriguing that Shigaraki selected you, of all people, to serve as his sidekick – but far more intriguing is the fact that you accepted the role. All For One had charisma. The strength of his character drew others to him, and his wealth and benevolence certainly didn’t hurt. Shigaraki Tomura possesses nothing of the kind. How on earth did he entice a civilian away from what for all intents and purposes appeared to be a relatively normal, happy life?”
Not by being Shigaraki Tomura – and not just by being Shimura Tenko. You call him different names depending on who you’re with, but he’s the same person, the same man, regardless of whether you use the name given to him by his master or his father. The thermometer in your mouth beeps sharply, and the doctor extracts it in a hurry, followed by the needle in your lip. Then he lifts the eye mask away. Next he slaps electrodes onto your temples, the sides of your neck, your forehead, your chest – the same microneedles, the same electric shocks. You clench your jaw against the pain. You’re not going to make another sound.
Why are you letting this happen? The same reason you let Overhaul touch you, the same reason you didn’t give in to panic when All For One’s hand descended over your face. You’re doing it for Tenko, so you can stay with Tenko, so no one will try to take you away from him or take him away from you. When you think of it like that, it’s – not easy to survive, exactly. But it’s easier. Easy enough that the chorus of stings and shocks from the last set of electrodes don’t visibly break your composure.
It’s only once you’re free of electrodes and needles that you remember you were asked a question – and that you don’t remember what it was. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your question. Would you mind repeating it?”
“Don’t worry. You’ve answered it,” the doctor says. “And All For One’s hunch about you was correct. You’re a victim of quirk latency. You are not quirkless.”
You look blankly at him. Your skin is stinging in a dozen places, and there’s an unpleasant buzz in your nerves. “The tests I just conducted were tests of the most common locations of quirk factors,” the doctor says. “The hands, the eyes, the mouth and nose – when receiving certain types of stimulation, quirk factors produce an abnormal response. I was unable to identify a discrete quirk factor for you, which indicates that your quirk is not vulnerable to external attack. Overhaul, Shigaraki, Compress – remove their hands, and they’re useless. Your quirk factor, however, can’t be separated from your body so easily.”
He's looking at you, clearly pleased with himself, clearly waiting for you to respond in kind. “I don’t have a quirk,” you say. Your instruments are wrong.”
“My instruments are never wrong,” the doctor says. “Neither is All For One. You have a quirk, my dear. It’s latent, and without a discrete quirk factor, we have few clues as to what it might be, but make no mistake, a quirk is present. You said you wish to be as useful to Shigaraki as possible. Imagine how much more useful you’d be with your quirk.”
“I don’t have a quirk.” You know you shouldn’t argue, that you should pretend to be happy or at least let it go, but you can’t. You’re quirkless. That’s it. That’s all you’ll ever be. “If I had an actual quirk factor, maybe I’d believe you. But those abnormal reactions – you jabbed needles into my face and shocked me. Of course my system acted up.”
“Your system reacted normally to the electric current. What indicated the presence of a quirk factor was something else. Don’t question me, my dear. This is my area of expertise.” The doctor’s smile is horrendously smug. “I’m tempted to keep you here, and send you back to Shigaraki once we’ve awakened your quirk –”
“No!”
You clamp your hands over your mouth too late to silence yourself, and the doctor continues speaking like you didn’t say a word. “But I’d prefer that Shigaraki stays focused on mastering Gigantomachia, rather than hunting me down to retrieve his favorite toy. I’ll send you back, but well away from the battlefield. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you before we’ve discovered your quirk.”
You know better by now than to argue about whether you have a quirk or not. You nod mutely, and since you have your mouth shut, the black sludge oozes from your nose instead. You squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the taste and the sensation to fade, and when you open y our eyes again, you’re on a wooded hillside somewhere in the middle of nowhere. There are clouds of dust rising in the distance, and in the midst of them, you can see Gigantomachia’s silhouette. Tenko’s already fighting him.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you take it out. Twice has been messaging you. A lot.
Twice: Saintess
Twice: hey Saintess
Twice: are y coming back or what
Twice: I k already had to make ten clones of Shigaraki to go get smashed because the real one can’t focus long enough to fight the big guy
Twice: sorry TWELVE clones
Twice: i won’t make any more fart jokes if you come back right now
Twice: WHERE R U HES GOING BERSERK
Damn it. You call Twice, praying he’s not up close and personal with Gigantomachia right now, and he picks up on the first ring. It’s colossally noisy on his end of the line and you find yourself having to shout. “Hey! Tell Tomura I’m fine and tell him to get his head back in the game!”
“Hey, you’re back! What took you so long? I – hey, boss, you might want to get back out there –”
“Make another clone,” Tomura snarls, and a moment later you hear his ragged breathing on the line. “What happened? Where are you?”
“I’m fine. He just wanted to talk. I’ll tell you about it the next time we have a second.” You speak quickly, calmly, even though the sound of Tomura’s voice and the fact that he’s worried about you are this close to making you burst into tears. “He dropped me off away from the battle so I wouldn’t get trampled. I’ll make my way back. Just focus.”
“Drop a pin. Spinner and Toga will come get you.” Tomura swears into the phone a moment later. “It’s not fucking fine. He can’t just –”
“Just focus,” you say again. “We’ll talk. Be careful.”
“I love you.”
Your heart twists. “Be careful,” you say again, and you hang up the phone.
You drop the pin as requested, then use your phone camera to check out the damage the doctor’s tests did. It doesn’t look good. Your lower lip is swollen, and you’ve got a rash around your eyes and your forehead and your neck — everywhere a microneedle went in. Your eyes are puffy, maybe from the needles, maybe from wanting to cry this much and holding it in. But maybe you shouldn’t hold it in. You’ve got some time before Spinner and Toga get to you. Maybe you should just get it out of your system. You sit down on a rock, bury your face in your hands, and cry, but the longer you cry, the worse it gets. A quirk. The doctor says you have a stupid quirk, and your whole life –
You can’t think about it. You can’t stop. You have to stop right now before anybody sees, and with no one else to turn to, you find yourself turning to a coping mechanism you thought you gave up on. It was nice of Spinner to give you the knife. You know for a fact you weren’t supposed to use it for this.
But it works. You wouldn’t do it if it didn’t, and by the time Spinner and Toga come to get you, you’re neatly bandaged under your shirt and sitting behind your veil with dry eyes. “Where have you been?” Toga asks. “Tomura-kun was really upset.”
“The doctor and I needed to talk about something. It’s all okay now.” Your voice sounds perfectly steady, and you’re perfectly calm. The doctor is wrong. You don’t have a quirk. You’ve never had a quirk, and since you’ve never had a quirk, your entire life hasn’t been built around dealing with something that was never even true. “How’s Tomura?”
“If we didn’t have Twice, we’d be screwed,” Spinner says. He looks grim. “Let’s go. Somebody’s probably going to be hurt by the time we get there.”
“What did the doctor want to talk to you about?” Toga asks as the three of you hike through the woods. “Something fun?”
“Not really.” You shrug. “He just wanted to give me a hard time about letting Eri go.”
It’s a safe lie, you think. One the others will buy, if Toga’s reminiscing about how cute Eri is are anything to go by. The real question will be if you can sell that same lie to Tenko. You think you probably can. You’ve lied to him directly before. And you’ve lied by omission, every time he tells you he loves you and you don’t say it back.
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