god i usually love female characters that are kinda bitchy but the one in this series im watching is GRATING on my fucking nerves jfc...

Idk where else to go with this, I binged Rick and Morty last week and I'm dying under an avalanche of Thoughts. Morty CLEARLY seems a more arts/languages-leaning autistic as opposed to Rick's maths/sciences Autistic. (Toxic Morty was sculpting pots while Toxic Rick did experiments (his artsy side is something he keeps hidden/is ashamed of??)) And while not off the top of my head I noticed a few other instances following that example. This lead me to thinking "oh my gosh would Rick completely lose his mind if he saw Morty taking part in a school music group/rock band because Rick was in a band with his friends?? I mean my heart wants to see Rick screaming curses from the far side of a school gym (he was there for adventure purposes) after a rehearsal performance like "FUCK YEAH!!! Suck it BITCHES, " And then he gets Too Into Morty being into Rock and it becomes A Thing

yeah, good point about rick being a math/science autistic and morty being an arts/language autistic!! good catch on the pottery detail, too— you should make your own post about that!

tbh i think morty being an arts/language autistic is definitely one of the reasons i see so much of myself in him. i’ve always really wanted to ‘get’ math, but… alas lmao.

i’ve often thought of morty starting a band/going through a music phase, and how rick would react to that! similar to how all of rick’s original songs were about how ‘nothing matters’ and super depressing, i suspect all of morty’s original songs would have a theme.

good thoughts, though!! i could totally see that being a thing! i mean, there are multiple scenes where the boys listen to music and i’d love to see where it would overlap for them! especially since i bet morty’s ability to vocalize his feelings would be a lot more efficient than rick’s, i’d love to compare his lyricism to lyrics rick has written.

i wonder if incorporating music/arts into the show has the potential to be dynamic-shifting. for once, morty could be the one with more skill. i wonder if that would go over well with rick. i doubt he’d adjust easily.

i definitely think morty is more of a little math/science genius than he lets on. he presumably figures out how to disarm the nutrino bomb in an instant, his room is full of robots and space stuff, and he’s great at memorizing science facts he picks up here and there. we even have the scene in ‘a rick in king mortur’s mort’ where he lectures to the knights of the sun and illustrates his scientific reasoning on the white board!

i’ve always suspected that he’s a little science guy who just doesn’t get math that well, haha.

i hate you, i love you.

↳ gojou satoru/fem!reader

1/2 — stuck in a loop of frat parties and constant hookups, gojou finds a way to make you come into terms with your feelings by breaking both of your hearts along the way

genre. angst, smut, fwb, college au, 18+

tags/warnings. fratboy!gojou, baddie!reader, commitment issues, profanity, alcohol/intoxication, usage of drugs, smoking, explicit smut, ffm threesome, hate fucking, slapping, degradation, fellatio + cunnilingus, voyeurism, unprotected

notes. purely self-indulgent also bc so many requested for a college au? i donut like my writing for this one but here goes :) reblogs appreciated!

fic art -> masterlist -> next

8PM.

No, 9.

Or was it 10PM? Your eyes barely adjusted from the faint light that passed through your window. The blanket of stars adorning the dark skies confirmed that it was now nighttime and you realized that you had just woken up from a long afternoon nap since you came back from a 3-hour lecture of Psychology 201.

God, you hated college sometimes. A single day could drain the hell out of you even if you had to just sit there and listen to the professor talk about things that you probably should pay attention to had your mind not chosen to wander elsewhere beyond the four corners of the auditorium. To be fair, you were not to blame that your subconscious still lingered towards the ex that shaped you into becoming the woman that you were now. It had been awhile since you last got a glimpse of him in one of his football matches and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to think about him once in a while.

Luckily for you, it was a Friday night where all the fun usually happened. There were no morning classes to worry about the next day so you had all night to be surrounded by the company of your favorite people.

Your roommate had already returned to your dorm when you sat upright in bed, stretching your arms concurrent to your yawn. “What time’s it?” you inquired in a raspy voice before you raked your fingers through your hair.

“It’s ten-thirty,” was Mackenzie’s answer as soon as she sat on her side of the bed. Her dark brown hair was neatly tied into a ponytail that better suited her seraphic face.

Realizing the time, you rushed out of bed to head straight to your closet. “Shit. Ieri’s gonna kill me.”

You went through piles of clothes, recalling what outfit you’ve recently worn to ensure that you weren’t going to pick it for tonight. You somehow ended up with a butterfly top to match your flared pants, allotting yourself a 15-minute limit to do your make up. For the amount of times you’ve been into parties, this was child’s play.

Mackenzie’s curious eyes followed you while you changed your clothes in haste. For a good girl who prioritized her academics above all, it must be amusing for her to watch you. “You’re going there again?”

You hummed in response, now doing your eyeliner in front of a mirror. “You wanna come?” Quite certain you were that parties were not her scene but the hesitance that danced in her eyes made you wonder if she was finally going to give in. “Come on, Kenz. We’re juniors. Learn to have fun.”

By the time you were finishing your make up with a lipgloss, she then timidly brought up, “Is Gojou gonna be there?”

Satoru? You didn’t hold back at how fast you whipped your head to match her curious eyes. “Yeah, why?”

Of course, he was going to be there. It was his world. Let alone the fact that he actually lived in the frat house so his presence was to be expected because he was the goddamn vice president of their fraternity. You couldn’t even deny that some of the thirsty college girls would go there just to catch sight of him. On the other hand, what fed your curiosity was Mackenzie’s newfound interest towards the white-haired man. Since when was she intrigued about Satoru?

She wouldn’t exchange eye-contact but still opened her mouth to ask, “Nothing, um... You guys aren’t dating, right?”

Dating. You couldn’t exactly call it dating per se. College was a nest of fuck buddies and toxic relationships. The percentage of hookups were far exceeding more than those who were in committed relationships. Although you’ve known Satoru for a year now, you didn’t really consider heading to the commitment lane with the man. He probably had the same sentiments. After all, you two could hardly be seen together outside of parties.

So with a smirk, you crossed your arms and put on a front. “Kenz, it’s easier if you just say you like him.” Her shoulders became less tensed when you played it off with a smile. “You have bad taste and no, we’re not dating. I’d have him talk to you if you come to the party tonight, though.”

The apple of her cheeks enhanced her beautiful features after hearing your answer. “Next time, I guess. I have papers to work on and I just wanted to know more about him because he’s in my class and—”

“Yeah, I get it. Hot flirty guy that girls can’t help but have a crush on.” Frankly, you were tired of hearing it from almost all of the girls in the campus. Satoru Gojou was a household name. Tall, handsome, charming—they would often say that he was the very definition of eye-candy. To you, he was just him.

But who were you to refrain your roommate from being one of the many girls that have fallen for his irresistible charms?

“Is he not your type?” she then asked, laying in bed with elbows propped above her pillows as though she was ready to hear her bedtime story. “If I was friends with him, I’d probably be twice as attracted. I like it when he smiles.”

Right, you suppressed a snort. You somehow found it weird that she was crushing on him but the irritation rising in the back of your throat was unnecessary all the more.

“Can never be me.” Your response was a playful shrug as you spent a few more minutes talking about Gojou just to feed Kenzie’s interests. What’s his type? Does he have a girlfriend? Is he a player? You couldn’t escape the fusillade of questions without lying just to not shatter the daydreams that she was forming in her head.

Satoru was never an ideal boyfriend and it was the hard cold truth. He was irresponsible, immature, and incapable of handling serious emotions. All he wanted to do was to bang bitches and get wasted every weekend, neither was he the relationship type to stay loyal to one girl. Still, with women like Mackenzie who were ready to give up everything for him, you wanted to offer them hope that maybe they could also get a spark of his attention someday.

Someday, because for now you had it all.

Had you arrived at midnight, it wouldn’t be much of a problem because the party was only starting when you walked inside the frat house. ‘Alpha Zeta Phi, where the beers are cold and the women are friendly.’ This was your usual sanctuary for the weekends and the party ambiance was nothing new to you. You were far accustomed to the dancing neon lights and the crowd of swaying bodies as the guys and girls bopped to the echoing music, thinking of nothing but wasting another night of their college lives by drowning themselves in alcohol.

Tonight, the song Disco Inferno vibrated through the walls of the basement as you made your entrance inside. It was packed with people ranging from freshmen to seniors; some were mindlessly dancing, some were making out on one corner, and some were playing drinking games in groups. Almost immediately, you spotted a few of your acquaintances who all had red cups in their hands and needless to say that they were either tipsy or high. The bass-boosted music overpowered their voices but you were able to discern a few of their sentences.

“What’s up, Y/N?” a guy greeted, though you barely recalled his name.

“Hey, girl!”

“Yo, nice to see you!”

You returned their enthusiasm by either smiling or nodding your head in acknowledgment, that was until your eyes caught sight of Shoko Ieiri and the rest of the gang who were playing beer pong by the poolside. She was quick to point towards you with a cigarette on her hand and a red cup on the other.

“Bitch, took you long enough.” She grinned, embracing you before offering a cup of vodka mix that you quickly chugged. The liquor burned your throat as you gulped it down. “These two idiots already played a couple rounds.”

Suguru raised his hands to feign innocence. “Satoru’s idea, but he kept losing.”

You could only smile, shaking your head at how early they started drinking. Satoru, Satoru, you called him in your head as you looked around. Where are you?

There he was, arms draped around two girls in bikinis, now discarding his flock of hoes the moment his eyes landed on you. He was undeniably handsome with his red snapback and half-buttoned shirt that allowed a peek into his toned chest. No wonder those girls were all over him. It wasn’t like you were his girlfriend so seeing him with other women should never be a big deal. You were free to talk to other guys all the same. Everyone in the house knew that Satoru was a ladies’ man but he would drop every single one of them whenever you showed up. It was the expected dynamic between two friends in an exclusive exchange of benefits.

It was around the same time last year when you first met him through Shoko. You were fresh from a painful breakup back when you started to get involved with Satoru. You were looking to fill the void that your ex left and he was looking for a consistent fuck buddy who would never fall in love with him. Our love is transactional, he once said to you, highlighting how the relationship was give and take.

He was the kind of man who get easily bored with women and could replace them like underwear. The reason he stayed with you was because you were never asking for more. Simply put, you knew your place because he hated girls who wanted to tie him down, he hated girls who tried to control him. You? You were just there for the physical comfort. Transactional just as he described, with you benefiting from him and him benefiting from you.

The relationship worked because you never truly caught feelings for him. Never. You knew which lines you shouldn’t cross and so did he.

“There’s my favorite hooker,” he teased, earning sniggers from his friends before he leaned in to press his lips onto yours. Soft, sweet lips that kissed you with fervor. He also adjusted his red snapback as he pulled away, “What’s good, baby?”

You rolled your eyes when you felt his hand giving your bum a wanton squeeze. “You’re drunk this early?”

The naughty grin plastered on his face already gave you an answer. He didn’t even hesitate in having your waist caged around his arms. His hot breath reeked of alcohol and it tickled your neck while he trailed kisses up to your jawline. “You look so fucking hot.”

You were sober enough to see all eyes on the two of you. The modern day Bonnie and Clyde like how they described, as you and Gojou were envied by many during frat parties. Perhaps it was why most people were putting you on a pedestal because you were seen as a property of the most popular frat guy in college. He had a reputation on his own and you were dragged into it like a queen all for her king.

“Get a room!” Shoko whined from the other side of the table next to a grinning Suguru Getou. The two were rearranging the red cups into a triangle to prepare yet another game of beer pong while Satoru was getting all handsy with you.

This time, you decided to join the game and pushed Satoru off with so much of a complain because he wouldn’t stop feathering kisses on your neck. “Satoru, later,” you insisted, though he kept his arm around you as you two faced your friends on the other end of the table. “Loser gets to give us molly.”

“It’s on!” Suguru challenged, holding a pingpong ball like a pro. “I’ve got a couple from Spencer.”

Spencer, the current president of the fraternity, was back inside the house urging all of their pledges to do a keg-stand as part of their hazing. The rest of their frat brothers were all doing their own thing. Some were getting high on a corner, some were getting their dicks wet in God knows where.

Gojou chose to be here to play with you as he managed to land the pingpong ball in one cup. Each turn allowed you to drink every time Shoko and Suguru got a shot of their own, always keeping a playful but competitive stance. With every cup you drank, you were starting to get more and more intoxicated. Your confidence was high up the ceiling as you started undulating your body to the thumping rhythm of the music. It was Drop It Like It’s Hot by this time when you threw the pingpong ball to your target.

“Saw your ex here,” Satoru informed you while you were aiming your ball at the last four cups on Shoko’s side. He had his palms pressed flat on the table, glancing at your lips down to your plunging neckline. “Did you see him?”

You remained taciturn at the mere mention of your ex. Why was it important for Satoru to know? “So what if he’s here,” you mumbled, drinking the liquor straight without chaser. Your head was becoming dizzier by the second.

Satoru sneered and was about to say something more until the blonde and blue-eyed Brooke came to snake her arms around his torso. Tipsy? She looked like she was under the influence as her lids drooped down. The lazy smile on her face was still there when she looked up at Satoru’s face as if he was the prettiest man she had ever seen.

“You said you were gonna have fun with me,” she slurred, clinging to your man like you weren’t there. You tried as much to focus on shooting the goddamn pingpong ball while Satoru was playing house with Brooke next to you.

“Yeah, we will. Later.” His hand rubbed her lower back and lingered on the slope of her ass. You already averted your eyes to not see whatever else he was doing with her.

Unknown to you, Suguru and Shoko were teasingly nudging each other as they closely studied the expression on your face. Did you look annoyed? You didn’t even say anything but their playful gazes were meant to gauge on your reaction.

“Jealous?” Shoko egged on, taking her last drag on the cigarette before she tossed it to the floor. “Girls were all over him before you arrived, especially Brooke. Does that make you jealous?”

Jealous? You scoffed. “Fuck, no.” And yet, Suguru offered you a knowing smirk. “I swear. I don’t even feel anything for Satoru. He’s just another man with a dick that I can easily replace.”

The ‘oohs’ that came from the two almost made you laugh. You hardly even noticed how Satoru heard everything you just said after he came back from ditching Brooke to her circle of friends. It was safe to say that he didn’t look pleased with you. “You’re not jealous but you’re talking shit?” he bitterly laughed, tossing the pingpong ball and easily shooting it in.

“Did I hurt your ego?” you responded, huffing as the tension arose. Suguru had to sip on his cup with a quick look at Shoko as they listened. “Fuck who you want, I don’t care.”

Despite his pique, the corner of Satoru’s lips upturned into a humorless smirk. “You’re not a good actress, baby.”

Shoko and Suguru traded awkward glances before the rest of you finished the game. In the end, you and Satoru won because you were able to finish off their cups so his best friend handed the molly as promised.

Gojou took the initiative to place the light blue pill on his tongue, harshly pulling you for an open mouthed kiss so he could transfer the party drug by rolling his tongue to yours. It ended with you having a steamy make out session as the drug slowly absorbed its way to your system, causing you euphoria with your heightened senses and improved levels of serotonin.

Everything became swirling images that induced your midnight rhapsody.

The next thing you knew, you were laying on top of the pingpong table while Satoru was lining a smidgen of salt on your belly. Far too high to care, but you could hear hoots coming from an audience that you never realized was there as they watched how Satoru chugged from the bottle of tequila, soon leaning down to lick and sip the salt on your bare skin in front of everyone. The warmth of his tongue earned a giggle out of you before the intense effects of ecstasy finally took over.

You couldn’t tell what time it was but the frat basement only got crowded more than ever. The heat gave you beads of sweat and it urged Satoru to rid himself of his shirt to be bare-chested as you allowed your hips to grind against his crotch, moving in the same rhythm as the deafening music that resonated through the house.

The amount of jealous gazes that you received from the other girls made you scoff in your head. They were frustrated of another failed attempt to coax Satoru into sleeping with them because you were the biggest cockblock of all. You had the man wrapped around your fingers just like always.

“Baby, wanna go to my room?” Satoru drunkenly whispered on your ear, looping his finger on your pants to have you feel his growing bulge against your buttocks.

Despite the kaleidoscope of colors that left you in a euphoric daze, you turned around and nodded. “Okay, baby.”

That was how you found yourself naked in his bed, legs spread wide open while you were taking a drag on your cigarette to watch him do all the work. Your other hand held a tight grip on his white hair as he sunk his head between your thighs to give your inner folds a lavish suck. Swirling his tongue around your clit, encasing the sensitive bud between his plump lips—you were nothing but a moaning mess. He loved it as much as you did. The familiarity of your taste, the wetness of your core, and the titillating cries that you were trying hard to suppress.

You were in a trance-like state, staring at the blue LED lights that faintly illuminated his room as he continued lapping his tongue deeper in your entrance. The slurping sounds echoed through his four walls and you were shamelessly arching your back while his hands held your hips in place.

“Shit, do more,” you released another breathy moan, putting the cigarette stick between your lips only to have the smoke escape your mouth. Gojou then replaced his tongue with his hand, cupping your pussy and palming your genital in circular motions. He was entertained by the sight of you closing your eyes from satisfaction.

“I wanted to fuck Brooke tonight, you know,” he spoke in a low voice, looking down at you with a smug face as he worked on dipping two fingers deep inside your cunt. “But I’d feel bad if I left you alone.”

The hell? You snorted of disgust. If he was doing this to make you jealous, he failed. Just like his classes. “Fuck her, then. You think I give a shit?”

The muscles on his arm flexed when he curled his fingers around your velvet walls, now knuckles deep as he orchestrated his penetrative actions. “I’ll fuck her in front of you, how about that?” Your walls felt hollow when he withdrew his slick-coated fingers to grab your jaw and force you to look at his eyes. Long discarded on the ashtray was your cigarette in hand.

Fucking another girl in front of your eyes? You had to swallow your growing jealousy before they could show. “Then do it.”

He was immensely displeased. Even at that, he positioned his cock on your entrance with a face painted with vexation. “You wanna see me fuck her like this?” There was no warning when he slammed his cock inside your moistened cavern, leaving you gripping the sheets as the penetration elicited a whimper from you. “This pussy. I bet hers is tighter. Yours got loose after you let me hit it all the time.”

Your breasts were sore as it moved along with his forceful thrusts, still you didn’t hold back from slapping his cheek. “F-Fuck you,” you grunted, mouth parting open when he rutted you more heavily than the last. Frustration bathed his azure eyes just as his brows furrowed in annoyance. “Aah—Satoru!”

Fuck. Fuck, he was getting so rough.

“You’re just a whore.” Your jaw was locked on his hand while he was mercilessly pounding your cunt full of his thick cock. His girth stretched you open the more he angled his hips to reach your cervix. “Don’t ever make it seem like I’m more attached to you than you are to me. You don’t mean anything more than an easy fuck.”

Was this where his frustrations were coming from? You totally didn’t expect it and, for fuck’s sake, whoever said anything about attachments? You weren’t even thinking about it.

“I’m not attached to you, asshole,” you spat, pushing his chest while he was jostling himself harsher. “And I’ll never catch feelings for a community dick—ah, shit! Go slow!”

What the hell is wrong with him? He never usually cared about the topic of feelings and attachments. Whether it was the intoxication or the effect of drugs, you weren’t certain if he was serious about bringing it up. They said drunk people often speak their most lucid thoughts, but you didn’t know if you wanted that to be true.

One thing he was surely serious about though, was how determined he was at giving you a sore pussy with his desperate pace. It was so rough that the skin-slapping sounds were louder than his grunts. You were pulling his hair when he sucked your tit in his mouth, massaging the other breast with his hand to let your orgasm rise up slowly and gradually. Fuck, so good—you were losing your mind, and then he stopped.

He fucking stopped. He pulled his cock out of you before you could reach your high as he was now standing on the side to reach for his phone on the bedside table. Satoru started typing while you were left at sixes and sevens, completely unsatisfied in his bed. As nonplussed as you were, he was apathetic about your reaction.

“What the fuck?” you wailed, hoisting your body to sit upright. “What are you edging me for?”

“Shut the fuck up.” After he placed his phone atop his table, you two exchanged nasty glares. You didn’t know what game he was playing but he wanted to ruin you—you could see it in his eyes that he was upset with you. For what reason, exactly? The attachment thing? Wasn’t this relationship strictly no strings attached?

Unbelievable.

While you were seated in his bed wanting to argue with him, the door swung open as Brooke stumbled in with her mouth falling agape. There was only a minute of shock that went through her system when she saw you and Satoru in your nakedness.

“Hey, you called for me,” she was quick to giggle in her drunken state while Satoru hungrily met her for a heated kiss.

Things were happening way too fast before your mind could process it. You simply watched how Satoru slammed her back against the door, trapping you both in his room for his satisfaction alone. Maybe hers, too. Because Brooke was loving how desperate the guy was at unzipping her dress, immediately stripping her naked before he made her wrap her legs around his waist. The tip of his throbbing cock brushed at her entrance and you were stupefied to take in the salacious image in your head.

“Mm—!” she moaned through his lips as they swallowed each other’s face in ardency. His mouth found the smooth skin of her neck as he enveloped her on the mattress, completely discarding you on the side. “Y-Yes, fuck! Satoru!”

You didn’t expect that your heart would blaze in jealousy, the intense feeling was burning through your veins to ignite fire within your eyes. Your chest heaved when you drew in deep breaths, gathering the strength to pick up your underwear and put them on.

“D-Don’t you wanna join us?” Brooke asked, reaching for your wrist after you pulled your panties up.

Satoru momentarily halted from sucking her boob to look at you in sarcasm. “Yeah, I thought you didn’t mind?”

You didn’t. No shits given even when he started playing with her pussy with those slender fingers. No shits given even when he praised her for having the sexiest body he had ever seen.

Your pride was severely damaged but you have always been great at concealing your emotions with a huge impenetrable wall. Nothing could hurt you better than your ex did because you now learned to never give a damn about relationships.

“You’re so tight, Brooke. I’d fuck this pussy all night.” Satoru’s praises were more-so meant to injure your heart than it was to actually please her.

You hated that smug look on his face thinking that he was triumphant at evoking your jealousy. Unfortunately for him, you were ten times more toxic. How exactly could you turn the situation around? One thing. It was to show your indifference.

You showed it by pushing Satoru off Brooke, pulling the girl up to lock your lips against hers. She happily indulged herself from your soft kisses, allowing you more access as you trailed your tongue on the crook of his neck. “Women know how to please each other better, right?”

In the corner of your eyes, Gojou was amused at the sight that he started pumping his cock from the arousal he gained. What a jerk.

“You’re so pretty,” Brooke flirted, gazing at your face as you spread her legs open. She was wet and absolutely warm when you dunked two fingers inside her cunny. “Oh—yeah!”

Satoru, on the other hand, was now positioning his cock near her mouth, holding his shaft as he slapped the tip against her tongue. “Suck me.”

Very obliging, she did. Her mouth was easily wrapped around his cock, bobbing her head to suck his length while pumping the other half for his pleasure. Her cheeks were even hollowed with each ardent suck.

All the while, you and Satoru were engaged in a staring contest. He was gazing down at you while you were glaring up at him, trying to read each other’s minds to no avail. Did he think this was fun? Well, it fucking was.

Brooke’s cunt was already pink and sore as you scissored your fingers inside her cavern. Because she was busy sucking Satoru’s dick, she didn’t notice how the man affectionately stroked your hair with his fingers. Now he wanted to be soft?

“His cock’s good, right?” you asked Brooke who hummed in response, swiveling her head to take him balls deep in her mouth. You withdrew your hand from her core and lowly chuckled. “That cock’s been in my pussy every day. You should deep throat him.”

At least you were able to bury your jealousy by playing around. However, you were done with this game and you no longer wished to stay another minute through it. Satoru was too occupied at moaning Brooke’s name as you got up and put your slick-coated fingers inside his mouth so he could suck the blonde’s juices off your digits.

That was the last service you did before you wore your clothes and prepared to leave, not before you took out a packet of condom from Gojou’s drawer. You’ve slept in his room way too many times that you knew where he would hide his things.

“Use a condom and don’t nut inside her,” you reminded, unwrapping the packet with your teeth before handing it to him.

His cerulean eyes stared at you in confusion. “Where you goin’?”

“Dorm, I’m tired.” Did he expect you to sleep next to him after all this?

“No. Stay with m—” He tugged at your arm as if he cared about your departure when he was literally getting his dick sucked. The 180 turn of his emotions was absurd and you didn’t want to deal with it. “Whatever.”

You gestured towards the girl before you stepped away. “Have fun with Brooke.”

Mondays. You hated Mondays.

Mostly because you had a full load on the first day of the week and you had to attend a 7AM Humanities class. You barely even spent the weekend well because you were hungover throughout Saturday while your Sunday rendezvous was an afternoon lunch at the city with your mom.

Now you were back to being a ‘responsible’ college student by attending your classes so as not to miss any lectures because the semester was coming to an end. It was no surprise to see the lecture hall filled with students for once as everyone were desperate to catch up on the previous lectures they failed to attend.

You had no idea what Gojou was up to but you hadn’t spoken to him since that night at the frat house. He might have been too busy fucking Brooke all night but you also wouldn’t be shocked if it was just a one-night stand. Not being tied down was simply Satoru’s nature. It seemed that Brooke was aware because the girl casually greeted you this morning when she saw you rushing out of the residence halls seemingly unashamed of your situation last Friday.

And fine, maybe you were still bothered by the threesome thing but not because you had anything against Brooke. It was merely the way Satoru transitioned from being rough to inviting another girl out of spite was what somehow irked you and you did feel an iota of jealousy at the fact that he was willing to fuck another girl just to prove his point. He went from calling you a whore and telling you that you had a loose cunt to worshipping Brooke and saying she has the tightest pussy he has ever had. What kind of man would fucking say that? Intoxicated or not, he went below the belt and hurt your feelings.

The frown on your face seemed to have reflected your deep thoughts because the stranger who slid next to you was fast to point it out.

Only, when his voice slithered through your ears, you realized that this was the last man you wished to see. “Bad day?”

You turned your head to see fucking Ryomen Sukuna comfortably lounging in his seat with a football on his hand. It was for the first time in months that your heart was in complete frenzy again. The very presence of your ex was enough to clear all the thoughts you’ve just had because he was powerful enough to bring your attention solely around him.

“The fuck are you doing here?” you hissed, facing away to focus on the lecture.

You absolutely despised how you still find him handsome when he was grinning. “Because I have class here?” He was playing with the football in his hand as he looked at you. “You partied last Friday, huh?”

Remembering how Satoru mentioned that this guy was indeed at the frat house last time, he must have seen all the shit that you did while you were inebriated out of your wits.

“None of your business and,” you briefly met his amused eyes to scowl at him, “don’t fucking talk to me.”

Last time you checked, this man was a manipulative bastard. He was a serial cheater who gaslighted you into thinking that you were at fault for his disloyalty. That you were never enough, that you had to do better, that something was wrong with you. As a woman deeply in love, you gave everything to Sukuna that you endured his toxicity. You even had a fallout with your mom when you chose to live with him off-campus within your first two years in university because you were so fucking in love with him. Well, until the manipulation and the cheating happened.

The only person who helped you get out of the relationship was Shoko—always one to give you advices, always one to comfort you through your pain. Still, the trauma that you experienced from your fucked-up relationship with Sukuna made you believe that you could no longer commit to any man.

And then you met Satoru. Although there were no labels between you two, he brought in some sense of comfort. Only until last Friday night when you started to see the red flags within yours and Satoru’s beneficial friendship that it made you want to step back a little.

“I’m just talking, I’m not even doing anything,” Sukuna countered, relaxing in his seat with his bicep brushing against your arm. “Are you still that guy’s plaything?”

You scooted away. “I’m not a plaything.”

His sonorous chuckle was a melody in itself, but you weren’t swayed by it anymore. “Yeah? Did you know he punched me when I told him you were just my leftover?”

This information had you looking at his self-approving face. “What?”

“He didn’t tell you?” He glanced at your lips then back at your eyes. You already knew this trick so well. “Frankly, I’d easily punch him too but coach’s gonna put me on probation if I started a scuffle.”

Your brows creased in befuddlement. “I could care less about what you’d have done. I wanna know why you talked to him.”

There was only mirth in his eyes, one that mocked your stern visage. You wondered what business Sukuna had with Satoru, but he already answered your curiosity with an honest albeit monotonous response, “He talked to me. Dude’s asking me to stay away from you.” Indifference laced his tone as he continued. “I think it’s selfish of him since he’s fucking other bitches when you’re not around.”

Considering your rising ire, you chose to defend the white-haired man nonetheless. “We’re not tied to each other so he can do what he wants.”

“Man. If that was us before then we’d never have broken up.”

You were damn tired of this. It was clear as day that Sukuna never valued your relationship the same way you did but to remind you of it like he was pouring salt to the wound? Fucking uncalled for.

Having to bear Sukuna’s presence for three hours was a nightmare and you were swift at gathering your stuff to leave the lecture hall as soon as the class ended. You found him following your tail as you got out of the room, and much to your luck, you happened to have stumbled into a wide-eyed Satoru who seemed to have been waiting for you outside.

“Wh-What are you doing here?” Your question was ignored as he kept an unyielding look towards your jackass of an ex.

The tension grew when Sukuna placed a hand on your back to make it appear as though you had been cool around him. He knew what he was doing and he was clearly winning.

Because when you looked at Satoru, he was a minute close to punching the guy squarely on the face. “I told you to stay away from her.”

Your ex released a derisive snort. “Why should I listen to a snowflake?”

“Enough!” You were pulling Satoru’s wrist, dragging him away from Sukuna before they could have another exchange of provocation. Nothing about this had you prepared and your loud sigh was to release your exasperation.

To your surprise, Gojou bitterly snatched his wrist away from you. “You’re whoring yourself to him again?”

“Are you kidding me?” you raised your voice as you two stood outside of the building. “Stop calling me a whore, you fucking asshole. He’s the one who talked to me and I don’t even have to explain myself to you.”

Seriously, what was his deal? He was acting on the boyfriend role when he was not even appointed to be one. Why has Satoru started being weird like this? You two agreed to be in this setup. He was the one who constantly insisted that falling in love was not his thing. Never his thing. These questions bugged your head and left your brain jumbled because you couldn’t understand why he was being like this.

“If you’re getting back at me because of Brooke, that’s stupid ‘cause you said it was fine—”

“Woah,” you cut him off before he could continue, “I’m not pissed about that.”

Lies. You did feel an ounce of jealousy but that was long gone now and he didn’t seem to accept it well. That didn’t stop his hand from lacing around your fingers while his ocean orbs searched for love in yours.

“Can we just—for fuck’s sake! Let’s stop playing this game,” he said in complete submission. “Just date me. Let’s turn us into a real thing, Y/N. It could work.”

You were swallowed by your own voice as nothing came out of your parted lips knowing that the next words you would say might be something you might regret. Because for one of two things, you didn’t see this coming. Two, the idea of dating scared you.

Commitment required a lot of emotional stability and trusting your partner was another factor that you were not ready to plunge yourself into. With your previous failed relationship with Sukuna in mind, you knew you were just bound to catapult your heart back into an abyss once your relationship with Satoru did not work.

At the end of the day, he was a man. If your heart was torn asunder, it would be easy for him to find someone new but it would take you years to heal from the pain. You were already satisfied with what you were to him and he to you, so why would he ever want to ruin it?

“Satoru, I’m sorry I don’t date.”

Ironically, you might have been the one that ruined it.

Standing beneath the aureate skies was you and him, enshrouded by the amalgam of heartbreak and unfamiliar pain. Satoru’s eyes glinted of dejection as he took slow backward strides, face hardening into a stone to mask his blues.

It wasn’t just his entire countenance that changed before your eyes but also the friendship that you’ve built together for a year.

“Fine,” he answered, spitting the bitterness in his mouth through his words. “I guess your roommate would be interested to date me.”

jjk general taglist: @kity @deeznutss @suhkusa @wonyoschubs @the-golden-jhope @zeickv @6mattsun9 @hokageyamz @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @crashica @aizawap @juniorhooter @atsumusoup @gxtitobxby @strawberries-en-cream @dora-the-grownup @softy-woo @tsumume @kac-chowsballs @lets-go-datehoe @kageyamakock @naioimiwinchester @gojouandmegumibrainrot @onlyonew @underratedmage @katsulovee | @reneki @pluviophilefangirl

Missing Scene 4x08 9-1-1 fox

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT FOR “BREAKING POINT”

By the time he manages to grab his keys, jump into his truck, drive halfway across town and find parking in Buck’s neighborhood, Eddie is a mess of nerves as he makes his way across the threshold and into the loft. “Buck, where’s--” 

Buck shushes him immediately, pointing upstairs to where his bedroom is. “He’s exhausted. He ate one of those oven ready mac n’ cheese meals in my fridge and practically fell asleep on my couch; I carried him up to bed a few minutes ago. He’s knocked out up there.” 

Eddie sighs, the relief he feels is staggering. 

He quietly makes his way upstairs and lingers at the top step, watching his kid sleep soundly, his chest moving up and down rhythmically with every breath he takes. Eddie stands there and simply takes in the sight for a handful of minutes before slowly making his way back down and to the kitchen, where Buck is leaning back against his counter sipping on a beer. 

There’s another one on the table waiting for him and he gratefully grabs it, taking a long gulp before sitting it back down and letting out a deep sigh. 

“So uh, what exactly happened?” Buck asks, and there’s something about his tone Eddie can’t decipher, but he knows it’s not good. 

“I told you already, he found out I started dating someone and clearly he didn’t take it so well.” Eddie takes another swig of his beer, huffing in frustration. 

Buck places his drink down on the counter and folds his arms, “Yeah, I know that part, what I don’t get is how Christopher managed to literally run away from home with you in the house? What were you doing when he took your phone, used it to call an Uber and had some stranger drive him here in the middle of the night?” 

Accusatory. That’s what that tone is, Eddie finally identifies. “Are you serious right now?” he slams his beer bottle down with unnecessary force and Buck gives him a warning look. 

He half whispers, half yells, when he says, “No shit I’m serious. Answer the question.” 

Eddie blinks, surprised and equal parts irritated by the ire he’s receiving from Buck of all people. Lawsuit aside, Buck has never not been on Eddie’s side; this entire confrontation feels wrong and foreign to him. “I was on a video call with Ana, I had my headphones in, I knew Christopher was upset about the news, but I didn’t think he would--” 

“This? What happened tonight? This was the best case scenario, and I know damn well you know that. Christopher got into some strangers car tonight. Eddie, what if I hadn’t been home? He didn’t have a phone with him or anything, he didn’t even take your copy of my key with him, just in case Albert and I weren’t here. What the hell would he have done then? Hung out in the hallway or God forbid roamed the streets and waited for someone to notice an unattended nine year old?” Buck’s been angry before, but nothing compares to the wrath brewing somewhere deep in the pit of his belly right now.

Eddie goes on the defense, glaring at Buck from across the table in the half light. “It’s so easy for you to stand there and judge me when you’re not a parent yourself, Buck. What do you expect from me? I can’t keep an eye on Christopher twenty four seven--how the hell was I supposed to know he’d leave like that?!” 

Buck glares at him right back, matching his intensity, times ten. “First of all, keep your voice down--he’s sleeping.” Buck plows on, even as Eddie tries to talk over him. “And secondly, I don’t need to be a parent to know you fucked up tonight the same way I don’t need to be a pilot to know that if the plane went down something’s wrong. How could you not hear him leaving? Were you two watching a goddamn movie over skype, is that why you didn’t hear the damn door open and shut? Christopher’s a lot of things, but stealthy isn’t one of ‘em Eddie.” 

“What the fuck is your problem right now? What? You think I don’t feel shitty enough already? You wanna add insult to injury on top of everything?” Eddie scoffs, aggravated and hurt and on the attack. “I don’t need you to lecture me on how to take care of my kid. He’s mine, not yours, in case you forgot.” 

Buck takes a step back, like he’s been dealt a harsh blow. “That’s not--I’m not saying--” he stammers, his face crumpling into despair. “I was scared.” he hides his face in his palms, exhaling fully. “Jesus Christ Eddie, I saw him standing outside my building in the cold, trying to work the handle, and he was alone and when I brought him inside and he told me everything, about the phone and the Uber ride I instantly thought about every single little thing that could have gone so horribly wrong, how it was a miracle he made it all the way here and that he was safe--” his voice cracks on the last word and he turns his back to Eddie, his shoulders shaking. 

Fear. Fear is what Eddie had felt. Instant hot white fear and an overwhelming panic, for those few brief awful moments wherein he’d had no idea where Christopher had run off to. 

“Shit.” Eddie lets out an audible breath. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that--you’re a good dad, I just--all I can think about right now is the tsunami, about how I lost Christopher, about how I couldn’t breathe until--” 

“You found him.” Eddie finishes softly. He makes his way to Buck and settles a hand on his shoulder, his thumb brushing the nape of his neck. “I know the feeling. Trust me. Every parents worst nightmare.” 

Buck turns around, his eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. “I know I’m not Christopher’s dad, I swear that’s not what I was trying to--” 

Eddie shakes his head. “That wasn’t fair, what I said. I know everyone sees me and thinks, ‘single dad’, but I don’t know if I would have survived this whole parenting thing without you by my side, Buck. And that’s the hard truth. I mean, hell, we get into an argument and the first person Christopher turns to is you. You know that’s gotta count for something, don’t you?” 

Buck swipes at his face when a stray tear rolls down his cheek. “Sorry...about what I said. I think I was just projecting.” 

Eddie gulps, “No. You weren’t.” he admits, pressing his lips together. “I did fuck up tonight. Big time. I should have been in Christopher’s room, talking to him about everything, trying to explain to him that nothing about our relationship is going to change, just because I’m dating, and that no one could replace his mother, I should have been in there, making sure he understood--especially after how volatile his reaction was and then the whole storming off after. Instead I decided to spend an hour on skype talking to Ana about it.” He sighs. “Christopher’s been my first and main priority for so long, I guess I’m not used to splitting my attention between two people. I uh, I need to work on that...” 

“Bucky?” 

Eddie and Buck both whip their heads up to where Christopher is leaning against the railing, peeking down at the both of them. 

“Hey bud, you ok?” Buck hastily tries to turn his expression into something more neutral. 

“Had a bad dream.” Christopher looks at the two men pleadingly. “Can you guys come sleep with me?” 

Eddie turns to Buck and they communicate silently, with only a couple of looks, ultimately deciding that it is, in fact, bedtime. 

“We’ll be right up.” Eddie tells him. 

The Start of Winter Break. (18+)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | I FEEL RLLY SAD CUZ I WANTED TO DO THE SUKUNA BUT I DONT KNOW THE STORY ON ALADDIN SO I OPTED FOR 2 INSTEAD IM SORRY ANON. anyways i wanted to feed u guys rlly well and actually took the time to write and edit. I’M REFORMED also writing on google docs is so hard?? (reposting cuz i think im shadowbanned)

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 3798

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Food Play, Nipple Play, Oral (Fem Receiving), Degrading Nicknames (I didn’t really proof read that hard but I know there’s like, a mention of one nickname along the lines of that.)

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | It’s the first day of Winter Break, and you want to surprise Gojo with a cup of hot cocoa, instead, Gojo surprises you.       Blinking your eyes furiously, you adjusted to the dark room. Immediately, you breathe a sigh of relief. You didn’t have to wake up at such an early hour, and for once you woke up refreshed. It was finally the first day of Winter Break, you had overworked yourself, making sure that you were to spend the end of the year work-free and available for as many Christmas parties you wanted to attend.        Yawning, stretching as you did so, you look over your shoulder. There’s a slight smile dawning on Gojo’s lips.  His long eyelashes fluttered when he slept. He slightly snored, grabbing at where you once slept in his arms.   The room was unusually cold. You had always awoke to sunlight streaming from the window, realizing that could only mean that another day of work was ahead of you. But now, the room was dim, and freezing might you add. You couldn’t wait to snuggle with Gojo, this was perfect cuddle weather.   Tearing your eyes away from Gojo’s pretty face, you instead looked at the door. Years of photos with Gojo absolutely slathered the poor thing, past memories all flickering before your eyes. Pictures in Disneyland, bright colors in contrast with the rather dark clothes he always seemed to wear.   Once in a while, you would see pictures of Yuuji, Shoko, Megumi, Nobara, just about every Tokyo Jujutsu Tech School member there was, and even Utahime, celebrating good times with Gojo.      You didn’t find yourself in many of the pictures, but the ones you did find yourself happened to be some of your fondest memories.   Far more common were pictures of you, with ridiculous, shit, you’d even go as far as to say downright ugly faces while he told you a stupid joke were also taped sloppily, some photos were even slanted.    Gojo had made it a firm promise to take pictures of you when you least expected it, because that’s when he always found you the cutest.   You peek at Gojo’s sleeping face once more, a slight giggle rising from your throat that you struggled to silence. His mouth, slightly agape, was now drooling onto the pillow he oh so gracefully rested on.     Jerking your head up and snapping out of your Gojo daze, you realized that you were supposed to make your daily morning coffee for you and him today. You had chewed him out multiple times, telling him that the way he made coffee was nauseating. Usually, Gojo would always accompany the bitter drink with 8 sugarcubes, which was not your thing.   He always seemed to forget, honestly you couldn’t really tell with him, giving you a mug of absurdly sweetened coffee every morning. You always foolishly assumed that he had listened to you from the last scolding, so you would always sip it, letting the coffee coat your pallet, but promptly spit it out as soon as you realized how sickly sweet it was.     “Satoru! This is too sweet!”   “Honeybun, you’re the sweetest thing in this room, what do you mean the coffee could be too sweet? Not possible.” he would inquire innocently, tilting his head to the side.   You’d frown, shaking your head and muttering about the acts of distaste you’d do to him before Gojo bursts into a fit of laughter, pointing at you and watching you unenthusiastically look back. Most likely fuming silently, but you didn’t want to tell him that.   “You’re so fucking cute when you’re angry, (Y/N).”     “Satoru, I can literally not survive the day without coffee. Whatever you’re serving me is definitely not the coffee I want, and sooner or later I’ll be dropping dead.”     He would shrug playfully, as if he didn’t even understand the core concepts of what you were trying to tell him. But you knew he did, he just didn’t want to do it.    You would clench your fists, trying to look threatening. Your back straightening, and on your tippy toes even though you knew you could never be as tall as him. It never ever worked though, he would just continue to laugh harder, but that was just the routine.    “Then do it yourself, sweetie. I wake up at the asscrack of dawn just to make you a cup of coffee. I don’t know about you, but that’s the best show of love.”      “Oh I will. I’ll do it well.”      And so, you weren’t lying. The two of you began to take turns. You woke up even earlier than you did for work, and made him his coffee (with extra sugar, just as he likes it) while also making yours, making sure to relish the bitter and frankly delicious black drink, void of any sweetening. The next day, he would as well. He never listened to your sugar lectures though, making sure to add 3-4 cubes just to make you angry.    You had pretty much given up on all hope of ever getting your ideal coffee from Satoru, it was beyond him to even listen. Besides, you had grown to like the sweetness.   Speaking of brown sweet liquids, it was a perfect hot cocoa morning. The snow was beginning to pile up outside, pure white blanketing just about everything. You hastily threw on an oversized sweater Gojo owned, which you had found strewn on the ground.   You rolled your eyes, that guy was a mess. What would he do without you?   Trudging and stumbling your way into the kitchen like a newborn fawn, you flicked on the lights. As soon as the lights came on, you shielded your eyes from the brightness. Cursing as you pulled out a chair, your eyes slowly adjusting, pulling the chair over to the shelves and cabinets out of reach.   Now standing on the wooden chair, you grumbled. So much for being a good girlfriend, your legs ached for some reason, so every time you stood on your tippy toes, you winced.   Knocking down a bottle of vegetable oil into the sink, you were startled by such an incredibly loud noise. Your eyes widen and your legs tangle as you scramble, almost falling backwards. Grabbing onto the cabinet’s ledge, you breathed a sigh of relief as the chair stabilized.    This was a blessing in disguise, as the chocolate syrup came into view.   A feeling of triumph flooding you, you happily hummed gently pulling it out. Setting it down on the counter, you got down, moving the chair over to the right.   Standing back onto the chair, you placed a finger on your lips, slightly rubbing them. Your memory wasn’t doing you very well, forgetting where all the extra add-ons for baked goods were.   Your tongue stuck out to the side, swinging a random cabinet’s doors wide open. You had guessed correctly, sprinkles of various vivid colors stood idly, eye-catching colors on full display. A fine coat of dust had settled on the caps.   You coughed into your arm, now rummaging through the many sprinkles that Gojo would insist on buying because, “they were too cute to pass up.”      Sometimes, you swore the guy was a middle-aged Pinterest mom.   Yanking out a half opened bag of Jumbo Marshmallows, you did a small victory dance. Normally, Gojo would inhale the darned things, but he was asleep, and very soundly at that. Finally able to have your first taste of marshmallows in a while, you popped a couple in your mouth, practically melting.   So sweet.   Strolling over to the fridge while popping more marshmallows in your mouth, you lazily threw the bag onto the counter. Swinging the fridge door wide open, you shivered at the cold air, hauling a jug of milk out.   As usual, it was half full. Gojo would insist on eating all his cookies with milk, and if he didn’t have milk with his cookies, he would not eat them, stating that it was against his beliefs to even begin to stare at a cookie without a cold glass of milk at the side.   He was probably a 9 year old trapped in a 28 year olds body.   Humming a short tune, you poured the milk into a mug that Gojo had bought for you as a souvenir on a business trip. Painted onto it was a beautiful scene. Flourishing, vibrant flowers only half-heartedly concealing an undisturbed pond, deers frolicking around it. The mug was your favorite cup, and even Gojo, who most likely had the memory span of a goldfish when it came to unnecessary facts such as this one, knew it.   You flipped the chocolate syrup bottle upside down, smacking the top. Making a note to yourself to buy chocolate syrup the next time you went out. Strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer.   “Boo.”   Startled, you twirled around, expecting a rather friendly home invader, or something along the lines of that. Instead, you were greeted with Gojo Satoru’s face. Satoru’s eyebrow twitches, looking at you with an amused expression.   “Scared? We’re on the same boat.” he snickered, “woke up to some loud ass bang.” Gojo sleepy whispered into your ear, ruffling your hair with his large, calloused hands. His chin now resting on your right shoulder.     “I dropped the vegetable oil on accident.” You ignored the light, fluttering feeling when he touched you.     “Gosh, you’re a clumsy one aren’t you, sugar?”       Scoffing, you whip your head back to the hot chocolate. An unhealthy serving of chocolate syrup was splattered inside the mug, already blending with the milk.   “Don’t turn your back on me, pumpkin.” whining playfully, tugging at your left shoulder. There was something about such a playful, childish Gojo that you loved. You wished you got to see it more often.    You pretend to be annoyed, looking at him, now standing up without the support of your shoulder, in the eye now. A flicker of mischievousness over his face, he looks down at you.   “How thoughtful.” kissing your temple, he yawned. “Making hot chocolate for me? Oh hey- you even got the exact same amount of chocolate I like.”   “Satoru.” hands on your hips, you were bemused. How could one even like sugar this much?    “This is an ungodly amount of chocolate syrup, and can NOT be good for you.”   His warm gaze stared back, a slight curve to his lips now. You swear you could die a happy girl now, Gojo wasn’t sleepy very often, so when he was, you made sure to relish it. Usually, when you were lucky enough to be in the presence of a sleepy Gojo, he was always softer. Giving you small, coy smiles. Your retort didn’t even seem to register in his brain in the slightest.   “I want it, though.”   You sighed, facepalming.     “Ooooh, marshmallows!” suddenly bursting with energy he never exhibited before seeing the sugary treat, his long arm extended over to the bag, tugging at it to get it closer to him before finally shoving 3 or more into his mouth.   “Satoru!” you yank his hand back from the entrance of his mouth, able to save a few, albeit a bit ugly and smooshed, marshmallows.   “Wha?” he rubbed his eyes, chewing noisily on the marshmallows he was lucky enough to get into his mouth.   “Baby. We need those marshmallows, here, can you microwave a bowl of them? Save a few for later.”   He nodded obediently, tugging a bowl out of the “washed dishes” section of the sink. Wiping it down sloppily with a towel. He dug his hand into the marshmallow bag, throwing a few handfuls into the bowl before carefully placing the bowl into a microwave, sneaking a few more into his mouth before jabbing at a few buttons.    “There.” he gave you a crooked grin and a thumbs up, walking back over to you, placing warm fingers against your cheek, suddenly jumping back.   “Holy shit, babygirl, you’re cold.”   About to respond, you too realized how cold you were. Lightly shivering, your hands seemed to be blocks of ice.   “Babe, can you go get an extra sweater-”   Hands under your sweater (well, technically his) suddenly, his warm, big hands massaged your breasts. You yelped, the hot contact against your cold skin was electrifying. His thumbs, rubbing over your nipples lazily, sent even more shivers down your spine. Quietly moaning, you looked back at Gojo, who seemed to thoroughly savor every little sound you made.   “Like that, lil girl~?”   “S-Satoru! Not now… I’m making you s-something!”   “Hot cocoa doesn’t take a chef to make.” he placed kisses on your neck, lightly suckling on your bare skin.   “I-I know, but just… N-not now.” you stammered, he was now tweaking your nipples, gently pulling them. He didn’t seem to register the request though, but instead was drawing lazily  on your breast.   “That better, missy?” he questioned, watching you catch your breath and gulp. Resting his chin on your shoulder once more.   “Mmmmm.” you responded, thoroughly enjoying his warm touch. Closing your eyes, enjoying the mystifying feeling his hands always gave you.    Loudly, the microwave beeped. Suddenly jumping up from the loud occurrence, Gojo cursed under his breath and jogged over to the microwave, swinging the handle open.   “Great news, (Y/N). I didn’t burn the marshmallows!”   Grumbling under your breath, and wishing all hell to the microwave for disrupting such an intimate event, you nodded, giving him a few weak claps for his rather stupid achievement. Gesturing for him to bring the bowl over, you pulled out a spoon from the drawer beneath you.   As soon as Gojo placed the bowl on the counter, he zoomed back to where he had left off, grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing it. This time, he was massaging one of your shoulders.   Your breathing was heavier when he did this, Gojo noted, watching as you struggled to mix the chocolate syrup and milk together. He did this for a while, eyeing the cooling marshmallow.   He swiped up a dollop, wiping it down your neck. Letting out a gasp by the sudden warmth, you assumed it was Gojo’s mouth. To your surprise, it wasn’t.   He licked the cloud of fluff, before straight up placing his entire mouth on it, lightly sucking and licking your skin. Your panties were getting awfully wet.   “L-love, we n-need the fluff to a-add the finishing touch to t-the hot cocoa.” you would mutter, trying not to collapse from the pleasure.   “You getting wet?” now lightly nibbling on your skin, his hand left your breast, dunking his hand underneath the fabric of your panties. He sneered, realizing the puddle that had seeped itself into the material.   “Aw, you’re absolutely wet. Fuck am I saying?” he swirled his finger around your entrance, lightly dipping one of his fingers in before he took it out. Whimpering, your walls clenched around something that wasn’t there.   “Anyways, let's get back to the hot cocoa!” innocently licking his glistening finger, he looked at you.   ‘What? Y-you can’t do that to me-!”   “Isn’t that what you wanted?” he chirped back, smiling devilishly.   “That’s what I wanted before-”   “Hush up, slut.” he rubbed your head with one hand, the other, stroking your cheek.     You didn’t realize how hot you got when he called you a slut, whimpering, the hot cocoa long forgotten on the counter as you leaned into his chest.     “Aw, you’re so cute.” tugging on your cheeks softly, you look up at him, while he looked down. Even though you were his girlfriend, you didn’t really see his eyes often. They were a brilliant shade of aquamarine, flecks of a darker blue were also sprinkled amongst the sea of various shades of blue.   “You want something? You’re giving me those puppy eyes.” Still pulling at your cheeks, he stared down patiently, unable to hide the smile on his face.   “I hate when you tease me.” you blurt out, surprisingly coherent, even though Gojo was pinching your cheek. Another flicker of amusement on his face.   “That’s not how you ask for something you want.”   He stopped pinching your cheeks, now staring at you. You couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking about, his face was blank, eyes cloudy.   “Mmm, I’ll give you one last chance before you get punished. Now missy, what do you want?”   You tugged at the hem of his pants, still making eye contact.   “You can’t have that, sweetie.” he straightened you back up, so that you weren’t leaning on his chest any longer. “It’s way too early.”   “Then what was the point of teasing me?” you groaned, clasping your hands together and looking at him. “Please?” you were sure to have your eyelashes flutter.   He laughed, shaking his head. “Sorry, princess.”   You groaned, getting down onto the cold floor, getting onto your knees, looking at his pleasurably entertained face.   “...What about now?”    He chuckled, rubbing your head again. “No, baby. I’m just not in the mood, but I can make a recommendation that works with me. Although, you’re really cute when you’re on your knees for me.”   You nodded, nervously anticipating whatever he wanted to do.   You didn’t need to wait, though, he carried you over to the table, like a princess, unclothing you quickly. Throwing his sweater onto the floor once again, you felt your heart jump a little. A small pile of clothing consisting of the sweater, your panties, and a t-shirt was crumpled up on the floor.   He cupped your breasts, leaning over the table to look at them. His expression softened, placing delicate kisses on each breast, making you gasp a little.   “So cute.” whispering, rubbing your nipples once again.   Your hands found their home in Gojo’s hair, now clenching onto his snowy white locks. He grunted a little as you pushed his head further into your chest, effectively telling you to start suckling on the now slightly abused domes.    “Just a sec, (Y/N).” extending his impossibly long limbs to grab the marshmallow fluff bowl, his long fingers danced at the rim, then pulled it closer to his chest. Yanking the spoon out of the bowl, he spread the lukewarm fluff on your body, you weren’t expecting such warmth, and you let out a yelp, realizing what he was slathering onto you.   “Satoru! D-did you forget what I said e-earlier?”   “Nope, I just don’t care.” sadistically grinning, he ducked his head down, the space between your breasts and his face non existent. He had practically smooshed himself into your embrace, your arms around his head. He was good with his tongue, you had to admit, too good.   Goosebumps grew on your skin, no matter how many times you two fucked senseless, he still had such an effect on you. His tongue swirling around your nipple, fingers rubbing and teasing the other. You felt his hot breath against your skin, and you couldn’t help but think how good it felt.     Strands of hair tickled you as he began to noisily slurp, before coming back up again. Your breast was glistening with spit, few thin lines of marshmallow fluff left over. He licked them up, before scooping up a few dollops of marshmallow fluff onto you, looking hungrily at the attention-starved breast, before diving back down. Fingers now giving the spoiled nipple almost close to 0 action.     He licked the hard nipple a few more times before sucking onto it, as if he was a baby. I mean, he probably was. Afterall, he was a manchild. Regardless, you found yourself heavily breathing, hugging his head like it was the last thing you’d ever do. His teeth lightly nibbled, making you jump a little. Now biting onto it, you squealed.   He glanced up, before going back down, licking the sensitive bud. You felt a rush near your lower regions, a familiar warmth rushed to your cheeks.   “S-Satoru! I think I’m gonna-!”   You weren’t even going to finish the sentence, the white, hot liquid pooling out of you as soon as you uttered a few words. Gojo’s attention was now focused on you, before looking down.   “Woah, lil girl. That’s a large mess. I didn’t know your pussy needed any attention.” he directed his gaze towards your pussy, spreading the folds and softly examined it.   “How pretty.” he muttered, he flicked his thumb on your clit, making you moan loudly.   “FUCK!” you threw a hand over your mouth, he laughed, his breath tickling you.    “You’re really wet.”   Without any warning before hand, he dove in between your legs, beginning to noisily slurp at your folds, dipping his tongue into your entrance.   You began to practically scream louder, you were fuzzy, your body, your mind, everything. Unable to cover your moans, you began to grimace at the stares your neighbors would give you when you went out for the mail. Gojo would laugh, telling you that, “He was just trying to show the world you were his.” and not pay any mind, cursing him for being so skilled, you struggled to contain all the noises you were making.   You felt his tongue tease your entrance playfully, flicking your clit a few times for extra measure, you were now wildly thrashing, and you knew Gojo couldn’t wait to ridicule you over dinner.   About to straight up shove his head closer into you, his tongue finally stuck inside of you. Letting out a sigh of relief mixed with added pleasure, he skillfully lapped at your juices. Noisily slurping away at you, he glanced up.    You were trying to sit up, but were struggling as you did so. The waves of pleasure sent you crashing back down onto the table.   You felt him exhale through his nose, tickling you once again. He closed the little space between you and his face, as soon as he was in contact with your skin, you wrapped your legs around his back, trying to close the distance that wasn’t there.   Now, his tongue was reaching you in places you’d never think he would. Flush, hot skin was sweating against the table surface, but you paid no mind, promising yourself to wipe the top later. Hair strands practically glued to the sides of your head due to the sweat, you whined again, feeling yourself close to cumming.   You were about to speak again, warning Gojo, but you couldn’t. Before the words could even spill out of your mouth, you felt yourself burst.   Gojo, seemingly unaware, was still lapping at your walls. You looked at him, breathing heavily. His eyes widened, and you felt him stop licking for a while, before you saw him gulp and stand back up.   His eyes twinkled a little in the light, and you straightened, sitting on the table, your heart still beating rapidly.   “You never told me you were gonna cum.”   You turned your head to the side, about to retort, before you realized the empty bowl of marshmallow fluff.   “Satoru! I told you to not use it all!” (resposting because i think im shadowbanned, please interact if u saw this!)

Okay, a lonely place of dying thoughts. This will be long

So, I just finished re-reading a lonely place of dying. before I get to far into it: This is specifically to analyze the way the character and information is presented to the reader. It’s not to say “so and so is a bad character” or “this is a bad plotline”.

Starting off: they were definitely playing it super safe for the comic reader when they introduced Tim. It feels as if he is introduced literally as an audience avatar. For a large portion of the time before we meet him, we literally are seeing through his eyes -- the panel is positioned so that we would be at his head height, looking at whatever he’s looking at. we never see him except for his hands (so the audience can presumably imagine themselves in his shoes).

this isn’t the way they usually frame unknown characters or characters whose identity is obscured to create an air of mystery -- and there’s an excellent comparison in this same plotline, because there is a character with their identity obscured, who was framed a different way

[image: first two panels are of two face, who is wearing a trench coat and a fedora that casts a shadodw and obscures his face so we cannot tell who he is. His face is completely in shadow. he is talking to someone behind him. he says "Tomorrow. The zwei brothers warehouse. Two am. Now go back to your wife. the fat lady's about to sing." in the next panel, we see him from behind. the back of his head is entirely in shadow to avoid giving us any hints as to who he is. the man he's talking to, Gerry sky, says "whatever it is -- later." two face says "now. 'payroll activation'" and gerry says "okay, okay -- now."

next there's a panel with the dialogue whited out. We still see two face, wearing gloves and having nearly all of his skin (except for his face, which is always in shadow) covered. First we look at him from above and he is small against a dark room with a bookshelf in the background. Then there's a closeup of only his gloved hand as he turns off the radio. We see him from behind (thighs up) as he stands in front of a window, then another shot of his gloved hand trying to touch the radio. and both his hands clench in fists. He hits the radio, breaking it (his body is still off screen except for his arm and hand) and then at his feet we see the broken radio. end image]

end image/begin commentary - Framing of two face on panel

Notice: The presumed “camera angle” is dynamic around Two face. We see him from multiple angles -- from both in front and behind. When we are looking at the same thing he's looking at, we are positioned behind him, like we're looking over his shoulder. the close ups on his hand are not positioned as if he's looking at his own hand and we are in his head pay special attention to the panel he's adjusting the radio on and the fourth panel of the page -- we're looking from the side of him or from behind him and under his elbow there.

Two face is our mysterious bad guy. This is how they visually frame a character they want an air of mystery around.

compare that to the framing around tim

[image: first, we are looking through a camera that is continuously taking pictures of Batman as he stumbles down a slide, walks shakily to his batmobile, and takes off. then the camera is lowered (we see the hand that is lowering the camera in the view, it is below us as if we were looking through this person's eyes) and put inside a duffle bag. after that, we see something in the conrer of the screen -- an arm wearing a jacket?) and puddles of blood, then a bike tire -- but not the rest of the bike, which is off panel -- cutting through the puddles of blood. next pages shows a bunch of internal monologue that has been blockedo ut. a series of batman and robin pictures from the newspapers and a picture of batman swinging on a line in a scrap book. (in the first panel, batman and robin looking victorious in pictures, the second panel some headlines: “batman attacks mom” and “batman on the rampage” and “batman collars dope ring”. the third a picture of reporters interviewing gordon captioned with “batman batters bandits”. we can see the hand grabbing this picture as if we were holding it.

then we appear to be behind whoever is on the page, looking at his elbow, as he opens up a drawer, then we're back "inside" his head again as he holds up a photo with the graysons (john, dick, mary) and the drakes (tim and his parents). 3 year old tim is sitting on 12 year old dick's leg. end image]

end image/begin commentary - Framing of  Tim in Panel

okay sorry forgive me but this is fucking fascinating in my opinion. Notice that for two face, most of the close ups on his hands were specifically away from his point of view -- we weren’t positioned where his eyes were, but looking from the outside in.

For tim, we’re almost always looking through his eyes, contrasting to two face

and for tim, even when we were not looking through his eyes, in the very first page, he wasn’t even on panel -- we knew nothing about him, we just saw the edge of his bike. the second page we saw a bit of his arm but we never zoom out far enough to see his whole body and definitely not his face -- even if it would be obscured by shadow.

The first read through, I assumed they were going for an air of mystery, but the contrast between how they handle two face and tim to me makes it clear that they weren’t -- it might have been an unintended side effect, or a bonus effect, but it wasn’t the main purpose. The audience is literally viewing most of the panels Tim is in through Tim’s eyes. He is almost literally an audience avatar.

My general hypothesis here (which I think I am supplying proof of) is that Tim is intended to be an avatar in universe for the “average comic reader" (with some assumptions made by the writer about the average comic reader re: race, age,  gender, socioeconomic class)

For more support of this, let’s see how Tim talks about batman and robin --

[image: 3 comic panels from batman 440 featuring newspaper clippings (in the first panel, batman and robin looking victorious in pictures, the second panel some headlines: “batman attacks mom” and “batman on the rampage” and “batman collars dope ring”. the third a picture of reporters interviewing gordon captioned with “batman batters bandits”. there is internal monologue from (the framing of the scene implies tim drake, but at this point he is unknown to the audience) reading “He seemed happier with dick. Now, I guess it’s like he just doesn’t care. But I want him to care again. I want him to be the batman I remember.” then, we have panels from the new titans 61 dick, as nightwing, is reaching in to talk to tim. he grabs tim's arm. dick says, “I don't believe this. that man raised me. I've gone through hell with him and because of him. Don't lecture me about him until you've cared for him and loved him as long as I have”. dick puts his helmet on and drives off on his bike. before leaving, he says "when jason died, he took robin with him." Tim cries and calls after him: "I... I was only thinking of the team... of what Batman and Robin meant! You can't let a legend die like that, Dick..." end image]

end image/begin comment - Tim’s perception of Batman & Robin

Notice in the first panels (with the newspaper clippings) that Tim is reminiscent, he specifically talks about ‘teh batman and robin’ that he remembers. The narrative puts more significance for tim on the fact that batman is not happy and he is not the batman tim remembers, rather than the fact that batman is beating people nearly to death (tim notices this, and it seems to be a “because batman is so clearly sad” thing -- which this is not I believe intended to be a commentary on tim’s priorities, since the general narrative seems to be using bruce’s ultra-violence as a sign he’s angsty).

Then, compare dick’s reaction to bruce with Tim’s.

Dick’s connection to Bruce is extremely personal. Bruce, Batman, whatever, is his dad and raised him and, like he said, put him through hell sometimes. His connection to Jason’s death is similarly personal.

Tim’s connection to Batman and Robin is extremely abstract and idealized. He is thinking of them as, say, a comics reader might think of them. As a crimefighting team who are not together anymore, and this is bad.

this is just bulletpoint 2 in “tim is supposed to represent the audience”, not intending to be a condemnation of tim.

Thirdly

[image: first, a comic panel from Batman 440 showing a close up of Tim’s hand as he reads a paper and him thinking ‘No! the haly circus is closing?’ then, a series of comic panels from the new titans # 60. first, we see mr haly (off screen) and his cigar (on screen) as haly gestures at a photo of the flying grayson's on the wall. then he says "Yeah. Cost us a fortune and brought down our selling price. You know, sometimes I sit here and just remember the good old days. We were barely breaking even back then, too -- but man, were we having fun. then, we see dick grayson wearing jeans and a red shirt, walking through the circus ground. first, he looks kind of dejected and his hands are in his pockets. the narration box reads "he leaves, trying to reconcile the past and the present. Kids grow up and change. but why should everything do the same? The animal cages stink with waste. Was it always this way? At times like now, he wishes for never-never land." then, dick turns as he hears something and says "Hunh? That scream?" end image]

end image/begin comment - Nostalgia as a Theme

Nostalgia is an EXTREMELY strong theme in this comic. Batman is different, he’s not like he used to be. Haley’s circus is different and at risk, but Dick goes back and meets the performers he used to know -- some are still the same, some are in a more rough situation (alcoholic clown). Someone’s trying to kill his friends in the circus, it’s not really a place of childhood innocence for Dick.  Dick explicitly wishes to be in never-never land (the imaginary far off place where you never grow up)

How things should be -- both in Tim’s mind and Dick’s mind, Haly’s mind  -- is the idealistic past, but we clearly can’t go back to it -- Dick says that the first thing Bruce taught him was how to grow up.

Next bulletpoint:

[image: first are some comic panels showing Tim Drake talking to Dick Grayson and Alfred Pennyworth in wayne manor. Tim says “You know, since I was able to read, I clipped every article I could about Batman and Robin. Heck, I used to fantasize about what it would be like to be robin. I study hard. I get mostly A’s. I work out. I’m no circus acrobat, but I’m pretty good, I guess. But mostly, I read aobut you two. You’ve both been so important to me in so many ways. And when I see that without Robin Batman is going off hte deep end, I know there’s serious trouble.” next, we see Dick stepping forward and talking to Tim. he says "But you haven't told me anything I don't already know. I want the rest of it. All of it." end image]

end image/ begin commentary - textually a fanboy

Textually, Tim is presented as a Batman and Robin fanboy -- that’s how he found Batman’s secret identity (link)

He studies Batman and Robin from afar. He reads about them. Kind of like a comics reader would. he wants to be Robin. Again, superhero comics have some wish fulfillment element and definitely wanting to imagine yourself in a character’s shoes is an appeal for many fans. Tim wanted to imagine himself in robin’s shoes and fantasized about being him -- there’s kind of two layers here, one is the presumed audience member reading tim, wanting to imagine themselves in his shoes as he interacts with his heroes, the other is tim, who wanted to imagine himself in dick’s shoes.

re: the second posted image in this set: Tim hasn’t told dick anything that dick doesn’t know, because tim doesn’t know anything dick doesn’t know -- he is the comic reader here. That’s also why he’s so up-to-date on all of the other comic character’s stuff -- we see him list off all of the teen titans, he talks about jason’s death casually, he knows that alfred is batman’s confident -- he pretty much has all of the information that a reader of DC comics would have if they just got beamed into the DC universe at this point.

[image: first, two panels, one showing tim smiling and thinking "Wow! And I thought Harry did it. Man, Dick is good". tehn we see dick holding some photos and talking ot tim, who is at his bike. dick says "These pictures, two face is back in town, isn't he?" Tim says "You can tell, just from them? Wow! You're even better than I thought." the next scene is in the batcave. Dick is nightwing and is about to leave on his motor cycle, alfred and tim are behind him. tim says "no, not nightwing, Dick. don't you understand -- Batman needs Robin!" he turns to look at alfred and says "Doesn't anyone understand?" Alfred says "Perhaps, young man. Perhaps master Dick understands profoundly -- perhaps that is why he brought you here." tim looks surprised. end image]

end image/begin commentary: The old robin’s approval

another very important thing here: DC plays it as safe as possible with tim’s introduction, trying to make the audience like him, and one is definitely establishing that Tim both looks up to dick and thinks he’s cool (first two panels) and that he has dick’s presumed approval/blessing to be robin (last three panels). it’s also important to note that while tim is portrayed as competent, he never shows up Batman and Nightwing -- he rescues them because two-face lured them into an expert trap, but he doesn’t outdo either of them on fighting or detective work. this has an in universe explanation -- he is 13 years old, just starting out -- and an out of universe explanation -- if he’s not showing up anyone’s favorite character, he is presumably more palatable and less threatening for the presumed reader.

that’s what i mean when I say taht DC played their intro of tim very safe -- he falls in with the established characters, already likes them, is practically already a fan of them with full fanboy connotations. The idealized past is presented as something as desirable, both to the reader and to the characters themselves, and there is a strong current of nostalgia and returning things to how they “should” be with Batman having a robin. Tim voices what many readers may feel: That batman lost his way, that he needs Robin, and he gets to act out those feelings in the comic. the text acknowledges that they can’t just force dick back into it, that people have to grow up, and dick passes the mantle to tim.

overall I think that tim’s employment here was effective, but I look forward to seeing more when he’s allowed to be himself rather than an audience avatar. I understand lots of people like audience avatars and he was wildly popular presumably for those reasons, but I personally found the plotline lackluster at points.

BNHA: something sad (Implosion)

Summary: The last time Katsuki sees Izuku alive the other boy is rushing to save him.  A ‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ aka Izuku dies.

Characters:  Katsuki Bakugo

Fandom: My Hero Academia

WARNINGS! Major Character death, swearing, heavy angst, graphic descriptions of violence

Other parts in this AU: (Something Sad),  (Anger), (Grief)

...

(Katsuki gets a taste of vigilantism)

.

“GET OFF!” Katsuki struggles against the hands pulling him down. Down. Down into never-ending darkness. Ahead of him is Deku, trapped in a swirling cocoon of shifting green sludge. The idiot is smiling, so bloody pleased with himself like he isn’t seconds away from death. He yells and struggles but the shadowy figures holding him are unaffected. All they do is watch with empty eyes.

.

Katsuki flings himself upright, taking several hash breaths. The air is still, the silence oppressive. Around him, the walls of his bedroom loom, the single remaining All Might poster he still has up glaring down at him. He is shaking drenched in sweat, hands twitching, itching, eager to blow something up. Anything to loosen the knot of empty, pointless frustration stuck in his chest. In between breaths, Katsuki rolls out of bed, yanking a jacket from where it is slung over his lopsided desk in the same move. He is not wearing a shirt and he doesn’t want to go out completely exposed.

The front door is deadlocked and needs a key. A change brought about by his continued unsanctioned trips outside.  Luckily, it is not his only exit option. Katsuki yanks open his bedroom window, sticking his head out, scanning the narrow walkway that runs between his building and the next. Nothing moves, the dark space is empty save for the apartment’s collection of communal garbage bins. Quickly, he shimmies out through the narrow opening, twisting so he can drop feet first.

It is four stories down and he lets himself fall, forming twin blasts in both hands to slow his descent.

 He had long theorised that he would be able to increase and decrease his momentum with controlled explosive bursts. Pain shoots through his ankles as he lands in a crouch next to the bins but it’s not bond-breaking, so he guesses his theory is correct.

Katsuki straightens, listening to the muffled sounds of a TV playing somewhere in the building next to him. It doesn’t seem like the sound of his blasts had caught anybody’s attention. The air outside is muggy, still warm from the day's heat. Another beat passes and he is strolling off down the street, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, bare feet silent on the sun-warmed pavement. Slowly, his breathing returns to normal. Now, if he could only find something to distract his dumb brain from re-playing the scene of Deku’s final moments that would be great. He needs something to fuel his anger and rage so he can distract himself from the new empty bitterness, burrowing into his chest.  

The few people he passes are salarymen returning from an evening drinking and they all give him a wide berth. He glares, daring one of them to comment on his appearance or take issue with the fact that he is a middle-schooler roaming the streets at midnight. None of them do. The cowards.

Katsuki is cutting through backstreets, making his way towards one of the busier sections of the city, when a faint groaning sound catches his attention. He freezes, listening, eyes darting over the plain brick walls, scanning the taller office buildings and apartment complexes for the source. There…around the corner… two streets down…there is someone groaning. He stalks forward, following the murmur of angry voices. In between angry muttering is the yelp of a person in pain.

Katsuki breaks into a jog, turning in the direction of the noise, following till he can make out conversation. 

“I told you to pay up old man. You stupid or something.”

“Please. I don’t have any money…”

There is the thunk of something solid hitting flesh. 

Katsuki comes to a stop near the entrance to a shadowed alleyway just big enough to fit a small car. There is a group of three adults in loose clothing, looming over a downed fourth person. A tall lanky man with a metal bat, a shorter guy with bulging arm muscles, and a greasy-haired man holding a knife are focused on an older man who is holding a briefcase over his head like a shield. Thoughts of Deku fade to be replaced with single-minded determination.

“Hey losers,” he strolls out into full view, “How about you fight someone who’s not missing his geriatrics appointment.”

All three would-be muggers, he’ll call them Tiny, Lanky and Grease-Hair, freeze, turning as one to stare at him. In his chest his blood seems to come alive as his heart rate ramps up.

“What the hell?” Tiny looks to his fellow muggers for confirmation, “it’s a kid?”

There are few seconds of disbelieving silence before Grease-Hair shakes off their collective aneurism. “Hey kid! Why don’t you fuck off? This is none of your business.”

“You weak, wannabe-thugs got a problem with the truth?” He smirks, fingers twitching. His response has three, four if you include the Brief-Case man, incredulous looks directed his way.

“You got hearing problems kid? He said to fuck off,” Lanky steps forward, resting his bat across his shoulder in a display of aggression.

Katsuki cracks his knuckles as loudly as possible and settles into a semi-crouch, ready to use his blasts to propel himself forward. It was time to put his newly confirmed quirk ability to the test.

“Guess the standard for criminals around here just really sucks.”

“You got a death wish brat?” Grease-Hair brandishes his knife, coming to stand beside Tall-and-Lanky, “I’ll make you cry so fucking much you shit stain.”

“HA! as if you could!” All at once his anger, excitement and frustration spike into a wave of adrenalin. 

Before Grease-Hair can take another step toward him, Katsuki launches himself forward, propelling himself with as big a blast as he can manage without breaking his arms. As Katsuki is naturally hardier than the average person-a secondly quirk characteristic- the blast ends up being pretty damn big. WHOOOM! It rattles the glass in the adjacent windows. His last coherent thought before he lets his mind succumb to the rush of exhilaration is that he needs to take out one of these guys as quickly as possible to even the odds.

Crunch, is the sound Grease-Hair’s face and nose make when he slams his knee into it. The snap of bones breaking is unnervingly satisfying. Grease-Hair topples over, eyes blank, expression of shock frozen on his face as he takes an express trip into dreamland. The knife clatters on the concrete.

“Holy crap!” The two remaining men offer shouts of alarm. The bat comes hurtling towards his head and Katsuki hurls himself to the side, ignoring the stab of pain that runs up his shoulder when he lands at an awkward angle. He flexes his hands, throwing both arms up in direction of his attacker who is now trying to bring the bat down on his legs.

BOOM!

Fire and smoke erupt between them, throwing them in opposite directions. The bright flash of light and heat provides enough cover for him to roll on his feet. Tiny and Lanky stumble backward and Brief-Case man makes a run for it while they are distracted. In the main street, several car alarms go off. Katsuki, being unaffected by the explosion, recovers first and leaps through the smoke, fists clenched. Moving his arm around in an arching swing, it smacks into Lanky’s head. He barely feels this sting in his wrist and knuckles as the skin on his knuckles break against his teeth. Blood sprays into the air.

It is at this point that Tiny recovers enough to retreat a few paces and make a slashing motion with his hand. Some invisible force slams into Katsuki’s side and he is flung sideward away from Lanky. Pain blossoms in his ribs and he lets off a clumsily blast to slow his momentum. He still hits the wall of the ally hard enough to leave cracks in the brick. Blood fills his mouth from where he has accidentally bitten into the side of his tongue.

A quirk effect? Something invisible that hit hard and had some range to it. Not great for him. He pushes off the wall, crouching, ready to dodge. Tiny drags Lanky to his feet. They are both glaring at him, eyes dark.

He coughs, and, even as the distant realisation that this might not have been a good idea tugs at his thoughts, he grins, “You pieces of trash are weak shit.”

“You’re fucking dead,” Lanky fumes.

Unfortunately- or maybe fortunately- Katsuki never finds out what the two thugs would have done next in retaliation because there is a loud, amplified shout from the ally entrance.  

“FREEZE COMBATANTS.”

A blinding white light flickers on and illuminates the entire alleyway, making him wince and bring an arm up to shield his eyes.

“Shit. Cops.” Both Tiny and Lanky turn, obviously intending to make a run for it, only to realise that the ally ends in a tall stone wall.

“WOULD ALL COMBATANTS TAKE FIVE STEPS AWAY FROM EACH OTHER AND FACE THE WALL!” 

Katsuki glowers in the direction of the megaphone-enhanced voice but can only make out the silhouettes of almost a dozen figures against the spotlight. Well, he’s definitely in shit now.

“ANYONE WHO DOES NOT COMPLY WILL BE SUBDUED BY FORCE!”

“Shit. Damn it.” Both men throw their hands in the air in a display of surrender not willing to try and take on what looked like half of the Musutafu police depo.  Katsuki begrudgingly follows suit, his breath beginning to even out as the rush adrenalin dips now that the fighting was over.

“Turn around and face the wall,” Is shouted once more, “Keep your hands in the air.” The silhouettes begin their approach. And they all awkwardly stand in a line and stare at the grey brick. Around them, blasted fragments of asphalt and ripped up concrete stand as damning evidence of his involvement. Guess he’ll be taking that ‘trip to the station’ after all. No way the bastards were going to let him off with a stern lecture after this.

“I hope you’re happy you psycho shit,” Lanky snaps, drawing his attention and he notes that the man is now missing one of his front teeth,  “Got us all fuckin in arrested.”

Katsuki spits out the blood that has been collecting in his mouth since he hit the wall. It spats on the ground near the man’s feet, “You got beaten up by a middle schooler. I did the criminal underworld a favour getting your weak asses off the street.”

That hits a nerve going by how the man’s face twists into a snarl of rage “Why you little…” Lanky lunges towards him and is immediately blocked by a swarm of police officers who have since surround them and tackle the man to the ground. “HEY, DON’T MOVE!” “GET ON THE GROUND” There is a lot of yelling, swearing, and spitting but the thug is quickly overwhelmed.

“All right, you, the one standing on the left…”

 Katsuki shifts his attention from watching Lanky get wrestled into cuffs to the tired-sounding cop standing a few feet behind him. Is it just him or does the guy sound annoyingly familiar?

“Put your arms down and cross them behind your back…” the sentence trails off.

“Bakugō?”

Katsuki squints over his shoulder at the familiar face of Senior Officer Watanabe. So…not just him. Fucking fantastic. Said familiar face is frozen, surprised, hands half way to opening a set of bulky cuffs.

There is a long exhale, “What have you done now.”

“Done?” Katsuki sneers, “I saw these assholes beating the shit out of some old man so I beat the shit of them instead.” Now the fight is over, that feeling of irritable restlessness is creeping back.

The Senior Officer shakes his head in disbelief, “Geeze kid, this isn’t like setting off explosives in the park, vigilantism is a serious offence.”

“What? I was supposed to do nothing then?” He grits his teeth. There, he can feel it, the anger flaring up again.

“You’re supposed to call for help. You’re lucky we got reports of the altercation and responded as quick as we did. You’re a mess kid.” 

“Tch. I was handling it.”

The man looks at him funny before letting out a long exhausted breath, “Are you going to come quietly so I can get an EMT to look you over or do I have to put you in these suppressant cuffs?”  A pause, “ And where is your shirt … and shoes?”

“Do whatever old man.” Katsuki ignores the second question. 

A firm hand lands on his shoulder, which he tries and fails to shrug off, pulling him off towards the entrance of the ally. The cuffs are handed off to another officer. They pass Tiny and Lanky who are both now sitting cross-legged on the ground, hands secured behind their backs, facing the wall. Grease-Hair, still unconscious, is being fussed over by two men in white and red paramedic uniforms. There is a small crater where Katsuki had let off his larger blast.

“Your handy work I presume?” Watanabe asks.

 “Hell yeah it is.”

That gets another sigh, “This is all going on your record. You do understand that, right?”

It must be the remaining adrenalin that has him laughing, “Like I give a shit.”

*THE* mean-girl-dean-girl's Supernatural reboot MEGAPOST!

I'm gonna stick a little "keeping reading" here because hoooooo boy, this is a very long post.

Let's start with

Plot

Season 1

Dean kills John while they are out on a hunt in a crime of passion, but Dean doesn't remember because he blacked out. Cue Dean going to Stanford to get Sam and tell him "Dad's on a hunting trip... and he hasn't been home in a couple days."

The audience doesn't know what happened to John, but slowly figures it out with Dean and Sam as Dean slowly remembers what happened that night.

The entire first season, the boys are following the trail John left and fighting monsters as well. They find out Dean was with John, Sam realizes Dean has an unreliable memory, they have heart to hearts about their childhood and the fire, they find John's body, "how could you kill Dad?" but maybe Dean didn't kill dad, whooaaaaaa, misdirection.

It was actually good ole yeller eyes (Azazel) and he made it look like Dean killed John.

Okay, now let's move on to the first episode

Not sure how the opening would work, I would like the story of the fire to be revealed over the course of the first season, but maybe the opening scene could be a little bit of an establishing character relationships and backstory, idk, I haven't thought that far yet.

I'm thinking maybe it's like, Dean gets back to a motel room covered in blood and he listens to a voicemail on his phone from John saying he was on a hunt or something, I don't really know lol.

HOWEVER

I do know that after the intro rolls, we get a scene of Sam waking up to his alarm and "Nine to Five" by Dolly Parton starts playing.

Y'all know where this is going.

Cue a montage of Sam's normal Stanford college life (him sitting through lectures, walking through the campus with friends) spliced with scenes of Dean absolutely slaughtering a nest of vampires (or some other monsters, whatever works best.)

But

Now onto

Characters!!! (And descriptions)

Dean Winchester

Some lovely person on this site made edits of Dean with platinum blond hair and it made me feel some kind of way so we're doing that, homie's gonna have platinum blond hair

Side note about the hair, later when the brothers are running from the FBI he dyes it a dirty blond/light brown (insert jackles hair color controversy here) as a disguise.

He also gets tattoos because we were robbed.

Speaking of tattoos, concept: when Dean comes back from Hell, all of his tattoos are gone. His body is a clean slate, devoid of tattoos, scars, etc. So he gets his tattoos done all over again, which he doesn't mind because he made some bad, drunk tattoo decisions in his youth.

(And before you ask, yes, he does get one for Cas, either a bee or Cas's name in enochian, something cute.)

Dean goes to therapy after Sam gets sent to the Cage.

It's actually court mandated because he got in trouble, lol, he would never go to therapy on his own.

Along with the hair, Dean gets to be the grade A twunk we all know he is.

Sam Winchester

His hair gets longer in every scene he's in

No jk, but imagine

King of Microaggressions

Sam starts off like the sweetheart he is in season 1 but in later seasons he starts enjoying killing a little too much...

It's that demon blood, ba-by!!!

He brings up issues of morality to Dean, i.e. killing monsters who aren't hurting anyone. (Yes I know this is contradictory to my previous statement, but these two facets of Sam can and will coexist.)

Sam and Jess's relationship is explored further, meaning we'll need to start with a different inciting incident, but that's fine, I think everyone can agree fridgings are *(thumbs down)*

Sam doesn't truly know what happened the night of the fire until later, and then he understands why Dean is so protective of him.

Jess

She gets to live beyond the first episode

She is also trans

No, I don't feel like I have to explain myself and I won't 💜

She urges Sam to join Dean in a search for their brother, kind of gets pulled into the hunter lifestyle by association lol.

She dies on a rusty nail after fighting vampires on a routine hunt with Sam

No jk!!!

But imagine....

She's amazing and I love her and Lucifer also uses her as leverage against Sam and possesses her because I think that'd be cool.

She supports Sam 100% and also she and Dean are buddies, pals if you will.

She meets Cas Thee El and immediately she Knows, that is a homosexual.

She dies still so that we can have a Saileen Endgame but she's not dying the first episode or in a fridging. Not on my watch.

Castiel

He gets to keep his raw, light-fixture-exploding power.

I want more of that "I pulled you out of hell, I can throw you back in" energy except over dumb shit like Dean not cleaning up after himself.

He looks like a Dilf in every scene he's in, yeah, that's right, dilf with a capital D for *(GUNSHOTS)* *(gets sent to horny jail)*

Claire

She gets pink hair

And more time with Cas

And maybe a nose piercing

Feel like she should be able to kill a couple angels onscreen, punch a couple homophobes

She gets to meet Jack and teaches him swears and fun slang words.

She deserves it.

Jack

I says "that's my baby and I'm proud."

Jack starts off as a baby, but like Amara he grows up super quickly.

Like, baby to 11 year old in a couple days or less.

This is because Jack's emotional age on the show is on par with that of a 5th grader.

It's at this point when he's a young kid that he runs away from the Bunker and shenanigans ensue.

It's also at this point that Dean threatens to k*ll him.

(Still not sure if I want that in my Supernatural (threatened infanticide? In my Supernatural? It's more likely than you think) but we'll see. We'll see.)

Throughout a majority of season 13, Jack is like an 11 y.o. kid

Season 14 he's like a 16 y.o. teenager

Season 15 he's 21, you get the picture.

Listen, I love Alex Calvert a lot. He's great.

But Jack is a child and should be a child.

Kelly Kline

Kelly, baby, stay right where you are, you're perfect.

Eileen

SHE DOESN'T DIE

SHE GETS TO BE IN THE FINALE BECAUSE SHE'S AMAZING AND I LOVE HER.

BLURRY WIFE WHO? I ONLY KNOW SAILEEN ENDGAME!

She teaches Claire and Jack swears in sign-language. Castiel is not impressed.

John

J*hn W*nchester stans, DNI.

He's dead.

We only see him in flashbacks and only sometimes hear his voice in voice overs.

He's not "down the road" from Dean in Heaven, in fact he instead gets to wander around in some Purgatory like Hell for the rest of his time :)

People who get to say "fuck" on the show:

Cas (but only Once)

Jody

Bobby

Now onto other things

I want more of

Ghostfacers

(they need more screentime because I love them)

Dean/Benny

We know they had a thing.

They definitely had a thing.

Demon Dean

Again, I feel like more should've been done with this. All that build up for what, 2 episodes? was not utilized well at all.

Dean's Bisexuality

Straight Dean truthers DNI, my Supernatural is a show about love and being true to yourself

You think Supernatural is a show about 2 straight brothers fighting monsters?

Naw bitch, this is a show about the Gay Experience

He will get to have relations with men on this show.

Of course, only after John dies does he, y'know, display it. Maybe he kisses Cas on his dad's grave just to fuck John over, make him roll in grave.

We all agree John would be/is a homophobe piece of shit, right?

Okay, glad we're on the same page.

Dads

3 men and a baby with Jack is what I'm saying.

I love it when the Trio are father-figures to younger troubled characters they see themselves in, even better if it's like reluctant-but-loving father figure, oh, that trope gets me every time :'^)

Dadstiel and DadDean are my favorites, but I like it when Sam plays "Uncle Sam" to kids too lol.

"Fellas, is it gay to want a tight knit family with your husband, his son, his vessel's daughter, your brother, his wife, your cop mother figure and her wife and their adopted daughters? Asking for a friend."

Garth

Biggest flaw of Supernatural was underutilizing Garth.

I will never not be bitter that Garth was only in like, 7 episodes out of the whole 15 season series.

Every episode with Garth gets immediately 5 times better.

I love Garth.

Follow ups on characters who had entire episodes featured around them and then just... vanished???

This is mostly about Jesse, the magic kid whose imagination ruled an entire town like, his daddy was a demon and nothing came of that kid??? Only one episode about him?? No follow up???

KID CAN MANIPULATE REALITY AND WE'RE NOT GONNA GET A FOLLOW UP ON THAT?????

Uh, there was that one episode with Ennis the guy whose girlfriend was killed by a monster? I think?? Who we never see again, that was weird.

Tamara from season 3, episode 1.

And of course-

Cassie

She was so cool, and then we never saw her again :////

She gets to be a badass.

Religious imagery

As a former Catholic school student who has become for the most part, disillusioned with religion, religious imagery in TV shows like Supernatural make my brain go "brrrrrr."

Fun episodes!!!

Like, after season 6 or so, there's a drop in funny episodes

I'm talking Changing Channels, The French Mistake type stuff. (Scoobynatural is an outlier and should not be counted.)

So anyway

In my version we would have more fun episodes

I'm thinking

GENDER-SWAP EPISODE, BABY!!

(why they didn't do that in the original, we'll never know.)

An episode where Dean gets to wear eyeliner

That's it, end of post.

I want less

Racism

Yeah I feel like this is self explanatory, nearly every reoccurring character in SPN is white, and black side characters normally die in the episode they first appear in, or they'll be featured as a villain (Uriel, Raphael, Billie, etc)

Also there's a lot of... uh... asian fetishism featured in the show (what with "Busty Asian Beauties) that's really gross, also Kevin was a bit of a stereotype...

Also also it's super yucky how they kill the gods from other religions like???? Uh??? That's super disrespectful, let's not do that????

I know Supernatural is like, inherently racist because monsters are a separate race that are seen as some dangerous "other" that must be eradicated by hunters in a form of genocide-

Okay we won't get into that but

Still

Stop killing all your POC

Fridgings/Unecessary murders of female characters

I know Supernatural starts with a fridging, so this will be a hard thing to remedy, but

One death that really pissed me off was the death of Charlie

Yeah, that was pointless and we're not doing that. Charlie gets to live and be an awesome aunt to Jack.

And also Claire

Charlie Bradbury Superiority

Charlie and Garth get to meet because they're nerd/geek solidarity.

British Men of Letters

I fucking hate these guys

They're "litcherally" the worst.

The worst part is that the actors they have playing the British AREN'T. EVEN. BRITISH.

And you can tell

Uh, and that's all for now, I'll add more later.

tag list for people who liked my "if this post gets one like I'll post my SPN reboot masterpost" post.

@darianyunidi @sarasidlesaid @crazybananaalpaca @playfulpanthress @ultfreakme @fififeelsmellow @heller-char @luna8eaton @princessmeganfire @insanebot109 @queenofnightsnow @mongoose-underthehouse

Thank you for the support, hope the wait was worth it.

Yancy x Illinois - First Impressions Aren’t Always the Best

I decided to try properly writing Yanois, just to see how I’d manage it. After rewatching Illinois’ scenes, I think he would get on the nerves of the Yancy I write at first.

Word Count 2,122

(Read more because Illinois talks so much...)

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Happy Trails Penitentiary was renowned for its rehabilitation initiatives. They had a wide variety of classes and visitors to help prisoners. Educational courses, chances to learn new skills, pen pal projects. Many prisoners would never have the opportunity for such experiences, and it was an integral part of helping them prepare for a better life outside of prison when their sentence was finished.

There was one visitor that most prisoners in Yancy’s ‘Gang’ adored. His name was Illinois, a renowned adventurer and archaeologist. Between his job in the university and research trips, he only had time to visit once every few months. It worked in his favour, as those that wanted to visit were able to to hear the various stories that Illinois was more than happy to tell. Not only that, it would encourage the small ‘fan club’ among the younger prisoners.

It was one of the few events that Yancy avoided. Something about Illinois rubbed him the wrong way. He was so arrogant and cocky, acting like the world revolved around him. It wasn’t an act, either. Yancy had spotted Illinois speaking to the Warden on his first visit two years earlier, and he acted the exact same way as he did in the talk that happened that day. After that, Yancy decided he didn’t want anything to do with the adventurer. But if Illinois were to ever become an inmate? Yancy would make sure Illinois had the snot beaten out of him within the first week.

Unfortunately, a lot of the Gang were of the opposite view, especially those around Yancy’s age. To them, Illinois walked straight out of an adventure movie and lived the ideal life. What prisoner didn’t dream of going exploring in uncharted territories? It meant that they would frequently share Illinois’ tales in rec yard when he came to visit. Yancy would roll his eyes, but keep quiet. Let them have their fun.

Today was the day that Illinois visited the prison. It had been over three months since the last visit, so there was an excited buzz among individuals in the Gang. Yancy spent the morning bracing himself. There was a talk after lunch that the others would go to, which would mean the rest of the afternoon and evening would be nothing but historical chatter and “Illinois is so cool!”. He would grumble, but he would keep that to himself. It wasn’t fair to deflate their excitement. He went to the library, found some random book and focused on that for the day. Then, once they had their excitement, it would die down and Yancy could enjoy more casual conversation.

Which was the plan… Until Bam-Bam pleaded for him to go to the last talk of the day. It turned out that his shift clashed with the talk everyone else they knew went to, and he didn’t want to go alone. Begrudgingly, Yancy closed the book, returned it to the shelf, and followed Bam-Bam. A flaw of being a loyal friend was knowing when to swallow your pride and do something you would rather not do.

-

When you go to something with low expectations, it can be incredibly difficult to feel the time was used in a worthwhile manner. Some might have memories of a teacher they hated, or a family gathering they had been dreading. This was a similar position to what Yancy found himself in. One of the ‘classrooms’ had been adjusted slightly to allow various displays to take center stage, with the chairs in neat rows in front of it. Bam-Bam and Yancy claimed two seats at the back, allowing the greaser to slouch in the chair with his arms crossed. Then, once more prisoners had arrived, the talk began.

On and on Illinois went, droning endlessly in that slow drawl. Yancy wished he had a TV remote to speed up the talking a fraction. Was Illinois focused on making sure everyone could understand him, or did he want to prolong the joy of hearing himself talk? It might have been more tolerable if Bam-Bam wasn’t genuinely engrossed in the lecture. They could have made amusing comments throughout. Instead, Yancy was stuck. Sure, history was interesting, but Illinois really drove home the stereotype of boring history teachers. The ‘adventures’ even sounded cliché and fake. Maybe he should have taken the book with him after all...

A painfully slow half hour passed. Once the talk was over, Illinois would literally open the floor to the other prisoners. The chairs would be pushed aside and those that wanted to look at the items Illinois brought were welcome to do so. Yancy was dragged along to view the pieces. Most of the articles were dated to be approximately eight thousand years old. What caught Bam-Bam’s attention was a stone carving that vaguely resembled a cat.

“Ahhh, I see the ‘White Jaguar’ has caught your attention.” Yancy had to repress a shudder at the smooth voice interrupting their own questions back and forth. Illinois stepped over, resting an arm against the perspex container. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she? A miracle we even found her in the first place. She was why I wasn’t able to visit like I said I would last month.” Bam-Bam’s eager question had Illinois chuckle and shake his hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m sure you two gentlemen have much better things to do than hear about how I nearly lost my right hand in my most recent adventure.” When Bam-Bam insisted otherwise, Illinois smirked (and Yancy nearly gagged).

“If you insist. While on our recent dig, I noticed one of the ruins had a floor panel that looked a little different from the rest. It took a little persuasion, but I got that pesky stone up. There, sprawled out before me, was a staircase leading down into the earth. I picked up one of the torches and made my way down. Slowly, I delved deeper into the darkness. One step gave way under me to set off a series of poison-dipped darts, but I was able to dodge them all without breaking a sweat.” Illinois continued, dramatically regaling every single trap that he encountered until he found the White Jaguar. When taking everything around it, he surmised that the owner of the house had been a thief. The jaguar motif was familiar, as he had noticed something similar in a nearby cave that had been repurposed at the time as a sacred spot.

“- Now, this heart of this cave was still guarded by ancient jaguar spirits. They rattled the large statues as I approached, obviously sensing the treasure I carried. In the middle, there was a jaguar’s head carved out of stone. Its jaw was open wide and I couldn’t help but feel as though it was just the right spot for this precious lady. But then, skeletons of what I assume were magic users from an era long gone by pounced and tried to wrestle the statue off me, but I was too fast for them. At last, I reached the carved head, put the White Jaguar in the mouth… and the stone head moved, trapping my arm in a ferocious bite!” He gestured to the cloth wrapped around his right wrist. It was unwrapped just enough to show the healing bite marks. “It had the strength to bite it clean off, but relented when it realised what I had done by offering my arm as blood payment to return -”

“Wait wait wait.” Yancy’s interruption had Bam-Bam elbow him, but it didn’t stop the objection. “That can’t be right. If youse managed to bring this back to where it’s meant to be, why the fuck is it here?”

“An excellent question. This is my recreation of it. I am no thief. I return artefacts to where they belong. Archaeology has a rotten connection with thievery, and I try to rectify the mistakes of my predecessors.”

“So then this entire thing could be bullshit!” Yancy scoffed. “Bam-Bam, this guy just got bitten by someone’s dog and has made this pile of baloney to hide that.”

“Are you accusing me of being a liar?”

“Well, I ain’t calling you a ‘truther’, that’s for sure!”

Yancy was ready for a proper argument. In fact, he was hoping for one. Instead… Illinois laughed, and it wasn’t that typical ‘cocky chuckle’. It was a bright, genuine laugh. He could almost see Bam-Bam go starry-eyed at such a rare moment. Typical Yancy. Getting more attention from Illinois when he wanted to rile him up.

“I suppose it all does sound rather suspicious when you put it that way. Let me show you something.” Illinois gestured for the pair to follow him toward a display of photographs. Instead of pointing to these, he instead reached for his briefcase. A small photo album was pulled out. Yancy noticed that it was dated three months prior. While Illinois flipped through it, both prisoners could see what looked like an area that had been dug up. It matched the pictures in front of them of an excavation site. At last, Illinois found what he was looking for.

“One Guardian Jaguar, complete with the White Jaguar in its mouth. As you can see, the teeth have fresh blood on them. It was an… Oddly tranquil sight, despite the unfortunate situation.”

“So then why act like these are the real deal? People just take youse’s word for it?”

“Normally those that attend my talks know that what I show are my artistic recreations for purely educational purposes. I suppose I do take for granted that those who attend here are invested regulars.” Illinois gave a small shrug. “It’s an easy mistake to forget to remind people who might be new to my talks. I’m sorry if you thought I was a fraud, but I am the real deal. Too good to be true, yet here I am.”

“Yeah yeah, ‘sucks that I’m perfect as shit’, I get it. Least you knows not to make that mistake again.” Yancy rocked back on his heel with the intention of turning and walking away.

“Now now. I can’t let you walk off like that. Take this.” Another item was pulled out of his briefcase. “I made this smaller model of the White Jaguar as a ‘first draft’. I was intending on using it as motivation to my first-year students but… I think it should stay here with you.” Illinois took the opportunity to reach for Yancy’s hand. The small clay model was gently placed in it before Illinois curled Yancy’s fingers over it to keep it in place. His hands stayed where they were as he continued, “We think the White Jaguar was a symbol of good fortune. Perhaps it might bring you some good luck.” He smiled at Yancy, only to have the moment broken by the guard announcing that there were five minutes before the prisoners had to return to their cells for the afternoon count. Yancy took the chance to quickly leave the room without as much as a ‘goodbye’. At least his friend, who introduced himself as Bam-Bam, quickly thanked Illinois before darting out.

A few more questions were asked of him by other prisoners and curious staff; and then it was time to tidy up to bring everything back to the university. It was only when he reached the White Jaguar model did Illinois hesitate. There was something about that abrasive prisoner he couldn’t put his finger on. Was it because he seemed uninterested in the adventurer? Or was there something else? It was a rare moment that Illinois wished he’d had an excuse to chat to the prisoner longer. Maybe not here, but somewhere quieter. Just the two of them.

Huh… Was this what an attraction felt like? He joked about others falling in love with him so often, he wasn’t sure if this was payback for never returning interest in others. He was drawn toward a prisoner that seemed keen to dismiss his hard work and reputation. And worse! Illinois didn’t even know his name!

Then again… A good adventurer always loves the thrill of a mystery. Maybe he could try and find that prisoner next time he visited. Now that the university was open again, he’d be able to drop by more frequently…

--

For what it was worth, Yancy also had a mystery on his hands.

Namely, how to get away from Bam-Bam - who would not SHUT UP about their prolonged conversation with Illinois - and half the gang - who were incredibly jealous Yancy got a gift from the Illinois!

He dropped his head against the chow hall table with a low ‘thunk’. This was the opposite of getting the others to stop talking about Illinois around him!

Promise (Dad!Kirishima x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Kirishima was your first love and when you had to leave, he fucked up but he is going to win you back!

"Daddy, wake up!" when he opened his eyes, Mizuki was sitting on top of him, squeezing his cheeks. "Daddy come on! You are gonna be late for work!" Kirishima finally managed to open his eyes and looked at his daughter, she was already in her white dress that had daisies on it. He smiled at his daughter and looked at her beautiful crimson eyes. Her hair color was pink just like her mothers, her teeth werent like his but her eyes were just like his. "Im up, sunshine." He smiled and Mizuki gave him a kiss on the cheek "Im waiting for you in the kitchen, daddy." then she left, she was just 7 but she was acting like an adult, she was always so mature but kind and loving at the same time. Kirishima looked at the door that her daughter closed and sighed he quickly took a shower and got dressed. Then he looked at the time and gasped 7.45 am ?! he had 15 minutes then his phone rang and he looked at the contact info "Y/N" his heart started to beat faster. You were his one and only L/N Y/N, his highschool crush... His dream was becoming a hero and having you by his side, now he was a hero and you were always by his side but thats not how he wanted to and he was going to change that.

-

-

-

Everything happened in your second year in U.A, your father was running a business in America and you were staying with your mother in Japan but your father wanted his family next to him. You got in an argument with him, your mother knew how hard you worked , you were a successful student, Mr.Aizawa was hopeful about your future, life was perfect with your loving friends, your high grades but he was the main reason why you worked so hard. His name was Kirishima Eijiro, you had a crush on him since the first year of U.A high. Your sunshine... Everyone knew what was happening between you two and your friends supported you till the end. One day when you were listening to Present Mic's lecture the door of your classroom suddenly opened and Principal Nezu called you, you could feel the confused looks your classmates gave you. You quietly stood up and followed him, Kirishima was worried. When Principal Nezu opened the door of his office you saw your father sitting there with your mother, at first you were so happy to see them "Father! You came back from America?!" He smiled, but then he got serious, Principal told you to sit down and started to tell you that your parents were going to move to America and they wanted you to come with them. You were furious you talked about this before and told them that you wanted to stay at U.A but now Principal Nezu was trying to explain that people need to make hard decisions sometimes. You started to cry... You were going to leave everything behind, what about him? Your sunshine? Then the door opened and Mr.Aizawa appeared, he wasnt pleased by the information of you leaving, he tried to convince your parents but it didnt work. When you heard the bell rang you got up, bowed to Principal Nezu and started to walk towards your classroom then you heard All Might, he was jogging towards you, he gave you a hug and told you to work harder. He knew how determined and strong you were "Young L/N, never give up, we trust you especially Mr.Aizawa." you gave a weak smile and started to walk again, he sighed and tought *You are strong L/N.* when you arrived your classmates immediately walked towards you, you tried to explain that you needed to leave for your fathers job and all of a sudden you broke down... You were crying while Momo was patting your back and Uraraka was hugging you. Thats when Kirishima stepped in the classroom. He saw you and his eyes widened, your red eyes bc of crying, shiny tears... He tought that you got hurt, he ran towards you and kneeled in front of you. Your body acted on its own, you wrapped your arms around his neck and cried. "E-eijiro..." This was the first time that you called him by his first name, his eyes met yours "I dont w-wanna..." you were trying to speak between your loud sobs, everyone got more worried. "Hey... Its okay Y/N, take your time." He smiled and squeezed you. "I dont wanna leave..." He leaned back and looked at your eyes "You dont wanna leave?" he asked, you started to explain everything that happened, when you finished his brows were furrowed, he clenched his teeth, the love of his life were... Leaving? "W-what? You are going to live there?" You nodded and looked at the floor. No one wanted you to leave. After packing your things in your dorm, everyone was gathered in the common room to give you warm hugs, even Bakugou was there. When you hugged everyone, you looked at your sunshine... His eyes were glued to the floor you knew he was trying so hard to not to cry, you walked towards him and took his hands, he didnt wanted to cry while you were leaving "My sunshine..." his eyes widened, you never called him that. Yes, he knew that both of you were crushing on eachother but it was just flirting, shy smiles and gettin protective. Tears started fall from his eyes "How can you look so manly and beautiful while crying?" You smiled and his cheeks were getting warmer. "I promise you, i will work hard for you then im going to come back." He looked at you, you were tearing up too... "Y/N..." his voice was trembling, "Im going to work hard too... Im going to be the strongest so please count on me!" his tears were falling to his shirt, you smiled between your tears and hugged him. Everyone was silent it was like a scene from a sad movie. Kirishima closed his eyes, then he felt something soft on his cheek, when he realized that you pecked his cheek, his eyes started to shine and a small smile appeared on his lips. "Thats better." you said and smiled back. "Keep texting me ok?" he asked and you nodded then you took your suitcase and left the building. Ofc he cried...

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Then everything started to get complicated, you were attending to a prestigious school in America but it wasnt lively like U.A everyone looked so cold and fake. You finished highschool with high grades and the texts you sent to Kirishima started to get shorter and shorter. He understood that you were having a hard time with college and stuff so he respected you but being so far away from you was hard for him. When you felt like you were going to give up you always remembered the promise that you made *Im going to work hard then come back.* that promise always boosted your energy. It was the same for Kirishima, he always tought about the promise he made and worked harder to become a strong hero.

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One day, when you were taking a walk with your mother at a park, you accidentally dropped your phone in the lake and bought a new phone, your contact list was gone but luckily the girls wanted your number by messaging your social media accounts. The texts that you send to Kirishima were pretty short and propably once a month, it was the same for him. When you were talking with Uraraka on the phone she accidentally let something slip from her mouth and that crashed you. "Y/N look, you know having a long distance crush is very difficult and since both of you have goals you cant start a relationship but Kirishima has female friends and they are kinda affecting him..." You were broken, Uraraka panicked bc of the silence and you asked "Who?" she gulped and said "Mina..."  you froze, Uraraka explained that theres nothing going on between them but she had some suspicions about Mina having a crush on him and she told you that Mina loved you but feelings couldnt be controlled. Their relationship was affecting him bc they were close but you were so far away... Your college was in America and your father didnt let you leave, you really needed to see your friends, ask about Mina and Kirishima's relationship, Kiri was your sunshine and you trusted him. After gathering your courage you decided to call Mina...

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Kirishima was sitting on the couch with Kaminari and Bakugou, Mina was in the kitchen and Sero was sitting on the floor. "Come on Mina, we already chose the movie!" Kaminari yelled. Mina came with a bowl of popcorn and looked at the guys. "Umm where am i gonna sit?" she asked, Kirishima was sandwiched between his friends. "Tch, on the floor." Bakugou replied with a cold tone. When you left, Bakugou made a silent promise to himself to support his buddy but Kiri being close with Mina was pissing him off because he knew you were working hard for him, Bakugou didnt told anyone but he was texting you sometimes and you always told him that you were working hard and trying to come back, he felt so mad. While you were working your ass off, Kiri was having fun with Mina and making things complicated for both of them. Bakugou once said "What are you trying to do, shitty hair? Dont you love L/N or somethin' why are you letting Racoon eyes flirt with you? If you want to be a hero keep your promises first." He didnt mean to be harsh but someone needed to warn Kiri. Kirishima sighed and said "Dont be rude bakubro!" and smiled. Mina started to push Kaminari and he sat on the floor then she sat next to Kiri and put her legs on his lap, Bakugou made an unpleased noise. Just then, Mina's phone rang and it was on the floor, Kaminari quickly looked at the contact info and said "It's Y/N!" the blood drained from her face and Kirishima's heart stopped. Mina quickly grabbed the phone and excused herself. Kirishima was frozen on the couch, Bakugou looked at his friend and sighed... Mina quickly closed the door and answered "Hello Y/N?" when you heard her voice your heart started to beat faster, you didnt wanted to accept the fact that she was gettin intimate with him. "Mina, i need to ask you something." Mina gulped normally your voice was always energetic but now it was irritated and cold. "Are you dating with Kirishima?" her heart stopped the next question only made her panic more "Do you like him?" her throat was dry, hands were cold and mind was spinning. Kaminari got up and started bite his nails he looked at Kirishima, his eyes were on the floor, his was avoiding eye contact. Bakugou smirked, he was proud of you but he was mad at the same time how could something like this happen? You guys made a promise and Kiri didnt even bother to tell you that he was flirting with Mina. "Uh... Should i go and check on her?" Sero asked. "Shut up and sit." Bakugou replied then they heard Mina scream and she got louder, they all panicked except Bakugou. On the other hand your voice was trembling with anger "WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME THAT YOU WERE FLIRTING WITH HIM?!" you were yelling at this point "WHILE YOU GUYS WERE GETTING LOVEY DOVEY, I WAS TRICKING MYSELF WITH STUPID ASS FAKE PROMISES THAT WE MADE!" you started to cry... Mina was only gettin louder cuz she didnt had the right to defend herself then she hung up on you. You broke down and started to cry, on the other line Mina started to tear up too. 10 minutes later Mina came out of the room 4 pair of eyes were looking at her with curiousity. She didnt said anything and started the movie then Bakugous phone got a notification and he got up. It was from you, he sighed and started to head towards the kitchen but Kirishima stopped him, Kiri had an anxious look in his eyes but it looked like regret too. "Watch the god damn movie im coming shitty hair." then he left, Kiri was looking at the TV but his mind was a complete mess he was making theories. Bakugou opened his phone and saw your name on it, he sighed and looked at the message that you sent to him.

You: Bakugou, i called Mina, i know i promised you that i was going to be strong and work hard but i cant take it anymore. Mina confirmed the fact that she was having some sort of thing with Kiri and i dont know,i feel so weak. 

Bakugou: Dont feel weak bc of people, never. If you wanna make them regret it, stay strong.Dont forget that. Shitty Hair is the one who broke the promise isnt he? Why do you feel weak, he should be the one who's feeling weak. Stupid y/n what am i gonna do with you huh?

You: Bakugou, thank you. Im gonna get stronger and when i come back, lets eat some spicy food, ok?

A small smile appeared on his face and he sighed.

Bakugou: You better get stronger, its a promise now. Dont chicken out cuz when you say spicy i expect something spicy. 

You looked at your phone and smiled, having someone strong like Bakugou as a friend was such a blessing. Bakugou on the other hand sat on the couch and he had a genuine smile on his face. His friends started to look at him with surprised eyes and he gave them a 'the fuck you want?' look then continued to watch the movie.

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One year later...

You opened your mail box and saw an invitation, you looked at it, it was written 'Midoriya x Uraraka Wedding Invitation' on it, “THEY ARE GETTING MARRIED?!” You screamed and called Uraraka, she said that she really wanted to see you on her wedding with Deku. Everyone missed you so much and since it was an important event your father would porpably let you go. You quickly asked for permission and he said yes. You quickly looked for a dress then found a gorgeous royal blue dress and silver earings with a necklace. Your father quickly booked you a room from a luxurious hotel and you packed your things. Your flight was comfortable, when you came to the airport you saw Momo and Shoto, Momo ran towards you with teary eyes and hugged you, Shoto gave you a warm hug and took your suitcase. Your friends knew about the fight with Mina so they made a plan to keep you away from eachother. You were going to be with Momo, Jiro and Uraraka while she was going to be with Tsuyu and Hagakure for the most of the time. Shoto and Momo dropped you at your hotel and gave you some time to relax. You quickly took a shower and layed on the queen sized bed. The wedding was at 7.00 pm so you set an alarm to 5.00 pm and decided to take a nap. A phone call woke you up, it was from Jiro she asked you if were ready or not and you quickly started to dress up then you got a call from the front desk saying that you have a visitor. It was Momo, when she saw you she let out a gasp "Y/N, you are beautiful!" you smiled and she started to design your hair. Then you helped Momo wih her make up and quickly left the hotel, Shoto was waiting outside. When you got in the car, your stomach started to burn Kirishima was going to be there... After the fight you didnt had a conversation with him and blocked him. Momo sensed your anxiety and held your hand.

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Kirishima didnt had a clue, he didnt know that y/n was coming, so many things happened in a year. He asked Mina if she wanted to be his partner for the rest of his life but he didnt proposed, he tought it was too early and he couldnt get someone out of his mind 'y/n'. Whenever he tought about her, his heart started to beat faster and faster. His mind was a mess, he was trying so hard to move on with Mina but his heart was always telling him the opposite. He wore a tuxedo and put a crimson rose on his suit. Bakugou was gettin ready at the bathroom. Then he saw his bro's phone on the bed, a notification popped up, he quickly grabbed the phone, then he saw it. 'Message from y/n: Baku im on my way with Mo and Sho!" He stopped breathing and threw the phone to the bed. Just then Bakugou came out and when he saw a pale Kiri, he got worried. "The hell Shitty Hair? You saw a murder or somethin?" Kiri gulped and shook his head. "Hahaha, you are funny bro, come on lets go!" he started to make new theories his best friend and y/n were... talking? Were they...? No. Bakugou wouldnt do that to him. Bakugou grabbed his phone and looked at the message, he smiled to himself and left the house with Kiri.

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"Y/N!" Ojiro walked towards you, "Ojiro-san! Oh, its been so long how are you?" you started to chat and he showed you the table that reserved for class A. When you walked towards the table you saw your friends Kaminari, Tokoyami, Hagakure, the others and... Mina. You made eye contact for a second then she averted her eyes. "Y/N, you look amazing!" Hagakure said. You thanked then had a little chit-chat with her and Tsuyu. "Uh, Kaminari? Where is Bakugou?" You asked and some of your friends looked at you. Kaminari knew that you were close with Bakugou in some way bc he accidentally saw some of your texts and he didnt know that Bakugou could be soft. He was relieved that someone was supporting you. "Dont worry, he is on his way!" he said. Then Momo came and took a seat next to you, all of a sudden she took your hands in hers and you looked at her. "Y/N, calm down and slowly stand up okay?Bakugou is here... with Kirishima." Your eyes widened, Momo saw your expression and squeezed your hand. You stood up turned around and your eyes immediately met with crimson ones but luckily it was Bakugou's and you gave a sigh of relief. He smirked and walked towards you, you smiled. "Hey, how are you Bakugou?" he snorted "I should be the one asking you that." oh Bakugou and his attitude. Then your eyes drifted to his left and you stopped breathing, Bakugou quickly saw the change on your face and turned around, Kirishima was standing behind him with wide shiny eyes. You quickly averted your eyes and sat down. Bakugou grabbed Kiri's wrist and they sat down. Your friends were chatting to ease the tension but you were looking at your hands in your lap a waiter came and offered you some wine, when you started to sip it Mina started to tell Tsuyu about her wedding plans and you stopped on your tracks. Bakugou was watching you carefully. "Kiri and i are thinking of something simple, he still thinks its early but we have plans for our future." what... future...? Everyone went silent and Tsuyu nodded at Mina, then she turned at you and asked "By the way Y/N how was America? Are you seeing someone at the moment, you are pretty succesful and beautiful." Your father introduced you to his business partners sons but you always tought about Kirishima. *Ok then lets play dirty Kiri.* you tought and started to talk "Well, America is good but Japan has a special place in my heart, also yeah there are some guys that my father introduced me to and im not so sure yet but there is one..." you trailed of and gave a side glance to Kirishima, he was directly looking at you. Well you lied, you refused all of those guys but you wanted Kirishima to get hurt (emotionally ofc) "Oh my, foreign guys are interesting arent they?" Hagakure giggled and you decided to go with the flow so you nodded and giggled back. Kirishima was squeezing his fists, he hid them under the fancy table and clenched his teeth. He had a big ache in his heart. Then all of a sudden someone touched your shoulder and you turned "Hey, hey, hey Y/N!" your eyes widened "Fatgum!" you stood up and hugged him, he patted your shoulder. "How's your father doing huh? When are you going to move here?" he asked, you smiled and huffed "Well he wants me to work at his hero agency." Fatgum furrowed his brows and opened his mouth "You know Y/N, the crime rate in America is higher than Japan, you have a strong quirk and i really need someone like you in my agency, why dont you work with me?" Kirishima's breath hitched in his throat and quickly looked at you "Oh, well if my father lets me then why not?" Kiri's eyes shined so Fatgum's "He is my old friend dont worry i will convince him!" he laughed and left than you sat down and met with Momo's confused face. She whispered in your ear "Y/N, Kirishima is going to work at his agency..." Your eyes widened then you started to think, you were going to accept his offer and took revenge from Kirishima, he was going to see your face everyday and you were going to do everything you could to make him suffer.  "Its okay Momo, i got this." You winked at her and she gave a worried smile. Then the lights go off and you saw Uraraka and Midoriya, they danced and started to talk with the guests, Uraraka quickly saw the table for Class A and ran towards you, you stood up and hugged her "Y/N, you came!" she was getting emotional so do you, "I cant miss this now, can i?" you both giggled and Midoriya appeared "Welcome back Y/N!" you smiled and said "I'm home..." then everyone at your table looked at you with wide eyes, you just made your decision in 5 minutes, you were going to stay at Japan. "Y-you are staying here?!" Uraraka almost shouted and you nodded. "Well, i saw Fatgum and he made an offer so... Guess im movin here!" Uraraka started to tear up and you hugged her "Hey! No crying, beautiful lady!" she laughed and squeezed you tighter. They continued to talk with other guests and Jiro turned at you "We should celebrate this Y/N!" Tsuyu and Momo nodded. "Hey, what about us?" Kaminari whined. "No boys allowed!" Jiro frowned at him. After the wedding Shoto dropped you at your hotel and you quickly made a phone call, your father answered the phone and you started to tell him about the wedding and Fatgum, when he heard his close friends name he laughed and started to listen carefully, you told him about his offer and he went silent, he told you that he needed to talk with Fatgum and hung up. You sighed and layed on your bed.

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Two years later...

You woke up and took a quicky shower, it has been two years and you started to work at Fatgums' agency, he always supported you and told you to do your best. Magically, he managed to convince your father telling him the rising crime rate at America and how Japan is safer. So many things happened in two years Kirishima and Mina got married, Uraraka was pregnant and you were pretty popular in the agency, everyone was talking about how strong you were but it didnt matter because it has been 5 months... Kirishima and Mina were married for 5 months and it hurted like hell ofc you didnt showed up at their wedding and Uraraka told you that the tension at the wedding was pretty thick but that was none of your business. You quickly got in your car and drove towards the agency, you only talked with Kirishima during the missions and it was obvious that he wanted to talk to you but you always took a step back and ignored him, whenever you called his name bc of paperwork, his eyes shined like a little boys. It was weird, he was married so why was he making things complicated for you?

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Kirishima was getting ready for work but he didnt wanted to go, yesterday was terrible. He was having problems with Mina since the day they got married. Mina was always attacking him with "You dont love me Eijiro!" and "Do you still love her?!" or "If you are confused why did you wanted to marry me?!". But yesterday was terrible. When he came home from work, Mina was sitting at their couch with a plastic thing in her hand, she told Kiri to sit and started to explain that she got... pregnant. Kirishima loved kids but they didnt had a healthy relationship, he was still questioning himself about his feelings and you were working at his agency. He got up and washed his face and Mina started to cry. Ofc they were going to have the child but Kiri was sure now. He never loved Mina, he always wanted a child from you but that was not going to change the fact that the baby in Mina was his and he promised himself to love the baby no matter what. He quickly grabbed his keys and left the apartment. When he arrived at the gate of his agency and parked his car, he saw you. He was trying so hard to melt the ice wall that you created. He quickly jogged towards you "G-good morning!" you looked at him and nodded when you started to walk he followed you and when he opened his mouth to start a conversation his stomach growled loudly. You quickly raised an eyebrow and his face turned red he quickly chuckled and scratched his head you looked at the paper bag in your hand and opened it, he curiously looked at you and you handed him a muffin and a cookie. "F-for me?" he asked, you replied "What do you think?" he smiled and took it "Thank you..."

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You quickly sat at your desk and started to write some stuff then a woman came "Lady Magma, the interns are waiting for you." that was your hero name 'Lady Magma' Your quirk was Lava, if you touch an object you can melt it or if you stare at something and activate your quirk it starts to melt and turns to lava. "Im coming." you stood up and left. Kiri looked at your desk and an idea popped in his head. When lunch time came you noticed that you forgot your phone on your desk. When you approached your desk you saw a paper bag and opened it, there was some muffins and donuts in the bag. You raised your eyebrow and noticed the little note 'Enjoy the muffins -Kirishima' You gulped and took a donut, when you had a bite you noticed the falling tears from your eyes. Kiri left early from work and started to head towards Bakugou's house, he sent him a quick text and Bakugou told him that he was on his way. His hands started to tremble just when he was trying to make it up to you, Mina was telling him that she was pregnant. He needed Bakugou's advice. When Bakugou came he saw Kiri sitting on a chair, his hands were pulling his hair. "What happened again, Shitty hair?" he asked but when he saw his friends eyes filled with tears he quickly took of his coat. "Oi Kirishima, why are you crying?" he sat down and Kiri opened his mouth "Mina is pregnant." Katsuki's eyes widened, he didnt know what to say bc Kiri didnt looked happy. "Just when im trying to fix things with Y/N..." the tears continued to fall and thats when Bakugou snapped, Kirishima was his best friend but he needed to be realistic. "How are you trying to fix things with her? Kirishima you broke your promise, you know that right? She trusted you and you wounded her! Then you got married with racoon eyes and you expect your marriage to be good, you dont even love her! Stop living in a dreamland and be realistic for a second, Y/N moved on, even if she still loves you, she managed to move on. You made a mistake so stop playing with her mind and feelings. She is trying to forget you and since your 'WIFE' is pregnant she is going to get sad again, thats enough let Y/N breathe." Then he got up and poured a glass of water. "I dont know what to do..." he looked at Bakugou and sighed. "What do you feel? If you dont love racoon eyes why are you sticking with her? Think carefully Kirishima, im going to take a shower." Then he left. Kirishima closed his eyes and started to think "What do i feel...?" He knew everything, he knew that he was still in love with you but it was too late, he didnt even explained himself in the past but he wasnt happy and he wanted to be happy so he was going to listen to Bakugou.

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When he got home Mina was eating cookies and watching a movie. He sat down and closed the TV, Mina looked at her "Mina, we need to talk." her eyes widened bc of Kiri's serious tone. "What are we gonna talk about?" she asked, her stomach started to turn. "I want a divorce." he looked at her and waited for a response then Mina started to shout "Are you going to leave me alone with our child?! I knew it, you never loved me!" Kiri grabbed her arms and pulled her in a hug "Im not going to leave you with our child, im going to love our child no matter what but we cant stay married Mina and you know it. Im tired, i dont wanna lie to myself anymore." her sobs got louder "B-but Eiji, i loved you!" Kirishima took a step back to meet her eyes and said "Mina, lets be honest to ourselves from now on."

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You were drinking some coffee with Momo and Uraraka, it was a quiet evening and your friends brought some cakes to eat. When Momo took a sip from her cup she started to speak "Y/N, we heard that Mina is pregnant." You stopped chewing your cake and looked at her, they got married and it was natural that they were having a child but it still hurted. You wanted to built a family... With him... "Oh, congrats." Uraraka and Momo shared a nervous look then Uraraka continued "But... They are getting a divorce." You started to cough and choke on your cake. "Oh god!" Momo quickly patted your back and you chugged down a whole glass of water. "Why?" you asked them with wide eyes. "They had problems from the start, Mina always told us that she was suspicious about Kiri having feelings for you." you stopped breathing. "They are getting a divorce bc of... me?" you asked, you tried to move on but it was your fault??? “No Y/N, ofc not!" Momo interrupted and continued "Mina called me and told me that Kiri was struggling with a problematic marriage and she told me that Kirishima said something like 'I cant lie to myself anymore." or something similar to that, so its Kirishimas fault not yours." You were furious, you were going to give him a piece of his mind, you waited for the girls to left your house.

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After an hour of talking, Mina kicked Kirishima out and he was going to stay at Bakugous place. He was thinking about her, the love of his life, Y/N. Everything could be perfect but he ruined it. Then Bakugou came with two cans of beer and sat beside him. When he brought the can to his mouth his phone rang and both men saw the name on Katsuki's phone. "Y/N?" Kirishima looked at his friend and Katsuki shrugged, he pressed 'answer'. "Hey, Katsuki." he heard your voice from the other line "What up?" he replied. "Where the hell is Kirishima?" Kirishima heard his name on the phone and quickly looked at his friend "What is she saying?!" he asked, Katsuki gave him a 'shut up' look and asked "Why? Is it about work?" you started to get more irritated "WHY DO I NEED TO GIVE YOU A REASON WHERE IS HE!" Katsuki's eyes widened and he looked at Kirishima, even he heard her shout. Then Kirishima nodded and Katsuki continued "Hes at my place." then you replied "Ok, im already on my way tell him to come out." Katsuki was dumbfounded what the fuck was happening? "What?! Why are you coming here-" then you hung up "Damn it !" Kirishimas eyes were wide open "Y/N is coming here?!" Katsuki grabbed his shoulders and looked at him in the eyes "She is coming for you and she is furious! You got this!" then he started to shake him "Ya hear me?!" Kirishima was trying to understand the situation but both of them were confused as heck. "W-wait bro, what am i supposed to do?!" he panicked and Katsuki replied "The hell, i dont know?! Just go there and listen to her! She is almost here!" Kirishima quickly brushed his teeth and used one of his bros perfume. He was trying to do some breathing exercises then both of them heard your cars horn. "Ok, go there and stay strong!" Katsuki opened his apartments door and Kirishima nodded.

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You leaned onto your car and crossed your arms in front of your chest. Then you saw a stupid redhead walking towards you with a nervous face, your heart clenched in your chest. "H-hey Y/N, how can i help you?" oh his stupid voice, his stupid eyes. You hated him, how he made your heart stop, how he made your cheeks flush, how he made your body shake. Then his eyes widened and you asked "What are you looking at?!" and he slowly gulped "Y/N, you are crying..." Then your eyes widened and you touched your cheeks, why were you crying? He should be the one who was crying! "I-i.... You-!" You started to sob, he didnt know what do all he wanted to do was hug you but he knew that you didnt wanted him to touch you. "Y/N-" , "Stop! Dont even open your mouth and listen to me!" he stopped and waited for you to calm down. "I heard that you are getting a divorce, is that true?" you asked and tried to stay calm "Yes..." he answered "Why?" you asked another question without waiting. "Why are you gettin a divorce it has only been 5 months ?" you even knew how long. "Isnt she pregnant? Shouldnt you be supportive?" Kirishima's heart stopped, you knew that Mina was pregnant? "I cant do it, it doesnt feel right. Im going to be a dad for our child but...", "But what, Kirishima?" he was gettin more nervous "We just cant get along." he gave a short answer. You took a deep breath "Uraraka told me that she was accusing you for having feelings for me." His cheeks started to burn and he saw the sad look in your eyes "I tried to move on, Kirishima i tried... I didnt do anything to you both and you are getting a divorce BECAUSE OF ME?" you started to raise your voice "No! Its not because of you, i cant take it thats why we are getting a divorce!" he raised his voice, he wanted you to listen. "I want answers! WHY DID YOU LEFT ME ?!" your legs started to shake and you were having a hard time trying to stand straight, he immediately tried to hold you but you pushed him "KIRISHIMA TELL ME! WHY DID YOU STOPPED LOVING ME?!I WORKED SO HARD JUST FOR YOU! YOU WERE MY EVERYTHING!" you were crying on the floor, he started to cry and kneeled in front of you, he pulled you into a tight hug, first you struggled and begged him to let you go but he was too strong for you. He waited for you to calm down and started to stroke your hair. When he felt your hands clutching onto his shirt he didnt wanted to let you go and inhaled your scent. "I dont have any excuse, i ruined our future, you were so far away yet worked so hard just for me, Mina and i had a friendship and we just lied to ourselves, i was such a stupid teenager and im still so stupid, on the wedding i kept imagining you walking beside me... I never loved anyone else but you..." he waited for you to say something but when you stayed silent he continued "We started to have fights on the first day of our marriage and she always brought you up saying that i was still in love with you, i never denied it because it was true and she knew that." he sighed "Bakugou always warned me about my desicions but i was keep following my stupid thoughts, even all of our friends were against the idea of us getting married but they stayed silent because they didnt wanted us to think that they are bad." you raised your head and looked at him in the eyes, his eyes were begging for you, it's been so long... you were finally touching him. "Y/N, i want you, i want you to be my partner, i want you to be the mother of our kids, even if you hate me... I love you, you are the only one im thinking about since highschool." you touched his cheek and his eyes started to shine with tears again, he quickly covered your hand with his "I dont hate you Kirishima, you... yes you are stupid!" he laughed and you joined him. "Y/N, please give me a chance and lets build our future." he looked at you with sincere eyes and rested his forehead on yours. "Kiri... Promise me, you are going to do your best." he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap, you let out a yelp and turned red "I promise, sunshine." your heart started to beat faster, you used to call him that. He leaned closer and closer... Then after all these years both of you shared your first kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he squeezed your waist, he didnt wanted to let you go, he finally had you by his side and he promised himself to make you the happiest woman in the world. When you exchanged numbers you gave him a goodnight kiss and left, Bakugou was waiting for him in his living room, he expected to see a sad and broken Kiri but when he returned he had the biggest smile on his face. "Did she hit your head with a metal stick, why you smiling?" Bakugou asked, this dude was crying 45 minutes ago but now he was jumping around like a little boy. Kiri told him everything that happened and Bakugou was happy for his best friend "You better not ruin it this time that stupid Y/N is my friend too, or something like that." Bakugou never admitted loudly but he cared about you he was the one who supported you all this time.

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After all this events, Kirishima finally managed to separate his ways with Mina and took Y/N on several dates, the girls were so happy for Y/N and the boys supported their relationship then congratulated Y/N for her patience and keeping up with Kirishima's stupid actions. After some months Mina gave birth to a little baby girl. Kirishima promised to be a caring dad and he rented an apartment for himself. His daughter was really fond of him and he was the sweetest dad ever but sometimes you got jelaous bc you wanted him to be the father of your kids. One day when you were watching an animation with Mizuki, Kirishima suddenly grabbed your hand and dragged you to his kitchen, he wrapped his arms around you and peppered your cheeks with kisses then things started to get intimate and you stopped him "Kiri, Mizuki is here remember?" he smiled, how could you be so thoughtful? You were such an angel, he lifted you and made you sit on the kitchen island, he layed his head on your chest and you started to stroke his hair. Then suddenly Mizuki appeared and you quickly pushed Kirishima, she came with an empty bowl that used to be filled with cookies "Can i have more cookies?" she asked and Kirishima sighed "But didnt Y/N filled that bowl with cookies, dont eat too much." she made puppy dog eyes and you giggled "But i love eating Y/N's cookies!" she whined then looked at you with confused eyes "Why are you sitting up there Y/N?" you quickly remembered what you were doing a minute ago and your cheeks started to burn from embarrasment, Kirishima started to laugh "Why dont you come up and sit on my lap Princess Mizuki?" you smiled and she ran towards the island, Kirishima lifted her and gave her to you "Now you are tall just like your daddy!" You poked her cheek and she laughed "Im the princess bow down daddy bow down! You are the knight, you are going to marry me!" all of you started to laugh "Ok then who am i, your fairy?" you asked. "No! Im the princess so you are the queen!" you smiled and Kiri looked at the both of you with loving eyes "Yeah, she is our queen." you blushed, all of you started to play a kingdom game. Then Mizuki got tired and fell asleep, Kiri carried her to his own bed and you waited for him on his couch. He appeared with two cups of coffee in his hands and sat next to you, "Thank you for spending your day off with us, baby." he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you replied "Anything for both of you." He kissed the tip of your nose and sighed. "Im so grateful Y/N, you dont need to support me you know? Mizuki is not tiring you is she?" you took his hand and gave it a squeeze, "I love her, Kirishima." he put his mug on the table in front of you and pulled you to a tight hug "I dont deserve you, angel." you giggled and replied "I know." he laughed. "Mizuki loves you so much, Y/N. First she was confused about us being a family or not but she knows that i love her no matter what." you nodded and started to talk "Kirishima you are her dad and Mina is her mother, i cant change that but i love her with all my heart." Kiri grabbed your chin and planted a kiss on your lips. "I love you so much Y/N."

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You just came home back from work and saw a missed call when you looked at the contact info you saw her name. "Mina" its been so long since both of you had a conversation but you decided to call back. She quickly answered "Oh uh um, hey Y/N." she was nervous and it was obvious. "Do you need something from me?" you asked and she was silent for a moment then started to speak "Listen Y/N, you are always taking care of Mizuki and she always talks about you, im so grateful for that... I just wanted to... Apologise to you. Y/N i had a crush on Kirishima but it was temporary and i lied to myself. I got married with him, we tought that our friendship was something else and its hard to accept it but he always tried to pretend that i was you, he failed. Because you are the one he loves, i cant be you and we had a strong friendship with you Y/N. I made a mistake and i want you back." your mouth was opening and closing like a fish, you didnt know what to say. You had a beautiful frienship with Mina when you were in U.A so ofc it wounded you when you guys had an argument. "Mina, i forgave Kirishima for his mistakes and i cant ignore you bc it wouldnt be fair to you so... Its okay." you heard sobs and hiccups. "Y-Y/N thank you, everything was so hard and a big mistake! I love you so much and i dont want our friendship to fully end..." The coldness you felt towards her vanished, she realized her mistake and was apologising for it, that was the important thing so you took a deep breath and continued. "Im not cruel Mina, we lost so many years so lets make good memories, okay?" she sniffed and replied enthusiastically "Yes! Lets make good memories and rebuild or friendship!" then you chatted a little and hung up.

-

-

-

Now...

Kirishima quickly answered his phone and heard your beautiful voice. "Kirishima you are running late for work!" he could see your face through the phone "Baby, do you have a frown on your face right now?" he asked "Omg are you here?" he started to laugh "No baby, its obvious from the tone of your voice." you sighed and laughed. "Hurry up stupid redhead! We have so much work to do!" he chuckled "Ok baby im coming, dont worry, love you." you replied "Ofc you love me, im the one who has to deal with you everyday so you better love me more!" both of you were laughing like stupid highschool kids. "Im coming, angel." then he hung up and head towards the kitchen, Mizuki was walking back and forth. "Daddy hurry up, lets go!" Kirishima quickly dropped her to Mina's place and drove towards Fatgum's agency. He quickly checked his pocket and grabbed the velvet box. He opened it and eyed the ring one more time "You can do this Eijiro, you better do it!" He quickly gave Bakugou a call and he answered "Im working shitty hair." he sighed and started to talk "I know dude but, im going to propose to Y/N today." Bakugou snorted "Finally. Then what are you waiting for huh? Go." Kirishima smiled to himself "Thanks for everything bro." "Yeah yeah i know, dont keep that dumbass waiting if she gets mad shes going to kick your ass and you are already late arent you?" Kirishima chuckled nervously and Bakugou sighed "Later, Eiji." he hung up and Kiri quickly got out of his car. He saw you in the lobby, you were tapping your foot on the floor impatiently. He laughed at the sight and approached you "Hey baby." you gave a sigh of relief and punched his arm "Come on! We have a mission to go!" The mission went smoothly it wasnt that dangerous, some low level criminals. When you came back to the agency you quickly head towards the showers. The girls in the changing room greeted you and one of them asked "L/N-senpai when are you going to get married with Kirishima-senpai?” Your cheeks flushed and you coughed. "Um... We are gonna get married but i cant give you a specific time." some of them gave 'oohs' and 'awwwws', you quickly took a shower and opened your phone, you got a message from Kirishima.

Sunshine: Hey baby, why dont you come over tonight?

You: Sure! I have some paperwork to do, its not gonna take long.

Sunshine: Ok, im going to leave early today and i will be waiting for you in my place, love you!

You: Got it, love you too. <3

You smiled at your phone then started to head towards your desk, it took 30 minutes to finish the damn work and you quickly sent him a text saying that you were coming then you started to drove, it took 15 minutes to get in front of his apartment, you climbed the stairs and opened the door with the key in your pocket, you had his apartments key bc you can? "Kiri, im home." You looked around but the living room was dark, you started to head towards the kitchen and the lights were off "Kiri?" you called but there was no answer then you felt strong arms wrapping around your waist from behind, you jumped and turned to see Kiri with a smile on his face "Welcome home, baby." your cheeks got red 'Home...' "What were you doing in the dark Kiri?" he laughed and took your hand in his. "Lets go to the balcony shall we?" He dragged you towards the balcony and slided the door open. Then you saw a blanket fort with yellow lights and fluffy pillows in it, you giggled. When you were a student in U.A, you loved making blanket forts with your friends, especially with Kirishima. "Surprise!" he laughed and you started to jump "Awww Kiri, this brings back memories!" he quickly crouched down and layed on the soft sheets it was a high and big blanket fort so it was comfortable. You quickly layed next to him on your stomach and supported yourself with your elbows, you looked at his cute face and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. Then he handed you a bowl of popcorn "I chose an action movie from my pc, come on lets watch it!" you nodded and both of you got comfortable in eachothers arms. When the movie ended, Kirishima pulled you onto his chest and started to stroke your cheek, you guys started to chat about random things and stupid stuff that you did in U.A, he slowly got up and you followed his action. "Y/N... I love you so much." he smiled but his aura was different so you started to get nervous, was there a problem? "I love you too, Kiri." you smiled back then he grabbed something from his pocket and you stopped breathing, there was a velvet box in his hand, you quickly looked at his eyes and he was smiling so sincerely. "My angel, will you marry me?" your eyes started to water, you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him. "Yes, yes, yes! A million times, yes!" He started to cry and hugged you with full force. Then he put the ring on your finger and looked into your eyes, "I promise you, i will make you the happiest woman in the world my angel." You kissed him and replied "Oh my sunshine... Lets build our future together."

A/N: This was my first one shot! I hope you liked it!<3

Attached: Words Lost in Translation Pt.1

Type: (mini)-series,  Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 4200

Summary: There’s a new guy in your history class – a foreign student from Milan, Italy. Handsome, nice enough, pretty smart, actually.

But dammit, you should have known that a guy complimenting the way you say his name will be trouble – Bucky certainly thinks so from the start… and he’s not wrong. Oh boy.

A/N: Attached: Words Lost in Translation is a 3-part addition to the Attached series.

A/N: Many thanks to my lord and saviour @chase-your-dreams-away​ for her help with Italian bits which you’ll find in the fic :-* Seriously, big shout-out for her, she was awesome! Vocabulary at the end if you’re interested.

And many thanks to @wxstedhexrt​ for sending me the link and putting the plot bunny into my head in the first place :-* 

Warnings: smug insistent jerk, harassment(?), swearing, one remark about LBGT+ that could feel insensitive

Story masterlist

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“Uhm… hi. Can I sit here? And uh—this is kinda ridiculous, but could I borrow a pen?”

A very much handsome young man was standing by your seat in the second row, week two of your first semester of master’s at uni, deep brown eyes, naturally tanned skin, relatively tall, his smile a fraction shy but honest.

What else could you have done that what you did?

Even if he wasn’t a relatively cute guy – mind you, you were dating Steve, very happily needless to say – you had no reason to be a bitch to a guy with slight accent you weren’t sure where to place, to a guy who was apparently a tiny bit lost on his first day at Bucky’s class.

“Yeah, sure. Seat all yours,” you smiled encouragingly, sliding him an extra pen on surface of the desk.

His smile widened brilliantly, exposing a set of perfectly narrow and white teeth. A twinkle appeared in his eye and you caught your heart skipping a beat.

Oh. Ah-oh.

“Thank you so much. Something tells me that the prof wouldn’t appreciate me missing the first class of his and not taking notes on the second,” your mystery student grimaced and you chuckled, unable to help yourself.

First of all, yeah, kinda on point.

Second of all, not on point at all, because the said prof was Professor James Barnes. Bucky had a relatively benevolent policy when it came to his classes – yes, he appreciated when his students were paying attention, interacting even, but as long as you weren’t an ass or weren’t making noise (or both), you were fine.

You said so to your new classmate and he nodded in acknowledgement.

“Good to know… but you know what would be even better?” he asked, cocking his head to side curiously – or teasingly, it was hard to tell.

“Oh, what? I guess you need the syllabus too, right? I can-“

A low chuckle erupted from his throat, his eyes glimmering with amusement as his gaze gave you a not-exactly-subtle once-over you weren’t sure how you felt about.

Except you knew exactly how you felt about it, you just knew you shouldn’t feel that way.

“That would probably come in handy too, but I’d rather know the name of my lovely saviour with a pretty smile.”

You found yourself lowering your gaze, heat rising to your cheeks.

Here was a thing – this was most flirting you got in like a year. You adored Steve, you truly did, from the bottom of your heart, he was a dream come true… however, the fact that you two were dating was clear to everyone.

And by everyone, you really meant everyone; considering the scene at your bachelor graduation and the mess around, it appeared that the whole damn city accepted the fact that you were Steve’s and thus no one even considered stepping on his toes.

Which was alright, absolutely, but… girl’s got needs, her ego craves a boost from time to time, even if it’s an appreciative glance from a stranger. Just a teeny-tiny bit of flirting.

No one ever flirted with you anymore.

It was why it was way too easy to fall into the sweet trap as you introduced yourself, lifting you gaze only to see your companion wearing a lop-sided smile. He most definitely liked what he saw.

“Sweet name for a sweet girl. I’m Daniel. I’m here for two semesters. And before you ask, it’s Milano, Italy,” he added quickly with a flash of his teeth again, holding out his hand – and upon having it accepted, he most certainly held it too long and swept his thumb over the back of your hand.

Which was the point when your head started yelling at you to stop this in an instant and draw a line. Yes, it felt amazing to be complimented to, but you had a boyfriend – a fucking dreamy one, no less – and you sure as hell didn’t want to give Daniel (how was his name pronounced again?) the wrong impression.

You retreated your hand with your smile turning tight-lipped, a cold pang of guilt stabbing you in your gut. Served you right.

“Nice to meet you, Daniel,” you said politely, and his expression shifted into one just a fraction patronizing.

“Da-ni­-el. Kinda soft ‘i’. Daniel. You’ll get a hang of it, I’m sure. Once more, please?”

Well, since he said please. “Da-ni-el,” you repeated more from a common curtesy, because honestly, the least you could do was to try to pronounce a name right for a handsome classmate.

Shush it, it doesn’t matter if he’s handsome or not!

Daniel smiled widely, turning his palms up and gesturing towards you. “Perfetto. Amazing. You’re a natural.”

Before you could say thanks, Bucky entered the class and you felt the stab in your insides intensify as his eyes found you unmistakably, as if he had witnessed our interaction with the Italian and was telling you he’d rat you out to Steve if you didn’t stop right now.

Ridiculous – there was nothing to talk about. You were just being nice to the friendly stranger who happened to be in your class and whom you’d be meeting for at least a semester. That was all.

Except you still felt your heart pounding furiously, equally because of the feeling of getting caught doing something wrong and because of enjoying the attention. Fuck.

Okay, fine. You’d tell Steve about this guy on your own as a precaution. It would at least remind you to keep yourself in check, because honestly, you had no desire to get tangled up in some mess. You had no desire to taint the beautiful thing you had with Steve with anything at all, less so for a fling.

Content with yourself, you forced yourself to listen to Bucky’s lecture, taking notes like you were supposed to, determined to ignore Daniel’s presence.

Except Daniel interrupted him twice with questions and remarks about accuracy, drawing attention of the whole class to him and you felt hot in your face for a whole different reason than before – simply hating that someone sitting next to you was, frankly, quickly getting annoying.

And God, you had no idea how much.

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Daniel Gallo was a relatively nice guy –social perhaps a little too much, but cute and open, easy to be friends with.

However, he had one fatal flaw, one you discovered very early on; he was the smuggest asshole you had ever met.

Perhaps it was his need to correct Bucky all the time – mostly failing, because Bucky knew his shit, he was just sparing you the tinniest details, leaving them for you to find in text books.

Maybe it was the fact that Daniel hadn’t given you the pen back, not even asking if he could keep it for the day, which you’d understand despite being protective of your pens; except he carried it around for two weeks, using it in front of you, returning it only upon your curious and slightly sarcastic comment about it.

Most definitely though, it was the fact that he was unbearably insistent on flirting with you – shamelessly – even after you grew so uncomfortable that you blatantly told him you had a boyfriend. He smirked, but backed off for the day, only to continue his advances the next week.

And then Jill, a girl from your year and a sort-of-friend, actually told you that he mentioned you in front of her, saying that you were two growing rather close, if she knew what he meant, and she admitted that she snorted into her latté when hearing it.

“What? What is it?” he had asked.

“I sincerely doubt that,” she claimed she had said, causing him to frown.

“Why? She gay? I don’t think so, I can tell this kind of stuff.”

“No. She’s taken. Very happily, I might add. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“Nah. We’ll see about that,” he had replied supposedly and learning that felt like a punch to your stomach, causing you to see red.

You showed him ignorance incarnate the next week, but he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

And then even Bucky noticed and kept casting dirty glares at you both as if you had done the worst crime.

To be honest, after that you did feel dirty; but you didn’t want to make a fuss.

In fact, you hadn’t even told Steve about Daniel besides informing him about the existence of a foreign student in your class.

Partly, shame was to blamed, because you kept wondering if you had done enough; perhaps you should have been more radical, sterner with Daniel to make him stop.

The other part of the reason was that Steve was under tons of pressure because of his academic duties; all professors had to publish an article in a prestige journals dedicated to their area of expertise at least once in two years – university policy – and working on that while teaching several classes was simply taking its toll on him. You really didn’t want to add to his stress.

It wasn’t even a big deal – Daniel was overly social and he probably said shit like the stuff you learned from Jill about other girls too. What was the golden rule? When there’s nothing broken, don’t fix it.

There was nothing. No problem at all.

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Except there was.

That morning, you were zoned out, because Steve snapped at you for not doing the dishes and didn’t bother to apologize till you left the apartment in a foul mood. Then he went to shower you with texts full of apologies, gradually growing into pure cutesy (involving a picture of his puppy eyes) and gifs and stuff and you ended up spending the majority of Bucky’s lecture on your phone.

By Bucky’s policy, that was perfectly okay, because he couldn’t care less if you were smiling like a loon into your phone – hell, if he noticed, he was probably glad, knowing shit had rained down and was now being fixed.

At the end of the class, Daniel graciously offered you his neat notes – and really, they looked amazing –, surprising you rather pleasantly.

“Oh… that’s… that’s very kind of you,” you stuttered, almost rendered speechless. Perhaps you truly were just making a big deal of things, seeing something that wasn’t-

“Anything for my principessa.“

The cloud that had been following you since you left the apartment made its comeback in a second, so fast that you actually felt your stomach drop to your feet.

Oh no, you were not imagining things – after all, Daniel even had a term of fucking endearment for you. And you might not be speaking Italian, but you understood that just fine.

“Perhaps one day she’ll repay me with a dinner date,” he continued with a supposedly charming smile, one you found disgusting at the moment.

You opened your mouth and swiftly closed it when no sound came out, scoffing at your naivety. Of course he wouldn’t give them for free, jackass. You shook your head with a wry smile and packed your untouched pencil case and papers, rising to your feet without another word.

A hand on your wrist stopped you from spinning on your heel and walking away.

“Aspetta, aspetta-” an all-to-familiar voice now whispered as you grinded your teeth and glared at the point of contact, skin on skin. He squeezed your wrist almost gently before letting go. “Wait. Here. Just… take a picture, okay? Where would we be if weren’t nice from time to time…”

You really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction… but you could really use his notes too.

Dammit shit.

“Thank you,” you uttered, obediently taking a photo of the three pages of ridiculously perfect notes. Then, you met his gaze, face torn between stern and grateful. “Just… a reminder: I have a boyfriend.”

Slow smile spread on his lips and in that moment, you wanted to punch him in those perfect teeth of his. “Doesn’t stand in the way of admiring your beauty, does it, la mia ragazza…”

You had no clue what he said, but the la mia hinted you that he called you something his and that sent a surge of white-hot anger through your veins, mixing with humiliation. Your hand actually curled up in a fist, twitching – but instead of giving your piling anger an outlet, you took a deep breath, huffed and stalked away without a word of goodbye.

“See you next week!” Daniel called after you and you gripped the strap of your backpack tighter, squeezing your eyes shut.

That night, you got next to zero sleep, watching Steve’s passed-out form with tears in your eyes.

It was ridiculous, it was nothing and you were doing nothing wrong-- but you couldn’t make yourself to cuddle to Steve’s side despite desperately needing his wordless affirmation that everything was alright.

Just a simple embrace of his was like a promise of a brighter future. With him.

Chuckling wryly into your palm, you wiped at your tears and snuggled to Steve, causing him to stir and hum, his arm circling around you on instinct, a barely-there sloppy kiss to your hair chasing more tears into your eyes along with a watery smile gracing your lips.

Yeah. Everything was going to be fine.

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Nothing was fine.

Daniel was getting handsy if you could call it that. His thigh brushed yours multiple times the next class as he was sitting uncomfortably close and no amount of subtle pushing away (of you and your chair) was helping, so no, there could have been nothing coincidental about that.

You dug your nails into your palm and bit your cheek, but survived the lesson somehow.

Bucky called for you at the end of the class, saving you further interaction with that Italian Satan, allowing you to breathe freely until he addressed the very problem your head was occupied with.

Bucky didn’t like Daniel’s attitude to begin with – which wasn’t surprising, seeing as he was being a prick – but he liked the fact Daniel seemed to be awfully close to you even less if his tone was anything to go by and his eyes screamed accusations and you fucking hated yourself, feeling the tell-tale of incoming tears burning in your eyes.

“I can talk to him, you know. Tell him to back off,” he offered then though, the grey with blue threads of his irises warming when he noticed your state.

The pressure in your gut eased upon learning Steve’s best friend didn’t only blame you and apparently wanted to help rather than presenting you with ‘you made your bed you lie in it’ attitude.

You even charmed a small smile for him, determined to do justice to your word: “Thank you… it’s fine. I’ll deal with him. I can handle one guy who doesn’t take no for an answer.”

And sure you could.

Daniel hugged you goodbye the next class, saying he was planning a get-away with his new friends for a weekend and it might be dangerous – fucking absurd.

With your heart in your throat, you quickly patted his back and twisted from his arms, feeling dirty.

“No kiss for good luck?” he teased, that annoying smug smile on his face and you had to remind yourself that punching him was a terrible idea seeing as you were already walking a fine line dating a professor – who happened to be the best friend of one of your professors.

You didn’t need any problems – and for some reason, you were certain Daniel would make a big fucking deal of it. So no punching it was.

Your resolve crumbled to nothing when a sudden kiss landed on your cheek, the sensation cold like a kiss of the death itself.

Before you could as much as catch your breath which got knocked out of your lungs and not in the good way, your blood pressure skyrocketing along with your pulse to a point where your head began spinning… he was gone.

You gulped, eyes fluttering shut as the world seemed to sway from its place and you nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand grasped your arm.

“Daniel, go fuck yourself-“ you snapped and glared at him- only to meet Bucky’s angry and very much concerned gaze.

“Too bad you didn’t say that about thirty seconds ago. You alright?” the brunet asked you, grip firm yet gentle as he steadied your shaky stance.

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, a little strangled noise. “And I am gonna tell him exactly this the next time I see him.”

“Not good enough for me. You’re not stupid, I know you’re not. But I’m not either,” he remarked, expression gravel. His tone hardened, unlike his eyes that studied you thoroughly, examining your face as if searching for something. “You think I didn’t notice the change of your wardrobe?”

An icy-cold shiver ran an up your spine, causing all your muscles to stiffen.

Fuck. He noticed.

You supposed it wasn’t too hard to see and it was only natural that he kept an eye on you as on his best friend’s girlfriend. Yes, your Tuesday’s outfits suddenly somehow lacked skirts and anything with a deeper neckline than a turtle-neck, simply in hopes to turn Daniel off or at least not to pluck up his interest further; an action that had taken zero effect.

But being called out like this? That stung. It hurt your pride and it hurt by its very nature, because it reminded you how pathetic you were, unable to get rid of a jerk who didn’t take no for an answer – in a public space, with witnesses for god’s sake. It made you feel weak and incompetent.

So you looked Professor Barnes dead in the eye, your lips a thin line, your voice cold as you spoke the only words that made sense at that time:

“I—I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

So what if you stuttered? So what if his brows furrowed with what was a damn patronizing worry? You didn’t care as you gathered your stuff without another word exchanged.

You made a mental note to wear your favourite outfit the next week, forgoing pants and turtle-necks, because you could fucking take care of yourself.

Penny encouraged you, clearly having faith in you too, but she also gently reminded you that you could report him.

As if. Brining more attention to your person was the last thing you needed.

You could do this on your own, thank you very much.

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For all your bravado, you asked a girl you barely knew by name if you could sit next to her and nearly cried when she said yes and another girl seated herself to your other side within two minutes. You even smiled for yourself contentedly, seeing a dawn of a new age.

And then Daniel fucking Gallo walked in and charmed his way to the seat next to you anyway, somehow managing to scare off your original saviour as well.

Well, too bad for him; you had your confidence back along with your outfit that suited you much better and you were going to tell that jerk to fuck off, just like you promised to Bucky and yourself.

“You thought I wasn’t coming today, la mia bella ragazza? I couldn’t bear not seeing you…” he started off again and you eyed him head to toe, causing a smile spread on his face. You had found that smile cute once, the kind of smile you would let a person get away with murder for.

Now it was making you want to commit murder.

“I was hoping actually.”

“Oh, sassy today, are we? What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? He had the audacity to-

You can’t punch him, you can’t punch him, think of the bureaucracy and your future…

What about my satisfaction?

Zip it!

You took a deep breath and watched that asshole take a seat next to you, automatically shuffling his chair closer.

“Daniel, look-“

“Zitta, zitta…” he interrupted you softly, but the manner he spoke with only pissed you off further. Fuck Italian.

“I don’t know what that means and frankly, I don’t care. I’m taken. I said so, several times. So back off,” you hissed, watching your volume despite the prof not being in yet – you didn’t need a scene. You were disgustingly certain Daniel had brought enough attention to you already – in fact, you were shocked Steve hadn’t learned about this yahoo yet with how quickly gossip spread on this university.

And that Bucky hadn’t told him-- God, you hoped Bucky wasn’t saving it for today’s boys night-

To your utter shock and annoyance, Daniel didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, smiling widely as if amused at your antics. “Am I putting doubts in that bella testolina of yours?”

Your blood boiled at such implication… and maybe there was a thin flow of steam coming from your ears too? Because you couldn’t fucking believe this guy, implying such thing-

--okay, you weren’t sure what exactly he said, honestly, but you understood just enough. No doubts. You were perfectly sure he was an asshole you wanted to have nothing to do with.

“No! No way! Jesus- okay. Let’s be clear. Was... this,” you gestured between the two of you in self-explanatory manner, “flattering at first? Yes. But seriously, now you’re just making me uncomfortable.”

As if appealing to his conscience would work…

“Then give in. Just one little dinner,” he insisted, showing a small space between his thumb and forefinger, grinning as if he hadn’t been listening to you at all. “What could it hurt? Who knows, maybe I’ll show you a real good time and you’ll forget all about some boring boyfriend of yours… who I’m not sure he exists actually-“

You inhaled sharply, wheezing in fact, heat of righteous anger flooding your whole body. That fucker-!

“Oh for fuck’s sake-“

You can’t punch him. You. Can. Not. Punch. Him.

You repeated those words to yourself like a magical mantra that was losing its effect, because there was nothing you wanted more. Maybe except for Steve punching him, that would be quite a show… but it was not an option.

For one, Steve, thank heavens, still didn’t know about Daniel’s unwanted advances and for two, chances were that he would show a little less restraint and you wouldn’t blame him one bit. But it would bring a whole new set of trouble, so you had to deal with this alien of a man on your own.

And right now, staring into that stupidly smug face of his, you only saw one possible solution.

“Okay, fine.”

You almost slapped your hand over your mouth as soon as the words left your lips, numbing horror overwhelming your body.

What the fuck did you just do?!

“Yes!” Daniel whisper-yelled, pumping his fist and you noticed that the class was gradually falling silent, probably with Bucky’s approach – but there was still enough chatter going on for you to save the situation somehow.

“-but you have to earn it,” you added in an equally hushed tone.

He cocked his eyebrow, as if smelling your fear that arrived instantly after the rash decision he provoked from you. “I won’t back out from a challenge, bellezza.”

Yeah, I friggin’ bet.

Your mind was racing hundred miles an hour, choosing to ignore the whatever-it-meant petname in favour of the crisis at hand.

“How about… you ask the professor a question-“ Oh Bucky was going to have your head on a stick for that, but hey, he had offered to help you- “-and if he answers wrong, I’ll go to one dinner with you, tonight.”

…that would be alright, right? Just to get rid of him. One dinner so he would get the clue at last. You’d be a hateful bitch, possibly embarrassing him, doing just about anything for him to finally stop making your life a living hell.

Yeah, looking back at the product of your frantic brain, it had been an excellent thinking actually. Go impulsive me!

Hell, tonight was perfect for it, with Steve having a night off with Bucky and you originally planning on studying with Penny. You would tell Steve after, explaining everything—or maybe before? Bucky was your witness that you weren’t exactly an enthusiastic participant in this, surely he would help you explain and would be able to distract Steve-

But really, that was all theoretical, because Daniel would have to catch Bucky off guard first, which was very unlikely. Bucky knew his subject through and through and Daniel’s chances were extremely low anyway.

“Easy-peasy,” Daniel grinned confidently, making you internally roll your eyes at his overconfident ass.

Or perhaps you had let your annoyance show for real? You couldn’t tell anymore, the adrenaline rush in your veins making certain things too sharp and other dull. For instance, you registered Daniel’s eyes flickering towards the teacher’s stand, his already wide smile growing enough to nearly tear his mouth.

“Even easier when we have a substitute.”

“What,” you blurted out, head snapping to the professor at the front.

A flash of blond hair and a shade darker beard. Broad shoulders. Blue eyes of which you simply knew they had a glint of green in them.

Your heart positively stopped in your chest, your lips parting in mute horror.

“Oh shit.”

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Vocabulary: Perfetto - perfect Principessa – princess Aspetta – wait La mia (bella) ragazza – my (pretty) girl Zitta – shh Bella testolina – pretty head

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Part 2

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Eh, I swear the first idea was giving off less of a harassment vibe. But it gets better, I promise ;)

I apologize to Italians if you find this offensive, but it was in fact not my intention at all for Daniel to be a representation of a whole nation. I figured there are insistent jerks all over the globe. (And I happened to have an Italian real-life template, not gonna lie.)

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 21

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 21 - Possess

There were no classes the next day. Lin Yan wanted to sleep in. Who knew that he'd get woken up by Yin Zhou's early morning phone call? He was still hazy from sleep. He didn’t make out a lot of what Yin Zhou was saying. From what he did hear, it seemed like one of his relatives say a ghost. . . Lin Yan put down the receiver and sat on the bed in a daze. He raised his head and glanced at the wall clock on the wall. It was currently 7:05. He had forgotten to close his curtains last night and bright sunlight streamed into the room.

Lin Yan turned over and lay on the blankets, wanting to go back to sleep. The morning wind blew in from the window, and the cool air made him feel refreshed from his shoulders to his legs. Lin Yan hugged the pillow when a thought appeared. Something was wrong.

His side was bare?

He jumped up like a flailing carp and looked down at his bare torso. Lin Yan was so frightened that he pulled the blanket around his waist, looking like a guilty thief.

Fortunately, Xiao Yu wasn't there.

Lin Yan slumped back on the bed, stretching out his arms and legs and reminiscing about what had happened last night. It seemed that he actually had a bath with the ghost, and even had a good time with him. But then, Xiao Yu put on his clothes, leaving him only wearing his drenched boxers. When the flashback reached the part where the door slammed, Lin Yan jerked. He groaned internally; he actually messed around with a ghost.

The relationship between the two had just started to improve at the antiquities lecture, and then a comment about sending him away caused him to completely flip out. Lin Yan put his chin on the pillow and sulkily pondered. He wasn't sure what the ghost had been upset about. It was hard to determine who took advantage of who last night, but a ghost that claimed he'll take his life doesn't give him much room to resist. It was unbearable. If it weren't for the fact that he had finished things himself, he would have gone crazy.

Besides, jerking off is a real personal topic. . . Lin Yan felt himself blush. He buried his head into the pillow and wanted to stay there for the rest of the day.

Anyways, what about the ghost?

Lin Yan changed his clothes, ruffled his messy hair and walked out of the bedroom. When he turned to the living room, he was midway through the yawn. When Lin Yan saw the scene in front of him through the sleepy haze in his eyes, his body was numb in shock and he almost screamed.

Xiao Yu was sitting on the sofa and stared at him coldly. The light gray soft satin shirt reflected the delicate pearly light of the early morning sun. He looked like a beautiful young man, but right now, he made the atmosphere gloomy and chilly.

Five words quickly popped up in his head: enemies on a narrow road*.

*(T/N: it's four characters in Chinese [冤家路窄], and it basically means two enemies that inevitably meet and have a staredown, i.e. a cowboy faceoff at high noon, that kind of thing)

Lin Yan stood awkwardly tugged on the hem of his shirt. The situation was completely beyond his imagination. The ghost found in the tomb was a ruthless murderer, but this ghost was different from the ones on TV or in horror movies. He wasn't possessing him, couldn't remember how he died, or even remember who he was. There was nothing else for him to do but cling to him every day. It sounded pathetic, but he could at least always hold his form and didn't shy away from the sun. Lin Yan glanced at the sofa discreetly, thinking that the next time he saw the little Daoist priest, he would have so many questions to ask him.

The question now was what should he do? The person on the sofa was clearly upset. Even though he was a few metres away, Lin Yan could still feel the surrounding air crackling and exploding with sparks.

After a moment of hesitation, he decided to take the initiative to attack and kill the enemy before the enemy could attack, nipping all the hidden attacks in the bud. Lin Yan channelled his qi, opened his meridians, centred his energy, and let out a dry smile: "Good morning Young Master Xiao!"

You could hear a pin drop.

"Are you. . . hungry? I'm going to make breakfast?" Lin Yan wanted to ask him for forgiveness. Even though he thought that ghosts probably didn't need to eat, eating was probably similar enough to eating people. Eating people. . . Lin Yan's face started to burn again. He anxiously wrung his hands. He moved to the sofa, and gently placed a hand on the ghost's knee.

Xiao Yu glanced at him, then turned to stare out the window in silence.

"I'm not angry anymore. I let you kiss me, and we can do it again in a few days. I don't know what's wrong." Lin Yan coaxed him kindly.

The ghost still sat silently.

"I don't want you to leave anymore. You choked me so hard yesterday, so let's call it even." Lin Yan felt like he was making a fool of himself. He was getting frustrated so he leaned forward cheekily: "Here, I'll let you kiss me again as compensation."

"Alright, then I'll kiss you whenever I want to instead."

Not waiting for Lin Yan to lean over, Xiao Yu flung his sleeves, moved to the side and sat upright looking at him.

Xiao Yu's reaction really let him know what it meant to show warm feelings but meet with cold rebuke. The irritability of being woken up early in the morning mixed with his current anger, and he couldn't keep it together. Why, despite getting closer to death every day, did he still have to go out of his way to make this ghost happy?

Lin Yan clenched his fist and screamed at Xiao Yu: "What do you want? Do you want me to just lie still while you fuck me? I'm a living fucking person and you never ask when you want to do anything. I dug up your grave, not fucked your corpse. What's the point in stalking me like this? Huh?" As he got angrier and angrier, he picked up a glass cup on the coffee table and smashed it, the shards scattering all over the floor.

"Fine, have it your way. You want me to leave? If you aren't going to kill me then I still have things to do. When the time comes, you go on your way and I'll go on mine. We won't owe each other anything!"

In the living room early in the morning, two people were sitting on the sofa, one with a blank face and the other with a face full of rage right beside him. Neither wanted to look at the other longer than they needed to. Sunlight bounced off the broken pieces of glass on the ground. The orchids on the windowsill were in full bloom, and a few slender branches were covered with quivering white butterflies.

A picture-perfect scene of a husband and wife quarrelling.

The people involved wouldn't agree with this. Lin Yan tugged on the waistband of his pants and walked to the kitchen distractedly. He took four eggs and cracked them into a frying pan. He didn’t know why he still prepared enough for two people. The oil crackled and popped on the pan. When it was almost cooked, he grabbed the sugar from the spice box and sprinkled it in. Lin Yan bowed his head again. He just wanted to throw the pan away. He had accidentally put the wrong seasoning, and now the poached eggs were sprinkled with a thick layer of MSG.

He couldn't keep living like this.

Suddenly the phone in his pocket beeped. A text message from Yin Zhou popped up with the address of XX hospital and a message: “Visiting starts at 9:30. Get here quickly.” Lin Yan stared at the phone in a daze, and suddenly remembered the jumbled call he received this morning. It seemed that Yin Zhou's relatives had encountered something evil and he wanted him to grab the little Daoist priest and rush over to see what was going on.

Holding his phone, Lin Yan didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or cry. He hadn't even dealt with the evil things happening around him. Now he had to take on someone else's problem, as if ghosts from all over the world had made an appointment to meet him, rushed over all at once and greeted him with an evil grin. Lin Yan turned off the stove, forwarded the text message to the little Daoist priest, and tried to fix his expression as he walked to the living room. He hadn't been angry for so many years and he didn't know what to do with himself. He deliberately forced himself to keep a straight face and stared at the wall behind Xiao Yu's shoulders: "I'm going out. If you really don't want to see me, stay here. I'll be back tonight at the latest."

After he finished talking, he went to stand at the door to change his shoes. He turned his head and was face-to-face with Xiao Yu again. He was close enough that he could see his reflection in the other's eyes. Lin Yan was so startled that he almost fell into the shoe rack.

"You want to play Cold War but you're still going to follow me, this guy. . ." Lin Yan muttered, grabbing the car key from the hook and opened the door.

At 9:30 a.m., Lin Yan, who had just finished charging through the morning traffic, appeared in front of a private hospital on the North Third Ring Road. The hospital’s grandeur was a sight to behold. The high-rise buildings were covered with walls of light-blue glass, and the shrubs in the flower beds were meticulously pruned. Although the road near the main entrance of the hospital was congested with traffic, it got better once he passed through the gate. Lin Yan followed the instructions on the floor plan to find the inpatient department. He bought a ridiculously expensive basket of apples from the supermarket downstairs, walked through the front door, took out his mobile phone at the elevator entrance and double-checked the address Yin Zhou sent him.

This is it. Lin Yan took a breath and stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the 17th floor.

In the elevator, Lin Yan hoped that the ghost would do something to disperse the current embarrassing atmosphere, but Xiao Yu just stayed an arm's length away from him and put on an air of indifference.

When the nurse led Lin Yan into the ward, Yin Zhou and A-Yan had already arrived and were sitting on some stools in the middle of a conversation. The private room was clean and tidy. A wide hospital bed sat against the wall, covered with light blue bedding. There were no patients. A middle-aged woman with delicate makeup but a sad expression sat on the bedside peeling oranges. Seeing Lin Yan enter the room, she barely forced out a wry smile and greeted him: "Xiaolin is here, sit down."

"Hello, Auntie." Lin Yan pulled up a chair and sat down. This woman was Yin Zhou's aunt. She was often seen around Yin Zhou's house during New Years. He remembered her as being a very popular person. She liked to laugh at Lin Yan's jokes, and always said that when her daughter was older, they could get married. She kept at it until she met Weiwei, then she changed her goal and asked him almost every day if he was married yet.

"Xiao Yang is over there." The woman pointed to the window. A girl wearing a hospital gown stood in front of the window glass with her back to Lin Yan, not reacting at all.

Lin Yan nodded at Yin Zhou. "What's going on?"

Yin Zhou pulled his stool over and sat down by Lin Yan. He pointed to the girl by the window: "It's my cousin. The one that set off firecrackers with us on New Years, remember? For the past month, she's been in the hospital with a kidney infection."

"Of course I remember my little wife." Lin Yan laughed and called to the girl at the window, "What's Xiao Yang looking at? Come over here, look who's here."

The girl didn't seem to hear it at all. She remained at the window and continued staring out.

Lin Yan was perplexed. He remembers this girl as someone lively and mischievous, talking like a mini adult. Even when she was thirteen or fourteen, it always seemed like she, Lin Yan and Yin Zhou were all the same age. During the Chinese New Year, Yin Zhou had been bored playing games in his bedroom and didn't want to greet his relatives so Lin Yan became the host despite being a guest. He was the one who watched TV and gossiped with this little girl; from which boy was handsome to who secretly wrote a note to whom. The little girl was smart and kept her wits about her. One time, Lin Yan and Yin Zhou secretly took her to a lake to go ice skating. As a result, her foot slipped through the ice and she got completely soaked. Unexpectedly, she never said a word of what happened and she kept it secret when they all went home.

No one in the room spoke, and the sudden silence made Lin Yan a little at a loss. A moment later, the woman sitting on the bed suddenly burst into tears: "I don't know what's wrong. She was barely sick and then this happened." She pointed at the girl by the window and cried loudly: "It's been four days. She hasn't eaten or slept. She just stands by the window and stares outside. The doctors have checked for everything that could possibly be checked. They say it's hysteria and there's nothing they can do. I can't take it anymore."

"What? Auntie, calm down. Speak slowly." Lin Yan was confused.

"See for yourself. It's hard to explain." Yin Zhou pointed to the girl standing completely straight at the window.

Lin Yan put the fruit basket on the bedside table hesitantly. He walked to the window and stood behind the girl for a while. When she didn't move, he tapped her shoulder: "Xiao Yang, have you missed me?"

The girl turned her head. Not like how ordinary people turn their heads where they move their necks first, but instead turned her head 180 degrees until she and Lin Yan were face-to-face. As soon as he saw the girl’s face, Lin Yan yelled and stumbled back. He immediately noticed something wrong. She didn't have any pupils. Her eyes were rolled back into her head. Through her tangled hair, only the whites or her eyes were staring at Lin Yan. She faintly hissed: "Are you here yet?"

"Why haven't you come yet?"

What’s up with that Sims guy?

After the Apocalypse Jon becomes an uni teacher, three students take in interest in what’s up with this weird new professor.

On AO3.

Ships: JonMartin

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!

~~~~~~~~

Time and space moves differently around the Fears, something that could be confusing and strange, but also pretty handy as Jon and Martin had discovered during the Apocalypse. It meant that when they’d turned the world back to normal, banishing the Fears far away, no one had even noticed it had happened.

With Elias, uhm Jonah, gone their ties to the Institute had lessened. However, Jon was still depended on statements, but Martin had decided that being away from it all would be better for him, so Jon was now working part time, while Martin kept an eye on the place.

Which is how Jon had ended up as a professor at a university. He was filling in, because the current professor had gotten pregnant and they hadn’t been able to find someone more suitable than Jon to replace her temporarily.

Jon knew he didn’t have the credentials necessary, but he Knew everything with the help of the Beholding, so he hoped that would be enough to get him through the year.

So here he was, standing in front of a big hall that was slowly filling up with students, who were eyeing him with a mix of curiosity, confusion and uneasiness.

Once everyone had settled down he took a deep breath and started: “Hello everyone, I’m Jonathan Sims and I’m replacing your previous professor until she returns from her maternity leave. I have an oversight of what you all need to know and do this semester, so lets get started with that right away.”

~

Jane looked down at their new professor and shifted in her seat uneasily. He was strange, or at least had a strange aura surrounding him. Jane wasn’t once for judging on appearances, but it was hard not to wonder what the Hell had let a man such at him to this.

He was short, sure, but he wasn’t small and he had a big presence to make up for it. His black hair was streaked with gray, but he had a youthful face that didn’t quite match up, although the tiredness that hung around him seemed old.

Beside that he was also littered with scars. It was hard not to notice the white circles that contrasted with his dark skin, it could be acne scars if they hadn’t been on his exposed forearms as well and so perfectly round. And those weren’t even his only scars, the entire palm on his right had was covered with a burn mark and the open buttons on the top of his shirt exposed a white thin scar across his throat.

So, yeah, strange.

He started to introduce himself and his voice was posh and low, but overall pleasant to listen to, she supposed. This didn’t stop her from exchanging a small look with Jesse, her best friend. Jesse raised her brows at her and the message was received, they were so going to talk about this later.

Later came as soon as they were out the door. Jesse leaned over and said: “Tell me I wasn’t the only one who got a weird vibe from that guy.”

Jane laughed and shook her head and answered: “You weren’t, I mean, this who building is filled with stuffy academics and suddenly this random dude walks in with the scars of a thug? That’s weird.”

Jesse nodded and asked: “What do you think happened to him?”

“I don’t know.” Jane shrugged, “But it seems pretty rude to just ask.”

Jesse sighed, then perked up with a realization: “We could plant a seed in Sams head.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Jane said, mischief bubbling up inside her eyes. They had known Sam since their first year and were pretty close with the guy. Sam was also known for not being the most delicate or observant and unafraid to ask personal questions. If he was curious, he would ask.

“I would.” Jesse grinned back, she tugged her along through the crowd with an: “Come on!”

They found Sam easy enough and Jesse plopped down next to him and started: “Hey, Sam. What did you think of our new professor?”

Sam shrugged and scratched his forehead as he said: “Dressed like every other pretentious asshole in here, posh accent. But seemed to know his stuff. Normal teacher if you ask me. Why?”

Jesse inflated: “Come on. Don’t tell me you haven’t even noticed!”

“Noticed what?” Sam asked with a frown.

“The scars.” Jane said.

“Oh, were they scars.” Sam said, “I thought he had weird freckles.”

“Weird fr-” Jesse began before cutting herself off and asking: “Aren’t you curious why they’re there? I’ve never seen scars like that.”

“And the burnt hand and the scar on his neck.” Jane continued, “Those don’t appear randomly.”

Both looked at her now, heads to the side in confusion. Jane said: “Oh, didn’t see those?”

Jesse and Sam shook their heads. “Well,” Jane explained, “He has this burn on his hand like he gripped a hot burning coal or something and this line here,” she drew on her neck with her finger to signal where it was, “like someone tried to slit his throat. Makes me wonder what he did before this job.”

The three of them fell silent. Lost in thought to what could’ve happened to their new mysterious professor before all of this.

~

The next lesson didn’t clear anything up in the slightest. While they were discussing the 17th century literature circles Sam had raised his hand signaling he had a question. Jane and Jesse, who had decided to sit behind him tensed up. He got called on and asked: “Dr. Sims, what did you do before this?”

Dr. Sims frowned and pushed up his glasses, before saying: “You don’t have to call me doctor, it wouldn’t be deserved. Just Sims is fine, or Mr. Sims if that feels better. And I’m the A- an archivist.”

“Am?” Sam blurted out.

Sims laughed humorlessly and said: “Yeah, part time now.”

Then he went back to the lesson and didn’t acknowledge any more questions about his life. Jane didn’t know how he did it, but he seemed to just know which people had questions about the lesson and which about him.

She walked out the hall with Sam and Jesse, who said: “That wasn’t insightful at all.”

Jane agreed: “Yeah, in what danger would an archivist be that leaves that kind of scarring?”

Sam shrugged and pulled out his phone as he said: “I can Google it.” the he muttered more to himself: “What kind of danger experiences an archivist, cool yeah.”

Jesse strained her neck to look on his screen and asked: ‘Well, what does it say?”

“Nothing much actually. Just a bunch of online archives and stuff.” Sam said.

Jane had a bit of a light bulb moment and suggested: “What if you type in Jonathan Sims?”

“Jonathan?” Jesse asked.

Jane shrugged and said: “It’s how he introduced himself during the first lecture.”

Sam typed in the name and his eyebrows crept further up to his hairline as he read the results of his search. Jesse couldn’t take it anymore and ripped the phone out of his hand, quickly scanning the page and gasping. Jane was now also curious and asked: “Well, tell me.”

She showed her the screen and Jane read the headlines. ‘Explosion at the Wax Museum, two survivors.’ The small excerpt reads: Last night there was an explosion at the wax museum, cause is still unknown, but suspected attack. Two survivors were found on the scene. Basira Hussain and Jonathan Sims, the latter of which is in a coma…

Underneath that is another headline. ‘Attack at the Magnus Institute unearths body of former archivist Gertrude Robinson’ with a picture of a big fire brigade, some police and an ambulance under it, she can vaguely make out Sims getting loaded into the back of one of them.

And lastly a small report into the murder of Gertrude Robinson, listing Jonathan Sims as one of the suspects along with one about an older guy, who was apparently found dead in Sims office.

Jane leaned back and whispered: “What the actual fuck.”

After that the rumors spread over the campus and by the time the next lecture rolled around the whole room was buzzing with nervous energy. Sims took one look around the room and sighed: “You are probably not going to let this go in favor of learning something that will actually be useful. Correct?”

A murmur went through the crowd, they had realized that the rumors had most likely reached Sims, but they hadn’t realized he’d be so straightforward about it.

“Okay.” Sims said, “I am willing to sacrifice ten minutes of my lecture for inquiries, but I will not promise to answer.”

Then he waited. Sam was the first to raise his hand and when called upon he asked: “How did you get the scars?”

Sims thought about it, the class thought he was thinking about how to bring it delicately and thoughtful, but inside Jons mind he heard Martin laugh at him and tell him he was an idiot after Jon had told someone the round scars had come from tripping. In hindsight it hadn’t been a good excuse, so Jon decided that vague was probably the safest way to go and said: “A workplace incident.”

Without raising his hand this time Sam asked: “Did it happen during the attack on your workplace? Why would anyone even attack archives?”

“The Archives are a small place in a big organization.” Jon began to explain, ignoring the fact that the Archives had been the target, “And in the end it turned out to be an aggressive infestation, just an accident.”

“Why your institute then?” Sam asked.

“Depends on if you believe in the paranormal, but you have to excuse me, Mr. Jacobs. It seems you are not the only one with questions.” Sims replied, then he turned to the other side and said: “Yes, Ms. Hendrickson?”

“Did you murder anyone?” she asked, clapping her hand over her mouth afterwards in shame of the question that she had blurted out.

Sims didn’t react to the harsh and accusatory question, just said: “If I murdered anyone, I wouldn’t be here, but in prison, don’t you agree?” then he smiled, but somehow Jane didn’t feel comforted by it.

Jesse spoke up, causing Jane to duck into herself in the hope that she wouldn’t be noticed in her seat next to Jesse. She asked: “Then who murdered them?”

Sims huffed a breath, blowing a strand of hair out of his face in the process and answered: “That would’ve been my former boss, I have to say I’m happy to see him gone and his replacement is more than capable.” he looked at the clock and clapped his hands, making more than a few people flinch. Then he stated: “That’s enough questions, time’s up. Lets get back to the symbolism in poetry during the Renaissance.”

And so life continued with Sims as their professor. There was still something uneasy about him, like he was just a sliver off in a way you couldn’t pinpoint, but felt in your bones.

But he was actually quite nice. Which was weird in itself, since he could be pretty prickly and snappy if he found your reasoning or answer particularly stupid or ignorant and he was generally grumpy, but that changed completely if you actually had a problem and needed help. He would listen and then explain with the things you could understand, it was as if he could look at you and know what you needed to understand. That was also strange, but it was nice to have someone explain so correctly.

He was also a walking encyclopedia. He had fun fact about everything and when they said everything they meant everything. When he noticed Mary had died her hair he said: “I like your hair, did you know hair dye contains over 5.000 chemicals.”

Then when Jamie asked what kind of tea he was drinking he answered: “Lady Grey, it was created by Twinings in the early 1990s to appeal to the Nordic market, which found Earl Grey too strong.”

While discussing Oscar Wilde he commented: “Funny how important this guy is, since he has only published one novel in his life.”

When Kyra stumbled in late telling him the taxi had broken, he replied with: “Well cars have about 30.000 parts, so it isn’t far fetched that something broke.”

The funniest part about it was that it just happened to slip out it seemed. He was also just as surprised as them when something like that tumbled out of his mouth and he always covered it up with a small cough, before ignoring it had happened and moving on with his lesson.

It had become a bit of a game among students to make him say a fun fact. Sims had caught on to it, but he didn’t seem to mind all that much, his lips only tightening the littlest amount and his eyes tiring slightly.

So all in all, after two moths of lessons they felt like they knew the guy. He was nice in a grumpy way, could tear you apart verbally if he wanted to, had a lot of facts and worked part time as an archivist, which was apparently a pretty dangerous job.

Jane, Jesse and Sam had become pretty close to him, often staying after class to ask a few questions about the subject, help clean up, try to pry into his private life. The last thing never seemed to work, but it was fun to try and Sims had never let on that he minded it. He even seemed to enjoy their little chats.

Then one time after class, he suddenly looked up, frowned and stalked out of the hall. Quickly sharing glances the three followed after him, curious what had gotten his attention so suddenly.

They walked through a bunch of the main halls, then through a few quiet corridors until they were much further than hearing range, making them slightly uncomfortable. There was a kid, first year probably, barely an adult still very much baby faced, crying on the floor, knees drawn tight to his chest.

Cautiously Sims approached him and gently lowered himself to the ground. The kid looked up at him with a startled face, but Sims shushed him and gently asked: “What’s wrong?”

There was something off about the words, something compelling. The kid starts to speak, he had a slightly northern accent: “It’s all so different here with the big buildings and large crowds with loads of people everywhere, still I’m all by myself. No one want to talk to the dumbass from north, who has trouble with the tubes, you know.” he sniffled a sad chuckle, “And everything is just so overwhelming and I have no one to guide me or to talk to and I hate it. Then I saw everyone just talking about a party and I know it’s dumb, but I heard them say they were going to invite everyone and someone asked even me, but then they laughed and said of course not and I just couldn’t anymore, so I went here and I cried.”

It seemed he was finished and went back to small sniffles and silent tears. Sims gently put a hand on the kids knee and said: “Did that help?”

“Yeah,” the kid looked at him, “bit cathartic, honestly. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, Edward.” Sims said.

The kid didn’t seem to realize it, but the three silent watchers noticed the kid had never mentioned his name.

Sims went on: “If you like, you can come over to my lecture hall. There are a few older years there, nice people, who I’m sure will want to help you. And a cup of tea.”

Edward rubbed his eyes and said: “They wouldn’t want to talk to me, I’m a loser and I don’t want the to think I’m even more one by telling them what happened.”

“I’m sure you won’t have. They’ve been where you are.” Sims responded, there was a bit of an edge to his voice and they realized he knew they were there and he was right. Jesse had been too brash, Jane too shy and Sam too blunt, it’s what had made them flock together. It was much better now, but they all remembered those awful first weeks. Without saying a word they hurried back to Sims hall.

When he came back they were making tea and lounging around. Jesse greeted him: “Hey, Sims. Where were you suddenly off to?”

Jane pushed her slightly and said: “Don’t pry.” then she turned back, “Want a cuppa, we just put on the kettle?”

Sims smiled and said: “I’d like that, could you make one for my friend, Edward here, as well. I had forgotten I was going to meet him, he’s curious about the Minor course and I thought maybe you could tell him a bit about it. If it isn’t any trouble, of course.”

“Of course not.” Jane smiled, then gestured to a chair: “Here, come sit with us.”

Edward did and later left feeling much better with a few new friends.

Friends, who were beginning to be suspicious about their teacher. They had a lengthy discussion about his knowing stuff and his spooky vibe. But no certain conclusion could be made and they decided that the mission for this year was finding out at least one personal fact about their teacher to prove he was at least somewhat normal.

They didn’t have to wait long. Their classes had been thrown around due to an unfortunate miscommunication. So two classes were switched, causing Sims to teach on Wednesday instead of Thursday for just one week. He looked a bit pale that day, but nothing out of the ordinary. It was the season, so no one spared it a second thought. Until a larger man came through the door after a gentle knock.

He was tall, about 6ft2, and chubby with a crème sweater and jeans. His face was freckled and he wore a gentle smile like it was second nature. His hair was curly and looked very soft, he in his entirety looked soft, you know, like the kind of person you know gives good hugs the moment you see them.

Sims was the only one who didn’t seem startled by his knock, just looked at the man and frowned as he said: “Martin, what are you doing here?”

“Sorry, sorry, Jon.” the man, Martin, said apologetically, “I know you said not to come and such, but I saw you had forgotten your statement and I know how you can get without them, so I thought I’d bring them to you.”

“I was going to read it tomorrow.” Sims said, “It can wait for one day. It’s not like it used to be.”

“Yeah, I know that as well, but we agreed that a rhythm would be good for you and your body to get used to.” Martin replied, holding out a folder.

Sims grabbed the folder and sighed: “You’re probably right, annoying as that may be, but couldn’t it wait till after I was done?”

“No, I’m meeting Daisy to discuss the proper storage of a Hunt artifact and you know how Daisy can be.” he answered.

“Yeah, I know.” Sims chuckled, absentmindedly touching the scar on his neck.

“Besides, I wanted to see you.” Martin said, then he brushed a lock of hair, that had freed itself from Sims’ messy bun, behind Sims ear and pecked him on the cheek. Turning to leave immediately after calling out over his shoulder: “Read it, Jon! And don’t forget to pick up milk on the way back if you want any good tea.”

Martin opened the door and Sims smiled, like a real and soft and dopey smile, as he touched his cheek and yelled back: “I will, say hi to Daisy from me.”

Then Martin was gone and the silence that had fallen over the hall with Martins entrance was broken. Multiple people called out questions and it was a bit of a chaos. It took a few minutes to get everyone settled down again and Sims returned to his lecture as if nothing happened. Sam called out from the second row: “Really, Sims? Nothing?”

Sims shoulders sagged, he had clearly hoped he could get away with it and was sad that it hadn’t worked. He said: “Mr. Jacobs, although I appreciate your interest in my personal life, I hope that I don’t have to explain how normal it is for my husband to come bring me something I forgot at home.”

The hall exploded again, but Sims ignored it all again telling them there were more important things to talk about, for example the lecture, which will be on the exam.

For Jane, Jesse and Sam it was enough. Their teacher was weird and off, but he was nice enough and if someone as soft looking as the Martin figure was willing to marry him, then he was good enough in their opinion and not worth the detective work.

Come Into My Life

This is my entry for @nekoannie-chan​‘s 500 followers’ writing competition. This is a Thor fanfiction series inspired on the song “Entra en mi Vida”. I had a blast writing it and I loved the song even more.

Song Prompt: ”Entra en mi vida” by Sin Bandera

Warnings: none??

Author’s note: Okay, all seriousness guys, what the fuck? So, you guys just...let me call Ghost “Shadow” and didn’t bother to correct me? really guys? really?? Is this where we are now? woooow, there’s no autocorrect here.

Summary: You and Thor just can’t seem to be on the same page, about anything.

----

“You seem to think this is something you can hide from.”

----

Part Two: Después de cinco minutos, ya eras alguien especial  

Mjölnir kept disappearing. But that could have been Steve's fault. Or Vision. So, that's understandable.

Then Stormbreaker kept disappearing as well. There was no Vision. And Steve had long given up his avenging days.

Both weapons came back, they always did. But Stormbreaker seemed to be adamant in taking its sweet time. Which, under any circumstances, wouldn't be a problem. Except, Thor is still an Avenger. He still has work - work that required his weapon - to do.

You were in the kitchen with Sam, arguing - like you always did - about something when Thor walked in, looking for that damned axe.

You had met a handful of times, but you tended to avoid the group as much as you could. Sam, Shadow and Hope were as far as you were willing to go, Thor had realised, and socialising with you didn't seem all too appealing to him.

Thor wasn't focusing on either of you, eyes too busy dancing around the room as he tied his hair back. The quinjet was set to leave in fifteen minutes and all that was missing from his battle attire was that cursed thing.

"This is exactly why I don't like coming here-" your complaining broke through his cloud of thought and his eyes went to you. "--seriously, Sam, you are the worst host ever. What am I supposed to do with you gone?"

Sam rolled his eyes, rolling his shoulders back a bit before attaching his wings. "Talk to people. Your favourite cyborg is staying behind, so you two can talk about those babies you wanted to give him."

You scoffed and reached over the counter for the sugar dispenser. "The love of my life is currently sulkin--"

Before you could grab the sugar, your fingers instinctively wrapped around a wooden staff. Sam, too focused on making sure he had everything he needed, missed the complete look of annoyance on your face and shock on Thor's face.

There, in your hand, was Stormbreaker. His Stormbreaker. And, instead of being confused, you sighed and tossed it aside before grabbing the sugar as you had intended to. As if nothing had happened.

"Damn thing needs a leash," you mumbled to yourself, stirring the sugar into the originally-Sam's-but-now-yours tea.

Asgard was no stranger to prophecies. And Thor had heard enough of them growing up to tell which was a farce. But this...

No...

It couldn't be...

Surely, it was a temporary glitch. It had to be.

Because a dying star couldn't have forged a King's weapon, only so an idiot could easily wield it.

It's not that Thor thought you were stupid or not worthy. It's just that he thought you were an idiot and a complete nutcase.

You put a target on your back and refused any security that Fury had to offer. You're still convinced that your Uber driver won't do you any harm. And you sleep with your bedroom window unlocked.

You were an idiot.

A complete and utter idiot.

So, why did he instantly seek out your scent whenever he breathed?

Why does the thought of you, anywhere near him, suddenly make it hard to think about anything else?

And, for the love of all that is good, why won't you look at him? Actually look at him. Not those glances and polite eye contact you share with everyone else.

There are so many prophecies, too many that weren't true and too little that were. Thor could always tell which were a farce and which weren't.

But now, he was the idiot that couldn't understand why his axe was more responsive to you, than him.

-----

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Is Fury's response to the Captain's questions.

The Avenger's Compound had been turned into the current base of operations for both the new SHIELD and the Avengers. With the exception that the Captain was the one overlooking everything, alongside Fury.

Hope didn't waste time shoving you into her car -- as always -- and dragging you to the compound with everyone else. And then, because that's never enough, they shoved you into the meeting room with everyone else, while Captain went to bring Fury.

Sighing, you lean against your chair and turn to look at Thor. The Asgardian had been sitting on the couch when you were shoved onto it, watching the whole scene unfold while he munched away on a bowl of cereal.

You eyed his outfit and frowned. "Why is it that every time I see you, you're always trying out a new look?"

He blinked at you, mid-chew with a trail of milk going from the corner of his lip into his beard.

"First, it was the whole medieval knight thing, then the carpenter look, then the whole lumberjack thing. And now--" you waved at his sweatpants, fingerless gloves and what look to be a sweater. "--you're... what is this? And why does it look so comfortable?"

"Really? You expect us to believe that SHIELD is being funded by all that money?" Sam fired back at Fury. "With all that new equipment that keeps rolling in? Do we look stupid to you, Fury?"

Fury raised an eyebrow. "You want me to answer that?"

"I will!" You jumped in, raising your hand as you tuned in. "Yes, you do look stupid. In fact, you're the reason I know what stupid looks like. And I got in an Uber without checking if it was my driver or not, this morning."

"You did what?!" Thor barked.

You rolled your eyes and waved off the man that's decided to be a pain in your ass. "Calm down, security update. I can take care of mys--

"Calm down?!" Thor tossed the bowl across the room to properly glare at you. "You are so adamant on putting your life at risk every damn chance you get! You are, arguably, the most hated person on every ex-Hydra agent's list. And you--"

You don't bother to sit through the rest of that lecture. You avoid going to the compound for that exact reason. In fact, you avoid Thor for that exact reason. The first time you met the Asgardian, he spent most of the introductions helping Fury tell you all about how you were going to live your life now -- and all the safety measures you'd have to take.

As if you hadn't been raised by one of the world's greatest sleeper agent.

"This guy, am I right?" You scoffed as you got up, consequently getting him to get up. "Who died and made him Jarvis?"

"I am speaking to you!" He is front of you, towering over you, blue eyes swimming with rage, as he glared at you.

"Carpet damn, Asgardian. Carpet damn."

Ghost, from the other side of the room, cut in. "It's Carpe diem, shithead."

"I'm freestyling, thank you very much." You shot back.

"Can we get back to the matter at hand?" Captain Flightless called out. "Thor. Please, calm down. Take a seat."

"I will not calm down nor take a seat," he glares down Mr Red, White and Break-your-brand-new-car. "Her safety is just as important as the matter. What do you think will happen if the wrong people get their hands on her? SHIELD signing a deal with her company will be the least of your worries!"

You turned at Ghost. "Is it too late to bring back Thanos? I just wanna see something..."

"You know--" Sam flicked your ear. "--if he comes back, you're gonna get dusted too, right?"

"Exactly. That way, I get to see him beat the shit out of an entitled thunder-summoning, cape-wearing, overbearing, self-proclaimed mighty asshole!" You glared at Thor, then turned back to Sam. "And then, finally see what y'all were doing as dust particles."

"Thor does have a point--" Fury cuts in, crossing his arms.

"Doesn't that leather trench coat get hot?" You point at it, because you were sure as hell not having this conversation again.

"Pierce may have been Hydra, but even he knew how messed up things would be if you were in the wrong hands--"

"You say that like I can shoot lightning bolts out of a gavel."

"It was a hammer." Thor grits out.

Fury ignores you both. "--things aren't as they used to be. The threats aren't only Thanos, Loki, or any other alien tyrant."

"That's mean. Thor isn't an alien." You feign a point.

"We need to consider the threats here, on Earth, as well." Thor ignores your jab. "Like, I've always been saying. The scale of destruction and terror that criminals could cause if they got a hold of just a small percentage of Hydra tech. Just look at what Ultron had accomplished--"

You stare blankly at the tower of a man in front of you. "You mean the computer upgrade that Tony created? With a weapon that is no longer on Earth, in this timeline? With Hydra tech from a Hydra lab, on that floating, vibranium powered island that you destroyed?"

"The point is--"

"I have lived in hiding my entire life," you narrow your eyes at the ignorant would-be-king. "Security protocols, safe houses, different identities, around-the-clock security, all of that bullshit that you're suggesting I know nothing about-- yeah, that was all I knew about. I know where every entrance and exit of every room I walk into is. I plan for an escape, before I even step foot out of my place.

"I did not come here so you can tell me how to continue living the lifestyle that I was raised to live--" You're glaring and baring your teeth and ready to rip him a new one. "--My keepers are dead. You will sooner change the nature of a cat, before you turn your little pride of vigilantes into my security detail."

He doesn't say anything. He can't. He knows better than to argue with you when you're like this; angry and on the verge of lashing out.

So, he just stares back at the idiot that won't stop haunting his every thought. The idiot that can wield a weapon he nearly died for. The idiot that won't understand why he bickers when it comes to her safety.

Sam sighs as he crashes on the couch. "At that's the tea."

Tags: @nekoannie-chan​, @thorfanficwriter​

don’t rush | 01

pairing: Yoongi/reader 

genre: slight enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, eventual smut, classical pianist!yoongi, violinist!reader, they’re both actually really into each other but won’t admit it

warnings (for this chapter only): y/n has awful stage fright/performance anxiety, alcohol is mentioned, swearing, sexual references

words: 6.6k 

rating: +18

summary: You know, when Min Yoongi's face isn't screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you'd have no trouble falling in love with. Or, the conservatory au where Yoongi helps you get over your stage fright. In more ways than one.

a/n: I’ve been reading fanfics for years and finally bit the bullet! I’m currently working on the other chapters and will have them up soon... and I promise there will be significantly more action in them ;) This is also crossposted to ao3, so you can check it out there too! 

You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Even the back of his head is enticing as you stare at him in the middle of your Beethoven lecture. You struggle to focus to take notes on Beethoven’s genius deviations from sonata form, as Yoongi leans back and stretches his arms above his head. You wish you could see him from the front, see what his expression looks like when he’s not telling you to get the fuck out of his practice room. Instead, you settle for watching him bounce his leg up and down, now hunched over his notes.

Fuck, it’s been a long time since you’ve felt that uneasiness in the pit of your stomach. The butterflies start to bubble up every time you see him, even in passing. You’ve never been able to escape his presence on campus, seeing him everywhere but never actually speaking.

Any time you’ve seen him on campus, he’s always with Taehyung - Taehyung being the other violinist in the tiny music department. You see them often on campus, walking together between the cafe and the music building. You see Yoongi when he’s alone in the cafe, nursing a coffee and brooding over some orchestral score, or in passing when you’re run-walking between classes to reserve your favorite practice room before anyone else can. And since both of you are music majors in the same year, you’ve shared a majority of the music classes that you’ve taken up until now.

You wonder if he can see the longing written all over your face when you see him in classes, but he never spares you more than a second glance. If that. The most likely scenario is that he doesn’t know you even exist.

Whenever you see him though, all you can do is bite down the nervousness and replay the last (and also first) time that you spoke to him. The hard look in his eye, the way that he slammed the door in your face.

The first time that you talked to Min Yoongi, you could barely look him in the eye. And it’s not because he’s maddeningly gorgeous and even more intimidating. Well, a little bit.

The lack of eye contact had more to do with the fact the headache that had been plaguing you was starting to threaten your ability to stand up straight. Even through your blurry vision and the disapproving pout on his face, he was still so. Fucking. Hot. How was any of this fair?

The exchange you shared with Yoongi was just another incident in the long string of unfortunate mishappenings that one Tuesday morning.

That morning, you weren’t sure if it was your alarm or your throbbing head that woke you up. If the alarm was bothering your roommate, she didn’t stir from her side of the room. You had tried to will yourself awake, making out patterns in the ceiling tile, vision blurring.

You remembered weighing your options, like you did every single morning. You could drag your ass out of bed, and pick up some coffee before rushing to reserve your favorite practice room in the music building. You could take the time to run through some drills for your lesson this week, a little extra practice to escape the scrutiny of your violin teacher.

Or, you could go back to sleep for another couple of hours and just tell your teacher that you’re sick. You groan, knowing what the answer is supposed to be.

The air was cold when you pushed the covers off your body. Even in the dead middle of a long and difficult winter, your university was still too cheap to enable the central heating in your building. You didn’t need to look outside to know that it had been snowing, your room awash in a white glow that you were all too familiar with. Your roommate was still sound asleep, and you had felt the fleeting spark of jealousy at how peaceful she had looked. You still tiptoed around the room trying to get dressed quickly. You just knew you didn’t get enough sleep last night when it started to feel like you were fighting gravity just trying to put pants on. Everything moved in slow motion, shifting like sand.

When you finally started walking, no, trudging , to the music building, you were disappointed to learn that you were right and that it had been snowing. The wind bit at the soft skin underneath your collar, seeping through the fabric of your jeans. The arrival of your every breath was announced by a plume of white vapor. You fucking hate the cold.

Call it intuition, but you could already tell from the start that today wasn’t going to be a good day. The coffee that you had ordered did nothing to soothe the cold that was beginning to ache from the inside out. It left a waxy taste in your mouth when you knocked back some ibuprofen. As you continued the trek to the music building, coffee kept dribbling out from under the lid and into the sleeve of your jacket. Several times you slipped on the melting ice, only catching yourself at the last moment.

Your hands were numb through and through by the time you got inside, struggling to open the locker that kept your violin safe. Shivering and clutching your violin case in your stiff hands, you made your way inside the hall. The inside of the music building of your university was hardly any refuge compared to the conditions outside. You braced yourself, knowing the ordeal you were inevitably going to go through tuning your violin.

Your violin was a fickle mistress. Be it cold, warm, humid, too humid, not humid enough, or even just bad vibes, your violin would go out of tune. The winter weather had not been easy on your instrument, going sharp at even the drop of a hat.

At that early in the morning, you had (foolishly) hoped your favorite practice room was unoccupied. Well, it’s everyone’s favorite practice room. It’s the only one that isn’t completely gross inside, but it’s really just the better of two evils. It has the newest piano of all the other ones in the building, and also the only room without a draft in it, so you won’t go completely flat after twenty minutes of practice.

With your case in one hand and a coffee in the other, there wasn’t a whole lot of grip you can use to open the door to the practice room. You settled for forcing the crook of your elbow into the doorknob and leveraging your body weight against the door. It took a couple tries, when but you got it open, it wasn’t the empty silence you were expecting.

In the dim light of the doorway, all you saw was the shadow of someone hunched over the piano pressed up against the wall, facing away from you. He was so immersed in his playing that he hadn’t noticed you at first. His sheet music was laid out before him in a neat row, and even from your distance you saw the meticulous markings over the music. It looked like a scene out of a movie, the way it took over his whole body, the way he moved over the keys. You saw it in the way that he moved with the phrases, dipping and swelling. He looked like he had always been there, and he’ll always be there.

The figure stopped playing, back still turned to you. He turned around, looking you in the eye.

Of course. Of all the music students to interrupt, it just had to be Yoongi. Fuck, you hate walking in on people practicing. It’s already like competing in the Hunger Games trying to find a suitable practice room. And half the time the rooms stink of dampness or dining hall food or the tears of the hopeless, so imagine adding salt to the wound by interrupting a practice session.

Your genius first reaction was to jump out of the doorway and let the door slam shut, startled.

Even now, sitting two rows behind him in lecture, weeks later, you still cringe at what you had done. You grip your pen a little tighter, trying to keep up with the rest of the class. But you still can’t help yourself from reliving the memory.

~

You had stood outside, frozen in shame.

Before you had the chance to flee, one Min Yoongi appeared at the door. His face was twisted not into a grimace, but it definitely wasn’t a smile, either.

“What do you want,” He huffed out, “I was in the middle of something.”

“Sorry, I-I thought this room was empty.” The words get caught in your throat. You mentally kicked yourself for starting to blush.

“It’s not.” He gestured at his backpack on the ground, various method books littered at his feet. You two stared back at each other, at an impasse.

You remember his tired sigh. “Do you need anything else?” You couldn’t read anything in his expression, taken aback at how curt he had been.

“Uh, no.” You tightened your grip on the handle of your case, and felt the warmth of the coffee seeping into your palm. At that point, there wasn’t a lot left tethering you right now. The heartbeat in your head was beginning to become tangible.

“Okay then. I’m sure there are other practice rooms you can use.” He shut the door, returning to whatever he was practicing, leaving you in stunned silence. If Yoongi was playing right now, you couldn’t hear it.

So there you were, standing in the hall of the music building in the early morning, two hours left until your lesson. Coffee was still dripping down your sleeve, Min Yoongi just slammed a door in your face, and your head feels like it’s going to fucking explode.

Damn you, you had thought to yourself, cursing him through the door. Damn you and your arrogance, and your trendy wire-rimmed glasses, and your long delicate fingers. You stormed off (more like stumbled, given the state of your head) to the adjacent practice room, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

Okay, maybe you were being a little overdramatic. He didn’t exactly slam the door in your face. And you didn’t knock. If you didn’t know any better, you would have assumed that he was just being cold. But you’ve been the person in the practice room and you’ve never been thrilled to find that someone had walked in on you after fighting tooth and nail for a practice room.

In a way, it was also about power. You walked in on him in a compromised position, like he was in a state of undress. Well, he kind of was. In your own experience you hate to have anyone hear what you haven’t chosen to show, anything you haven’t perfected to show the outside world. You hate being walked in on, but maybe it’s just you.

Maybe Yoongi was pissed that you had heard him working on a piece that he was struggling with. Maybe he hated your guts. Maybe he was so overwhelmed by your powerful sexual presence that he had no choice but to close the door in your face. You would ponder his intentions more, but class was over. You’d have to wait until Friday to see him again.

~

Johann Sebastian Bach is not a bad person. He’s never done you wrong. In fact, you have never even met him. He’s dead, for god’s sake.

But it really does feel something like vengeance from beyond the grave when it’s two a.m. in the morning, slogging through his music and feeling your shoulder burn under the weight of your violin and the unending pressure of never feeling good enough for anybody.

It’s not like you’re playing Bach’s music for your own selfish enjoyment. His piece, the one you’ve been working on, is your one way ticket to a spot in the annual Bach Festival next month. The festival is the pride and joy of the music program, pulling in big performers and big crowds. Any classical musician has a soft spot for Bach, even just a little. Even you do too, but it wouldn’t be fair to say that right now. Not after you’ve spent the better part of an hour trying not to rip your hair out over the same section. Even without the music of the festival, it’s always a good excuse for the performing music majors to get together afterward and get trashy drunk.

Last year at the afterparty, Taehyung had drunkenly told you that he was jealous of your vibrato while Yoongi stood by, watching in abject embarrassment. Even then, Yoongi didn’t offer you any words.

And it’s not like you are playing in the Bach festival out of your own free will. After some gentle coercion (read: the cold, hard eyes of the music department head, Dr. Yang, boring into the depths of your puny musician soul) you found yourself with a whole new piece to add to this semester’s repertoire and only a month to bring it some musical justice and to commit it to memory.

Don’t ever let Dr. Yang ever hear this, but you’ve never liked this partita this much anyway. Fighting the cold dead ghost of J.S. Bach and his charming partitas is the last thing that you want to do every evening when you really could just be doing anything else.

It’s most definitely not like you’re any stranger to performing and you really want this opportunity, truly. But blending into the gentle melody of the rest of your string quartet or the roar of the orchestra is worlds away from being alone on stage. There’s a comfort in the safety that comes from numbers. It’s easy enough to play for your teacher. The space that the both of you exist in is just right: you see her once a week, and she’s paid to deliver you with honest criticism. It’s straightforward, a mutual agreement.

But performing is different. It’s easy enough to be vulnerable like that in front of someone that just wants you to do better. Someone that you pay to make you get better. Someone that’s been doing it for the better part of their life and will understand the craft better than you ever will. But an open concert hall with anyone? That’s too much.

You’ve tried everything short of hard drugs to remedy the stage fright. Deep breathing exercises, imagining everyone before you is naked (which really, really makes it worse), carbo-loading. At this point, your body rejects performing. The fear is all-consuming and overwhelming. And the worst part is you know it’s all in your head.

What could you possibly be afraid of? You know you’ve paid your dues, prepared months in advance for these performances and yet your head swims, your heart plays pinball in your insides, your hands tremble at the prospect. There is still something profoundly vulnerable about stepping out on stage alone, the click of your heels echoing through the concert hall, a prelude of what’s to come. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise knowing that every eye in the room is trained on you.

You really don’t have a choice in the matter. Your role in the Bach festival was long decided before you ever stepped foot on campus this semester. The music department has been planning this since the beginning of the academic year, and it’s not surprising that your name might have come up during the meetings that decided who would be on the program.

Even so, these kinds of late nights are not new.

The pressure of this semester took you off guard. The coursework is more than you’re used to, stretched too thin between violin lessons, quartet rehearsals, orchestra rehearsals. Neverending rehearsals.  And then there’s the matter of your actual classes. You cringe at the thought of the philosophy paper due next week, the calculus problem set (which, by the way, why the hell did your advisor make you take this class?) due two days from now, the growing number of readings that you always mean to do. (But never do until the night before the midterm.)

After running through the same sections over and over with little progress, maybe, you decide, it’s time for a little break. Eyes bleary, you stifle a yawn as you place your violin back into its case. You gently sweep the rosin off the strings and the varnished exterior with a soft cloth, with the kind of love that a mother has for a newborn baby. You elect to leave your backpack and violin case in the practice room, promising yourself to come back and work on it some more before you leave for the night.

The only thought on your mind is the comfort of the broken-in couch that lives in the hallway of the second floor of the music building. It’s been there longer than you have, longer than anyone at this school has been. The couch is shaped like a lopsided smile, creaking underneath your weight when you lay down on it.

This is the only relief you’re going to get today, aside from when you finally go back to your dorm room to sleep. Just a couple minutes out here to rest, and you should be able to go inside and maybe run through the piece a couple more times.

When you finally relax, your joints ache and the pricking pain comes back to your fingertips. Blood wells up in the calluses on your left hand, but it’s nothing new. Maybe you have been overworking yourself a little, but all of that pales in comparison to the deadlines looming over your head for the next couple months. A couple sleepless nights mulling over pieces in the practice room are likely necessary to be able to meet your goals. Well, it's been more than a couple sleepless nights, actually. The past three weeks were all spent here. Anyone in the music building in the evening, any evening, could hear the warble of your violin if they strained their ears enough.

The couch feels too much like the lumpy mattress sitting in your dorm room. Better, actually. A couple minutes of quiet contemplation pass, fidgeting with the hem of your sweatshirt. Your eyelids keep closing not of your own volition, and it’s becoming more and more difficult to open them each time. You drift off into a restless sleep, murky dreams shadowed by all the work that you have cut out for you for the rest of this week.

~

“Hey, hey, y/n.” Something, or someone, rouses you from your sleep. A gentle hand on your shoulder, a soft voice in the distance. You’re too stunned and groggy to do much of anything than bring a hand to cover the lights overhead.

Min Yoongi stands before you, coffee in hand. He’s making that face that he’s always making, lips drawn in a tight line and brow furrowed in what looks a lot like disdain.

Before you get the chance to say anything, memories of the last time you spoke flood you.

“It is y/n, right? Your name is y/n?” You realize your compromised position, prone and folded up on the sagging couch.

“Um, yeah.” You sit up, running a hand through your hair, trying not to make your embarrassment apparent. He doesn’t say anything else, just looking at you, evaluating your mess of a person.

“Sorry,” you say, sounding sheepish despite yourself. You can only hope that you weren’t sleeping with your mouth open.

“Sorry for what? The only thing you’re doing wrong is sleeping on that damned couch. Do you know how many people have fucked on that thing?”

You stutter, lost for words. Laughter comes out at the seams. It’s the second time that you’ve spoken to him and that’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth, but what else would you expect? Most of your interactions with him to date involve you trying not stare in the middle of your species counterpoint lecture. But who cares about writing perfectly structured harmony when you can stare at his perfectly structured hands?

It’s unfair how good he looks right now, at the witching hour on a weeknight. The aloof, barely present, I-could-totally-be-anywhere-else thing works for him. It works for you, at least.

But none of it matters now, both of you are talking now. It’s past midnight in the creaky music building, anything can happen.

“It’s Yoongi, right?” You question, the grogginess leaving and something else settling in. It’s all for show. Of course you know his name.

He nods in affirmation.

“Why did you have to wake me up in the first place? You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s getting late, you know. I didn’t want you to wake up and realize you’ve been locked inside the music building.” Min Yoongi adjusts his glasses, genuine concern in his eyes when he continues, “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

You relax a little, softening at the edges, leaning more into the sinking couch and away from his imposing gaze. The butterflies return again, and your mind blanks thinking of a response to his concern. You must be really fucked if simple eye contact reduces you to a dysfunctional mess.

“I-I’m fine, just working on this stupid piece. And I can say the same for you. Why are you here so late?” You stutter over your words. Get yourself together. This is your chance to finally talk to him. Just don’t fuck it up now.  

Yoongi bristles where he stands. “Same as you. Why else would I be in the practice rooms so late?” He returns your knowing smile.

“I mean, it’s a college campus. They’re private, soundproof practice rooms. He was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it any more obvious?” Your eyes crinkle at the corners when you smile up at him.

“You’re overestimating me.” He chuckles low and it goes straight to the pit of your stomach.

“Are you playing at the Bach festival?” Yoongi says, moving to sit down next to you, The couch sinks ever lower under his weight. Yoongi was right: people really are fucking on the couch after hours.

“Hoping to, at least. This partita will be the end of me.” You put your head in your hands, groaning. The memory of your previous practice session returns, reminded of all the hours left that you’ll spend chipping away at all the notes. It feels like a weight has returned to your shoulders. Even the thrill of getting to talk to Yoongi isn’t enough to distract you from all the stress of the Bach festival.

“I’m sure it’s fine. You’re here all time, hogging the nice practice rooms. You can’t be practicing this much and have it sound bad.”

“That’s because you’ve never heard me play,” you jab. This conversation isn’t going anywhere, maybe you read it all wrong.

“Well,” he quips, “Maybe you should let me hear you.” When he meets your eye again, there’s something else in his expression.

You weigh your options. This might be one of the only times that you ever speak to Min Yoongi again for the rest of the semester.

Pros: You get to talk to him for longer than three seconds. You get a second, outside opinion from someone who doesn’t play violin.

Cons: You have to actually show him what you’ve been working on.

“If you’re up for it, maybe you could hear me now. I could really use a second opinion on this piece before my lesson next week.” Ugh, fuck it.

You can feel it bubbling up now, the same anxiety in the pit of your stomach. You’ve felt it in the sweltering heat of the backstage behind a velvet curtain, and now you’re feeling it in the stagnant air of the second floor of the music building. But if it gives you a chance to talk to Min Yoongi, you might as well take it.

You watch him consider your words. A silence falls between you both, widening into a maw. Were you too forward? Maybe this was all a mistake. You’ve offered something that he doesn’t want, and this is all going to fall apart, and he’s going to think you’re weird for propositioning him.

You can see it now, two days from now when you see him in your Beethoven lecture. He’ll avoid your gaze as you walk into the classroom, and he’ll have forgotten your name by next semester.

Before you can berate yourself further, Yoongi smiles. He looks surprised, like you’re doing him a favor. “You’d really let me hear you play?”

Relief colors your smile.

“Of course. The best pianist in the whole department, all to myself?” Flattery makes Min Yoongi blush, you discover.

“It’s nice to have someone finally admit it,” Yoongi trails off. “So, are you going to let me hear you play? Sitting on this couch is nice, but you know what this couch is really for.”

“Ha, ha. Sure.” Both of you shuffle to your practice room, Yoongi holding the door open for you. When you brush past him, you can smell the lingering coffee on his breath and whatever laundry detergent he’s using. It’s dizzying.

You begin to take your things out of your case, taking extra care to rosin your bow even though you did it earlier. You take the extra time to wipe the varnished wood of your violin, sweeping at rosin marks that aren’t there just to stretch the time out more.

“So,” you begin, “What were you working on in the other room?”

“I was actually just working on some drills, nothing in particular.” In the meantime, Yoongi takes a seat at the piano bench and it looks like he’s always been there. Like he belongs there, just like that morning in the practice rooms.

Yoongi can tell that you love what you do in the careful, practiced way that you open your case and delicately tighten your bow. He’s never seen you in your element before, not like this, not in this proximity. Yoongi straightens himself in his chair when he realizes that his eyes have trailed from your shoulder rest to your ass.

“Hm, yeah. I should work more on technique practice too… I’ve just been working on repertoire lately. To be honest, I don’t run through my scales as often as I should.”

“You know, it might sound familiar to you. The etude I was working on, I mean. It was the one I was working on when you so rudely barged in on me that one time.” He says, all arrogance. Smugness all over his smile. You hate him for it.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry about that!” You cringe at the memory, “I can’t believe you remember that.” Your efforts at setting up your shoulder rest are twice renewed.

“Of course I do. How can I forget something like that?” Yoongi crosses his arms, leaning back. “Now you’re just making it even.”

You’re too flustered to tell if he’s genuinely flirting, but whatever it is, it does nothing to calm your nervousness.

“Um, before I start, I should probably tell you that it’s kind of rough. Like, I started on it recently, and I’m still not that happy with it…” You trail off, looking unsure. Your violin begins to droop from where it’s resting on your shoulder. The pit of your stomach feels light again, but it’s not arousal or attraction this time, just the same stage fright that’s tormenting you since forever. Yoongi is worried you’ll give into it, put your violin back in the case and pretend this never happened.

“Hey, I really don’t know that much about violin and I don’t even know what your piece is. I just want to hear you play,” Yoongi’s soft tone surprises you. He pauses, slowly meeting your eye, “Please?”

You would do anything to hear that again. To see and hear Min Yoongi sitting before you with those asking eyes, saying please just one more time. Maybe it’s the late hour or lingering delirium from your fevered sleep, but you get the feeling that he doesn’t usually show that to just anyone.

You pretend to consider his words, but you were bought the second that he asked you “please.” You drag out the act as long as you can muster.

He’s still looking at you, asking with his eyes.

“Hmm, okay,” You dig your toe through some invisible spot on the carpet, now too shy to meet his gaze. You move your sheet music on the stand, not that you need to, realizing that your hands are trembling. Performance anxiety bubbles up within you, shaking your heart and hands the same. You tamp it down.

“I’ll show you. But it’s only for you, okay?” This is a low risk situation, he doesn’t know what it sounds like, and if it all goes to shit, just skip sections, you tell yourself, stilling the frantic breath in your lungs. You shut your eyes, blinking, placing your hand in the correct position and the bow resting lightly on the string. One more deep breath and you start to count off in your head, reeling up to play. It’s okay. It’s fine, everything is going to be okay. You ignore his gaze, on you and only you. There’s nothing else to look at but you, anyway. There is only the soundproof padding and the panel mirror mounted to the wall, the piano that sits pressed up against the wall in this cramped up room. You work your way through the scale patterns and the rolled chords that Bach laid out centuries ago, easy going so far. You shut your eyes again.

Yoongi can tell that you’re nervous. Really nervous. He can see the tension in the way you stand, in the way that you tremble when you lift your bow. It doesn’t sit right with him that his simple presence in the practice room unnerves you so much. But it’s not like he’s completely unaware of what he does to you. Yoongi remembers that morning in the practice rooms, vividly. He remembers your doe-eyed expression, silently begging for forgiveness. He also remembers all those furtive glances you take in lecture together, like you didn’t think he’d notice. He thinks it’s cute. Endearing, almost.  

It’s unfair how nervous you seem when he knows how good you are. God knows there have been enough hazy Saturday nights when he’s tipsy, Taehyung’s tipsy, everyone’s tipsy - and Taehyung is complaining about the cute violinist girl with impeccable vibrato and is always hogging the best practice room.

He can see you starting to relax, the passion alight in your eyes, so awake and alive even in the dead of night. You sway on your feet, like this is somewhere glamorous and not a dingy fluorescent practice room. He blushes when the tempo picks up, something else in your expression now, and he notices how dexterous your hands are. What’s even more attractive is the way you seem so removed from everything. He watches the way that the world around you fades away. It’s just you and your music, nothing else that matters in the world.

How could he have ever strained his ears for your muffled playing outside the practice rooms, if this was what was inside?

It’s easier to focus on the sound when you’re not looking at him looking at you. The muscle memory comes back and your mind goes elsewhere, anywhere away from Min Yoongi. You can only hope you’re not pulling an ugly smile, and that your shoulder rest isn’t giving you a double chin. You try to put your focus on the right amount of vibrato, your bow control, the dynamics. Like always, the music sucks you up and pulls you in (even if it is an overplayed Bach partita), pausing only briefly to turn the page on your music. It’s not until the thirty-second note runs until you begin to stutter. Your fingers trip over themselves as you struggle to play them on tempo and that’s when you stop, finally meeting Yoongi’s eyes for the first time after.

“And that’s about as far as I got. I’ll spare you from what the rest sounds like so far. I’d rather show you what I have on tempo first.” You are breathless, but so is Yoongi, but he’d never tell you that. His eyes are dilated, lips parted, cheeks pink. But at this distance you don’t notice, too self-conscious about your performance to focus on anything else. Yoongi hasn’t said anything, just looking at you intently, looking lost in thought. The silence is heavy.

“So… what did you think?” You look less confident than before, more wry and unsure of yourself.

“It was, wow, they weren’t wrong. You sound really good. You are really good.” Yoongi rubs his hands up and down his thighs, hands clammy. He rambles on, “That was great. Thank you, thank you, um, for showing me.”

“What do you mean?” You laugh a little, just to clear the suddenly serious atmosphere. “Who is they?”

“Well, everyone thinks that you’re an amazing violinist. Taehyung has said a lot about you, and some of my other friends have too.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that I had a reputation.” You take the shoulder rest off your violin and put it back into its rightful place, the tiredness settling in deeper into your bones. It’s truly late now.

“Of course you have a reputation, have you heard yourself?” Yoongi sounds incredulous.

“I mean, I thought I was just okay,” You nervously run a hand through your hair. You wipe your violin down again, just to give your hands something to do. You shut the book on the music stand and stow it away in your case.

“You’re more than okay. It sucks to see you doubt yourself. I hope that’s okay for me to say.” Yoongi follows the movement of your hands as you close the clasps on your case, everything packed away. Is it really time to go already?

“I haven’t met a single musician that doesn’t feel that way about their own playing.” You sit next to him on the piano bench. The conversation is more heavy than you would like, too late at night to be introspective, and you just want to get that disappointed expression off his face.

“But yeah, it sucks.”

Yoongi sucks his lower lip between his teeth, sucking in breath. There is mirth in his eyes. “Well, I never get nervous about playing.” He places his hands on the keyboard, taking a sharp breath again. “You’ve probably heard it before, but the trick is to pretend like you know exactly what you’re doing. You just really have to believe in it. And that everyone in the room is naked.” You don’t notice the way that his eyes travel down your body when he says “naked.”

He makes a big show of playing Chopsticks, but he can’t hide his laughter. Neither can you. By the time he’s finished, you are collapsed over the keys, doubled over in laughter. Yoongi stands from the bench and takes a bow. If you weren’t still so nervous, you might have noticed the flush on his cheeks, creeping down into his collar.

“Thank you, thank you.” He pouts. “Where’s my applause?”

You clap your hands for him, greatly exaggerating the motion. “Bravo, bravo,” wiping fake tears from your eyes.

When the laughter fades away, and your heart has calmed down, the silence settles in again. You want to flee, worried that you’ll end up saying the wrong thing. You get up from the bench, stretching your legs a little, not missing how tired your body is. You pick up your case.

Yoongi can’t hide the disappointed expression on his face. “Oh, are you leaving?” He checks the time on his wristwatch. “It is pretty late after all…”

You check the time as well, shocked at the hour. You must have slept longer than you thought, or maybe spending time with Yoongi flew by. “I should be getting back to the dorm, I have early classes tomorrow.”

“Do you live on campus?” Yoongi gets up as well, putting his hands in his pockets, “I could walk you back, it’s not really safe to be walking alone at this hour…”

“Yeah, I live on campus.” You sling your backpack over your shoulder and hug your case to your chest. At this proximity, Yoongi seems a lot taller than you had previously thought. “And that would be really nice. Do you live on campus? I don’t want to make you walk too far.”

“I live in an apartment close to campus, walking distance. It’s really not too much.” Both of you head for the door, exiting the music building into the harsh winter chill. You hug your case a little closer to you, shivering in your thin sweatshirt.

The walk back to your dorm is shorter than you would like, and you are back before you know it. Yoongi distracts you from the bitter chill with his voice on the way back, regaling you with tales of how he discovered what Taehyung was doing with Jungkook, the resident bassoonist, on the couch that you were sleeping on just hours ago.

“Ugh, gross. I’ll never be able to look at the couch the same.” You wrinkle your face in disgust.

You turn around to face him at the staircase in front of your dorm. “So, um, thanks for walking me back.”

You really don’t know what to say to him, so you settle for, “That was fun.”

So that’s all there was. It’d be a lie to say that you weren’t a little disappointed that you couldn’t talk to him more, turn this into something more. But you got what you wanted, didn’t you? You got to talk to him for longer than three seconds, and now the night is over. It seems like he’s forgotten your previous practice room blunder. You turn around again, key in hand. You wonder what else you might have been able to say to him, if maybe you were just a bit braver.

“Bye,” you say, but it comes out as a tired whisper.

“Wait.” His hand closes over the slope of your shoulder, so gentle and featherlight, but your tired body stumbles back anyway.

“Could I-could I maybe… get your number? You should… you should let me return the favor sometime. You can hear me play, if you want to.” When you turn around again, the same pleading, asking expression is back. You follow the movement that his hand makes when he runs his hand through his hair, settling on the nape of his neck. He looks unsure. Like before, you would give anything to see that expression on his face again.

“Silly goose, I’ve already heard you play,” You play coy, but both you and Yoongi can see through it.

“Ha. Ha. I mean really, you should hear me play something a little more difficult. You should see what these hands can really do.” He waggles his fingers, and there’s relief in his eyes when he hears your answering laugh.

“That sounds good. Sure, you can have my number.” Yoongi hands you his phone and you type your number in.

“Goodnight, Yoongi.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

© honsoolie. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of these works, including reposting, translating and modification in any form, is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

These works are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

– to act in haste (pt. 4)

↳ preview

Dr. Sakurai, between acknowledging her company and putting on a smile for the press, let her eyes flit away momentarily from whoever it was she was shaking hands with at that moment. Her lips were pursed in a tight smile in an attempt to keep herself collected amongst the overwhelming attention, and her eyes wandered outside of her immediate surroundings.

And he recognized it. The moment her face fell and her smile faded, he realized that Haruna’s eyes had already met his. 

Her lips parted slightly and then back shut at the sight of him, as if to stop herself just before reacquainting with the feel of Dr. Ramsey’s name on her tongue. 

“Ethan...?”

↳  (pt 1), (pt 2), (pt 3)

◇ pairing: ethan ramsey x mc (haruna sakurai)

◇ genre: angst, a lot of yearning, maybe a little break in between :/

◇ word count: 3.3k+

◇ tags: @aworldoffandoms, @perriewinklenerdie, @jooous​, @senseofduties​, @moteestro​, @haesselnut​, @princessfuzzy12​,

◇ author’s note: to the very limited audience who actually enjoy this fic: thank u for ur patience!! this chapter was so mf hard to write and FOR WHAT. after a couple months of sitting on google docs at 4am trying to update this fic instead of doing my schoolwork like i was supposed to, it turns out this chapter is not the finale at all🤡 ive considered incorporating smut into this since those seem to get notes but that’s one of my literary shortcomings so im gonna refrain and save face✨ feedback appreciated, yall know the drill xoxoxo luv u guys

chapter four

Diamonds. Oh, how that woman loved diamonds.

Carbon atoms arranged in a tetrahedral structure. The hardest natural substance on Earth. Yet another natural phenomenon upon which mankind had imposed their shallow, materialistic beliefs. 

But he bought one anyway; kept that damn two carat, marquise cut ring in the bottom drawer of his bedside table for five years. The velvet box sat in the dark that entire time, unworn and collecting dust, thus Dr. Ramsey couldn’t help but wonder if it was still suitable for the hospital heiress it was intended for. 

“Dr. Sakurai will be present as the keynote speaker.”

Harper regarded Ethan carefully when she said it, far too aware of his and the younger doctor’s history. Ethan met her pensiveness with a simple nod of his head.

“I see. She’s made quite a name for herself.” 

“You’re taking this surprisingly well.” Dr. Emery observed, raising a brow, “I was expecting a bit of protest in attending, but you seem fine.” 

But Dr. Ethan Ramsey was not, in fact, fine. 

“Have you seen her?” Harper continued, 

“Aurora ran into her in Manila, doing some philanthropy it seems. She looks different, might be the afterglow of success. Might be that boyfriend she brought along too.”

That what? 

It didn’t necessarily come as a surprise, but he still stopped listening. He’d tuned Harper out, something about the boy being on Haruna’s research team in Japan, a prodigy that interned at the WHO when he was only fourteen; Harper said they were a good match, but Dr. Ramsey, as a final form of consolation, hoped he’d heard her wrong.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, because Dr. Ethan Ramsey was far too old and far too calculated to rely on something as subjective as a “marriage pact”. Blurted on a whim, didn’t keep in touch, hell, he wasn’t even sure if he still remembered her face. That shallow promise they made five years ago came with too many uncertainties, and far be it from him to be bitter over her newfound happiness.

So his silence spoke for him, living a life of 52 seconds before Harper noticed he’d gone quiet. He earned a glance from his colleague, Dr. Emery trailing off and sparing him a thoughtful look. Her gaze softened in realization, and she bit her lip regretfully.

“Oh, Ethan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you still-” 

“I don’t.” He snapped. 

Bullshit. 

He released a long, drawn out breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, collecting himself. But the damage had been done, and nothing he could say would wipe the suspicion off Harper’s face. The rueful shake of her head and the sympathetic pat of his arm told him all he needed to know. 

“I mean it.” Ethan said, the excessive sternness of his tone taking away the credibility of his statement.

“Dr. Sakurai is…”

A pause. 

“She’s nothing to me.” 

–––––

And he was so damn wrong.

Ethan and June boarded a flight to Kyoto two days later, and for the entire duration until the conference, Dr. Ramsey was concerned at his own indifference. 

Concerned, but desperate to believe it.

He wasn’t sure what to expect out of seeing her again, but some sick part of him wanted to have fallen out of love with her. Then that meant he wouldn’t have to care at the blatant reminder that she was with someone else. He wouldn’t have to admit that she was probably better off with someone that wasn’t him. Most of all, he wouldn’t have to pretend that the idea of them never getting a second chance didn’t absolutely shatter him.

But it wasn’t that easy. It was never that easy. 

Because there he was, standing on the outer circle of a ring of reporters and conference guests that demanded the young doctor’s attention. Like the crowd, Ethan was completely and wholly entranced by her and it was in the moment that he realized–

Haruna Sakurai still meant everything to him.

Her hair had been cut short, its length reaching her chin and dyed a shade alike to walnuts. She wore glasses now and on the bridge of her nose rested thin circular frames that accentuated her ovular face, Haruna’s features fixed in a permanent smize as she charmed the crowd with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The woman trickled in ivory and quartz from head to toe, and Ethan’s breath caught in his throat at the memory of how much he loved her.

How much he still loves her.

Dr. Sakurai, between acknowledging her company and putting on a smile for the press, let her eyes flit away momentarily from whoever it was she was shaking hands with at that moment. Her lips were pursed in a tight smile in an attempt to keep herself collected amongst the overwhelming attention, and her eyes wandered outside of her immediate surroundings.

And he recognized it. The moment her face fell and her smile faded, he realized that Haruna’s eyes had already met his.   

Her lips parted slightly and then back shut at the sight of him, as if to stop herself just before reacquainting with the feel of Dr. Ramsey’s name on her tongue. 

“Ethan...?”

She looked at him like he was some figment of her imagination, breathing his name like saying it was an anchor to keep the man from disappearing. Dr. Ramsey could almost feel himself unravel if not for the deadwood that entered the scene.

Satoshi Date.

The boyfriend.

God, her fucking boyfriend.

He was stuck to her like glue, a hand protectively encased around her shoulder as Haruna caught herself and resumed in indulging the crowd. She smiled proudly and crossed her arms, everything but her wrists and beautifully manicured hands hiding underneath the cape of her white pantsuit. Her male company, just as charismatic and smartly dressed, entertained the representatives of Big Pharma. 

From what Ethan could see, Date was young. Bright. Approachable with an award-winning smile that was almost too friendly for his liking. Together, the doctor and scientist looked invincible and Ethan found himself for admitting that they actually complimented each other.

“What a tool.” He couldn’t help but scoff. “...Spit it out, Hirata.”

Beside him, June’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. She brought a hand up to her mouth and turned away, responding between giggles she tried to suppress. Ethan rolled his eyes.

“I apologize, it’s nothing. It’s nothing. Don’t let it bother you, you and Sakurai were always the better- pft.” 

Dr. Hirata failed to contain herself and released a snort, shaking her head as she walked away to scout for their seats in the lecture hall. Ethan’s irritant gaze followed her retreating form and his chest bubbled with annoyance as he remained clueless towards the reason behind his colleague’s laughter.

He looked over his shoulder one more time to where Haruna and Satoshi stood, close as ever, and the jealousy weaved knots in Dr. Ramsey’s stomach to the point that he settled in looking for his assigned seat instead. Ethan glanced at his watch; fifteen minutes before the official start of the conference, and from his peripheral vision he could see Haruna beginning to make her way backstage to prepare for her speech. 

Finding his spot beside Dr. Hirata, Ethan looked up to the stage, sat in the very front row and directly in front of the podium.

Fuck.

The lights finally began to dim at ten o’clock, and Dr. Sakurai, clad in white, appeared on stage. 

The woman’s presence commanded the attention of the room as she made her way to the centre in a powerful stride. The anticipant stillness of the crowd broke and Haruna’s entrance was greeted with a light smattering of applause as she enveloped the audience in warm welcome and a dazzling smile. Ethan watched her with bated breath, wondering when she had become this beautiful. 

“It warms my heart to see so many familiar faces.” She began. 

Her kind eyes scanned the audience and Dr. Sakurai’s gaze fell momentarily on Dr. Ramsey, conflicted, before getting to the punchline of the joke.

“Forgive me when I say I wasn’t expecting so many of you to still have a full head of hair the next time we met.”

–––––

The next 45 minutes passed that way, with Haruna completely and wholly engaging the crowd as she shared knowledge and humour, establishing a pleasant tone for the remainder of the conference. Ethan could sense the nearing end of her speech as Haruna began to smoothly transition from the central theme to her concluding words.

“A very important person to me once said that as doctors, all we do is delay the inevitable-” 

Ethan leaned back in his seat, arms crossed and with a valiant effort, careful not to let his emotions betray the nonchalance in his face. The reminder of that lesson he taught her so long ago revived something in the older doctor that he thought had died when Sakurai left for Japan. 

Then he remembered her obsidian hair dipped in red. Her long delicate fingers that he held in his when they first met, steadying the tremor before saving a life. He remembered her downcast eyes when he reprimanded her over a patient, and the embarrassment in her voice when she admitted to crying in the storage room.

Now here she stood, six years later. Confident. Unshaken. A poetic opposite of the young intern he once knew.

“—to healthcare professionals,” The sound of Haruna’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “one word immediately comes to mind when discussing the inevitable.” She said the words with air quotes.

“Death. Mortality. Demise. I always found it ironic how we, doctors who so value life, were the very crowd who imposed such negative connotations on the word.”

“We follow the paved path of the Inevitable because it’s the only one we know. It provides a definitive answer. But inevitably, we grow tired of this tedious destination. We inevitably seek more, strive for more and thus deviate from that paved path and become drawn to the unexplored dirt road; you find that it leads to so much more. My research team has offered me invaluable guidance on this road to the unknown, which is why I’m proud to officially announce that the Sakurai Medical Centre has discovered a cure for multiple sclerosis.”

And a stunned silence instilled itself into the audience. 

Ethan stared at her in silent disbelief. Hirata’s jaw hung open before she threw her head back in proud laughter and clapped. Suddenly, a frenzy ensued with the commotion of the crowd, the entire room suddenly engulfed in cameras and flashing lights and the vocal disbelief of the fellow doctors around them. Haruna held up a hand and the guests, still buzzing with excitement, toned down to audible murmurs. 

“I will answer any questions anyone might have about this medical feat throughout the day, but as I conclude this speech I’d like you all to do one thing–”

“Question yourself. Question the world. Challenge the things thought to be set in stone, and when all is said and done, ask yourself-”

Haruna looked meaningfully at the hundreds of people seated in front of her, a sharp tension emanating in the room as her cat-like gaze scrutinized the crowd. Her eyes finally fell on Dr. Ramsey, and the hold of her stare made it clear that this was no accident. She directed her query at her former lover and in a voice dripping with purpose demanded an answer.

“Is the inevitable really as dreadful as we might think?” 

And he could do nothing but applaud. 

–––––

The continuous ticking of the clock in Ethan’s hotel room was the only sound that intercepted a dead silence. Alone yet with his thoughts, he packed his luggage in preparation for his flight the next morning, pondering his weekend in Japan. 

They met at the evening reception. Purely coincidence. She stood alone at an accent table, her back to him with a flute of rosé, and he approached her in an honest mistake. 

“June.” Ethan sighed exasperatedly. “It wouldn’t have killed you to wait two minutes instead of making me scout you out in this crowded room for your damn blue dress-“

“Hey, I happen to like this damn blue dress.” 

Then he found himself met with pearls and a gown of charmeuse silk. She came to him in the shade of blue orchids, her gown pooling at the floor like a blossom at its prime and Dr. Ramsey remembered just how perfect she’d always been. 

They spoke. Briefly. Awkwardly. Watching their words like untested waters though the two were the furthest thing from strangers. 

“Hi.” 

Was what she said.

“...Hi.” 

Was how he responded. 

Then he couldn’t look at her. She was within arms reach, too easy to pull towards him and trap against his chest. Too easy to blurt out something he’d regret with her just close enough to hear it. Too easy to meet her eyes and remember that she was with someone else.

So he brushed past her, putting as much distance between himself and Dr. Sakurai before he lost himself. Before the crushing weight on Ethan’s chest pressed on until the words piggy-backed the next breath he released.

I still love you.

And he should have let it, because he hasn’t seen her since. 

Zipping up his luggage and setting it upright, the sudden sound of Ethan’s default ringtone reverberating through the room made him jolt. He snatched his phone off the bedside table, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, only to relax as he saw Naveen’s name flash across the screen for a FaceTime call.

“You have work.” Ethan observed, unimpressed upon recognition of Naveen’s office from the background. 

“Which starts in an hour, I’m simply early! Speaking of work, administration wants you to bring back souvenirs.”

“By administration, you mean yourself.”

“Humor me a little. Dr. Tanaka tells me they have exclusive KitKat flavours and I’m absolutely beside myself with curiosity. Pick up a pack or two, your retirement gift to me.”

Ethan sighed in surrender.

“...What flavour do you want.”

“Dr. Tanaka recommends Hokkaido melon with mascarpone cheese, but I also recall June mentioning sakura matcha latte. I’ll leave it up to you.”

“What? You can’t possibly expect me to find such arbritary— hello?”

So fate let him out onto the Kyoto streets, into a grocery store, towards the snack aisle and right in Haruna Sakurai’s line of fire. She was on her way to the cash, he was still searching for those fucking KitKats, and they lightly bumped shoulders before meeting each other’s eyes for a polite apology. 

“Ah, I’m sorry-“

“My apologies-“

And they both froze.

At first, they refused to acknowledge the familiarity in each other’s voice. She spoke in Japanese, but he recognized her assertive tone. Firm but pleasant, like running your hands across a velvet seat. She had a unique accent given her history of travel, and Ethan remembered how much he used to love hearing her talk. 

It was the English for her. They weren’t too far off from the hotel where the conference was held, so Haruna immediately deduced that the stranger was one of the guests. But she knew Dr. Ramsey’s voice. All too well. His words uttered in low timbre, deep and rich like fertile soil that only further nurtured her adoration for him. The articulate nature of his speech that would substantiate the validity of his advice. Intimidating delivery of his words that grabbed her attention in fistfuls. It wasn’t until Haruna had her own intern that she became aware of how much she had begun to sound like him, and it was then that she realized she loved hearing him talk too. 

“Dr. Ramsey.” Haruna didn’t bother to mask the surprise in her voice. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” 

The collectedness in Dr. Sakurai’s voice almost irked him. She looked nothing short of amicable, pretending like Saturday evening never happened where he fled from her after a one-word exchange. And her nonchalance, amidst Ethan’s struggle to find words, rapid heartbeat and sandpaper-dry throat, was only further confirmation that she moved on from their past. 

“We’re on the same boat, Dr. Sakurai. I wasn’t expecting to be here but you know how Naveen is.” He struggled to maintain the apathy in his voice. 

“Let me guess, KitKats?”

“Right on the nail. He’s looking for–” 

Ethan stopped himself as Haruna turned to the shelf on her right, dragging a finger across the plastic wraps before swiftly plucking several packages out from under each other and tossing them into his basket. He peered into his bin of potential expenses and looked up at Dr. Sakurai as she tossed one more his way. 

“Rook- Dr. Sakurai, Naveen is going to end up with diabetes.” 

She retracted her hand from another pack and glanced at him once, then to his near-full basket in something alike to realization. Then she laughed. Like, really laughed. Her disciplined features melted into a toothy grin, replaced with something youthful. Something real. Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose to hide his own smile beginning to form. 

“Oh, I’m sorry-” Haruna gathered herself as she breathed out a chuckle. “You know how much of a sweet tooth he has.”

She tilted her gaze up to meet Ethan’s eyes, an almost distant look brewing on her face until she caught herself and her smile faded. 

“But it wasn’t all for him.” 

Ethan raised a brow, and the female doctor’s attention flickered to the pack she last threw into his basket. He looked down, and his forehead creased with inexplicable conflict. 

“That one’s for you. Didn’t you really used to like those back then?”

Yuzu flavoured KitKats. She used to love those, and he wondered if she still did. They were saved for special occasions and only shared with special people, but those “care packages” Haruna’s doting parents sent every once in a while from Japan never lasted. The original five that shared the penthouse used to come with snack sized versions, and Dr. Ramsey had to hide his in the drawer of his desk. 

She would loiter in his office sometimes during her break, sitting across from her mentor as they passed the time talking. 

“Snacking in my office? I’ve grown too lenient with you, Rookie.”

She popped a piece into her mouth and grinned with full cheeks. 

“So you have.”

“Yeah… your influence– don’t get ahead of yourself.” He rolled his eyes good-naturedly as Haruna pressed a hand to her chest in faux flattery. He failed to suppress a smile and she returned her own, the awkwardness and the tension slowly alleviating between the two of them. 

They grew silent, but it was a comfortable silence. The two doctors shifted on their feet, waiting for someone make the first statement, and Ethan racked his brain for words to say. What could he say?

“I meant to congratulate you,” He settled.

“These past five years have been good to you, Haruna. You’ve accomplished something great.”

Her smile widened at her ex-mentors praise.

“Thank you, I had an amazing team behind me.”

And as if on cue, the shrill marimba ringtone sounded in the air and made them both jump. Dr. Sakurai’s recognized it as hers and patted around her sweatpants, fishing her phone out of her pocket. Looking at Dr. Ramsey apologetically, she accepted the call and pressed her phone to her ear. 

“Toshi?”

And the bitter reality settled back in. She turned her back to him, mumbling in rapid Japanese and Ethan breathed in deeply. Starting towards the cash register, he snuck past Haruna quietly, squeezing her shoulder in goodbye. A subtle alarm weaved itself into her features, and her gaze followed his back, unable to leave the call. Ethan rushed through the payment and took long strides out of the grocery store, pulling on the collar of his sweater as his throat began to constrict. 

Get back to your damn hotel and finish packing your things. You’re going to get on that plane tomorrow morning, start work the day after and start forgetting about Haruna Sakurai. 

He exhaled in a long breath. He could do this. 

“Dr. Ramsey…?”

He could do this. 

“Didn’t you really used to like those back then?”

He could do this. 

“Is the inevitable really as dreadful as we might think?” 

He couldn’t fucking do this.

Ethan slowed to a stop, and he cursed at himself. For developing feelings towards the one person he shouldn’t have fallen for. For being the root of the cause in this mess they entangled themselves in. For loving this woman so damn much that his own medical expertise couldn’t suffice in explaining the tight feeling in his chest whenever he missed her. Whenever he saw her.

Dr. Ramsey looked up to the sky, met with a streetlight hovering above his head and despite himself, he laughed. 

He just couldn’t forget about Haruna Sakurai. 

“Christ, I’m too old for this.”

And back towards the direction he came from, he began to run.