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emeraldwaves · 5 years

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Title: What We Lack Part 12 Pairing: Kacchako, Deku/Melissa, Todomomo Rating: T Word Count: 4,429 Read on Ao3 Summary:

Quirkless.

They’re the last people anyone expects to have a child without a quirk.

Neither of them can fully wrap their heads around it, but Ochako knows Katsuki is struggling far more than her.

Thank you to @its-love-u-asshole for beta-ing

Full fic under the cut

Adjusting his tie in the mirror, Yuuta glanced over how the U.A. suit fit him. It was clean and fresh, ironed out by his mother. She told him he should keep it looking nice if possible, but he wasn’t sure if he would actually remember to do that. With how much work and training they would have to do, ironing out his suit was a low priority, but for now, he was pleased with how it looked.

He’d seen pictures of his parents in their uniforms plenty of times, but for some reason he felt dorky wearing his. He definitely didn’t look as classy as his mother or father.

First day of school, and he was excited to see who his teacher would be. He also wondered what class would be like; would they be active, or spend most of their time in the classroom? He glanced down at his phone, three messages blinking across the screen.

[Text from: Mom]: Good luck today, Yuuta!

[Text from: Dad]: You're going to do amazing. We're so proud.

He couldn't help but smile at the two texts from his parents. He sent loving texts back, and he hoped Arata did the same. He didn't understand why Arata had been so intense lately, but he couldn't keep trying to figure it out, not when he had school to worry about.

There was a knock on the door and Yuuta jumped. "J-Just a second!" He grabbed his bag and tucked his phone into his pocket, immediately running to go open it.

Shouhei was leaning against the wall, tapping at his phone. "You ready?" he smirked, looking at Yuuta. He couldn't help but blush, partially because he knew Shouhei was looking at him, but also because Shouhei himself looked far better in the suit than Yuuta did!

"Mhm!" he nodded, smiling at his boyfriend. He glanced down at Shouhei's hands; were they supposed to hold hands when they walked to class together? Were they even really officially together? Maybe he should ask?

"Yuu..." Shouhei said, nudging his side. "What are you freaking out about?"

"F-Freaking out!?" Yuuta said, blinking. "I-I'm not!"

"You are! Dumbass, I know what you do when you freak out; you get all nervous and jumpy!" Shouhei teased.

He sighed. "It's just... first day of school jitters!"

"Okay, okay," Shouhei snorted, buying the excuse. "You have nothing to be worried about. You're strong as hell, and we're both in the same class, so who cares! It's gonna be great."

"Who do you think our teacher is going to be?" he asked, the two of them making their way down the stairs and out of the door.

"I heard my Dad grumbling about it," Shouhei said, "so I wonder if it's going to be someone we know."

"Grumbling?" Yuuta asked, opening the door to follow Shouhei outside. "In a bad way?"

"I mean my Dad is always grumbling in a bad way," Shouhei snorted.

The two of them continued to make guesses as they walked to school. Yuuta prayed everything would go alright for the first day. Shouhei was right; they, at the very least, had each other, so even if everyone else was weird, it wouldn't be a big deal.

"A-Are you really not nervous, Shou?" Yuuta asked, staring at the front entrance to the large school.

"Nope! Why would I be?" Shouhei chuckled. "It's just school, Yuu. It's gonna be like middle school."

"I-I dunno," he shrugged. "A lot of people worked hard to get into this school," he said, scuffing his feet against the ground.

"Yeah? And so did you?"

"But we also have... our names behind us. I mean our dads are in the top 3 all the time, and our moms easily make the top 10... Won't people think we got in because of them?"

Shouhei frowned, leaning towards Yuuta. "To hell with 'em!" he said, waving his hand back and forth. "Who the hell cares what they think? The second we start training they're going to realize how serious we are and it has nothing to do with our names! Just because you're Todoroki Yuuta... that means nothing. You're you and you're strong."

Blushing, Yuuta took Shouhei's hand. "Thanks Shou. I wish I was a confident as you."

"Growing up around stubborn parents, you kinda just become confident," he chuckled, squeezing his hand.

"Fair," Yuuta said. He could imagine being around Katsuki all the time wasn't easy. The man was very intense, and apparently he'd mellowed out with his older age? Yuuta found it a little hard to believe.

"You good?" Shouhei asked.

"Yeah," Yuuta nodded, letting his fingers slip away from Shouhei's. If he could've walked into school clinging to him, he probably would have. Not the most adult thing to say, but Yuuta was nervous. He would be fine after a day or two, he was sure.

He walked into the classroom, taking his seat near the back, Shouhei was more near the middle, closer to the window. Yuuta glanced in front of him, forgetting he and Arata were in different classes this time. Normally his twin brother would be seated right in front of him but... not this time.

"Good morning, class!" A familiar cheery voice called out as Kirishima Mina stepped into the room.

Yuuta's eyes widened. The last thing he expected was Mina to be his teacher! No wonder Katsuki had been grumbling about it, Eijirou had probably been talking about it to him non-stop.

"I'm so excited to be here!" Mina said, smiling at the students. "My first class ever! I decided to take a small break from hero work," she began, "to work with all of you! I'm excited to see some familiar faces, and lots of new ones." She erupted into giggles, but then quickly placed her hands down on the table.

"I had the best time here at U.A, and I want to make it the best for you too!" she said. "That being said, I won't hesitate to kick your asses into shape!"

Honestly, knowing Mina, Yuuta believed that.

"There are lots of fun things on the horizon, the training camp, the sports fest!" she said, listing off a few. "But, don't think it'll all be fun and games! " she giggled.

Shouhei glanced behind himself, looking at Yuuta with a smirk. It was shocking, but Yuuta actually felt relieved, knowing Mina was his teacher, it made him look forward to school just a little more..

"So, is it nice being alone in the house?" Kazu asked, pulling out his lunch, the two of them sitting on the roof.

Sayuri puffed out her lips. "I dunno if I would call it 'alone'." She let out a long huff, unfolding the small pouch she put her lunch in. "My parents are still there."

"I meant the only kid," Kazu muttered.

"Yeah, yeah. I just was giving you shit," she teased, reaching forward to poke Kazu's cheek with her chopstick.

"Ugh," he grunted and shook his head. "You know, you can really be the worst sometimes."

"I know," she giggled, shoving some rice into her mouth. "And... I dunno. I mean it's weird not having Shou around, but it's kinda nice, but still weird."

"So you really you have no idea how you feel." Wasn't that the truth? Kazu was so good at seeing right through her confusion and lack of understanding of her own damn emotions.

Truthfully she was jealous Shouhei was away. She did miss him, but mostly she was jealous he was actually getting to train to be a hero. If she had a quirk, she knew she would be the best fucking hero there was. Just like her parents and-

"Sayuri?"

"Huh?" she said, blinking when Kazu called out her name.

"You were spacing out pretty hard," Kazu chuckled.

"Ugh..." She snorted and ran her hand through her blonde hair. "I dunno, Kazu. It's just... it's weird. Like... I miss him, but also I'm just kinda... whatever about the whole thing."

Or at least she was trying to be. She was so tired of constantly going back and forth on her thoughts regarding her quirklessness. Some days she would wake up and feel like she could conquer the world, regardless of her status, and other days it was harder, like she didn't know who she could be.

Useless, and worthless to everyone, even her parents.

It was on those days she seemed to notice the way her father occasionally looked at her.

"Whatever?" Kazu asked, tilting his head. "That sounds like you're deflecting."

Sayuri groaned. "Kazu... can you act like a teenager for like, one second?" she said. "Why are you suddenly my goddamn therapist!?"

"S-Sorry!" he stammered, waving his hand quickly. "I-I just wanted to... make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled. "I'm fine. It's gonna be another fun school year or whatever. At least at home I can actually focus, instead of listening to Shouhei and my Dad freaking out while they train in the backyard."

"Right-"

The door slammed, and three girls stormed out onto the roof. One of them was a tall blonde with cat-like eyes. The other two were shorter, one with a large nose, the other with long straw-like hair. Sayuri was horrible with names but she knew they were all bitches. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the loser squad. The nerd and the quirkless wonder! Get off of our roof." Sayuri was almost certain her name was Hayami, but she didn't care to try and remember.

"Your roof? Oh boy, mean girls, like I've never experienced this before," Sayuri said, rolling her eyes. She pushed herself up, her skirt flapping around her legs in the breeze.

Kazu blushed, "S-Sayu..."

"It's fine, Kazu," she muttered.

"You don't have your brother or the Todoroki twins to hide behind anymore," Hayami snapped. "You two know this our spot, if you think a new year at school would change anything... I'm so sick of your shitty attitude."

"Have you taken a look in the mirror lately?" Sayuri scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. "Like what you're doing right now isn't shitty..."

"Sayuri we should just go-"

"Kazu!" she hissed.

"Maybe you should consider listening to your friend," Hayami giggled. "I would hate for you to get in trouble."

"You know if you do this shit," Sayuri began, "you're going to get in trouble too."

"Everyone knows whose daughter you are, Bakugou," she snapped. "Everyone knows what your father is like. If I tell them you hurt me because you were jealous of my quirk, who do you think they're going to believe-"

Clenching her fist, Sayuri pulled her hand back and connected with the catgirl's face. Hayami fell backwards into the girl with a large nose, whimpers slipping from her lip, blood trickling down her jaw. "You stupid bitch!" she screamed. "You actually punched me."

"Yeah well, you were being a fuckin' bitch first so... don't dish it out if you can't take it."

Her nails elongated into claws, and she growled, lunging forward. Sayuri leaned back, attempting to dodge the swipe but the girl nicked her chin, a long scratch bleeding down her jawline.

"Sayuri!" Kazu yelled. "Let's just leave... I don't want you to get in trouble-"

"Shut up!" she said. "I'm not going to let these bitches push us around this year!" Yelling, she dashed towards the girl, dodging another swipe of her long claws. "You know," she panted, stumbling back. "You're not supposed to use your quirk at school."

"That must be so difficult for you," the girl purred. "Having to hold yours back... Oh wait!"

"Fuckin' shut your damn mouth!" she said. She tried to punch her again, but completely missed. "Don't you get tired of this shit? NGH!" She gasped when the girl kicked her to the ground, her nails digging into her back. Blood began to seep into her uniform, and she groaned, knowing this wasn't going to go over well with her parents.

Kazu gasped, standing up to run to her. "S-Sayuri!" he said. "Why can't you just leave us alone? We're just trying to enjoy lunch-"

"Because you two nerds need to learn your place. Just because your parents are amazing, doesn't mean you are!"

Helping Sayuri stand, she saw Kazu frown, though she winced at the pain on her back, glancing away from him.

"We have never treated anyone differently because of who our parents are," he snapped. "You're the only one treating people horribly!"

"Well someone has to put you in your place," she said, gently touching over her nails as she retracted them.

Sayuri glared at the group of girls, walking with Kazu back towards the building.

It sure was going to be one hell of a year.

Arata stared out the window as he took the train to his grandfather's house. He glanced at his watch, knowing he wouldn't have as much time as he wanted. Stupid curfew. He wished he could just stay at his grandfather's house and keep training.

Already school was frustrating. He didn't care for the way his teacher spoke, as if things were going to be fun. He wanted to work hard and actually train to be better. If things were so 'fun', he would never get to better himself.

He brushed his fingers over the screen.

[Text from: Mom]: Good luck on your first day, Arata!

[Text from: Dad]: We're so proud of you. We love you.

[Text Mom & Dad]: Thanks.

It was such a short concise answer; he could practically see the disappointment on his mother's face.

He stepped off the train and made his way to Enji's house, stopping outside. After coming here for almost a week, he did feel like he was getting better. Contrary to everything his father had told him, his grandfather wasn't horrible. Admittedly, he didn't know why his father hated Enji so much. He'd never gone into much detail, it wasn't something they liked to talk about.

"Come in, Arata," Enji said, leading him inside to the training room. "You had your first day of school today?" he asked.

"Yeah..." he muttered, looking down at the ground. He gripped his bag in determination. "I want to be ready for the sports festival!" he said.

"Ah... yes... of course," Enji said. "Then you'll have to push yourself even harder. We'll need to train you to be better with colder temperatures. Your quirk sucks away your body heat; you need to be more prepared for that. You always stop when it gets too low. You also need to learn to create your crystals faster. It's too bad you inherited the creation style quirk like your mother."

The way Enji spoke of his mother made him wince. Momo was incredibly strong; for as long as Arata had watched her, she had incredible control over her quirk and utilized it quite well. He wasn't about to argue with the man.

"R-Right," he nodded, his heart thumping in his chest. He knew Yuuta was stronger, even if his brother didn't care to admit it. Despite his natural strength, Yuuta did have poor control over his flames.

"Good," he said. "Warm-up."

Enji was always quite blunt when it came to training, something Arata wasn't used to. When he worked on his quirk with his parents, they were always gentle, never pushing him. But he wanted to be better and this... this was the only way.

He began his warm-up stretches and created a few smaller crystals. They weren't very heated, only slightly warmed in order to save the heat he needed for later.

"We also need to work on you making larger crystals," he said.

Arata bit his lip. He knew he was terrible at that. He could sometimes make them all in a row but they were always small. It would've been easier if he could make them in a row, or flow more like lava... but he had no idea if that was even possible.

Enji's flamed burned so bright, just like his father's. Arata wished he had something like that... or that his quirk was easier to figure out, like Yuuta's. The idea of controlling his body temperature through flames seemed far easier.

"Try and make a larger crystal this first time, now that you've warmed yourself up," Enji stated, folding his arms over his chest.

"Okay," Arata nodded.

Generally he made them from his palm. Anytime he tried elsewhere they looked odd, and occasionally hurt. He held his palm out, allowing for a larger crystal to pop out, though it wasn't much bigger.

"Mmmm. You always use your palm. Use your chest," Enji said.

Arata swallowed. "I-I don't know if I can," he said. "It usually hurts when I try and do it from there."

"Try."

"Okay..." Arata said, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath of air as he allowed the heat to pool forward in his chest, sweat slowly rolling down his brow. His lungs felt tight, pain shooting through his spine as he pushed a large crystal out, panting as he did it. It fell to the floor, steaming and larger than most of the things he'd made before.

Almost immediately, he fell to his knees. "Dammit..." he grunted.

"Good. Better," Enji said. "If you're in pain, push through it. This is how you get stronger."

Shivering, cold began to settle into his body. Arata pursed his lips, panting as he tried to keep his temperature stable. He pulled a lot of heat for the crystal in front of him, hadn't Enji noticed that? "Could you use your flame to warm the room?" Arata asked.

"No," Enji said flatly. "I won't be around to assist you at school or in the field. Plus, you should be able to make things like this with ease," he continued. "This is what you are training for. If you could create these faster, you could trap villains in your crystalized structure. You need to get better at creating various shapes as well."

Swallowing, Arata knew Enji was right. He just wish he had a better idea as to how to do that.

Why was it such a struggle to get his body to listen to him? There was so much to do, and the more he trained the farther away it all felt. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?

"Oh, sweetheart. The first day?" Ochako said, standing in the hallway of the school. Sayuri had her gym t-shirt on, after the nurse had wrapped practically her entire body in bandages from the scratch on her back.

"Whatever, Mom, can we please just leave?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest. "I need to get out of here."

"It-It wasn't Sayuri's fault, Auntie!" Kazu stammered, looking between the two girls.

"I'm sure," Ochako sighed. "Are you going to be okay, Kazu? I'm going to take Sayuri home. If you would be so kind as to get all her assignments..."

"Mhm... Yeah..." he nodded, glancing down. "See you tomorrow, Sayu..."

"Yeah, bye," she said, trying her best not to completely snap at the other boy.

Holding her ripped uniform in her hand, Sayuri followed her mother out of the school in silence. She really had nothing to say to her, and quite frankly she knew her parents weren't going to be happy. Knowing them, they'd suggest switching schools again.

She climbed into the car, shutting the door and staring out the window, too embarrassed to look at her mother.

"Sayu... you know you can talk to me about these things."

"Yup," she said.

"Is this about your brother leaving-"

"No, Mom. Not everything has to do with Shouhei," she snapped.

"I wasn't implying that it did," Ochako said softly.

Sayuri almost wished it was her father, cause at least he wouldn't speak to her like she was some pathetic kicked puppy. "I'm fine, Mom."

"You were scratched by a girl at school because you punched her for a reason still unclear to me. You're not fine," Ochako said, far more stern.

"What's there to say!" Sayuri shrugged. "She was trying to kick me and Kazu off the roof. She said we needed to be put in our places because of who our parents are. So... I put her in hers."

"Well she obviously got a good hit on you too. For your own safety... you can't be doing things like this-"

"What, because I'm quirkless?!" she yelled. "Because I'm not... as strong as you and Dad and Shouhei. I tried to punch her and I missed. It was just fuckin' sloppy!"

"Sayuri, you know this has nothing to do with you being quirkless."

"Doesn't it always kinda have to do with that, Mom?" she snapped. "If I wasn't quirkless, those girls would leave me alone. If I wasn't quirkless, I could actually do something about it!"

"It's not all about that and you know it!" Ochako sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "I don't... want you getting into fights at school, but if it's a matter of protecting yourself then we can spar together more. How about that?"

"Gee thanks," Sayuri said, folding her arms over her chest. "I'd love a pity spar."

Ochako put the car in park, pulling into their driveway. "You're just like your father, so damn stubborn! I think it would be good for you to learn better techniques anyway," Ochako said. "It is not a 'pity spar'. I'm your mother, and I want to teach my daughter to protect herself."

"Whatever, Mom," Sayuri said, getting out of the car. She yanked her key out of her backpack, shoving it inside the door to their house as she stormed towards her room.

She was probably being irrational. Wasn't she always? It was embarrassing to talk about this kind of stuff with her mother. Her parents were both strong beyond measure, and while learning from her mother would be amazing... it made her feel even more pathetic.

She slammed her door shut and screamed, tossing her bag against her bed. She thought about her break, and how productive she felt working with Melissa and Kazu. Why couldn't school be like that too? Why couldn’t these fucking extra bitches just leave her alone?!

Crawling into bed, she tried to forget the whole day. She shut her eyes, hoping to doze off, but instead she stared at the wall, wondering how different life would be if she went to a different school. People were assholes everywhere. She couldn't imagine it would make much of a difference. There'd be another bitchy cat girl at a new school too.

It didn't take long for there to be a knock at the door, someone interrupting her peace and quiet. "Go away!"

"Not gonna happen, baby girl."

She froze. Her father.

She certainly hadn't been expecting to hear him. When had he even come home?

He turned the knob, opening the door as he slammed it shut behind him. "What the hell is going on?"

She yanked her blanket over her head, hiding even more. "Nothing," she snapped.

"Then why the hell were you bleeding at school? Your mother called me practically sobbing into the goddamn phone," Bakugou hissed. She felt his weight on her bed, sinking down.

"I don't wanna talk about it!" she yelled. "I think you of all people should understand that! You suck at talking, Dad!"

She heard him sigh. "Look baby girl, you can't be fucking fighting at school-"

"Says you!" she snapped, finally sitting up to glare at him.

"Oi!" he yelled. "I got into shitty fights at school and it sucked. I'm not telling you to let this girl stomp all over you. But your mother wants to help you and I want you to fucking be grateful!"

"Wow!" she yelled back. "Well, I'm sorry for not wanting your pity party!" she yelled. "I get that me being quirkless is pathetic and all to you-"

"Stop," he said flatly, looking down. "Enough of that bullshit."

"See!" she yelled. "You can't even look at me! And when you do I-I know that's what you're thinking!"

"That's never what I'm thinking, Sayuri!" he yelled back. He turned his head towards her, his red eyes glaring.

"Oh yeah? Then what are you thinking, enlighten me, Dad!"

She saw the way his fingers curled around the edge of the bed and his shoulders trembled slightly. Was he really so bothered by this?

He let out a frustrated breath. "I keep fuckin' thinking that I hate this! I hate it so fucking much. I hate seeing you come home with a fucking injury because some bitch at school felt like they had to make fun of you to feel better about themselves. It takes all of my fucking being to not storm over to that girl's house and blow it up! I'm the number one fucking hero and I can't even protect my own damn daughter!"

Sayuri blinked, unsure if she should breathe... unsure if he was actually done speaking. It was rare he spoke so candidly. "Dad..." she said.

"And... I..." he stopped himself. Instead of saying anything else, he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "I just want to fuckin' keep you safe, baby girl and the older you get... the more I can't."

She wasn't expecting such an outburst, though she supposed it was her father. She swallowed and stared at him. "Dad... I... I'm sorry-"

"Those girls," he continued, cutting her off. "They should say sorry. For the things they do, and the things they say. Fuckin' shits!" he growled. "You don't ever have to apologize. You're strong and perfect just the way you are!"

"I-I know I just..." she bit her lip, trying not to cry. All of this would've been so much easier if she just had a stupid quirk. Even if it was a small one... then maybe she wouldn't cause her family so much pain.

She reached forward and gently wrapped her hand around Bakugou's, clinging to his fingers. "I'll train with Mom. I'll... talk to her at dinner."

"Good," he muttered. "Your mother is kick ass, she'll teach you how to throw a real good punch."

"Yeah... yeah... I know," she said. She leaned forward to rest her forehead against his shoulder, letting a few tears roll down from her eyes. Why couldn’t she be normal so they could all stop worrying about her?

#kacchako #todomomo #bakugou katsuki #uraraka ochako #oc kids #bnha #boku no hero academia #future au

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serenefreakgeekao3 · 6 years

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Request: #19 for the Drarry drabble prompts, please! Draco speaking to Harry if possible, but either way is fine, thanks :) :) -- ( @restlessandordinary )

Prompt: “I want to take care of you”

Rated: T

Warnings: Cursing, Light angst, Mentions of nightmares, (my constant use of italics for emphasis)

Words: 4.3k

Author’s Note: Hey guys! I just wanna start off by saying yes I have a lot of other requests, and I’m getting to them! I promise! But my stupid brain said, “Hey let’s write something a few hundred words, maybe 1k words, just to have something to post to the blog so I stay active” before writing a 4k behemoth of a story. Hope you guys like it?

Draco Malfoy was not one easily surprised. Hosting a Dark Lord in your home for a year, being raised how he was to imitate polite social structures, to be ready for absolutely anything- most things he had been through helped Draco learn to expect the unexpected. So when something happened, not entirely unexpected- some would even say it was expected- Draco was confused as to his clear surprise on the matter. To be thoroughly clear, Draco was not surprised to be forced into attending his eighth year of Hogwarts by the Ministry. He was not surprised to be separated from the regular school into a 'fifth house,' if you will, made entirely of the eighth year students. He was still unsurprised when McGonagall practically forced him to room with his once-rival Harry Potter. Draco Malfoy was surprised that he had somehow developed feelings for the one and only Harry Potter. Some would say it was a long time coming, with emotions always rolling high between the two of them. Some would say it was to be expected when living in such close quarters to a guy you had expected to be completely different but was pleasantly surprised to find out he wasn't. Some would even say, "Draco, stop staring at him right now, you literally look like a creepy stalker." Draco Malfoy would ignore these said people. Draco was seated in the library, observing Harry with one of his trio members, Hermione, while they studied, laughing occasionally. He was happy seeing him with such a carefree expression, so different from his usual one nowadays where it so often looks like a combination of grief and self-loathing. He studied the way Harry's eyes lit up every time he laughed, or how he was only pretending to study, either never turning his page or turning them too often to be believable. Draco may have been staring for a tad too long. When Ron came to collect his girlfriend, Harry waved the two goodbye and glanced down toward his books as if he actually planned to study now that he was alone. This lasted about thirty seconds before he shook his head and started glancing around the library for something more interesting to focus on. Draco quickly dropped his head, propping his book slightly as if he wasn't spending his entire day staring at the golden boy. Though, he jumped once a book was dropped onto his table, glancing up to notice the very same boy standing in front of him. Draco just stared, his mouth parted slightly, refusing to believe that he was surprised yet again by this gorgeous boy. "Hey. Uhm, Hermione just left," Harry began sheepishly, sticking a thumb out and pointing behind himself, shrugging slightly, "I figured I could study with you? We're not- not enemies anymore, right? Like, we're friends? This is okay?" A slight blush rose on his cheeks and the boy looked downward, seeming smaller than he actually was. Draco quickly realized how self-conscious the boy was being, and sat up straight, reaching a hand out to pat on Harry's arm. "Yeah. Come, sit. Maybe you'll actually read something this time instead of just pretending to." He hadn't meant for the words to come out, to reveal the extent of his Potter-watching, but Draco rolled with it as if he didn't just reveal something horrifying. He watched Harry blush more, lowering his head as if attempting to hide a small smile that spread on his face, pulling on the seat across from Draco and slipping into it. "Yeah. That'd probably be a good idea if I plan to pass any of my classes." Harry replied sheepishly, and Draco couldn't be more glad the Gryffindor boy wasn't put in Slytherin at that moment or he would have held what he said over him constantly. Either that, or he just didn't realize what it meant that Draco had said that. Either way, Draco wasn't going to correct it.

Harry and Draco began studying then, Draco leaning over every once in awhile to help Harry, pushing him into studying after one uttered, "It's been five minutes and you're still on the same paragraph, Potter?" It seemed to spark something in Harry, to push and do as much as possible before Draco leaned over to check his progress again, correcting some things or sometimes just reading over his notes. Draco quickly realized Harry hadn't ever had a study partner that challenged him to work, to do so much in a certain amount of time. Hermione likely just sat near him and made sure he was working without actually giving him the incentive to work. "Draco," Harry cut off his inner monologue, and Draco glanced up, eyes slightly wide. "Uh- I just wanted to say thank you. I wasn't even thinking of how much work I was doing. I just finished this entire assignment and-" Harry paused to chuckle, running his hand through his hair, "That was the easiest Transfiguration essay I've ever written." Draco smirked, letting his eyes fall away from that gorgeous smile directed at him lest he fall apart right in front of the man. "You just need the right study partner, study techniques." Draco glanced up again, smirk growing as he adds, "In your own personal challenge to beat me, you were too distracted to notice how terribly boring the words you were writing were.” He watched as Harry flushed adorably once more, and Draco smirked slightly to himself, taking that as his own victory.

“You knew I was doing that then?” Harry mumbled toward his essay, and Draco was unsure whether or not Harry actually meant for him to hear it.

“It was easy to notice, you had the same spark in your eye that you usually did whenever we were about to duel in the schoolyard.” Draco winked toward Harry as he sat up straighter, beginning to pack his belongings. “Anyway, I’d say this was a successful day. We should head back to our room. Perhaps I’ll see you here tomorrow, after dinner? We could study some more.” He watched as Harry practically lit up, standing and shoving his own books and papers into his bag in no semblance of an order. Draco forced the smile that was threatening to emerge down, refusing to show his amusement toward the reaction.

---

Harry looked the worst he’s ever been. And that’s saying something considering he had previously died before. He was curled up in bed wearing only an overly large Harpies T-shirt and grey pants, his lightweight sheet curled and tangled around his feet, tissues surrounding him like a halo. His nose was bright red, eyes bloodshot, and was rubbing his face against his pillow as if it could end his suffering.

“Please,” Harry begged for the thousandth time this morning.

“Potter, I’m sorry. Madame Pomfrey said that you’ll have to pass this one through. It’s healthy to work through being sick once a year so that your immunity doesn’t turn to shit.” Draco reiterated once more, carrying over their trashcan and placing it next to his bed. Harry just groaned, shaking his head and glaring at Draco.

“Fine!” He spat angrily, and Draco took a deep breath, shaking his head. “At least bring me Herm- no, Ron! Bring me Ron, please please please!” Harry begged, sitting up on his elbow to look at Draco with puppy eyes. Draco was impressed by how much energy he had left still to beg.

“If I bring Ron in here you’ll guilt him into bringing you the flu-over potion. No.” Draco insisted, matter-of-factly, and Harry just fell backwards onto his bed with a groan, closing his eyes and rubbing his hands down his face. Draco let his guard fall slightly now that Harry wasn’t looking. It hurt him to see Harry in so much pain, to see him beg and plead for something that could help him feel better yet Draco denies it to him. He felt like such an evil person again.

“I need to get to class, Potter. I’ll bring you your work for the first half of the day around lunch, alright?” Draco reassured him, patting his leg before turning around and walking toward the door. Just as he opened it, he heard his name being called softly, and Draco turned slowly to glance toward Harry, who was sitting up slightly and looking a tad guilty toward him.

“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t your fault. You’ve helped me a ton already, with the soup and tissues and everything. So, thanks.” Harry rubbed the back of his head, and looked the sight of the poor, sickly little boy that Draco just wanted to take care of.

“Of course, Harry,” Draco replied quietly, walking out the door quickly and closing it behind himself. Walking down the stairs to the common room, Draco grumbled and shook his head toward a waiting Hermione. “He’ll be okay. Just feels horrible.” He ran a hand through his hair and watched her track the movement with her eyes. “I don’t know how the muggles go through it every single time.”

“Well, they have medicine, of course.” She replies easily as they begin walking, exiting the common room on their way to their first shared class. Draco furrows his brow, tilting his head.

“What? They can’t have the flu-over potion. That’d go against every Statute.” Draco replied, glancing toward her with an overly confused expression. She just chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“Of course not. They have muggle medicine. It definitely doesn’t work as quickly or as well as the flu-over, but it helps cover symptoms so that they’re not in constant pain while administering extra doses of antibiotics into their systems to help fight the sickness.” Hermione said quickly, turning a corner and glancing toward Draco’s focused face. “You know, Harry could probably use some of it.”

“But- Madam Pomfrey says he’s not allowed to have medicine lest his immunity become utter shite?”

“He’s not allowed to have magical medicines, the one that ends the flu completely and suddenly and gives his body no chance of a fight. Muggle medicines just help the body fight it.” She says quietly, glancing over and smirking before winking toward him and taking her seat in class.

Draco sat, thinking this over. Hermione was suggesting Harry receive some muggle medicine to help, but if she knew all of this already why hadn’t she done so in the first place? Why was she telling him? He glanced back toward her with a worried yet still confused look and she just sighed, rolling her eyes and withdrawing a piece of paper from her bag, shoving it toward him.

“Go order some medicine. I’ll grab yours and Harry’s work from this class. Hurry, before the teacher sees you!” She whispers quickly, practically shoving him out of his seat. He takes the note, rushing out of class, glancing down to notice an address and a list of medicine that would be best to order. Draco rolled his eyes but smiled softly as he began toward the owlery quickly.

Picking up his “express” shipped box from a large owl in the Great Hall, Draco immediately turned and began toward the kitchen to collect some hot soup for Harry that the elves hadn’t put on the actual tables for the school. Draco walked, if a bit fast, but kept his composure as he carried a medium sized box in his arms, glaring at anyone who happened to give him a side eye for his predicament. He finally reached the portrait of the fruit, glancing both ways before tickling the pear and slipping into the kitchen. Some elves noticed, but most were tending to their own work as Draco set the box down gently on a nearby table and asked, kindly, for a bowl of soup for someone who was sick.

As Draco waited he opened the box, glancing in to see several different rectangle boxes with the medicine stored inside them, reaching in to grab a few and read the ingredients, directions, and everything else the boxes mentioned. He sighed, dropping the two he held into the box as an elf appeared sometime later with a rather confused expression, levitating a platter of hot soup in a stasis charm and Draco’s own lunch tucked together, placing it on the table so that Draco is able to levitate it himself.

“Thank you very much,” Draco remembered to say, smiling down at the elf who was holding her ears against herself, looking very much awed at the sentiment. He picked up his box, glancing at the tray following him, and made his way through the castle toward the eighth year common room. He stepped inside, ducking slightly while stepping through the portrait since he happened to be taller than most around here and had seemed to grow even more than he had been when he attended previously, and glanced around the common room. He wasn’t surprised to spot Hermione sitting on the couch with a textbook on her lap, and he made his way over to her, sitting and placing the box on the couch between them.

“I was reading over a lot of these medicines, and I just wanted your opinion on which ones I should give to him? It seems I can’t give him doses of each one, but I don’t know which to pick?” He opened the box, revealing the twenty-three boxes and bottles of medicines, and watched as she leaned over to glance inside the box before her eyebrows shot up to her hairline, sucking in a breath.

“Okay, first of all, let’s not kill Harry with an overdose of cold medicines.” She said quietly, reaching in to shift through the medicines. “I’ll say- this one and a bit of this one, but that’s it.” She glanced up, her eyebrows still raised, as she takes in the sight of Draco. His hair might be a bit mussed from constantly running his hand through it in worry, with a tray floating behind him and a box full of medicines, and she sighed and settled down as if she was finally going to say something that she had been holding back for a long time.

“What is it,” Draco asked quietly, leaning forward and furrowing his own eyebrows. He watched her hesitate before she replied.

“You should tell him, you know.” She had whispered it so quietly that he had barely heard it, but his heart immediately dropped to his stomach and he had to remind himself to breathe.

“Tell who, what?” Draco asked slowly, keeping his eyes trained on Hermione as she fidgets slowly, her eyes downcast onto the brown carpet.

“Tell Harry. That you like him.” Again, it was said so quietly, but it felt like a punch to his gut. He immediately stood, reaching for his box, intending to just walk away and leave this conversation behind. Hermione reached out quickly, snagging his wrist, and he glanced back to her to see her pleading eyes. “Please, I won’t say anything to him, it’s not mine to tell. Don’t worry about that. If you don’t want to tell him it’s fine, it’s just-” She hesitated, biting her lip as she withdrew her hand, “I think it’d be better for everyone if you did tell him?” Draco shook his head, standing and situating the box in his hands.

“How could it be better for everyone? It would make things awkward, it would make Harry want to be around me less. I understand that hiding feelings aren’t exactly Gryffindor traits, but just because we’re all living together and sharing a common room does not mean that I am a Gryffindor by any means.” Draco began to walk away, ignoring the softly called, ‘That’s not what I meant!’ and walking upstairs toward his room in a bit of a huff.

Entering the room, he glanced toward Harry’s bed, spying him sleeping finally. He quietly set the box of medicine by his bed, levitating the tray to sit on a nearby table before studying Harry. Draco quickly waved his wand, nonverbally vanishing the tissues that had stockpiled since he left, and began a slow process of untangling the bed sheets from Harry’s legs before lifting it and pulling it up toward his chest. Draco studied the red-nosed face of sleeping Harry, and glanced away before standing again.

“Dra-co?” Harry murmured, his voice scratchy as he slowly opened his eyes, turning his head as if it hurt to wake up. Draco immediately Accioed over a glass, tapping his wand against the cup and filling it with water before helping Harry sit up, holding out the glass for him. Harry took a few big swigs, though stared at Draco over the top of the rim the whole time. Handing the glass back over, Draco began walking to place it on the nearby table with the food as Harry spoke up again. “Did you grab the homework? I don’t see it?”

Draco hesitated, blinking a few times. He had meant to ask Hermione for the homework as well as the advice on the medicine but he had gotten too distracted to ask. “Oh, no. Hermione has that, actually. I can go grab it in a second so you have something to work on when I’m gone.” He said it so matter-of-factly that he hoped Harry wouldn’t notice how he had forgotten the one thing he promised to bring. “But while I’m here,” He walked over to the box on the floor, withdrawing the two rectangular boxes that Hermione had picked out and brought them over toward Harry, whom he noticed now was wearing his glasses once again, “I have these medicines that will hopefully help you. It was Hermione’s idea, considering you’re not allowed any magical medicines, but muggle medicines should be okay. It won’t completely get rid of the problem immediately, but it’ll help you not feel like you’re dying.” He watched Harry’s face, a mixture of confusion and amazement, settle on Draco before looking back down to the boxes and grabbing them.

“You didn’t have to do this…” Harry trailed off, furrowing his brow and looking back up to Draco once more. Draco forced himself not to squirm, instead turning and levitating the bowl of soup over.

“I didn’t. Like I had said, it was Hermione’s idea.”

---

Draco shot awake, sitting up quickly in bed and breathing heavily. He didn’t know what exactly it was that woke him up in the dead of night- that was until he glanced over and noticed that a few pieces of glass had shattered from accidental magic on Harry’s side of the room. Draco slowly slid from his bed, placing his bare feet on the floor and wincing at the feel of the cold stone. “Harry?” He called quietly, though received no response. He waited a bit longer before standing and beginning a slow walk to his side of the room.

Vanishing glass pieces as he got near, he looked down to study Harry’s face, which was set in a grimace. Nightmares, it seems, again. Draco knelt beside Harry’s bed, reaching a hand out slowly to place his hand against Harry’s burning hot face, furrowing his brow in worry. After living with him most of the year, graduation coming soon, he was still unsure of what to do about the nightmares. He never woke Harry up, afraid that he wouldn’t exactly appreciate it, but more and more recently he had started sitting next to Harry’s bed while trying to soothe his unconscious body into better dreams whenever Draco woke up and realized what was happening. He began humming a small lullaby that his mother used to sing to him as a kid, brushing Harry’s hair back from his face and watching as Harry’s body slowly relaxed and his face took on a restful pose instead of the one scrunched in pain.

Draco, now almost nodding off himself, pushed against the bed to help himself stand, glancing at Harry once more before turning and beginning to walk back toward his bed.

“Draco?” Harry called softly, and Draco tensed up, hoping that he was just sleep talking. Turning slowly he eyed the form of Harry laying on the bed, though startled slightly once he noticed Harry’s eyes were open. “I hope it’s you, all I can see is a green blurry shape,” Harry joked, sleepily smirking as he propped himself up and reached for his glasses. Draco felt frozen on the spot, unsure of what was going to happen, if Harry was going to be mad or if he was going to figure out the extent of Draco’s feelings for catching him in this.

“So, it is you.” Harry joked again, pushing himself to sit up completely, looking at Draco with a smile for a few silent moments until it falls away and he sighs. “Look, I know it’s a bit awkward right now but I wanted to-” He hesitated, biting his lip and looking away, “I wanted to talk to you about something?” Draco stood there for another moment before sliding his mask back on and straightening up, smoothing his green silk pyjamas down and nodding toward Harry. “Look- no. That’s not what I want!” He began, grumbling angrily before running his hand through his hair. “I was hoping since it was late, since we both woke up, that you wouldn’t have that- that-” He hesitated, trying to find the word, clenching his fists around his bedsheets. “That mask on your face. That says you don’t care about anything, that shows nothing but contempt. That you hide behind! Because I’ve seen what is behind it, Draco. I love what’s behind that mask.” He sucked in a breath after finishing, closing his eyes and resigning himself to what he said. Draco startled, letting his shoulders sag slightly as he stood there for a bit longer before finally speaking up.

“You’re right, Harry,” Using his first name, which he doesn’t do too often, caused Harry to finally open his eyes and glance toward Draco. “I hide behind this mask because I’m afraid that no one will like who I am behind it. Or I’m scared because it’s too compromising for some people to know how I truly feel, since they can take advantage of that.” He watched Harry for a moment longer before taking a small step forward. “But I know you wouldn’t do that to me. I know you would never take advantage of me.” He finished in a whisper, watching a wide range of emotions flicker across Harry’s face.

“So if it’s not that, then is it the first one you said? You’re afraid that no one will like who you are behind it? You’re afraid that I won’t like the real you?” Draco shrugged, glancing toward the ground. “I have another question-” Harry started, biting his lip as Draco glanced back up and let his eyes rest on Harry, letting his mask fall slightly, as much as he was able to before being afraid. “You treat me so nice. Nicer than most of the others? At least, it feels like that. Hermione said something but- I don’t know.” He bit his lip again, glancing away. “I’m sorry, this is stupid.”

“No, you’re right,” Draco admitted quietly, closing his eyes and lifting his hand to rub his face. He remained quiet for a bit, then peeked through his fingers to see Harry staring at him as if waiting to elaborate. He sighed, shaking his head before continuing, dropping his hands. “I just want to take care of you.” He said finally, wincing slightly. Glancing away, he misses the look that passes over Harry’s face when he says this.

“Come here,” Harry responds quietly, opening his arms. Draco hesitates, but slowly moves over and sits on the bed, and Harry pulls him into a tight embrace. “You help me study so I don’t fail my classes, you brought me medicine and soup when I was sick- you help soothe me when I have nightmares. You do take care of me Draco.” Harry whispers against his ear, squeezing him a bit tighter. “And, through all of it, I’ve seen who you really are. Who you could be if you tried to be. And I’ve-” Harry hesitated, backing away but keeping his eyes off of Draco. “And I’ve fallen in love with you through it all. But I feel bad, because it’s one-sided, isn’t it? You’ve been taking care of me, but I’ve done nothing for you.”

Draco immediately started shaking his head, raising his hand to place on Harry’s cheek, letting his thumb rub against Harry’s cheek for a moment before raising Harry’s head so that his eyes fell onto Draco’s own. “You’re wrong. You’ve done so much for me Harry. Because of you, my bullying stopped. Because of you I’ve gained some amazing friends. Because of you, I feel love and compassion. Real love, not the fake kind that was force fed to me growing up.” Draco leaned closer, looking deeper into Harry’s emerald eyes. “I want to take care of you, Harry. You deserve it, after everything you’ve been through. And it makes me feel good, knowing that I can help you during times like these. Even in small ways.”

He watched Harry tear up slightly before the boy rushed forward, crashing both of their lips against each other. Draco felt himself begin to drown in emotions, in the rolling waves of love and compassion and just pure want. They kissed like it would be their last, like they had been starving and this was the only way to survive. And once they finally parted, Draco opened his eyes to see the love he felt reflected in Harry, and whispered, “I love you too.”

#draco malfoy #harry potter #hp #hp universe #drarry #prompt #requested #writing:requested #light angst #fluff #hopefully

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sakuurae · 7 years

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Overrated [m] || PREVIEW

summary: notorious bad boy, dong sicheng, was never one for attachment. well, not until he met you. surprisingly, there was more that met the eye of the reckless bad boy—something outrageously… pure.

❀ pairing: “bad boy”!sicheng & reader insert || university!AU

❀ includes: humour for the peek; fluff & smut when the whole thing is out

❀ wc: 2.3k for this preview :)

❀ note: Due to my lack of uploads lately i have decided to upload a preview of my (most likely to be) next fic! The estimated word count for this seems like it will be around 15k, but who am i to judge my own word counts at this point ;; anyway, this will probably be out in a week and a half or two—ill do my best to finish this sooner! I hope you enjoy what i have of it so far :) Sorry it doesnt reveal too much! ^~^

Dong Sicheng had a tarnished reputation that was effortless for him to maintain.

Sicheng wreaked havoc day by day, practically stirring an immature calamity on university campus. He carried a storm wherever he went, his footsteps equivalent to a roll of thunder. From his sour persona to the sharp way he talked; his words were bullets to those he aimed them to. Yet, girls flocked around him mindlessly and praised him like none other, falling for his recklessness without a care. On campus, students were either irked, found his personality rebarbative, or completely in love with the idea of him.

Sicheng was stellar in his own way, a star in the worst way possible that managed to outshine the rest. Men had ached to be him while girls craved to spend a night with him—just one, enough to see what he truly, dutifully packed. But that was where Sicheng would expeditiously draw the line, austere and grim, and leave them. Like rain battering down on a scorching pavement, his trace disappeared within seconds.

It was not because the spark of attraction towards the girl was absent, nor was it because he wanted to bring all of them to the edge only to leave them hanging, adding each to the list of rejected individuals. It was due to something else—something borderline shameful to his existence and reputation.

And it was because not a single soul knew that Dong Sicheng, notorious bad boy and ruthless heartbreaker, was a virgin.

Dong Sicheng was not always a scandalous “starboy”. Rather than being known for the negativity that surrounded him to this day, he used to be quite popular for factors of good. He had grades on the top tier, a miraculous talent in dance (and he still does to this day), but now he made choices to never exhibit such favorable qualities. It was as if the tarnished name of “bad boy” stuck to his being like an annoying bur.

Everything started back in high school, his breakthrough of reckless tactics. One accident led to another, like a perfect cascade that built him into who he was today. Impregnable pillars that held him up to his prominent standing had crumbled down to rubble, and soon his pristine title was blighted.

All because Sicheng made the silly choice of dating.

Surprisingly enough, and as cliché as it can get, she was a member of the cheer squad. It started off simple: occasional dates to the cinema and unmitigated walks to the park. Though, despite those activities that might be seen as tedious, he developed genuine feelings for her and cherished every moment. Clearly, it was not him who diminished the relationship, dragging it down to nothing. It was due to her impatience. She was restive to win; to be more specific, a bet with her friends to get into the boy’s pants, and when Sicheng found out he was utterly heart broken at the least. So, the night she was ready to initiate and play her careful cards, facing the false belief she would win the bet, he left her—hell, he never even showed his face to her since then. Of course, she spat out angry curses at how he was gone like the win.

Unwanted results were a consequence for him, for her sour tongue spread negative comments about Sicheng, and the fragile display of his innocent life fell apart like a poor house of cards. But rather than having those unwanted occurrences to run and take over his life, enveloping like an abrupt darkness, he took charge and swore that it would never happen again. Sicheng built himself up, never allowing anyone to cross his path or get close to him, and those who tried were given the cold shoulder. Physical contact was a virus for Sicheng, and he swatted individuals away left and right. The comments that spread around him were too much for his pure soul to handle at the time, and he skipped out on school. But of course, others claimed he ditched for the hell of it. Word even went around that he was dating an older woman—which was more than false, but who was out there to listen to him?

Sicheng maintained his stellar grades through the calamity, keeping everyone at a perceptible distance away. As much as he wanted to avoid making contact with others, spreading his name around the school, the opposite result had occurred and he was helpless to it.

Brushing this off to the side, high school was also where everything had started for you too—not that there was a prominent shift in your name to begin with. You heard word of Sicheng messing around with girls and breaking hearts like it was the news of the century, but you never paid mind, always focusing on your studies.

It was how things always were for you, and how things would forever remain.

After all, at the end of the line, you and Dong Sicheng made it to one of the most prestigious universities out there—with a purpose.

Sun was beating down the slip of Sicheng’s neck as he lingered with his friend, Jaehyun, around the university parking lot. The two of them were cracking jokes about meaningless things, conversing about trivial topics, and laughing the day away. It happened so often, practically daily, to the point it was a fixed part of their routine. Sicheng and Jaehyun would typically wait for their other friends to come by, to which they would all converse for a short while before driving uptown for a bite, or crash at one’s place.

Speaking of Sicheng’s friends, they were making their way towards him right then. One of them, recognizable as Taeyong, had their eyebrows crossed together in a frustrated manner; he appeared to be spitting curses to the other individual who graciously listens in—as much as he wanted to sleep.

Jaehyun’s and Sicheng’s conversation withered into silence as they watched the two boys approach them. After Taeyong indignantly raked a hand through his hair, Sicheng asked him what was wrong.

His friend laughed, informing the other boys of the news of the year. “Our boy, Lee Taeyong, just got rejected.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened, startled to the core at the information. “Whoa, Yuta, are you serious? Taeyong got rejected? That’s a first.”

“Well why do you care so much?” asked Sicheng. “You can get anybody in this university except for one girl. Well, any sorority girl that is.”

Taeyong chuckled lightheartedly, annoyed by his friends’ words. “Tell me about it. I’m just as shocked as you are.” Taeyong turned his head to Sicheng, a sour expression painting on his face. “And Sicheng, I care because I got rejected—for once! The tables actually turned here.”

Sicheng chuckled, acknowledging his point. “Right, right. Sorry.”

Taeyong huffed in vexation, still disbelieved—and he would continue to remain that way for a good while. It was amusing to Sicheng, a surprising turn of events to see one of the guys in his sacred group get turned down by a girl. Each of them was captivating in their own way, and he knew it entirely; at least one of them would fit into the standards of members of the opposite sex. Occasionally, Sicheng wondered how he placed himself in such a group of charming individuals—and cocky, if he must say. It was as if the life he had tried to hard to orbit away from had made its way towards him with might, impressioning on Sicheng’s being for the rest of his life.

Sicheng did not feel like his whole self whenever he hanged around the rambunctious group of boys, but the fun that was frequently stirred made the wasted time worth it. Oh, and hearing all sorts of dish about their lives. That was just on the surface though. Surprisingly enough, beneath each of the boy’s outer shell of superiority and arrogance, was a softer, gentler version. Perhaps that was why Sicheng remained; it was how he got closer to each one of his friends. And after two years they still remained together like peas in a pod.

Though, within those two years, Taeyong had never gotten rejected.

“So what’s the story?” asked Jaehyun, his arms crossing over his chest.

Yuta’s eyes flashed in delight, excitement running throughout his body as he cleared his throat. “Well, Taeyong—”

“Why are you the one telling the story?” Taeyong asked, sourness evident in his tone. “You’re going to add all these extra details again.”

Yuta shrugged, smirking at this friend. “Fine, I’ll get straight to the point”—Yuta took a step towards the two boys, almost like he was ready to exchange confidential information—“but don’t laugh at him. We gave him enough shit for this today.”

Jaehyun laughed and assured Yuta of his light worries. “Don’t worry, just speak up.”

Yuta smiled. “There’s this girl who always stays at the bleachers during baseball practice, probably ‘cause her friend drags her around, but she doesn’t even pay attention to us. In my opinion, the girl’s friend is pretty cute herself.”

Jaehyun raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “Okay, I don’t see the problem yet.”

“And this hotshot”—Yuta nudged Taeyong with an elbow— “thought it would be a fun idea to make her interested—in him, and not our practices. So out of nowhere, Taeyong started to talk to her, but she was never interested. He said the girl looked easy to get, and then—”

“Come on, dude!” Taeyong groaned, cutting his friend off. “She had her nose in a book constantly and I swear when we locked eyes for the first time she wanted me.”

Sicheng shoved his fists into the pockets of his sweatshirt, stultified by the story. “Are you sure it wasn’t the look of ‘leave-me-the-fuck-alone’?”

“Hey!” Taeyong stomped.

“Anyway,” Yuta continued, “when someone’s reading, Taeyong, you’re not supposed to interrupt. Oh, not when they’re talking either… In short, she rejected him pretty harshly by saying—”

Taeyong flinched, grabbing onto Yuta’s sleeve and pulling him back. “No! Don’t tell them what she said, I—”

“‘You? And me—on a date? I had hopes in you being bright, but you must be horribly stupid to think I’d go out with someone like you. It’s one to annoy me, but another to actually ask me on a date while I’m here with my friend. Oh, are you expecting me to hold your hand that has been up other girls’—”

“Okay, Yuta! That’s enough,” Taeyong badgered, hanging his head low. Shame dawned over his being like gargantuan waves, dragging down the last of his dignity. The laughter that poured from the boy’s lips appeared endless, like a never ending waterfall of jocularity caused by Taeyong’s embarrassment. Taeyong’s ears tinge with pink the longer they kept up their fits of chuckles, commenting about the utter failure.

Yuta continued feeding the details to the two boys, as if the riveting information would satisfy them for an entire week, and Taeyong welled in his own congealing ignominy. After Yuta concluded the entire story, talking about himself amid, the boys let out a sigh in relief. Until, of course, Taeyong opened his mouth.

“She was bound to crack,” Taeyong hissed. “But not with me. I want to get back at her but I don’t know how.”

Jaehyun shifted his weight and crinkled his nose, his mouth twisting into a confused smirk, “Tae, how petty can you get? We’re in uni now.”

Sicheng let out a chortle, leaning in closer to Jaehyun. “Very petty, apparently.”

Sicheng’s gaze veered from Jaehyun to the older boy who was boring in his desolation. Taeyong stared at Sicheng for a while, almost scrutinizing him from top to bottom, and soon his lips quirked into a sly smirk. Sicheng raised his eyebrow, dumbfounded to his friend’s change of expression, and questioned what was wrong.

“Sicheng, want to do me a solid?” asked Taeyong, desperation leaking onto his tone. Each word that left his mouth appeared to be leading into the next thread of ideas that ran against his mind; all Sicheng had to do was pay more mind to decipher what he was saying.

Sicheng remained silent for a while, unsure on what to say. The other boys exchanged curious glances and waited for Taeyong to continue.

“Get her back for me—for rejection, please?” Taeyong requested.

Sicheng laughed out of pity, unamused by his question. “Taeyong, we’re too old to play games.”

“Seriously!” Taeyong persisted, walking up to the younger boy. “Just lead her on, get her on the edge, and leave her hanging—you know, what you usually did with girls back then.”

Sicheng clenched his teeth in disgust when he heard his reasoning. Back then? Right, he completely forgot that Taeyong, and his other friends, were aware of his prevalent title and the actions he had “done” to achieve it. Sicheng laughed, a disguise of how repulsive he found the entire situation. “What the heck? You’re kidding me.”

“No, I’m not,” he insisted. “Come on, go pick her up in your nice car or something. Take her out for a ride—then take her out for a ‘ride.’”

The thought of Sicheng witnessing a member of the opposite sex wholly naked made him sweat profoundly, and he shook his head, brushing aside Taeyong’s idea. Shit, Sicheng never had evocative imaginations of any woman before and he refused to start right then and there. “N-no thanks,” he denied, his eyes averting from Taeyong’s.

“But—”

“Enough of this, I’m starving,” announced Jaehyun. “We’ve been waiting for you and Yuta for a while, can we just get something to eat already?”

“The billiards hall?” questioned Yuta, fishing in his pocket for his keys.

Jaehyun nodded in response, and seconds later all of the boys separated into two vehicles, driving right on over to their local hangout.

Sicheng, situated at the passenger seat, wondered who Taeyong was referring to. Sicheng was lost to why he was inquisitive to the girl’s identity. Maybe it was the fact there was a student out there who was withstanded by Taeyong’s overflowing charms. He slowly closed his eyes as he remained deep in his thought; maybe it was not much and he was overthinking it. With that, he waited to arrive at the billiards hall patiently. The second he stepped out of Jaehyun’s vehicle his momentary peace was disrupted by the calls of his friends.

#Woohoo!! Sorry for my inactivity i hope this makes up for it for the time being ahaha #nct #nct smut #nct fluff #sicheng smut #sicheng fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct 127 #winwin #nct winwin #dong sicheng #preview #writing

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skinflesh97-blog · 5 years

Text

Coping

Road trip prep. Kids, you're in charge of the cookies.

My alarm went off at 4:00am—an abrupt wakeup after finally finishing packing just three hours earlier. I snoozed it once…..ok, twice, and then we shoved the kids (still half asleep) into what little space was left in the loaded car, and headed west. It was a lonnnnnnng drive across Nevada—driving into the wind the entire way, dust blowing onto our roadside break of turkey and cheese.

Thanks to the Internet and a few pointers from friends, we had a couple “ideas” where we may want to set up camp for the next four nights-we are not usually great at making FIRM plans….we are more “general idea” kind of people. You could say we are almost always winging it. We headed down a 10 mile dirt road towards what we knew would be THE. MOST. AMAZING. campsite ever—in the trees, right on the lake, perfect. We were tired, hungry, and ready to get settled. Last fall we bought a little pop-up trailer—we figured as often as we camp, it would be nice to get out of the elements occasionally. We have loved it so far—we are always able to find secluded places to park it off the beaten path and keep away from crowds; we had planned on this time being the same.

We could faintly see the clear blue water through the trees, and were relieved and happy to have finally arrived after a full day in the car. But then we pulled up and saw what seemed to be a “local’s only” party….and we were definitely not invited. A few cars and tents scattered around near the water’s edge—no room at the inn—and here’s the kicker, the only place to turn around was occupied by several cars. And we were pulling a trailer. Whoops.

Robby handles these situations much better than I do—we slowly drove through—every head turned. He laughed and waved like we were in a parade “we’re from out of town. Obviously. We didn’t know this place was so popular”. I sat in the passenger seat sweating and sinking lower and lower in my seat, wondering how we were ever going to get out of this place with nowhere to turn around. We inched our way through the trees—Robby maneuvering our set up (that all the sudden seemed like a TRAIN in such tight quarters) and finally managed our way out, using a 57 point turn. We peeled out and kicked up dust as we sped away—except totally opposite of that, because the trailer only allows us to go so fast—and laughed all the way back out to the main road. At least we gave the locals a good laugh, right!? We didn’t want to take our chance down anymore unknown roads, so we put our tail between our legs and headed towards a campground.

California!

We got camp set up around ten—it was 45* in Lassen, and we were still in flip flops and shorts and really too exhausted to do anything but crawl into bed and crash. So we chose sleep over dinner and called it a day.

We took our time waking up the next morning, ate eggs and bacon until we couldn’t eat another bite, and loaded up our packs to head out.. We spent the next three days hiking, paddling, fishing, exploring volcanoes, and completely disconnecting from the outside world. No phone service, no work, no emails to respond to, no worries really—except how stinky our armpits were and how tangled our hair was getting--it was truly the best.

We always manage to find winter in summer.

As we packed up one evening after a day on the lake—fitting kayaks, fishing gear, granola bar wrappers and tired kids into the car, an older gentleman came over—he and his wife were from Los Angeles and driving through the area. He struck up a conversation about our day. “How was the lake? (perfect. empty.) How was the fishing? (more fishing, less catching.)”, and what really struck me, “and your kids LIKE this stuff? How do you make them do all this? How do they cope without their Playstation?”

“Well…..this is kinda...what we DO. They like to play outside—we actually go camping all the time”.

“You mean, you just go out into the woods?”

“yep”…………..

If we were living in a cartoon world his eyes would have popped out of his head and his jaw would have hit the ground.

“Huh.”

end scene.

we had the lake to ourselves.

This conversation really got me thinking. As I type this, we are driving back after eight days on the road. We are exhausted—both physically and mentally, tired of camp food, and absolutely filthy—our best “shower” was soaping* up in a river, hoping the icy cold current would rinse away some of the grime. I miss my animals and my garden, yet I’d happily continue on down the road—I am happiest when I’m out exploring somewhere new. It’s who we are, it’s what we do, and it’s PART of the reason my kids can “cope without their Playstation” (which by the way, we didn’t tell the guy we didn’t even have one.)

But, it’s only part of the reason—I realize that our particular lifestyle is not for everyone, and that’s ok. But there ARE other ways to keep kids from being completely dependent on screens, gadgets, gizmos, and the need for constant stimulation and entertainment. Here are a few of my ideas: (I'm not saying this is the only way to parent, it just seems to work for us:)

Don’t buy them screens/gadgets/gizmos/etc. Hey that’s easy—and cheap! My kids are not this special breed of children who have no desire to glue their faces to something plugged in. But it’s a lot harder to do when they don’t have access to it. They don’t have their own phone or ipad, and we have an old xbox with 4 games that they can earn time for on weekends after all their chores are done--it's GREAT bribery! (ps. I think Minecraft is a GREAT game! So much creativity to unleash!) Do they ask for all the above mentioned stuff? Do they say “but alllllllllllll my friends have ______” They DO! And guess what I say? “I don't care!" And occasionally I like to throw in things like "because I'm the mom and I say so", and then I feel super legit. I realize that as my kids get older, this one is unavoidable, so we will:

Set limits. Maybe you are a cooler parent than me and your kids have a gadget or two. Great! But they don't need to have it in hand alllllllll the time. I started an Instagram account so my kiddos could post the pictures they take and share them with cousins and grandmas and grandpas (and mostly so we could print more Chatbooks!) I log them in so they can post a few photos, we look (together) at what's going on with our cousins, and then I log them out--no time wasted mindlessly scrolling, and no wondering what garbage they saw on Instagram. But they feel connected to their cousins who live far away--win win! When they want to use the computer they have to ask--I want to know what they'll be doing.

Have other options. As much as I wish we could--we can't spend 100% of our time outside. We are a movie loving family and movie nights are our favorite, but I hate the tv always being on--it's such an easy "out". We've had a scorcher of a summer, and some afternoons we have to hide out in the house to beat the heat, but we are making sure to do lots of reading, writing, and artwork instead of letting the tv constantly entertain us.

Don't start them so young! I will probably ruffle so many feathers by saying this, but I honestly can't believe how many babies and toddlers I see with a screen in their hand--the grocery store, church, restaurants--everywhere. I somehow raised my babies without a screen in hand (they weren't even invented yet.) And when I say that, it sounds like I raised my babies in the 1800s and just let them play with tumbleweeds, but really it was just a few years ago, I promise. Was it hard to go to Target with a 4 year old and 2 year old? OH MY GOSH IT WAS THE WORST! But did I somehow manage without attaching them to a glowing screen? I DID! And there were a fair share of public meltdowns, tantrums, whining, complaining--because guess what, they are KIDS, and that's what kids do. But if we stick an iPad in their face (and pretend to be ok with it because it's "educational"), just so we can have a peaceful grocery store experience, how can we expect them to learn to function in real life without that constant stimulation? (I ran out of breath reading that last sentence, did you?)

I am absolutely not a perfect parent, and I pray every day that I'm not screwing these kiddos up too badly. But I do work ridiculously hard to make sure my kids get dirty, breathe fresh air, do chores, don't rely on screens for constant stimulation, know how to be creative, have original thoughts, and entertain themselves. I would love to hear YOUR ideas on how to better keep kids connected to the real world, and not rely too much on electronic interaction.

They seem to be coping just fine.

*I mentioned we soaped up in the river--it was the BEST, and I recommend it (but watch out for people coming down the hill--you'll have to run for cover in your skivvies). We use THESE SOAPS --they are biodegradable and don't mess up the water and vegetation :) **I also mentioned Chatbooks! Do you get these? It's a subscription that I use through my Instagram (you can also create books without IG, but it's so easy and brainless to do it how I do). Every 60 photos I post it sends me a notification that my book is ready--then I can edit captions, take out photos, or do NOTHING, and it will send my photo book automatically--each book costs $8. We LOVE them, and look through them so often (we've been getting them for the last 2 years)--they are great little scrapbooks. If you aren't yet using Chatbooks, go sign up and use the code SHEENA to get 20% off your order now through the end of the month.

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Source: http://inthelittleredhouse.blogspot.com/2016/07/coping.html

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nickelnumber91-blog · 5 years

Text

Coping

Road trip prep. Kids, you're in charge of the cookies.

California!

We always manage to find winter in summer.

“Well…..this is kinda...what we DO. They like to play outside—we actually go camping all the time”.

“You mean, you just go out into the woods?”

“yep”…………..

If we were living in a cartoon world his eyes would have popped out of his head and his jaw would have hit the ground.

“Huh.”

end scene.

we had the lake to ourselves.

They seem to be coping just fine.

SaveSave SaveSave SaveSave

Source: http://inthelittleredhouse.blogspot.com/2016/07/coping.html

0 notes