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h2bakugou · 4 years

Note

Hello dear friend~~May I ask what would be main 3+denki reaction to having a crush on a girl who never studies, and always does her homework in the morning before the class, and then when the results of their exams come out she's in the top5 and they just dont understand how she can have such good grades with how little she studies because she doesnt show that shes actually really smart? ☺️ (happened to me, everyone is shooketh when they found out my grades bc I have a rebel spirit about study?)

a/n: hi hun!! of course! i felt this, i never really studied unless i needed to, or i really didn’t understand something and i think i did pretty okay. but now i’m a drop out so- kjfhdjg i’m going to be doing online school soon though because i’d like to get my high school diploma.

headcanon: them with a crush on someone who never studies but excels in class

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

Bakugou doesn’t expect you to do very well. It’s the honest truth.

He’s watched you every morning, scramble to finish your homework, and somehow manage to write legible answers with how fast your hand moves.

And before every test, he doesn’t see you study at all. It’s like you barely even keep notes.

In fact, he’s almost certain you don’t even keep notes at all. He was willing to bet that the notebook that rested on your desk during note time was promptly filled with doodles and random drawings, maybe even a to-do list or something.

But, all that aside, Bakugou has the fattest crush on you. This man is fucking smitten till the day he dies.

Everything about you astounds him, he’s never seen anyone like you.

And it goes to say that when you come out second in class, under him, he’s fucking confused and amazed at the same time.

He wants to ask you a million questions on how you did, ask if you cheated off of him somehow but he knows that’s not even remotely true.

His idea of trying to ask you out is getting you to study with him.

“Oi.” Bakugou approaches you after class, walking back toward your dorm.

“Oh, hey Bakugou.” You smile at him. You had a crush on him too, but neither side knew the other’s feelings.

“We’re studying together tomorrow. Meet me in the library and don’t be late.” Bakugou storms off, totally chad-like he’s thinking he’s just scored you and everything.

y/n.exe has stopped working.

You know he knows you don’t study.

You show up anyway and you can’t help but laugh because it’s certainly not studying that you two are doing in the library.

Somehow he’s managed to lead you to the library just to take you out on a date somewhere because there’s no book bag in sight, not even a book moved from the shelf.

“Alright let’s go.” Bakugou smirks.

“You could’ve just asked me out on a date in the first place.” You tease him.

“Shut up.” He huffs, smiling.

It’s a really good date.

»»————-　★　————-««

izuku midoriya

»»————-　★　————-««

Midoriya has probably asked you to help him study once or twice. He knows you’re up pretty high in class, you have great grades, but he’;s confused as fuck when you turn him down.

“What?” He blinks at you, confused.

“It’s not that I don’t want to! I’d love to but I uh don’t really study.” You mumble, avoiding his gaze.

“But you have amazing grades-”

“And I finish all my worksheets right before class starts, it’s just how I do things.” You look back up at him and smile.

“I can try my hardest to help, but studying isn’t really my strong suit, I think I get lower grades when I study.”

from that point on, I think Midoriya probably finds you that much more fascinating.

He loves to learn more about you, and knowing that you can finish a big project the morning it’s due and make a top grade, he’s blown away.

He starts to realize he likes you when you start hanging around him more.

You help him as best you can when he comes to you for answers, you’re very smart, you just have a very different way of doing your work from him.

When he finally decides to make the move, he’s shitting bricks. He’s nervous, and totally freaking out because he doesn’t even know if you like him.

“Uh hey, (Y/n)?” Midoriya pulls you aside after class, stopping you before you leave the classroom.

“What is it Izu?” You ask, having given him the cute nickname after being on a first name basis with him.

“I was wondering, well if you’d like to go on a date with me.” Midoriya gained some confidence after the sentence came out, looking at you with determination and affection.

“Sure, when and where?” You smiled, feeling your face begin to heat up.

“Wherever you want, there’s a really nice restaurant that opened up nearby-”

“Sounds like fun.” You glance away and smile. You had butterflies in your stomach.

“Are you nervous?” Midoriya asked, watching as you seemed to be a little anxious yourself.

“A little. My crush just asked me out so...” You giggle.

“You’re nervous about me asking you out but not finishing a project the day it’s due?!”

“Those are two totally different things!”

»»————-　★　————-««

shoto todoroki

»»————-　★　————-««

I feel like Todoroki knows from the get go that you don’t study. He never sees you in the study groups, or in the library. He always sees you doing some sort of paperwork in the morning, and he catches on rather quickly that it’s last night’s homework, or an assignment from earlier on in the week.

Still, he can’t jump to conclusions just yet.

He overhears Kirishima talking to Kaminari about you. He’s not trying to eavesdrop on their conversation but he’s curious nonetheless.

“Yeah, I don’t think they study at all.” Kirishima tells Kaminari.

Todoroki is pretty intrigued now.

Starts investigating to see if you actually study or not. And when he doesn’t find anything to say that you do, he just waits for the exam results to come back.

He knows you didn’t study, no one accounted for you at any study groups, and Sero even said you’d gone to bed after training that afternoon.

When the results come back, Todoroki is dumbfounded.

You did better than him. You landed a whole three spots above him.

Todoroki makes it his goal to talk to you now. And you two become really good friends, and Todoroki develops this crush on you.

He’s not sure how it even happened, all he knows is he likes you and everything about you intrigues him.

So when you’re hanging out in his dorm room, just talking and chilling out, he asks if you want to study for the next quiz coming up.

“Oh I don’t actually study.” You giggle, looking at the half-and-half boy you had a crush on.

“You don’t?” Todoroki restates, finally confirming all his suspicions.

“Nope. It doesn’t really do much for me, I’ve never really studied.”

From then on out, Todoroki enjoys when you accompany him while he studies. He studies alone just to be able to spend time with you.

Especially when he asks you out.

“(Y/n)?” Todoroki glances up from his work sheet and you look up from the book he’d lent you to read while he worked on his assignments.

“Yeah Sho?” You smile at him, closing the book, holding your spot with your thumb.

“Would you like to go on a date after school soon?” He asks, getting the question he’d been wanting to ask off his chest finally.

“Yes.” Your eyes lit up at his question and you could feel your face getting hotter by the second.

“You look hot.” Todoroki comments on your flustered face which only deepens at his comment.

“I didn’t mean- I mean you are very beautiful but your face looked hot as in temperature.” Todoroki’s own face begins to flush at his fumbled words as you begin to smile and laugh.

“You’re too cute.” You grin at him. He smiles back and returns to his work, ready to take you on that date.

»»————-　★　————-««

denki kaminari

»»————-　★　————-««

Kaminari has no clue. He’s oblivious. I don’t think he’s as stupid as people make him seem but he certainly doesn’t catch on right away, it takes a bit of time.

And one loud mouthed explosive blonde haired friend of his to point it out.

“I was gonna ask them to study with us after class.” Kaminari states, telling the group about his first move to try and ask you out. He’s had a crush on you since he laid eyes on you, and he’s shooting his shot.

“You dumbass. They don’t study.” Bakugou groans, looking over at you, scrambling to finish your homework.

“That’s the homework from last night.” Bakugou points out to Kaminari and his eyes go wide.

“There’s no way they’re going to pass!” Kaminari exclaims.

“We have to go help them!” Kaminari is about to go rush over to you but Kirishima stops him and laughs.

“Just wait, you’ll see.” Kirishima reassures Kaminari.

And sure enough, when the homework gets returned, Kaminari watches as your paper returns with the highest marking. You passed. With a perfect score.

This doesn’t stop Kaminari from shooting said shot though. He’s trying even harder. He’s determined.

"So there’s that big test coming up.” Kaminari began talking to you about three weeks ago, you’ve become friends, and you both have mutual feelings for one another that the other doesn’t know about, but it’s pretty obvious to the surrounding friends in the Bakusquad.

He’s talking to you about the test coming up with all of the subjects you’ve covered so far, a bit of a mid-term if you will.

“I’m a little nervous about it if I’m being honest.” You admit, taking a bite of your lunch.

“Do you wanna study with us later tonight?” Kaminari asks, feeling volts coarse through his veins as he awaits your answer.

“Studying isn’t really my thing. It’s not that I don’t want too! Please don’t think I’m trying to avoid you guys.” You bite your lip and look away trying to come up with the right words to say.

“Studying crams my brain and I don’t really think fluidly when the test comes, I get worse grades when I study then when I don’t.”

“I’ll stop by after with snacks and drinks so you don’t feel left out then.” Kaminari grins, his amber eyes full of excitement.

And sure enough, he stops by, a few slices of pizza and some soda in hand.

“So I was thinking, me and you.” Kaminari starts. You’re playing some video games before lights out.

“Me and you?” You question, currently beating Kaminari in Mario Kart.

“Yeah like, would you wanna go out sometime?” He asks, smiling.

“Sure, that could be a lot of fun.” Your face begins to heat up, and you lose your spot to Kaminari as your mind begins to scream with excitement. You feel your heart beating faster.

“Wait really?” Kaminari turns to look at you pausing the game.

“Yes. I like you, and I want to go on ad ate with you.” You smile, setting the controller down.

“Oh this is awesome!” Kaminari hugs you.

The next day when the test is over, the Bakusquad stands dumbfounded as you pass the test with the highest score, even beating Bakugou.

Kaminari is proud.

»»————-　★　————-««

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hanamakkiss · 4 years

Text

Pros and Cons

Matsukawa Issei x reader

summary: Being childhood friends with Oikawa and Iwaizumi had few perks, it's all worth it when one of those perks came in the form of one(1) Matsukawa Issei.

Where Matsukawa gets a nickname.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

a/n: yall rmb y/n talking about a hot vb boy? yea also makki is a lil shit but everyone loves him UPDATE: reuploaded sorry😓😓😓

You had made it a point to visit trainings whenever you were free now.

Always popping up whenever the coaches left, Matsukawa’s eyes were instinctively drawn to you when you entered, not that it was hard, considering how much ruckus you made.

After greeting everyone generally, you spent some time chatting with OIkawa when you head whips around to-

Kyoutani?

Oh right, this would be the first time you met him after anticipating it for so long. Matsukawa gestures to Makki about your actions and the two of them pause to watch the show.

Prancing over to the cropped blonde, excitement coming off in waves, "Kyouken! I've heard so much about you! I-"

"Stay away from me." he practically growled.

You froze in your tracks.

"Huh?" your head tilts, taking a step towards him.

"Why?"

Another step.

The growling intensifies, "Or else."

"Or else what? What are you going to do to me?"

Another step.

You're standing directly in front of him now, eye to eye. The sound of balls impacting a gym floor has ceased. Matsukawa tenses, holding his breath.

A second passes, then five.

Kyoutani turns and sprints out of the gymnasium.

Jolted by the sound of feet slamming against the floor, you turn around, head resting on your palm, "Oh dear, I don't think he likes me very much. What a pity," you basically spat the last word out. The contrast between your words and your sinister smile sends shivers down his spine.

Wow. He lets out a low whistle, that sure was something. For a second there, you had the same menacing aura Oikawa sometimes sported. He doesn't know if the stuttering of his heart was fear or attraction.

Somewhere nearby he hears Oikawa's laughter get cut off by a yelp and a stern warning. ("I told you to stop influencing her! Now look at how weird she is!")

Makki comments what he thought, “What, the fuck?”

“Amazing, isn’t she? I thought her that mysELF-“ Oikawa is cut off by a blow to the stomach.

“Shut up, stop looking so proud of yourself, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi scowls.

By this time you had made your way back to them, all smiles. “Sure hope I get to talk to him again someday,”

Makki snorts his water out.

The morning for the study session arrives.

As Matsukawa strolls to your house, he briefly wonders how the day might go. He figures it might become a little awkward if it was just the two of you, so he's thankful that Makki would be present.

Your house comes into view when the devil himself texts him.

He doesn't have to wait long before he got his answer. Just as he presses the doorbell, his phone chimes again.

Ah fuck. He doesn't even have time to curse him before the door is swinging open.

"Hi," you greet him, "welcome, to my humble abode," you usher him in with a flourish.

Ah shit, he takes off his shoes, here we fucking go.

Making his way to your bedroom he takes note of the frankly absurd number of houseplants that filled the place. Every free window, corner and crevice was stuffed with greenery. He vaguely remembers a flourishing garden in the front yard too.

Entering your room was no different, every available space on your desk and windowsill had small succulents and tiny flowering plants. He takes a moment to study while you set up the floor table.

“Doesn’t... having a lot of plants diminish your oxygen level at night...?” Your head whips around, scowl already in place.

“That’s just a myth. Plants don’t produce enough carbon dioxide at night to suffocate, otherwise how would forest animals survive?” The agitation with which you reply clues him in that you got this question too often.

“Also, if that works I would have already died,” you add on as an afterthought.

His eyebrows shoot upwards as he blinks slowly, “Um, alright, good to know?”

You grin in response, patting the floor next to you, “Sorry about the mess, I don’t have many friends who visit,”

“Judging by how much time you spend with us, I was starting to think you didn’t have any others,” he teases, eager to clear the awkward air.

“Eh, that’s true,” you shrug, “you guys are kind of my only friends in Seijoh,”

Oh shit, did he just overstep? He cringes inwardly when you interrupt.

“Why else would I spend so much time with a bunch of idiots?” the playfulness of your tone allows him to relax.

“Considering how well you mesh with us, doesn’t that make you an idiot too?”

Your smile drops, making a noise of indignation as your own joke is played against you. He just laughs as he avoids your smack, opening his textbook.

The previous conversation still weighing on his mind, he contemplates asking you about it.

“What is it.” You don’t even look up.

“What?”

“I can feel you staring at me, and your finger tapping is really loud,” looking up, you scrunch your face at him. “If you wanna say something, just say it.”

“Mmmhm alright then, if you don’t mind, are you on bad terms with your classmates?”

You stare back blankly, “Not...as far as I know?”

“Do you not hang out with any of them?” Are you not friends with them? You sense the unasked question.

“Well...” you trail off for a few moments, contemplative, before looking him in the eyes, grimacing.

“It’s... kind of due to Kawa?” at his confusion you rush to explain, “Not that he did anything! It’s more of... us being so close? Even platonically,” you scratch the back of your neck.

“They’re nice until they find out I’m close friends with Kawa and Iwawa. Then they either outright hate me, or get close to me in hopes of a better chance with him. Not all of them are like that though! But, at a certain point it’s easier to avoid that problem entirely rather than sifting through. Some girls look really nice, I just don’t know how to talk to them, I transferred in so late, after all.” you laugh sheepishly.

He hopes he isn’t letting his indignation show on his face.

“Does he know?”

“God no, that’s kind of a bastard thing to do, isn’t it? Hey, did you know I can’t have any girl friends cause they’re all crazy over you? That’s kind of fucked up yea? He can’t even do anything about it.” You wave a hand in the air, dismissing the idea.

“What about Iwaizumi,” he tries.

An incredulous look, “You think he would understand that? He barely even looks at girls! Actually, now that you mention it, a sizeable portion of the girls who befriended me had a crush on him. Guess it’s because he’s intimidating,” you nod along to your own words.

“So you’ve just been alone this time?” He can’t wrap his head around it.

“I haven’t been alone! I’ve got you guys, don’t I? I wouldn’t change that for anything,”

The look of happiness you pin him with causes his heart to flutter, but he’s not entirely convinced.

Sensing his unease you soften, “Besides, there’s only a few more months left, I can handle it,”

He exhales his frustration, letting the topic go. Nothing much he could help with anyway. The only thing he could do now was stay by your side, if you need him.

“Thank you for your concern,” You pat his hand comfortingly, the sides of your lips tug upwards, and you speak the next words gravely. “But,” breath bated, he waits for you to continue.

“sometimes, it really do be like that.”

He attempts to flip the table, causing you to scramble for cover, choking on your laughter as you do.

The two of you fall into a steady rhythm, asking each other questions here and there.

A few hours pass when both phones chime, breaking your concentrations, “Oh! Makkun’s at the convenience store now, whaddya want?”

He tells you his order and while you type it in, he observes your figure.

You’ve got a thing for nicknames, he’s always wondered about it.

“Hmm? What? Oh, yea, I guess I do, what about it?” Looking up, your gaze is pointed.

“Huh?” Shit, did he say that out loud?

“You said I got a thing for nicknames? What about it?” You leaned towards him, a teasing grin forming.

He feels himself begin to instinctively draw back before forcing himself to still. “Just like Oikawa, was what I meant.”

At this, your grin deepens, “Well, duh. Who do you think he got it from?”

Interesting. He nods in understanding.

“Well,” he drags the word out, mirroring your grin, “you don’t have a unique nickname for me, are we not close enough?”

Your smile turns into an O as you process his words. He’s right, you never really thought about it.

“Huh. I guess not. Do you want one?”

Stupid of him to admit, but he didn’t expect you to ask him that, and he takes a moment to decide. Did he want a special nickname from you? Is that asking too much? Moving too fast? Just as he’s about to reply, you make the choice for him.

“You know what? I’m gonna give you one anyway. Just give me some time to think.”

He just shrugs, accepting, and goes back to doing his work.

Some time passes and he sneaks a glance at you. A cute furrow nestled between your brows, you doodled in your notebook.

“I’ve got it!” You slam your hands on the table, shifting to place more weight on your knees, leaning far across the table now.

His pencil slips out of his hands from the sudden eye contact.

“How about,” you pause for effect, so close now he could count the light freckles on your cheeks, “Issei?”

The sound of his name coming out of your lips causes his brain to short-circuit. He never knew it could sound so sweet.

“Well?” You probe, “It’s kind of a cop out but I like how it sounds,” you sound it out a few more times with different intonations.

He thinks he might die.

“Hey, you okay? If you don’t like it you can let me know, yanno?”

“It’s fine,” he chokes out, “go ahead.”

“Great! Then-“

The doorbell rings.

“Oh! He’s here! Be right back!” You don’t wait for a reply before leaving.

Matsukawa has never been more thankful for Makki’s impeccable timing. Lucifer used to be an angel, he supposes.

He passes a hand over his face, willing his cheeks to cool down.

He composes himself just in time for Makki and you to enter.

Makki lets out a hum of appreciation, “Mad oxygen in here,”

He turns to you, “Say, isn’t it bad for you at night?”

“Oh my god, do the two of you share one braincell?”

#matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei #matsukawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #matsukawa imagines

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your-denki-kun · 3 years

Text

The Past Should Stay The Past

Kirishima x bakugou

Warning: Suicide attempt, negative thoughts, mentioning of voices, angst, mentioning of bullying, depression, deep thoughts, shitty writing

What: Angst with good ending

A/N: So fun fact I first wanted this to be a story in Bakugou’s point of view, but then I got the idea to make it like a diary thing and ended up making this. I hope you guys enjoy and feel free to make requests, I don’t do smut.

~???? pov.~

It happened three days ago. No one saw it coming and yet it didn't come as a surprise. Funny how those things work from time to time. We hadn't seen Bakugou in about a day and started to get faintly worried, because no matter what he did to Midoriya in the past he's still our classmate. The reason we got worried is because Bakugou always leaves his room at least once a day.

We voted on who was going to check and it had been me, when it comes to Bakugou it's almost always me. So I went up to his room, not really bothered by having to check up on him because I'm worried and sometimes I hear strange sounds coming from his room when it's silent in mine. I had knocked on his door only for it to stay silent.

After a bit I knocked again, yet I didn't get an answer. I told him I was coming in and tried opening the door, but it was locked, so I kicked open the door. That's when I saw it. He was laying in the middle of his room, on the floor with foam escaping his mouth as he was trashing on the floor.

''BAKUGOU!!!'' I had yelled as I ran over to him and pulled him onto his side so he wouldn't choke.

I remember screaming for someone to call and ambulance. Sero, who had followed me up, glanced inside the room confused and quickly called an ambulance as he told everyone else to stay away from the room. It didn't take long for the ambulance people to come and take him with them.

That brings us to now, three days after that. School has been canceled for the rest of the week for us to recover from the shock. This is my first day back at the dorms, seeing I have been with Bakugou since he got brought into the hospital. I'm in his room now, looking for clues as to why. Soon I find his diary and after contemplating for a bit I open it and start reading.

'Okay, I ain't going to make it sappy and write all the classic shit, I'm just going to write down my fucking thoughts or whatever. I read it worked on the internet. So....It's been a few weeks since everything started. Random extra's have been whispering comments about me to each other while giving me disapproving glances and glares. I don't fucking get why it's getting to me but whatever.

I've also been noticing the shitty extra's from the squad have been distancing themselves from me. They no longer want my help studying and more often than not they hang out without me. For some shitty reason it makes me feel really shitty. God this shit is stupid.'

I read on the first page. My eyes tear up as I flip to the next page.

'Been about four days since I last wrote in this shitty thing. Today shit got physical. This bitch purposefully bumped into me and then kicked me before laughing and walking off with her shitty friends. Fucking bitch.

Shit is becoming weird when I'm alone. I will hear these shitty voice that tell me fucked up things, it leaves when I have others to focus on. No one wants to fucking be around me however, so that is shit. I hope these shitty voices will leave before I go fucking mental. I think I might be writing in this shitty thing again because it makes my chest feel lighter for a bit or some shit.

God I sound so fucking sappy right fucking now. Guess that's what happens to people when you get emotionally overwhelmed.

The shitty extra's have stopped talking to me. I removed myself from the shitty group chat. Life has become so fucking dull now. God I hate to fucking admit it but I miss them. God I really am turning into a fucking sap. This shit is stupid.'

I feel a few tears falling as I read what he wrote. I'm glad that even when he writes he's vulgar, because that means he was still feeling like himself somewhat, but what he writes is so sad and depressing. The page beside it has random doodles on it which I can't really make out, so I flip the page and start reading the next one.

'Welp, I'm writing in this thing again. It's been, uhm. three weeks I think since the last time I wrote in this. I should really put dates on these pages, but I'm to tired to do that. Sleeping is hard for me the last three days. Every time I close my eyes I see bad memories of the past. Deku, if you ever read this, I'm so sorry for what I did.

I could never say that to you in real life, because that means showing you I'm defeated. That's right, I'm defeated. I'm slowly breaking and no one sees. The last week I cried more than I have in all the time I’ve been alinve. I cry myself to sleep and no one notices. Guess that's my fault though, I’ve always been a distant person.

I'm glad concealer was invented, because it helps me with hiding the bags under my eyes. I can't hide the deadness of my eyes however, but it's not like anyone notices so what's there to hide? The voices are wining, slowly. It's becoming harder to fight them and they pester me every minute of the day.

The shit I doodle on the side of my note books and papers have also taken a dark turn, just like my mind. Yesterday I drew a black figure hanging from a noose that was attached to the ceiling. A chair was on the ground. The figure was tired of everything, just like me. Funny how something as simple as words can change a person.

Sometimes the voices tell me to end it. I won't. Not yet at least. And I already established that if I do end it, I won't hang myself. It's too slow and painful. I think I'll either slit my wrist or OD. It feels weird writing that down. God I really hope no one ever reads this shit.

I've been silent in classes, barely talk anymore. The only times I talk is to answer a question from a teacher. My classmates don't talk to me anymore, not even when we're teamed up during hero training. It's weirdly lonely, which is new for me. Guess I deserve to be alone however, so I don't really deserve to complain about it.

How did Dek Izuku deal with my shit for so long? I can't even deal with it for four shitty months and he dealt with it for eleven years. I really am weak, just like everybody always tells me. Even the hag thinks I'm weak. Can't disagree anymore though. I wonder if any noticed how silent I've become. Guess they don't, but still. This is stupid.'

Tears stream down my face as I read what he wrote down. It takes up about two pages of the diary and it's breaking my heart even more than it's already broken. As I read a few more pages I notice how every thing is becoming more depressing and depressing. One page catches my attention however.

'Izuku told his friends about what I did when we were younger. Uraraka told the others and now I really don't have anyone left. I deserve it though.

The voices are annoying as hell and won't stop degrading me and telling me to end it. In a way I get where they're coming from. Guess this is what you get for bullying your childhood friend.

Is loneliness supposed to hurt so much? Don't know. Can't really ask anyone either. Guess I'll be pondering about that for a while now. The voices will probably tell me this is nothing. Guess it isn't. God I should be stronger. What the fuck am I doing here?'

I flip the page and read a few more before another one catches my attention.

'It's decided. The day after tomorrow I'll OD, cutting hurts too much and is too slow. People could find me easily when I cut myself. If I OD it isn't very painful, but not painless and it will be quick. It will end my misery fasted, yet still a bit painful.

I drew another suicide drawing. In this one a black figure is standing on top of a building, an empty bottle behind them on the roof and foam spilling from their mouth. The figure is half leaning off it, arms spread as they're just about to fall. I drew one after it, the same figure, but now on the ground surrounded by blood as their body is broken and bloodied.

I’m gonna stop writing in this now. The only things I'll be writing is letters to the people I care about. This is stupid.'

I drop the diary and wipe at my eyes, trying to get a clearer view before getting up and stumbling around his room to find the letters he was talking about. As I open the drawer of his desk I see one single envelope with my name on it. I grab it with shaking hands before turning it around and opening it. I pull out the papers with writing on it and start reading.

'Hey Kirishima,

No idea if you'll even read this, but deep down I hope you do. The only hope I have at the moment. I don't know if you've noticed, but the past half year I’ve been getting bullied. People will beat me up, call me things and talk about me as if I'm not there. I know I shouldn't let it get to me, but I'm not as strong as Izuku.

I have never been. That's why I bullied him, because even though he didn't have his quirk back then, he was still better than me and I hated that. I thought that if I bullied him it would stop and he would break and I would be better, but it didn't work. The reason I wanted to be better is because people told me I was better than him.

If you found this you've been looking around my room, I don't blame you. I have a feeling you found my book in which I wrote first, seeing it was pretty much out in the open. No one would have found it, but I know you did. You know my room better than any one else because you've been here the most.

If you've read it you know why I did this, if you didn't read it.... I OD'ed because I didn't see the point in living. The voices in my head have been telling me to do this for a long time. I finally decided to give in. And here we are.

On the one hand I hope someone finds me and is able to safe me. On the other hand I hope no one finds me until it's too late. I can't take this anymore and I know that makes me weak, but I've already accepted I’m weak a long time ago. Well....Not that long, but for about four months now.

Don't be sad. Please don't be. There is no point in being sad. I....Well, I didn't deserve to be here in the first place, at UA. For some fucked up reason I got accepted however. I got kidnapped and ended All Might, I ruined everyone's lives and got us all in trouble. I guess that was the time shit changed.

I got kidnapped and ever since things have been going down hill. The hag called me weak, you guys had to safe me because I couldn't safe myself, I ended All Might, got you all in trouble, failed my provisional license exam, got into a fight with Izuku and got us on house arrest, I almost lost you.

That really hurt me. When they told me you had gotten hurt while saving Eri. I think that's when I realized what you are to me. That must confuse you...Let me explain. Ever since I met you you have always wanted to be my friend. I still don't know why you wanted to be my friend, but I'm glad.

Maybe that's why I got into UA, to meet you. Anyway, I'm getting side tracked. At first I hated you for wanting to be my friend, I didn't see the point of having any. Soon you showed me that having friends is great however. You and the others were never too bothered by my behavior and stuck with me.

No one has ever stuck with me for as long as you guys did. My past friends just used me for a good image at school. Soon you became my best friend, after the sport festival to be precise. You are my first best friend after Izuku. You stuck with me, made me laugh and smile. You were always there for me.

When you reached out to me that day I knew you'd always have my back. And then you got hurt. You were unconscious and in the hospital. It was then I realized I love you, Eijirou Kirishima. So, so much. I snuck into your dorm and stole a hoodie which I put around a pillow and hugged every night until you were back here at the dorms.

But all good things must come to an end. You realized how I truly am and decided that that is not what you want as a friend. I understand that, I do. Don't feel bad for leaving me behind, never ever feel bad about that.

Like the stupid audio I used to listen to says; I'm used to it. I'm used to people walking out of my life, I'm used to people talking bad about me, I'm used to people pretending to be my friends, I'm used to being let down, I'm used to being lied to, I'm used to being heartbroken.

You didn't let me down thought. Never did you let me down. God, you exceeded all my expectations. Don't ever change yourself, no matter what people say. Because that's the biggest mistake of my life, changing because others wanted me to. I hope that when you read this letter you understand I'm not the vulgar person I let everybody believe I am.

I'm actually a kind, caring person. But because of my quirk people expected me to be different, so I changed so they wouldn't be let down. I care a lot about what others think and being angry is my mask. When I'm angry people won't notice I'm hurting or happy or anything. They just see me being angry.

This is a long letter, sorry about that. I just wanted to get everything off my chest even if no one ever reads this. You are the best friend I could ever hope for so continue being a great person, become the best hero out there. Make me proud. Well, I already am so proud of you, but make me even prouder.

I love you, Eijirou Kirishima.

Yours truly, Katsuki.'

Tears stream down my face as I collaps to the floor and sob. That's all I can manage to do except for clutching the letter to my chest. I sob and sob and sob until I feel arms wrap around me. I glance up and see gold hair. I clutch onto Kaminari as I sob into his chest. He simply rubs my back as he holds me.

I don't know how long we sat there, only that it was a long time. When I finally manage to calm down I break my hug with Kaminari and wipe at me face, getting rid of all the snot and tears. I look at Kaminari with what I can only imagine, red puffy eyes as he looks at me worried, but also a bit confused.

''What happened?'' Kaminari asks softly, almost as if he's scared to speak up.

''B-Bakubro...He......He left me a letter.'' I whisper back, voice hoarse from crying.

''I see...What was it about?''

I silently hand him the letter. He takes it gently and reads it. I just watch him as different emotions show on his face as he comes to different parts of the letter. When he finishes he looks at me with tear brimmed eyes. His hands are shaking as he looks so sad and conflicted. I simply take the letter for him and place it on the ground beside me.

''Yeah...'' Is all I manage to mumble as I look back up at him.

''He...He was hurting so much....How..How didn't we notice?'' Kaminari stammers in disbelieve.

''Like he said...He hid it.......I....I’m gonna go.'' I mumble as I get up and walk out of the room.

I walk downstairs and out of the dorms, ignoring the worried questions form my classmates. I get onto the buss and ride it to the hospital. As I arrive I silently walk up to his room. I hesitate before walking into his room. I stare at the door for a while before slowly opening it. The room is empty except for Bakugou's bed and the machines he's hooked up to.

'His parents must have left.' I think as I walk over to the chair beside the bed. I sit down on it and take Bakugou's hand in mine. It's warmer than when he got here, but it's still cold compaired to how warm they usually are. I stare at his hand as my eyes tear up once again. With my free hand I wipe at my eyes.

''Wake up...Please...I need you.'' I sniffle as I feel more and more tears streaming down my face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I slowly open my eyes when I feel something shift. As I sit up I groan and rub at my burning eyes. I hear another groan and look at the source wide-eyed. Bakugou has a troubled look at his face as his head moves from side to side, mumbled words and groans leaving him. I jump up and push the alarm button that's attached to the bed.

''What's wrong?'' A nurse asks as she walks into the room.

''He's stirring and groaning.'' I explain with wide eyes as I look at her.

''I see, that must mean he's waking up.'' She states as she walks over and checks the machines and his IV drip.

''So it's a good sign?'' I ask with a hopeful glint in my eyes

''Yes.'' She chuckles.

As if on cue Bakugou's eyes shoot open and his whole body tenses up. The nurse gently removes his mask before rubbing soothing circles on his shoulders, trying to get him to relax. Slowly it works and his eyes go back to normal as he relaxes onto the bed. Slowly he moves his head to look at the nurse who's smiling gently at him.

''Who found me?'' He croaks out as he winches slightly.

''This young man did.'' The nurse says as she looks at me.

Bakugou turns his head to look at me. As soon as our eyes meet his widen in shock as mine tear up for the millionth time this day. I jump up and hug him tight, being mindful of all the wires, and sob into his shoulder. He just lays there, staring at the ceiling as he's frozen in his spot. I can hear the nurse excusing herself before she walks out.

''I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have left you behind! Don't ever do this again! I'm sorry!'' I sob as I hold him tighter.

''Kirishima......You..You found me?'' Bakugou asks in a weak and shocked voice.

''Yes! We were worried and I went to check up on you. You were shaking and foam was coming out of your mouth. I was so scared...Sorry.'' I say, voice getting weaker the longer I talk, as I break the hug and look at his face.

''The letter.''

''I found it and read it. I love you too, so don't do this again. Please.''

''I...You love me?''

''Yes. Of course I do silly. Promise me that you won't do this again. Promise you'll come to me when you feel down. Please, I can't loose you.'' I beg him.

''....Promise.'' He whispers, the look of shock still not leaving his face.

''Good. This is going to be shitty timing, but.....Will you be my boyfriend?''

''Yes.'' He whispers, a glint I can't place in his eyes.

I smile and hug him again, nuzzling my face in his neck and placing a small kiss on it. Katsuki slowly wraps his arms around me and holds me close with the little strength his body holds right now. I instinctively hold him tighter when I notice just how little strength he has. Katsuki chuckles in respons.

''I love you, Katsuki.'' I whisper against his neck.

''I love you too, Eijirou.'' Katsuki whispers back.

27 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 4 years

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 4

September 28th 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was letting it all out.

Siena had called, cooped up in her room in the house she rented with two other girls, taking a break from studying for torts law or shorts law or whatever type of law it was that she had to study. It was these moments – moments when Siena caught up with her younger sister – that reminded her that she was slaving through law school because Aberdeen would probably need a lawyer one day after doing something colossally stupid. She’d usually start the conversations with “You can’t tell mom and dad…” and Siena would promise not to. And, well, she’d keep that promise. Because sisters never told. They only ever told on Camden.

Aberdeen told Siena about the night with William in June – she told her about a week later, after Siena was finally settled back into her place in Ottawa. They’d talked about it for a while and had come to terms with the fact that Aberdeen would never see William again because of the whole Sweden thing and because of the fact that Toronto was a city full of a few million people. They’d accepted it and moved on.

But then, of course, William showed up in the elevator on her first day of work and the floodgates opened.

“Wait…hold on a second,” Siena held her hand up. “You’re telling me you hooked up with a Toronto Maple Leaf.”

“Yes.”

“A hockey player. That guy was a hockey player.”

“Yes,” Aberdeen stressed.

“And now…” Siena paused. “You work for the president of the team that he plays for.”

“Precisely.”

Siena let out a long, loud sign, facepalming before rubbing her temples. “I don’t know how you get yourself into these situations, Aberdeen,” she shook her head. “I honestly don’t.”

“I don’t, either.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

Aberdeen looked at her sister weird. “There’s nothing I can do about it. It says right in the employee handbook that no employee and player are allowed to hook up. I can’t tell Brendan and William can’t tell the rest of the team. That’s that.”

“Are you scared he might?”

Aberdeen considered the question. “I really don’t know. On one side, I feel like if he really wanted to tell them he would have told them already, and Brendan Shanahan would have found out through the grapevine and I would have already lost my job. Like, I wouldn’t have even gone to Newfoundland. On the other hand, I feel like the comments he’s been saying to me just make it seem like this is a game to him and he’s waiting on the most opportune moment to tell.”

“Comments?” Siena asked.

Aberdeen sighed. “I went to dinner with a bunch of them in St. John’s because Jason invited me, and he asked me who my favourite Leaf was in this really flirty way,” she explained. “Then a few days later he found me alone and told me I should have said him. Or at least have said he was fucking awesome because that’s what I said that night after we hooked up.”

Siena facepalmed again. “Oh, Aberdeen…”

“I know, Siena.”

“Does Kasha know?” she asked.

“Of course Kasha knows.”

“Kasha won’t tell a soul. She’s good like that.”

“I know. My problem here is William.”

“Listen, Aberdeen…this is a fucked up situation but it’s…I mean, technically you didn’t hook up with him when you were employee. It was months before. You had no idea who he was. That’s what my lawyer brain is telling me right now.”

“I don’t know if that matters,” Aberdeen said. “I keep getting told that this is the dream job, that if I do well with Mr. Shanahan I can have my pick of any job in any field that I want in Toronto, including writing. That’s how well connected he is. I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side at all. I have to be on my best behaviour and I have to keep doing well.”

“Then keep being on your best behaviour. Keep doing your job,” Siena encouraged. “And keep William away.”

***

September 30th, 2019

With only two days until the start of the season, Brendan had a lot of meetings with a lot of people. There were meetings with hockey ops, meetings with the head scouts, meetings with player development, meetings with analytics. It was a much busier time than just three weeks ago. A lot more coffee runs. More ordering of catered lunches. More running around like a chicken with her head cut off, like Brendan said she would. And this wasn’t even the start of the season.

Brendan wanted her to sit it in on the meeting he had now with basically the entire senior management so they could go over upcoming events and initiatives they’d put on throughout the season. Kyle Dubas would be there. Brandon Pridham and Laurence Gilman, the assistant general managers would be there. Dave Morrison, the director of player personnel would be there. Brad Lynn, the director of team operations would be there. Stephen Hare, the director of finance would be there. Steve Keogh, the director of media relations would be there. Alison Rockwell, the director of business relations would be there. Leanne Hederson, the manager of hockey operations would be there.

Aberdeen was clearly studying the employee directory.

They had a list of things to talk about, and talked through them all. Aberdeen had her notebook and tried to take notes, but she felt like she was writing a foreign language and none of this would make sense when she went to read them again. There was talk about “You Can Play Night”, about galas, about charity golf tournaments, about community outreach programs, about the alumni events, about the MLSE Launchpad initiatives…

Then they started to talk about alternate jerseys. She thought there was only home and away jerseys, but no, there was apparently a third for a special night. A “St. Pats” jersey. It was green. A definite change from the blue, but they kept going on and on about it. Do we do this? What about this? How about this? It was incredibly pedantic. She felt like she was in science class again, doodling instead of taking notes since she had no clue what was being said or what was going on.

“Do you think we should go with the same one from last season, or should we choose a new design?” Dave Morrison asked.

“It’s hard to say. If we go with last year’s design, jersey sales may stagnate or decline if we compare it on a year-by-year basis, but a new design will boost that,” Stephen Hare said.

“Well, listen. It’s the 2019-2020 season. We can go with the design from 1919-1920,” Brandon Pridhan said, pulling up the mock-ups of the jersey. Aberdeen took into account the green and white, the lettering, everything. “Or should we balk the season number and go with this one, the 1926-1927 season design?” he held up the other mock-up. It was basically the exact same design, except the colours were inverted.

They were having an extremely serious and long discussion about this? Aberdeen snorted from the corner.

Suddenly, when she looked up, every eye in the room was on her. The smile immediately dropped from her face. Brendan was looking at her. “Something funny?”

Oh shit. Oh shit. Ohfuckohfuckohfuck. “No, no…” she began, trying to cover for herself. “It’s nothing – you know – it’s just that they look exactly the same to me. I…you know, I’m still learning about all this stuff.”

“This…stuff?” Brendan asked, repeating her words. The look that he gave her – she never wanted to be looked at like that again for the rest of her life. “Oh…okay. I see. You think this has nothing to do with you. You get hired by the Maple Leafs and you sit in on this meeting with, oh I don’t know, that iPad Pro which the company paid for, and you scoff because you think we’re taking this too seriously, and you don’t care about what jerseys fans put on their back. But what you don’t know is that this hockey sweater is not just blue and white, it’s not just green and white, it’s actually a symbol,” he paused, moving from his spot at the table, walking around it. “You’re also blindly unaware of the fact that in 1919 the Toronto Arenas were about to go under, only to be saved by a group of investors who renamed the team the Toronto St. Patricks, and who later made Conn Smythe their managing partner and their eventual owner. Conn Smythe ended up changing their name in 1927 to the Toronto Maple Leafs because that maple leaf was the national symbol of Canada and, as he said, a badge of courage and a reminder of home of when he was a Canadian Army officer during World War One,” he picked the design he liked most from Brandon and pinned it onto the board, taking another from the pile. Aberdeen’s heart stopped beating. “The blue and white, he said, represented the Canadian skies and Canadian snow. The name has changed, the investors have changed, and the logo has seen design changes, but that maple leaf is a symbol that represents the identity of Toronto, the history of this city, and the pride of the country. It represents millions of dollars and countless jobs, and so it’s sort of comical how you think that you ever made a choice that exempted you from caring about these jerseys when, in fact, this city’s identity and one of the most well-known national symbols were selected for you by the people in this room who ran this hockey club. All because of the influence of this stuff.”

He held onto a picture, holding it face up. She broke eye contact to look down at it, only to see it was the maple leaf that was currently on the jersey. The thirty-one points, meant to represent 1931 and the opening of Maple Leaf Gardens; the 17-vein detail, meant to represent when the franchise was founded in 1917; the 13 veins at the top, meant to represent the 13 Stanley Cup championships. She realized what this symbol meant to not only the people in this room, but to the city, to the fabric and identity of it, to its storied past and bright future. She realized the history behind it, the countless people who wore the sweater or jersey with pride for over a century now. She realized how wrong and careless she’d been.

When she looked back up, Brendan was staring at her. So was everyone else still seated at the board table, some of them with amused looks on their faces. “I’ll be outside if you need me,” she said, barely above a whisper because she was too embarrassed to even speak. She clutched her iPad Pro and took the picture, walking out of the room.

The second the door closed behind her, she burst out into tears. The tears streamed down her face as she escaped into the washroom, slamming the stall door behind her and locking it before breaking down in the bathroom stall. Brendan Shanahan had just embarrassed her in front of some of the hockey world’s most important people and she deserved it. She couldn’t believe she could be so fucking stupid and so dumb and callous and just such a…such an idiot. And now here she was, crying about it in a bathroom stall. She’d never be able to recover from this. Brendan would think she was an idiot until the day she died. He’d die before her and in heaven he’d still think her an idiot.

She stayed in the bathroom stall for a while, crying it all out and eventually stopping because she had no more energy to cry. She opened the stall door and looked at herself in the mirror, trying to wipe away the tears. Her eyes were red and of course, her cheeks were stained with tears, but she was thankful that she wore waterproof mascara that day. She tried to collect herself, even though she had just made a complete ass of herself. She still had a full day of work to do. She still had to make it until 5pm. Somehow.

When there was nothing more she could do to fix her appearance, she sighed and decided to head back to her desk, ready to face whatever punishment Brendan was going to give her when he got out of the meeting. There was nothing more she could say or do. She swung open the door to the washroom and stepped out into the hallway.

Although when she did, she crashed into a body. When she looked up, it was, of course, none other than William Nylander. Because her day couldn’t get any better from here. “Hey,” he said, smiling at her.

“What do you need?” she asked, not bothering to greet him.

He noticed the tone of her voice and the redness of her eyes and immediately changed his demeanour. “What’s wrong?”

She side-eyed him. As if he cared. “I just made a complete ass of myself in front of Brendan. No biggie,” she huffed.

“Did you get a coffee order wrong or something?”

Now she really side eyed him. She understood the stereotype of personal assistants, but this was not the time to start making jokes and devaluing her job. “What do you want? Why are you even in the offices?” she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted to see you.”

She scoffed. “Oh, get a life, William.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know why you feel the need to keep taunting me when we’re on the job, but it needs to stop,” she said. “Don’t you have drills to go through? Don’t you like, I don’t know, need to tape a stick?”

It was his turn to give her a look. “Hey, don’t be mad at me just because you screwed up at your job today. I came up here to see you because I wanted to see you. I’m trying to be nice.”

“Taunting me at my job isn’t being nice,” she said. “If you can’t tell, I’m not having a good day. So I’d appreciate it if you just…wouldn’t.”

“Whatever you did can’t be worse than sleeping with a Maple Leaf and then working for his boss,” William retorted.

Okay, now she was angry. She grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the small kitchen – the one she’d retreated to when she walked in on them in their underwear – and shut the door behind them so they could have a private conversation. “Listen to me,” she began, her voice as steady and as intimidating as it could be. “I know I’m not saving the world or anything, but this job means a lot to me. This isn’t a fucking game to me like it is to you. This is my life. This is my livelihood. This is my career prospects in any industry in Toronto if I do a good job here. And you, William Nylander, are not going to take that away from me.”

“I’m not trying to take that away from you,” William declared. “Don’t you think that if I didn’t want you here, I would have told the guys or told Brendan already?”

Aberdeen thought back to the conversation she’d had with her sister, where she brought up the exact same point. She shook her head. “Then stop with the comments. Stop with the ‘coming to see me’, flirting in front of your teammates, and the flirting in general.”

“I can’t do that,” he responded.

“Why not?” she demanded.

“Because I want you.”

The words hung in the air for an uncomfortable amount of time as William and Aberdeen stared at each other, his blue eyes piercing her hazel ones. Her jaw dropped at his words, and she tried to respond but she couldn’t think of anything to say. There was nothing to say. He just dropped a bombshell and she had no way to recover. He wanted her. He wanted her. He…wanted her? “W…What?”

William didn’t respond. He only smiled. He didn’t say anything else as he left those words with her, opening the door and leaving the kitchen, leaving her completely dumbfounded.

***

Later on that night, as Aberdeen was walking back to her condo after the day’s work (and not seeing Brendan again – probably for the best, since she was going to write out and rehearse her apology she’d tell him tomorrow if she didn’t get a call that she’d been fired tonight), her phone buzzed in her pocket. She assumed that it would be Kasha, wanting to know what they were going to do for dinner. But when she looked at her screen, it was an unknown number that texted her.

i promise im not going to tell anybody. im not going to tell any of the guys, or kyle, or brendan, or anyone what happened in june. that stays between us.

im not that guy. i wouldn’t do that to you.

She stopped dead in her tracks. A pedestrian behind her almost crashed into her and yelled at her to watch where she was going. She collected herself and moved off to the side so people could pass by her and she could read the texts over and over and over again. She didn’t even want to know how he got her number. She didn’t want to know what covert operation he pulled.

She gulped.

***

October 1st, 2019

Aberdeen was impatient in the backseat of the town car as she and Lou waited for Brendan to appear. Her leg was bobbing up and down and she was pretty sure she would have chipped all her nail polish off by now if it wasn’t shellac. She had written out and rehearsed her apology to him and knew exactly how she was going to deliver it. She knew she had to makes things right.

“Miss Bloom,” Lou said from the driver’s seat, looking at her through the rear-view mirror like he often did. “Nervous energy.”

“I’m sorry Lou,” she apologized, trying not to bob her leg. “I just need to say something to Mr. Shanahan.”

“Something bad?”

“How many apologies have you heard in this car?” she asked.

Lou chuckled. “Many, Miss Bloom.”

“How does he react to them?”

Lou shrugged. “Depends.”

She gulped. As if on cue, Brendan emerged from his house. Lou got out of the car to open the door for him.

“Good morning, Aberdeen,” he said, his voice cheery as he got into the backseat. He already had a stack of newspapers with him. He was acting as if nothing was wrong. “How are you this morning?”

“I’m…good,” she replied, confused. She decided she should just get right into it. “Mr. Shanahan, can I speak to you about something?”

“Brendan,” he corrected her like he always did. He was focused on the newspaper in front of him. “And yes, Aberdeen, you may.”

“Can you look at me?”

That caught his attention. He lowered the newspaper and took off his glasses, waiting for her to begin. She took a deep breath. “I want to sincerely apologize for my comments yesterday in the meeting,” she began. “It was really insensitive of me to scoff, and then to make that comment – just really callous, and I want to apologize. I don’t want you thinking that this job means nothing to me, because it does. It means the world—”

“Aberdeen,” Brendan interrupted her, holding up his hand. She stopped talking, and could tell he was thinking of what to say. “First of all, thank you for your apology,” he began. “What I said to you in that room, in front of everybody – I just wanted to make sure you know the importance of the work we do here.”

“I do. I mean – I do now.”

“Hockey in Toronto is not just hockey,” he began. “It’s a living, breathing entity in and of itself. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you will see the importance of not just my work, or the work of anybody else that was in the room that day, but of your work too. You are part of the Toronto Maple Leafs now, Aberdeen, whether you like it or not. You have a role to play here in the success of the team just like anybody else. Just because you’re an executive assistant, it doesn’t mean you don’t.”

“Yes sir,” she nodded her head.

“I know you have a steep learning curve to go through. I knew that when I hired you. You’ll go through it. And you’ll make a hell of a lot of mistakes along the way. But you’ll go through it. And you’ll come out better. With more knowledge. Understood?”

“Yes sir. Absolutely,” she nodded her head. Brendan sent her a quick smile before putting his glasses back on and focusing on the newspaper again. “So…I guess this means I’m not fired?” she asked, just for reassurance.

That actually got a laugh out of Brendan. “No, Aberdeen. I could never fire an Etobicoke girl.”

***

October 2nd 2019

The season opener was just pure insanity. There was no other way Aberdeen could rephrase it besides that – just pure insanity. Brendan had meetings, she had to coordinate this, she had to run for coffees, she had to go get notes from someone, the phone was ringing off the hook…Lou even had to take her in the town car up to Yorkville, to Prada and to Gucci and to Hermes, so she could pick up ties for him to wear once all the media came rushing in. It was a complete shit show. She barely had time to eat, drink, or even think because she was so busy trying to get everything done.

But something happened to her once she and Brendan made their way up to the media gondola to sit in the President’s private box with Kyle Dubas and Brandon Pridham: she watched the game. From start to finish, she watched the Toronto Maple Leafs dominate the Ottawa Senators 5-3 to win the game. She saw Auston Matthews score two goals – and William assist beautifully on one of them. It was textbook perfect. She saw the comradery of the boys on the bench. She saw Brendan and Kyle seem excited.

She remembered back to how excited the people of Newfoundland were at just a practice and an exhibition game. She saw how excited the crowd was tonight at the way the team played and the outcome of the game.

She began to get it.

She followed Brendan out of the gondola so they could head down to the locker room about five minutes before the game was going to end. When the team began to come in, she wondered if she should clap – her questions were answered when she saw the equipment personnel fist-bump the boys. She held out her hand to show her support. Brendan laughed.

“Wooooo! Let’s go baby!” Auston screamed as he looked directly at her, fist-bumping her with his enormously large hockey glove. In that moment, she was sure one of them was going to knock her over one day.

“Good job boys!” she yelled out as they trickled in. John was next, giving her a fist-bump and a quick nod.

Morgan saw her and screamed at her. “Wooooo!”

“Wooooo!” she mimicked, smiling from ear to ear as she fist-bumped him. She held her hand out for Andreas, for Kasperi, and for Sandin. William filtered through, and when she caught his eye, a large smile appeared on his face. “Good job boys!” she yelled out again as they fist-pumped.

As they boys filtered into the locker room and began to take off their gear, Brendan walked in, motioning for Aberdeen to follow him. She stood behind him and Kyle Dubas as they watched Mike Babcock make his post-game speech and present the team with one of the Raptors’ game used balls from their championship run. One player would get it after every game won. Auston got it tonight for scoring two goals, and he did a few tricks.

Aberdeen helped usher Mike into a separate room so he could do post-game media before they went into the locker room. She watched as a horde of reporters stuck microphones into his face and asked him questions about the game. When Brendan called her back into the locker room, he told her he was free to go.

She looked up at one of the TV monitors that was broadcasting Mike’s interview from the other room live, wanting to hear what good things he had to say before she left. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw William approach her, the bottom half of his gear still on, chucking something into the garbage. He stood beside her, looking up at the monitor too to listen in.

“Can you speak to Matthews’s goals tonight? The assist from Nylander must have looked good on your end,” one of the reporters asked.

“Yeah, the goals were good. Looked really good. The assist looked better than the one’s from last season, that’s for sure – he’s clearly been practicing,” Mike began.

Aberdeen didn’t hear anything else he had to say as she furrowed her brows. She knew that she didn’t know anything about hockey, but she thought the team played fantastic tonight. They won, for heaven’s sake. If she was a casual viewer and thought they played well, and that William’s assist on Auston’s goal looked incredible, that had to speak for something, right? A person who wasn’t even a fan being impressed? She didn’t know. But when she looked over at William, she saw a defeated look on his face. He clearly took the comments to heart, and it killed her to see his excitement die down over a stupid comment.

“Does he always give you backhanded compliments?” she asked quietly, looking at him.

William noticed her looking, and gave her one of those tight-lipped smiles as he shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it.”

Aberdeen didn’t like that answer.

#william nylander #william nylander imagine #william nylander fic #william nylander fan fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs fan fic #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fan fic #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fan fic #the president wears prada series

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disappearinginq · 4 years

Note

for the writers ask thing: (3) What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway) AND (6) What character do you have the most fun writing?

Hilariously, the first one is a Prodigal Son scene between the team (specifically JT) and I just wanted a...merger? scene between beginning season JT & Malcolm, where they just like to harass one another, to basically an embodiment of the Kink!Tomato explanation. I like that they’re not cozy with each other, but they go from purposefully hurtful banter to just off beat teasing, and I had a scene where that was spelled out. I wonder if I can find it...or possibly actually getting around to writing the fic that i wrote three lines of dialogue for when @rohanrider3 gave me a prompt for it. As for most fun -ooo. Hmm. Snarky ones. And family relations. I think one of my favorite things to write was between Bellamy and Kane for Left Behind, despite not watching the show for years now, and that fic sits languishing in writing purgatory.

And I really, really love to write unexpectedly smart/badass characters (or make canon characters into unexpectedly smart/badass characters, because no one can prove I’m wrong). Edit: FOUND THE PRODIGAL SON THING.

“No, JT, really, I want to know,” Malcolm snapped, holding his hand out – steadier than JT could remember ever seeing it – jabbing accusatorily at him. “What exactly was I supposed to do? Hmm? If you know, I’d love to hear it, because I haven’t got a fucking clue. I’m a bit of an outlier, you see – people aren’t good with things they can’t categorize. They want to stuff you in a box whether you fit or not, and I’m guessing as a Hispanic male combat veteran, there’s a couple boxes people like to tick off for you, right? Suicidal. PTSD. Temper problems. Into drugs and alcohol. Anyone ever tell you you’re a ticking time bomb, just waiting to go off?”

JT didn’t answer – it was rhetorical and both of them knew it. Veterans today had a rate of suicide comparable to WWII, and instead of trying to curb the trend by digging deeper to find out why, Washington just swept it under the rug – denied treatment, refused disability claims, shoved people out on the street like Monday morning garbage. The only time people cared enough to even Google the statistics were November 11th and the last Monday in May.

“Oh look,” Malcolm barreled on. “Finally, something we have in common. We don’t like it when people try to shove us in boxes to make us something we’re not. But you know what? You’re at least not alone. You can feel it, and it can seem it, but you’re not – one point three million people in our military, odds are at least one of them feels like you. Can understand what you’ve been through, why you are the way you are. Wanna know how many serial killers had kids? Huh?”

Malcolm’s pointed finger became a splay of five.

“Five. In the last half century, with their kids still alive today – five. Six kids total. Ted Bundy’s daughter has vanished so completely not even the FBI knows who or where she is. Dennis Rader’s kids? His daughter fucking wrote him a letter forgiving him for what he did and that she ‘hoped to see him in Heaven one day’ and that she still loved him, and her brother told the newspapers that despite killing ten people in utterly horrific ways, he was a good dad. And nobody comes close to the Surgeon’s body count – maybe the ones he was convicted for, but not what he’s suspected of.”

“Look, Bright, I – ” JT tried to cut in. Bright’s glare stopped him midsentence.

“No, no, no, no, you don’t get to derail this train now,” Malcolm snapped. “Not when you’re the one who keeps looking at me like I’m only one conviction away from being Martin Whitly’s sequel because I’m good at my job. And you know what, literally anyone else who is a profiler, or a criminal psychologist, or even a forensic psychologist is supposed to try and interpret the criminal mind, but I don’t see you avoiding Dr. Tanaka. My father was the monster, not me. I was fucking ten years old when I turned him in. All the other Serial Killer Kids were adults when the police found out their fathers were killers, but I don’t see the FBI keeping tabs on them, waiting for them to pick up where Dear Old Dad left off. So why me? Because I annoy you? Because it bothers you that because I can’t solve my own problems, I try to solve others? I have twenty three lives that were cut short because of the Surgeon that I have to make up for, and yeah, there’s only so many ways I can atone for my father’s sins.”

JT wasn’t the only one who noticed the change in Malcolm’s voice as he almost choked on the word father in relation to Martin, his already pale features turning slightly green at the mention of being related to the Surgeon.

“Since you seem to have all the answers, why don’t you clue the rest of us in? Hmm?” Malcolm threw his hands wide to encompass the whole room. “What should I be doing that would make you believe that I am not my father’s son?”

Dani shifted in her chair, looking like she’d rather be anywhere but here, but gave him a side-eyed glare that clearly stated she was actually on Bright’s side for this one. Gil hadn’t said a word the entire argument, but then, if he’d known Malcolm since the day he’d turned in Martin, then he’d probably heard it more than once.

Malcolm must’ve said it more than once, because that was a lot of statistics to rattle off that fast.

JT sighed, picking up a pen and tapping it against the notepad just to have something to do with his hands as he met Malcolm’s eyes.

“It’s not what you think,” JT said. “It…” he considered his next words, weighing the sound of them in his head before he said them aloud. “I think you’re so good at this, it’s killing you.”

Whatever response Malcolm had braced himself for – because that’s exactly what he was doing, keeping his hands firmly over his chest, hunching slightly like he was expecting a physical blow – that wasn’t it. The kid’s eyebrows almost shot into his hairline before they narrowed back in suspicion, and JT couldn’t really blame him.

“I knew these guys – combat guys, all of them. Saw some serious shit over in Syria. Afghanistan. Iraq. You name the shit storm, they were in it, boots on the ground. They didn’t fare much better than you. Nightmares. Depression. The twitchy hands. The mania. The insomnia. Insisting they were fine.” He absently let the pen in his hand doodle across the notepad, and he watched as Malcolm’s gaze couldn’t help but flicker towards the movement more than keep JT’s gaze. “Hyper vigilant. Some of them saw counselors, but you know how that goes…seeing them doesn’t mean they followed their advice. Sometimes it’s just a band aid on a bullet hole. A couple of them got jobs where they thought they could do some good – use those skills, those…habits, at work. Thought it gave them an edge. Kept them vigilant.”

JT clicked the pen, putting it down as he leaned forwards, his elbows on the table, interlocking his fingers as he caught Malcolm’s piercing gaze. “It burned them out. One put a gun in his mouth Christmas Eve in his basement while his kids were asleep upstairs. The other one stepped in front of train during the morning commute. The other one gave himself a heart attack – he’s the one that lived. And you may not believe me, Bright, but I don’t want that to be you on the evening news. You may be good at this job, but I think it’s bad for you. Trying to make up for things you had no control over, keeping some tally in that head of yours of if the life you saved is equal to the one he took. That’s not healthy, and if your stupid habit of haring off after murderers without backup doesn’t kill you, then this life will. I don’t think you’re anything like the Surgeon, because if you were, this wouldn’t bother you at all, instead of eating you alive from the inside out.”

The room was quiet enough you could hear a pin drop.

Dani shot him her half smile reserved for special occasions and people she particularly approved of. Gil’s expression was still hidden by his hand over his mouth, but JT realized he wasn’t looking at him – probably hadn’t been for most of the conversation.

He was watching Malcolm.

Malcolm who was completely silent.

He didn’t think Bright did silent. He pretty much non-stop jabbered on, even when he wasn’t supposed to. Perhaps even especially when he wasn’t supposed to.

And now that piercing blue stare was levelled straight at him, and JT fought the urge to fidget under the intensity of it.

Malcolm’s eyes widened slightly, a funny little gasp that would’ve made more sense coming from someone who’d just had ice water dumped down their back passing between suddenly parted lips as he pulled his head back as if physically slapped. “You’re…not lying.”

JT frowned, glancing over at Gil who was still zeroed in on Malcolm. The older man hadn’t decided if this was good or bad, which put JT even more on edge.

“No, I’m not lying. Why would I lie about something like that?” He tried to catch Gil’s attention without getting even more of Malcolm’s, but the older detective ignored him.

#asks answered #games we play #prodigal son #prodigal son fic #sort of #one day maybe #malcolm bright #jt tarmel

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years

Text

El Amor Todo Lo Puede Chapter 42: Teamwork

Source: @rawresparza

Chapters 1-40 Chapter 41

The guy had been weaving his contorted way through every questioning technique they’d tried on him. None of them had been able to build rapport with him. Threats, promises, and intimidation didn’t work. Role-playing had failed entirely because he’d seen through it instantly. He was intuitive in the extreme; he could spot a weakness or sore spot instantly from the slightest clue. Once he did, he would use it to slash at the person so that, rather than continuing to press the questioning, they would recoil to defend themselves. It was classic manipulative narcissist behavior, and the squad had been watching him do it successfully for over six hours. Nothing was working with him. They were all tired, seriously pissed off at him, and frustrated.

The worst part was that they knew he was enjoying the game. He hadn’t asked for a lawyer because any lawyer would have ended the interrogation, and he wasn’t done sporting with them yet. But they could not stop. If they let him go, it was entirely likely that they’d never get a hold of him again, and a dead certainty that he would go back to victimizing pretty much every woman who had the misfortune of meeting him. They couldn’t arrest him without more evidence, so they had to keep him talking in the interrogation room.

Olivia and Carisi shuffled out of the interrogation room, drained and stymied.

“That asswipe is not gonna give it up,” Carisi griped. “I say we just toss him out the window, tell the brass he escaped.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Olivia sighed. “I couldn’t take one more minute in there with that slime.”

“What’s left to try?” Fin asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe we need to just give up trying to get him to say anything we can use. Get him the old-fashioned way, with physical evidence.”

“Abrams doesn’t leave physical evidence. That’s the problem,” Rafael noted.

“Let’s not give up just yet,” Laura said. “We’ve been watching this creep for six hours now, and his moves are starting to get predictable. Plus, you’ve been taking turns with him. He’s been in there the whole time. He’s gotta be more tired than we are.”

“I just don’t think we’re gonna get anything out of him,” Olivia said. “We’ve tried everything.”

Rafael looked at Benson, his head tilted slightly, a nasty smirk suddenly appearing on his face. There was a definite wicked gleam in his eye. “Not everything.”

He turned to Laura. “Wanna have some fun?”

Simply based upon sly, sexy look on his face, Laura would have agreed to absolutely anything. “What are you thinking?”

“Just follow me.”

He opened the interrogation room door and waved her in.

“Mr. Abrams, I’m Detective Parker, this is Assistant District Attorney Barba.” They sat down on the other side of the table facing the handsome, well-groomed blond.

“Oh. Conceding defeat, huh? The game is lost, so they’re sending in the benchwarmers to get a little practice since they can’t do any harm?”

Rafael raised an eyebrow and directed his words to Laura. “Clearly doesn’t know baseball or business. Not familiar with the concept of a closer.”

Abrams sneered. “Parker. Laura Parker. Formerly of the Chicago PD. Been with the NYPD just two years.”

Rafael shrugged. “On the plus side, he knows how to use Google.”

“You see a computer in here? Have I had time to look you up since you walked in here?”

Laura, quickly picking up on Rafael’s game, shrugged and leaned insolently back in her chair. “You didn’t have to, you transparent twat. You’ve been committing sex crimes in New York for, what, ten years? Any moron who makes a habit of that would have looked to see who might be coming after him.”

Rafael made a note on his legal pad. “Not as smart as they said he was.”

“You guys fucking?” Abrams asked.

“Also not that creative,” Laura said to Rafael.

“Stupid cunt,” Abrams sighed.

“As I said…” Laura gestured to Rafael at the predictability of the insult before turning to Abrams. “You people. You all think you’re so special.”

“’You people’?”

Rafael shrugged. “Manipulators. You think because you could bamboozle some housewife in Queens, you’re Rasputin. You’re like the fourth one this week for us, so don’t take it personally if we’re not impressed.”

The slightest ripple of irritation crossed Abrams’s features. “You’re the A.D.A., huh? Are you here to offer me a deal?”

Rafael sat immobile. “No,” he said, his face and voice entirely neutral.

Abrams skipped a beat. Not much to grab onto with someone who didn’t speak. “Hey, man, that’s a hell of a suit. Etro?”

Again, Rafael simply said in a flat voice, “No.”

“So you watch the obituaries and find yourself a young widow. You Google her, follow her around for a while, figure out your approach, and go after her,” Laura tried.

Rafael stepped in before Abrams could respond. “Yawn. Teenagers do that every day to get prom dates.”

Laura continued. “You bleed her dry, then dump her.”

“Been done by every bleached blonde with fake tits ever,” Rafael sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“She threatens to go to the cops, you stage a break-in, rape and kill her.”

“The plot of every bargain bin mystery novel since Adam. Exact same story with Michelle Trujillo, Myra Simpkins, and three other women. What, exactly, is supposed to be so special about you?”

Abrams didn’t like the way there were two conversations going on, one of which was about him but didn’t involve him. And he definitely didn’t like the attitude of these new assholes. “Well, obviously they thought I was special, they couldn’t get enough of me. They wanted to show their appreciation so they gave me gifts. Want me to show you what’s special about me?” He leered at Laura.

“To quote my friend here, no.” She answered.

“So what exactly makes a snotty little bitch like you want to work sex crimes? You a prude? Can’t stand the idea of anyone having a good time while you’re home with your cats?” He squinted at her and leaned across the table, getting closer to Laura as he spoke. “Actually, no. That’s not it. I think it’s the opposite. You get a front row seat to the sickest shit people can do to each other, and you get off on it. Tell me something, did you see those disgusting pictures your friends were waving around earlier? Do you email yourself copies of those kinds of pictures so you can enjoy them later, when you’re all alone?”

“Bored now,” Laura said flatly.

Abrams made a disturbingly lewd gesture.

Rafael asked the next question without either of them reacting to what Abrams had done. “Where’s the money?”

“What money?”

“Ah.” She looked at Rafael, as though Abrams’ question had spoken unintended volumes. “It’s gone. Spent it all.”

“Not all,” Rafael disagreed, as though contemplating the ways a fool like this could squander money. “Maybe spent half on clothes, and lost the rest gambling.”

“I’m thinking he spent a fair amount on hair products,” she replied, the angle of her gaze making it clear that she was talking to Rafael.

Abrams fumed, the superiority and amusement in their faces and voices having exactly the intended effect. He was really starting not to like the snarky conversation about him taking place as though he wasn’t there.

Rafael turned to Abrams. “You better have another housewife lined up, then.”

“Poughkeepsie this time?” Laura suggested. “You could probably find someone naïve and desperate enough to buy – “ she raised her hand up and down to indicate him. “What you’re selling.”

Rafael and Laura could both see Abrams’ anger. He turned to Rafael to give himself a moment to regroup. “She’s a piece of work. Got a mouth on her. You have to work with her all the time? You better keep that mouth busy, brother. If I had to listen to that every day, I’d…”

“Stage a break-in, rape and kill her. We know,” Rafael finished for him, rolling his eyes in disdain as only Rafael could.

“You know, I was right about you,” Abrams put an arrogant smirk on his face as he crossed his arms. Only the tightness of his posture belied the crumbling control behind his fake contempt. “You really are the practice team, aren’t you? Your friends at least tried to get me to talk. You’re not even doing that. Lemme guess, you just here to make it look like the NYPD hasn’t given up. You’re pathetic. This isn’t even fun anymore, I think I’m losing IQ points just from being in the room with you.”

Laura and Rafael both knew they had him at that point. His insults had been much subtler and more pointedly specific earlier in the day. Laura put her elbow on the table and rested her head on it listlessly. Rafael began to doodle on his legal pad.

“You really are a hopeless dyke. Why don’t you get on your knees and at least make yourself useful? Even you oughtta be able to follow some simple directions. C’mon, get over here and suck me, then this day won’t be a total loss. Maybe I’ll even bend you over this table and treat you to an ass-fucking you won’t –“

Laura rolled her eyes, sat back in her chair, and began to pantomime male masturbation with a disinterested expression. Fortunately, that pushed Abrams over the edge because Rafael couldn’t hide his shocked amusement at seeing her make such an unexpected and vulgar gesture.

Abrams lunged across the table at her. “You fucking cunt! I’ll gut you, bitch! I’ll show you what a man can do – “

As he reached for her throat, as she’d expected him to, she took one of his wrists in both her hands and came around the table as she twisted his arm up behind him. She kept his arm in one hand and used the other to push his head down on the table. Rafael had expected him to snap, as well, so he simply stood up to make sure he could react if necessary.

“Yeah?” Laura sneered in Abrams’ ear. “What man? All I see is you. No wonder you have to go after lonely widows in the ‘burbs.”

He reared back, throwing her off-balance and backward, which gave him the opportunity to whip around and grab her by the throat. He didn’t see her motion behind him for Rafael not to interfere. “You’ll be begging me to kill you when I’m done with you!”

Laura clasped her hands together and, with the strength of both arms, drove her elbow under his chin, surprising and momentarily stunning him. As she expected, he was so enraged that he let go of her throat so she could gulp some air, and drew an arm back to punch her. He was big and very strong, but that only meant she was much faster than he was. She simply moved aside so that he drove his fist full-force into the grating over the window. He roared with pain and fury, and began blindly swinging. He did catch her on the side of the head, but due to the angle of the blow, it had nowhere near the power he was capable of.

“This is it? How the hell did you kill those women when you’re this weak and slow?”

She let him grab her around the waist and wrestle her to the floor. “I’ll tell you how, bitch, those broads had no idea who they were dealing with. They were all, ‘oh, Neil, what are you doing, don’t hurt me!’ I didn’t even have to tie them up – just fucked the brainless cows while they whined about how they loved me. I had my knife in them before they even realized it was really happening! You, now, you’re gonna be more fun, you got a little fight in –“

At that moment, having baited him into confessing, Laura relaxed her arms and legs. She had been holding them spread just enough that he would think he had her in a firm grip. When she relaxed them, she had a split second to twist violently to one side, putting her in the perfect position to knee him solidly in the groin. It was over at that point, although Fin and Olivia burst into the room.

Laura crab-walked out off the way until her back rested against the wall, catching her breath and watching Fin cuff and arrest Abrams. He was still spewing vile threats, but no one was paying much attention. Fin escorted him from the room to be booked, a tired but amused grin on his face.

Olivia crouched down to check on Laura. Rafael stood behind him, concerned but fairly confident she was not badly hurt.

“You OK?”

“Of course.”

“Nice job,” Olivia said.

“Not really. You knew he had to be tired. All we did was poke him until he went off.”

Rafael smirked. “Anytime you need to piss someone off, Parker’s your girl.”

Laura laughed out loud as Olivia helped her to her feet.

“I wouldn’t take bets on the outcome of a contest between you and me in that area, if I were you.”

For the first time in four months, Rafael and Laura stood simply smiling at one another.

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #rafael barba #raul esparza #chicago pd #chicago fire #chicago med #fin tutuola #olivia benson #sonny carisi

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houseofcardsofficialrp-blog · 5 years

Text

Confined in a Cage || Tsubomi || Trial 2.3 || RE: Everybody, mostly Buckles || ATTN: Holly, Mallory, Shinji, Katja

"Well a mighty fine 'fuck you' to you too, Alan. I'll have you fucking know I realized it about 10 minutes after we left, bastard, when we went into the gardening shed and it hit me that soil was missing. We just waited to go back so we could fucking prioritize places no one else had reached yet. I bet you didn't get any shit in the main building, huh? I did. Anyway, something spring-loaded like that doesn't need a battery. The tension just lets go and springs out once it's open. That's how that shit works, genius. As far as the hole in the yellow rose bush goes, I'm leaning towards that being a test run. The hole in that hedge was actually mostly cleanly cut with hedge clippers, so it was either a test run or a distraction, yeah. The hole was too big to not be noticed by someone passing by, and there wasn't an additional peek hole cut in."

The good ol' fuck you and one-upping. This could go all trial if they let it. It partially genuinely pissed her off, but the other part of her felt triumphant on each of her points so... there was a bit of a game forming there. At least it was a, uh... productive game, even if it was fluffed out with the insults. She definitely felt like she was winning, too.

She strutted back to her own podium and lightly patted Choko on her shoulder. That was helpful, actually. Tsubomi flashed a tiny smiled in thanks.

"Mmm, well, you're missing a few, Buckles. Lily confirmed that Nobu and Akihisa were in their room shortly after Lily got the notification that she was the new ace, and Akihisa was also with Lily and I when we went in to find Yuudai's body, and was with us when that additional dot disappeared, it seems. Whiiiich actually is now the best defense for myself, too. And I have no fucking clue why anyone would cover for Nobu with what a piece of motherfucking garbage he is."

"I also cleared Yui already. Helloise is the red-haired maid Choko mentioned, so there's a clear, too. And, well, uh... I know I'm not doing anyone any favors, but Holly's not allowed to help us and confirm Colby's alibi, as far as I know, so that one is... dubious, I guess. I absolutely don't suspect Colby but I'm going to put all the shit on the table regardless. Unless Holly IS allowed to confirm that and can speak up? But that leaves us with Colby and Mallory without solid alibis, and Shinji with nothing. I'm also going to point out since it's topical but, Buckles and Katja were alone as a duo and are friends without a third person to back them up. All the other duo alibis aren't particularly friends, yeah? If we go into heights, that literally just leaves us with Katja, Mallory, and Shinji. Which brings me to my next point."

Tsubomi flipped open the notebooks she brought along with her and spread them out, then held up a slip of paper that was a smidgeon torn. The text was clearly in English.

Dear Nobu, I’ve discovered something I need to tell you about, but I can’t risk someone overhearing. You’re the only one I trust with this because of how smart you are. Meet me in front of the center gate at 11:30 am. I have the key for it. From, Akihisa.

She moved along to the full notepads and placed the note on top of one.

"The peacock stole this thing here, a note addressed to Nobu on meeting up at the murder scene at the time of the murder. It's signed from Akihisa but there's quite a few reasons I think it's not from him and that that's fucking stupid. For one, Akihisa's English isn't great, and for another, Akihisa and Nobu are already roommates so a note is fucking stupid. The handwriting is also particularly neat. However, it obviously isn't addressed to Yuudai, so somehow there was a victim switcherooni. I didn't manage to get into everyone's notebooks in their rooms, but the paper matches the complementary notebooks. The ones I did get are from Sylvia and Yuudai's room, Alan and Shinji's room, Katja and Mallory's room, and my own."

She lifted each notepad as she narrated her thoughts, putting them on display for the trial to see.

"Yuudai's has some doodles and dates on them, but there wasn't enough actual writing to get a handwriting sample from. There aren't any pages missing from it. Katja and Mallory's has some writing on them from Katja, with handwriting that doesn't match, and multiple pages missing. There were, however, paper airplanes folded so that accounts for some of those pages, at least.The one from my room hasn't been touched at all, since I have my own personal notepad, with handwriting in it you can check that doesn't match. The one in Alan and Shinji's room has some Japanese writing in it so I can't quite compare handwriting there, either. It's also missing a few pages. You guys can come over and take a closer look if you need to. Anyway, that puts Mallory and Shinji in worse positions, and helps Katja's case a little."

She sighed to herself. It was the time to bring this stuff out, really. It didn't put the nail in the coffin for anyone yet, but she figured it was strong enough information to kickstart the trial into a phase 2.

#Tsubomi #chapter 2 #trial 2 #submission

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