#I swear it looks so much cleaner in person maybe I need a better camera

[liesofserendipity]

I normally don't post traditional art online since a) I tend to struggle with the colouring process and b) somehow it never shows up well on camera but I ended up liking this one a fair amount & I crave validation so it gets a pass.

There's no theme here, I just ran with whatever I felt like drawing and added in some anatomy and perspective techniques I've been working on. I'm so happy to see the practice paying off!

Good luck to anyone else also going through their art journey :)

[pogokitten]

Lost and Found

By @pogokitten for @lost-lunar-wolf

Rating: Teen (for swears)

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan, Ben Parker, May Parker

Summary: People lose things all the time, keys, toys, favorite socks. It happens, it’s just a part of life. But sometimes these lost items make their way to soulmates. It’s phenomena as old as civilization itself. You lose your favorite hair tie and poof, it just appears near your soulmate for them to find and eventually return. Romantic or Platonic, it’s expected that everyone stumbles over some of their soulmates' lost items here and there. Some people just end up waiting longer than others.  

Or: The platonic soulmate AU where Tony and Peter find and hold onto a lot of each other’s stuff over the years.

Tony is speed walking through his mansion the first time it happens. He’s not paying attention, tie barely on straight and coffee almost sloshing out of his cup as he rushes for the door. He’s late for a meeting and usually he wouldn’t care, but Obie has been up his ass about this one. Something about a grouchy general that thinks Stark Industries weapons are overpriced and overhyped needing convincing.

So when Tony stumbles on something caught under his dress shoes, he finds himself cursing colorfully as splashes of coffee dot the marble floor. He glares down at the offending object when he has his footing, fully expecting it to be a tool or something that migrated out of the workshop.

The engineer stops short and stares however, when he takes in the soft blue baby binky on his floor.

Tony is no stranger to having strange things in his house, being an eccentric billionaire and all, but he has absolutely no clue how a pacifier of all things has ended up on his floor.  

Tony scoops the binkie off the floor examining it, completely baffled.

It looks new if the bright color and barely chewed appearance is anything to go by. Tony wracks his brain for any possible reason a pacifier could have made its way into his home. This wasn’t a week for the cleaners so it wouldn’t be something of theirs, and the only other people who have been in his house since yesterday were Happy and Pepper.

The engineer knows Happy himself is allergic to children, but doesn’t he have a sister or something? Does she have a kid? Maybe it got mixed up in Happy’s things? It’s not the most plausible explanation.

As for Pepper, Tony’s pretty fucking sure she doesn’t have a kid. He knows from her comments that she doesn’t have much in the way of family anymore and that she’s single. Maybe one of her college friends has kids? Could one of their kid’s binkies have ended up in her purse during a visit or something?

The theory’s not great, but that’s at least more believable than Happy being the culprit, and for the life of him, Tony doesn’t know where else the thing would have come from.

Tony stuffs the pacifier into his pocket and continues out the door resolving to ask Pepper about it later.

---

Tony never ends up asking Pepper about the binky.

He came home from an extremely long day at the office spent schmoozing the stuffy general and tossed the thing out of his pocket along with his keys onto a cluttered table in the workshop. He then proceeded to drink the night away to dull the built up tension. When JARVIS wakes him up the next morning, the pacifier is a distant memory due to his ragging hangover and Obie calling to talk business.

It’s not until a few months later that the binky even crosses Tony’s mind again.

It’s another typical day in the life of a party addicted billionaire genius, when Pepper pages him through JARVIS to help her into the house. Tony finally emerges from his lab for the first time that day, muttering equations under his breath. He’s lost in his own head, still focused on the designs he’s been hammering out downstairs.

So Tony nearly falls on his ass when he steps onto something that slides under his feet in the entryway. The engineer is quick to catch himself, heart still racing from the near drop, and looks around irritably for damn banana peel or whatever it was that almost killed him.

He quickly spots what looks like a scrap of fabric nearby. Grumbling, Tony snatches it off the floor and realizes it's not a pocket square or a tie like he thought.

No, it’s a lovey.

He gapes at the toy with wide eyes.

The blanket bit of the toy is a soft yellow fabric, the stuffed animal portion a smiling dog with floppy ears. It’s a bit love worn and could probably use a wash, but it doesn’t seem especially old.

It also absolutely shouldn’t be here.

No one else has been in the mansion for the last two days except for him, and Tony knows the lovey wasn’t there this morning.

“JARVIS, did someone break into the house to leave baby toys for me to trip on, and you just neglected to tell me?” Tony asks.

“Of course not, sir,” the AI says, sounding almost offended, “No one has been inside of the mansion aside from yourself and I would have alerted you to a perimeter breach.”

“Then how is this here?” Tony questions, holding the toy up to the nearest camera.

“It simply appeared in the foyer, sir,” JARVIS tells him.

“That’s impossible, things don’t just appear.”  

“It is possible, sir. I thought it would be obvious,” the AI refutes, a hint of a smirk in his tone.  

Tony rolls his eyes. “Not in the mood right now, J.”

“I believe that your soulmate has lost both the toy in your hand and the pacifier you found approximately three months ago,” JARVIS explains.

Any sort of snappy retort dies in Tony’s throat and he snaps his gaze back to the lovey he’s holding.

Soulmates were not something that Tony Stark had thought about often in the past two decades of his life.

Growing up he’d been as intrigued by soulmates as any child his age, waiting to find mysterious clothes or toys like many of his peers. He’d waited and hoped and looked for years, anything to ease the loneliness of the Stark Mansion. Only to find himself at the age of fifteen without a single lost and found object to his name. That had been when he started to doubt, when he stopped looking for items that weren’t his and steered away from conversations about soulmates.

It’s not unheard of to not have a soulmate until adolescence and beyond, but after he hit twenty-one, Tony had concluded that the cosmos hadn’t bothered to give him one. That, or his soulmate had died before they’d had anything to lose besides their life.

He is well past the age where he would have gotten a romantic soulmate bond, but a platonic or familial one…

It’s pretty common knowledge that a lot of parents and children share a familial soulmate bond, and it’s not like Tony is the most...celibate...person in the world. He’s been careful about his fun, but could it have happened? Or was this some random kid who had gotten stuck with Tony Stark as their ‘shared soul’ by the misfortune of fate?

Tony stares at the lovey in shock while his thoughts race for a long enough amount of time that Pepper irritably rings the doorbell again. Still practically in a trance, Tony opens the door for her on autopilot.

Pepper bustles into the mansion carrying several packages of mail and one of his freshly dry cleaned suits, strands of her vibrant hair escaping the usually tidy bun they’re usually pinned up in.

“Finally! I’ve been standing out there holding all these boxes for ages! Really, Mr. Stark what in the world did you order that’s so-?”

“Pep…” Tony manages to choke out, the nickname and his tone catching her attention.

His PA puts the mail and dry cleaning on a side table and turns back to him, concern on her face.

“Mr. Stark?” she asks.

With a slightly trembling hand he holds the lovey out to her. “I… I found this. And a binky a while ago. I’ve got… I’ve got a soulmate.”

“Oh… Mr. Stark-” Pepper’s mouth opens in shock as she takes in the toy, before her eyes crinkle in a smile, “Tony, that’s wonderful.”

“God look at this thing,” Tony chuckles, and to his slight horror, it’s a bit of a wet sound, “Between this and the binky, the kid can’t be more than half a year, huh?”

“I’d say so.” Pepper says smiling down at the little plush toy.

Tony swallows. “Do you think he’s mine?”

His PA looks back up at him, eyebrow raised slightly. “He?”

“Just a feeling.”

“A feeling, huh?” Pepper smiles, “Well he is yours. Your soulmate. It doesn’t matter if this child is yours biologically, because you’re going to care about them either way right?”

Tony nods, unable to voice any of his vulnerable thoughts. Too many emotions are still swirling inside, crowding his mind.

“Besides I don’t think he’s blood related to you,” Pepper tells him.

“How do you know?” Tony asks.

She gives him a bit of smirk. “Just a feeling.”

Tony gives a little laugh, giving her a grin in return. But eventually he looks back at the toy in his hands and feels it slip off his face. In his bones, he already knows that the bond he and his soulmate will have is going to be a familial extension of a platonic soulmate bond. Or more accurately, a paternal one. And that absolutely scares the shit out of Tony.

“What’s wrong?” Pepper questions, peering down at his whitening knuckles.

“Even if he’s not mine by blood, I don’t want to be like my dad,” Tony confesses in a rush, “I can’t keep the cycle going… I-”

“You won’t,” Pepper cuts him off, “The fact that you’re worried about that at all is proof enough that you care, and that you want to be better than Howard. So you will be.”  

Tony doesn’t say anything to that, gaze dropping back to the lovey in his hands. He wants to be better than his father, but can he be? He’s been following in Howard Stark’s promiscuous alcoholic shadow for a long time now. But he owes it to this kid, and Pepper, and hell, even himself to try and be better.

Pepper eventually clears her throat. “Will that be all Mr. Stark?”

Tony gives her a genuine smile, the kind that is reserved only for the few people he trusts and cares for. “That will be all Ms.Potts.”

***

Peter sits on the couch in his aunt and uncle’s apartment pouting. The adults are standing near the doorway, talking. Sure he loves Aunt May and Uncle Ben, but he loves his Mommy and Daddy more, and they’ve been going on trips so much lately. They just went on a trip a few weeks ago and now they’re going on another one. And this one is so far away.

“We should probably head out. Thanks so much for looking after Pete this week,” Peter hears his dad say.

“Of course, we love having Peter,” May tells him.

“Don’t go!” Peter jumps up from the couch and tackles his mom’s leg.

“It’s not for long sweetheart,” she soothes, brushing his hair back, “Daddy and I have to go to a few boring meetings. You’ll have more fun here with Uncle Ben and Aunt May.”

“But I’ll miss you!” Peter whines.

“And we’ll miss you kiddo, but we’ll be back before you know it,” his dad says, kneeling down to hug him.

Then his dad picks him up so his mom can hug them too. Peter likes it when they all hug like that, it makes him feel warm and super safe.

“Love you. Bye-bye,” Peter mumbles into the embrace sadly.  

He knows by now that no amount of begging will get them to stay, but that doesn’t stop him from trying at least a little bit every time.

His mom kisses his forehead. “And we love you Peter.”

Peter’s parents set him down and hug his aunt and uncle before they step out of the apartment and are gone. Peter’s eyes feel hot, but he doesn’t want to cry. He’s six, so he’s almost big now. Mommy said it was okay to cry no matter how old you are, but most of the other boys at school just make fun of Peter for it.

Aunt May cards her fingers through his hair. “Why don’t you go get settled, sweetie. Then we’ll all go to the park so you can play and feed the birds?”

Peter nods, subdued, and shuffles to the small guest room with his backpack and suitcase.

He sniffs back tears while he makes quick work of his suitcase, throwing his clothes haphazardly into the dresser, but takes much more care with his backpack.

Peter unzips it, double checking that all of his prized possessions are there. His dumb inhaler that he has to carry everywhere, check. His GameBoy and the handful of games he has, check. Toebeans, his stuffed snow leopard, check. His three favorite action figures at the moment, check. And… Peter panics for a moment before he feels his hand close around cold metal.

With a sigh of relief, Peter pulls the tool from his bag.

The screwdriver is small, the perfect size for Peter’s little hands. It’s old and its red handle is worn. Uncle Ben told him it’s for putting together small delicate things since it’s way too small for normal sized screws. Daddy said the screwdriver had turned up in Peter’s crib when he was just a few weeks old. He had explained that it belonged to Peter’s soulmate and that they must have lost it.

Peter’s soulmate must usually be good about not losing things though, since Peter hasn’t found that much stuff. So far it’s just been things like nuts and bolts or a couple of pretty neckties. Peter’s pretty sure his soulmate must be a grown up, since they never seem to lose fun stuff, like toys. Ned’s soulmate always loses toys, like My Little Pony dolls and plastic dinosaurs.  

Still Peter keeps all the things he finds, even if they’re usually kinda boring. Uncle Ben and Daddy always say it’s important to return lost items, and there’s no way Peter would ever be mean to his soulmate. Especially when holding his soulmate's screwdriver makes him feel better whenever he’s sad. It’s familiar and it makes him feel safe, like his parents’ hugs.

Staring down at the screwdriver, Peter wonders what lost stuff his soulmate has from him.

...Maybe they’ve got that bouncy ball he lost two weeks ago? It was a really good one. He hopes they have fun with it.

Still Peter can’t wait to meet his soulmate, even if they are old. Mommy told him to be patient, but Peter’s never really been the best at that. Daddy said they would meet when the time was right and he and his soulmate needed each other most. Whatever that means.

“Peter! Come on, let’s hit the park!” His uncle calls.

The boy quickly puts the screwdriver back and zips his bag closed, swinging it onto his shoulders. “Coming, Uncle Ben!”

His aunt and uncle lead him from the apartment, his little hand clasped in his uncle’s calloused one.

Uncle Ben gives his hand a squeeze and a gentle smile when Peter looks up at him. “Buck up champ, your parents will be back before you know it.”

“Yeah,” Peter smiles and never once that week did he think Uncle Ben would be wrong.

***

They’ve just finished a meager dinner of mostly tasteless stew, and Tony wants nothing more than to collapse after another day of hard labor. He’s lost track of how many days he’s been in this godforsaken cave, no longer having any concept of time after being hidden away underground. Since that first week, most days have been the same. Tony and Yinsen desperately trying to craft the instrument of their escape without being caught, all while making their captors believe they’re cooperating.

It's a terrifyingly fine tightrope they’re walking.  

At least he’s finally getting used to the constant pain of the reactor in his chest, something he’s very likely to live with for the rest of his life. However long that may be.

Tony has just stood and turned away from the fire, intending to finally sleep, when he stumbles over something in his exhausted state. He glances down half-heartedly, expecting a rock or a divet in the cave floor only to freeze when he sees it.

It’s an action figure of some sort. Clearly a superhero of some kind, his outfit is red and white with a helmet that hides his face. Tony thinks he’s flicked passed this show on TV once or twice. Power...Something. Power Riders..? No that’s not quite it.

Tony picks the toy up, feeling his lip quirk slightly despite himself.

“Stark?” Yinsen questions, coming over to look at what he’s holding.

“My kid...my soulmate,” Tony explains with a sad little huff of laughter at the other man’s raised eyebrow, “They must have lost this.”

“My children are the same, always misplacing their things,” Yinsen tells him with a nostalgic smile, “What are they like?”

“Well…” Tony heaves out a breath, blinking away the sudden urge to cry, “He’s a little boy if I had to guess, probably around seven or eight since that’s how long I’ve been tripping over his toys. He likes action figures and Legos, considering how many he loses, but I don’t...really know. I… I never got to meet him.”

And it’s true, he hasn’t. And god it feels like everything’s been a waste. He never even got to meet the little kid who’s stuff he’s been stumbling over for years. And now Tony’s in a cave held captive by terrorists with shrapnel near his heart, the only thing keeping him alive being the electromagnet in his chest and the knowledge of a missile his captives want him to build.

Yinsen puts a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You have not gotten to meet him yet.”

The engineer nods then, his jaw set. “Not yet.”

After that, Tony makes sure to keep the action figure close during his time in the cave with Yinsen. It’s almost obsessive how many times he checks that it’s still in the same place. But it’s like a little spark of hope in their dark cavern, a tangible reminder that there’s a life out there for him to return to, if he can just escape this hell.

Tony’s got to make sure he’s there to give all those toys back to the kid someday, after all.

***

Peter blinks awake sluggishly when May shakes his shoulder. “Come on. Get dressed sweetheart, breakfast is almost done. I know you don’t want to, but the two weeks the school let us have is up.”

Right. He’d been trying so hard not to think about it, he nearly forgot.

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

Peter pulls his aching body, sore from tossing and turning, out of bed while rubbing sleep from his eyes. Last night was definitely one of the worst nights he’s had these past two weeks. The teen had spent the first half of it shifting restlessly, unable to sleep, then he’d cried for at least an hour or two before finally succumbing to his exhaustion.

The boy shuffles into his clothes, not even bothering to check what he’s wearing. Moving to the bathroom, Peter cringes at his reflection after he finishes brushing his wild curls. He’s pale as a ghost, but his eyes are red and watery. Dark shadows sit under them, marks of the past two weeks of mostly sleepless nights.

He looks horrible. Like he’s a zombie or is deathly ill. There’s no way people won’t notice. The teen is really not looking forward to all the pitying looks and whispers he’s going to get just from the news he’s sure has gotten around, let alone how he looks like a ghost. Peter really doesn’t want to go back to school today...or well ever. Going back to “normal” after Ben… Well, it just doesn’t seem possible.

Unbidden more tears spring to his eyes.

Peter sighs, dropping his gaze back to the sink.

To his surprise an unfamiliar pair of sunglasses are sitting on the porcelain edge. Peter picks them up examining them, already aware that they don’t belong to May...or Ben. They’re a nice pair of sunglasses from what he can tell. The lenses are a deep red so dark it looks black, the frames a dark burnished metal. Clearly some really expensive name brand that probably costs near the apartment’s monthly rent.

Impulsively, Peter slips them on and checks out his reflection in the mirror. To his relief, they do a great job of hiding his red rimmed eyes and the dark shadows underneath them, perfect for his first day back to school. And he can admit, although they’re a smidge big, he does look pretty cool in them.

Peter slides them off and slips them into his hoodie pocket so that May doesn’t see. She probably wouldn’t approve of him trying to wear them all day. But hopefully his teachers will give him some leeway since they’ve probably all heard what happened.

Worst comes to worst, he can just lie and say he has a migraine or something.

He eats a solemn and slightly charred breakfast with May, sharing a long and tight hug with her before he forces himself to head out. As soon as he’s clear of their building, Peter slips the sunglasses back onto his face.

On the streets, no one gives him a second glance, but it is New York after all and that’s just the norm. The real test starts when he finally makes it to the front steps of his school. There are some kids milling around outside chatting about their weekends in the few minutes before the first bell. He slips past them easily enough, with only a few brief glances thrown his way.

In the hallway some of the students and teachers do give him lingering looks, but he keeps the glasses on and his head down and the whispers are minimal. When Peter finally makes it to his locker, he breaths out a sigh of relief. The sunglasses do attract a few lingering looks, but no one has commented on his distressed state.

He keeps them on for the rest of the day, sighting a migraine when asked. None of the teachers seem keen to try and force him to take them off, as expected. Peter’s pretty sure it’s just because none of them want to be responsible for making him cry or have a breakdown.

He ends up wearing the sunglasses a few more days that week, on the mornings after rough nights. The sunglasses almost feel like a shield, protecting him from prying eyes. It feels a bit like his soulmate is there, letting Peter hide behind them. They make him feel safe, and like he’s not an open book for the first time since that fatal gunshot rang out.

Eventually, after the rubbed raw pain of Ben’s death has faded a bit, the glasses end up tucked away with the little red screwdriver in the box that holds his most precious items.

***

Tony really wants a drink, despite all his promises to Pepper. He really has been trying to lay off since they finally got back together after such a long break. Not to mention he’d gotten black out drunk so many times in the first few weeks after Siberia that the few people left in his life had come together and begged him to stop before he killed himself. Tony’s a lot older than he was when he went out drinking every night after his parents were killed, and the drinking isn’t nearly as gratifying as it was then.

He hates that it’s still a struggle to not seek alcohol out on his own.

Now more than ever, especially after Ultron and the media dubbed “Civil War”, Tony wonders if he’s even managed to do any good in the world as Iron Man. More and more it seems like he just makes bigger messes than the ones he tries to clean up. Sure, he’s had his good moments, but they feel like they pale in comparison to all his missteps.

Not to mention how even when it’s a group failure, most of the world is content in letting just him take the fall. Everyone else seems to get off scot-free while Tony and his loved ones are left in the blast radius of the aftermath.  

The engineer sighs, heading back to his lab after taking a stressful SI call in his office upstairs. FRIDAY opens the door for him without comment and he heads towards the single worktable he’s managed to set up so far in the compound. But then Tony blinks at the backpack that’s now sitting on top of the letter and dinosaur tech Rogers mailed him.

The bag is dark blue and little worn, something inexpensive that’s easily bought at big box stores. Feeling a bit excited, almost like he’s opening a present, Tony pulls the first zipper open. This isn’t the first backpack his kid’s lost, but it is weird that it’s happened at least four times this year alone.

Inside he finds a handful of pens and pencils, a mostly blank notebook with some pretty high level physics in it, an advanced calculus textbook that’s seen better days, and a change of clothes. There’s no name of course, because the universe hates to “ruin the surprise” as the saying goes, but it still tells Tony a bit more about the type of person his kid is.

Obviously the kid is incredibly smart, although Tony already knew that from finding the kid’s advanced biochem notebook in the first lost backpack and seeing the sort of stuff he was working on (Some of which seemed to be of the kid’s own initiative and was complex enough that Tony himself had needed to brush up on the subject to decode it).

He also knows that the kid must not come from a super wealthy household going by the cheap bag and worn clothes. Of course he already knew that too. Most of the stuff that the kid’s lost is generally well taken care of, but always inexpensive. That knowledge had certainly gotten Tony to fund a lot more scholarships for advanced school programs around New York City. Not that he knows where the kid is other than somewhere in America, but it still made Tony happy funding the future.

Smiling slightly, Tony puts everything back in the bag and is about to take it to store with the rest of the kid’s stuff when he catches sight of the pin buttons decorating the front. One is a Star Wars one with some nerdy meme on it, but the other one has the Iron Man mask on it. He lets out a surprised and almost wet laugh. Even after all these years he's still the kid’s favorite.

Tony will never forget the first Iron Man drawing he’d found that the kid had done, or the first action figure of himself he’d tripped over in the lab. Tony remembers preening like a peacock and showing the toy off to Pepper, Rhodey, and even Happy for the next week.

Somehow, despite all the shit he’s done, Tony must have done something right to end up as his kid’s hero. Becoming a superhero might not be why he originally set out to be Iron Man, but somewhere along the way he learned that he couldn’t just stand by and let people get hurt. Tony may not be as much as a pure hearted superhero as the spider kid, but it’s nice to have a reminder that he’s still got people to live up to.

Speaking of the kid, Peter is eager for sure. He’s smart as a whip and has a good heart despite all the times the universe has shit on him. And young as he is, the spiderling is using his superpowers with a maturity that most kids his age wouldn’t have. That and he did really well in Germany.

Tony looks back at the backpack frowning. Iron Man won’t be around forever, as much as Tony hates to admit it, he is getting old. And with almost all of the Avengers in the wind, he needs to make sure there are still heroes, real heroes, for the world to believe in.  

Tony nods to himself and pulls up the design for the Iron Spider suit.

***

Peter pulls himself out from under the rubble of the collapsed warehouse, gasping for breath, limbs still shaking. Behind him the rubble shifts and tumbles further and the teen is quick to scramble away from it, coughing at the dust it kicks up. For a moment he just stands there trying to catch his breath and still his shaking.

Holy shit, that just happened. The Vulture dropped an entire building on him and left him to die. Peter can feel the embers of his panic trying to crawl up his throat and reignite. He already knows this incident is gonna be nightmare fuel to rival the ones he has about Ben’s death. Just like that night, Peter feels like he lost something of himself, only this time it was lost under the rubble and not in a puddle of blood.

But he thankfully doesn’t have time to dwell on it.

There’s no telling how far Toomes has gotten while he was trapped under the warehouse. Peter needs to move now if he wants to stop the villain from stealing dangerous Avengers tech. If that stuff gets out on the streets no one in New York City, or maybe even the country would be safe. The thought of what kinds of people Toomes could sell those weapons to is horrifying.  

People are in danger, and even if Peter messes up or disappoints Mr. Stark again, he can’t let anyone get hurt when he has the power to stop it.

So, still trembling slightly, Peter raises his arm and shoots off a web, swinging into the night after the Vulture.

He doesn’t give a single thought to his Spider-Man mask, lost and left behind in the debris.

***

Tony is in the Avengers Compound again when he finds it.

Moving all the old Avengers tech to the compound has proven to be a nightmare. He’s still got the government up his ass after the “Civil War” debacle. Not to mention the modified alien weapons on the streets that both the DODC and FBI have been too incompetent to get a handle on, or even find the source of. But he’s still so busy with SI, the Accords, and the move upstate that he doesn’t have the time to track the guy properly at the moment.

And this Vulture guy really is below the Avengers’ pay grade like he told Peter. They were never really in the business of taking down arms dealers, not even high tech ones.

Tony sighs. He is starting to feel bad about taking back the kid’s suit. Sure, Peter was being reckless in it, but hadn’t Tony done the same in his? And Peter had the excuse of being an actual child. Not to mention sooner or later, the kid is going to remember that his powers don’t come from the suit. He’s going to run into a crime he can’t ignore and he won’t have the one thing that keeps him safe.

Tony had been telling the spiderling he didn’t want to be like his old man before the ferry shitshow, and what had he done as soon as Peter slipped up? Screamed at him, taken away the suit, and basically told the kid he didn’t want to have to deal with him anymore. And before that he had barely interacted with Peter after the whole thing in Germany, and yeah, Tony had some good excuses for that, but it was all still the exact same shit Howard would have done.

As much as Tony doesn’t do feelings, maybe he should call the kid up and apologize soon. It’s already been a few weeks.

Tony has just collapsed onto his desk chair in his workshop and started massaging at the tension headache sitting at the front of his skull when it catches his eye. A strange flash of red on his work table that wasn’t there just a moment before. Tony already knows it’s not something of his considering how little he’s been using this lab up until now.

His lip is already twitching up fondly as he reaches for it, wondering what the kid lost this time. He grabs the fabric object and pulls it out from under the stack of blueprints it’s ended up under.

For a moment nothing makes sense.

He’s holding Spider-Man’s mask.

The first one, from the kid’s onesie suit with the googly-eyed goggles sewn in. It’s soaking wet and covered in concrete dust. There are also a few smears of darker red that take a moment to register as blood to the engineer. All he can do is stare at it in utter confusion for a few seconds.

Then it suddenly makes so much fucking sense and Tony is so damn stupid. Of course It’s Peter, of course it’s always been the kid. Of fucking course his soulmate is the superpowered genius orphan with a guilt complex as big as his own. Of course it's the kid who agreed to help fight when Tony needed him the most. It was right in front of his face and he’s an idiot for not realizing that he found his soulmate nearly six months ago.

A soulmate who he’s been foisting off on Happy and refused to grow close to out of paranoid fear. A soulmate who’s looked up to Tony his whole life despite how shitty of a person Tony is. A soulmate who has obviously gone out in his homemade onesie of a suit and has obviously been wounded recently, if the fresh blood on the mask is anything to go by.

“FRIDAY, call the Forehead of Security,” Tony orders, vaguely realizing that his hands have started to tremble.  

As soon as the line connects, Tony is speaking before his friend can get a word in. “Happy, where’s the kid?”

“Tony- what?” Happy asks, sounding baffled, “Who? Parker?”

“Yes. What other kid do we both know? Where is he?” Tony questions.

“Why are you asking me? I don’t know. You have his number don’t you? Or just call his-” Happy cuts himself off, and for a moment Tony thinks the connection dropped until he hears Happy swearing, “Shit! Shit!”

“What?” the engineer demands.

There's a long moment of silence and Tony thinks he might actually hear Happy gulp. “The plane. It just went down.”

“Oh God, that’s what he’s doing,” Tony breathes out, heart clenching, “Peter’s there, Happy! He’s trying to stop it and he’s going to get himself killed!”

“What? How do you know? Besides I thought you took his suit?”

“I did! But I found his old Spider-Man mask covered in dirt and blood!” Tony practically shouts into the phone, the fear he feels coming out easier as anger.

Happy is silent for a moment, maybe stunned at the outburst. “Tony what are you talking about? You’re upstate-”

“You aren’t getting it,” Tony cuts him off, feeling panic starting to win over anger, “I just found it in the lab! The lab that Peter has never set foot in! On my work table that was clear about five minutes ago!”

“What..? But that means...” there’s a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line, “Oh God. Shit- Okay. Coney Island that’s where-”

“I’m on my way,” Tony says, shoving Peter’s mask into his pocket and stepping into a suit, hoping with everything he has that the kid, his kid, is okay.

Then he’s blasting out of the lab’s launchpad, streaking through the sky towards the glowing beacon of New York City in the far distance as fast as the suit can take him. He tries to call Peter from his HUD but it goes straight to voicemail and Tony tries not to lose it completely.

---

When Tony finds Peter, bleeding, battered, and unconscious on top of the Cyclone coaster he greys out. FRIDAY is feeding him info on the kid’s condition and giving him instructions, but even as Tony’s body moves to follow her recommendations, it’s like he’s not even there. Or maybe he is but only in flashes, like his brain is skipping.  

One moment Tony’s picking the kid up as if he’s made of porcelain and the next he’s shooting off into the air, streaking back towards the compound since he stupidly moved upstate and left Peter without support in the city. It feels like Tony blinks and he’s landing again and Helen and her team are taking Peter’s limp blood covered body from Tony’s arms. He thinks Pepper calls him, and then Happy.

He has no idea what he says to either of them.

And then, what must be hours later, it feels like Tony finally wakes up in the compound’s medby, sitting at Peter’s bedside. The kid’s old mask is still bulging out of his pocket. He pulls it out and stares at it for a bit before looking back at his kid, his soulmate, laid out in the narrow bed.

Peter in his hospital scrubs is smaller and paler than Tony has ever seen him against the crisp white sheets. Not that he’s seen much of the kid, a dark part of his thoughts remind him. The kid’s broken ribs and head wound are bandaged, and he’s got an air cast for a wrist fracture. Helen’s got him hooked up to a complicated IV drip of some sort and FRIDAY is keeping careful track of the spiderling’s vitals on a nearby monitor.

Tony doesn’t remember too much of what Helen said about Peter’s injuries, other than they were somewhat severe and he’d lost a good bit of blood, but they thankfully hadn’t had to operate. Although he remembers there had been a fair amount of stitches needing to be done on the kid’s torso. That and something about having to give him an insane amount of pain meds to even touch his metabolism.

Peter shivers in his sleep and Tony hesitates for a moment before pulling the blankets up higher and tucking the teen in. After a few minutes the shivering stops, and tentatively Tony takes one of Peter’s hands in his. The kid’s hand is cold and a bit clammy in his, but Tony doesn’t mind. His curls are adorably wild and the engineer has to resist the urge to brush them out of Peter’s face.  

Tony doesn’t know how long he sits there holding his soulmate's hand, going over in his head again and again what he could possibly say to the kid, before he feels Peter grip his hand back weakly.

“Finally back with us, Pete?” Tony asks with a softness he didn’t know he possessed when the spider kid’s eyes start to slit open.

“Mis’r S’ark?” the teen slurs still half asleep.

Tony manages a weak grin. “The one and only.”

“Wha’ are you doin’ here?” Peter mumbles squinting his eyes open a bit more.

Tony squeezes the kid’s hand. “Didn’t want you to wake up alone and freak out.”

The physical contact and words seem to get through some of Peter’s drowsiness and confusion because he blinks rapidly then snatches his hand out of Tony’s own. The engineer tries not to feel stung by the action.

“Oh my god, your plane! Toomes! Is he okay, is anyone hurt?!” the teen asks frantically.

Tony is quick to stop the spiderling from trying to sit up. “The only one hurt was you, kid.”

Peter slumps back against the pillows. “That’s good.”

“It’s really not. Peter, you could have-” Tony cuts himself off and breathes out a long sigh, not wanting to lecture the kid while he’s still recovering.

The kid is giving him a wary look, like he’s waiting for Tony to lose it on him again. It makes him feel like even more of a piece of shit. So he does the only thing he can think of and holds the Spider-Man mask out to the kid.

“I found this,” Tony says abruptly.

“Oh. At the old warehouse?” Peter asks, taking it from him without meeting his eyes.  

“No. In my lab.”

The spider kid’s head pops up at that, confused. “But, Mr. Stark, I’ve never been to your lab. And I had it for part of the fight with Toomes.”

Tony nods and clears his throat. Well, now or never. “I know. But you did lose it.”

Peter’s brow furrows in confusion. Tony sees it dawn on the kid after a few seconds, his eyes going wide and shooting up to stare at the engineer.  

“You… So you’re…” the kid stutters.

“Yeah, kid. I’m your soulmate and I’ve got several boxes full of old toys, clothes, and backpacks that I’ve been holding onto for a long time,” Tony tells the boy feeling a little choked up.

Peter doesn’t say anything, he’s still staring at Tony looking completely gobsmacked. When the silence continues to stretch on, the engineer feels his insides squirm with insecurity. After everything that’s happened, maybe Peter doesn’t want to deal with such a shitty soulmate. Tony’s not sure he’d be too forgiving after the last few months of no contact and a near deathmatch with a supervillain that probably could have been avoided.  

When Peter still doesn’t manage to get a word out, Tony lets himself deflate. “I don’t blame you if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore. I know I’m not anyone’s first choice of well…anything generally, and you deserve a better soulmate and mentor... But give me another chance, Pete. It won’t be perfect at first but let me try and fix-”

“That’s-!” Peter bursts in suddenly, cutting him off, “That’s not true Mr. Stark. The whole ‘not anyone’s first choice’ crap, I mean. You were...one of my first heroes and- and you still are. Both in a science and superhero sense. And yeah you, uh, do really suck at the whole…emotional availability thing, but you just need practice. Probably.”

Tony finds his mouth twitching up, especially when Peter’s ears go red at the last bit. The kid is endearingly honest and awkward.

“What I mean is, that I’ve been trying to follow your footsteps for a long time now. And I forgive you for the whole…ghosting me thing, and I don’t blame you for taking the suit after the ferry. And I want to be your soulmate if you’ll still have me after I crashed your plan, and-” Peter cuts off his own rambling and looks down, still flushed with embarrassment, “Sorry, I’m totally still freaking out that it’s you.”

“You and me both kid, I don’t know what I did to deserve compassionate, responsible, superhero Peter Parker as my soulmate,” Tony tells the kid, and immediately shoots for a joke to cut away from the vulnerability of that statement,  “Even if you’re a little shit that gives me grey hair, especially with all the all the times I’ve nearly broken my neck tripping on your stuff over the years.”

“Well, I don’t know what I did to deserve Tony freaking Stark as my soulmate, even if he only loses boring crap like ties and metal scraps. Seriously, Ned’s soulmate lost Nintendo DS games and all I had to show from mine were socks or nuts and bolts. You made me so lame, Mr. Stark,” Peter whines dramatically, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Oh yeah, and it doesn’t ruin my very polished image as Tony Stark, billionaire genius, to trip over your Legos while out in public?” the engineer teases back, ruffling the kid’s hair.

Peter gives him a big innocent grin in response like the smartass he is and Tony just rolls his eyes.

The engineer leans forward and opens his arms in invitation. “C’mere spiderling.”

Peter lights up and gingerly leans into the embrace, careful of his injured ribs. He lets out a soft sigh of contentment and Tony won’t admit to anyone that the sound makes him melt a bit.

“Is this actually a hug this time, since there’s no door to get?” Peter questions with false innocence after a few moments.

Tony snorts. “Yes, you little shit it’s a hug.”

Peter’s laughter in his ear is the best thing he’s heard in months.

“So, when do we get to return each other’s stuff? Can we do it now?” the spider kid asks when they break apart, excitement shining in his eyes even as they began to droop with fatigue.

“Not till you’re healed, first of all. And we’ll have to take a day to do it. It’s a lot to go through. You’ve lost a lot of stuff over the years, kiddo,” Tony tells him, helping to settle the drowsy kid back under the bedsheets.

“We’ve got time,” Peter yawns, “Besides, if I didn’t lose anything, then how would you ever know to come find me and give it back Mr. Stark?”

Smiling fondly Tony finally gives in and starts combing his fingers through Peter’s hair. “I’ll always come find you, Pete.”

The spiderling gives a happy sleepy murmur in response before he slips back into sleep.

***

A few weeks later, after May had found out about everything, superhero alter egos and soulmates included, Peter is finally ungrounded enough to be allowed to go to the compound one weekend. May and Tony had talked a lot in the last few weeks and she had come to terms with everything. Well, after a lot of yelling at least. But now she was glad that Peter had another adult to care for him and watch over him.

Peter wasn’t just teasing about his not losing much over the years. He’s only brought over about three cardboard boxes worth of forgotten items. It’s a stark contrast to the eight or so big plastic bins that Mr. Stark keeps Peter’s things in. To be fair, he knows Mr. Stark has an eidetic memory which makes it pretty easy to keep track of most of his things, while Peter seems to be a bit more of a disorganized genius.

Mr. Stark starts in on his collection first, cooing over Peter’s baby toys and books while the teen sputters in embarrassment. In retaliation Peter just shoves the entire box of screws, nuts, bolts, and other assorted metal bits of various sizes at his mentor with a huff. Even Mr. Stark admits that it would be pretty boring stuff for a kid to find. Although Peter does confess to using a few spare parts in his refurbishing of tech he’d found in the trash.  

“Oh wow, I always wondered what happened to my red Power Ranger!” Peter exclaims when he spots the bright flash of red and white in the box of toys Mr. Stark has just opened, “I was so sure one of the other kids at school had stolen it.”

“I found that guy when I was in Afghanistan,” his mentor divulges quietly.

Peter freezes half way through grabbing the toy. “What?”

“When… When I was kidnapped, I tripped over it in the cave the Ten Rings kept us in. I carried him around with me the whole time after that. That little dude went through the ringer with me then,” Mr. Stark explains ruefully, his eyes locked on the battered action figure.

The expression on Mr. Stark’s face is hard to decipher. It’s sad and haunted, but there’s also some deep fondness as he looks at the plastic Power Ranger. Obviously there are a lot of heavy memories tied to the toy, good and bad.

“You should keep it, Mr. Stark,” Peter says firmly, gently pushing the action figure back into his mentor’s hand.  

Surprised, Mr. Stark seems to shake himself out of whatever stupor he’d fallen into. “You sure, kid?”

“Yeah.”

Mr. Stark doesn’t have to say anything, but Peter can tell. His Red Ranger means a lot to his mentor. It’s not something Peter wants to take away from him. Mr. Stark gives him a warm smile, his genuine one that he saves only for a select few people, and sits the toy on his work desk in a place of honor.

“Are you good to keep going?” Peter asks uncertainly.

He’s still not sure where the lines are with his mentor yet. They’ve slowly been getting closer over video calls and texts while Peter was grounded, but they’re both still waffling in that awkward phase when you first start actually getting to know someone.

Mr. Stark gives him a soft smile. “Yeah, kid. I’m fine.”

A bit later, after they’ve gone through and reminisced over all Peter’s baby stuff, Tony pulls a big binder out of one of the bins.

“I loved finding your drawings,” his mentor admits, “Rhodey, well you’d know him as War Machine, hung some up on the fridge as a joke when I showed them to him. And then, before I knew it, I was putting them up there myself.”

“You did what?!” Peter gapped, “Mr. Stark!”

“Oh come on kid, your artwork was adorable. Especially after the Battle of New York and I started finding a lot more Iron Man drawings. I even had a few of them framed,” his mentor grins.

Peter gives him a flat look. “You did not.”

In response, Mr. Stark  just raises an eyebrow and pulls a framed colored pencil drawing of Iron Man out of one of the bins. It’s not a bad likeness, done on lined notebook paper depicting Iron Man blasting a giant monster out of the sky. Peter vaguely remembers having drawn the thing when he was bored during math class a few years ago. The teacher confiscated it when she saw he wasn’t paying attention and Peter never did get it back.

The teen hides his red face behind his hands. “Oh my God.”

Iron Man literally put Peter’s childhood artwork up on his fridge like a proud dad. He doesn’t know if he wants to preen or hide from knowing that.  

Mr. Stark just laughs and claps him on the shoulder. “Don’t be like that, kid. Come on, I can’t not be proud of my kid’s artwork.”

Peter feels himself turning an even deeper shade of red. His kid.

Stuttering out something incomprehensible, Peter reaches for one of his boxes of Mr. Stark’s lost items. Still chuckling, his mentor leans over his shoulder to see what he’s digging through. He makes a surprised noise and reaches down to extract something from the collection.

It’s a very familiar small red screwdriver.

“Well, what do you know? That’s my favorite screwdriver from when I was in MIT. I put DUM-E’s circuit board together with that.”

“Seriously? That’s so cool, Mr. Stark. My parents told me they found it in my crib when I was just a few months old. I used to take it everywhere with me when I was little,” Peter recounts with a small smile.

Mr. Stark’s eyes crinkle, a subtle upward quirk to his lips. “I can see you took good care of it.”

“I’m glad I could finally bring it back to you,” Peter tells him earnestly.

He’ll miss the screwdriver a lot more than he wants to admit, but it’s something so important to Mr. Stark. This is the tool his mentor but his first AI together with. He deserves to finally have it back.

“Keep it, Pete,” Mr. Stark places the tool in Peter’s hand and fold’s the teens fingers over it, “You’ve obviously given it a good home.”

Peter looks up at him. “Are you sure?”

“It couldn’t be in safer hands, kid,” his mentor affirms.

Peter beams in response. He’d been so impatient to meet his soulmate when he was a kid, but now he knows it was well worth the wait. And there’s no one he’d want more as his mentor, father figure, or soulmate than Tony Stark.

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: The one where Komaeda is the producer for a terrible movie, Enoshima is the worst kind of celebrity, and Hinata is just a stuntman for Kamukura.

Author: @serahne-is-here

For: @ask-the-sakamaki

Rating/Warnings: Some swearing, but that’s it

Prompt: AU ! ( I picked a ‘Actors AU’ even if technically neither Komaeda nor Hinata are actors )

Author’s notes: I didn’t write in english in ages, so I really hope you enjoy it <3

“And… cut !” declared Director Kirigiri, holding firmly her bullhorn with two hands.

As soon as the magic word was spoken, relief flooded the studio, as everyone on set felt allowed to relax, if only for just a little while. It was a stressful - and yet, pretty normal - day in Hope’s Peak Studio : one scene down, two to go.

“Sonia, it was your best take, we keep it. Izuru, stunning as usual,” offered Kirigiri off-handedly, before standing up and starting to stretch, arms behind her back. “Let’s take a thirty minute break, and then we move on to the Waterfalls. Please tell the stuntmen they need to go get dressed, we miraculously managed to be on time for today, let’s try to keep it that way.”

Everyone in the studio mumbled in agreement, before they dispersed themselves around the room, in a chaotic, yet very organized fashion. From where he was standing, just a few feets behind the camera crew, Hinata was perfectly well-placed to admire how everyone in this creative hive was buzzing around, in a dance that they all knew by heart. It was, after all, their sixt day of filming Dreams of Future, and they knew their roles and lines as well as the actors did.

Koizumi, Kirigiri’s assistant, bounced toward Sonia and started praising her, at such speed that Hinata couldn’t understand half of it. Kamukura looked around, his eternal bored expression carved in his face at this point, before he disappeared inside his lodge. Slowly, as would a heavy animal migrating for winter, cameras and micros started to move to the Waterfalls set.

Hinata was about to go and get dressed - Kirigiri had been really adamant stuntmen shouldn’t be late, and he wasn’t about to make a bad impression to the studio owner’s daughter - when, from behind him, came a voice he only knew too well.

“What did you think of the show, Hinata ? Absolutely splendid, was it not ?”

Hinata turned around, frowning, and his eyes immediately found the voice’s owner : Nagito Komaeda, main producer for the movie, and all around one of the most unpleasant person he had ever met. Which wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t also one of the most attractive person he had ever met.

Both of these things sent mixed messages to Hinata’s brain, and it tended to just shortcut whenever Komaeda was nearby.

“I guess,” he replied, making sure that his eyes didn’t linger too long on the other - over his dead body would he be caught staring at Komaeda. “Sonia is really talented. Her role might be small, but she is nailing it.”

She really was. Sonia Nevermind was an european actress, looking to make herself a name in Japan. Beyond her eccentric personality, typical of foreigners, she was also incredibly sweet, humble, and hard-working, which was more than could be said for most actors than Hinata had worked with.

Komaeda huffed at Hinata’s reply, a sound that made him both incredibly adorable and punchable at the same time. As he said : mixed signals.

“Only Miss Nevermind ?” he noticed, amused. “I see that your jealousy over Kamukura’s incredible success is alive and well. How awful of you.”

“I’m not jealous of Kamukura,” said Hinata, gritting his teeth. “Why would I be ? He has the emotional range of a vacuum cleaner. A four-year old emote more in a minute than he does in a year.”

Komaeda hummed quietly. “That might be so. But we both know you couldn’t care less about anyone’s acting skill. Actually, if you truly think so low of his skills, his popularity must be even more insufferable to you, right ?”

“Will you shut up ?” Hinata mumbled back, 

Hinata shook his head. Kamukura’s success in the filming industry was the most bewildering thing for him. The guy didn’t act. He wasn’t even bad at it, he just didn't try. All he did was wearing the same bored, vaguely annoyed expression, movie after movie. And for some reasons, critics loved him, praised him for his ‘original take’ on his roles, and promised him a glorious career.

This was ridiculous.

“Don’t be so bitter, Hinata,” the white-haired man calmly smiled at him. “The truth is, even if Kamukura wasn’t as talented as he is, it wouldn’t make you more popular. These studios are full of nobodies thinking they can become somebody. This is admirable, but useless, for most of them. In a way, I think you should be proud of your achievement : at your own level, you are helping our stars to shine, in their creative processes. A wonderful stepping stone for the glorious people blessed with talent.”

Hinata narrowed his eyes. Back when he first met Komaeda, this kind of insult would have made his skin crawl, and he would have breathlessly argued with the other. But he had eventually realized that no amount of arguing would change his mind. And he had to be on set in twenty-two minutes.

“Great talk, but I have to go and get in costume. And them I guess I’ll throw myself from the top of the Waterfalls, if Enoshima acts her usual self.”

“That sounds lovely !” Komaeda clapped his hands, excitedly. “I wish I could come with you, but alas, I have to talk to Kirigiri before the next scene begins. Though I won’t leave without saying goodbye, of course.”

Hinata sighed, a smile working his way up to his lips, despite his annoyance.

“Sounds good.”

*

Stunts weren’t Hinata’s first choice of career, of course. He had always dreamed of being an actor, ever since he was a starry-eyed kid, whose nonsensical babbling wasn’t taken seriously by the adults around him. This dream had stuck with him, up until adulthood, when he had finally found out how impossible it was to get roles when one didn’t have any contact in the industry.

One year ago, when Hope’s Peak Studios had called him, telling them that he had the ‘perfect body type’ to play Izuru Kamukura’s double, the offer has been too tempting to refuse. It was finally his chance to meet people who could help him grow as a true actor.

That hasn’t been the case, so far. His work was spotless, and he was regularly called back by the Studios - who was even ready to discuss his fees from movie to movie - but always as a stuntman, and most of the time for Kamukura. It wasn’t the worst job in the world, he was being paid more than most people working in the Studios - he was putting his body on the line, after all - but… if anything, being so close to his dream, without being able to live it was his own personal hell.

Something was missing. And maybe Komaeda was right, and it was the popularity, and the spotlight, and the journalists begging you for interview, and the expensive gifts, and all this superficial stuff that society told him to adore and reject, all at once. But, Hinata knew, it was more than that. It wouldn’t have hurt that much if it was only that.

He did want to be an actor, and a part of him had always thought he would end up being one. As a child, he had wanted to be a samurai, a cowboy, a wizard, an adventurer, an astronaut, and has soon realized that only one job would allow him to be all that - and even more - at once.

Being an actor was to live a thousand lives. And maybe it was worth wasting the only one he had over it.

*

It was four hours later, and nothing was going well. Everyone was on the Waterfall set, which was pretty awful in itself - everything looked really fake, and Hinata knew everything would be corrected in post-production but still it was barely better than a green screen at that point.

Everyone was exhausted, Kirigiri was on her four coffee cup, and Kamukura seemed almost in a dissociative state with how much he seemed to care about his surroundings.

Of course, it was all Enoshima’s fault. She was objectively one of the biggest star in Japan, and everyone knew that her being in the movie would guarantee some kind of success. She was also a terrible human being, who enjoyed nothing more than to reduce to tears her assistants.

“This is what you call a macchiato ?” She spat to the poor girl’s face, who was already quivering in fear. “I could piss in a cup and it would taste better than that. Are you trying to poison me ?”

“I can’t believe you accepted to hire her,” Hinata mumbled to Komaeda’s attention, as they were both looking at the scene with consternation. “She is not a bad actress, but she is not worth the hassle. Sonia could play her part just as well.”

Komaeda looked at Hinata, all wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, and it was really infuriating how pretty he looked after so many hours of being stuck in the Waterfall set with the entire film crew. Hinata was sure that he looked like a mess, even after he took off the heavy wig he wore when he incarnated Kamukura.

Seeing how things were going, he wouldn’t have to save Junko’s ass from a well-deserved fall to death before ten o’clock, anyway. And only if Kirigiri didn’t give up and call it a day until then.

“I’m not taking any creative decision,” Komaeda replied with a shrug. “I wasn’t the one who asked for Enoshima. I’m not sure who did, to be completely honest.”

“Someone who doesn’t have to spend hours with her everyday,” guessed Hinata, grimacing when he saw Enoshima’s assistant run away, probably in order to get another coffee. “I never thought she was that good of an actress. Did you ?”

Komaeda hummed noncommittally but didn’t add anything, which, considering his habit to wax poetry about every actor in the Studios, definitely meant he was agreeing with him. Hinata weirdly felt vindicated by that.

“She will attract a different audience,” explained Komaeda. “She is very popular with teenage girls, and straight males. Since I’m neither I might not be the best person to judge of her appeal.”

They both fell silent, looking at Kirigiri and Enoshima’s argument about a specific line that Enoshima wanted to change in the script, and Hinata took the time to file the information he had just received from Komaeda, just in case. 

“You could fire her,” Hinata suggested. “You’re putting the money, you get to decide, right ?”

Komaeda chuckled. “I’d rather leave the creative process to talented people, that’s better for everyone.”

“Wait,” Hinata replied. “You are talking as if you didn’t take any decision for the movies you are funding. That makes no sense.”

“That’s the case,” Komaeda shrugs. “I just give the money, and the Studios does the rest.”

“But this is ridiculous ! All your movies were success. All of them. Including the one that is entirely made in sign language. You have to… I don’t know.. influence some creative choices, right ?”

“Nope !” Komeada said, laughing. “You are confusing any kind of skill with pure luck, Hinata. I’m no different from someone who son the lottery.”

“Who won the lottery five times,” Hinata corrected. “You produced five movies. Six with this one, which will probably be an incredible success. I don’t know why because Kamukura can’t act, Enoshima is the worst, the script is terrible, and the set looks like it’s made in cardbox,” Hinata argued.

Komaeda fell silent, and looked away from Hinata.

“This is what you think ? Interesting.”

He didn’t have the time to say more, Kirigiri was calling him for his scene, and he had to put on his stupid, smelly wig and save Junko Enoshima from her death.

Sometimes his life sounded like a joke.

*

“And… cut !”

Hinata almost cried in relief, throwing his wig on the floor - almost hoped it would fall in the water, but since the waterfall wasn’t really one, it wouldn’t make this horrendous thing disappear. It was finally over. The crew was given a day off, and the express command to rest during that day, as everyone looked dead on their feet. Every scene with Enoshima had been filmed though, so the rest would probably be a piece of cake.

He was surprised to see Komaeda still lounging around, as exhausted as the rest of them were.

“You’re still there ?” Hinata asked him. “How surprising.”

“It really is,” Komaeda yawned, hand in front of his mouth. He was always so proper. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Shoot,” Hinata replied

“Let’s walk.”

Komaeda started to drift away from the crowd, getting closer to the waterfall.

“Uh, sure ?” Hinata said, following him, a few steps behind. “I kinda want to go home, at some point ? And, you know, sleep until friday morning, or until I’m dead may-”

“Why didn’t you ask me to star in one of my movies ?” Komaeda cut him off, very seriously.

“What ?” Hinata asked, caught off-guard. “Where the hell does that come from ?”

“Komaeda tilted his head on the side, curious. “You seem to think that I have some sort of curse, that makes all the movies I’m producing highly-successful. You are wrong, as I was only lucky, but if that is what you think, and if you truly want to become an actor in the future, why didn’t you ask for a part in one of my movies ?”

Hinata blinked. Truth was, he didn’t consider Komaeda as a ‘contact in the industry’. He was unpleasant, rude at the time, unwillingly hilarious, and Hinata enjoyed spending time with him, more than he would admit it. He didn’t want to… use his relationship ( whatever it was ) with Komaeda to further his career

God, he was never going to be an actor at this rate, right ?

“I didn’t want to owe you anything.” He settled for something that sounded vaguely honest.

“Well, aren’t you a prideful nobody,” Komaeda huffed.

But he was smiling too. And Hinata felt like he had done something right, in this whole mess. Without thinking, he took a few steps in the other’s direction, until he was so close he could see every nuance of green inside Komaeda’s eyes, and noticed how the other’s eyes fell on his lips. They were… as alone as they had ever been.

“I…” started Hinata, without any idea what he was going to say.

But he didn’t have to rack his brain for anything, as suddenly, previsibly, a chunk of the so-cheap-it-was-probably-carbox set cracked under Komaeda’s feet. Hinata saw his eyes widen comically, his mouth open in a silent scream of surprise, and the next instant, he was plunging toward the ground, five meters under them.

Hinata reacted in half-a-second, and caught Komaeda’s wrist as a reflex, and didn’t let go even when he heard the characteristic crack of a broken bone. He almost let go, though, when he heard Komaeda laugh breathlessly.

“See, Hinata ?” His laugh was borderline hysterical. “Am I not the luckiest person alive ?”

“You broke your fucking wrist, Komaeda,” he replied.

*

As predicted, Dream of Future was a huge success. It might or not have been because Enoshima created a huge scandal by pretending being pregnant with Kirigiri’s husband’s child, and then claiming that she would kill herself if he didn’t recognize the baby. Sure, critics tore the movie appart, as it was objectively a pile of burning trash, but everyone wanted a taste of the scandal, as short-lived as it was.

All in all, Hinata was happy to only be a stuntman in this whole affair.

Maybe not wanting to be in one of Komaeda’s movie wasn’t that stupid of an idea.

[fan-gyaldump]

  Erased

Bakugo x reader fanfic

Part 1 

Content warnings: Angst, Swearing

Hearing the sound of the vacuum cleaner from the neighbours above was the last thing y/n wanted to hear after waking up with an excruciatingly painful migraine. Shutting her eyes shut as she tried to force herself back to sleep and never wake up, or to sleep until the vacuuming would stop. However as much as she tried to sleep, she knew for a fact that she had to get up and was not prepared to spend another day indoors.

Her routines were starting to drive her insane. Wake up,lay in bed doing nothing, eat, sleep, drink, eat, drink some more and finally go to bed knowing that her hangover would bite her in the ass in the morning. But she preferred this than what her life used to be.

Giving up her dreams to be taken by the League of Villians was probably. No. Most definitely the worst decision she had ever made in her life. Allowing herself to succumb to such a lifestyle with nothing but pain and tyranny was what got her into this mess. Living in a shitty apartment, with hardly any money to her name and with no will to live anymore. But why she kept going, she had no idea.

There was no way she was going to try to become a hero again. For multiple reasons: 1) She had given up on her hero partnership with fatgum 2) joining the league meant getting all of her records and information removed permanently and 3) she didn’t want anyone from her old class back at UA to find her like this. Not like this. Sure they graduated already and most of them became some of the best heroes in Japan, but that made it even worse to get back out there and start fresh, she would be so far behind, catching up would be impossible.

Deku had become the new number 1 hero, Todoroki took over Endeavours spot, Uraraka became the number 5 hero and Bakugo.

God she couldn’t even say his name without feeling pure disgust in herself. For leaving him and everyone else like that, removing herself completely from their lives, causing all that unnecessary stress on both them and the media, the scandals, the conflict, the search parties and everything else. All because she was too stupid to think twice about what she was doing.

She pushed herself off of her bed slowly and shakily, groaning to herself as her migraine only got worse with the more she moved. As soon as she got up, her vision became blurry, the room began spinning and she could feel herself about to throw up. Luckily for her it was just her iron deficiency acting up again, slowly going away with the more breaths she took. She dragged herself over to her sink to wash her disgustingly greasy and sick face. Hoping that it would cleanse her of everything else she had. She looked into the mirror to find that her dark circles had gotten worse, along with her complexion. She looked dead, pale, weak and most of all, pathetic. A shower better fix this

Katuski propped his head against his palm, skimming through paperwork from the last villain attack he had been involved with. Some asshole who thought it would be a good idea to keep an entire apartment complex hostage and rig the security systems. It wasn’t hard from the pros to find him and through him into jail but the worst part was always the paperwork. But this is just one of the many responsibilities he had to endure if he wanted to be the number 3 hero in all of Japan.

Villains were seen as slightly more valuable to Katsuki, he hoped that at least one of them would know where you were or if they knew what had happened to you. Every villain would be asked those same questions by him. Even though it had been 2 years since your disappearance, he never stopped looking.

His trance like state was interrupted by a notification on his phone, pulling him back to reality. He opened to check what it was only to find. A memory from 3 years ago. A picture of him and y/n at a dinner party after a mission that th it had completed regarding a group of terrorist villains that had been on the run for months at that point. He looked at the photo, eyes fixated onto her smile, her eyes and the way she looked so happy with him and how happy he looked with her. That was one of the last times he had been with her until she went missing. He hated himself for not being able to track down t he bastards that took her, for not being able to be with her and for having that argument with her before she left. He still needed to say so many things to her. He wanted to tell her that he still loved her so much and that he just wanted for things to go back the way they were.

“Sir?” His receptionist called out to him, forcing him to look away from the photo. “You’re late for your meeting with red riot. He’s waiting for you on the 6th floor.” She handed him a clipboard, her fingers lingering on his oak wood desk. Standing in front of him in a provocative way, trying to get his attention.

Bakugo looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to why she was trying to act sexy around him. It wasn’t like it’ll work or anything, he knew damn well what she was thinking and he wasn’t amused at all. He stood up from his chair and walked past her, completely ignoring her advances and thanked her with a low hum. He left his office with a scowl on his face and with his thoughts consumed by y/n, picturing her smile in his head.

After a well deserved shower, a warmish meal and changing into a clean pair of leggings, a t shirt and an over-sized hoodie, y/n found herself sitting on her sofa again, waiting for her phone to recharge after using it the whole night. She began to stretch her muscles out of boredom, hearing the satisfying clicks of her joints fill the quiet and empty room. She let out a long sigh of satisfaction, feeling less tense now that some of her many knots in her muscles were relived. After a few more minutes of sitting there quietly, she got up from her seat and began stretching other parts of her body some more, starting from her legs and gradually working her way up towards her neck. She began to feel more energized as she kept moving around her living room, With this sudden rush of energy she had, she decided to start doing some workouts starting with push ups after moving her coffee table to make more room for her exercises. Working out up to a point where she had completely forgotten about her phone.

Y/n raided her cupboards for the fifth time, in disbelief that she had no more rice left, upset that she couldn’t make her egg fried rice that she had been craving since her shower. Pissed that she actually had to go out to buy some rice from the store. She let out a loud groan of frustration, pleased that she lived alone so she could scream and shout to her hearts content.

Picking up her keys from her counter and her wallet, she left her house for the first time in 4 days. Unaware of how shitty her timing was.

The bell rung as she opened the door with little effort, giving a small smile to the shopkeeper behind the counter and quickly glancing up to the surveillance screen that was hanging at the top of the store. She went down the aisles and scanned over the products that were placed on the shelves ever so neatly. humming to herself, leaving her shabby apartment felt nice every once in a while. Opening the refrigerator door to where the cartons of milk were, she took out one carton and continued her search. Paying no attention to the sound of the door opening and somebody walking in. 

“Afternoon ma’am!” the voice sounded chipper and enthusiastic. She’s definitely heard it before. 

“Oh my God! I cant’t believe this! You! You’re in my store. I’m a huge fan sir really i am!” The shopkeeper cheered, sounding happier than ever.

“Please, there’s no need for the formality”

Y/n’s body froze after recognizing the familiar voice, her grip on the milk carton tightened. There was no way in hell this was happening to her right now. She didn’t want to believe what horrible luck she had. 

Denki Kaminari. Also known as Chargebolt. Former classmate and close friend of her ex Katsuki Bakugo. 

Y/n glanced up to the camera slowly, so she could plan out her quickest form of escape without being spotted. He stood by the entrance, talking to the lady behind the counter and was in the middle of taking a picture with her. If she planned this properly, she should be able to buy what she needed and leave inconspicuously.

The conversation she picked up on so far from them both was him being in the area just for today to do some patrols and quickly needing a bottle of water and maybe some meatbuns. 

Her hood couldn’t cover up her whole face but it covered up enough for her to go unnoticed. She watched the screen closely and waited for him to move from his spot so she could go to pay. Once he moved towards the snacks section, she swerved her way around the aisle, already pulling out her wallet to pay for her items as quickly as possible. 

After reaching the counter and dropping the milk and rice on the counter top with shaky hands, y/n fumbled with her wallet and was prepared to pull out any note as long as she could get out of there quickly. Now it was just up to how quickly this lady was prepared to attend her. 

To make things worse, she was fixated on the picture she took with chargebolt. Oh come on please just hurry the fuck up. she tapped her fingers aggressively on the counter trying to get her attention back on her. 

“oh sorry about that miss. Would you like a bag?” 

“Yes” Y/n’s response was short with a hint of irritation in her voice. 

“No problem.” The employee began preparing a bag to place her items in. She may have been fast but for y/n, she wasn’t fast enough. Soon, Denki was lined up behind her, meatbuns and waterbottle in hand. 

“Oh did you want a picture too?” He asked, unaware of the other person in the store with him.

Cocky much?  

“No. I’m fine” Y/n tried her hardest to speak as low and as quickly as possible so that he wouldn’t be able to recognize her. 

Denki stood surprised, it was rare for him to find a fan that wouldn’t want a picture with him. “Oh okay” He took a look at her hoodie, recognizing the pattern at the back. “Hey i had a friend that used to wear the exact same-”

“That’ll be 500 yen.” The cash register chimed. 

Before he could finish his sentence, Y/n pulled out a 5000 yen note from her wallet, slammed it onto the counter and rushed out of the store with a quick and rushed thanks.

With the way she moved so fast, both Denki and the assistant stood shocked at the unusual behavior of that customer. “She forgot her change.”

Denki grew suspicious. This unknown female that wouldn’t look at him, her rushed behavior and her hoodie that looked an awful lot like y/n’s? It had to have been her. His suspicions got the better of him and he couldn’t pass up this oppurtunity. “I’ll go give it to her” And with that he took the change and followed her. Keeping his distance in case anything went down.

Loud shouts were coming from an alleyway nearby, someone was obviously in distress and was in desperate need of help. A man and a woman from what Denki could make out.

He peered his head around the corner and saw the hooded customer held in a tight and uncomfortable embrace from a stranger who had a sharp claw against her face. Taunting her and saying inappropriate things to her. Things like ‘doll’ and ‘sweetheart’. He watched closely at what the woman might do. If this was the y/n he thought it was, then she would have no problem getting herself out of this situation, if it wasn’t then he would step in and help. He just hoped it was her.

She struggled against this mans grasp, trying her hardest to break free from him. “Let go you bastard!” She screamed, prying one of her arms free.

This was it. he thought. Just one arm needed to activate her quirk.

They didn’t call her the knockout hero for nothing. Her quirk allowed her to make any person blackout if she could just place her fingers against their temple, which releases a chemical that connects to all the neurons of that persons brain and causes it to get scrambled enough for them to pass out. 

Denki couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear, this new found discovery was the best thing he had encountered so far. He couldn’t believe his eyes, one of his closest friends that went missig to years ago was standing right in front of him. The hero that everyone had been looking for, ws now here in the same alleyway as him. He couldn’t wait to tell everyone.

Y/n huffed out a few shaky breaths before picking up her bag and began making her way out of the alleyway. She was stopped in her tracks when she felt two strong arms grab her by the shoulders and caused her t urn around, a loud gasp escaping her lips along with her heart rate to increase again. 

“I knew it” Denki said breathlessly, his eyes scanning every inch of her body, hands firm on her shoulders and a smile wide on his lips. “You’re alive! You’re okay! Holy shit. Holy shit I can’t believe this.”

Y/n stood in shock and fear. How the fuck did she get in this situation? what was she going to do? how did this happen? So many questions flooded her mind, each and every one of them scaring her even more. She didn’t know what to do. She was too scared to face them now. She Couldn’t face them now. And she was not about to face any of them now. 

Run 

Without a second thought, Y/n shoved Denki’s hands off of her, threw her bag in his face to slow him down and began running towards her apartment, taking the main road she she knew more people would recognize him and give her a better chance of escape.

“Y/n! Wait!” 

[philcreateddan]

I found you thinking about me

title: I found you thinking about me

words: 2k

warnings: none

the windows cleaner rushed au nobody asked for but I still wrote after reading it at @antiphannie ‘s blog

it’s 2am so I won’t feel responsible if there is a typo or the plot doesn’t make sense maybe it will in the morning idk 

In retrospective he should have seen it coming. When his mom had phoned him with a cheering voice, a tone a bit too high, that should have been his first clue. The “meeting” she enthusiastically, too enthusiastically, sold him with his uncle should have been his second clue. The complete obviation of his financial situation during the whole conversation his third.

In retrospective, Dan should have known his mom had arranged him a job interview but he fell for it anyway.

Now it was too late.

Way too late because he is already flustered and his uncle (Al? diminutive of what he doesn’t remember) is very fast while explaining the job he has in mind for him. There is a moment of sheer panic where Al the uncle seems to consider the idea of having Dan as an actual part of the construction on the last apartment. His face must have been enough for the idea to die just as quick and at least Dan breathes in the certainty he won’t accidentally throw a hammer into someone’s eye.

He is waved goodbye with an hour for the next day and that is how Dan ends up getting a part time job cleaning windows.

The building his uncle is working on is not as big. Nine floors, the top one being renovated due a plumbing problem which must mean a nightmare for the other floors, Dan thinks. Most of the walls have gigantic windows and balconies, their fence also of glass. And those are Dan’s job.

For ten convenient pounds the hour Dan puts on a  fluorescent yellow implements of security and with a few explanations of how to clean in the least amount of time, starts at the fourth floor. He has been given the floors of below while someone else was in charge of the top ones. Dan suspects his uncle has been part of that unfair measure but he wasn’t going to complain.

The scissor lift sounds and shakes and Dan is glad that of many of his fears, height isn’t one of them. The lift stops on the balcony of the fourth level and he cleans the glass fence first. Mr. Miyagi in mind, M.I.A. blasting on his ears he finishes quite fast then proceeds to jump into the balcony to clean the windows. And almost trips over a golden pig.

Dan recovers his balance before falling into what seems to be a soon to be tree and that is when he takes a moment to look at the balcony. What has been put on it by the owner. Apart from the golden pig of doom, at least a dozen of plants, and the too big to be a houseplant one, in pots of different colors and on the opposite corner, right between a chair and a coffee table, a cock. The rooster figurine looking completely off on cement instead of grass.

Again Dan has to recover in order to do his job. Whoever lives there, he thinks disappointed of the closed curtains, doesn’t have taste at all.

The rest of the day goes by fluidly, no other balcony the same but neither as shocking as the first one. It’s early enough for most of them to still have their curtains closed and some of them are not even home which is a relief. His arms are sore and he is asked to come back next week which is good because he needs the money but his unused muscles are already screeching in pain by the time he has to handshake his uncle.

The week goes by in a blink and the scissor lift guy recognizes him enough to wave and smile. Dan smiles and half bows and keeps walking by mind kicking himself for being so weird. Tyler, the creator is his companion this time and he is too immersed lip singing to notice at first that the curtains are open.

Dan steps on the balcony carefully this time. Nods the golden pig of doom and stops when he turns to the first window. The kitchen is visible. A few more plants are there and at least three boxes of cereal which must mean a family lives there. Explaining the weird figurines. If he gets a bit closer he can almost see the magnetic figures on the fridge.

But he is freezed on spot because there is someone in the kitchen. Someone who hasn’t seen him yet and is preparing a cup of coffee.

Dan considers for a moment moving swiftly to the other extreme of the balcony and start there instead but of course he is anything but swift and the movement alerts the person inside. There is a shared moment of panic when their eyes meet because Dan feels his skin heating with embarrassment and the other person looks like a scared deer in front of a car.

He reminds himself that he is working and should go on like the professional  window cleaner he is so he takes a few breaths and focuses his sight on the immediate bright thing his peripheral vision has been focusing on to give the man some privacy.

Golden pig of doom owner is wearing bright yellow emojis pajamas.  

Dan blinks a couple of times but before he can contain himself a snort erupts from his chest. That is, by far, the most hideous layer of clothing he has ever seen. Covers his hand and looks back up at the guy who follows his gaze and blushes. For a second there Dan thinks this guy is going to close the curtain, complain to his uncle and he will lose his job just like that. Ugly pajamas rolls his eyes instead and exits the kitchen.

Dan laughs a little then, taking out the implements to clean the windows after wasting so much time already when a voice nearby startles him.

“They are cozy alright? And I will not be laughed at by a possible burglar this early in the morning.” His voice has a subtle yet present northern scent Dan would have laughed at if he had not been taken by surprise like that.

“I-I’m not a… I mean…” he points to the lift waiting for him and the pajama guy doesn’t react.

“I know. It was a joke.”

“Oh.”

“I doubt a thief would wear a security helmet.” He says on the same monotone tone.

Dan looks up being reminded of the stupid helmet that makes his hair looks worst than a drunk bird nest afterwards and says “Right.”

The guy seems to think for a moment, rubs the pinch of his nose and enters the flat again.

Dan wants to flee. He starts cleaning the windows at speed of sound and considers asking his uncle to maybe clean every floor but this one when his peripheral vision alerts him once more of pajama guy. Looks to his right and a mug is handed his way.

“Sorry. I am not an early morning kind of person and without caffeine in my blood I am a grumpy rude white version of Hulk.” He says with a kinder voice already, his face a little heated but less stoic.

Dan takes the mug out of inertia. “Bruce Banner is white though.” He retorts mind kicking himself again so he takes a sip of the coffee to shut his mouth instead. Too hot and strong for his likes.

The guy lifts an eyebrow but shrugs “I believe my skin is whiter than his. My Hulk form would be a nice pastel green.”

Dan almost sputters.

“Guess Hulk is the definition of grumpy anyway. But you get the point.”

“Not laugh at your pajamas before you have coffee. Got it.”

“It was either this ones or nothing at all so they saved us from a different kind of awkward moment.” He says taking a slurp of his maybe second cup and this time Dan does choke a little with the bitter beverage. “Or not awkward. Either way it would have been a moment worth recording on camera.”

Dan’s jaw probably disconnects from his mouth for a moment there. He notices then how the guy is wearing glasses and the just woke up quiff and how they are almost the same height and a bit of stumble on his chin and Dan believes this could be the start of a porno. He would though. He so would.

“I’m scaring you enough for today. It’s the lack of coffee, I’ll leave now. If you need anything let me know.”

Dan doesn’t look but he could swear the golden pig is laughing at him.

The following week he tells, Tom; scissor lift guy, he wants to start at the bottom and Tom says that’s not as practical but doesn’t complain.

Ivy Ocean is singing in his ears and this time Dan has come prepared to not be taken back by cute ugly pajamas guy (a nickname his friend Louise has laughed about for at least five minutes) if he is there again.

As soon as the machinery stops he notices something on the coffee table. His curiosity takes the best of him and he jumps in right away.

A bowl full of cereal, one glass of milk and one cup of coffee. Dan doubts his half time job allows him a thirty minutes recess for breakfast so he looks at the note next to the bowl.

Apologies for last week :( Not my best behavior. If you need anything ask Piggy, it knows where the bathroom is ^-^

–Phil

Dan takes the glass of milk and given he doesn’t have a pen with him, commits a crime on his profession. Foams a part and instead of cleaning it, writes on it. Messes it up a few times so he goes for short sentences instead.

Thanks. Can’t eat that much at work. Piggy bullies me >_> Cellphones are a thing :3

–Dan

The week after he brings a pack of notepads and a pen and low hopes because, as Louise had said “He could be married or living with his mother or worst; be straight! Dan for fucks sake at least get in his house and check the insides of his drawers before anything else!”

Phil is there already, sitting on his chair this time. Two mugs on the table. One apparently empty.

“I think I did a better job cleaning my window last week Dan.” He greets with a smile. He isn’t wearing his glasses this time and his hair seems to have been accommodated to look not as just woke up-ish. Dan still finds his face fascinating.

“Difficult to clean and eat at the same time.”

“I’ll never offer you cereal again then.”

Dan starts to foam up the windows “Maybe your roommate will.” He says, testing the waters.

For a moment Phil doesn’t answer so Dan looks at him. Phil’s eyes are wide open glancing inside his flat. “I live alone so if last week you met someone here it was either an inverse kind of thief or I should call an exorcist. Stop laughing!”

To be fair Dan is laughing so hard he composes himself before it turns more embarrassing. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t meet anyone, I only assumed… sorry but your face!” Phil puts a hand on his heart and sighs.

“Oh my God. I just moved in I don’t know if there is an entity polite enough to let cute window cleaners in when I’m away. Next time just ask me what you want to know.”

Dan’s still smiling and somehow manages to keep foaming when he says “Alright then. What made you buy a real tree for a balcony?”

Dan comes down at least an hour later and Tom gives him a look, tells him next week he should try to be faster or they’ll get complains. With a new contact on his phone and new information to give to Louise, Dan assured Tom next week he’ll be earlier than ever.

Weeks go by between texts and calls and video calls and working hours with Phil cleaning each leaf of his houseplants while Dan does his own job.

Between jokes and anecdotes and questions.

Between Phil learning Dan is a philosophy student who enjoys conferences more than actual classes and would love to try theater if he weren’t afraid of falling off stage so much.

Between Dan learning Phil is four years older and works with a friend called PJ making games and it is the first time he can afford such a big flat without the help of his parents.

Between Dan realizing this person is one he doesn’t want to let go and that maybe Phil wants to keep him near just as much.

In retrospective he should have seen it coming. When Tom winked and told him to say hi to fourth floor guy. When the golden pig of doom was on the table instead of the floor, Frank Ocean singing in his ear the moment he saw the window covered in foam with Phil’s signature letter on it.

Wanna go on a date tonight? No emoji s pj’s  ;3

–Phil

In retrospective, Dan should have known. But he doesn’t care, because he writes underneath it just as fast and even pets the damn pig.

Finally. Txt me details. Mushy dork

–Dan

[ethicallysourcedhumanmeat]

Lost Boys: Day Four: 4

[ < ][First][ > ]

[Masterpost][AO3]

She had to put the kiss to the back of her mind. She didn’t want to, she wanted to fixate on it, she wanted to find his fan site and google his address and, oh god do not become that person Noelle.  But then there was whatever had Seven so spooked.

She’d gotten the impression that he was high strung but he didn’t seem prone to exaggerating when it came to member safety.  For all his jokes he seemed to take this seriously and she doubted he’d have waited this long to ask her to clean the camera’s she’d smeared grease on without reason.

The way he’d asked her to see if someone would go with her to walk her dog, she tried her best not to worry.  Her mind drifted back and forth between the kiss, and the mysterious danger.  She grabs a bag, clips the leash on Darryl, pulls a hoodie over her cardigan and slips on a pair of boots.  The elevator is empty this time of night and so are the halls.

She sighs, you’ve got a big fucking dog, she tells herself as she steps into the light Seven had told her to stay in.  “Come on buddy,” she says through her teeth.  “If you want privacy you’re gonna have to learn to use the toilet.”

Darryl wags his tail and lets out a quiet boof.

It’s not long before he does a few circles and stares at her until she turns her back to him. “Fine,” she mumbles, “as long as you know I’m not joking about the toilet.

*

Luciel watches Elle take the dog out right away.  He watches them stand with their back to the CCTV bouncing on their toes to stay warm, they make eye contact with the camera when they turn around and he swears they give a subtle finger gun at him.

They change as soon as they’re back in the apartment, loose t-shirt coming into view in the first camera they clean, stepping back, bicycle shorts come into view.  Face washed free of makeup and hair loose he watches Elle move to the other. It doesn’t take long before the three smeared camera’s are clear and focused.

He watches Elle curl up on the couch, the big dog they call Darryl climbs up behind them and rests his head on their legs.  He can see them enter the messenger and he opens his own chat, lurking to monitor the conversation.  He’s a little surprised to see V enter the conversation but he watches the way Elle reacts, both in the chat and on the camera.

Their posture changes immediately, they sat up cross legged on the couch, and they frowned.  They deliberately ask questions they know the answer to.  He lets the chat play out before he calls.  Keeping careful attention on how V responds, but he seems oblivious.

It’s obvious to Luciel that Elle, or Noelle, is clearly testing V, and he did not pass.  V is oblivious and Luciel feels like he is in the dark, a feeling becoming uncomfortably familiar in the last 4 days.  Elle makes eye contact with the nearest camera but doesn’t answer their phone.  He watches them put their phone on the table in front of them and walk into the kitchen.  He watches them across the screens, they rummage through cupboards and when the phone stops ringing they turn to the nearest camera and make an again gesture.

He redials and watches them carry an armload of junk food and what looks like a pint can of beer back to the couch with them.  They crack the beer and answer the phone.

“The nerve of some people,” he laughs into the phone, “telling me I need to eat better, look at you.”

“So the real danger was my shitty eating habits all along?”

“Ugh,” he groans into the phone, “you’re just going to call me out like this.”

“Jihyun has no idea I’m here does he?”

There it is again, the way Elle says Vs real name.  Like there’s something he’s missed.  He hadn’t described Elle to V, he’s not even sure how much he told him, V hadn’t asked for much.  He trusted Luciel’s information, trusted his judgement, but even if Luciel ignored whatever Elle was implying V should have realized he knew them by now.

The bigger question was why hadn’t Luciel found any connection between them.

“Seven,” Elle was still waiting.

“I don’t-  I uh-  I don’t know,” he admits.  “Jesus this is fucking stupid but I hadn’t even considered that you knew him, knew him, I mean I guess because of Jumin but—”

There’s a snort from the other end of the line.  “I thought you were a hacker god, come on man.”

“I know,” he groans.  “This is just the tip of the fucked up iceberg Elle.”

“Noelle,” they correct. “call me Noelle ok?  Elle was just me trying to be anonymous, this seems kind of personal, you should call me by my name.”

“Noelle, there’s something weird going on here.”

“Yeah,” they laugh.  “I mean it started out weird so stands to reason.”

“Stop,” he snaps and then takes a breath.  “Stop taking this so well, ok.  It’s fucked up you should be pissed.”

“Seven, I’m freaked out but I trust you.  You’re a weird fucking gremlin of a man but, I don’t know, you seem to be the only person taking this seriously so just tell me what’s going on.”

Trust, “Don’t,” he starts but changes his mind.  “Ok, that’s a terrible choice but we’ll run with it.  I’m still working on tracking whoever led you to us but you have a tail.”

“A tail?”

“Two people, men I think, and a third they feed info to.  I can’t tell if they’re waiting for you when you leave the apartment or if they already know where you’re going.”

“That’s why you want me back here then?”

“I’m already set up to monitor this entire building, and I have, well there are backups in place.”

“Why are they watching me?  I mean even if I’m some kind of bait wouldn’t they be more interested in this place, whatever you have hidden in here?”

“I don’t know,” he groans.  “I would have thought that the information in the apartment would be what they wanted.  But you’re more than bait or they wouldn’t watch you so closely.   Besides your record is cleaner than almost every single member of the RFA.”

“So do you think it’s Jihyun or Jumin then?”

“That,” he snaps again.  “What do you have to do with V?”

He’s been searching, the whole time he talks to her, talking around in circles trying to find something, some connection, he’s missed even just a photo of Noelle and V.  Of course V and Jumin have been friends since they were kids, V would know Noelle but if they’re close enough that Noelle expects they could be bait for V, why can’t he find a single thing.  The harder he looks the clearer it is that the information has been removed.

Noelle doesn’t answer him.  He watches them on the monitor, they put the phone down and drag their hands down their face, rub at their eyes and stare directly into the camera and pick up the phone. 

“Me too,” he sighs.  “Yeah.”

A snort.

“It’s like it’s all gone,” he says softly.  “The deeper I dig the farther away I get.”

“Is it,” Noelle inhales, “you did a thing, the old articles about Jumin and I are gone, did that, I don’t know.”

He stops for a minute and changes direction, the worm he released definitely did not do what Noelle thinks, but that doesn’t mean that someone else, someone with similar tactics to his, like the someone who hacked into his social app.

“Noelle, I have an idea but while I try this can you maybe tell me why someone might use you against V?”

“I mean,” there’s a stutter.  “I, it’s not that I think they would, it’s just,” Noelle sighs.  “I mean who else right?  It has to be either Jumin or Jihyun.  I haven’t talked to Jihyun since my father drug me out of his house when I was 17.”

Luciel stops typing. “What?”

“He was my boyfriend,” she almost whispers, “for like three years, so when the old man told me my father was coming I went to the Kim’s and I didn’t come home, and I didn’t tell him why, and then my my father showed up.  I mean I could tell them embarrassing stories about him but he never tried to contact me after that, not even when,” she trails off.

“When you tried to kill yourself,” he finishes for them.

“Yeah that.”

*

Noelle draws her knees up to her chest on the couch and lets herself slow fall sideways.  Why would anyone think she would be good bait for Jihyun.  Jumin would have made sense, you didn’t need Seven’s resources to find out they were close despite the distance they kept each other at. Anyone at C&R with too much time on their hands and access to her records could have found enough to connect them, and if she was being followed, they’d have even more.

But someone had gone through enough trouble to remove any evidence that she’d known Jihyun as more than Jumin’s best friend.  She hated trying to put into words what she was to him.  All she wanted to say was nothing.

She was still in bed, still in his bed, in his tshirt.  Plush blankets pulled up to her chin.  He’d tucked them in tight around her when he got up and they’d laughed.  She hadn’t told him that she was leaving, hadn’t told him that her father was taking her away.  He knew about the rumors, told her they were stupid, they’d blow over.

She wanted to believe him, tucked tight in his bed, watching him at his computer working on photos he’d taken the night before.  He leans back in his chair and brushes his blue hair out of his face.

“Every photo of you is too perfect to adjust,” he laughs and moves to the next one.

She blushes and hides her face, it was a joke.  Something he’d said since the first time she’d accidentally stepped into frame, before they were even a thing.  “Even if it’s just your toe, I’ll keep it forever.”

His parents were out again, maybe if they’d have come home it would have gone differently, Mrs. Kim always stood up to her father but if the Chief couldn’t do anything what could the Kim’s have really done.  Her phone had rung too late, she was still untangling herself from the nest he’d made her when the house had shaken with the force of the slamming door.

“That’s not right,” Jihyun had frowned at her.  But her heart was already sinking and she was tripping over herself looking for her pants.

“Noelle, are you ok?”

She was grabbing her phone, throwing the blankets on the bed.  There was someone walking heavily up the stairs when Jihyun stood up.

Jumin was yelling when she answered the phone, arguing with his father, she could hear her mother in the background.

“What are you doing?” Jihyun asked her.

She didn’t answer; she’d abandoned the search for her pants and was pushing the screen out of his window.  She wasn’t going to go, he couldn’t take her, she was 17, she wouldn’t go with him, and she wouldn’t go back to being a thing, to being a product he could sell.  No one could make her do that.

She would run away.

Jihyun grabs her by the hand, she’s almost out the window, the roof of the patio is right below her, it’s only a foot or two below her feet but the door to his room clatters against her guitar and her father’s quiet voice simmers behind her.

In her memories the voice is booming, all encompassing but she knows it was always cool and collected regardless of the things he said.

“Jihyun, let go of me!” she shouts trying to pull out of the window.

“Where are you going?”  She doesn’t remember who asked

Then he lets go and she feels her toes touch the roof and she tastes freedom for half a second before she’s yanked upwards.  Her father doesn’t speak while he forces her back inside her boyfriend’s room and when she makes one last ditch effort to make herself too big to come back through the bedroom window he drops one hand.

She struggles harder then thrashing and screaming, trying to make him lose his grip, drop her, but it only takes a second for him to bring his palm crashing down against her cheek.

No one comes to her rescue, no Jumin in a rage, no Jihyun with that dangerous look, not Mrs. Kim, or the Old Man.  She doesn’t want to cry, doesn’t want to be that girl anymore but who else is left?  She doesn’t remember what her father said when she was standing on the floor in Jihyun’s room.

Jihyun is sitting in his desk chair, it’s slightly askew, more in front of the closet than his desk and he looks shaken, watching her climb through the window.  “What did you do to him,” she whispers.

She doesn’t remember what he said.

She remembers what she said.

“Please,” she begs.  “Don’t make me,” she sobs.  “Please,” she cries finding Jihyun’s eyes, “please.”

Another hand crashing against her face, she knows it’s coming this time, she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t drop eye contact with Jihyun and he stands up then.  “Don’t take her,” he says but his eyes lack the conviction she’d seen when Jumin got into fights.

Her father scowls and she can feel blood pooling in the corner of her mouth.

“Please,” she begs.

“Noelle,” Seven practically shouts her out of her memories.

“Sorry, what?”

“Is there more just an old boyfriend?  He’s never mentioned you,” he clears his throat,” I mean I’m sorry but if you were someone who could be used against him,” he trails off.

“I’m as confused as you are,” she admits.  “Jumin has been trying to convince me to call him for the last few years, he never speaks to me when he’s in the office, and as far as I know he never tried to call me.”

She can hear typing on the other end of the line, furious, purposeful typing. “Can you think of anything?”

“He wasn’t anyone then,” she says.  “Just a rich kid, he got his first real camera the year we started dating, his parents where rarely home, his sister was away at school.  Jumin and I spent a lot of time there because there were no adults.  He was weird and sweet and he always had my back, always had Jumin’s back, the three of us were inseparable.”

“What about something, I don’t know personal?”

“I don’t know, we were teenagers,” she groans, “he had a nice car, he liked to drive then, we fucked in it when we couldn’t get rid of Jumin.”

Seven snorts.  “Ok, too personal.”

“I don’t know what you want, you know what he’s like.  Probably.”

“I do,” he says and she can hear the wheels turning.

“He probably thinks that after everything letting me go was better.”

There’s no response, just typing on the other end of the line.

“What did you tell him about me?”

“Not much, he didn’t ask, just the important stuff.”

“What qualifies as important?”

“Were you suspect, were you safe, was there anything in your background check?  Just security stuff.”

“You think he’s involved don’t you,” she says softly.

He doesn’t answer at first and she hears the typing end. “I don’t know, I was starting to think so but then, wouldn’t he know about you?”

“If he is involved, the missing information about us is suspect though isn’t it?  That would make us look like we’re working on it together.”

“That is one theory,” Seven agrees.  “You are definitely suspect, but you’ve been upfront, I mean I’m not ruling it out, I’m not putting all my trust in you,” the typing starts again.  “The other option is that V is up to something with someone, and whatever it is, they have him in the dark.

“Can he see the security feed for the apartment?”

“Not, uh, not exactly,” Seven stutters.

“Can you get him to,” she stops, “can you show him something, something that identifies me?  I don’t know like get him to realize who I am without exactly telling him it’s me?”

“Yeah,” he says softly.  “Yeah I think, yeah, that will work.”