#anyway (slams open my notebook) a comic----

[ghoul-haunted]

the borgias s1e1, s3e1

[circeyoru]

Unwanted Soul = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

The Request

Part 1 (here) — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3

You weren’t a powerful Overlord nor were you the weaker ones to have their souls owned by other demons to survive in this hellhole. You’re merely capable enough to get by your everyday life. Like always, you’d stay clear from any of ongoing battles or powerful demons that were out and about. Your keen 6th sense to pinpoint potential dangers was always your go-to during your outings

You kind of treated Hell as your paradise to shut-in in your room and read all the comics you want plus watch all the TV shows you want. You were one of the rare demons that get connection to the Earth realm where you can enjoy the guilty pleasures you spend your days doing. Of course, your death was a suicide as you saw no life ahead of you

But you really really should have stayed in that day. It started out as any other day in Hell and you were on your way to the usual supermarkets for the junk food and drink you love. Normally, it was uneventful, until you caught sight of a dying demon, no, ‘wounded’ would be the right word since demons would only demon by angelic blades, even you knew that. Still, the demon was heavily wounded

It must have been a good few minutes since you caught weaker demons attempting to take advantage of the weakened demon as easy prey. You immediately took out your notebook, scribbing a phase before tearing it out and blow on it lightly. The page turned to white sparkles before taking shape of a row of angelic spears around you, it launched at the weak demons before they could do anything to the wounded one

You took went to the wounded demon quickly as your spears faded to nothing after doing its damage. You held his limb hand and closed your eyes, visualizing your cozy apartment and the ground swallowed the two of you up. In the blink of an eye, you were back home, sighing in relief

Not even a moment, you were knocked to the ground and pinned down by your shoulders and thigh. You struggled a bit before you realized it was the wounded demon that was pinning you down with radio dials for eyes

Without thinking, you reached into your coat pocket and took out a piece of paper, slamming it onto his face and blew at it. The paper faded to nothing but sparks then the demon stilled before closing his eyes and slumping forward onto you. Unconscious. But you invited someone you shouldn’t have into your home

This had to be Alastor, the Radio Demon

You grimaced, eying Alastor on top of you sleeping like a harmless deer. You thought of throwing him back out into the streets, but you didn’t exactly have the heart to. You came to the conclusion of healing him as fast as you could then sending him on his merry way! Yes!

Noooo!!! Why is he still here!?!?!?!?!?!?!??????!!!!!

“My dear, you really should be taking more care of your diet. This is hardly filling or healthy for you.” Alastor eyed the cup noodle you were about to open up like you were holding trash “But it’s fast and gets my hunger sated.” You eyed back, “It’s not like I’m feeding you this. I cook for your meals anyways…” You continued roaming around the kitchen, rubbing a fork, and setting a timer for your food. Ignoring the closeness of Alastor. “As long as it doesn’t concern you, it’ll be fine. I’ll treat you better since you just healed up. These are my own indulgence.” “And I appreciate your hospitality, dear, truly, I do. The matter at hand is your consumption!” Alastor grabbed your precious cup noodle lunch away, “I shall take over your meals from now on.”

Yes, you have fully healed Alastor and he’s back to full health. No, you didn’t tell him to stay. In fact, the moment his wounds were all healed, you showed him the open door, waiting for him to leave. He didn’t exactly let you make him leave. He said he was staying to repay your kindness, but all he was doing was inserting him into your afterlife and really making it Hell

At first, he praised your unique power to summon anything you write with a gentle blow, especially the part where you put him to sleep the first time. Then he urged you to make a name for yourself, but you really just want to shut yourself in your room and indulge in your time-wasting hobby. You told him off and shut yourself in your room, but he would just appear through the shadows and apologise, saying he’d leave the matter

When that whole business was done, Alastor got worse. You’re positive some other demons would love to be treated this way, but you’re just weirded out. It started out small, Alastor making meals like he said, shifting your schedule to a healthier one. Then taking care of your needs whenever you are about to do something. Even as simple as getting a glass of water

Then it escalated to touches. A handholding here, maybe he’s lean into you while reading. Or he’ll lay next to you in your own bed. Shift closer to you while on the couch. Stare at you while you were busy reading manga or watching animes and shows. Plus you could feel him staring at you while you sleep from the shadows even though you told him not to

But the most unnerving thing was when you would go restock on your food and other supplies. Alastor being the gentleman would carry and pay for your stuff. That you’re used to and didn’t care since either way, you had your methods. It was what happens during the two of you walking

“Alastor…” You hugged your coat tighter as your lips pressed together tightly from the scene, your eyebrows furrowed from the tense situation you were in. You had just left the shop to get new books and volumes, only to be met with such a sight. “What…” “My darling, your timing is perfect.” Alastor threw away the torn body of what used to be a demon. The street was covered with a layer of thick red and black blood. Hellborns and sinners alike were all brutally ripped away by the fearsome Radio Demon. “These pest dares to look at you wrongly, surely they deserve a good, limb pulling.” He walked over to you with his ever-present smile, offering his clean hand. “Shall we head home, My Doe?” You feel yourself tense as you firmly told him, “Just because they stare at me a little long and spat out rude remarks, it’s not an excuse or reason to torture them like this. I’m… I don’t exactly mind unless they attack.” Alastor grabbed your hand and kissed it, “Dearie, why give them the chance to harm you when I can prevent it? You can name and point fingers, I’ll be your killer.”

Trapped was what you felt at home and anywhere, as long as Alastor was there, you didn’t like it. Those sweet romantic gestures and attention from him that you would only see in your books and shows left a bad taste in your mouth. 

At the 4th year, however, something changed. Alastor sold his soul to you as the ‘last’ act of pure devotion and loyalty to you. Since the contract was all by your rules, you made use of it

Limit Alastor’s powers because it scares you how much he could do and the destruction he could cause. Forbid him from devouring or owning souls because he does it so easily when he thinks you were wronged in any way. And most importantly, forbid him from disobeying your words, whatever they may be, that way, you can finally have peace

How Alastor was still able to be this unnerving, you didn’t know and you didn’t want to know. Somehow, the contract was something like a declaration that the two of you were romantically involved with ecah other? If it made sense. It didn’t, really

Alastor still stayed with you because he had told you a long time ago that his home was destroyed in a brutal battle, hence why you found him that battered. So you offered yours. You did manage to set some firmer ground rules with the contract’s help. Like no entering your room or throwing away your junk food

Though Alastor still plays a big part in your life just because. You had wanted a lover before, but Alastor had proven how bad a relationship could go, and you two didn’t even established anything! You love fiction, fiction is life or afterlife. You can just drown yourself in the world of fiction and never leave

That’s the basis of your power. It’s like summoning through writing and the faint blow from your lips. You have to be aware of the components though, the hardest to summon was definitely the angel spears. It was the day after extermination and a spear was stuck into a demon, you were curious and took it back with you. You studied it and tested it out, knowing its strength and limitations before actually attempting to summon it. Works well enough, since it was easy to study

In the blink of an eye, 7 years had already passed. While Alastor was out on buying new ingredients for your celebration dinner of surviving another extermination, you caught the Princess of Hell and her promotion on the ‘Happy Hotel’. A place that welcomes anyone, a place that gives anyone a chance. It sounds lovely, but you didn’t have the mentality and energy to help out

A foolproof plan came to mind. You could, no, should send Alastor there. He loves entertainment! He wouldn’t be bored there! The hotel is much bigger and there’s more people there for him to hang out with. Plus he would definitely get a room there since he’s going to be staying. Even when he disagrees, because you just know he would rather stay by your side, you can use the contract as a last resort

“My dear!” Alastor greeted the moment he came back from his little shopping. He gave you a peak on the crown of your head when he walked past you, then headed to the table to place the bags of items down. “Did you hear about that ridiculous plan the Princess told in the picture box? Hahaha! It’s sure to fail! No way in any universe would just a silly and childish thing happen! No, sir!” “I want to help her with it, it sounds like a good plan. It’s better than annual exterminations.” You spoke while coming over to check the things Alastor brought. “But you know I’m more of a home person and not the go-out and help-others type.” “Exactly, dearie, we need not care for such fantasy.” Alastor nodded along. “That’s why you’re going in my place.” You stated firmly without blinking or shifting in your spot, at the growing static, you looked up to see Alastor’s eyes turned to radio dial. Very rarely are those directed at you since he swore he’d never do you harm or wish you harm. “You’ll go and help the Princess to make it a success.” Alastor’s eyes shifted back to normal, narrowing as he asked, “Till how long, my dear?” You had to control yourself to hide a smile as you spoke, “For as long as it takes of course. You can’t rush redemption, right? And it’s the first of its kind too.” The static grew again, you knew Alastor was getting annoyed with such a wish (order) from you. “But this would take a long while. I’d be returning to check on you, yes?” “Oh, no. Can’t interrupt your work.” You said, carrying your pile of snacks to your little comfort corner and dropping it with huff, there was a skip in your step as you returned back to the table. “You can’t come back here nor see me when in the service of the Princess. Well, you can see me when I’m the one to approach you or call for you, that’s the only exception.” Alastor would have a frown on by now if it weren’t for his insistence on the power of smiles, “Who would take care of you? Who would watch over you? Who would tend to you? Who would protect you while I’m gone, sweetheart?” You laughed, “Don’t be so dramatic. I can handle myself. It’s just like before I met you,” You didn’t miss the radio crackling like it broke connection, “But this time, I have you as a backup should I need.”

Making Alastor leave you wouldn’t have been possible without the contract and the fact that his soul was yours to control. Very pushy but you had to do what you had to, it was all to regain that quiet and isolated shut-in life you love. Never have you missed the silence in your home and the void of a watchful gaze all around you

You squealed and smiled brightly, “Time to chill and laze around!”

Oh how the Radio Demon was fuming as he made his way to that ratchaed hotel. He shouldn’t have let you know of such a news. If that inferno picture box was broken, then you wouldn’t know. No, you have your phone, so that makes no difference. Maybe it was the fact that that cannibal chef was gone that Charlie had time to promote that idea of hers? 

This would be his first appearance since 7 years ago. He kept his presence gone from the public eye just to hide his connection and fancy towards you. If demons knew you had his soul, who knows what danger you’d be in? He can’t let that happen to you. No, you were the kind soul that saved him and gave him a place to belong. Truly belong

Never had he felt such a sense of comfort around someone so lazy and chill. The fact that you were average but powerful in your right that you humble yourself to blend in with others. To live your afterlife as you please and like without a care in the world. So long as your interest was sated

He just couldn’t help but want to be yours. You deserve it, after all

But now. Now he had to provide his attention and care to some princess’ dream! What joke is this?!

Were you sending him away because he wasn’t strong enough? You limited his powers to see if he could still be as strong as before. Was that the reason? What other demon held your attention? As far as he knew. You have no interest in forming connections. He was the first one you actually cared for and hosted your home for! You don’t even own other souls and you’re strong!

He was your only one. Only!

In front of the hotel, he knocked rhythmically, waiting patiently for the door to be opened and for him to introduce himself. He’ll show you. “Hel—” The door closed shut in his face before it opened again, “-lo!”

His ears twitched as he heard the ruckus inside. These souls don’t deserve your time and attention spent on them, he’ll deal with the problem like always and return to your side. He’ll show you just how powerful and cruel he is and can be

The door opened again and he introduced himself with his plan in mind. “Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, princess. Quite a pleasure!”

Note: I really really didn't mean to do this so long... I could have put it into 2 parts, but I was too lazy to. There was actually some more I wanna add, but then it will be a literal essay. Anyways~ How you like this one?

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

[blushyeleven]

Tickletober - DAY 5

“I’m not ticklish”

characters: lee!y/n, ler!wednesday

warnings: tickles, light swearing

𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐞 (𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐦)

slam

you shut the wooden door and stormed into your shared dorm. You stomped over to your bed with a pout across your lips. Wednesday sighed and looked up from her desk to see you march over to your white quilted bed, she also noticed you pouting. Wednesday had gotten so use to your temper tantrums, she could practically read you like a book. Although, it wasn’t very difficult. You were easy to read. You liked to think of yourself as an open book. Anyway, Wednesday knew you well enough to also know that this wasn’t a raging tantrum, I fact it was a whiny, toddler like tantrum. It was obvious by the pout drooping from your face. “what happened now y/n?” Wednesday asked with her usual lifeless tone.

You took this as an invite and you dragged your feet over to Wednesdays side of the dorm. “It’s enid!” You responded in your typical whiny voice. Wednesday just carefully listened, knowing this was going to be a time where you start rambling. “She keeps trying to tickle me!” You exclaimed with a small groan. Wednesday clearly wasn’t expecting that, if she could smile.. or laugh.. she would have. “Oh you poor thing, so your here to complain about this mistreatment?” She said with a smirk, almost mocking you. She then reached over to grab a notebook and a pen, looking at you and clearly waiting for you to continue your tangent. “Yes! It’s not fair!” You said grumbling, the pout still prominent on your face to add to your hissy fit.

“Oh no, such an injustice” the goth girl then reached up to pat your head. She then picked up her pen and started pretending to take notes. She was clearly mocking you, you were just to oblivious to see it. You started pacing around to add to the effect of your protest. “Exactly! And do you know what she called me?!” You asked, clearly a rhetorical question. But Wednesday.. who was very clearly finding your bewail amusing, decided to give you an answer “no.. but I bet your gonna tell me” she had an edge of playfulness to her voice, teasing you. “Tickle-able!” You said, your cheeks all in a glow. It was debatable wether it was from irritation or from you being flustered. Either way this was extremely comical to wednesday as she had to fight the smile from appearing on her lips. “Tickle-able? How insensitive, enids practically a bully” she taunted, watching as you continued to pace back and forth and only stopping when you were complaining.

“Literally! Like I’m not! I’m tough and no where near something as childish and stupid as tickle-able” you continued to whinge at Wednesday who was nodding and also continuing to scribble her pen on her lined notebook. “Uh huh, i See, absolutely not tickle-able at all!” She then paused her “note taking” to look up at you with a teasing smirk.

“Don’t smirk at me!” Your cheeks began to grow even more red at the evil look on Wednesdays face.. but you tried to ignore it “I- enid doesn’t even know what she’s talking about! I’m not even ticklish!!” You scoffed, really trying to sell your point. The pigtailed girl rolled her eyes and just kept smirking at you “mhmmm, yeah, not ticklish at all” She echoed before putting her pen and notebook aside. You huffed and crossed your arms. “Yup! Exactly!” “Ah yes, so very un-ticklish. How dare enid make these false accusations against you” she patted your head again, her usual bland and expressionless demeanour had seemed to been replaced with a synthetic and flustering tone. “uh huh! At least your on my side! Enid is just lying to herself! Me? Ticklish?.. what planet is she living on?” You scoffed again. Wednesday was trying her hardest to keep her composure and not snicker at this absolutely ridiculous predicament. “yeah, yeah, she must be deluded to think out of all people.. you.. would be ticklish” (the emphasis on ‘you’ clearly showing that she didn’t believe a word your saying, but you were to caught up in your tangent to realise) you smiled at nodded at Wednesday “at-least somebody agrees with me” you began to calm down from your riot until Wednesday spoke up again..

“Although..” you quirked a brow at her unfinished question. “If what your saying is all true.. which I fully believe it is.. then there’s no harm in me trying.. right?” Her smirk extended further across her face as your eyes widened “w-what?” Was all you could say. Your heart pounding in your chest so hard it would probably be rattling your rib cage. “You see.. if your not ticklish.. I can test it out?” Wednesday questioned, observing you closely and watching the nervous look grow. “n-no! Are you really siding with enid! This Isnt fair!” You tried to protest.. but even you knew there was no escaping your fate. “No, ofcourse not, i just want to prove you right!” Wednesday always had a way of structuring her words to make it seem like she was innocent, when in theory she already had a plan brewing inside her twisted and evil mind. “I- n-no it’s okay..” you backed up slightly as wednesday arose from her chair. “Hm? Why? You seem awfully nervous for somebody who had such a strong claim about not being ticklish..” she raised her eyebrow slightly, her eyes shining with a sadistic glint.

“I- don’t!.. I’ll.. I’ll be mad at you!” You tried to bargain with her..and seeming as that was the best threat you could give to the raven girl. “Oh no.. I’m so scared” she mocked, taking a few steps closer to you. “You should be!” There was a slight wobble in your voice as your cheeks shined a crimson red. “Believe me, I’m terrified” the goth replied “g-good!” You didn’t even have any comebacks.. you were just doing everything you could to prolong the time between you being tickled. “Really shaking in my boots” Wednesdays monotone voice was somehow extremely flustering in this situation.

Your brain didn’t even have time to register a reply before you heard the goth spoke “now what about.. this?” She asked herself as she reached out a pale finger to prod it into your side. You immediately let out a soft squeal that was luckily muffled by the sudden movement of you clasping your hand to your mouth as you flinched backwards “d-don’t!” You stuttered, backing up even further before you felt yourself come up against the wooden wall. “Oh? So you ARE ticklish?..” she asked again.. “no! You just.. scared me!” Your brain was to scrambled to come up with a reasonable (and believable) response. Wednesday then slowly stepped closer so she was directly infront of you. You were backed into the wall, nowhere to move. “Uh huh.. then you should be fine if I do this” she stated before reaching out her black-painted finger to poke you again, this time just under your ribs. “Stohop ihit!” You tried your best to sound intimidating but the fact you batted at her hand and the high-pitched voice was ruining your facade. “I thought you weren’t ticklish at all..” she stated. “Ihim not!” The fact you still were trying to deny it was extremely amusing to the goth girl, as she watched you bite your lip and bring up your hands to protect your sides. “Well, your acting it” She stated before using her hand to fully scribble at your side. “bahahahah!” You cracked, and Wednesday stood their.. feeling very smug about her victory. Although she wasn’t going to stop there..

Wednesdays hand then shot to your ribs, scratching and wiggling her fingers into them causing you to flinch at the feeling and for you to continue your giggle fit. “Ahahahahhahah wehehednesdahahayyy!!” You tilted your head back into the wall, the blaring sound of your squeaky laughter bouncing off the walls. “Well I think it’s pretty safe to say.. Enid was correct” she teased, the smugness dripping from her tone. “Shuhut uhup!” Wednesdays sinister smirk never left her face as she slowly started tapping down your sides.. until she reached your hips. She started squeezing at them vigorously while closely observing your every reaction to take a mental note of your worst spot. Fortunately for you, she hadn’t located it yet.

“Bahahahahhaha nohohoohhooooo!!” You squealed and started wiggling a little more, trying so hard to keep yourself stood up as your legs began to feel more and more like jelly. Your cheeks still illuminated in a red tint and your breaths between your laugh becoming more heavy.

Wednesday then just softly dug her fingers into your stomach, clearly not expecting the sudden reaction that you let out but after your piercing squeal and you moved your hands out to push at Wednesdays. “Oh.. Bad Spot?” The older girl asked, nonchalantly. You didn’t even move you mouth to talk, you just looked and turned your head to the side, while desperately trying to inhale air before she wrecked you again. “I’m gonna take that as a yes” she told herself before erratically squirming her fingers all over your stomach. Your eyes widen as you instantly fell into heavy, screaming laughter. “BAHAHAHAHHA FUHUCK YOHHOU!!” You screamed out and as if Wednesday was going to let that slide. She then used both of her hands to zoom them around your stomach, moving and squiggling her fingers at a rapid pace. “BAHAHHAHA NOHOHO!! IHIM SOHORRY!!” You pleaded as your laughter shortly became desperate and high pitched and even then wednesday still didn’t want to let up. But after seeing how desperate you were she rolled her eyes and pulled her hands away.

She could never imagine of doing anything that could hurt you, she usually saved that kind of torture for people she couldn’t tolerate. You then gasped for air as you leant your head back against the wall, shutting your eyes and letting the natural colour re apear on your cheeks.

“Well.. you know what.. I think I actually agree With enid. You are tickle-able” Wednesday smugly smiled before returning back to her desk at her chair.

“I am not!..” you said in a whiny voice again, trying to catch your breath in between. Wednesday then just simply started to wiggle her nimble fingers at you again before you immediately changed your tone. “Okay! Okay!” You squeaked with a nervous giggle. Wednesday rolled her eyes playfully and turned to look at her type writer.. before speaking up.. again

“Just to be clear, now that I know about this rather.. amusing fact. I will be using it to my advantage.” She stated evily before turning to look at you with a twisted smirk. Your blood ran colder then her tone before your eyes widened. You then came to the realisation that.. you were screwed.

[poppy-metal]

"The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.”

A/N: im placing this before the sexual side of their relationship begins. A prelude of sorts, if you will.

Cw: voyeurism, smut, dekus secretly dirty mouth.

All things considered izuku’s room was...not as gross as you expected a staple college aged guys dorm room to be. It was cluttered but not disgusting, posters of comics and figurines and manga and some clothes strewn about, everything kind of frenzied and haphazard. It was so incredibly deku, a secret smile pulled at your lips, even though your reasons for being here were less than innocent

He’s wearing fucking pink. Because of course he is, of course izuku is humble and comfortable in his masculinity enough to pull off a bright pink t-shirt. It hugs his chest too, and you have to wonder if literally any of his clothes fit him and the tits he decided to grow in college. His image is so utterly imposing, his smile so bright, and laugh so airy, it sends butterflies flipping through your stomach at just the sight of him and that makes you want to vomit. Your lips curl in a sneer and you’re walking towards him and the group of friends he’s talking to as if on reflex. 

Stupid, lovely deku. You knock your shoulder into his as you pass, hard enough that his books clatter and fall to the floor, scattering. And then those green eyes are on you, giving you his attention and your body feels alive, your blood cells buzzing under your skin even as he frowns. The dimples on his freckled face fall as he takes you in. Yes, you think, look at me, see me, want me. 

Out loud you say. “Watch where you’re going, stupid deku” and you’re looking at him like he’s the dirt under your shoe. He’s not. He’s the center of your universe. Your world tilts around his axis. “Pink isn’t your fucking color by the way”. it is. 

Izuku huffs. He’s past the point where he used to turn as red as a tomato and duck his head whenever you stood in front of him, but he’s still deku at the end of the day. An easy target. “If looking at me bothers you so much you could just ignore me.” He crouches down to pick up his things. His words make you itch, if you could ignore him, you wouldn’t fucking be here. Its because he exists too much, that you want to push him down so much. 

You step your manicured foot onto his notebook right as he’s about to grab it. He tugs at it, you dont budge, and he looks up at you, exasperated. “Can i have my notebook, please?” 

Why is he so fucking pretty? God, you want to throw up. You dig your heel in further, covering the flutter you feel in your chest with a practiced sneer. “I like the way you say please, deku.” You lean down a little, “Say ‘your highness’ and i’ll move” 

It’s a thrill, seeing the way his jaw sets, his brow furrows, his eyes go annoyed. Sweet, sweet, friendly izuku. You’re the only one he looks at like this, like he wants to throttle you. But he won’t. You see his adams apple bob, his cheeks dust pink, even as he glares. “No” 

You pause. It’s not the first time he’s gotten snippy with you, but the conviction behind it is new. You feel something in your stomach give a jump, your blood thrumming in your ears. You jerk your foot towards you, sliding his notebook out from his hands and standing completely on top of it with both your feet now. Your sticky lips, glossy and plump, spread into a mocking grin, “No? Do i need to slam you into some lockers and take you lunch money?” You feel a thousand feet tall, towering above him still kneeling, you on the high ground, looking down at him below you, where he can’t reach you. Can’t ever see the truth. “C’mon pansy, you’re already on your knees anyway” 

But he isn’t anymore. He jerks to a stand, and now he’s taller than you, but you puff your chest out, not letting that affect you. It always affects you. Not that he knows or ever notices. Your eyes are widening when he steps forward so you’re practically nose to nose and chest to chest. “I don’t have time for you” he snaps, irritated. And then he’s stepping away as suddenly as he stepped up, the rest of his things gathered in his arms, he shakes his head at you, a tendril of that mossy mousey hair falling into his eyes. “I gotta get to class” 

And then he’s gone, brushing by you, disengaging. You stand there, your breath stuck in your chest, not moving. ‘I dont have time for you’ over and over again rings through your head like a mantra. You step off his notebook robotically and kick it across the floor. It bangs against a wall and you feel your fists clench, nail beds digging into your palms harshly. ‘I dont have time for you’ 

You turn on your heel, away from the direction of your class, fury blinding you. Anger in place of humiliation, vindication in place of being humbled. You don’t know what crawled up his ass and made him think he was above you all the sudden, but you weren’t having it, not the fuck at all. 

And that’s how you found yourself snooping through izukus dorm, with the intention of finding some kind of dirt, or something to hold over his stupid head. He didn’t have time for you? How dare he act like he was better than you, like he had things more important to do than to indulge you. You were still so mad you wanted to throw a tantrum, kick and scream and claw his eyes out. Straddle his stupid broad waist and shake him until all he saw was you, you, you. 

You really hated him. Hated that because of him you were basically a bully because any attention from him was attention you thrived and lived under. Maybe if you weren’t so prideful, so disgusted by the weakness of your own gooey emotions for him, you would have tried to be the center of his attention in a nicer way, but as it was you were in too deep. This was the sick game you played, and losing wasn’t an option. 

You hated how much that made you similar to bakugou in a way. You didn’t like that guy, and even weirdly so, you wanted to gouge his fucking eyes out for the way he treated and talked to izuku. Was it jealousy or possesivness that drove you to want to be the only one who could rile izuku? You wondered, sometimes, if bakugou felt the same way about you. 

It was the loss of control, for you. Better yet, it was the way you liked the loss of that control. You had always prided yourself on being strong willed and a perfectionist. But whenever your eyes so much as grazed izukus, all your emotions went rattling around your stomach in sick twisted ways, giving you goosebumps, making you...nervous. It was a crush that had turned into an obsession, wasn’t it? And you wanted to make izuku suffer not only for invoking those messy feelings, but for not seeming to return them as well. If he couldn’t love you or want you romantically or sexually, you’d force yourself onto his radar and into his head until thinking about anyone else was impossible. Until you squirmed under his skin as much as he squirmed under yours. 

Acting like you didnt exist was unacceptable. Obviously you’d slacked off on your taunts and actions, if he could just brush past you so easily, not taking your bait. You needed to even the playing field again, and by even you meant you needed to be towering above him again. 

Towering over him so you dont have the time to think about how much you want to be under him, your mind whispers at you as you pick through his room, trying to find anything incripting. Someone like izuku would probably have something utterly embarrassing like a diary or some weird porn magazines, shameless, helpless guy that he was. 

You huff as you open his drawer next to his bedside, nearly slamming it back shut in shock at what you see there. 

You’re not stupid. You’re a healthy, young woman with an active sexual imagination and access to the world wide web, to porn. 

Izuku has a fleshlight in his drawer. Izuku has a sexytoy. Izuku. And its green. 

Izuku has a sex toy that he probably uses. That he probably sticks his cock into and moves- 

An absurd laugh barks out of you, shocked and helpless. Because while in your head you knew izuku had to be some kind pervert, what other explanation was there for the way he blushed and darted his gaze around like a ping pong ball whenever you leaned forward and get caught a glimpse under your blouse, this is...unexpected. Imagining izuku in explicit scenarios, doing lewd things, it was something you didn’t allow your mind to wonder to often over. You didn’t like the way you got all squirmy and meek whenever you thought too long about izuku without clothes. 

You feel kind of squirmy now, hot and uncomfortable as you shift around and try to gather your wits back about you. Revenge, that’s what you’re here for. 

With a shaky exhale you turn away from his dresser, your thoughts flitting around your head like annoying gnats. What, who, does he think about when he…? What does he look like? What does his...c- You shake your head, slap your cheeks, trying to center yourself from the images floating around, flustering you and distracting you. 

You’re in the middle of lifting the covers on his bed to peek under it, see if there’s anything there, when you hear the handle on his door jiggle. You freeze, every muscle in your body locked frozen like a deer in headlights as the knob twists, and then catches. Right. You’d picked the lock with one of your hair clips and then made sure to lock it again behind you just in case something like this happened. And by the, “Ugh” on the other side of the door, yep that’s definitely izuku. You’re shoved out of your shocked state, and bolting for his closet door as you hear the jingle of his keys twist in the lock, trying your best to close the door as quietly as possible behind you, it swishing shut barely a second before the door to his dorm opens and you hear him step in. 

Class must have let out early or something, you think huffily, gently rearranging yourself into a comfortable position on a pile of his clothes as he shuffles around his room. You hear the thumb of him dropping his books, the shuffle of his feet, the clutter of him taking off his shoes and the squeak of his mattress as he plops down on it. 

You tuck your knees to your chest and roll your eyes, picking at your leggings as you wonder how long you’ll have to hide before he goes to the bathroom or something so you can leave. It’s fucking stuffy in his closet already, the air hot. Your hand touches the soft fabric beneath you, realizing you’re sitting on one of his hoodies. Its too dark to see which one it is, but you imagine it as your favorite red one. Maybe you’d steal it as compensation for him making you sit and wait in his dumb closet while he probably stared at the ceiling with no thoughts in his dumb brain.

You hear him sigh, loud and dramatic, and then a muffled scream/groan into his pillow. Your lips twitch, he’s such a fucking drama queen. 

Your little smile drops off your face when you hear the sound of his drawer opening.  

Oh god. Oh no. 

Your face feels like there are embers burning under it as you hear the unmistakable sound of clothes being shucked, a zipper and and then flop, and then….a slick wet sound and a sigh of relief. 

Your eyes feel like they are bugging out of your head. Izuku is really about to fuck his fleshlight with you hiding in his closet with him none the wiser. You feel suddenly embarrassed and hot all over, hiding your face in your knees as you hear him let out a moan. A loud one. 

You’re on fire, every part of you. You don’t think you can take this, don’t think you can sit through this and listen to this, think you should just burst out of his closet and use your bravado to somehow flip the situation and make him feel humiliated for getting off in the privacy of his own room, like he’s in the wrong even though you had violated so many boundaries for even being here right now. 

You could do it too, you know. You’re good at twisting things, at powering through the complicated mess of flustered feelings izuku makes you feel and making it his fault, making him back down and cower. You could do it...you’re uncurling your legs and pushing your hands under you in the middle of getting up to do so when- 

“Fuck. ___” Your name. You freeze, for an unholy, goldy second you think you’ve been caught, that he has acquired x-ray vision and has spotted you but no. His voice isn’t surprised or upset its...breathless, airy. He moaned it. 

The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.

Heat immediately shoots between your legs, your core throbbing unbidden in reflex to the sound, helpless to stop it, to have any other reaction. Your ass plops right back down. You turn slightly towards the door, pressing your side against it, your ear smooshed against the cool wood as you listen, as if drawn under a spell. 

“You’re such…” You hear izuku pant, his voice deeper and more rough then you’ve ever heard it before. “A fucking brat” 

Wet between your legs, seeping through your panties at his words, seemingly ripped out of him. God, he sounds pissed, wrecked. He cursed. You’ve never heard izuku curse before, never, even when you’d pushed him too far. Something really was different about today. 

The slick sounds are more frequent now, steady and...and sounding like real sex you’d heard from porn before. Wet, sloppy, and slapping. Your knees knock together as you lean forward even more. There’s an invisible string pulling, tugging you forward, you want to see…

“Fucking slut” He grunts, and there’s a heavy slap, your breath catching in your fucking throat as you realize that...that must be the clap of his balls hitting the back of his fleshlight everytime he thrusts into it. “Always running your fucking mouth, looking down at me, so mean, you’re so fucking mean to me…uh..” 

The sounds of sex fill the room and you can’t take it anymore, you’re burning, burning, burning, fuck the consequnces. You hesitantly and slowly turn the handle of the closet door, letting it slide open just a crack, enough for you to peek through, to get a glimpse.

His lean muscular back is the first thing you see, he’s facing directly away from his closet, thank god but oh god, that means you see..so much. The flex of his shoulder blades under his tan skin, the smattering of freckles over his shoulder, the long slender slope of his spine as it curves down his broad back, the dimbles at the bottom of his spine, flexing as he fucks his toy. His ass, because of course izuku would have a perfect round bubble butt. There are freckles there too. 

Your eyes skate down, hungry to his large and heavy balls, low hanging and full, currently smacked right up against the base of the little pocket pussy he’s practically straddling on his bed. 

It hits you again than, that deku is imagining that toy is you, he’s imagining fucking you in this position on his bed right now, imagining its your cunt hes pounding into, and your face he’s spitting those filthy words at. 

Your hand is really moving without your permission when it slips under the band of your leggings into your panties, fingers immediately dipping between the slick folds of your pussy, silky and wet. 

“-Wet” Izuku grunts, as you dip a finger just barely inside. “Fuck, i knew you’d be so fucking soft and good inside. Such a bratty girl would have a sweet cunt attached to her, huh?” 

Fuck, where and when did izuku start speaking like this? His soft voice curling around such crude words is making you gush all over your fingers. You wish you could see the kind of face he was making when he said them. 

“Yeah, you like taking my cock don’t you, baby?” He croons and if you close your eyes you can almost imagine he’s speaking directly into your ear, behind you. His thrusts get heavier, rougher, he lifts his leg up on the bed and you see a flash of the little green toy being fucked on his cock, big and angry looking. He’s being so brutal, hammering the thing down on his dick as he hips rut to meet every downward tug. “Milk it. Milk my fucking cock you whore. Wanna- fuck, wanna hear you say my name when you cum, want you to know who’s pouding that little pussy. The loser you fucking hate, yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

Yes, you whimper in your head in answer to him, your fingers curling deep, deep, inside, fucking yourself on them in earnest. He’s so big and you only caught a glimpse, but it was enough. Enough to know he’d fucking cleave you apart if he tried to fit that monster between his legs inside your tight little pussy. But you want it, god you fucking want it. You wanna feel him splitting you open, making you cream around him, making you beg for it. Making you bleed. 

“One of these day” he says, his voice breathless but steady, even as it cracks. You know he’s close. “I’m gonna fucking snap. Im going to make you look me in the fucking eye and apologize for making me want you, and then im going to split that pussy open- fuck, im coming, fuck, fuck, fuck. Do you understand, b-bitch? Gonna fucking make you mine, yeah, take it, take your senpais cock you dirty fucking girl, ah!” 

He slumps forward, hips humping into the toy and balls spasming as he pumps it full of his cum, shuddering deeply with little aborted whimpers. “Good girl, good girl” he pants, trailing off, giving one last little jerk of his hips before stilling. 

You bite your lip so hard you draw blood to stop yourself from whimpering out loud. You pull your sticky fingers out of your cunt and shuffle back into the dark of the closet, curling in on yourself as izuku lays there, panting heavily for a few moments before moving. 

You stay stock still as you hear him get up and shuffle around, his footsteps padding into the bathroom where you hear the door click softly shut. You spring up to your feet and don’t care if you make noise as you dart out of his room and into the hallway, sprinting like a bat out of hell as you make you way to the girls dorms.

You’ll think about how to reevaluate and recoup later. Right now you just really need to get to your bed so you can rut pathetically onto your own fingers and imagine izukus fat dick breaking you open. Never in a million years did you think he had those kinds of feelings for you, and you know it changes the whole game, is a whole other level of playing field where you now know he wants you on a physical level. 

You feel powerless and lie you’re slipping again, don’t know how you’re going to point your finger at him and laugh when you know for every insult you throw his way, is another way hes fucking his toy at night, adding it as another thing to get you back for. If he ever snaps. 

If. you want it to be a when, so bad, not an if. 

You’ll make it a when. You’ll push him off the metaphorical cliff he’s teetering on to make it so. 

. 

[aineryeo]

Sweet Tea ௹ OSAMU

Sweet Hibiscus Tea — Better Twin. 🍵

SYNOPSIS: You are not a protagonist but your best friend definitely is. When will you ever be, sweet little side-character? » 6.2k Words

THEME: A li'l bit of a slow burn love story, angst, just a treat as my first fic in a year. | Bit of profanity, cussin', teen drama. And use of dialogue references!

NOTE: Low-key felt like this was crap, rip. I still love you so much ‘Samu :( I may have not written this the best

If you were to think of what your role in life was, you were sure you were a comic relief character, and your screen time was just cut short because the viewers in the show you call, “Life” are not giving you the best reviews. With the amount of times you felt like you were cycling through all your days the same, waking up… Waking.. Up.. Wake— Yeah, that was about it.

Everything else was an objective agenda. You were a sufficient klutz, whatever that paper was. You ponder, in your inner monologue while you’re tapping your push-pen on your school desk in Inarizaki.

“— And we’ll be designing our own living rooms as part of the Course Outline for Interior Studies in the general subject.”

You had a best friend, continuing to ignore the incessant babbles, you say as you write a little note to remind yourself to think of a living room design to finish the work quickly later. You had a best friend, who you can easily say is the main character of life. You swear, as she sat close to the window, and how she wasn’t mean, she was charming; it was so hard not to like her. But she’s also insecure, keeps to herself enough, having you by her side.

“Hear that ‘Samu?”

“What now, ‘Sumu?”

“Interior Designin’! Weren’t ya listenin’ ya scrub.” Bleach-blonde hair.“What about it?” Disinterest; Bleached hair too, but ash-grey.

“Ain’t Kori-Kori real good at stuff like this?”

You observed the two famed twins of Inarizaki High. Actually no, you were forced to; how? Well, you sat between them, not like that ever stopped anyone, nor did it ever interfere with your boring experience of being a 2nd mid-year Senior. You just wanted to get up, and leave, get a job or something; not going to lie.

“Is there anyone talking at the back right there? Anything the class would like to hear, pretty sure.” Professor said, which immediately shut the two up, the other was blatant and oblivious, even whistling.

“Guessed so.” Your professor went on right after.

Your chin was resting on the heel of your palm now, but you felt someone roughly, no really, they roughly tapped your shoulder, the touch was from a clearly heavy hand. It came from your right, which was…

“Hey missy, pass this on to my brother, will ‘ya?” He grinned widely, his other hand that held the pen used to write a note in the torn paper from his notebook that most likely didn’t have any notes despite it being mid-year. You let out a bit of a grunt, not moving from your position, but you did use your hand that was tapping your table to pass it on to the other Miya without sparing a glance.

“...”

“...”

Your arm was about to die. 

You turned to the other Miya, a small frown on your face as he ignored your outstretched hand, his eyes were closed, arms crossed but he was definitely not sleeping, it was obvious enough. So you tried to aggressively wave your arm that held the letter while keeping an eye on the doting teacher upfront, trying not to be obvious. His brother had noticed that he was ignoring you as well, shrugging when your frown deepened, back straightening on your desk, your free hand now tapping on your table instead of being a rest for your head.

“Hey ‘Samu ‘ya jerk…!” Atsumu whispered, a volume tad higher, to his brother who proceeded to ignore him; and technically, you too.

You groaned and ignored the two, equally annoying twins that are involving you into a situation you don’t want to get involved in. So you just slammed, actually no, not slammed exactly but you did harshly place the torn paper that contained some unnamed letter from Atsumu directed to Osamu. Wistfully, this was noticed by your professor.

“Y/N. I believe it’s been made clear that passing notes is not allowed in my class, rather, on any occasion that involves other subjects as well.” They scolded.

You sucked a breath in between your teeth, your hand ran through your hair in an attempt to calm you down. “Switch seats with Yokori. This seating will last ‘till the end of the year, ‘lest you misbehave again. This applies to everyone else who has been swapped constantly.”

Yokori gave you a solemn smile, knowing you hated this, she gathered her belongings and quickly sat to avoid any more trouble; even opting to give you a pat on your shoulder on the way to her desk near the window, though not quite beside. One classmate separated you from being directly beside the scenery of school grounds that held the gym where your schools’ famous volleyball team resides for practices. Actually, this classmate was one of their players, Suna Rintaro? Your impression on him was that he was quiet… Enough, if not provoked or talked to at all, which you guessed was part of your luck. Because you were definitely not going to talk to him, less it required you to by any of your classes together.

So you sat, your professor continued, and your eyes landed on your best friend that sat on your previous seat, since your first year of middle school. Bored expression on once again, your thoughts dialed back, and you noticed a quick interaction from Atsumu towards your best friend who flushed slightly from the two’s attention, noticing that even the twin who ignored you earlier began perking up, just a little bit. And the feeling was slight but you felt a tinge of annoyance, proceeding to push it to the back of your mind, not letting the feelings against your best friend surface. Because she was good, and undeserving of it, obviously.

The bell rang, it was time for lunch!

Lunch is a happy time, because you can buy yourself chocolate, and you can, well, eat lunch. What else is there for? You were bored out of your mind at home after doing your homework, and studying enough for the day so you practiced cooking. Which you admit, was very enjoyable, especially when you finish. Today was tuna sushi rolls, seaweed-strapped spam meat, seasoned rice, and hot tamarind soup in your insulating tumbler. You didn’t notice light gray irisess eyeing you in your little daydream about your lunch for today.

“Y/N, you good?” Yokori, said best friend went next to you, who had just finished gathering your lunch bag. You nodded, smile small. “Yep, let’s go.”

The class dispersed quickly, you two walked side-by-side as she timidly told you a story about her situation earlier.

“So Atsumu-san was passing notes to his brother Osamu, right? T’was so weird because they kept asking me questions, but Atsumu-san was nice, he wanted help with that Interior Designing project we have going on.” She laughed, scratching her cheek. You nodded along to her story, she was used to your rather quiet demeanor, she knew you were still listening. “They said it’d be cool to attend their after-school volleyball practice.”

“Mmh. Really? They’re annoying though.” You humored her, to which she chuckled.

“I mean… It shouldn’t be bad to try it, right?” She said with a big grin, bright.

You jutted your lips forward as you bobbed your head in agreement, already taking your chopsticks and lunch out when you found a free table. “I guess so.” You said, mouth chewing on a roll.

You pour a portion of soup to get the food down your throat onto your tumbler’s cap that serves as the cup, and drank, “So I told them you’re coming with me, I’d be too nervous by myself… Hehe..” and spat.

“Kori, what?”

“Come with me…” She looked at you, nervously smiling with her eyebrows raised in mock questioning, “-please.”

“Okay.”

“I promise, I’ll ask you next ti— wait, really? Holy shit, Y/N, thank you! I’ll pay you back, for sure. I didn’t expect you to agree quickly, d’you have a crush on any of the VBC members, perhaps?” She teased.

You were eating continually, mouth full of rice as you pointed your metal chopsticks toward her. Speaking with your mouth full, “I don’t think there was any point trying to say no if I’d say yes in the end anyway. It already happened, what can I really do?”

She nodded in understanding, you were always like this, relaxed about what happened around. It was worth idolizing, at least. Your head felt like it was burning, the back, you mean. Was someone staring?

You were now sitting outside of the gym, deciding to hang around outside instead of watching sweaty boys play for hours. Kori became more relaxed, so you took the go-mark and asked to leave when you noticed that she was. The team was fond of her, you note, Shinsuke Kita the Captain even thanking her for thinking of buying them snacks and helping them around with their manager to fill up the boys’ water bottles. The team gave her attention and copied their captain in terms of providing gratification for her deeds. You heard her ‘lax conversation next to the banter with the twins that was a normal recurrence.

You were simply a drifting particle, a bystander.

Actually wait, you remembered that you had packed yourself a little snack in case you had to stay in school for some surprise activity you forgot about, or situations like this exactly. So you took out your little box of homemade onigiris, not noticing the figure looming at the door. It was their break, and you were about to bite.

“Hey, that yours?” You hear, stopping your bite mid-way, turning your head to see ash-grey.

“Huh.”

“Ya deaf or what, missy?” The nerve.

You looked at him, and bit on the prism-shaped rice, then looked forward once again, closing your eyes even. ‘Till you heard shuffling and a sleazy figure sitting next to yours. That was when you opened your eyes, mouth slightly agape. Osamu Miya, sat next to you, his legs spread, and his arms were holding his whole posture as his head faced yours.

“If yer gonna look at me like that, the least ya could do is gimme one, little miss.”

You shook your head and swallowed. “Stop calling me little miss, old man.”

“Hoho, old man?” He says, humoring you, you can smell his cologne from here, mixed with sweat from his practice. He leaned forward, his arms now intertwining, resting on his knees, he was facing you with a small smile.

“Yeah, I’d call you shit hair but your hair ain’t the color.” You shrugged, but it was the type of shrug where you slightly move your hands outward. So when you did, the hand that held your bitten snack was when the big fox ate his fill. “Mm, tastes good.”

“Fucki-” You screeched. His eyes went wide when you just shoved the onigiri in his mouth, “It has your germs now, better not choke, gran’pa.”

Osamu was trying to give you a snide reply back but he couldn’t, with the rice stuck in, he just kept chewing. As you stood up and yelled to Kori that you were leaving. You were a side character, nothing more, you thought; as you walked away from the boy who had tried reaching to you, but you failed to notice.

“So… He invited me to their house to hang out.” Yokori said happily on the phone, you were trying to sketch a few designs you felt like doing so hummed, already quite satisfied, spinning on your chair right after. “So…”

“No.”

“But I haven’t said anything yet!”

“You were about to ask me if I can come with you because you’re nervous to go alone, the usual, hm?”

“...”

“Hm?”

“...Yes.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“N-”

“I’ll order you takeout pizza!”

“...Okay.”

You heard her cheering yes! On the other line, to which you just slumped in your chair to. And so, the day came and you were right behind Kori, who was knocking on the Miya residence as of the moment. The one who greeted the both of you was Osamu Miya, you internally groaned, their parents were off, you heard.

“Tsumu!” Your best friend smiles, greeting the other twin brightly; and smiling so wide at the twin at the door. “Hello ‘Samu!” She said, before the blonde had pushed past the door to beam at her.

“Brought your li’l friend along, cutie?” Atsumu jokes, rustling your friend’s hair before beckoning the two of you to come in. You walk past Osamu who you had mild grudges with. Your friend turned to you, “I’ll be helping Atsumu with some plates for the project, we’ll be up in his room!” She said, innocently.

“Mmh, okay. I’ll stay here?” You asked, more to yourself, you didn’t really know where to stay. This wasn’t your place.

“Accommodate the guest ‘Samu, I need’a do important school stuff.” Atsumu waved off as the two walked up the stairs on the way to the boy’s room, pretty sure. You stood there in the middle for a couple minutes, unsure. The renowned ‘less annoying’ Miya was sitting on one of their kitchen stools, his cheek digging into his palm, just staring at you. You stared back. He stared back. You were both staring.

You broke. “Not gonna let me sit, or anything?”

“Sit anywhere or something.” He droned, still looking at you. He was enjoying it.

So you looked at the couch beside you, then spared a glance at him, about to sit until he spoke again, “Hmm, not there.” He said in his low voice that contained an underline of mockery, you were sure. Though to him, it was simply amusing, to watch you that is. If anyone outside the two of your observing based gazes, he was actually sporting a noticeable smile. A small triangle smile, as if he was shy to make it any bigger, in hopes of hiding something.

You tried the two other chairs, the floor, leaning on a wall, but it was all a reject. You were embarrassed every time. Did you really have to go through all this just to get takeout pizza? You’d have to ask more later, that's for sure. So you tried for a last option, there was a tall stool right beside his, and well, three others far from him. So you tried the farthest tall stool from him, which was the far left. He shook his head no, you furrowed your eyebrows, you moved to the second stool, still no? Every move made your head wrinkle further down ‘till you reached the last seat, right next to him. To which he finally said, “Got it, pretty girl.” with a big boyish grin.

You didn’t have time to react to the nickname before finally letting out a sigh as you stretched your arms, and legs before laying your head on your arms that were resting on the table in front. That whole interaction probably took at least half an hour, you didn’t really know, you didn’t have a watch. “Pretty, my ass.”

He hummed, resting his head on his arms as well, though he was facing you. “Yer ass is.”

“The fuck.”

“Ya got a bad mouth.”

You groaned, and buried your face in your arms. Wanting to escape this. But you were lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t subconsciously enjoy his attention. You weren’t used to it, you weren’t supposed to feel this, right? It wasn’t, it just, it’s not you. Right? You shook your head to which the boy watched you do, getting your head up, posture straight and looking at him. He looked back, like he always seems to do.

“What do you want from me?” You say.

Osamu kept his mouth shut, still looking into you, thinking of what to say. Unwilling himself to tell you what he’d rather. So he asked a question, “D’ya cook?”

“Yeah, I make my own lunch and snacks.” You said, wary. Already feeling suspicious, you raise both your brows.

“Let’s cook.” He suggests.

Here’s the thing, you can’t do anything right if someone’s watching you too intently. It feels awkward, who in their right mind is able to do this right when he’s gripping your wrist that was stirring the batter for what the both of you decided to make, muffins.

“Ya gotta put in the right amount of strength.” He instructed.

“I’m starting to regret mentioning that I don’t bake often.” You thought, you thought you just thought that it was only in your thoughts. Oh no, you were becoming redundant, was it always this hot?

“Yer burnin’ figuratively, and literally. By that, your eyeballs are wide as fuck.” Osamu pointed out, he was biting his lip, to keep from a wide smile. “Tryna bake with yer hot gaze?”

What? “Huh.”

Now Osamu had wide eyes, I think it came off more sultry than intended. So he moved away from you as if you were burning his skin, though technically, you really were. Playing it cool. “What?”

“My what.”

“Yer… What?”

You were staring at him with a confused expression, about to open your mouth when, “Hey scrub! Make me a snack, I’m starvin’ over here.” Atsumu yelled from the room, you heard Kori’s small laugh and a faint, “Don’t be so mean, ‘Tsum.”

“Right. Let’s put ‘em in the tray then straight to the oven, yeah?” Osamu started, standing next to you, his face was not quite visible due to his wide shoulders, if you knew better, he might be obstructing your vision to not see the steaming heat from his ears. Spoiler, you did. But you chose not to poke at a sleeping bear.

“You sick? Got red ears?” You poked at a sleeping bear.

Actually, you were expecting a snark reply, it was easier that way. Just be sarcastic back. It was when the both of you were done, and placed the tray containing the muffin batter in the oven to bake, did Osamu dip his index finger in the bowl of slightly empty batter, facing you, and licking it off his finger. You really tried, you did; you tried not to look at the way he did that so unabashed. Dipping the same finger on the last remaining batter before menacingly leaning closer to you, inches from your face. If you could measure it exactly, 2.8 inches? So close.

Your weight moved from the heel of your foot to the front, again and again, what was he doing?

“What are you—?” You began before you got cut off by his finger wiping the batter on your lips, it made it look like you had a mustache. You stood there surprised for a few seconds, not knowing how to react, and hated how you expected something so different. It was until you heard a click of a camera and a low chuckle vibrate from the boy in front of you that you took the few remaining flour that was right in your reach to throw it in front of his face, making a huge fog of flour. He coughed for a bit, his eyes were glistening as he took the bowl next to him, using his whole hand to wipe leftover batter, getting ready to chase you.

You noticed. So you ran, but not without screaming, the leftover flour bag in your hand.

“No, please,”

“You asked for it, pretty girl.” He replied breathily, both of you were circling the kitchen island.

It took a good ten minutes before he decided to jump the island, and ran to quickly get hold of you with both of his arms, his hair tickling the side of your neck which made you laugh too hard, flour was all over his hair and apron, you failed to notice the handprint of batter right on your chest because you were struggling so hard to get off his grip. He was laughing too, you put on your scowling face, though not really mad, to face him, who in turn faced you as well. You didn’t notice the distance between the two of you was nearly non-existent; I repeat, nearly.

“Hey ‘Samu! I’m starvin’ and I smell yer bakin way over in my room.” You heard quick footsteps down the stairs, which made you jump in your skin. But even with that speed, you were still caught. Because Atsumu had an unreadable expression, “This place is a mess! Did we interrupt too early, hm?” Kori taking a peek right behind Atsumu.

You heard a dry cough from the other twin, facing the other direction, you facing the other as well. None of you spoke in time, so you took it. “No, uh, we weren’t, nothing was happening.”

“The scene of the crime is proof!” Atsumu pushed, teasing, as he continued his way down next to Kori.

“Shut it ‘ya scrub.”

“Yer the scrub, scrub.” They started bickering, real easy like that, trying to beat each other up. You noticed Kori walking down the stairs as well, first with an expression you couldn’t quite place, as if she was thinking deeply. But when she noticed you looking, she quickly changed into a bright smile, even sporting a blush, ready to tell a story about what happened behind the closed doors of Atsumu’s bedroom.

The day ended quickly after that, Osamu forced Atsumu to help the both of you to clean the kitchen while Kori volunteered to. It continued on like that, Kori dragging you into one of her meetings with Atsumu, you complaining but coming anyway, and you end up stuck with Osamu as she goes to her rendezvous with Atsumu that at this point, you have no idea what they’re doing. You just tag along.

Right now, you were beside Osamu in the gym during their break from training. Near the door, his teammates a good few distance away as he sat on a bench with his usual posture. Slumped back, his arms arching, one behind you that you fail to think of anything. Just as a general position. You were voicing out a thought you had in a while, seriously.

“So I was balls deep into ghosts way back—”

He looked at you, disgusted. “GROSS,” Shoving you lightly, “God, please never, ever say ‘balls deep in ghosts’ to anyone ever again. I feel like washin’ my mouth having to repeat that.” He even added this mild shudder that was just an exaggeration.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t really want to think about anyone having sex with a ghost.”

“Huh, who said anything about ghost sex?”

“You did, Y/N! Just now!”

“I didn’t—Oh, holy shit. No. Oh no.”

“What?”

“Does ‘balls deep’ not mean you’re standing in, like, the shallow end of the pool, metaphorically. Like up to your balls or something.”

“No! Balls deep is—It’s…”

“Balls deep is…”

“Why are you two talking about balls?” Suna interjected, acting as if he was just hearing about your conversation now. He was actually listening since the start, noticing the short distance between the both of you, interest hiding behind his eyes. “Balls, as in, dick or something? That’s wild.”

“Suna, no!” You screeched.

Osamu was biting back a laugh. The team was watching the three of you converse, getting used to the sight of you with their teammate. Assuming other things up the clouds. Atsumu was watching his brother with hawk eyes, and so was the girl next to him, Kori, though she was looking at you. If Suna was being honest, he didn’t notice any form of chemistry between your friend and the piss haired twin. They were all smiles and bright, but they always looked like they were thinking of something different. Though he doesn’t know anything about it.

Practice ended. It’s been months, and your interactions with Osamu have gotten more laxed. Your thoughts about being nothing more than a side-character was starting to change, because with him, you felt that you were a number one choice. You felt that you were a main character. Osamu felt the same, being with you felt like time was moving too fast and he wanted to spend it more with you, he was becoming insatiable. With you, he didn’t feel second to his brother for once. Lingering touches, his hand forgetting to unhook from yours, and his arm slinking around your shoulders as he yawns and asks for one of your homemade snacks as he starts to make some after-school snacks to give back to you. 

You were invading his mind as much as he was invading yours. Sitting next to you during lunch, asking what’s in your bento, vice versa. Why was everything sailing so smooth? It was like it was just him and you. You heard rumors from the Miya fans that they were thinking you were Osamu Miya’s girlfriend. Forgetting your inferiority, sometimes the universe was just cruel, so it had to humble you.

“Atsumu and I broke up.” Kori sobbed.

Not to you, but to Osamu. You gripped your bag’s strap tightly. You peeled your lip with your teeth until the middle bled, so you sucked in the pain. No, you were not the protagonist. You weren’t, you never will be, and you never are in the past, present, and future. So you sucked in a breath to collect yourself, seeing Osamu pat the girl to attempt and comfort her, badmouthing his brother. “Sorry,” Her first gripped his shirt tighter.

“Osamu, please. It’s—I always liked you. It was just you.”

She wasn’t a bad person. She wasn’t, but why? You wanted to hit her, that, or jump off a building and die. None of them noticed you yet, at least that’s what you thought, but the sobbing girl had already seen you before she started bawling, and the other twin was forced to give her a tight, but awkward hug.

“Yokori… I liked you.” 

You were about to walk to them normally after licking your lips from the blood, wanting to appear as a third party, to not let this happen. It just can’t. but you were pulled back by your collar. Who—

“Atsumu?”

He put his index finger in front of his lips to silence you, “Shh.”

So you followed him confused, he held your hand away from the scene. Leading you to the gates, the school half-empty, their practice about to start in half an hour or so. “Atsumu, why?” You croaked. 

He had his eyes widened a bit, why? Actually, why did he pull you from that scene? His other hand that didn’t hold yours, which you didn’t bother to remove with the energy seeping out of your body quickly; it was taking everything in you not to break down. It went to his nape, rubbing it in question to himself, why? It was just that, seeing you staring at a scene when he knew you liked his brother, at a scene too painful, for a best friend who was just trying to do their paper, he knew. So his arms safely wrapped around you as you stared dead into his eyes, looking at his features that resembled the other who had unknowingly captured your heart.

Your bleeding lip trembled, your eyes turned glossy of the tears held back, Atsumu looked at you, empathetic. He broke up with your best friend because he couldn’t see it happen, every time he saw you with his brother, that wasn’t what they both had. They were simply not meant to be, and he was fine, he just didn’t know, but he was glad that because of it, he found out that she liked his brother more than she did him. He’d be angry, he should be, for his sake, but he wasn’t angry for him, he was angry for you. 

He hid your face into his chest instead.  You didn’t sob, solely because you thought you didn’t deserve to. But you cried, you let your tears soak in, “You look like him too much.”

“Shhh, I know—” Sigh. “It’s okay. You don’t have to look at me.” He said, trying his best to comfort you, caressing your hair. As a pair of grey eyes watched the scene from a distance, unable to hear, but able to see. Maybe he saw too much as he grimaced.  

Osamu tried his best not to punch his brother right in the jaw, or push him away so he could yell everything he’d kept cooped up inside before you came running along, turning monochrome into a saturated-vision of the world. His teeth were pressing down on each other hard enough, he thought it might break, and shatter, just like his heart did. Of course, you chose his brother. Everyone always does. Every time he thinks he’s got it all, it’s all swiped underneath by his twin. Everyone says that it wasn’t their talents, or skills in volleyball that was the greatest gift they had ever received in life. It was their twin. But right now, he just thinks he was a curse he had to always deal with.

He jolted as he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Suna.

“Practice. Kita’s calling. Call your brother.” The ever-observant boy runs over as he scans the scene, and hisses as he sees you wrapped in his brother’s arms. Though he knew more than that, he had first-class seats to this theatrical after all. But he’d rather not be part of the act club, it wasn’t his forte.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Osamu replied, briefly. A bit tense, still.

He looked back to Atsumu who had let you go, and you who were walking away already. On the way to your home, he was sure. But he can’t help but cringe, thinking of it as your way of walking away from him.

“Practice! ‘Sumu!” He yelled, devoid of anything.

You jolted, you were a bit far but he yelled really loud you could still hear it. This didn’t go unnoticed by him, but you were both overcome by swirling emotions that stopped both of you to do the bare minimum, smile and wave, no after-school snacks. Atsumu jogged towards them, not noticing his brother’s attempt at hiding his huge frown. Practice was hell for Osamu, he didn’t want to see his brother right now, not when he still thinks of your precious little form hugging his brother’s, not his.

When his brother accidentally served a ball hitting Osamu behind the head, it was more of a switch for his anger; his rage.

“Fucking hell.” He said, turning viciously towards his brother who was uttering lighthearted apologies. It wasn’t until he started stalking towards Atsumu did the team start watching them like hawks, Aran thinking it’s just another one of their silly fights. But that thought was cut off when Osamu suddenly launched a fist towards Atsumu. “Ya just get off on this, huh? Ya get off on giving me bullshit every time.”

“Woah, ‘Samu I said I was sorry. What the fuck.” Atsumu said, brows furrowed, voice starting to get scratchy at his brother’s tight grip on the collar of his shirt. His hand quickly gripped his brother’s wrist tied to his shirt, attempting to get it off him, starting to get riled up from getting hit out of nowhere. “What’s your fuckin’ problem?” He said, about to kick his brother off of him.

“You. You just took everything from me, ‘Sumu. You took them.” 

Osamu breathed heavily as Kita instructed the team to peel the twins away from each other as this wasn’t one of their silly fights at all. It held other issues. The captain knew that practice wouldn’t be able to continue like this, so he made them do drills before allowing them to go home. Looking pointedly at the Miya’s. The two brothers did what they were told to, going off to do their drills, and getting ready to go home.

They were walking silently side-by-side, both faces covered with a frown, Atsumu’s face having a bruise by the jaw whilst Samu didn’t have a scratch, only because Atsumu was realizing where it all came from.

“Did ya see?”

“Fuck you.”

“Look— It’s not what ya think, ya idiot.” Atsumu started, Osamu raised his brow at his brother. “I don’t want to say anything. Figure things out yourself, scrub.” Then the blonde started walking faster, leaving his brother behind to ponder.

The next day came by, he tried calling you but it never got through. Did you block him? What did he do? Did you really get repulsed by him to avoid him to that extent? That involved his texts getting left unanswered. You didn’t come to school today, he asked Kori, who he had rejected yesterday, and who was supposed to know about you more than he did. Though he was aware that you often felt inferior to her, as he told you the same about his brother, it was a feeling that you two were all too familiar with.

“I don’t know where she is, I’m sorry. She’s not talking to me either.” 

Osamu stayed quiet at that, he thought you just needed time. So he let it go, looking forward to talking to you the following days. But that was the problem, you weren’t there in the following days either. He knew where you lived but he didn’t want to impose as your family didn’t know him very well yet either. He stopped himself from visiting until it hit the second week of your absence. Where were you? Why have you disappeared as if you never existed in the first place? He was growing worried, he wanted you to exist. He loved existing when you were around. And he wanted to clear everything up after getting multiple clues from Suna, and his brother, obviously.

It was until the class of the second week you were gone, when Osamu promised to visit your house after school, did their teacher tell them news that tore Osamu in half.

“One of our students Y/N L/N has transferred schools. The administration just finished filing her transfer after her visit yesterday, she didn’t get to say goodbye as her family moved out the same day. That’s about it, the first class is Physics. Have a nice day ahead, students.”

His ears were ringing. You were gone. Gone like the liquid that slipped past his hold. Atsumu looked at his brother in pity, knowing how much he had lost at that time. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t hear Osamu crying in the shower when they got home. Or when he tried to not get his snot on his pillows, sniffling in the night. His heart ached for his brother.

It’s been years since 2nd year in High School, and Osamu has just opened up Onigiri Miya. His brother had gone pro on Volleyball, and he couldn’t be more proud. He still finds himself thinking back to a few months of pure bliss in highschool, and he tried dating a fair share as well, in hopes that he’ll get what he had with you. He didn’t. So he dedicated himself to his work, and his passion: cooking. A few more years and his business was a success, to which was hell for the first few months, having no investors, and all. He was wiping down his counter, black cap on, his hair not having the same old bleached-grey hair. Instead, it was back to his natural dark hair.

“What is this place, really?” 

“The name reminds me of someone from my highschool days. But I only heard about it now, is it really good?”

“Yeah, totally! We should bring our superiors here, and see if we get a few favors, hmm? The onigiri here is a star-choice.” Osamu sees someone turned around, laughing prettily, smiling all-wide, they were bright. Until the same eyes he used to look at in such a close distance, caught his own. His heart skipped two beats, or maybe skipped beating this whole time, maybe he died because god, did he finally send his angel back to him?

It was when you uttered his name under your breath, from the entrance that rang the bell prior to the conversation he overheard earlier did he confirm it. “Hey pretty girl,” he says, as he takes off his cap, ruffles his hair, chuckling deeply, and looking directly back at you; your heart spasms. “Where have you been?”

Bonus:

“Yeah, he was a real bitch when I first talked to him in high school.” You badmouthed him loudly from your table, which made him yell from the kitchen, “I was trying to see if you’ll take my hand and put the note there, okay!” Laughing, you didn’t notice him stalking behind you until he placed a kiss on your cheek. “Grumpy-ass.”

Living with 'Samu! ⁆ End Credits

[mexicancat-girl]

Inspiration

A MarcNath fic written in part for #MLPrideFest2020 and Pride month in general

AO3: Link, 5700+ words

.

...

It’s been a long day. But instead of feeling tired, Marc feels restless, and strangely energized.

After all, the absolute favorite part of his day happens after school.

Once the final bell chimes, Marc instantly stuffs his notebook in his bag with lightning speed. He gives a little wave to some of his friends in class, before he quickly makes his way out of Ms. Mendeleiev’s class and down the hall.

He and Nathaniel were going to meet up to work on their comic. They always met up Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and today was Friday.

Though, as of late, they were spending nearly every day of the school week together. To work on their comic, of course. But more and more often, they just…hung out. And talked.

A solid half the time, they went wildly off-topic and didn’t even touch their comic. And while normally the two of them weren’t much for talking, when together, they could chatter up a storm.

Marc’s pretty sure they’ve re-treaded The Great Sailor Moon Debate at least a dozen times already—in which Nathaniel firmly believed the 90’s anime was the greatest version of the source material, while Marc defended the Crystal reboot for it’s better writing. Nathaniel would playfully call Marc a heathen, while Marc would retort with Nath being nostalgia blind. Then the two would get locked in a stalemate, and finally admit that Madoka Magica was better anyways. Rinse and repeat.

It was just…so easy to talk to Nathaniel. Even when Marc would get flustered and stutter out a mess, because of his stupid crush flaring up, Nathaniel wouldn’t judge him. He’d wait patiently for Marc to finally get a halfway cohesive sentence out, absorb it, give it his full consideration, and then take the conversation from there.

It helped that the two of them were on the introverted and shy side, knowing when to talk and when it was just enough to sit quietly side-by-side. They both had similar interests and passion driving them. They sort of…clicked. Understood each other in a way they didn’t with others. They got each other.

It’s the biggest reason why Marc enjoyed spending time with Nathaniel. Though his crush undeniably played a part in it…

Marc startled, running into the doorway of the art class slightly. He didn’t do it very hard—just barely clipped his shoulder against the arch—but he still jumped a foot in the air and yelped.

“You okay…?” a voice asks, warm and familiar.

Marc feels himself flush. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” he gets out, with a bashful laugh, rubbing slightly at his shoulder. He looks down at an amused Nathaniel, who’s half-hanging out of the doorway, having managed to get to the room before Marc.

“Lost in thought?” the redhead asks, jerking his head to move his bangs out of face.

“Sort of?” Marc offers, hitching his bag further up his shoulder and following in-step with Nathaniel over to their usual table in the Art Club.

The place was empty, which was a surprise. They had Art Club on Wednesdays, sure, which was when the art room was the busiest. But their teacher always encouraged students to work on projects in the room if they wanted, so usually there would always be at least one person in here.

It was nice, though, having the room all to themselves. Marc certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Thinking up new ideas for the comic?” Nathaniel asks, sitting in his normal spot, Marc sliding in next to him on the left, as was per usual.

Marc lets out a long groan. “Not really…I’ve sort of reached a…a writing block, actually,” he admits while threading a hand through his hair, feeling just a bit ashamed.

“That’s rough, buddy,” Nathaniel says sympathetically, but there’s a playful lilt to his smile that catches Marc’s attention.

Marc pauses, and considers, his eyes narrowing as he looks over at the other boy. “…Was that a reference?”

“Dunno. Is it?” Nathaniel asks, much too innocently.

“It is, isn’t it,” Marc says, more statement than question, levelling a finger at Nathaniel. Who is looking all the more amused with the way Marc’s challenging him. “Which anime?”

“I can’t believe you instantly jump to anime. I don’t always make anime references,” the redhead huffs, voice just shy of a whine.

“Cartoon then,” Marc decides. “It doesn’t sound like something from comics, or comic-related.”

“I mean. You’re not wrong, exactly…”

He tilts his head, taps his fingers against the table. “Is it something I’ve watched…?”

“Well, I mean, I’d hope you’ve watched it,” Nathaniel starts, voice turning teasing. “Or else I might just revoke our friendship.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he chides, but not seriously at all, bumping their shoulders together with a roll of his eyes. “Just say it’s Avatar and go, you drama queen.”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner,” Nathaniel mimes speaking into a microphone, holding his pencil up to his mouth like a complete dork. “Local writer gets cartoon reference, more at nine.”

“Dork,” Marc snorts, giggling.

“I’m not a dork,” Nathaniel states, shoving Marc playfully. “You’re the dork.”

Marc feels his grin widen. “Yes, because I’m the one that quotes things like a total dork on the reg…”

Nathaniel gasps, shoving at Marc’s shoulder again. “Shut up! You do that all the time!” he sputters, indignant.

“I really don’t.”

“You quote Shakespeare!”

“Nath,” Marc starts, putting a hand on his shoulder, giving him the snootiest look possible. “All writers quote Shakespeare. Keep up.”

“Go and quote your Shakespeare, then,” Nathaniel says, dramatically rolling his eyes and shrugging Marc’s hand off his shoulder. “Maybe writing a soliloquy will help with your writer’s block, or something.”

“You know, that might not be a bad idea…” he admits, before scratching at his temple and smiling sheepishly. “But I don’t think I’ve ever actually learned how to write one.”

“I mean, that’s fair,” Nathaniel laughs, nudging him playfully with the eraser of his pencil. “Writing like Shakespeare is bonkers. Poetry’s already complicated as it is.”

“How is poetry complicated? You can literally write anything as a poem.”

“Exactly,” the redhead nods sagely. “You can write anything. That’s way too many possibilities.”

“You know what? Fair.”

The two grinned at each other for a few long seconds, only broken by the door opening. Marc jolts in his seat, whipping his gaze away guiltily from staring into Nathaniel’s pretty blue eyes. He’d always had a habit of getting lost in them, if he wasn’t careful.

Mr. Carracci blinks back at them for a few seconds, before smiling softly. “Oh! Hello there, boys. Just about to head out, so I came to grab my things.”

“Do you need any help, sir?” Nathaniel offers, already half-out of his seat, the art teacher waving him away.

“No, no, I’m quite alright. You boys just sit and keep doing whatever you were doing before. Don’t mind me,” the older gentleman tells them warmly, already crossing the room to his desk at the very back. “Just remember to close the door on your way out when you’re done, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Marc and Nathaniel chime together, relaxing in their seats once more.

The two share a look, grinning slightly, before they open their bags and start to riffle through for their materials.

Marc cracks open his notebook, staring down at the page full of scribbles. He huffs, cracks his knuckles, and picks up his pen.

------

  A solid ten minutes pass, and nothing new is on the page. At least, nothing that hasn’t been instantly scribbled out in a fit of frustration.

Marc tries to sigh quietly so he doesn’t disturb his partner. Tapping his pen against his lips restlessly, he glares down at his notebook like it’s done him a personal offense.

Nothing comes out right. It all sounds…dumb. And clunky. And unrealistic. His prose is all out of sorts, too.

Nothing is up to snuff. It’s frustrating.

By the time Mr. Carracci is telling them goodbye, Nathaniel is already drawing furiously in his sketchbook. He’s so laser-focused, he only pauses to wave slightly at the teacher because Marc poked him in the shoulder and hissed at him to be polite.

Marc is the one that wishes the man goodbye properly, actually speaking and acknowledging him. “Goodnight, Mr. Carracci! I hope you get home safely.”

“You boys as well.” The art teacher smiles at them, warmly amused, and a bit…knowing, almost.

What he knows, Marc isn’t sure. But the sheer paternal energy from the man is almost comforting, when Marc gestures at Nathaniel with an apologetic smile, and Mr. Carracci nods back, eyes glittering in understanding.

The man leaves like he’d arrived: quiet and gentle, like a sweet Spring breeze.

Deciding he’s probably had enough of a break, Marc turns back to the daunting pages of his notebook.

  ------

 He can’t do it.

Marc feels the distinct need to slam his head against the desk, but just manages to keep himself from doing it.

He doesn’t want to startle Nathaniel out of his muse. If he makes a ruckus, it might ruin his drawing.

Speaking of drawing…

Marc can’t help but be curious, leaning slightly over to look at what the redhead has been so perfectly enraptured with the past few minutes.

He blinks. And then rubs at one of his eyes, thinking maybe he wasn’t seeing things correctly.

He’s not, though. Seeing things.

Because what Nathaniel is drawing is… him?

It’s of Marc hunching over his notebook, pen against his lips, looking frustrated.

It’s a nice drawing. The proportions are all there, the expression is spot-on, and Nathaniel’s even in the process of shading it.

The only things that seem slightly off are Marc’s eyes and lips. His eyes look like they have more lashes than an old-school shoujo manga character, and his lips look way plumper than they are.

And—is that a little heart next to the pen pressed against his lips…? Or is that just some sort of accidental stray mark?

As Marc tries to puzzle that out, his heart thrumming in his chest quite suddenly, Nathaniel’s pencil stops moving. The lack of familiar scratching against the page throws the room into an eerie silence, for all of three seconds, before the sound of Nathaniel nearly choking on his spit replaces it.

The redhead all but lunges forwards, bodily covering his sketchbook, looking back at him with the exact same look of a deer caught in headlights.

Marc leans back and shuffles into his spot, face warming as he realizes he’d all but draped himself over Nathaniel to watch him draw.

Not just draw anything, either. Draw him.

“S-Sorry,” he stutters out, tripping over his own tongue. “I-I didn’t mean. I just. Um?”

He clicks his mouth shut, finding that words weren’t doing him any good. Nathaniel is staring at him with an expression of pure mortification, face steadily turning as red as his hair.

And then the other boy laughs, strangled and high-strung, and just this side of hysterical.

“I-I-It’s fine!” Nathaniel squeaks out, voice jumping an octave.

The two stare at each other for a painfully drawn-out moment.

“I, uh…P-Probably should’ve asked to watch you,” Marc admits, tugging self-consciously at a section of his messy hair. “Sorry.”

“N-no, no, it’s…Fine,” Nathaniel says with an awkward laugh, still hunched protectively over his sketchbook, eyes darting about the room instead of looking at Marc. Like a cornered animal.

Another pause.

“I-I, ah. Should’ve asked. T-To draw you,” the redhead says, slowly and haltingly, gaze now firmly on the wood-grain of the table, like it’s the most riveting thing in the world. He taps his pencil restlessly on the tabletop. “Sorry. S’probably creepy…”

“No, no, not at all!” Marc yelps, quickly waving his hands in front of himself. “It’s great! I-I mean. I’ve…never had anyone draw me, b-before, and…And you did an amazing job, so…”

Nathaniel takes a deep breath, seemingly steeling himself, before he peers up at Marc cautiously. He’s hiding behind his hair, in that way he does when he’s embarrassed or shy, but his uncovered eye gleams bright under the florescent lights.

“Y-you, um. You really think so…?” the redhead asks softly, almost disbelieving, and Marc nods his head so fast he feels like an enthusiastic bobblehead.

“Mhm! It’s amazing,” he says emphatically, with a bit too much feeling. Instead of looking weirded out, though, the other boy’s lips upturn into a lopsided smile. “I mean, I’ve always known you can draw people really well, considering our comic being based on actual real-life people? But, I guess it’s sort of…different? Seeing myself being drawn. It’s like seeing myself from your eyes, you know? It’s something wholly unique.”

He knows he’s gushing and rambling, but he can’t help it. Nathaniel’s art… It’s always been amazing, and it always manages to get Marc to wax poetic over it.

It’s just even more amazing to see himself in Nathaniel’s sketchbook, as a realized drawing, something so obviously bursting with energy and care. With both enthusiasm and careful consideration, somehow perfectly harmonious.

“Are you sure you’re not just saying all that to butter me up…?” Nathaniel finally says, smile widening, stretching out his pink cheeks.

Marc blinks back at him, taken aback and confused. “But…I always compliment your art?”

“Yeah. I know,” Nathaniel starts, chuckling breathlessly. “But, I mean…Most people compliment my art to get me to draw them, y’know.”

“I wouldn’t do that!” Marc retorts instantly, scandalized. “All artists deserve compensation for their work! I’d never do that to you, Nath. D-do you think I’d do that? Because I wouldn’t.” The redhead raises an incredulous brow at him, and Marc presses, firm. “I wouldn’t.”

Nathaniel stares at him for three seconds, brow still raised, before he bursts into laughter.

“S-sorry! Sorry! I’m not,” he wheezes through his giggles. “I’m not laughing at you, I s-swear. Okay?”

Marc feels…just a bit lost.

“O…kay?

“Look, I know. I know you wouldn’t do that. It’s just,” Nathaniel sighs, shaking his head, the movement causing his long bangs to swish in front of his face. He takes a second to tug them behind his ear, smiling that crooked smile of his, making Marc’s heart skip a beat. “I wanted to tease you a little. I know you’d never use me like that, Marc.”

The earnestness in his voice, the openness of his expressions, they’re as easy to read as a book. The catalogue of Nathaniel’s expressions is Marc’s favorite book, actually, no matter how weird and cheesy that sounds.

“I just…I guess I didn’t want you to get your hopes up or anything, of me drawing you,” Nathaniel says slowly, seemingly picking his words carefully. He taps his pencil against the table rapidly, a nervous tap-tap-tap. “I only really draw what catches my attention or inspires me. It’s a bit harder to draw on-command…”

“Right. That makes sense,” Marc notes aloud, fiddling with his choker as he realizes just how similar both their creative processes actually are. It’s no wonder they worked well together. “It’s…actually sort of the same with me and my writing.”

“Yeah?” the other asks, pencil stalling.

“Yeah,” Marc nods. He pauses, bites his lip. “I mean, when I don’t have writer’s block, of course.”

It’s a lame thing to say, a total cop-out. But it’s not like Marc can just tell him. Tell Nathaniel point-blank that he’s what inspires Marc to write, the most out of any possible subject in the world. Including Ladybug and Chat Noir, the literal subjects of their comics.

Because Marc means it in a totally non-platonic sense; that Nathaniel inspires Marc to write with all of his heart. And it would be hard to explain away as it being in a ‘friend way’.

So, he’d rather not explain it at all. Like a coward.

In spite of his total lameness, though, Nathaniel grins back at him. “Is that why you’ve been just sitting there this whole time…?”

Marc sighs, long and loud, and gently thunks his head on the table. “Yes,” he says shamefully, voice muffled slightly against the wooden surface.

Nathaniel laughs, a bright and loud sound that makes Marc’s heart squeeze in his chest.

“Ah, alright then. That makes sense,” he snickers, voice warm and teasing. “Guess I have your writer’s block to thank, then, for helping me with my own art block.”

Marc’s heart takes the time to do a bout of gymnastics, and he turns his head to the side to peer over at the other boy. “Wait. What? How?”

Nathaniel smiles back at him crookedly, tapping his pencil in a jaunty rhythm that sounds vaguely familiar. Maybe a video game song. “I couldn’t figure out what to draw, but I looked over and saw you looking so pent-up and frustrated, it sort of made for a good drawing.”

Marc stares at him, taken aback. The other rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “And I mean, you were sitting there so still…You made the perfect model, actually.”

Marc snorts, completely disbelieving. “You mean to tell me that me being stuck in a writer’s block actually solved your art block?” he demands, sitting up and turning his body towards his friend, who simply looks bemused. “How’s that even fair?!”

“Dunno,” the redhead says with a chirp and a shrug, a shit-eating grin unfurling on his face. “But I’m not complaining.”

“Well—Well I am!” Marc sputters out, levelling a finger at Nathaniel’s face. The other boy goes cross-eyed to look at his judgmental digit. Marc lets out a disbelieving laugh, “I ended up being your inspiration, and I’m still suffering over here…!”

“Alright, alright,” Nathaniel says, gently batting Marc’s finger away. His voice is placating, but his smile was still a bit too wide in his mouth for Marc to believe. “I mean, you were a big help, being my model and all. So, use me as your inspiration, if you want.”

  ------

 Marc’s mind stalls, “So, use me as your inspiration, if you want” echoing on repeat.

It’s a flippant statement, but it still makes Marc’s face burn. He sputters, stuttering.

“Th-th-that’s not h-how it works!” he manages to choke out after a longer-than-necessary pause, turning and snatching up his notebook, hugging it against his chest and curling himself around it.

A sudden sense of deja vu hits him like a bullet.

It’s almost like when he first met Nathaniel, hopelessly crushing and too much of a shy mess to show him his writing.

He’s still hopelessly crushing now, but he’s also loosened enough and gotten enough confidence that he can show the other boy his writing, his passion.

But as he uncurls himself from shielding his notebook, it’s already too late.

The smile on Nathaniel’s face has dropped, the playfulness gone. Instead, his face shutters, replaced with an awkward grimace.

“Right. You’re right,” Nathaniel says stiffly, voice incredibly hard to read, but there’s unmistakable hurt in his eyes. He ducks his head, his bangs jostled from behind his ear, falling in front of his face in a fiery curtain to shield it once more. “I mean, you can’t write if someone’s forcing you… And it’s not like I’m an interesting subject, anyways. I wouldn’t make for good inspiration at all.”

“Th-that’s not true!” Marc snaps, without thought. The other boy jerks his head up, staring at him in shock. “You’re plenty interesting, Nathaniel! I’ve written about you before!”

Oh.

Oh no.

He did not mean to say that last part.

Nathaniel’s blue eyes are wide and gleaming like the sun glinting off the sea’s waves, staring soulfully at him, blue locking with green.

The moment stretches between them. Marc holds his breath. Or, more accurately, the breath feels like it’s been sucked straight from his lungs.

“You have…?” Nathaniel asks, voice soft. Awed, almost. He leans forwards, and Marc barely keeps himself from flinching backwards, stiffening in his seat. The other boy carefully places his fingers against the cover of the notebook still clutched to his chest, fingers splaying out to press his palm against the cover.

A siren blares in Marc’s scrambled and panicked mind, sounding suspiciously like the Kill Bill siren.

Nathaniel is touching his chest. There’s his notebook in the way, of course, but. Nathaniel is touching his chest.

Marc feels like he’s going to pass out. Whether from shock, blushing too hard, or not being able to breathe, he’s not sure. Maybe all three at once.

“Have you written about me in your notebook…?” Nathaniel asks wonderingly, dropping his gaze at the notebook in question, tapping a rhythm against the cover. Marc gulps thickly when the redhead looks back up at him, blue eye searching, lips slightly parted and looking very kissable right now.

“Pull yourself together, Marc,” he hisses to himself in his mind. “Do not kiss the boy.”

“S-s-sometimes,” he manages to choke out, voice squeaky, watching as Nathaniel’s eye widens and gleams. He averts his gaze, nervous and overwhelmed, clearing his throat. It doesn’t help his stutter. “W-when I c-c-can’t think of c-comic stuff.”

It’s a half-truth at best—barely truthful at all—because Marc pretty much exclusively writes about Nathaniel when he’s not working on their comic. Hell, he writes about Nathaniel even when he’s technically not writing about Nathaniel. Every romantic bone in his body, every scrap of adoration, is fueled through the dialogue he writes between Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Everyone’s praised their comics for having such realistic dialogue and fantastic chemistry between the main characters. What no one else realizes is that Marc pretty much writes everything ripped straight from talking to Nathaniel in real life, or from his own lovesick fantasies of what he wishes Nathaniel would say to him.

His sorry excuse for a half-baked half-truth is all Marc can come up with to not blurt out a full confession then and there and ruin everything.

“Can I read some of it…?” Nathaniel asks, voice thick with excitement and something else Marc can’t exactly name.

“Fuck no,” he thinks frantically and emphatically. “That’s embarrassing!”

The other boy bursts into raucous laughter, finally leaning out of Marc’s space, and the realization dawns that he just said that out loud.

God damn it.

Nathaniel’s head is thrown back as he laughs, the pale column of his neck on display and definitely the next thing about Nathaniel that will star in Marc’s future daydreams. Good Lord. He’s such a disaster, and Nathaniel has an unfairly nice neck.

Wait. That’s weird to think, right…? What is he, a vampire?!

Marc groans loudly and buries his burning face in his hands, no doubt red up to his ears.

“Kill me now,” he whines, while Nathaniel seems to laugh even louder. “Please.”

It takes Nathaniel a full twenty seconds before he manages to get himself somewhat under control. “B-But if you do, who’ll w-w-write about me?” he snorts, falling back into his laughing fit.

“Oh, I’ll write about you alright,” Marc says darkly, feeling mortified beyond belief, peeking between his gloved fingers to glare at his partner. “I’ll write your eulogy.”

“I-I’d be down,” the redhead wheezes out, clapping a hand on Marc’s shoulder. He wipes the tears of mirth from his eyes with the other hand, smiling wide. “I’m s-sure you’d write a bitchin’ eulogy.” He perks up. “Actually, maybe we could have that in our comic at some point! One of the heroes could fake their own death or something.”

“Sure, w-we can pull a Sherlock later,” Marc sighs, rubbing his face, the embarrassment barely receding. His cheeks still burn like a furnace beneath his fingertips; the pros of wearing fingerless gloves, he supposes.

Nathaniel squeezes his shoulder and jostles it playfully. “Hey, maybe you can write that scenario up for a future issue? It might be fun to see if we can fit it in later, and it’ll get you writing again!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll try it,” he groans, passing an irate hand through his hair, tugging at the dark strands. “Please stop man-handling me…”

“Sorry, sorry, it was for motivation’s sake,” Nathaniel jokes, but quickly lets his hand drop from Marc’s shoulder, respectful to a fault.

“It was hardly motivational…”

“No, I’m pretty sure it was.”

Marc levels him a flat look. Probably not as effective with a pink face, but. An attempt was made.

Nathaniel raises his hands in a placating motion, the motion decidedly cheeky when paired with the mischievous curl of his lips. “Alright, how about this? I try and tell you one last thing to inspire you to write. After that, I’ll leave you to it, ‘kay?”

Marc can’t help but feel a bit suspicious, raising a pointed brow at the other’s suggestion. “Really…?”

“Really,” the redhead nods.

“And this’ll be an actual inspirational statement…?”

“Hm. Well.” A pause. “I’d hope so?”

“Hmmmmm,” Marc hums, tapping at his chin. “I guess that’d be fine?”

So long as it was something to help distract Nathaniel from his huge slip-up, he was down for it.

“If you’re going to quote an anime theme song at me, I might reconsider, though,” Marc says in teasing warning, lips twitching into a grin.

The other pouts spectacularly at him, and Marc fights down a giggle at how ridiculously adorable he looks. “Ye of so little faith, Marc. Maybe I won’t say it after all—”

“No, no, please! Don’t stop because of me,” he says, giggling a bit and setting his notebook aside, carefully closed. “I’m all ears. Really.”

“Alright,” Nathaniel drawls out, blue eyes glittering.

And then he’s leaning in again, one arm propped on the table for balance, before Marc can say another word.

Nathaniel has a boyish grin on his face, lopsided and toothy, eyes half-lidded and piercing. It’s confident—bordering on flirtatious—an expression that seems nearly uncharacteristic for someone like Nathaniel.

But he makes it work.

Oh, does he make it work.

Marc’s face feels like it’s on fire, and his heart is back doing some complicated gymnastics routine. There’s about a foot of space between them, and the distance is steadily diminishing as Nathaniel leans in, closer and closer.

Marc’s breath stutters out, sounding shallow to his own ears, while his pulse skyrockets.

They’re nearly nose-to-nose by the time Marc wonders if he should be closing his eyes or not—because this is a kiss, right? How can it be anything else?—and then Nathaniel completely diverts his course.

Nathaniel’s silky hair flutters and brushes just slightly against the side of Marc’s cheek. He can feel the other’s breath puffing against his ear, and fights down a full-body shiver, nerves alighting all at once.

The redhead whispers right in Marc’s ear, “Start writing, or you’re straight.”

Marc sputters and wheezes, rearing his head back, feeling like Nathaniel had decided to sock him in the stomach instead of whatever the hell that was.

He gapes, mouth working frantically and only spilling out stuttered gibberish.

Nathaniel waits him out for a full five seconds, eyes bright, before he starts to snicker.

“N-Nathaniel,” he ends up whisper-yelling through a wheeze, which only sets off the boy in question. He finally backs away from Marc, out of his personal space, and starts cackling.

“I—Why—I c-can’t believe you,” he hisses, swatting at Nathaniel, who seems to cackle even harder. The redhead only makes a minimal effort to shield himself, too caught up in his mirth.

“S-s-straight Marc,” wheezes the redhead through his laughter, tears streaming down his face, his voice no longer capable of forming words afterwards.

“H-How dare you. I’m a proud heterophobe—” Nathaniel doubles over, clutching at his stomach. “—a-and I will not stand for this forced straight narrative.”

The other boy nearly falls off the bench. Marc—because he is a good friend, who cares for his dumbass friend-slash-crush-slash-tester of his patience—reaches out and catches him before he faceplants on the Art Club’s dirty and paint-splattered floor.

Nathaniel clutches at Marc’s token red hoodie, still absolutely hysterical.

“P-p-proud heterophobe!” he parrots back, planting his face on Marc’s shoulder.

“I was born Assigned Heterophobe At Birth,” Marc says, quite seriously, only to get a loud laugh all but in his ear in answer, for his troubles.

  ------

 It ends up taking Nathaniel a good four minutes straight (hah) in order to calm down. Every time he seemed to calm down a bit, one look at Marc’s flat and judgmental look, and he’d rev up all over again.

He’s been laugh-crying so hard, even snot was leaking out his nose. Nathaniel fumblingly wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his blazer, and with a grimace and a mutter, Marc hands him a tissue before he managed to smear snot all over his own arms.

And yet, Marc notes with a long-suffering sigh, he still thought Nathaniel looked cute— puffy eyes and snot and all. He had it bad.

He hadn’t even realized his crush had gotten to this point, but, well. It has.

He was fucked.

“I dedicate my life to the gay agenda, and this is the thanks I get?” Marc demands in the closest approximation of iconic offended resignation, only to trigger a peal of giggles from the redhead. “Listen, if you die because you laughed too hard at my stellar gay jokes, I will not be held accountable.”

“W-will you go t-to my funeral?” Nathaniel asks, much too brightly for a boy who’d nearly choked on his own spit from uncontrollable laughter.

“Didn’t we go over this earlier? I’d write your eulogy.”

“Ah, r-right,” the other snorts, grinning dumbly, all wide and toothy. It was a charming expression, Marc notes with fond exasperation. “Your bitchin’ eulogy skills.”

“Yes,” Marc sighs, smiling in spite of himself at his dumbass friend, smile no doubt grossly fond and gooey.

He couldn’t help it, either. He was useless against Nathaniel’s dorky charm.

“So…” Nathaniel starts, finally seemingly able to breath properly once more. “Did it work?”

He eyes the other warily. “Work…?”

“My inspirational statement,” Nathaniel states, quite seriously, smirking in a completely infuriating way.

“You call that an inspirational statement?!” he demands in a hiss, all the while Nathaniel snickers evilly. “I told you to tell me something to inspire me to write! Not—not whatever the hell that was.”

“I mean. I personally think it was pretty inspiring,” the redhead says innocently, blinking his big blue eyes. The overall effect was ruined by his sheer cheek.

“It might’ve been for you…!” Marc retorts. He plays up his offense by placing a hand on his chest like an aghast French noblewoman. “But I asked for inspiration, not a threat.”

“Hey, it’s still motivational, right?” Nathaniel snickers, propping his elbow on the table and leaning in close again. Marc feels his heart trip in his chest once more. If Nathaniel keeps this up, Marc might just need to go see a specialist or something; his heart doing non-stop frantic gymnastics probably wasn’t healthy. “And besides, if you just do what I said, you wouldn’t have to worry.”

“You’re the reason I’m a Professional Heterophobe,” Marc deadpans, which earns a bark of laughter from the other.

“Impossible. I’m bi,” Nathaniel says, so casually light and flippant, it felt impossibly fake. The slight tightening of his smile and the way he tapped his fingers restlessly on his arm only cemented this. “S-so. We’re actually gay solidarity.”

“Right,” Marc manages to say, mind whirring a mile a minute.

This didn’t mean anything. It didn’t. Just because Nathaniel is bi doesn’t mean he’ll like Marc back.

But.

It’s possible, however slight. And the chances are definitely higher than they were before, when Nathaniel had just been straight. Or not out of the closet yet.

The redhead’s entire posture has turned tense, fingers tapping quicker against his arm. He’s looking at Marc, cautious, gauging.

As if Nathaniel would ever have to be afraid of Marc, of all people. He was probably one of the most blatantly gay people at school, out and proud of it. He was also someone so ridiculously in love with Nathaniel Kurtzberg, he would never turn his back on him.

“Gay solidarity can only take you so far,” Marc starts, wagging a finger jokingly at Nathaniel. “You’re on thin ice for testing me, mister.”

Marc grins, trying for something casual and playful. The beaming smile he gets in return outstrips him a thousand times over.

“We’ll see,” Nathaniel replies, rather cryptically, but his smile isn’t dimmed at all by his vagueness. He shoves his bangs behind his ear, as he says, “Now, who’re we choosing to fake their death for later?”

“Mightillustrator, so Reverser can write his eulogy,” Marc suggests, half-joking, only to get a warm laugh and even warmer smile from the other boy.

“Can’t wait to draw it,” Nathaniel says softly, grabbing onto Marc’s right hand and squeezing it. Marc feels his breath catch, hand tingling from the points of contact. “And I can’t wait to read what you write about it.”

With the way Nathaniel’s looking at him—shy, blue eyes peering through his lashes—Marc lets himself smile shyly back and think, maybe… just maybe… the possibility isn’t as farfetched as he’s been thinking. Him and Nathaniel. As partners, and partners.

“I can’t wait either,” Marc replies, voice just as soft. It’s as if neither one wants to speak too loudly, to not break the moment, somehow.

Marc turns his hand over, threading his fingers with Nathaniel’s, and squeezes them together. Black-painted nails and black fingerless gloves settling perfectly together with a pale hand with bitten-off nails and wayward pen doodles on the knuckles and the palm lightly stained with paint.

Nathaniel ducks his head slightly, ears pink and smile wide enough to split his face.

Marc has to let go after a few seconds to pick up his pen and ready himself to write—he’s not ambidextrous as Nathaniel is, the talented bastard—but it doesn’t seem to matter. Nathaniel instantly scoots over on the bench, pressing their sides together, shoulders and elbows and thighs firmly connected.

Marc twirls his pen in his hand, looks over to beam at Nathaniel—who beams back—and then opens his notebook.

He feels like he won’t be able to write fast enough to capture all he’s feeling, this swell of emotions. Overwhelming joy, sweet fondness, a burst of giddiness, confused disbelief, a flutter of embarrassment, steady hope, and heart-thumping love.

He’s perfectly inspired, now.

So he puts his pen to paper, and writes.

...

[saltiestdemonloves]

Soft lips on your neck, carelessly nipping and sucking. You exhale shakily, hands gripping onto his denim jeans in dear life. He laughs, it was a soft puff of warm air on your sensitive skin and you squirm. Laughing again, he pulls away, even in the dark you could see his piercing blue eyes.

“Billy,” you sigh as his hand massages into your thigh. It moved up and down slowly, dragging across your pants that you desperately wished weren’t there. As if he were reading your mind, he sits up and holds himself above you. His hand moves from your thigh to your pants waistband and pulls firmly. Getting the clue, your hips lift automatically and he pulls again. They come off easier and slowly, excruciatingly slowly.

You become impatient. “Billy,” you whine.

His hand movements pause and you bite your lip, looking up at him sheepishly. His brow was raised and he held a stern expression. “What did we talk about?”

You push yourself back into his pillows, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” He turns his ear towards you and leans down.

“I-I’m sorry, Billy.”

He exhales softly, head shaking, his pretty ringlets crowing his face as he looks at you. For a moment, you think he’s going to be mad but the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to the edge of your lips and then resumes his action of pulling down your jeans.

Before the fun could resume, you both hear a car pulling up to the driveway. Both you and Billy freeze and he looks up, eyes wide.

You look in the direction of the sound, “Uh, w-when were your parents supposed to be home?”

He reaches for his clock and checks the time before muttering, “Shit! Not for another two hours.”

Suddenly, you’re being handled like a doll. He picks you up and then makes you stand up. Your jeans are shoved back on and your shirt tossed at you. Barely you catch it before he’s shoving you out the door and across the hall. “You’re staying over to help Max with her math.”

“R-Right.”

“Hey! No way am I-” Max starts to protest before Billy makes a noise that very clearly meant shut it. He backs out and slams Max’s door shut before you hear his own do the same.

Shakily, you pull your shit on. “I’m sorry, Max. If I knew your parents were coming home I would have invited Billy over to my place instead.”

She glares at me angrily over her comic book before scoffing, “Whatever. It’s not like I’m ever going to see you again.” She sighs, “Better think of some excuse as to why it doesn’t look like we studied at all, Mom and Neil always do a room check once their home.”

Grimacing, you look around the room for some alibi. You see Max’s backpack and lunge for it, opening it and digging out for a book. Any book. Thank God she actually had her math book with her. You snatch it, hop on her bed, and open to a page filled with loose-leaf paper.

Just as you start to catch your breath, the door handle jiggles before pulling open to reveal Max’s mother. You and Max both look up to smile, she stands back, looking surprised.

“Oh, hello! Who are you?”

“I’m Y/n. I came over to help her study? I hope that’s alright.”

Max’s mother looks at her daughter for confirmation, Max reluctantly nods and forces a smile. “Yeah, but we’re just finishing up, aren’t we, Y/n?”

Sighing softly, you nod and close the book, setting it down on her bed. “Yeah, your daughter’s pretty smart. Just a few equations and she was set.”

Her mother beams a parent’s proud smile and rests her hand on her chest, “Well, I’m so glad to hear.” She looks over at Max and asks, “Did you guys already have dinner?”

Shaking her head, Max answers, “No, not yet.”

“Well, I can whip something up real quick for you guys. Dad and I had dinner out so we’ve already eaten. Y/n do you want me to fix you up something?”

Shaking your head quickly, you stand, “No, no, you don’t need to worry about me. I should be heading home anyways.”

“Nonsense, I don’t mind at all. You just stay here with Max and I’ll fix up some mac-n-cheese and chicken tenders, how about it?”

“Sounds... good,” you say with a pained smile. She grins, none the wiser, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. You exhale a sigh of relief and rub your forehead before turning to Max. “Thank you.”

She just rolls her eyes.

“Actually, I was looking at your math and... do you need help? It looks like you’re struggling a little bit.”

“No.”

Holding your hands up you shrug, “Alright, alright. I could... write down all the answers with the work and you can copy it.” You watch with a smile as her eyes flick up to you and she slowly lowers the comic.

“Really?”

“Sure, haven’t any of Billy’s other girls offered payback?”

Max snorts and shakes her head, “No way. They’re in and out and what words are said between us aren’t that nice.”

“Oh,” you pout. “Well, I’m different. I won’t be mean, at least not intentionally.”

“So you’ll really do my homework for me?”

“Just this once,” You clarify. “If you really want my help, then I suggest you actually take me up on some tutoring sessions. I can leave you my number if you change your mind?”

“Okay...” she seems hesitant as if in any second you’d do something cruel. Instead, you give her a grin and ask her to find you a few pages of paper and a pencil.

You work pretty quickly, it was just above the standard stuff on difficulty. It was an easy enough thing to do for a senior. Once finished you hand of the paper, “There. That should cover it. I’d honestly try messing up a few so it doesn’t look too suspicious but that is up to you.”

“Thanks,” Max says, taking the page from you with glee.  She shoves it into a notebook on her nightstand.

“Billy, Max, Y/n, come eat!” You two hear. Grimacing, you both look at each other before standing and going for the door. You pause before reaching it, giving yourself a once over. Max comes up from behind you and pats your back.

“You look fine,” she says. “Billy’s always careful about evidence. Whatever that means.”

“...Thanks.”

She leads you through the hallway to the dinner table where her mom had placed three plates, already stacked with food.

“Wow, thanks, Mrs. Hargrove.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she says with a smile. “A way to pay back for helping out my Maxine.”

She pats Max’s cheek before giving you a kind smile. She joins her husband in the living room where he was watching t.v and reading the newspaper. 

Max sits at the end of the table, leaving you with the option of two plates beside each other. You choose the one closest to her and sit, picking up the fork awkwardly just as Billy makes his way into the dining room.

He’s silent, barely looks at you as he takes his seat. You wonder if he’s angry you didn’t find an excuse to leave. Or push harder to get out of here. You’re slowly shoveling the food that, while your mind was very distracted, tasted like nothing but mush.

Suddenly, you feel pressure on your knee and realize that Billy was squeezing it. Your chewing slows and you peek over at him to see that he wasn’t looking up at his food at all, chewing on a piece of chicken tender while staring into space.

You blink and turn your focus back to your food. Awfully conscious of the hand the was creeping ever slowly up your thigh. Your skin tingled, like electricity buzzing, your heart pulsing quickly, spreading it.

“So Y/n,” his voice came so suddenly you nearly jump out of your skin. You hate how on edge he makes you. “How did you get here?”

You pause a moment, glancing up to see their parents staring at you curiously. With a clear of your throat, you answer, thankfully without your voice giving yourself away, “I had a friend drop me off on the way.”

“How were you planning on getting back home?”

“W-Walking.”

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “That won’t do. How about I give you a ride now that our parents are home to keep an eye on Max hm?”

“That would be great,” you say softly.

Billy looks up to his dad, “Is that alright.”

It looks like he was going to say no for a moment before he hesitates, looks at his watch before sighing and nodding, “Yeah that’s fine.”

Turning back to you, Billy asks, “You wanna go after your done eating?”

“Yes, please.” You could barely get the words out as Billy’s hand inches closer and close up. 

His hand leaves all to suddenly and he grins, “Great.”

Everyone finishes their dinner quickly after that and Max is fast to vanish back into her bedroom. You carry your plate to their kitchen and make a move to start cleaning them when Billy’s hand sneak up behind you. Taking the plates before you can and setting them down on the counter.

He presses himself against you and pins you to the counter, whispering into your ear, “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just go.”

“Right.” You murmur.

You take a few seconds to thank the Hargroves for welcoming you into their home and for letting you eat before quickly slipping out behind Billy towards his car.

He stays silent as you both climb in and he starts the car. He’s even silent after we’re five minutes in.

“B-Billy?” You say anxiously. “Um, are you mad?”

He looks at you with a look of bewilderment, “What?”

“Well you’re just being really quiet and it’s making me nervous.”

“Oh,” he laughs. “No, just... just in my head, I guess.”

“Really, about what?”

“Nothing?” his shoulders shrug. “Just thinking about driving and whatever else. Why would you think I’m mad?”

“I don’t know. I guess whenever a guy I know has been mad at me they’ve given me the silent treatment.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’m not mad at you, no way. You’re an angel.”

Giggling, you give a satisfactory nod, “Good. And thank you.”

Billy chuckles before letting out an annoyed groan, “Can’t believe they came home so early though. I would have wanted to have some more fun.”

“Well...” you grin, “this weekend my parents are going to see my aunt for her baby shower and it’s an adult-only event. Wanna come over then?”

Billy’s smile widens and he gives you a toothy smile, winks, then nods, “It’s a date.”

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: T

Chapter Summary:  Chat Noir brings up some renovations the base could use. Also, he and Ladybug flirt decide to study together.

Word Count: 2065 | Chapter 2/?

XXX

It was almost funny—in a twisted sort of way—how she could go from fighting for her life to panicking about her grades.

Today’s akuma had struck while she was supposed to be studying for her first physics exam.  Even with Rena Rouge and Carapace providing backup, the fight through Lord Labyrinth’s twisting maze had taken three hours.  

And, to top it off, she was stranded on the opposite side of the city.

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” Tikki said, curled up into a ball in her palms.  “You’re sure you don’t have even a crumb left?”

She patted her empty pockets.  “Nothing.”  

Tikki had already eaten her five backup macarons, two emergency protein bars, and even a crepe she’d snagged with the last of her change.  She couldn’t afford much more on a university budget.  Tikki didn’t always need to recharge after using Lucky Charm anymore, but she also couldn’t go on forever.

“The hideout is closer than your school, right?  We could stop there, then I can transform you and get you home.”

“Good idea, Tikki.”  Marinette pressed a quick kiss to her head before slipping her into her backpack, which had reappeared once she’d detransformed.  The heavy weight of her laptop and notebook pulling on her shoulders only added to her exhaustion.

“There’s a good entrance the next street over…”

Soon enough she was dropping down into the damp sewer.  In comic books, didn’t the heroes have cool hideouts?  But she couldn’t complain.  Chat may have been the one to suggest the location, but she’d agreed that it was the safest bet.  At least it would be a place she could rest for a minute.

The secret base was disguised from the outside, thanks to Rena Rouge’s new long-lasting illusion.  Marinette could only spot the door by looking for a specific pattern in the wall—four slightly shimmery bricks at about eye level.  She still patted the wall in three different places before brushing the secret handle.

“Finally,” she breathed, fumbling for the padlock.  Once she pulled it just out of the illusion’s range, she could enter the password.  Four letters, one on each dial.

HOME.  She’d thought it was too obvious, but Chat Noir had teared up once he’d seen the lock’s default password, and she couldn’t bring herself to change it.

With the lock still in hand, she stepped into the room— 

—Only to hear someone yelp and fall off the couch.

“Who is it?  Who’s there?”  Chat Noir’s voice rang out.

Marinette nearly jumped back and slammed the door.  But thankfully, Chat’s hand was covering his eyes. 

His ungloved hand.  Thankfully, he’d at least had the sense to cover his miraculous with some kind of… hair scrunchie?  Oh well, whatever worked.

“Don’t look!”  She said redundantly.  If he’d gotten a glimpse of her, it was already too late.

“I won’t, I pawmise.”

She took her fake mask from its hook and slipped it over her face.  Then she shoved her backpack and shoes into the cabinet labeled LADYBUG, exchanging them for a long green hoodie that was too big to wear in public.  Thankfully it was cool down in the sewers, even during the late summer. 

The wooden cabinet door hadn’t been the product of a Lucky Charm, and it hung at a lopsided angle when she shut it.

“Alright.”  She sighed.  “You can look now.”

Chat Noir dropped his arm and stood, his eyes widening beneath the fabric mask as he took her in.  

Strangely, she wanted to squirm under his gaze.  It wasn’t like she looked that different outside of her suit, and the fake mask would still hide her identity.  But Chat’s eyes… the black fabric didn’t change his scleras, and she found herself transfixed by the new shade of spring green.  She hadn’t seen him like this since they’d swapped miraculouses while fighting against Reflekta and Reflekdoll.

“What?  Hotter than you expected?”  He grinned, flexing his arm under his Ladybug-themed hoodie.  At least he’d been smart enough to bring an outfit change too.

“Trying to win me over by buying my merch now?” She raised an eyebrow.  Pretty eyes or not, he was still Chat Noir.  She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting flustered.

“No, I’m trying to win you over by being pawsomely charming. This,” he tugged at the hem of his hoodie, “is just because I have taste.”

“I guess I can’t fault you there.”  She stepped over to him and straightened the drawstrings hanging from his hood.  It was still weird, seeing him in normal clothes, being forced to confront the fact that Chat Noir was a regular university student, just like her.  She knew that, of course, but with his over-the-top puns and flirting, it sometimes felt like he belonged in a comic book.

“We need a doorbell.  You could’ve seen me before I had the chance to put on my mask.”  She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of that sooner.  She’d assumed heroes would stop here individually, or arrive transformed.  It wasn’t like her to miss such an obvious problem; the stress of classes must be getting to her.

“You could’ve just knocked, you know.”  He smirked.

“...I didn’t expect anyone to be here,” she admitted, face heating.  “The lock was still on.  How did you even get in?”

“I had Plagg put it back on just in case I ended up taking a catnap.  But don’t worry about it, bugaboo.  We’ll both be more prepared next time.”

His smile hit differently outside of his transformation.  Stupidly, she found herself just staring into his eyes again.

“Great, now we’re going to have to watch the lovebirds in person.”  Plagg gagged from his spot on the counter.  It didn’t stop him from swallowing a wedge of cheese immediately after, though.

“And I’m going to have to smell you in person,” Tikki said, waving her arm in front of her face.

“We’re in a sewer!  How much stinkier can it get?”

Marinette laughed.  It wasn’t often she got to see Plagg, much less him and Tikki together.

“When it comes to month-old camembert, it can always get stinkier,” Chat said.  “Trust me.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”  Marinette didn’t have a very good sense of smell, anyway.  That was convenient when your secret base was located in the sewers.

“I think we’ll be fine coming here without our suits as long as everyone knocks first,”  Chat said, plopping back down on the couch.  “We’ve already got changes of clothes that won’t identify us.  Rena and Carapace dropped theirs off when they were adding their improvements yesterday.”

“Improvements?”  Marinette raised an eyebrow, not that he could see under her mask.

“I told them it would be okay; I didn’t think you’d mind.  Carapace just thought it would be smart to put a Shellter around the Miracle Box.  The kwamis can phase through it with their miraculouses, but no one can reach inside to steal them.”

She stepped up to the entertainment center and opened the cabinet with the miracle box.  Sure enough, there was a glowing green barrier around the red egg.

“That’s a good idea, but… what if the kwamis don’t know they’re needed?  They can’t hear us when they’re inside their magical world.”

Chat’s face fell.  It was weird, not seeing his ears and tail droop, but the rest of his body language was still so expressive.

“I didn’t think of that.”

“It’s okay.”  She stepped over and put a hand on his shoulder.  “It really was a good idea.  You didn’t know.”  

Master Fu had given her more training on being the Guardian than he had Chat Noir.  All the Master said on the matter was that Chat’s schedule wouldn’t allow it.

He nodded.  “I’ll have him take it down next time I see him.”

Maybe they could still use Shellter in other ways; she’d have to think about that.  If only all four of them could control the shield.  That would make an excellent way to protect the base.

“You said Rena made some changes too?”

“Oh, right!”  He sprung up again, then vaulted over the back of the couch to reach the kitchen.  Apparently he was athletic even without the suit.  “She brought some cooking supplies.  Also, she was asking if we had any plans to add a bathroom.”

“A bathroom?  This isn’t a hotel.”  Marinette rubbed her temples.  She wasn’t a plumber.  She couldn’t just Lucky Charm up a functioning toilet.

Plagg let out a loud burp.  “She’s right.  Who needs a fancy kitchen or a bathroom when you’ve got a fridge full of cheese?”

Chat glared at him.  “Some of us aren’t magical kwamis who never need to pee.”

“That’s what the sewer’s for, isn’t it?”

“Not that kind of sewer!”  He smacked his forehead.

Marinette was doing her best not to burst out laughing.  Chat Noir might wear the clown suit, but Plagg was the clown suit.

“I’ll see if I can come up with anything,” she assured him.  Having a bathroom down here would be nice, though she didn’t know how to pull that off yet.  There was a locker room for sanitation employees that they could probably use, but it would be risky, whether they went suited up or not.

This was supposed to be just a simple meeting place.  She should’ve known that doing anything with Chat Noir couldn’t be simple.

Maybe we should’ve gone with his first idea of renting an apartment, she thought as she poured herself a glass of milk.  It looked like Alya had brought disposable cups along with the griddle, spatulas, and utensils strewn on the counter.  She really should try Lucky Charming up some drawers.  Or at least break out the dragon miraculous and cut a few more cabinets into the rock.

“So what brings you here, anyway?”  Chat asked while lounging against the counter.  “Hoping you’d run into a handsome black cat?”

He slicked his hair back in a way he probably thought was suave.  Instead he just ended up skewing his mask, and he blinked in surprise.  Or maybe winked.  It was hard to tell with the fabric covering up one of his eyes.

“Tikki needed a break before heading home.  You saw how many Lucky Charms I used today.”  She held out her cup, letting Tikki dunk her cookie in it before she took another sip.

“You were amazing.  Building a trebuchet out of the pieces it gave you?  Genius.”

She punched him lightly.  “Flatterer.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true, my lady.”  He winked.

Stop that, she told her heart when it picked up its pace.  It didn’t listen, especially when he leaned in towards her.

It’s those stupid eyes.  Those stupid, gorgeous eyes.

“I still can’t believe you launched my staff at just the right angle to hit the akumatized object over the wall. You wouldn’t happen to be a physics major, would you?”

“A what?”  She blinked before his words actually sunk in.  Then she nearly dropped her cup of milk on the counter.  “Oh no!  The physics exam!”

“...So that’s a yes?”

“No.”  Her face flopped on the stone counter.  Ow.  “I’m terrible at physics.  I just have to take the intro class, and I was supposed to study for the test today, but then Lord Labyrinth took forever and,” she took a deep breath, “I just really don’t want to.”

She’d never procrastinated in her life.  Well, not on purpose, anyway.  She just had too much to do to afford it.

“Even superheroes need breaks, you know.”  He rubbed her shoulder, his touch gentle without his claws.  “But if you do want to study… could I help you?  I’ve took a few physics classes last year.  They were a-mass-ing.”

“Really?”  They didn’t talk much about their school lives—mostly for identity reasons, but also because they usually didn’t have the time.  She never would’ve picked him out as a science guy.  Theatre, maybe.

“Yeah.  You could say I had a lot of potential.”  

She groaned.  “Oh no.  I can’t take cat puns and science puns.  If you keep this up, I’ll just take my chances with failing.”

“What?  Do you think there’s too much friction between us?”

“Chat.” She glared on principle, even though she had to admit that one was almost funny.

“Alright, alright, I’m done.”  He grinned.  “Grab your notes and we can get started.”

[kristannarubbish]

The Comic and the Bartender

.[A/N] Hey peeps! I decided to write a 1950scomedian!anna au because I was inspired by this post from @awesomemaple and I’ve been wanting to write a 1950s Kristanna au for awhile. I also love The Marvelous Mrs. Masiel  I hope you all enjoy!!!

[A/N 2] I know I can do better with titles but it’s 1 AM and I have class tomorrow

Rated: M? (There’s cursing and lots of innuendo, along with some violence/blood)

WC: 2.8k

Pairing: Kristanna (as always)

Anna wiped her pale hands down the full skirt of her green dress as she sat in the back corner of the bar. Her hands were clammy as she always were before a set. Even though she plays at her favorite dingy downtown bar at least once a week and is well loved there, those stage fright nerves still come and bite a good half hour before she goes on. Pulling her magenta leather notebook from her purse, Anna took a deep breath as an attempt to center herself. She opened it up and caught a glimpse of the first page where she had scribbled out the word COMEDY in bold black letters. 

Kristoff ducked behind the bar and got to work. Before he knew it, there were people asking left and right for different concoctions of alcohol. Sven had the shift before him and he was a real slacker, always telling people he would “get to them in a minute,” but never actually did. It was a small venue but damn, did people downtown like to drink. But when he got a free moment, he glanced over at Anna, a comedian who claimed this as her home club, and give her a thumbs up when she eventually caught him looking at her. She would flash him a million dollar smile and he would blush. He felt like a school boy.  

Kristoff loved helping Anna with her sets. Some days, he would look forward to coming to work just so she could test a few new jokes out on him, even if they needed work at first. There was nothing he loved more than when they would be alone before the club opened, while she had worked on some new jokes on the stage with him as her only audience member. 

“And that is how I got kicked out of my first- and last- Debutante ball!” Anna announced with a smile to her single-person audience earlier that day. Her ending was a tad shaky, but she always got a little nervous around Kristoff. She didn’t know why but she could get in front of hundreds of people no problem but he always shook her up like a snow globe.

“A-Anna…” Kristoff said coming off of a big laugh. She was hilarious. He calmed down and looked at her nervously, “Anna that joke will get you arrested.”

“I know,” she said with an alarmingly light air, “but it’ll be worth it.”

He sighed while shaking his head. A chuckle escaped his lips as he pushed down the warm feeling in his chest. He just didn’t want to see her get hurt. 

Kristoff had seen comics from all over New York, but he knew she had something special. Knowing this, he had tried not to get too hung up on her. She was going to make it big, and everyone who saw her knew that.

After exchanging smiles with Kristoff, her favorite bartender, Anna directed her attention back to her leather bound notebook. She carefully reviewed her set as she had a time or two before this moment, she liked to keep herself fresh, and tried desperately not to dwell too much on exactly what she was going to say. Overthinking usually equated bombing to her, which was not convenient for a worrier like herself. The feisty redhead liked to have the words just flow out of her, most of the time that worked in favor, and other times it certainly did not. The walls of the 8th Precinct’s holding cell were only slightly familiar to her.

In 1957, a comic’s use of free speech was not exactly favored by the law, much less a woman comic’s use of free speech. Just the fact that Anna Arendelle was a woman on a stage that wasn’t singing and doing a little dance already had the police ready at the door, eyeing her, just waiting for her to say one small obscene thing. 

It drove her mad.

In that moment, while lost in thought, Anna felt a tap on her shoulder. “Anna?” The club’s runner, Mattias snapped her out of her own little world with a slight smile. He was like a father figure to her, considering he was the one to get her to start doing comedy in the first place, and her real father was stuck in the haze of New York’s finest socialites. “Anna, you’re up after this guy,” He pointed to a man on stage doing some somber slam poetry that somehow involved a slide whistle and a set of bongos. She chuckled and gave him a nod. 

To get her mind off of overthinking her set, she touched up her nude pink lipstick and straightened out the skirt of her dress. For a woman comic, being pretty was a part of the job. If you didn’t look presentable that day, you automatically weren’t funny.

Before she knew it, time was up and Mattias was on the stage smiling at her, “Without further ado, the funny lady we all know and love here at The North Mountain, Anna Arendelle everybody!” The crowd erupted the applause and whistles as she climbed up onto the small stage at the intimate venue. Kristoff had let out a “Go Anna!” from behind the bar. She smiled at him and waved at him shyly with flushed cheeks. He turned as red as a beet.

Anna hid her slight nervousness behind a smile as she took the microphone in her hand. “Good evening downtown!” The crowd let out their last few cheers as Anna began her set.

“So believe it or not I used to be a debutante,” she paused, “yeah, let’s say I’m not surprised that doesn’t get a response downtown.” People giggled, and she beamed. It got her started. “My father is some- well I don’t know what my father actually does. Do any of us know what our father’s actually do? I mean everyone has probably asked what their fathers do for a living and they’ll usually just go,” Anna put on a deep, gruff voice, ‘You wouldn’t understand’.” She put a confused look on, switching back to her normal voice, “I see some of the people in the audience have never experienced this, well that my friend, is because you are men. And work is men to men talk. But do you know what isn’t men to men talk? A debutante ball. All the men have to do with that is hand the checkbook to their wives. Which is an unfortunate societal standard for women, but I did not come here tonight to lecture you all the sexism that is pervasive in our society.”

There were always people rushing to the bar for a drink on Saturday nights, but all of that stopped when Anna got on stage. She captivated everyone’s attention with a single smile. Including Kristoff’s. With no one bugging him for an extra dry martini or another pint of beer, he could put all his undivided attention on her. She looked gorgeous up there with her fiery red hair and eyes as blue and vibrant as the sky on a warm spring day. Sometimes, she would look over at him for reassurance and his stomach would suddenly be home to hundreds of butterflies. He always tried his best to give her a thumbs up and a smile. She would press on and he would continue to be captivated by her. 

“So the whole thing with a Debutante Ball is everyone has to seem as perfect as possible even though we know all know everyone’s families are utter messes, like how Rachel was definitely sleeping with her dog sitter and her husband didn’t know. Or how my best friend Olaf single handedly spent over a thousand dollars of his daddy’s money in one day. Or how I was the most obscene Debutante in the history of New York City.” the crowd laughed along with her.

“Or at least I was in comparison to my sister, Elsa. You see my sister is the most… hmm, what's a good word… stoic! Yes, that’s a good word, the most stoic person I have ever met. She just does what she is supposed to and moves on. Like a normal person. I am incapable of that, however. I would constantly be making quote unquote ‘inappropriate jokes’ about people I shouldn’t have been. Well, jokes on them, that’s what I do for a living now!” Everyone laughed along with her, which was no surprise. In that moment, officers arrived at the door. Anna didn’t notice at first, but Kristoff did, he automatically was braced himself for the worst. His happy disposition switched to one of a gruff bartender.

“Officers!” Anna said, making the audience whistle, “You arrived just in time, I’m getting to the good stuff!” They took a step towards the stage, “Ah ah ah! I haven’t said anything obscene yet.” They grumbled and waited, handcuffs at the ready. Kristoff kept his eyes locked on them. She wouldn’t purposefully be more obscene, would she?

“Anyway! Before I was rudely interrupted,” the crowd laughs in response. They weren’t the ones about to get arrested, so it wasn’t their problem. Anna looked over at Kristoff as he mouthed the words “be careful” with pleading eyes. A flame shot up in her chest. Why did he make her feel this way? She couldn’t decide what to do, but she went with her gut. She kept going. It was almost too late now anyway.

“Let’s make a long story short, I had a fling with the man of the Military Academy escorting me,” the crowd ooo-ed and aah-ed at a woman being so upfront with her sexuality. The officers warmed up their handcuffs in the doorway. Kristoff had heard this joke before, but it was still a little shocking. I mean, he had sex with other people too, so it wouldn’t be a problem if they decided- what was he thinking?! She is going to be a star, not… getting together with me, he thought. There are more important things to worry about right now.

“I’m still not sure how it happened, we were at the rehearsal ball and he said to me: ‘You look gorgeous in white’ and I said ‘I think you’d be gorgeous with your clothes off’.” The crowd gasped and laughed. The officers approached the stage and Anna braced herself, starting to skirt away from them a bit. “My mouth has always been great at moving faster than my mind, if you couldn’t tell. And in case you’re wondering, he thought so too.” Kristoff laughed but watched nervously from behind the bar.

Anna made her way around the club, mic still in hand as the officers gave her slight chase, “If it makes anyone feel any better, he then continued to screw me over for a year afterwards! In more ways than one! Neither of them good! I’m Anna Arendelle, goodnight!” The crowd stood up and erupted with cheers for her, which she had to admit, still felt good despite the circumstances.

The cops finally grabbed her by the arms as she slowed down, and they put her in handcuffs, causing her to drop the mic on the floor without warning. The audience continued to cheer despite them roughing her up, her updo coming undone. She screamed as they tugged at her hair by “accident.”

How are the cheering? Kristoff thought as he ducked from behind the bar. “Anna!” He called out from the other side of the dim club. Without thinking, he ran over to the situation, ripping the officer off Anna. “Don’t touch her like that!” He shouted in his face as he punched the officer in the nose. Anna gasped along with the rest of the bar.

“Kristoff!” Mattias shouted from behind the podium, “Damnit!” Mattias ran to the fallen microphone, over all the commotion, “Give us one moment for technical difficulties!” Before he could do anything, Kristoff was already in handcuffs next to Anna. Mattias couldn’t help but facepalm.

“I see you want to take a trip down to the station with your little chickadee here!” The officer shouted in his face.

“I am not a chickadee!” Anna struggled to get the words out as she was a bit out of breath. Kristoff was a bit taken aback that she didn’t say he wasn’t his chickadee. Kristoff, more important things to worry about, and she’s not your chickadee anyway! He thought to himself.

Before they knew it, Anna and Kristoff were in the back of a cop car together, in uncomfortable silence. The car smelled like cheap fake leather seats and marijuna. He really stood up for me, Anna smiled at the thought, then over at him. She couldn’t say she was surprised, Kristoff was the kindest, most caring man she had ever met.  

“Thank you,” Anna mouthed at him, softening the harshness of the shared silence. 

“Anytime, feisty pants,” He mouthed then smiled back. Little did they know, both of their hearts were bursting and their stomachs full of butterflies. She didn’t know someone standing up for her for her could feel so... nice. She had always been defending herself as a woman comic. 

When they got to the fluorescent lit 8th Precinct, the two officers- one with a dried bloody nose, had made the mistake of putting the two of them in holding cells next to each other. The two of them sat next to each other on cold, metal benches with only a cold set of bars separating them. 

They talked the night away, Anna rambling on, cracking joke after joke, while Kristoff played along and would even joke with her. Both of them were suddenly more nervous around the other- well more than normal anyway. 

Anna could not stop thinking about how handsome he looked in this light, well in every light actually. Along with that, her mind would not stop racing with how amazing he was to her. Oh my God, do I like him? She thought. Jesus, of course I do! Oh God, oh fuck. What if he doesn’t like me back? For once, her mind was moving faster than her mouth.

Kristoff could not get over how gorgeous her hair looked down. He didn’t think he had ever seen it down. He was imagining seeing in down every morning waking up by her side, but then soon chased the thought away with the same reminder he had been giving himself for months that she was going to be big one day, and didn’t have time for someone like him.

As the two of them snickered and kept having instances of longing eye contact, or their hands brushing through the bars, a new officer came in to unlock their cells. “Your bail has been posted,” he sighed.

Anna smiled at him, “Thank you Daniel.” Kristoff didn’t know if he should chuckle or be concerned at the fact that she had been here enough times to know the guards name.

The two of them walked down the stairs, giggling and joking just as they had all night, just to stop dead in their tracks at the sight of Mattias. After a moment of silence, both of them started profoundly apologizing at the same time. 

Before either of you say anything,” he stopped them from speaking further, “I’m not mad, I think both of you did the right thing. But just know that this came out of both of your paychecks. I’ll see you both tonight. On time.” He softened his face and smiled, “I’m proud.” And without another word, Mattias left. That was probably for the best.

They glanced at each other. Anna looked up at the light pouring through the windows. It was already morning. 

“Hey, are you hungry by any chance? Do you want to get breakfast?” Anna played with her fingers and looked up at him with a soft face, “like… not as friends?” She paused, reading his face. “W-wait! Not like, we’re not friends but like… we’re more than friends? I didn’t mean to-”

“Anna, that sounds amazing,” Kristoff felt his stomach do a happy backflip, “I would love nothing more.” He held out his hand for her at the exit. “Are you ready?”

Anna nodded eagerly and took his hand, “Yeah, I’m ready.” They both had a feeling she was talking about more than breakfast. “I told you getting arrested was worth it.”

[clericbyers]

nancy helping trans girl!mike pick out a name

Nancy knocked on the wooden rail for the staircase down to the basement to alert Mike about her arrival. The young girl looked up from her seat at the usual D&D table, hand stilling as her scribbles in a notebook came to a stop. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and chuckled lightly to herself as Nancy came to settle down next to her.

“Came down to say hello,” Nancy smiled as she watched Mike indiscreetly shove the notebook aside. “What are you working on?”

Mike frowned. “Nothing much.” She played with the sleeves of her colorful sweater and gave Nancy a glance. “I mean, it’s something but...I don’t know if you want to help.”

“You know I’ll help you with whatever you need,” Nancy reached out to overlay her sister’s hand with her own. “Tell me what’s up; it’ll stay between us.”

Mike fidgeted again and then reopened the notebook with a sigh. She flipped to a page and then turned the paper until Nancy could read the chicken scratch scrawl. “I’m, uh, I’m trying to pick out a name. Since Mike isn’t, well, that’s not...that’s not my name.”

Her voice was soft and nervous and Nancy just wanted to pull her in for a hug. Nancy read over some of the names with a small hum and started speaking some aloud. “Grace, Juliet, Sarah, Jessica...”

“None of them sound right,” the girl groaned, running her hands down her face with frustration. She reached back to pull on her ponytail with a pout and then waved a passing hand. “I’ve been trying to figure something out for days now. I think I’m just too used to Mike already.”

Nancy cocked her head to the side. “Just because you’re used to it doesn’t mean you should settle for something that makes you uncomfortable.” She squeezed her sister’s hand with a smile. “Here, I’ll help look up some names, too. I think Mom still has her baby names book from when she and Dad were trying to find names for Holly. We’ll brainstorm together; two brains is better than one, right?”

She smiled warmly, a light in her eyes that wasn’t there when Nancy first came down to check in on her. “Thanks, Nance.”

“No need to thank me.”

Nancy was able to find the book and the two sisters spent at least an hour scouring through names and testing them out. It was difficult finding something that the young girl would like, something that fit the woman she wanted to be, something that echoed her and gave her comfort in being addressed as so. “This is a million times harder than naming my paladin,” she groaned ugly, head hanging upside down off the couch as Nancy kept searching through the book. “Everything sounds so plain and stupid! I don’t see a ‘Courtney’ when I look in the mirror! I sure as hell don’t see a ‘Portia’.”

Nancy laughed and patted her sister’s leg before slamming the book shut. “What was your naming process for your paladin?”

Brown eyes slowly turned to Nancy with a narrowed gaze. “Me and the boys picked up one of your old 8th grade history textbooks and picked some names from the 1700s European history section.”

“Let’s do that then,” Nancy stood up and walked over to a stack of books in the corner of the room. “We keep trying to pick something from scratch but there’s no harm in picking a name from someone you admire. That’s how nicknames happen, too!”

“Right,” she drawled but followed Nancy anyway, settling down next to her. “But there’s a bunch of boy names in history textbooks.”

“Then we’ll use something else, it doesn’t matter.” Nancy opened up an old romance novel her mom had stored down here years ago. She flipped through it and then grinned. “Oh, how about Riley?”

The other girl made a face. “Riley? No.”

Nancy picked up another book. “Sam?”

“I already said no to that a couple days ago.”

“Parker.”

There was a small pause. “Maybe.”

Nancy sent her a grin. “See? We’ll work something out. Grab your comic box, girl, we have some searching to do.”

The two spend another hour making a bit of a mess in the basement searching for names. By the time their mom came downstairs to bring them up for dinner, there were three potential names in the basket: Parker, Logan (from Wolverine, who also chose the name Logan as she happily explained), and Rowan. Nancy could barely contain her smile when her sister came up the stairs sharing the names with her mom and trying to figure out which one would work best. Karen sent Nancy a look full of gratefulness and Nancy ducked her head shyly and patted her sister’s back as they made their way to the dining table. As usual, their dad wasn’t there; he had taken up avoiding all interaction with the family after his middle child came out as transgender, but Nancy barely saw a difference really in his lack of presence. She much preferred seeing her sister smiling and chatting as animatedly as she usually did than stifled by fear and the potential to be purposefully misgendered by a bigot for hours on end.

The Wheeler home was one of the few places that allowed the young girl to find herself and be herself, so Nancy definitely appreciated their dad’s commitment to ignoring them. She just wished he could be supportive but that obviously wasn’t going to be an option.

“Mike,” Holly blabbed at the table as she made grabby hands toward the bowl of mashed potatoes. “I want potatoes.”

“Rowan,” she corrected with a grin, passing along the bowl anyway. “You can call me Rowan. For now at least.”

Holly cocked her head to the side but then smiled widely. “Rowan! That sounds fancy.”

Rowan smiled at her younger sister and took the potato bowl back. “Does it now?” Her eyes shifted to her mom, who was watching her three daughters with something like admiration in her eyes.

“Nancy, Rowan, and Holly all sound very fancy to me.” Karen beamed and spooned peas onto Holly’s plate. “Three fancy and gorgeous names for three fancy and gorgeous girls.”

[tangerinesteve]

Eight Weeks

( @dannyd0ritos​ I DID IT MY FRIEND! AND TUMBLR ACTUALLY LET ME MENTION YOU LOOK AT THAAAAATTTT! sorry for the caps i am...exhausted. but i did it. thank you so much for the request! sorry it took so long but thanks for being a good sport and here it is! finally done!!! and gift wrapped just for you! <3)

“Last time you were this quiet, we were 12. Ran down the stairs wearing Grace’s heels, tripped over, and broke your jaw. How long was it wired shut again?”

Klaus sighed.

“Eight weeks.”

The memories slammed into him surprisingly hard, considering the amount of vodka in his blood. He shut his eyes tight and rested his head against the window, his head pounding for several different reasons, none of them good.

~***~

The heels had been a good idea. They had. The stairs on the other hand, not so much. He remembers falling. And he remembers the pain shooting through his head when he landed face first on the landing. He remembers screaming for help. And he remembers his vision going blurry, the last thing he remembers seeing is Diego’s face, covered in worry. He hears his brother scream for help, scream for mom. And then everything fades away.

The trip to the hospital is non-existent in his memory, the trip back is hazy. He remembers a bright flash of florescent lights, and silence, he remembers the silence in the hospital. The lights flashed in his eyes for a brief second, but the silence echoed in his head as he woke up in his bed. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. He coughed and almost screamed. His hand shot to his face, or tried to. There was a hand around his wrist, catching his hand seconds before it touched his face.

“Hey. Hey it’s okay. You’re at home. It’s okay.” Diego’s voice floated to him through the haze in his head. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes at that.

“Yeah okay, poor choice of words. But hey, you can’t touch your face. Not yet.” Diego sounded…strange. Klaus blinked hard, trying to clear his vision. His brother faded into view, he smiled crookedly at Klaus. Klaus tried to speak, tried to ask him what was wrong, but he couldn’t move his mouth. His eyes widened and he smacked at Diego’s arm frantically before pointing at himself.

“It’s okay. Your jaw’s wired shut. It’ll be okay in a few weeks. You broke your jaw in like three places.” Diego swallowed hard, he was having a hard time making eye contact with Klaus. Klaus made a noise in his throat and slapped the bed hard.

“Eight.”

He slapped the bed again.

“Eight weeks.”

Klaus’ breathing thinned, his head was feeling light again, the drugs had nothing to do with it. It felt like Luther was sitting on his chest. Diego touched his arm, Klaus pulled his hand away. Diego looked hurt. Klaus could feel the tears coming, he waved his hand at his brother.

“Klaus I-“

He waved his hands harder and turned away from him, settling himself deeper into his bed, pulling the blankets up over his head as the tears fell. He heard Diego hesitate at the door, and then heard him leave, shutting the door gently behind him. Klaus’ eyes burned, he turned his head into his pillow, a half scream filling his throat as white-hot pain shot through his head. He rolled onto his back, sniffling as he stared at the ceiling. His head full of pain but no voices.

~***~

Week One

It takes him two days to learn to hate the sound of the food processor. Two days. It takes him one day to hate the food that comes from it.

Grace brings him his first “meal” while he’s still in bed. He wanted waffles, she brought him yogurt. Blended yogurt. Why you’d need to blend yogurt further than the mush it already was, Klaus had no idea, but it was gross. His jaw hurt when he sucked on the straw. And for a moment he thought he might throw up, he panicked at the thought, how could he throw up if his mouth was wired shut? He was going to die. He was going to choke on his own vomit and there was nothing he could do about it.

Grace’s hand rubbing slow circles onto his back calmed him. She did this the whole time he “ate”, keeping him calm. Klaus tried to thank her when she got up and once again winced in pain and frustration.

“It’s alright sweetheart. I know. You’re welcome.” She smiled down at him, Klaus feeling warmth spread through him like always. He slapped the bed twice, Grace turned to look at him. He held his hands up, making a heart with is fingers. Her smile widened, her head tilting.

“I love you too Klaus.” She walked out the door, still smiling. Klaus watched her go and then decided he would get dressed. There was no point in sitting in his room all day moping. He pushed himself up off the bed, threw on a shirt and some floral pajama pants, slipped on the pair of heals Grace had said he could keep, and headed down stairs.

“Are you serious right now?” Luther’s voice carried down the hall, he was always so loud. Klaus ignored him and walked into the kitchen. The others all already there, Vanya and Five waved at him, Ben smiled.

“Klaus! Hello? I’m talking to you.” Luther called, sauntering into the kitchen after him. Klaus turned around and widened his eyes, acting surprised to see him. He shrugged and made a comical act of miming that he didn’t hear him.

“You broke your jaw, not your ears Klaus, I know you can hear me. That’s not how that works.” Luther sat down in his chair and glared at his brother. Klaus shrugged and sat down.

“Here Klaus. This is for you.” Five walked behind his chair and set a small notepad on the table. Klaus smiled at him.

“It’s from me, Ben, and Vanya. We brainstormed ways to help you feel better.” He walked away, like what he said was nothing. Klaus looked at Vanya, she smiled her shy smile, he moved his eyes to Ben, the boy stuck his tongue out him. Klaus tried to return the gesture, growled in his throat, flipped open the notepad, drew a face with the tongue sticking out, and held it up for Ben to see. He laughed, almost choking on his oatmeal.

“Klaus seriously. You’re wearing heals again? After you literally just fell down the stairs because of them?” Luther clearly wasn’t giving up. Klaus sighed and flipped the page in his notebook.

i like them

“Oh you like them? Even though they broke your jaw?”

the stairs broke my jaw

“The stairs? How did the stairs break your jaw?!” Luther sounded frustrated.

how did the shoes???

Klaus made a face at him, his hands held up beside him.

“They tripped you!” Luther was almost yelling now.

no. i tripped. the shoes didn’t trip me. i like them. i’m wearing them. get over it.

Luther huffed and crossed his arms. Allison sighed next to him, he looked at her.

“There’s no reasoning with him.” Luther shook his head.

“And yet you insist on trying.” Allison said, scooping oatmeal onto her spoon slowly. Luther huffed again and looked back to Klaus, he smiled smugly and leaned back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head as he waited for the other to finish their breakfasts.

~***~

Week Two

He was bored. Bored bored bored BOOOORED. He was laying on the kitchen table, fingers tapping away on his notepad that was lying on his stomach. His eyes were closed, the others were away on a mission. The house was uncomfortably quiet. He used to fill that silence. That was his job. And now he couldn’t even do that.

His eyes snapped open when he heard it. The noise. The music.

He smiled to himself and threw his body off the table, running down the hall recklessly, and ending up outside the doors of the parlor. Vanya was behind the closed door, playing her violin. Klaus pressed his ear to the door, his breath catching in his chest as the haunting sounds carried through the wood.

“Master Klaus.” Klaus jumped and spun around to see Pogo looking at him.

“Miss Vanya is practicing.” Klaus nodded. He grabbed the marker out of his pocket and scribbled in the note book.

I just wanna listen

Pogo looked at him for a moment, and then nodded.

“If she says it’s okay.” Klaus smiled and knocked on the door. The music screeched, and then stopped. Klaus heard footsteps and then Vanya’s head popped out the door.

“Klaus? Are you alright?” She looked up at him, looking concerned. He nodded with a smile and held up his notepad.

Can I listen?

She read it, her eyes dropping to the words and then rising slowly to look at Klaus’ face again.

“You wanna listen to me play?”

Klaus nodded.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded again, enthusiastically. Her brow furrowed for a brief second and then she stepped back, giving him space to come into the room. He did a little dance, waved at Pogo, and shut the door.

He sprawled out on the couch, his legs propped up, hands behind his head. He looked at Vanya and found her watching him, that shy smile on her lips again. He gabbed his marker.

What?

She smiled outright then and shook her head.

“Nothing. Are you uh, comfortable and ready, your highness?” she asked, smirking at him, Klaus stared at that honest to god smirk on his shy sisters face and nodded again, smiling brightly back at her. She nodded back, and began playing.

Klaus closed his eyes, a calm feeling washing over him as she played. All the thoughts he had running through his head about everything from their father, to how and if he wanted to tell his sibling he wasn’t exactly a boy, maybe not a girl, he wasn’t sure what he was but he really wanted to explore and figure it. He was pretty sure they’d understand, most of them anyway. He was still trying to figure out if he’d care. He could be himself whether or not they understood, but he’d like them to.

Vanya filled the room, and Klaus’ head, with music, from happy to sad, to everything in between. His emotions where all over the place, his hands shaking a little as she finished. He’d sat up at some point, his elbows resting on his knees. There were tears in his eyes, and falling down his cheeks. The music stopped, Vanya paused, her eyes staying closed for a moment. She finally looked at Klaus, her features colored with worry. Klaus stared at her for a long time and then stood up and started clapping. He made some small noises through his nose and kept clapping, his hands hurting a little bit. He grabbed his marker and notepad, scribbling as fast as he could.

VANYA! THAT WAS AMAZING! YOU’RE AMAZING!

She read his note once, twice, three times. She blinked a few times and then looked at him. He wiped his hand over his face, clearing the tears away. When his eyes could see his sister again, they found her smiling. The brightest smile he’d ever seen on her face. He smiled back and wrote on his notepad again.

More? Please!

Vanya nodded and lifted her violin, clearing her throat and closing her eyes. Klaus laid back on the couch and let the music his sister played flow through him, his mind calm for the first time in a long time.

~***~

Week Three and Four

He can’t breathe. His chest is tight. There is no air. In his lungs or in his room. No air anywhere. At least nowhere he’s looked. His lips are chapped, slightly parted, trying to suck in air when there is none. He falls out of bed, stumbles to his feet and then down the hall. He needs to find someone. Tell them to cut the wires. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

Ben’s hand on his shoulder brings him back to himself. He’s sitting against the wall in the hallway, knees pulled up to his chest, hands wrapped around his head, making himself as small as possible.

“Klaus? Klaus what’s wrong? How do I help?” Ben sounds as frantic as Klaus feels, his chest heaving. He reaches for his notepad and doesn’t find it. He gasps, his chest screaming. He claws his way back down the hall, practically throws the pad at Ben, in shaky writing his problem lies.

No air. Can’t breathe. Help please.

It had taken all the strength in him to write that. And the letters were still a mess. Ben’s eyes widened and he was crouched next to Klaus immediately, his hands on his brother’s shoulders.

“Klaus look at me. Its okay. There’s air. You just need to slow your breathing down okay?”

Klaus shook his head frantically. Ben didn’t understand, there was no air.

“Hey. I know. I understand. It feels like you can’t breathe because there’s no air, but look at me. I’m breathing. So there must be air, right?” Ben looked at him, all concern and honest eyes. Klaus blinked at him.

“Yeah see, it makes sense. I can see the gears in your head working. Just- just breathe with me. You think you can do that? Big deep breaths?” He grabbed Klaus’ wrist, placed his hand on his chest, and started breathing deeply.

Klaus stared at his chest, watched it rise and fall, and did his best to do the same. His breaths were shaky at first, stuttering in a way that reminded him, pleasantly, of Diego. He thought that Diego would be able to do this. And Ben was doing it. So he could do this. He shut his eyes tight and felt Ben’s chest rise and fall and matched his own breathing to it. His eyes staying shut until Ben’s hand squeezed his knee. Klaus opened his eyes.

“You did it. You’re okay.” Ben nodded, like it was a matter of fact. Klaus nodded back, thinking maybe he was right.

~***~

The voices were back. They always came first. First it was the voices, and then ghosts. But the voices always came first. They were screaming in his head, yelling at him for help, screaming his name over and over and over, like he should help, like he should know how. He didn’t know anything. Well, he knew one thing. He couldn’t breathe.

He tried to stay calm. Ben had shown him how. How to keep that pressure inside your chest from bursting out of you, how to keep it in check. Klaus closed his eyes and pushed the voices away. He breathed deeply, his hand on his own chest feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. The voices ebbed away. His breathing evened out. The pressure in his chest, on his lungs, floated away. His muscles relaxed, his body melting into his bed. The voices were gone. The dead were gone.

He opened his eyes and screamed. An old woman with blood in here eyes was hovering over his bed, the scream was quiet, not able to escaped past his teeth. He shoved his blankets off and was down the hall in seconds, his notepad left behind without a thought. He ran to Ben’s door, knocking as gently as he could with panic settling into his chest like a cat in a sunspot. The door swung open seconds later, Ben looked sleepy for maybe a second and then his eyes were wide, he beckoned Klaus inside and closed the door behind them.

“It’s happening again.” It wasn’t exactly a question but Klaus nodded anyway, his hand on his chest, still trying unconsciously to keep his breathing under control the way Ben had shown him. Ben placed his hand over Klaus’, and moved Klaus’ other hand to his own chest, connecting them completely.

“I’m here. Take your time.” His voice was soft, and comforting. Everything about him was that way. He was the most understanding person Klaus knew. Klaus himself didn’t understand how he’d managed to pull a personality like that out of the hat when they were all growing up under the same father. They’d all gotten, selfish traits, and cared a lot about themselves as much as they cared about helping people. Klaus didn’t understand that either. He just wanted to help most of the time. He just hadn’t quite figured out the best way to go about it. He had learned that making people laugh, even at his own expense, felt pretty okay. As long as they were smiling, that was all that mattered.

His breathing slowed as his mind raced, Ben smiled at him when he finally opened his eyes. The smile faded when Klaus startled backwards, his eyes glued to the door. Ben looked and saw nothing.

“Is it a ghost?” anyone else saying that to anyone else may have sounded mocking, but Ben sounded curious, and a little angry. Klaus nodded, Ben turned back to the door.

“Get out. You aren’t welcome here. Leave him alone!” Ben was nearly yelling by the end, his finger pointing at the door like he was telling off a bad child. To Klaus’ surprise it worked, the woman looked at them both for a moment and then faded away. Ben turned back to him, his angry features softening when they landed on Klaus.

“Is she gone?” Klaus nodded and sighed, any energy he’d had left in him, draining out of him. Ben rushed forward and caught him. Klaus’ knees almost buckled. Ben guided him to the bed and made him lay down. Ben crawled in beside him and covered them both. Klaus looked at Ben in the dark, he was sat up next to him, resting his back against his headboard.

“I’ll keep them away from you. Just get some sleep. You look exhausted.” He patted his brother’s shoulder and smiled down at him. Klaus snuggled down under the blanket, pressed his face into the pillow and closed his eyes. They snapped open seconds later, he reached out and grabbed Ben’s hand.

“What? Are you okay?” Ben sounded worried, Klaus smiled. He nodded, and squeezed Ben’s hand, hard. Hoping that he would understand. Ben looked at their hands, and then smiled at Klaus.

“You’re welcome.” He whispered, covering Klaus’ shoulder with the blanket again. Klaus’ fingers slipped away from Ben’s hand as he drifted to sleep, voices, ghosts, and panic, all held at bay by his watchful brother.

~***~

Week Five

“Are you still in here moping?”

Klaus doesn’t move, his head feels a little funny, he’s been laying with his head dropped over the edge of his bed for almost an hour. He was starting to wonder if he could pass out from all the blood rushing to his head like this.

“Hey. I’m talking to you.” Five’s head poked itself into Klaus’ line of vision. Klaus couldn’t see his hands but he could tell Five had them in his pockets, he always had his hands in his pockets when he showed up to be an ass. Klaus blinked up him and shrugged.

“You gonna stay like this all day?”

Shrug.

“All week?”

Shrug.

“All your life? Just sitting in here, moping.” Klaus saw his shoulders move and knew he’d crossed his arms. He popped the lid off his marker, scribbled on his pad, and held it up.

Maybe.

“I figured.” He bent lower, his face uncomfortably close to Klaus’. He looked at him for a long time. His eyes squinting a little.

“Come with me.” He poked Klaus’ forehead and then walked out of Klaus’ vision. Klaus sighed and moved a bit. He brought his head back onto his bed, it swam a little.

“Klaus. Let’s go.” He scrambled off his bed, his head swimming again as he stood and his blood rushed back into his body. He grabbed his notepad, scribbled on it, and followed after his brother. He tapped Five on the shoulder when he caught up with him.

Where are we going????

Five glanced at it and gave him a smile. Klaus rolled his eyes when he realized that’s all the explanation he was going to get. He huffed, but let Five lead him out of the house and down the street. He walked them to a diner, one they’ve walked by almost everyday of their lives, but never gone in. Five waved him in and then followed him. Klaus trailed behind him to a booth and threw himself into the seat across from him. Klaus sat sideways, his feet propped up on the booth next to him. He scribbled on his pad.

So? Now what?

Five ignored him.

He smiled at the waitress who walked up, she smiled down at them.

“What can I get for you fellas?” her voice was cheery, Klaus could tell it was mostly fake cheer, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to fake it that well if he had fake it all day every day.

“Two milkshakes please. He’ll take chocolate strawberry, and I’ll have a strawberry banana.” Five smiled again, Klaus was beginning to find it a little unnerving.

“Two milkshakes, comin right up. They’ll be out in a few, guys.” She smiled brightly and left to put the order in. Five looked at him. Klaus scribbled.

Milkshakes. That’s supposed to make me feel better?

Five stared at him. The waitress came back, all smiles, and sat their shakes in front of them. Five’s had two slices of banana in the whip crème, Klaus’ had strawberries, both were the eyes of two sad looking smiley faces. Klaus smiled up at her, Five thanked her, she nodded and walked off again. Five reached across the table and plucked the slices of strawberries off Klaus’ milkshake.

“Isn’t it?” Five looked at him. Klaus looked at Five, then looked at his milkshake, then back to Five. He scribbled.

Maybe.

Five smiled smugly when he held up his notepad. Klaus scowled at him and then took a long swig of his milkshake. The cold in his mouth making his head tingle again. He shook himself like a dog and sighed. Five gave him a knowing look.

Klaus scribbled and held up his pad.

Okay fine yes. It’s amazing.

Five laughed and then took a giant slurp of his own milkshake. They sat there, in silence, and drank. Five ordered two more and they drank those too, both of them looking out the window. Five pointing out weird things, and people, here and there, but never asking questions. Klaus was thankful for that. He knew his siblings were trying to help, keep him feeling included, but they’d been asking him questions constantly. And it was driving him crazy. He couldn’t write fast enough, and his paper wasn’t big enough, and his writing wasn’t funny enough, and he was going stir crazy in his own head. And somehow Five understood that. He’d only been saying things to Klaus that he could nod, or smile, or shrug, to answer. Klaus scribbled in his too small notepad and then tapped the table to get his brother’s attention.

Thank you.

Five looked at the paper for longer than it could have possibly taken to read it. His eyes moved to Klaus a few moments later, he smiled again, softly this time, genuine. Klaus smiled back and finished his milkshake. They sat in comfortable silence awhile longer, Five paid for their milkshakes, and they headed home.

They walked in silence the whole way there. Klaus not feeling like he should be filling the quiet, not like usual. They got the gate of their house, both of them pausing before opening it, like they always did, all of them. They sighed and shoved the gate open, walking back inside. Klaus felt his mind begin to itch again, but his shoulders were lighter, and his stomach was pleasantly full for the first time in weeks.

~***~

Week Six

He’s sitting on his bed, flipping through an educational beginner knitting guild when Allison bursts into his room, he startles, she doesn’t notice.

“How’s it hangin sunshine?” her voice is cheerful, Klaus squints at her, she looks at him expectantly. He sighs and grabs his notebook, the knitting guild tossed aside and forgotten.

Like a body at the gallows being eaten by vultures

“Dark.” She says, smiling and sitting next to him on the bed.

“You seem glum chum.” Her fake British accent making him smile. He shakes his head and laughs through his nose. She pats his knee.

“I have just the thing to cheer you up.” She’s still smiling. Klaus wonders if that hurts her face, smiling all the time like that. He cocks his head to the side and waits for her to keep talking. He never has to wait long.

“So I need a new outfit, and I thought you might want to come to the mall with me and try on clothes.” Her smile doesn’t fade, Klaus can feel his own eyes light up.

“And if you’re nice, and don’t push any children out of your way when they walk too slow, I’ll buy you an outfit too. Anything you want.” Klaus jumps off his bed and grabs her hand, pulling her up onto her feet.

“Yeah I thought that might get you moving. Let me get my bag and we can go.” She ran to her room, ran back out with her purse, and they both ran out the front door together.

Lucky for Klaus, the mall was almost empty, and it was the middle of the day on a weekday, so all the slow, grimy kids, were still in school. Meaning he didn’t have to push them out of the way, and that he would almost certainly be getting an outfit out of this trip.

Allison dragged him into a dress shop, both of them trying on dresses for almost an hour. The store clerk giving them dirty looks every time Klaus cat walked out of the dressing room. Allison brought him increasingly gaudy dresses to try on until they were both in a fit of giggles on the floor, Klaus struggling to breath a bit but not caring.

The next store was depressingly quiet. No music at all and the employees seemed dead on their feet.

“I wish we had some music.” Allison sighed as she held a top up to Klaus, her head tilting as she decided whether or not she thought it was a good look for him. She put it back and Klaus held up his notepad.

Movie montage?

She smiled that bright smile, her eyes shining.

“I know the perfect store for that. Come on.” She tossed the pants she’d been looking at back on the table, grabbed her brother’s hand, and pulled him out the door.

They walked hand in hand to a brightly lit shop, racks and racks of clothing zig zagged the floor inside, and music could be heard blaring from outside.

“Yeah?”

Klaus nodded and she pulled him inside, laughing a bit manically.

The music was perfect. Loud enough that they didn’t need to talk, so Klaus didn’t have to stop every second and write down an answer, but not too loud for him to hear the jokes Allison was telling. She found an outfit right away. The third or fourth one she tried. But she kept bringing Klaus more and more clothes, and trying more herself. They probably tried on at least a hundred things between them. Both of them dancing to the music as they showed off the clothes. The people working there were warm and welcoming, a few of the girls even suggesting things that would look flattering on Klaus’ tall and slim figure.

They brought them both several more outfits. All of them dancing along with the siblings, their fun must have been contagious. Klaus walked out in a flowery tank top and flowy skirt covered in cats wearing glasses, Allison gasped.

“That’s the one! Definitely!” She was laughing, but she was also being sincere. Klaus twirled around a few times, his hips swaying with the music, the shop girls all clapped and cheered. Klaus thought for a second he might be dreaming. But Allison pulling him into a hug brought him back to himself. She rubbed his back and then pulled away.

“Seriously though, is that the one you want?” She was smiling softer now, her cheeks not pushed so far up into her eyes. Klaus nodded.

“I think it’s a good choice. It’s very you.” She said, giggling and then shoving him gently back into the dressing room so he could get dressed.

Allison bought their things. Klaus tried to pay for part of it and she swatted him away. He shoved his wallet back into his pocket shyly.  They were walking back out the way they’d come, walking past shops, Allison gossiping to him about the last few missions the others had gone on, Klaus was listening and window shopping as the passed all the shops. And that’s when he saw it. The coat. He literally stopped in his tracks. Allison’s voice calling his name brought him back to himself after a moment. He tapped the window and looked at her.

“You wanna go look at it?”

Klaus nodded enthusiastically and they went inside the shop.

Klaus needed the coat. It was black, had fur around the collar and looked like it was all black patchwork. His chest ached with how much he wanted it. He tried it on. It was too big. But he’d grow into it. He was holding it gently in his hands and then he looked at the price tag. His eyes bulged and he slid it back on the hanger sadly.

“How much is it?” Allison looked sad for him. She turned the tag to look at it, her eyes widened. Klaus held his notepad up after scribbling for a moment.

Way more than I have. Way more than you have. Way more than it should be. But look at it.

“It’s beautiful. And it, it looks like you. Like it should be yours.” She looked at the coat for a long time and then looked up at Klaus. He didn’t like the look in her eye. There was glint there, the glint that was always there before she did something she knew she shouldn’t.

“How much money do you have with you?”

Klaus stuck his hand in his pocket and counted, he held up his hands, fingers spread out wide, he opened and closed his hands once.

“Twenty bucks?”

He nodded.

“Okay. Come with me.” She grabbed the coat off the rack and walked up to counter, she set it down gently, the cashier smiled at her. The smiled faltered when he looked at the coat. Allison looked around, checking to see if anyone was close enough to hear them, there was no one else in the shop. Klaus thought it was probably because no one could afford anything in here. He wiped his hands on his jeans nervously.

The man behind the counter opened his mouth to say something, Allison cut him off.

“I heard a rumor,” she winked at Klaus, he held his breath.

“You wha-“

“I heard a rumor, that this coat is on sale for thirty dollars.”

Klaus watched the man’s world rewrite itself and then watched him smile brightly at them and nod. Allison grabbed Klaus’ money out his hand and threw ten of her own on the pile.

“You two picked a great day to come in. This is a steal.” He slid the coat into a bag and handed it over the counter to them.

“Oh I know. We got so lucky!” Allison sang as she laced her fingers with Klaus’ and pulled him out the door.

They practically ran out of the mall, laughing and screaming in that manic sort of way. Klaus was almost always living in that manic state, but he liked seeing Allison there too, she very rarely let loose and had fun these days. It was hard in their house, to have fun, to be who you truly are, Klaus understood. And he was grateful that he could always be one hundred percent himself when he was with Allison. Even if she did get grumpy at him sometimes for borrowing her clothes without asking.

They ran all the way to their street and then slowed down, walking leisurely, their bags swinging at their sides, arms linked together.

“Don’t tell dad I did that.” Her voice was quiet. Klaus looked at her, his brow furrowed, he shook his head. Her smile came back a little. He grabbed his notepad and scribbled.

I would never. Ever. Tell him.

She smiled, a little sadly. He scribbled some more.

My lips are sealed. Literally. They’re sealed. Get it?

He pointed to his mouth, then made little jazz hands and smiled dumbly. She laughed, loudly. The way he liked her laughing. Her laugh was contagious, her smile was too, but there was something about her laugh, the way it bubbled out of her, like she wasn’t expecting it but was delighted about it. Klaus laughed as much as he could with wires wrapped around his jaw. She looked at him for a long time, her hand coming to the side of his face, asking without asking if it still hurt. Klaus shrugged, held up his fingers and moved them close together. It hurt a little. But not as bad as before.

She moved her thumb over his jaw carefully, gently, and then pulled him into a hug. She pulled back without a word and linked their arms together again as they continued walking. Her fingers drumming out a little beat on his arm. He looked down at her and smiled, she looked happy. Her soft smile looked genuine. Not like the big fake one she’d been wearing when she’d come into his room.

They walked to the gates and stopped in front of them, pausing before going in. Klaus stood there next to his sister, looking up at their home that never really felt like home, and thought that maybe she’d needed a day out with him as much he’d needed a day out with her. And even if that wasn’t true. He was glad that she was there for him. And he found himself wishing, not for the first time in the last few weeks, that he could pull the wires out of his mouth so he could tell his sister just how much this day had meant to him.

~***~

Week Seven

He was in pain. His jaw ached. He tried massaging the pain out, but every time he touched his face pain shot through it like lightening. He was laying on the couch downstairs, in the room next to where Vanya was playing. The music was helping him ignore the pain a bit, but not enough. He crossed his arms over his chest and held himself tight, eyes squeezed shut, trying to shut out the pain. His eyes sprang open as he was pulled off the couch suddenly.

Luther was standing there grinning at him. Klaus did not grin back. He grabbed his notepad roughly, tearing a page, and scribbled. He held it up to for Luther to see, glaring at him.

Leave me alone.

“Aww come on Klaus, it’s almost time for the wires to come out. You can train a little with us.” Luther teased, he took a step toward Klaus, he backed up quickly, nearly falling over the couch. He scribbled more, glancing nervously at Luther while he wrote.

I am in pain. Please. Leave me alone.

Klaus shook the pad a little when he held it up, for emphasis. He could see in Luther’s eyes that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. His shoulders drooped as he looked at his brother, always ready to fight, to train.

“Klaus it’s been seven weeks, you should be practically healed. We all get hurt on missions sometimes. You know what dad says. Work through the pain.” Luther smiled at him, actually smiled, while reciting their father’s words back at Klaus. Luther took a step forward and Klaus turned and ran. His notebook slid across the floor, the page he’d torn fluttering slowly to the ground after it. Luther chased him. Klaus had known he would. He always did. But Klaus had never had the nerve to stare him down. He always ran. And Luther always chased him.

It took Luther maybe a minute to catch his brother. He had Klaus pinned to the couch so fast that Klaus felt dizzy. His jaw was throbbing. Tears in his eyes as Luther pressed him into the couch.

“Hey!”

Klaus’ whole body jumped at the yell. Luther looked over his shoulder. Klaus craned his neck to see who it was, but couldn’t see, he was pressed into the couch at a weird angle and could barely move.

“Can you read?” Klaus sighed when Diego’s voice finally registered in his aching head. Klaus saw Luther’s confused expression.

“What?”

“Can. You. Read?” Diego stomped closer, taking a step for every word he growled, shoving Klaus’ notebook in Luther’s face.

“Yeah…” Luther shrugged. Diego’s hand fell hard on Luther’s shoulder.

“Get off him.”

“I-“

“NOW!” Klaus flinched again, only because the shout hurt his head. Luther’s grip loosened, and Klaus took the opening. He surged upwards, shoving his brother off of him with all the energy he could muster. Luther stumbled backwards but didn’t fall. Klaus grabbed his notebook out of Diego’s hand and scribbled so hard the marker squeaked against the paper.

Leave me. THE FUCK. ALONE!!!

He ripped the page out and shoved it into Luther’s chest as he stormed past him out of the room. He felt someone following him, he glanced back, saw it was Diego, and kept walking. Diego walked him to his room, his hand falling on Klaus’ shoulder gently when they got there. Klaus turned to look at him, his cheeks feeling hot, embarrassed about the tears on his face. Everyone else was always braver than him. Diego was frowning. Or maybe he wasn’t, Klaus had trouble telling with him sometimes.

“You okay?” his voice was soft, Klaus smiled, Diego usually only talked that was when he was talking to mom. Klaus nodded, and grabbed his marker.

Thanks

Diego nodded, smiled awkwardly, and walked away. Klaus watched him duck into his own room and then closed his door. He flopped onto his bed and tried not to move, tried to keep as still as possible to get the throbbing in his head to stop.

~***~

The soft knock on his door woke him from his light sleep. He groaned and pushed himself out of bed. He opened the door slowly, his eyes narrowing when he saw Luther standing there.

“Hey. I’m sorry about earlier. I just, I get carried away. Are you- Does it still hurt?” Klaus had never seen Luther looking so shy before, not when talking to him at least. Klaus gave one nod. Luther grimaced.

“I’m sorry. But um, I thought maybe I could help?”

Klaus stared at him, Luther didn’t say anything. Klaus waited a few more seconds, sighed, and turned to get his notepad.

Help how?

“Oh! Um, well, I thought maybe you could come to my room and we could listen to a few records. Vanya said music might help. So I looked through my records and sorted out some of the softer ones. You don’t have to, I just thought-“

Klaus put his hand on Luther’s arm to stop him. Luther looked at him, he looked worried. Klaus smiled at him and nodded.

“Yeah? Really?” Luther’s face had brightened already. Klaus laughed out his nose and grabbed his marker.

Yes really. But if you make me nod anymore I’m gonna smack you.

Luther smiled at him, Klaus smiled back, and followed his brother down the hall.

Luther motioned for him to sit on the bed. Klaus sat down gently, looking up at all the model airplanes Luther had built and hung in his room. Klaus didn’t come in here much. He’d only been in here maybe a few times, he’d pop his head in from time to time to wake his brother for breakfast, or bring him down for dinner, but other than that, he didn’t spend much time here.

It was cozy, in a…boring, kind of way. He moved his attention to Luther, who was carefully moving the needle onto his record, and thought that his room suited him just fine. Boring in some areas, and maybe boring wasn’t the right word. Plain was probably better. Plain in some areas with bright spots of color under the surface. The bright spots in the room were his wall of records. His music taste was all over the map. But he always seemed to know the right song to play after a mission. The perfect song to make all of his sibling feel better. It was one of his unspoken talents, his music, and the way he used it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Klaus startled and shook his head gently, waving his hand dismissively at his brother. Luther made a face but took the dismissal and sat on the floor by Klaus feet. Klaus settled down on the bed, laying on his side, listening to the soft music filling the room. He watched his brother nod his head to the beat, and felt the pain in his jaw ebbing slowly away.

~***~

Week Eight

Someone…was doing his chores. For the past week he’d wake up, eat breakfast, nap before lunch, eat lunch, go to do his chores, and find them already done. A week, this had been happening, and he still hadn’t figured out who was doing it. At first, he’d thought maybe it was mom, but he’d followed her around all day, watching her do her chores, and nada, it definitely wasn’t her.

He’d tried following around a few of the others but he’d gotten bored, he’d actually fallen asleep a few times. But he was determined. He would sneak around this house all day if he had too. They’d just finished lunch, and usually he’d go upstairs, hang in his room for a bit until mom got the dishes cleaned, he didn’t like to be in the way. Today he stayed in the kitchen, helped her dry, and put them away. She smiled down at him, even kissed his forehead before going to do the laundry.

Klaus smiled proudly at himself and then heard the rustling upstairs, someone was in the bathroom, he was supposed to be in the bathroom. He was supposed to be cleaning it. He ran up the stairs carefully and burst through the door, no one was there. He looked around the bathroom, it was shining. He stared at the shower curtain for a moment, pretended he was leaving, and then turned back and lunged at the curtain, pulling it aside.

Nothing.

He threw his hands up. What the fuck was going on? He narrowed his eyes and listened closely to the sounds of the house around him. He’d gotten very good at listening to the others. Not in a creepy way, just, he had a habit of talking to himself when he was alone. That habit had been temporarily nipped in the bud, so he’d started focusing on the other sounds in the house.

He could hear Luther in his room, music playing quietly, Allison was dancing next door, her feet moving quickly and nimbly over the floor. Vanya was downstairs, playing a small melody over and over, learning a new song, or writing one. Five was out back jumping around the courtyard. Ben was reading on his bed, Klaus couldn’t hear that, he’d just seen him when he’d run down the hall. That just left... Diego.

Klaus closed his eyes and listened. He pictured himself walking through the house. Thinking about all the chores he’d normally be doing. The bathroom was already clean. He and mom had done the dishes. He heard a thud in one of the training rooms and his eyes shot open, he was supposed to organize the weapons they used for training. He ran back down stairs, slid across the kitchen, and burst into the training room. It was empty.

He stood there panting. Looking around the room for a place Diego might be hiding. He walked briskly to the tall weapons cabinet in the corner and pulled the door open. It was empty. Well, it wasn’t empty, it was full of weapons, just not Diego. He eyed the weapons; all the knives had been organized from smallest to biggest. Klaus rolled his eyes, Diego wasn’t even being subtle, how had he not figured this out sooner. Klaus sighed and set to listening again.

Vanya had moved to the study and was pulling books off the shelves, about to set to work on some of her painfully organized note taking no doubt. Klaus cringed at the thought, he’d watched her take notes one day, tried to do it himself. His paper had ended up covered in doodles. Doodles which he’d presented to Vanya as a gift, she’d laughed at him, but he knew for a fact she had those doodles pinned to her wall in her room. He smiled at the thought and then shook his head, he needed to focus.

His eyes snapped open as he remembered, the attic, he was supposed to “clean” it. Cleaning the attic just meant moving things around so it looked like there was more room. He sighed and headed back upstairs, not running this time. His jaw was beginning to ache again. He couldn’t wait to be able to open his mouth. Not even to talk. Just to move it. He pushed the attic door open to find Diego sat on the floor, looking though an old trunk. Klaus cleared his throat and Diego startled, turning to look at him, guilt all over his face. Klaus smiled at him and fished the marker out of his pocket.

You’ve been doing my chores

Diego shrugged and went back to the trunk.

“Maybe I have. So what?” he tossed the things in his hands back into the trunk and closed it, coughing a little at the cloud of dust that plumed there. Klaus knelt down next to him and scribbled some more.

Why? I can do my own chores… when I remember them

Diego snorted. He patted the trunk and motioned to Klaus, he helped his brother shove it into the corner.

“I know you can. I just didn’t want you to be…stressed. Your jaw was hurting last week.” He wiped his hands on his pants, dust prints staining the dark material. Klaus scribbled.

I only have one week left!!! You’re helping me NOW???

His eyes were wide as he looked at his brother, he was smiling, he was pretty sure he was anyway. His mouth had been going numb a lot lately. Diego looked a little sheepish. He grabbed a few things off the floor and walked them to the other side of the room.

“I just didn’t want you to be stressed. I was just trying to help. I w-won’t anymore if you don’t w-want me to.” He dropped the things he’d been holding, coughing again at the dust. Klaus sighed and watching his brother stare at the floor. He walked over and put his hand on Diego’s shoulder, the way Diego always did to him.

He tried to thank him without saying it. He was so tired of writing everything in his stupid notepad. He wanted to be able to talk to people again. He opened his lips so the sound could get out and did his best to say thank you. It didn’t really sound like words. It was hard to make things sound right when your jaw wouldn’t move at all. But he did his best. Diego smiled up at him and nodded. Klaus smiled at him and began helping him move things around the room.

They stayed up there until it was time for dinner, shoving things around the room, moving things from corner to corner. Klaus asked Diego to tell him about the last few missions they’d gone on. Diego did so, embellishing the stories in all the right places, making Klaus laugh when he pictured the scenes. They got the room looking pretty good, the floor was mostly clean, some of the dust seemed like a permanent fixture, refusing to leave no matter how many times they swept it up. They stood in the doorway looking at their job well done, and then raced each other down the stairs when Grace rang the dinner bell.

~***~

“I’ll take you.”

Klaus almost jumped out of his skin. He’d been waiting outside their father’s office for almost an hour. They were supposed to be going to the hospital to get Klaus’ wires taken out. He hadn’t heard anything from his father the entire time he’d been standing out there. He turned to see Diego standing there, looking a bit angry. Klaus furrowed his brow.

“I was there when they put them in, kind of. They had to have seen me when we brought you in. It should be fine. We’ll just tell them that our parents were working and couldn’t take off to bring you in. It’ll be fine. We can bring Allison if we need to.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. Klaus shook his head but walked to the door.

“Just us then?” Diego asked, following close behind him. Klaus nodded, Diego nodded back, pulled the door open, and followed Klaus out into the sunshine.

The doctor and nurses looked at them strangely at first, and then accepted their story and let Diego come in with Klaus. They were waiting for the doctor to come back with his tools. Klaus’ foot was bouncing where he was sat on the edge of a bed. Diego walked over and sat next to him, bumping his knee against Klaus’, the bouncing slowed a little.

“Are you nervous?” he glanced at Klaus.

Klaus swallowed hard and grabbed his marker.

I’m scared

“What are you scared of? They’re takin ‘em out.”

Klaus scribbled frantically.

But what if they don’t? what if something’s wrong and they have to rewire it and I have to stay like this forever?

He felt his chest getting heavy, like it had those few weeks ago, when Ben had helped him. Diego read his words quickly and frowned at him. It wasn’t a pity frown, it was the look he got when he wanted to help someone but didn’t quite know what to do. Footsteps outside the door made Klaus jump, Diego grabbed his hand and held it tight.

“Everything’s gonna be fine.” He whispered as the nurse opened the door, she held it open and the doctor followed her in, large silver tray in his hands. Diego gave his hand a squeeze and Klaus tried to stay calm.

Everything was fine of course. Klaus had panicked for nothing. The wires came out fine. A little painful, but Diego squeezed his hand really hard every time the doctor pulled so he wouldn’t focus on it. Klaus would never be able to tell him how grateful he was for that. The doctor was massaging his jaw, pressing his fingers here and there.

“Alright. I want you to open your mouth very slowly for me okay?” His voice had that lilt to it that doctors always used when they talked to children. Klaus nodded and did as he was told. His jaw popped twice as he opened it, Diego’s eyes widened, but Klaus sighed. The doctor smiled.

“Felt good huh? There was a lot of tension built up in there. It’ll probably pop like that for a few days. Maybe even a few weeks. Until it gets back to normal.” His hands were still on Klaus’ faces, feeling around his jaw as Klaus opened and closed his mouth slowly.

“You’re gonna want to start with soft foods. Work up to the food that requires a lot of chewing. But other than that, I think you’re all set kiddo.” He moved his hands away from Klaus and smiled. The nurse was smiling too. Klaus nodded, out of habit, he cleared his throat.

“Thank you.” His throat croaked the words, but he’d spoken. For the first time in eight weeks, he’d spoken. Diego gave his hand a gentle, final, squeeze and let go.

“You are very welcome. I’ll let Maria here walk you fella’s out. If anything feels weird or you have any questions just call the hospitals main number and ask for Dr. Roberts, hopefully I’ll be able to help you out.” He walked to the door, gave them a wave, a disappeared down the hall. Maria walked them to the front door, she wanted to make sure they didn’t get lost on the way out. As they walked through the maze of hallways, Klaus was glad for it, he’d never have been able to find his way out. Klaus and Diego waved over their shoulder at her and then started the walk home.

Klaus kept moving his jaw, opening it slowly and closing it again. It popped a few more times.

“That sounds so gross bro.” Diego said with a grimace. Klaus laughed. Actually laughed. Mouth open, head back, laughed. Diego rolled his eyes.

“God that felt good. It all feels good. It feels weird to talk though. After not doing it for so long. Does my voice sound the same? Does it sound deeper to you? Oh my god did I go through puberty while my mouth was wired shut? How fucking typical would that be.” He huffed and crossed his arms. Diego was staring at him.

“What? What are you staring at? Oh my god did my voice actually drop? Is that why you’re staring?” Diego snorted and shook his head. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground.

“It’s good to have you back.”

He glanced at Klaus, just for a second. They stopped in front of the gate, looking up at their house. Both of them pausing before going back in. Klaus looked at Diego and smiled the best mischievous smile he could muster.

“It’s good to be back.” He wiggled his eyebrows at his brother and they both raced into the house, Klaus announcing their return at the top of his lungs.

~***~

Present Day

“Eight glorious weeks of bliss.”

Diego didn’t sound particularly convincing. Klaus wondered if he remembered taking him to the hospital. Wondered if he remembered holding his hand cuz he was scared. Wondered if he remembered telling him he was glad he was back to his usual chatty self. But it didn’t really matter. Not anymore. Nothing did.

Klaus spots it through the window and perks up. He tells Diego to let him out. And he does. He calls after him though, trying to make sure he’s okay. Klaus doesn’t answer. He needs something stronger than the vodka in his bottle. Something smoother. He doesn’t hear Diego pull away, but he blames that on the alcohol fogging his brain. He shoves the door to the bar open and walks into the gloom. 

~

~

~

Tag list: @american-phycho​ @nightstargalaxy​ @saturnsocoolioyep​ @hey-its-park​ @pharahfly​ @allison-applesauce​ @plantaghost​ @diego2hargreeves​ @ur-a-lizard-hairy​ @depressedcoffeebean​ @sammyimpala-67​ @da5haexowin​ @menage-gay-trios​

[thirstyforbishiesimagines]

H-hewo... I'm just a DFel fan who found her way here... to... request... And yeh... um, can I maybe get a Zion x Reader. Like Reader is super obsessed with comics as well and brings up a very popular Marvel hero that she happens to be obsessed with and the two just so happen to find some comics in her bag and as much as he tries to come off as a badass, Reader knows and is like, "Nerd."And maybe she shows him an old scrapbook of old cosplays. (+ if some are bnha) Please and thank you!^^

Nerd - Zion x Reader

* image from LucyDreams, Dangerous Fellows

Word Count: 923

Fluff

.

.

“Tch! There’s nothing in here but boring ass books!”

Zion crosses his arms, annoyed that there were no comics in the library. You giggle at his disappointment and then wave your backpack in front of him.

He gives you the side eye, his irritated expression unchanged. “What?”

You keep your eyes on him and slowly unzip your bag.

Curious, Zion watches as you teasingly lift a plastic covered comic out of your bag. You sit down, hesitantly placing the comic on the dust-covered hardwood floor. With a heavy sigh, you remind yourself that it was safe as it was still protected from the plastic.

“I have a few more in my bag but I’m not letting this one out of its cover!”

Zion looks at you, bored and sits down across you. An elbow on one knee and a fist on his cheek.

“It’s not like it’s a limited edition comic. Why bothe-“

You quickly cut him off, completely insulted by his words.

“Captain Marvel happens to be my all-time favourite!”

He scoffs at you and rolls his eyes, “What’s so special about her then?”

You enthusiastically begin to educate him on how amazing Captain Marvel was. How she was a straight-laced yet compassionate and intelligent woman with abilities so amazing that you wish you had her super strength and stamina to use in this forsaken world.

Zion bursts out laughing, interrupting your spiel about your treasured hero.

You glare at him, pouting with annoyance.

“You’re too cute!” He says, wiping tears from his eyes and then gives you a smug grin.

“Spider-Man’s abilities would be way more useful than Captain Marvel! It would be sooo much easier to escape those demons with his web. Plus, he can trap them too!”

Zion was so sure of himself, you couldn’t resist a retaliation.

“But Spider-Man’s web dissolves in an hour! They can’t trap the zombies! Why trap them anyway? It would be easier if we can swiftly kill them with power and strength!”

“Don’t be so naive, (Y/N)…”

The both of you argue until you finally give in and let Zion boast about his superhero idol.

You watch him with slight disgust until you see the twinkle in his excited eyes. While Zion breathlessly rambles on about Spider-Man, you can’t help but smile softly at how attractive he is.

At that moment, he notices your change of expression and a pink tint of blush appears on his cheeks.

“You nerd!” Your (e/c) eyes smiling at his embarrassment and you cover your mouth to hide your giggle. Zion pouts and crosses his arms against his chest, “Tch! YOU’RE the NERD!”

You scrunch up your nose with a bit of sass and smile at him, shrugging nonchalantly at his comment. You own the title of “nerd” and it didn’t bother you one bit.

“Here. Check these out!”

You lay out more comics on the floor and soon enough the both of you bond over your shared love for Marvel.

There were moments where you caught him glancing at you with a gentle smile. A sweet one that was rarely seen on his face. It made your heart flutter and you bite your lip feeling a little shy.

Suddenly you hear a THUMP!

You jump at the sudden noise and realised that your bag had flopped down.

Feeling stupid, you look at your open backpack, the hidden content slipping out. Curious, Zion peeks inside the open backpack and sees a colourful scrapbook. He quickly snatched it up and skims through each page.

You didn’t mind. In fact, they were proud moments from your pre-apocalyptic life!

You shuffle your body next to him, not even bothered about personal space. Propping your elbow on his knee, you watch him flick through the pages with your hand on your cheek.

Zion’s golden eyes were fixated on all the photos of you dressed as different anime characters and superheroes. His face slowly turning from a shade of pink to red at how stunning you look in each photo. Some were sweet; some scantly clad and quite… sexy.

“Oh! These ones are my favourite!” You point to the page dedicated to Boku no Hero Acadamia. There were cute ones of you as Uraraka, Ashido and Toga. But the one that caught Zion’s eyes was you dressed as Bakugo Katsuki.

Your pose was confident, strong and you looked ready to take on anyone. Your costume also hugged your female form in all the right places. The baggy pants, big boots and the wrist grenades made you look adorably irresistible, and the red cross on your top highlighted your chest in such a way that Zion needed to adjust himself.

With wild thoughts running through his mind, Zion slams the book shut.

He stares at the book, his hand firmly placed on top keeping it closed.

“Has anyone seen this?” He says quietly.

You look at him, innocently confused.

“You’re the first person I’ve actually shown this to. Why?”

He glances at you; his crimson hair falling across his forehead, his expression serious.

“I don’t want anyone else seeing this.”

“But wh-“

Zion cuts you off with a quick peck on your lips. It was brief but it was enough to set your heart pounding. Stunned, your eyes gaze at him, somewhat hoping that that wasn’t all he was going to give you.

He stands up, still holding your notebook as he brushes the dust off his pants with his hand.

Zion smirks at you, a glint in his golden eyes.

“It’s mine now.”.

.

A/N: hope this is to your liking, sweet fawn!

x mod bambi

[mainly-kpop]

Golden heart

She looked around the party watching a few particular people, she always ended up standing in the corner looking down at her cup and sighing. She really needed to stop coming out to these things. 'It's a good way to meet people!' everyone would always say, for her it was just time to stand in the corner of the kitchen watching people make bad decisions. Parties weren't her thing and neither was alcohol. She hated random hook ups and the effects of alcohol. Despised seeing people make stupid decisions and throw up in the hosts swimming pool, she always ended up disgusted at the people hooking up and throwing shots back like it was water. Hated parties and everything they stood for. She refilled her cup from the sink and stood to the side, a boy came rushing through the kitchen shoving his head into the sink, she looked down at him disgusted as he threw up his stomach contents and running straight back to the dance floor, She ran the tap getting rid of it so she didn’t have to look or smell it. 

'Well that was impressive.' A voice spoke beside her sounding genuinely amused. She looked up at him squinting her eyes, he had brown hair parted down the middle a piercing in his brow and tattoos down his uncovered arms. He wore a casual plain t-shirt and a pair of skinny black jeans, he was cute she guessed, for a frat boy. 

'You think so? I just think it's gross, he's going to kiss someone with that mouth.' She shivered thinking about the poor girl connecting her mouth to his. The boy laughed beside her, a hearty and warm laugh, it made her smile gently without even thinking about it. okay, he was really attractive, he had this bad boy vibe that she always seemed to fall for. She knew it did her no good and always ended in heartbreak, but what’s life without a little chance?  

'How do you know it won't be you? Hmm?' He smirked leaning down closer to her she could smell the alcohol on his breath but he didn't seem even tipsy at this point, she guessed he just carried his alcohol better.

'Uh no thank you sir, I will be going home in the next 20 minutes if this keeps up.' She said placing a hand on his chest to push him away, he hardly moved which made her sigh, placing down her cup and crossing her arms accidentally on purpose pushing her breasts up. He looked at them blushed and looked straight back up at her eyes, no way was he coming across as an ass-hat, not today, not with such a pretty girl in front of him, the guys were going to be so proud he bagged this one. 

'You can't leave yet, the party has hardly started, here what's in your cup I'll get you another.' He offered picking up her cup and taking a sip. If there was anything he prided himself on was knowing exactly what someone was drinking, he screwed his nose up looking through his eyelashes at her.

'Water? That's what you're drinking?' She shrugged not really phased by the look he was giving her.

'I don't like alcohol or it's effects on good people, sue me.' She spoke taking the cup back and pouring the contents down the sink, it was about time to leave anyway. He grabbed her arm as she went to walk away pulling her through the living room turned dance floor and up the staircase, he lead her into a bedroom and shut the door behind him, even if he didn’t do it with her, he could at least make it look like he did. She lifted her hand smacking it across is soft cheek making it turn a deep shade of red, the anger boiled inside of her stomach as she opened her mouth to scream at the boy.

'Who the HELL do you think I am?!' She yelled in his face, he put a cold hand up to his cheek easing the sting slightly and smirking, his cockiness was not something she was warming up to.

'Listen babe, you looked like you were bored out your skull, I wanted to take you away from that.' He answered innocently, he didn’t want anything from her, not really, he just wanted approval, to not be seen as the baby or the newbie in this damn house anymore, in all honesty he was never that big on one night stands anyways, but the others were. She balled her fists angrily gritting her teeth, he was attractive, his smile was contagious, his cockiness was intriguing, his tattoos were beautiful. But she was not this girl and she would not be falling for it any time soon.

'Get out of my way, I don't even know your name.' She frowned pushing past him, he grabbed her upper arm stopping her in her tracks pulling her slightly closer to his chest.

'Jungkook babe, the names Jungkook.' She rolled her eyes harder than she ever could, Jesus this boy was infuriating. She closed her eyes taking a deep breath and smiling sweetly.

'Well Jungkook, get out of my god damn way before I make you.' He smirked raising his hands in defeat stepping away from the door letting her leave, truthfully all he wanted to do was talk to her for a while, have the guys think otherwise but quickly realised maybe he went about it the wrong way.

She sat down in the library placing her books in front of her and sitting back in the chair. Confused was the only emotion she had at the moment constantly thinking back to the night before, she couldn't shake his face from her mind, his tattoos littered down his arms, his cocky smile pulling at his lips and that sultry look in his eye that just screams take me to bed. She was attracted to him sure, he was her type, that was obvious, but she couldn't understand what has possessed him to drag her through the party like that. She threw her head back grabbing her hair and tying it up gently and getting to work.

He stepped into the library saying a quick hello to the librarian who he had become familiar with, she smiled at him in return as he wondered through the isles of books. He picked out a book and began searching for a seat. He spotted one and quickly walked to the desk in the middle sitting down, he opened the book on the first page settling into it. Jungkook didn't really need to study for his classes, he was a bright young mind and felt there was no need to study what he already knew. Instead he came to the library just to read anything he felt like picking up that day, he loved his friends but they were a lot sometimes, this gave him a much needed break from the frat boys he shared his time with.

She looked up from her book to see a boy sitting in front of her deeply into his book, she squinted her eyes at him realising who it was and quickly throwing her head back into her book. Did he know she was sitting there? Did he remember last night? What was he doing here? She refocused her eyes to see she was staring at him again and he was smiling at her.

'Nice to see you too.' He spoke softly before turning back to his book. She frowned completely unable to concentrate on studying now.

She flipped the page of her notebook and wrote down a note and pushed it towards him.

'What are you doing here?' he looked up at her confused then down at his book like it was grotesquely obvious.

'What does it look like I'm doing? I'm reading you drama nerd.' She huffed at the note looking down at her Shakespeare book lay on top of the desk.

'I'm not a drama nerd I'm an art nerd, I just like reading Shakespeare.' He raised his eyebrows and made a little 'okay then' face before flipping the book closed and looking at the front page, her name scribbled across it.

'Well Y/N the art nerd, I'm sorry about last night, sober me wanted to talk. Drunk me didn't do it the right way.' she smiled down at the note and looked at him once again. His eyebrow piercing mostly hidden behind his fringe that he was wearing down today, big round glasses placed on the bridge of his nose, they would look comical on anyone else, but on him they were perfect. His tattoos covered by a dark blue hoodie zipped almost fully up, he didn’t have a jacket with him, was this boy immune to the cold? He looked more innocent, younger, like he should be in a library, not a frat boy who came to read up on new alcohol mixes or something.

'it's okay, I liked talking to you before you yanked my arm out its socket.' she smiled tearing the paper out handing it to him and getting back to work on her research. He read the note again smiling a toothy grin and biting down on his lower lip shyly.

He closed the book he was reading writing down his number, he handed the paper back placing his book back on the shelf and bidding goodbye to the librarian on his way out. She unfolded the paper looking down at the number and smiling, god she was falling Hook line and sinker for this shit.

'Subtle handing me your number and running away.' She typed out sending it to him, getting a reply instantly she smiled looking down at it.

'I was scared you might slap me again, running was my safest option.' He replied back, she snorted putting her books away and heading out the library.

'How am I supposed to study with you texting me? Hmm?' She questioned him fully aware that she was now heading home to do absolutely nothing.

'I refuse to believe you're still in that library, and hey if you can't study come to this party tonight...?' She pondered it for a second before typing back.

'Do you think a party is a good idea? I drink water...' She was thinking about it however, it's not going to cost her anything to let go for one night...

'I promise you I can find one drink you'll like.' She raised an eyebrow, that was a pretty big promise to make.

'challenge accepted.' It's not going to hurt to try it once.

'Why do we have to leave because you have a date, I have tests coming up I need to study for!' Tae whined as Jungkook hurried them out of the house.

'It's not a date, she thinks it's a party!' He answered practically shoving them out the door.

'Well here's something to ponder Kookie, if she thinks it's a party why would no one be here?' he shoved them out the door leaving them to fend for themselves before looking at Yoongi to answer his question.

'I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.' He spoke slamming the door and pressing his back to it.

She read the text with the address and time looking it over, she shrugged and walked into the house anyway just assuming she was probably early.

'Hello? Jungkook?' She jumped a foot in the air as he popped his head around the corner.

'Hey sorry I'm in here come through!' He said before disappearing again. She followed the sound of clinking glasses standing in the kitchen doorway.

'Am I early?' She questioned timidly realising it was only her and him here.

'No you're just in time actually, it's not a party, I may have only invited you.' Her eyes widened as he walked behind her pushing her into the kitchen placing her gently where he stood before.

'Jungkook! Why didn't you just tell me I still would have came.' she frowned leaning her elbows on the counter top looking at the mess he had made. 'What is all this anyways?' he perked up walking around to the other side of the counter pushing a glass in her direction.

'I’m glad you asked, try this.' He spoke expectantly waiting, she took a deep breath tipping the glass back and coughing at the liquid spitting most of it out.

'Disgusting what was that.' He smirked pouring another drink with a different liquid.

'That was vodka and lemonade, try this one.' This one was pinkish in colour and she was slightly hopeful. She took a sip as the bubbles hit the back of her throat she burped slightly at the air in her belly and blushed.

'Tasted okay but too many bubbles.' she spoke hiccuping. He smirked at the alcohol slowly taking effect on her.

'Okay try this one I'm sure you'll like it.' It was in a tall glass and she smirked at the little umbrella at the rim. She took a sip through the straw and her eyes widened in surprise and delight. It tasted fruity, mainly peach and oranges and she sipped happily.

'You might want to slow down there y/n, it is still alcohol.' She had to practically pull the straw out of her mouth sighing in delight at the taste lingering on her tongue.

'that's really good what is that?' She spoke taking another sip. He blushed slightly not wanting to say the name so telling her what's in it instead. She raised an eyebrow glad she was able to pinpoint the fruit juices.

'Okay and if I ever go out and want to order it? What's the name?' He blushed scratching the back of his head, she hadn't noticed how flustered he had become so he decided to go for the cocky approach.

'It's called a slow comfortable screw babe, order it if you want.' Her eyes widened as she blew some of the liquid back out through the straw causing some of it to splash on her face. Jungkook pulled a dishcloth out from the drawer and handed it to her so she could wipe her face.

'regardless of the name, it tastes really good, may I-'

'have another?' he questioned for her, already pouring it. She looked at him and smirked, this was going to be a disaster. She could already feel the alcohol taking effect, her head was dizzy the corners of her eyes blurring out. This was the part she hated the part she decided was what she never wanted, but for tonight and tonight only she would go further to see what the fuss was all about. He placed the drink down in front of her grabbing a bottle out the fridge for himself, he didn't plan on getting drunk, he wanted to remember as much of this as he could, also he was getting someone who never drank a bit wasted, he had someone to take care of tonight.

'So if no one else is coming, is this a date Mr frat boy?' He looked up from playing with the label on his bottle to make eye contact with her.

'Frat boy? What about me actually screams frat boy?' He was genuinely curious, he always thought he was more of the outsider in the house.

Jin was a ladies man and everyone knew it, the oldest of the group sure to graduate next year with honours of course, had every girl at his finger tips. He didn't need piercings or tattoos to stand out he just naturally did. Hoseok, the dance major, everyone begging to be his dance partner always the life of the party and would happily take any girl who requested it. Yoongi, the enigma, no girl could understand why they all swooned but they did, Jungkook always assumed it was because he put out this bad boy persona like he could say he loved you just to shatter your heart, but in all honesty was the nicest and most honest guy you would come across. Namjoon the closet nerd, was the biggest party animal and girl magnet but most of the time was reading up on something, Namjoon would stick out more if his girlfriend wasn't a complete babe. Jimin, there was nothing to say about him he was a total Chad, party animal with an alcohol tolerance of a Scottish father, every girl wanted him but he kept himself completely off limits, he didn't want a name for himself. And last but not least Tae, Jungkook could say he related a lot to him. Tae was in on scholarship just like Jungkook, so he had to study and keep his grades to stay where he was, but he loved his brothers just as much as the degree he was studying, therefore took part in all parties and bad decisions. 'All part of the experience brother' Tae would tell him over and over. And then there was himself, the youngest, the quiet one, the one girls tended to stay away from, the library nerd. The only reason he ended up in the frat was because they took pity on the punk looking little boy looking lost on campus, this frat house wasn’t the muscle boys and gym rats. It was more party animals and discount bad boys, Jungkook looks the part but never acted the part. 

'I don't know the piercing the tattoo the leather jacket blah blah blah very bad boy, very frat boy.' she replied sipping on her drink slurring ever so slightly.

'I guess I fit the frat boy description then huh, and it's only a date if you want it to be.' She sighed pouting thinking intently, she hummed taking the last sip of her drink and sliding the glass back to him.

'I'm not sure yet, make me another drink and we’ll find out.' she pathetically flirted and shrugged, passing it off as if it wasn't driving her crazy inside out.

'Do you want to try a blow job?' He asked pulling things out the fridge like he hadn't just asked her what he did, her eyes shot out of her skull as she smacked the boy on the arm.

'JUNGKOOK WHAT THE FUCK?!' She screeched full volume maybe not realising how much effect the alcohol had.

'Oh shit no, it's a shot! I don't want, I mean I do, but like not like, ah shit.' she burst into laughter, him getting so flustered clearly thinking he had messed up. She took a deep breath regaining composure and grabbing his arm.

'Yes, I will try a blow job.' He smiled at her leaning in to connect their two lips together.

'Wow clearly I came back at the wrong moment.' He heard a voice from the doorway.

'I MEANT THE SHOT!' He screeched at the older turning around to face him. Tae stood against the door frame book in hand smirking at the scene before him.

'We don't take advantage of drunk girls in this house, everyone must be sober Kookie' Jungkook rolled his eyes stepping closer to Tae.

'What are you doing back anyways? And its not like that one bit.' Jungkook defended making Tae smile.

'I know Kookie I know, I just needed my book you two kids have fun.' He patted him on the shoulder walking back out the house.

'okay where were we?' he spun around on his heals to face her, but she wasn't stood where he left her, god damn it drunk girls.

'Y/N?!' He screamed going from room to room, glass of water in hand to sober her up slightly, maybe he had gone a sip too far. He came to Yoongi’s bedroom swinging the door open finding her sitting in the middle of the room flicking through a notebook, oh dear, oh shit.

'Y/N, we can't be in here come on.' He put his hand out for her to grab but she snapped her head up to look at him smiling.

'Who's room is this? This is beautiful.' She was reading what looked like maybe a poem or lyrics, either way it was something heartfelt and 100% something no one, bar Yoongi, should know about.

'I don't know babe, come on let's go to my room how about that?' She stood up quickly, accidentally bumping into his hand, knocking the cup and causing a small spill on his shirt, she gasped and looked down at the spill and snorted. He rolled his eyes picking up the book and placing it on the desk.

'What are you giggling at you drunken mess?' She giggled again moving closer to him poking at his chest.

'I can see your nipple huh, I forgot guys have those things.' She spoke pinching it, he yelped moving back and running down the hall into his room, she followed close behind collapsing on his bed laughing hysterically. He placed the water on the bed side table, sitting her up forcing her to drink some of it. He turned around taking his wet shirt off and putting a dry one on and changing out of his jeans into shorts. She watched him get changed the back muscles flexing as he moved, a tattoo she hadn't seen reaching around his ribs.

'Agh!' She yelped he turned around quickly in case she had hurt herself. He looked at her and laughed a hearty laugh looking at her trying to pat dry her lap.

'how did you manage to dribble it down you.' He spoke through gasps of laughter.

'Well you see, I looked up momentarily and there was practically a naked man before me, I drooled, in short.' He laughed again before helping her up, she slipped her shirt over her head, making him cover his eyes quickly she laughed at his bashfulness before removing his hand so he could see her.

'it's just a nipple Jungkook, see!' She said pinching his nipple again making him yelp once more.

'You need to stop doing that, I’ll start pinging yours.' He spoke sternly walking over to the dresser to grab her a shirt, he quickly slipped it over her head smiling at how baggy it looked on her. She removed her trousers and slipped under the sheets, grabbing Jungkooks hand pulling him down on top of her. Their faces lay inches apart she pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss.

'this was a good date Kookie, I enjoyed it.' He smiled pressing his lips to hers once more shifting so he lay beside her.

'I enjoyed it too, now go to sleep, we can talk more tomorrow.' she closed her eyes and fell asleep quickly letting the alcohol sit in her body, sure to wake up with a hangover the next morning.

The sunlight poured through the gap in the curtains beaming down on her face, causing her to stir slightly before rolling over throwing her face in the pillow, she threw her arm over the empty side of the bed to find it not just full but also laughing. She shot up looking around realising quickly that this was not her room, not her bed, not her clothes and really not right. She looked at the boy beside her taking in his features and relaxing slightly.

'We didn't, we never, you know...' He smiled pecking her cheek before passing her some pills and water.

'What kind of man do you take me for my dear, and FYI you totally wanted it.' she swallowed down the tablets choking slightly on the excess water.

'I didn't not, don't talk crap.' She spoke confidently, even being drunk for the first time she was almost certain, this, was not something she would want.

'Oh yeah, you were all, oh Jungkook please i’ll do anything, I'll try a blow job, even ask Tae he heard it!' She laughed remembering parts of that moment.

'Oh really, because from what I remember you meant the shot and got all blushy when I questioned it.' she challenged he looked down at his hands blushing again. She smacked his arm climbing out of his bed.

'What are you doing?' He questioned as she wandered around his room picking things up and examining them.

'I'm trying to get to know you, figure you out.' He walked over to her sitting down on his computer chair.

'Oh really so tell me, what are you figuring out?' he questioned curiously.

'Well, you're a music major which is cool, you've got a lot of music sheets here, notebooks, I'm assuming are filled with lyrics that I will never see.' He nodded agreeing along listening to her speaking, enjoying the sound of it. 'You're a little gamer boy by the looks of that set up, but it doesn't take a genius to see that. You’re a family man, with all these photos sitting about, however I have one unanswered question.' He perked up pulling her hand, dragging her closer to him.

'and what’s that sweetheart?' he spoke morning voice still laced through his vocal chords.

'if you are a music major, why were you not studying music, rather reading a book about wildlife?' he smiled glad this was her only question.

'JIN MADE FOOD JUNGKOOK!!' Jimin screamed from the hallway his feet thumping down the stairs.

'Care to join us for breakfast? And then maybe we can go out for lunch later?' She looked down at her outfit shrugging, she requested a pair of shorts slipping them on and grabbing Jungkooks hand kissing him softly before pressing their foreheads together.

'I would love that.'

[alkhale]

Pretty (Kirishima x Reader )

first of hopefully many ko-fi requests, this was super sweet and indulgent to write, I feel like I needed something salty to swallow it down because of the fluff

thank you all so much for the kind donations and the insane support, for the anon who requested some sweet goodness with the donation, I hope you like it!

Kirishima Eijirou’s always been the kinda guy who’d agree almost anything was pretty.

When Kaminari would point out a girl walking down the streets and instantly calculate his chances with her, he’d laugh and nod with his boyish grin that yeah, she’s pretty cute. When Hagakure would come bounding up to him and talk about how pretty she made her hair look today he’d agree with a bright smile even if he couldn’t see it, Hagakure had a pretty personality so her hair was probably the same. When Mina showed him image after image of models and outfits she thought were pretty, he’d nod and look thoughtful and agree. When Todoroki would stop for a moment and glance up at the newly budding cherry blossoms trees outside and say, more to himself that they were pretty, Kirishima would grin with a wide smile and agree.

It’s true after all. There’s thousands of pretty and cute and beautiful things out there in the world. He’s always been more of the type to notice the more manly things, of course, but they’re out there. It’s more often that he’d agree things are pretty then not pretty--he’s just never had much of a heart for stuff like that anyway.

“Two pineapple pork buns please.”

You look like you’ve been through a bit of hell.

Kirishima Eijiro is frozen.

There’s a cushioned bandage plastered over your left cheek. The top of your right eye is a bit swollen from a cut and another bandaid is covered over the bridge of your nose. Your hair’s done up in a messy sort of bun with strands falling out this way and that. The top collar of your uniform is missing its necktie and your gray blazer is wrapped around your waist instead of over your shoulders despite the growing weather drop with the coming of the winter season.

One of Lunch Rush’s assistants is quick to handle your order, taking your ticket while you wait patiently. He’s not sure what the hell he’s doing, standing there like an idiot in the line right beside yours as he limply holds his own lunch ticket in his hand for a bowl of katsudon. You blow some air through your lips and tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Something seems to rouse you and you turn your eyes his way, pausing for a brief moment.

Kirishima can hardly comprehend what’s happening around him. The ticket is still loose in his grip and Lunch Rush is trying to snatch it from his hands because he’s just a bit out of reach behind the countertop. He’s pretty sure his mouth might’ve fallen open and he’s just been caught openly staring because--

You raise a brow. Something like curious amusement flickers through your eyes--I didn’t know eyes could look so pretty in that shade--but then you frown for a second, touching your bandaged cheek and your eyes look back down and you turn away.

Something seizes his chest, fierce and quick and he only feels like this in the middle of training or a really good spar. Kirishima’s lips part and before he knows what he’s doing he shouts, “Y-Your eyes!”

A sweet, savory scent hits the air. Your tray is presented before you but you’re looking at him curiously and Kirishima eagerly gestures to his own. “They’re, uh, they’re really manly!”

A bout of silence. Confusion colors your face, comically scrunched up and Kaminari who’d been about to say something behind him about all his weird shit is now gaping at him in horror while Sero looks like he’s considering sneaking into the next lunchline over. You make a funny face before seemingly understanding and Kirishima straightens to attention when you face him once more and tap the corner of your eyes.

“It’s just my Quirk.”

You say nothing else. Nada. Nothing. Just shrug and grab your pineapple pork buns and go.

The reaction is slow--and then all at once. His ears flush a dark, deep apple red before his cheeks follow like the ends of his dyed hair. Kaminari is shaking him from behind trying to get him to explain himself for his weird attitude and Sero’s apologizing to the annoyed upperclassmen behind them but all Kirishima can bring himself to think is how stupid and unmanly he was because--

He’d wanted to say your eyes were pretty.

You’re part of the Support course.

It’s Kaminari who does him the favor of finding out. Apparently you’re fairly notorious amidst the batch of Support course first years. You hang out with the girl who’d gone against Iida in the sports festival--Mei Hatsume. Easy to spot because you’ve often got a bandage on your face or hands for some reason or another.

(F/n) (L/n). Even your name is pretty. Kaminari, for all his teasing and joshing is oddly curious and attentive as he helps Kirishima out. When Kirishima had tried to just shrug the whole thing off, Kaminari had shot him a finger gun accompanied with a little zap and said, “You don’t look at someone like that and just forget about it.”

Kirishima isn’t even sure what it is. All he knows is that he’s never seen anyone like you before and never felt this way before and yeah, he’s an aspiring pro hero with a lot on his plate and he knows you must be swamped with your own work and maybe he’ll feel this way looking at something else again but--

He’d be a complete loser if he didn’t even just tell you once, properly.

“I told you, didn’t I? The costume design needs to look like this.” The angry, harsh voice cuts like a knife through the hallway and Kirishima pauses, his grip on the class notebooks tightening as he peeks around the corner. Woah, bullying at a school like this? “You can’t just go and change shit because you feel like it!”

The sound of papers fluttering in the air fill the hallway before they settle onto the ground without much other fuss. There’s two students--upperclassmen from the Heroics department by the looks of it--blocking his view of the third party. Kirishima frowns, tightening his grip and squaring his shoulders. What the hell do they think they’re doing?

“And I told you,” your voice barely hits the other end of the hall but it floods Kirishima’s ears like the first tolls of a bell, “it’s not gonna work.”

He goes rigid, quickly sidestepping a few inches to the left so he can peer around the upperclassmen and sure enough--

Your hair’s in a neater bun today but stubborn strands still stick out. There’s a bit of grease on the corner of your chin and a new bandaid is plastered underneath your right eye. Why are you always getting hurt? Is it them? Accidents? How can I help you? You’re wearing comfortable working clothes, loose, rolled up pants and shirt stained with oil and other smears.

But your eyes are alight. They don’t shift or waver and they pin the two guys down in front of you. Kirishima sees their fists clenched tighter. “Your Quirk isn’t gonna cut it out for the costume. The designs were made by me but the touch-ups were recommended by your homeroom teacher. If you’ve got beef, take it up with him.”

“Don’t think you’re all that just because we need you for something like this,” one upperclassmen fists his hand into your shirt and tugs you forward. Kirishima feels his entire body go taut. “You’re just Support anyway--”

Your eyes narrow and your lips part, but before you can speak, Kirishima doesn’t even know when his feet had already carried him so close to the three of you and--

“Hey, let her go man!” Kirishima reaches forward with one hand, grabbing the back of the upperclassman’s shirt, but the weight in his arms suddenly slumps and he quickly remembers he was carrying the class notebooks. Pounds of paper come sliding from his arms and slam hard into the back of the two upperclassmen, toppling them down to the floor.

Kirishima gapes at the scene, a dribble of sweat trickling down the side of his face because wow, that was not how that was supposed to go. His cheeks flush a bright red and the upperclassmen groan, trying to shrug off the weight on top of them and he can’t help but think man, how uncool, they’re not that heavy.

It’s like a bell.

Kirishima feels his hands drop down to his sides as he stares. The soft sound starts to fill the hallway and then your hands are suddenly wrapped around your middle, lips parted and teeth shining as you laugh and laugh and laugh. His mouth has parted somewhere along the way, unable to speak as he wonders how he was suddenly blessed with the chance to hear this beautiful sound and you subside into stifled snickers before your eyes finally find his and they shine.

“C’mon,” you say quickly, grabbing his hand before he can say otherwise and tugging him along. His feet move before he even realizes and suddenly he’s running behind you, your bun bobbing and shifting and you tip your head back to laugh harder as you race down the hall, ignoring your screeching upperclassmen. “Pick up the pace, hero!”

Something spurs in the back of his mind. Kirishima quickly closes the distance between you two and now you’re running together, panting and laughing breathlessly and he keeps trying to sneak glances of your smiling face because he’s got to say it--

“Y-Your laugh!” Kirishima gets out in between breaths.

Your pretty eyes turn his way and he stutters, stumbling over his feet before he steels himself and snatches an ounce of Bakugou’s confidence and he shouts, “I-It’s, uh, it’s--”

Your watching him closely, curious and inviting and he spits out, “It’s such a manly laugh!”

Bro, what the hell?

Kirishima suddenly wishes he could drop your hand and slam himself into the nearest wall. But before he can consider it for another second, your laugh increases tenfold and then you’re nearly doubled over from running and laughing and you pat your chest, smiling so wide he thinks this is what the sun must look like. Kirishima’s cheeks flush and his hands tighten ever so slightly around yours and you shine, shine, shine.

“It’s my Quirk!”

Your smile’s absolutely beautiful.

It’s the third time he thinks it that he finally gets it right.

Chance encounters, waves in the hall, small chats in-between classes and during passings. He’s guarded them all as closely as he can, ignoring the teasing jeers from his classmates and the gushing advice and eagerness of the girls in his class as well. You work actively with him to help make improvements on his costume since he often needs them with his Quirk. It’s your ideas coupled with Hatsume’s hard work that help shape his new costume.

The thoughts never cease, the feelings continue to grow, and he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t do something about it soon, Bakugou’s about to blow him to kingdom come from the growing annoyance with all his, “Fucking lovesick shit, do something about it Shitty Hair.”

Kirishima’s been mapping it all out. Mina’s offered mountains of advice and shoujo mangas for reference on how to say it and while Kirishima’s always been a simple guy, he’s got to say it.

But before any plans can be enacted and simulations done, it comes to him and to you as suddenly as a summer rain.

The rain comes down in a light shower. Nowhere on the broadcasts had said anything about it and he’d been currently mulling over asking Yaoyorozu to make him an umbrella just this once so he wouldn’t get wet on his way home. There’s barely any sunlight out with the gathered clouds and it’s when he rounds the corner, making up his mind that he sees you.

Your hair’s down this time. It curves around your shoulders and falls freely. Soft. It looks soft. Ends curl against your cheeks and sweep over your shoulder as you press your forehead to the glass. There’s no bandages on your face this time--you got hurt often with your line of work but you were working on it, apparently, and his recent, flustered warning has given you more reason to be careful.

There’s this look in your eyes. It’s soft and gentle but it devours all at once. You drink in the sight of the falling rain and your smile curves along your lips as though someone had merely swiped their finger through a swatch of sunlight and dragged it across a canvas. He’s never seen you with your hair down before. Never seen you look so serene and happy and beautiful all at once as you watch the rain fall and then he remembers in your hundreds of chats that you like the rain because it reminds you of new things.

“I love new things,” you’d said with a laugh. “It’s why I invent.”

“Don’t tell me you only like me because I’m new,” he’d joked, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing to you but then you’d smiled at him so wide and so soft he thought his heart had burst from his chest.

“Nah,” you’d said with a grin. “I like you because you always make me feel new too.”

Kirishima’s only a few feet from you. The clouds cast a kind of somber shadow but you shine against it like a sliver of moonlight. Your eyes are so, so warm and then they glance up, as if searching. You find him at the end of the hallway and the gaze in your eyes shifts, taking him in as though he were the rain and Kirishima wonders if this is what a time Quirk would feel like because suddenly nothing else is moving but the beat of his heart in his chest.

Your pretty eyes meet his and that pretty smile stretches so wide across your face.

“Hey.”

“You’re beautiful.”

His words hang in the air. His heart thuds wildly against his chest and he thinks of everything Mina has ever told him to do and it all goes flying out the window. You’re stuck there, frozen for a moment as you take in his words with wide, startled eyes. Your hand almost robotically reaches up to touch the side of your face and he knows the next words about to come from your lips so he cuts you off.

“Not your Quirk,” Kirishima says. “Just you.”

A moment.

Slowly, suddenly, your cheeks flush the darkest shade of red he’s ever seen on your visage. Your eyes grow round like saucers and you suddenly stare at him as though he’d pulled the moon from the sky and offered it to you as a gift. Your lips part, words stumbling and stuttering as you cup your cheek and then press the back of your hand to your mouth in embarrassment. Kirishima feels breathless and powerful all at once and then he goes carefully still when your eyes dart to him and then away.

“...you too.” You start softly, turning your head.

Kirishima blinks in clear confusion, drunk off you and this and everything and you swallow, rubbing the back of your head before you meet his eyes.

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful.”

Kirishima can’t help but wonder if that what the sound of his heart flying out of his chest and into your hands sounds like or if it’s just his imagination.

He thinks it’s pretty regardless.

[porkchop-ao3]

I.C’s Suit Fitting

More OC fun! This fic features both Ice Cream Rick and Tailor Rick. No reader here, but she does come up in conversation ;3 Tailor is giving the lovely I.C a suit fitting! A nice little character study to help us get to know these guys even more. 

So! SFW, just under 3k words, enjoy!

-

“This colour? Are you absolutely sure about that?”

It was going to be a long day, Tailor knew that much. What he did not know was why on earth Ice Cream Rick, of all people, had booked an appointment for a suit fitting with him. It wasn't as if he had the money or the taste to pull off one of his suits. Especially if the whole thing was going to be done in pastel yellow for Christ's sake.

“Yes. T-totally sure. She says she likes that colour on me.” I.C replied to the tailor's snarky question with an undeterred smile on his face.

“Well yes, I'm sure she does, but not in this volume.” Tailor scoffed, scowling down at his book of fabric samples. “An-and I don't even use this fabric for suits. It's far too thin, I use it for linings. A subtle hint of colour. Only an idiot would walk around wearing a suit in this colour.”

I.C cocked a brow, glancing down at the suit Tailor had decided on that day. Emerald green shot with magenta, the colour shifted in the light. He would question it, but he couldn't be bothered to listen to the hour long lecture that would no doubt follow.

“If it's too thin, source me a fabric that's suitable. But I'm having this colour. It matches a dress she has…” I.C insisted scratching at his goatee as he looked down at the fabric once again. He thought it would look pretty cool, paired with a powder blue shirt.

“Oh, bloody hell, you're going to be matching? Christ.” Tailor sighed, turning on his heel and pulling out a second book from his shelf, containing more fabric samples. “If you insist on going with yellow, may I suggest something to break up the colour? Stripes, perhaps. That might just work with the correct accessories. Very Dick Van Dyke.”

“Huh?”

“You've seen Mary Poppins, haven't you? The scene with the chalk pavement drawing? Oh, never mind. Just make sure you find yourself a nice pair of white brogues and a cane.” Tailor muttered somewhat sarcastically, slamming the heavy book down on the desk and flicking through it until he found what he was looking for. “This. With plain white trousers.” Tailor suggested.

This fabric was mostly white, but had yellow stripes of varying widths running along it. I.C pursed his lips as he looked at it.

“Alright. I will trust you on this. And what about the lining, you mentioned lining?” He nodded, looking back up at Tailor who gave a long suffering sigh and pointed towards the original choice.

“If you must have that particular fabric somewhere, then I suppose it would be fine to line it with that.” Tailor said, bringing a smile to I.C's face. “And what are you wearing it with? Would you like a shirt as well or are you just springing for the suit and trousers this time?”

“Just the suit and pants. I'm not- well, I have a shirt in mind.”

“Don't tell me it's a pink polka-dot eyesore, or-or something along those lines.” Tailor grumbled, jotting something down in a notebook – not dissimilar to the one I.C owned for his ideas, he thought – on a page with 'Mr. Whippy’ written across the top. I.C still didn't understand what that was about.

“No. It's a p-pale blue, plain one with white buttons.” He said defensively, though he wouldn't admit that he did in fact own a pink polka-dot shirt as well.

“Hm, not terrible.” Tailor nodded thoughtfully. “I'll allow it.” He added.

“Oh, thank goodness.” I.C rolled his eyes in mild annoyance.

“So what's the occasion for this? And you'd better not say a funeral because I'll throw you out of here.” Tailor asked, closing up the fabric books and carrying them back over to the shelf where they belonged. He slid them into their specific places carefully.

“No.” I.C frowned. “It's our anniversary. Six months.”

“You know, that's not really an anniversary that counts for anything, I'd at least wait a year before splashing out on a Sanchez suit. Not th-that I'm trying to talk myself out of a paying customer, but for the record, I don't do 'mates rates’. You'll be paying full price whether you're dating my assistant or not.” Tailor informed him dryly, and I.C tutted and rolled his eyes.

“I wasn't expecting that, w-we're hardly good friends anyway.”

“How you wound me.” Tailor whined dramatically shortly before dropping all emotion from his face. “Get up on there, would you? I-I-I'm ready to take your measurements.” He continued, pointing towards the low pedestal in the middle of the room.

The same pedestal that I.C's girlfriend to be had been creaming her knickers on during her own dress measuring earlier that year… Tailor had been tempted to mention it, but then again, he wasn't completely heartless.

Tailor brought a tape measure and his notebook over to I.C, who'd stepped up onto the pedestal and was standing rather awkwardly.

“You can relax, you know. I-if you're all stiff my measurements will be off.” Tailor said, slipping off his own suit jacket and hanging it off the back of a nearby chair.

“I'm-I'm perfectly relaxed, I've just never been fitted for anything before. I don't know how to stand.” I.C admitted a little sheepishly, watching Tailor come over to him uncoiling his rolled up tape measure.

“You don't say.” He mused, looking I.C up and down analytically, considering where to start. “Well, just stand naturally. Don't hold your breath, just be… hmm.” He suddenly narrowed his eyes.

“What?” I.C frowned.

“Those won't do. Take your trousers off, please.”

“What?” I.C questioned, his tone incredulous.

“Those trousers are too baggy, I won't be able to get an accurate inseam measurement, it'll be easier if you just remove them. Keep the shoes on, however.” He explained, looking up at I.C with his signature bored expression, holding out his hand. He was waiting.

I.C sighed and started to unbuckle his belt, fumbling as he did. If he was awkward before, he sure as hell was a lot worse now.

“If you're worried I'm going to laugh at how small it is, I assure you I'm a complete professional. I'll only tell my closest friends about it.” He added dryly, a smirk tugging the corner of his lip. I.C realised he'd never seen anything so close to a smile on his face before.

With a huff, he dropped his drawers – however awkward that might be with his shoes still on – and handed them to the other Rick, who walked across the room to hang them up neatly on a nearby clothes rack.

“That's better. Now, like I said, just relax and stand naturally. This should be quick and painless.” He said, returning to I.C and holding the tape measure between his two hands. “We'll do the chest measurement first. Again, don't hold your breath.”

Tailor stepped in front of the other Rick and briefly wrapped his arms around him, under his arms, and brought the tape measure around his torso. He took a few seconds to ensure it was level all the way around and adjusted it so that it was snug, but not too tight. Then he released him and turned to jot down the figure in his notebook, sitting on a portable table just behind him. He then walked around to I.C's back and stretched the tape out across the tops of his shoulders.

“So,” he started, simply to make conversation. “Where are you taking her for the anniversary?”

“Hm? Oh. I'm- well, I'm- I think…” I.C stammered, fidgeting a little. Tailor's eyes slid from the tape measure up to the back of his head curiously. “Honestly? I don't know.” He finally admitted with a disappointed sigh.

“You don't know?” Tailor repeated, moving to make a note of the next measurement before going over to his side, taking I.C's wrist in his hand and positioning his arm just right. He took the measurement from the top of his shoulder and down to where the jacket sleeve would fall.

“No. I-I-I'm actually kind of shitting myself at this point. I wanted to take her out somewhere real fancy, expensive, jus-just go all out, you know? But all the places I can think of are fully booked. Th-they have waiting lists!” I.C lamented.

“Oh, well that's no problem. The owner of Park Chinois is a client of mine. I could get you in. That's if it's in your budget, this is a very high end restaurant we're talking about.” Tailor told him, surprising even himself; he wasn't sure where the offer had come from.

By the look on his face when I.C slowly turned to stare at Tailor, neither did he. His eyes were comically large and his mouth was hanging wide open.

“You'll catch flies.” Tailor commented briefly.

“Are you fucking serious?” I.C exclaimed, his voice much higher in pitch than usual. Tailor chuckled to himself, but there was an edge of regret in its tone.

“Hmm. I could do it. I'd have to offer them a discount on their next purchase, but they're putty in my hands; they'll do it. That's if that's really what you want to do, has your girlfriend told you she'd like a slap up meal?” Tailor asked, noting down another measurement before pausing, crossing his arms and looking up at the other man.

“Well, no. I just thought that'd be the best thing- the most romantic thing-”

“Yes, taking out a second mortgage to pay for a meal and a suit. How very romantic.” Tailor rolled his eyes and immediately I.C was scowling at him.

“Listen, I don't know who you think you are – or who I am for that matter – but I can afford to splurge every once in a while. I might not drive a- a Bentley or whatever the fuck, but don't forget I own a business. A pretty successful business, actually.”

“Alright! Must've touched a nerve. I am sorry you feel that way about your money situation, I didn't realise you were so sensitive.”

“Oh, fuck off.” I.C grumbled, half tempted to storm out. But that'd only give him more ammunition.

“I suppose I can fuck off along with the offer of getting you that table for two?” Tailor's eyelids lowered, his face deadpan. I.C kept his mouth shut. They were quiet for a while, and finally Tailor returned to taking measurements.

“Do you think she'll like it?” I.C asked, his voice timid. “You spend a lot of time with her, maybe you know a different side of her. Help me out here.”

“Hmm, well, what do you usually do on your dates?” Tailor questioned.

“Well, a bunch of things. Lately she's been showing me around London. I suppose it's her way of returning the favour of what I do for her; I like to take her to different planets, and we'll just sit up on the hood of the truck and eat ice cream together, talking and enjoying the scenery. Then other times we'll go out to small towns or villages, find a l-little family run coffee shop or restaurant and eat there. We'll go on walks, sh-she likes nature reserves. Sometimes we'll just book out a hotel room somewhere and spend a weekend just- well, I live with Beth and the kids, she lives with her family, so it's a good chance to get some alone time.” I.C explained, staring off into space.

“First of all, gross. Second of all, all of that sounds pretty low-budget and quaint, I suppose. Does she honestly strike you as the type to want to go out to dinner somewhere like Park Chinois?” Tailor proposed, taking the outseam measurement of his leg. I.C was quiet for a moment, deep in thought. Tailor let him mull it over as he scribbled in his notebook.

“Hmm, maybe not. I don't know, I just want her t-to be happy, I want to let her know how much I appreciate her and- and I guess I don't know the right way of doing it.” He finally said, sighing heavily and chewing on his bottom lip.

“Perhaps, I don't know, speaking to her may help? Just a-”

“Watch where you're putting your hands!” I.C suddenly hissed, jolting away from Tailor who was kneeling on the edge of the pedestal. He stared up at the other Rick with a blank expression, completely unaffected by his outburst.

“Inseam. I'm measuring your bloody inseam, trust me, I don't want to touch your shrivelled up mole-rat, thank you very much. I'll leave that to my assistant.” Tailor quipped, trying again now that I.C was a little more prepared. “Anyway. I suggest you speak to her and ask her what she'd like to do. Then you can't go far wrong.”

“I wanted to surprise her.”

“You don't make things easy for yourself, do you? I'm going to measure your seat, which is basically your arse, so don't think I'm copping a feel, okay?” Tailor said absentmindedly, wrapping the tape measure around him. “In that case, I have no advice to give, you're on your own. However, the offer is there, if you'd like me to pull some strings.”

“Y-y-you'd seriously do that for me?” I.C questioned, looking at Tailor in a light he'd never seen him. He couldn't help but feel touched, underneath all of the surprise and disbelief.

Tailor looked up to meet his eyes and promptly scowled, huffing out a breath before spinning on his heel and scribbling in his notebook again. He was rough with his pen this time, clearly irritated.

“I'm not doing anything for you.” He muttered, much quieter than he'd normally speak. “Anyway, I'm done. You can get dressed now.”

I.C stared at him for a while, cogs turning in his head. His stomach churned with something deeply unpleasant and his heart rate picked up. He shakily stepped down from the pedestal and rushed over to where his pants were hanging up, suddenly feeling far too exposed in front of Tailor. He dressed quickly, chewing on his bottom lip until it was swollen and sore.

A number of unwelcome images were flitting through his mind; Tailor and his own girlfriend spending time together in this very room, alone. Long hours, late into the night. The few times they'd all been together he'd noticed the way Tailor looked at her, he'd thought nothing of it at first but he really looked at her; intense, holding her eye contact for far longer than necessary. And then there were the subtle touches, how he'd sometimes touch her hair to neaten out flyaways, or place a hand on the small of her back when they were talking. On a number of their dates, I.C had turned up to her house and he had been there, apparently helping her get ready. So he'd seen her undressed, hadn't he? Must've done, at the very least for her dress fitting with him all those months ago. She was beautiful, of course, any man would…

He let the thought fall flat and frowned to himself.

“Rick.” He started, his back to the other man. He heard him hum in acknowledgement. “Do you- uhh, well, are you-” He kept stalling on his words, he could not for the life of him get them out.

“Spit it out, I have another client arriving soon.”

“You're doing it for her, aren't you? You'll book us the table and give the owner a discount on your work for her sake.” I.C pointed out, turning around to look at him. Tailor raised his head to meet his gaze, eyes slightly widened.

“Who else? She's been a real help to me these past few-”

“Do you have feelings for her?” Came his follow up question, shutting Tailor up instantly.

The room was silent for a while, the two men simply staring each other in the eye.

“Yes. I'm in love with her, com-completely head over heels.” Tailor started, straightening up and rolling his eyes, totally breaking eye contact as he disinterestedly continued with what he was doing; rolling up his tape measure. “That's why I'm going through all this hassle; so she can go on a bloody date with you – Christ, what're you thinking? Get out of here. Morty will take your partial payment as you leave, I-I-I expect the rest when you come for your fitting once the suit is done. I'll make any necessary adjustments then.”

I.C was hit with a whole host of emotions, one after the other, and he didn't have time to work them out. Instead, he simply found himself nodding like a dumbass and scurrying towards the door. Before he left, he turned and cleared his throat before gearing himself up for what he was about to say.

“In- in that case. Would you- I'd appreciate it if you did, ahh, speak to the owner about that table. She deserves to be spoiled for just one night, doesn't she?”

“I will do my best and let you know by the end of the week.” Tailor replied without looking up, he was back at his desk, doing what appeared to be busywork.

“Thank you, Rick. You know, this is really going to-”

“It's nothing. Anything for the love of my life, do take care of her, won't you?”

I.C could hear the smirk in his voice and clenched his teeth, embarrassment rising hot below his skin. He left before he had the chance to say anything else.

Asshole.

[today-we-will-survive]

Welcome to Camp Bangtan pt. 3

Summer Camp au!

Jungkook x Reader/Y/N

Fluff

Word Count: 1,851

Part 1 | Previous | Next | Master List

A/N: New parts every Tuesday and Friday!

They left the Pit a little bit later after Sihyuk and Jiyoung mentioned a few more things to tide them over for the night. Pretty much just “no guys in the girls’ cabins, no girls in the guys’.” Then they shuffled back up the stairs and started down the trails again. 

When they got to their little west village, the girls broke off and headed toward their cabin. All the other guys were already in Jungkook’s cabin and most of them looked up when the door slammed shut behind him. 

Sejin jumped up like a puppy excited to see its owner home from work and clapped a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. 

“Everyone,” he said not too loud since the room was small and there were only six people in there but loud enough so they knew he was making some sort of important announcement, “This is Jeon Jungkook. He’ll be the other fresh meat staying in our cabin this week.” It was weird hearing such a nerdy guy say a phrase like “fresh meat”. When Jungkook glanced over at Taehyung, he didn’t even try to hide the amused grin. The other “fresh meat” as Sejin had said, was this small kid named Park Jimin. He lay in the top bunk on one side of Jungkook’s with his nose buried in a comic book. He didn’t know if the kid was just being anti-social because he was brand new like Jungkook or if he just really liked comic books. Either way, he gave a small smile then turned his attention back to the pages in front of him.

The other guys seemed friendly enough. There was Kim Namjoon, a tall kid with pale pink hair, sitting cross-legged on his bed directly under Taehyung’s, bent over an NES. He looked up and gave a polite nod. Next to him under Jungkook’s bunk was a mint haired guy named Min Yoongi. The big hoodie he wore about swallowed him up. He looked comfortable as he scribbled in a notebook, bulky headphones over his ears. He gave Jungkook a quick tip of his chin before returning his attention to writing. 

“So that’s everyone,” Sejin said and clapped him again on the shoulder. His eyes scanned the room as if this was his domain and he was a king observing his peasants. “Lights out in ten minutes, guys. We have a big first day ahead of us.” 

“I think you’ll like it here, Kook,” Taehyung said once they were both settled into their top bunks. His fingers drummed a repetitive rhythm on the edge of the frame. “You may be a newbie here but I’ll make sure no one gives you too hard a time.”

Jungkook gave a shrug. “Everyone seems nice enough. I don’t think they’ll give me a hard time.” 

“Well, you saw Jin earlier,” he said leaning in closer. “Maybe he sees you as a threat.” He waggled his eyebrows at this last part to add emphasis. 

Jungkook let out a snort. “We haven’t even started the games yet. How am I a threat?” 

“That’s not quite what I meant,” Taehyung muttered then rolled over onto his back so he could look up at the ceiling. “Jin has this thing for my sister.” Jungkook felt his ears turn red. “It’s creepy and weird and frankly doesn’t make much sense to me.” 

“He thinks I’m a threat?” Jungkook asked. “Did Y/N say something?” 

Taehyung craned his neck so he was looking at him upside down. “Uh, I don’t know,” he said with a cocked eyebrow. “If she did, you would have heard it. We’ve been with them all day.” 

“True.” Now, Jungkook rolled onto his back too. 

After a few seconds of silence, Taehyung let out a heavy sigh. “Besides,” he said, “I don’t think you and Y/N would be a thing anyway. She’s too weird.” 

“Right. Weird.” 

“Alright guys, lights out,” Sejin said and the room went dark. 

The sounds of material and zippers lasted for a few seconds as everyone settled in for the night, then it was silent. 

After a minute Jungkook heard Taehyung shift behind him. “Plus, we’re going to be best bros,” he whispered. “And best bros don’t become things with other best bros’ sisters.” Then he rolled over. “Nighty night, Kook.” 

“Night,” Jungkook said. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about Y/N. 

It was weird trying to fall asleep in the silence. Being right next to the window, he could hear all kinds of sounds outside. There were crickets and frogs nearby somewhere and the tree right by the cabin swayed a bit in the wind. Even with these soothing sounds, Jungkook found he was having a hard time falling asleep. At home, he always had a fan going so he wasn’t used to this. Pretty soon, he could hear Taehyung snoring by his head and he craned his neck to find the camper’s face in his and his mouth hanging open. His breath was hot and stale on Jungkook’s face and he had to turn away. 

It was going to be a long night. 

****

Jungkook couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours before he was shaken awake again. He didn’t think it was morning yet and when he opened his eyes and emerged from his sleeping bag cave, he could see that it was still completely dark outside. By the light of a lamp post outside, Jungkook could just barely make out Taehyung’s silhouette as he leaned over his face. Jungkook scooted back with a start. 

“What do you want?” he slurred. 

Taehyung put a finger to his mouth and let out a sharp shhh! “We’re going on a little adventure, Kook,” he whispered then climbed down from his bunk without making a sound. His eyes peeked up over the edge of the bunk “Hurry up and get some shoes on.” 

Judging from the look in his eyes, he wasn’t going to let Jungkook go back to sleep. With a groan, he rolled off the edge of his bed and landed hard on his feet on the floor. Yoongi let out a loud snore from the bunk under him and he froze. Neither moved until he was breathing normally again. As silently as he could, Jungkook grabbed his shoes and followed Taehyung out into the night. 

It was hard trying to catch up to Taehyung and put on his shoes at the same time. “Where are we going?” he asked as he hopped after the eager boy. 

“You are going to help us wage war,” he said with an excited clap. 

Jungkook followed him blindly through the darkness without an inkling of an idea of what he meant. He was about to ask when he stumbled out of the trees and found himself standing next to the stage, surrounded by the amphitheater. The Pit was completely dark and empty. Eerie almost, especially with how packed it had been just a few hours earlier. Two shadowy figures stood in the middle of the stage and Jungkook felt his heart pounding in his chest. When one of them turned, Y/N’s face materialized in the moonlight and she flashed him an amused smirk. 

Both she and Rosé were dressed in jeans and sweatshirts with the words “Camp Bangtan: Camping is IN-TENTS!” written on them. 

“Are you guys ready?” Rosé asked as the two of them walked toward them. Taehyung, Jungkook noticed then, was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt as well and there he was in a t-shirt and basketball shorts. 

“Did I miss the memo?” he asked tugging at his shorts. “Is there some sort of proper attire for whatever it is we’re doing?” Then he looked at Taehyung. “What are we doing, by the way?” 

Without answering, he opened the view screen on his camera and turned on the front flashlight. Jungkook squinted at the sudden brightness. 

“I already told you,” he said. “We’re waging war.” 

“I know, but what does that mean?” 

Y/N tugged on the sleeve of Jungkook’s shirt as Taehyung and Rosé started toward the opposite side of the stage. “You’ll find out soon enough,” she whispered and Jungkook could hear the smile in her voice. His heart faltered for a second as she pulled him after her across the stage to the other side. 

When they got back into the woods, Rosé and Y/N turned on a couple of flashlights. They followed the crisscrossing beams down the path until they reached a small, darkened building. Y/N shined her beam on the sign above a doorway. 

“What are we doing at the East bathrooms?” 

Taehyung whirled around and pointed the light from his camera up into his face. “For the third time, we’re waging war,” he said sounding a bit annoyed. “Jin is always too much of a wimp to initiate it.” Then he pressed something into Jungkook’s hand. A crinkly packet of something that was too hard to make out in the darkness. 

Jungkook followed the others into the bathroom then watched as they each went into their own separate shower stall. Confused, he followed suit and went to stand in the remaining one. By the randomly crossing beams of their lights, he was able to catch a glimpse of what Taehyung had put in his hand back outside. 

“What am I supposed to do with a packet of Kool-Aid?” he asked no one in particular. 

“You have to unscrew the showerhead.” Jungkook whirled around at the sound of Y/N’s voice to find her leaning against the cinderblock wall of the shower. “Sorry,” she said as she noticed the startled look on his face. Then she came up beside him and stretched up onto her toes so she could reach the faucet head. Her arm brushed his and he stepped back to give her more room. It stuck at first but then Y/N let out a grunt and the showerhead twisted with a squeak and came off in her fingers. “Now just dump the powder in here,” she said holding the nozzle out toward him. He ripped the packet in half and sprinkled the contents down into the hole.”

“What is it going to do?” Jungkook asked as he shook out the last little bit. 

Y/N grinned and met his eyes. “You’ll see tomorrow morning.” 

***

She was right. There was no missing the four East Siders as they walked in, glaring at their table from under their smurf-ish hair. Taehyung and the girls tried to stifle their laughter as Jin marched straight over and jabbed a blue stained finger into Jungkook’s chest. “This means war, Jeon,” he growled before swiveling around and stomping over to his own table to sit with Hoseok. 

Taehyung and the girls burst out laughing and Taehyung slapped Jungkook on the back. “What’s he threatening me for?” he asked throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m just an innocent bystander.” 

Y/N nudged his shoulder. “There are no innocent bystanders when Taehyung is involved. Only casualties,” she said and picked up a piece of bacon from her plate. “Welcome to Camp Bangtan.” 

What had Jungkook gotten himself into?