#oh. and uh. little side not that maybe i honestly shouldn't even say because i worry it might be embarrassing for both of us

[transgender-catboy]

hey anon!

if you ever need to talk more, either to get things off your chest or to just say words, you're more than welcome to message me again

[kolyasangel]

ERASE ME FROM HERE AND SET ME FREE

synopsis: now that you're acquainted with nikolai, you start to sense hidden troubles and you're even more determined to become closer to him.

content: ch. 2 of icarus falls - main navi / wc: 4.1k

The jingle of the bells ringing fills the air as you and Nikolai enter the cafe. The smell of freshly baked pastries and coffee hits your nose, creating a pleasing aroma. It's particularly busy today, bustling with customers, most likely because it's a Saturday.

"I didn't know you came to this cafe too, I always come here after work," you say to Nikolai.

"Oh yeah? That's nice." Nikolai says nonchalantly as he's intently looking at the menu, deliberating on what he wants to order, while you find yourself drawn to the delectable array of desserts behind the glass display.

"What are you getting?" you ask him.

"The iced honey lemon tea." He replies, looking to his side where you are. "What do you want?"

"I'll get the same thing as you, and slice of a strawberry cake."

He pauses, visibly curious about your choice of beverage. Perhaps you enjoyed his favorite tea too, he thought. "You like that tea?"

"I've never had it before so I want to try it, I like trying new things," you explain. He can't quite put his finger on it—but he finds something about your statement endearing and innocent.

Nikolai places the order, and you reach for your wallet in your little bag to pay for the both of you. He sees you do this and intervenes, halting you.

"Nuh-uh, put that way. I'm paying." he insists.

You look up at him and immediately shake your head in disagreement. "Please, I told you I would treat you."

"Hell no, I'm not letting you pay. What kind of guy would I be if I let the lady pay? I may be a dick, but I'm still a gentleman." he argues.

It was hard to hold back a laugh at his earnestness. He sounded so serious about his claim like he genuinely wanted you to believe him and it was so.. cute.

"Sometimes." you add, not missing the slight smile falling on his lips from your response.

Nikolai himself was a little surprised by your reaction and playful comment. He was expecting some kind of protest, not for you to laugh at him.

He motions you to sit at a table while he pays, so you do just that. You pick a small cozy table next to the window with two seats and sit down in one of them. As you sit, you rest your chin in the palm of your hand and look out the window, stealing occasional glimpses of passersby and whatnot outside. The events that occurred this morning went by in a blur—you showing up at Nikolai's door and waiting twenty minutes for him to get ready because he hadn't done so beforehand. You honestly don't know why it took that long because he didn't wear anything different than what you've already seen, just the usual t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn't mind, though—you're just grateful Nikolai agreed to spend time with you today.

You are caught off guard when Nikolai comes back and takes a seat in the chair across from you. Being in such proximity allowed you to observe and appreciate his features. His hair looks soft, and the striking eyes that met yours for the first time two days ago appeared to hold the same intensity, this time with a tinge of softness mingled in them. But, you figured that maybe you shouldn't be staring, so you fiddle with your fingers instead to pass some time before the drinks arrive.

Nikolai takes a moment to glance at your outfit while you aren't looking at him and notices how you dressed up in a pretty sundress today. For a second, he feels a bit bad that he didn't make the effort to fix up his appearance as you did, but the brief twinge of guilt felt was instantly drowned out by reluctant resistance. It doesn't matter.

"I'm happy you took time out of your day to hang out with me." you express and offer a cute smile, taking him out of his thoughts.

Nikolai looks at you, baffled, unsure of how to take your words or how to respond. "Hey hey, keep that away alright? This isn't a date or anything," he interjects before looking away from you to gaze out the window instead, avoiding your eyes and unwilling to engage further in your comment.

You felt your cheeks flush when he said that—that thought hadn't even crossed your mind. A date? With Nikolai? Like he'd ever want that.

Lost in your thoughts, you were pulled out of them as the waitress came with both of your drinks and your cake. She must've thought you and Nikolai were together, evidenced by how she grinned at you both and the two forks placed by the cake on the plate.

Nikolai, on the other hand, either didn't notice this or decided to ignore it. Rather, he seems unbothered while taking a sip of his tea, humming in delight when the familiar taste settles on his tongue.

You reach for your cup and take a sip of yours as well, eager to taste it. "Ooh, I like it! I think this might be my new favorite." you say before taking another sip, relishing the sweet and sour taste. A certain expression you couldn't quite identify flickers in Nikolai's eyes as he observes you.

Putting your tea down, you grew more curious about something and were practically itching to ask about it. "Can I ask you something, Nikolai?"

"You already did, silly." he playfully answers.

"Oh." you grin at the nickname, making you feel more relaxed. "Well.. can I ask how you got that scar?" you ask, resting your chin in the palms of your hands.

His eyes widen. He didn't expect that one.

As obvious as it was, he was still hoping you wouldn't ask about it, the risk of it leading to questions about his past surfacing. Despite this, fingers came up to his face to lightly graze against the scar that ran from his upper eyebrow and down his left eye. "This one? It's hideous isn't it?" he asks humorously, almost as if he's anticipating agreement.

"No, I think it actually looks kinda cool, it suits you in a way.." Your words elicit a gentle smile from him. "Did you get into a fight or something?"

"You could say that."

He was making it clear as day that he didn't want to elaborate or actually answer your question, so you didn't persist. Perhaps it wasn't a fond memory he liked to remember.

Instead, you notice him eyeing the cake in front of you.

"Do you want some? Here." You push the plate towards the middle of the table and hand him the other fork, waiting for him to take it, which he does.

He digs the fork into the other side of the cake and takes a bite before averting his eyes to look out the window, seemingly uncomfortable to meet your eyes in this moment.

You took another bite and munched on the cake happily, enjoying it.

"So.." Nikolai's mellow voice draws your attention. "What do you do for work?" he asks as he faces you again, initiating a conversation.

"I'm a florist," you reply, a smile lighting up your face. "The shop is not too far down this street, actually. That's why I come here after work since the walk is short." you explain.

"Florist, huh.." he muses, taking another sip of his tea as he listens to you intently.

"Yeah, I like flowers a lot!" you say, your passion for your work evident in your tone. "I love my job."

Nikolai seems genuinely taken aback by your enthusiasm. This was probably the first time he'd ever heard someone talk so fondly about their work, not that the event of him talking to people happened often. But it was unusual. You sure are a weird one.

"Do you like flowers, Nikolai?"

"Probably not as much as you do." he mutters, putting his tea down. "You go to school?"

"I graduated college recently.." you respond.

He nods in understanding. "Ah, you're young."

"You're young too right? You don't seem that much older than me." you tease, trying to gauge his age.

"I don't know if you'd consider me young, but by definition, I suppose I am," he replies with a hint of amusement.

"You're like the only person around my age I've seen in the complex, you know." you mention, smiling and reaching for your cup of tea. "I'm glad I bumped into you after he told me not to speak to you."

His brows furrow at your words. He seems upset. "Who said that?"

"Our landlord," you clarify. "A few days ago, after an apartment inspection."

"Oh, that old piece of shit." he grumbles.

"He's not that old.." you reply, puzzled by his reaction.

"The way you're saying it makes it sound like you have a crush on him." he jokes before taking another bite of the cake.

"What?! Absolutely not!" you exclaim, scoffing at the thought.

"Yeah, yeah whatever." Nikolai retorts, nodding and shrugging it off before asking you another question to switch the topic. "Any friends around here?"

You freeze but quickly shake your nerves off. "Now you're the one interrogating me with questions." you giggle, albeit nervously, wanting to avoid the question.

He tries to conceal a smile but fails when he hears your laugh, not being able to stop the corners of his mouth from curling upwards. "Yeah, I guess I am. Consider it sort of a payback, now we're even."

"I suppose so." you laugh, finding the banter between the both of you amusing. "Enough about me, I wanna know about you!" you say, eager to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Nikolai's smile fades and he clears his throat. "Oh, I'm not that interesting. You'll probably get bored if I start talking about myself."

"Aw, c'mon! Please?" you implore, displaying your keen interest in learning more about him. "What do you like to do in your free time?"

Your insatiable desire to know more about him. He hates it.

He clenches his jaw and his heart is beating faster in nervousness. "I don't know.." he says, not knowing how to answer your question.

You sense the discomfort hidden in his answer, noticing an undertone of dismay tainting his voice, so you decide it's best to change the subject. "When did you move here?" you ask with a gentler voice.

"I don't know, two years ago, I think. I lost track of time." He eventually mutters, his tone more quieter than before.

"Ooh, and where did you live before then? What did you do for work?" you ask, now interested in his past.

Nikolai stiffens, a hint of unease crossing his features. He can't tell you anything about his previous endeavors.

Although you're eager, he doesn't entertain your curiosity and remains silent, causing you to huff and lean back in your seat in frustration. He's so stubborn. But you can't hold it against him—for you suppose that you too are stubborn sometimes as well.

You look at your plate and notice the last strawberry, the one that sat on top of the cake, left on the plate. You push the plate towards Nikolai. "You can have it."

"Are you kidding? You eat it." He pushes the plate back to you, not understanding why you don't just eat it yourself instead of giving it to him.

You didn't know what you were expecting from him, but deep down, a part of you secretly wished for him to accept your nice gesture. Unwilling to make a big deal out of it, you poke your fork through the berry and take a nibble.

— ✦

After the two of you leave the cafe, the slight breeze provides some coolness from the heat as the sun's rays beat down on your skin.

Nikolai proceeded to walk to his car, but you hesitated, standing in place, reluctant to leave just yet. Your eyes instead lingered in the direction of the flower shop that was nearby.

"What are you waiting for? Let's go." he calls for you, drawing your attention.

You hurry over to him but don't get into the car. "Nikolai, I want to show you something. Please?" you told him, your hands clasped together, one squeezing the other. He was about to enter his car, but the way you spoke to him and the expression on your face made it very difficult to do.

He wished he could get rid of these feelings once and for all. His chest felt constricted. It was all too overwhelming—the way his emotions overbore and defied any rational thinking or reason. It annoyed him to no end. Damn it all to hell.

"No, come on, we're going." he tries his best to maintain his composure and conceal any weakness.

"Nikolai.." you touch his shoulder. "The flower shop is down the road, do you wanna see it? It'll be quick, I promise. I don't have the keys right now, but I could show you the outside."

Your touch is so gentle.

He pulls away, avoiding any further contact with you, and looks at you again with a peeved expression. He sighs deeply and puts a hand over his eyes, his other arm still gripping the car door handle.

Seeing his reaction, you decide maybe it wasn't a good idea to push him any further. Annoyance, or frustration, is what you believe he's experiencing, or maybe a combination of both. You move to the passenger side, not wanting to trouble him any longer, preparing to let him drive you home.

He removes his hand from his eyes when he hears shuffling and notices the sad look on your face as you are about to open the car door. "Fine, fine!" He throws his arms up in defeat.

You look at him in shock and move your hands up to your chest, a smile painting your face as he agrees to go check out the shop.

"Well, get a move on. We don't have all day." He says while putting his keys in his pocket and starts walking. You catch up to him and walk beside him, slightly ahead so that he can follow your direction. However, you do struggle a bit to keep pace as he walks faster since he's so much taller than you, which makes you somewhat nervous. But regardless of his slightly intimidating appearance, you still find him to be kind.

A few minutes later, Nikolai comes to a stop when you do, standing in front of a small building.

"Right here?" he asks.

You nod and move closer to peer through the glass into the dark, empty shop. "The shop isn't open on weekends."

Nikolai admires the shop exterior, finding it surprisingly charming compared to what he had imagined. The outside of the building is a dark green—a color of nature that perfectly suits the shop's offerings. He looks up at the sign that hangs above the entrance.

"Lily of the valley - Flowers and gifts."

He must admit, it does look like a cozy and inviting place to work and spend time in. It quite suits your personality, he thought.

"It's lovely." He says sincerely, more honest than he would've liked for it to come across.

The reason is inexplicable, but his reaction makes you more giddy than you expected it to make you, with his face looking so soft compared to just a few minutes ago. You're happy he likes it. You're so happy.

"What are you planning to do with the degree that you earned?" he suddenly asks. "I'm sure you don't want to stay working here forever."

"I would like to if I could." you say, no trace of uncertainty in your voice. "It doesn't pay much, but, for me it's better than anything else. It makes me happy.." your voice trails off.

He notices the falter in your voice. "You don't seem too happy right now."

"What? Oh.." you look at the ground before looking up again, your head still slightly tilted to the floor. "I just don't like talking about the future, I'm still not completely sure what I want and it makes me nervous. I don't want to get stuck with some job I don't enjoy and throw away my happiness."

Nikolai's brows ease while he attentively listens to you talking about your troubles. He doesn't know what to say to make you feel better or why he even cares at all anyway.

"I think the place I'm in right now is fine, and I shouldn't rush myself into getting a career." you continue. "Even if that day never comes, even if I stay at this place, I'll be content."

Maybe it's the look on your face that is visible to him through the reflection of the glass or the wavering in your typically cheerful voice. Whatever it is, something grips at his chest. His chest feels tight, and his heart is pounding against his chest, desperate in a futile attempt to break free from its cage. It feels like he can't breathe.

You look away from the glass and look back at Nikolai.

"I'm sorry, we can go back now.." you smile, but he sees right through you and can tell you are feigning ease from the lack of crinkles around your eyes.

Nikolai pats the pocket that holds his keys and starts walking in the direction of his car without exchanging another word, you following behind.

But you nearly bump into him shortly when Nikolai suddenly halts in his tracks. Your face would've almost touched his back if you hadn't looked up in time, and you quickly moved beside him to see what had captured his attention.

Your eyes land on a group of pigeons on the ground, and you can't help but smile as you watch them, finding their waddling walks cute. Then, you look back at Nikolai, who seems to be focused on the birds before noticing your gaze towards him, causing him to start moving again towards his car.

You follow him closely now, nearly brushing arms. "Did you want to watch the birds a little longer, Nikolai?" you ask, noticing the shift in his abrupt actions.

"No.." his voice is quiet, barely audible.

He enters his car and settles into the driver's seat, and you get into the passenger's side, carefully fastening your seat belt. Nikolai's car wasn't the nicest, quite the opposite actually with how messy and dirty the inside was, but who were you to judge the vehicle he drove? It wasn't any of your business so you kept your mouth shut—which is good for Nikolai as he's hoping you don't talk anymore for the sake of his sanity. He starts to drive and you grip your purse, succumbing to boredom, you decide to rummage through it for a bit before pulling down the sun visor to look in the little mirror.

"Fucking hell," he curses under his breath when he catches a glimpse of you looking at your reflection through the car mirror. His grip on the steering wheel tightens a little, deterring his eyes away and trying to focus on the road instead of how you're currently tracing your finger along the edges of your lips, cleaning up your lip gloss.

The ride back to the apartment complex was silent, thankfully, Nikolai thought. It was only when he parked that you caused that silence to dissipate.

"Nikolai, thank you for today." You're facing him now with a satisfied expression, a grin creeping up on your face.

One of his hands is still firmly gripping the bottom of the wheel while the other is on the door handle, avoiding looking at you. "You don't need to thank me for anything, and this was your idea anyway," he mutters in response.

"I know.. but you still agreed and took me out, and you even paid for me. So, thank you again." you say with a sweet smile. It had been a while since you casually hung out with someone like this, and you couldn't remember the last time you'd enjoyed someone's company so much, so your short time with Nikolai brought great delight to your day.

Nikolai looks at you, finally. His hand on the wheel relaxes and drops to his lap, and his features soften as his tenseness diminishes.

"You're welcome."

You feel your ears redden at his honest tone and the way he looks at you, a hint of glimmer visible in his eyes. Eventually, you tear your gaze away from him after a few seconds, which too, makes Nikolai snap back into reality. He looks out the car window and coughs, trying to dispel the slight awkwardness that crept in.

"Come on." He quickly gets out of the car and closes the door, not waiting for you to get out before he starts walking. You exit the car after him and close the door, catching up to him.

"Hey, Nikolai, glad to see you finally outside for once!" a voice calls out.

Nikolai clicked his tongue and made no eye contact with the man he despised.

"Ignore him," he mutters as the two of you approach the building.

You see the landlord on the first floor who, what you assume, is doing his regular duties. But you notice his stare fixates on Nikolai, and as you both near the stairs, you feel a hand grasp your wrist which causes you to gasp.

"Finally got a girlfriend?" he asks Nikolai, mockingly.

"Fuck off." Nikolai spews back. He must really loathe that guy for some reason. He lets go of your wrist and moves his hand to your back, gently urging you to move forward after you both pass the guy.

"Stay in front of me." his voice is stern.

You nod, your cheeks still burning from the sudden contact between you two.

"Why are you so mean to him?" you ask, visibly confused about the obvious scorn he regarded for the landlord.

"Because I'm sick of getting treated like shit."

His comment makes you frown as you hear his tone shift into an aggrieved one, the raw resentment in his voice transparent. He'd never been this expressive before, and you couldn't help but worry about him, wondering what might've led to such a stark change in his demeanor.

You and Nikolai make it to the second floor, and you stare as he gets his keys out, unlocking his door before turning to see you looking at him.

"What? Do you think you're coming in? Because you're not."

"N-No, it's not that! I just have to ask you something." you stammer out.

He sighs and closes his eyes while using a shoulder to lean on the doorframe, mentally preparing himself for only God knows what is about to come.

"Nikolai.." your mellifluous voice begins.

God, the way you say his name is too cute. It drips from your lips like honey.

I don’t like what you're doing to me.

"Yeah?" his eyes open to look at you again.

"We're friends, right..?" you timidly ask, awaiting his answer tentatively.

Friends? No. No, No, this was a one-time thing, right? What the hell do you mean friends?

His heart is beating fast like a drum and his hands began trembling. "I— uh.."

Too comfortable. Don't get too comfortable with her. She's already getting too comfortable with you.

"Nikolai, I just want you to know.. if you ever feel sad, you can talk to me. I'll be your friend." you beam. "I'm always next door, only a knock away."

His lips part slightly in thorough disbelief at what he is hearing, unable to accept it. You're concerned for him. You genuinely want to be his friend. Since childhood, he'd always been used to it being the other way around, but for once, someone was so kind enough to ask him instead, which left him quite awestruck, to say the least.

"Except when I'm at work." You try to lighten the mood, and to your relief, he lets out a chuckle.

"You smiled a lot today." you comment shyly. "You know, I think we should hang out like this more often. I wouldn't mind at all." you admit, your eyelashes fluttering as you look down.

"You didn't have to point that out." He feels a heat of embarrassment overcome him, his cheeks dusting with a soft pink color as he awkwardly rubbed the nape of his neck, your observation making him more self-conscious. "Me neither.." he added, the words spilling out of his mouth involuntarily.

Fuck. Why did I say that?

© kolyasangel 2024 - no reposts. do not copy, steal, or translate. reblogs are appreciated.

[onebizarrekai]

Fic Author Interview

I've been tagged by @unmaskedcardinal! been a while since I talked about any of this stuff, particularly as a very inconsistent fic poster haha

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

the visible number linked to my account is currently 60, no idea if this is counting the bizarre saga from my archive account or not. technically I've posted more, but they aren't part of that number.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

567,314.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

ibvs season 1 & season 2 are (thankfully) the top two on my account, considering they're… well. ibvs.

number 3 is formal humiliation, a utmv fic back in 2019 where I wrote 3 oneshots all with different pairs surrounding the same idea. it's uh, it's something.

4 is behave, a saiouma despair disease fic I wrote sort of ironically in 2020. I did not realize this weird oneshot would be the thing that jumpstarted my kage obsession.

5, for some reason, is glow, a ds fic I wrote in 2019. I do not know why this is the ds fic with the most kudos. I am just really glad that it's not one of the ones I wrote in 2018.

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

lately I have been trying to respond to more comments, if they're on a recent enough story and I can think of a way to answer.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

most of the fics I've written right now have been Random Spot In Time fics with no articulate ending, but game over is pretty edgy. I think. I've written a similarly edgy ending but it's in an anonymous fic. it occurs to me that edgy doesn't necessarily mean angst, but it can.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

somehow everyone lived happily ever after in the bizarre saga, no f'ing idea how they managed that

7. Do you write crossovers?

I have. I have as comedies. I tend to take a bunch of guys and put them in a new setting that they definitely shouldn't be in. poopenster high is an example of this, but none of that has ever touched the internet and I haven't touched it in like 2 years.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

oh my god like. maybe once? maybe? I don't even think it counted as hate. I think like several years ago some rando complained that season 2 of ibvs was trying too hard to be funny. I barely remember what it actually said, I just remember it being annoying.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

when I was in my v3 phase I wrote some, I think "feelings with smut" describes most of it decently. the nature of the kcu meant it was like, almost all trippy.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I dunno. I hope not. I think I've had people repost stuff without permission.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

probably?? when I was a teen I had people say they wanted to translate my utmv fics, I don't know which ones actually followed through anymore.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

(sigh) yes.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

oh god, I think I honestly just phase around stuff. I don't think I've ever permanently latched onto a pair, it's just that I've had fandoms and I have pairs that I've ended up liking in them and they just sort of stay that way even if stop paying attention to the fandom. I like most ships that happens to fit into my favorite criteria (that being protagonist/morally ambiguous deuteragonist or antagonist). if you asked me what my favorite series is, it would be an easier question. it's zelda. but I don't really have any permanent favorite ships in zelda.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

this is a scary question because I have a number of major wips that I want to get back into once I get back into writing and I refuse to accept that they may not get finished. I don't know. moose hill? for a little while I wanted to see if I could come up with a whole side story, but it is extremely unlikely that will happen. maybe a better example is a continuation of shuichi and kage's blackout adventure, which is pretty low on the priority list for if my brain every gets infected by danganronpa again.

15. What are your writing strengths?

the jokes are very important. I put my heart and soul into them. I hope that people can see my vision when I tell them.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

actually doing the writing getting from point A to point B. I come up with this whole outline and realize there's 2000 words of empty space that needs to happen. and it's like dull shit, too. just plain old events. like look at them, it's the lunching hours again. because lunch is a thing that happens every day. is it redundant to have lunch too many times? it can't possibly! it's the only time they can talk to each other! do I need to pan the camera again because this 3 sentence exchange has dragged on for too long? help

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

makes sense to me. or like, depends on the context. if the POV is a character who can speak the language, the reader should probably get to know what they're saying (think like, subtitled sections of a movie), unless it's really easy to decipher. but if the POV can't understand it, the reader shouldn't necessarily know. it gets more complicated if it takes place in a setting where they should logically be speaking a language that is not english for example. like, if they're in a country where they are not speaking english but the fic is in english. it wouldn't really make sense to insert interjections in their home language because they're not speaking english in the first place. I guess it all depends on what you're trying to convey.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

sonic. does it count. I started writing once I was old enough to type. but I think the first story I ever put online was zelda.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

on occasion I entertain the idea of writing for corpse party, but that's probably not going to happen.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I'm going to not include that one anonymous fic and my pile of unfinished longfic wips that I've been proud of in past years is way too big so… maybe game over?? it's complicated. I have a ton of comedy pieces that I love but they're just… not completed!!

[ feel free to fill this out yourself if you're a fic writer! ]

[the-lark-ascending69]

Near-future, black mirror esque AU in which Nancy, stressed college student with loads of childhood trauma, gets recommended by her psychologist to get an emotional support robot. That's what they're called, yes. They're sold to very lonely people to pretty much look after them emotionally. Nancy has always hated the idea, and doesn't really like androids or robots of any kind. Plus, she thinks it's quite sad that she's so lonely she needs an android to keep her company. She also couldn't possibly afford it.

Her friend Steve, though, who hasn't seen her in a year despite living 15 minutes away (she has a tendency to isolate herself and use her studies as an excuse), got her one. It's a second-hand unit, a slightly older model that's seen several repair shops in the past, but it works, and it was half the price of a new one. He shows up to her apartment with the box, looking smug and proud of himself. If anything, Nancy feels insulted.

She doesn't touch the box for a few weeks, and doesn't get rid of it either, because her studies take her so much time, she can't bring herself to keep her apartment clean. When her mother visits and sees the mess she's living in, with a perfectly functional android willing to help her, she finally caves, and as soon as she's alone, she decides to see if this thing can at least help her clean up.

It surprises her that it looks so... human. Its skin is soft and warm, with all the natural imperfections of a human's skin. Same as her hair. She's dressed in old worn-out clothes, and she curls into herself, in fetal position, inside the box. Only the button under her skin on the back of her neck reveals her as an android. Nancy reads the instructions, presses there for 10 seconds, and waits.

Or she planned to wait - eight seconds in with Nancy's fingers pressed on that spot, and the android's eyes flew open. She cried out, screambled out of the box and looked around, breathing heavily and hugging herself. Her eyes fix on Nancy, look her up and down with a frown, and asks:

"Who are you?"

Nancy opens her mouth to reply, then looks down at the instructions, hoping they'd say something about this kind of scenario, and that her new robot didn't go rogue and try to kill her.

"Wait, are those my instructions?" The robot asked. She looked down. "I really don't mean to complain about my living situation going from extremely fucked to simply fucked, but that is not my original box. Mine was smaller, and it had a bunch of little dots on the side. Did they sell me again?"

The instructions said nothing about this possibility, so Nancy decided it was time to improvise.

"I... my friend got you at a garage sale, I think."

"Oh. Well, that is low, even for me," the robot said. She rubbed the back of her neck. "Should my neck hurt this much?"

Nancy blinked.

"Shouldn't you know that?"

"Honestly, I don't even know what levels of pain are normal for me. It always hurts just a little bit somewhere, like, right now, my whole spine really hurts." She laughs. "At least I think it's supposed to feel like pain? I don't think we're wired to feel pain, exactly, I mean, that would be just sadistic. Talk anti-natalism to me. But I swear this spot right here just feels really really bad. Or maybe it's anthropocentric to... perceive it as pain, don't you think? It's very existentialist, actually, the whole... perceiving thing - I bet Berkeley wrote something about it, at some point, but I haven't read him in ages."

"You read books?"

"What? Oh. Oh, uh... I - I think I'm offline? Like, I don't have access to the database, so I kinda have to do it the old-fashioned way if I want to learn somethin," she said. "It's cool, though! I like reading a lot."

"...Okay. So, um... here it says your model is..."

"Robin," the android said. Nancy looked up.

"I'm sorry?"

"That's my name," she said. "I came up with it, I - I thought it sounded nice. Do you like it?"

Nancy stared at this... thing, a million thoughs coursing through her head. The first one was a newfound understanding of her low price.

She made a movement with her head that could be understood as both a shake and a nod at the same time.

"Yeah, yeah, sure" she said, brows knit together. What the hell did Steve get her into? "It's... nice."

"Oh, thank God, because Mom and Dad hated it."

"Mom and...?"

"My first owners - Richard and Melissa, I always called them Mom and Dad. They... they, uh, they hated that, too."

Jesus Christ.

"So... Robin," Nancy said. "I was wondering if you could help me put away some of my things while I study."

"Oh! Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure." She stood there, eyes wandering, around, until they fell on Nancy's bookshelf "Holy shit, you have Dostoyevski! Is it in Russian?"

Nancy blinked, opened her mouth, took a step back and shook her head. Robin was already striding towards her bookself, tracing the spines of books with her fingers.

"Actually, why don't you read after you clean this up?"

Robin turned to see her, eyes wide and a growing smile, like a kid in a candy shop.

"I - I can read all of this?"

Nancy was going to kill Steve.

She shrugged and shook her head.

"Sure," she said. "After you clean this mess."

"Aye aye, cap!" Robin chirped, making a quick salute with her hand and getting to work.

Nancy was, for certain, going to murder Steve for making her responsible for this... thing. There was something wrong in her system, and that was very much obvious. She looked down at the instructions manual - surely there would be a way to turn her off for the night. She wouldn't want Robin to murder her in her sleep, or worse - wake her up at 4 am to talk about books.

Or she could just tell her to shut up. She was a robot, anyway. It's not like she could feel anything.

[yoyomomiko]

Friends with a secret

CHAPTER 4 - (💖)

Craig Tucker x F!reader

Summary: When you and your mother move into South Park, you expect everything to be horrible. Luckily, you find comfort in your new friend group. Despite their warnings about Craig Tucker and his gang, you still managed to befriend the boy. But, there's something more to it, and you're not sure how much longer you can keep it as a secret, or how much longer you can keep it away from your friend, Craig.

(A/N): I finally finished writing this chapter it took sooo long ^⁠_⁠^ For some reason the end is rushed, and this chapter is actually very cringe (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠) + English isn't my first language!!

WORDS: 2.5k+

< CHAPTER 3 — CHAPTER 5 > (uncompleted)

To your horror, Kyle found out you were talking with Craig. You had to expect it, I mean he's your neighbor, and the fact that you walked home with Craig didn't help at all. Cartman was glad, saying things about how he can't wait to throw you out the friend group, to wich the rest dismissed instantly.

"I told you guys, chicks just aren't fit for us." Cartman spoke again, putting his hands up in defense. Stan groaned at his stupid words, shaking his head in disapproval. They all wanted to keep you away from Craig, they were sure he was a bad influence on you. "That's pretty gay." Kenny's words were muffled as he sighed at him as well.

While they were all bickering, Kyle couldn't find out why you were hanging out with him out of all people. Sure, he couldn't control who you liked or who you befriended, and he certainly didn't want to do that, but why him out of all the other kids? Craig hated them, and usually tried humiliating them, that's one of the main reasons Stan, Kenny, Kyle and Cartman had the same feelings for the 'annoying' boy. Kyle surely had to talk to you, he just had to wait for you to sit down at their table again.

You showed up, the grip on your tray tightening as you saw their disappointed faces. You raised a brow as you slowly sat down, examining them one by one. Except Cartman, you'd probably vomit if you looked at him for too long. You weren't sure why they looked at you that way. Your hand quickly came up to your mouth, wiping the corners, thinking that maybe you had something on your face. But that wasn't the problem at all.

"So, Y/N, it has come to our observation that you're talking with Craig?" Stan inquired, his fingers interwining together as he held his elbows up on the table, acting like a boss hiring his employee. You couldn't lie, not to them, so you came clean and told the truth about yesterday.

"Well maybe it's because some jerks decided to leave me all alone and walk home without me. So then Craig just simply came up to me, since apparently we live in the same direction." You argued honestly, crossing your arms over your chest, a little upset. Stan's brows raised and he glanced towards Kyle, who was already looking at him.

"Oh, yeah. We forgot about that..." Stan spoke up, voice barely above a whisper. Kyle nodded, gazing towards you, his lips forming a thin line. "Yeah, uh, we were rushing home, we wanted to just get done with our homework, and play some games..." Kyle answered, looking to the side to avoid eye contact. Stan nodded quickly. "You took too long- OW dude what the heck dude?" Stan added, but was cut off by Kyle stomping on his foot under the table, all the while the ginger boy was forcing a smile.

"Listen, I don't get what's so bad about him." You gained their attention back. You leaned on the table, cheek on one of your palms. "He's nice, nothing like how you guys described him." You continued, thinking back to yesterday with a small smile you didn't even know you had. Cartman scoffed at that, rolling his eyes.

"He's been trying to embarrass us for God knows how long!" Stan spoke up, very confused and a little frustrated you didn't agree with them. "Yeah, told you guys, we shouldn't waste our time on her." Cartman tried to reason with them, but Kenny quickly nudged his shoulder to shut up, wich Cartman clearly didn't appreciate.

You didn't want to hear all of their stupid bickering, so you sighed and stood up, picking up your tray and leaving off to Bebe's and Wendy's lunch table. You decided it would be better to spend more time with girls, since the boys clearly weren't a better option. Atleast not Stan and the rest.

You sat down with them, eating and talking. While you were talking, you would often turn your gaze towards Craig's table, only for a split second so nobody would notice. Except one of them did, and it was Craig himself. The moment you turned around to look towards him, you were met with his own eyes, staring back at you. Your lips slowly parted in shock, raising your brows, a little embarrassed at being caught staring at him. Craig looked at you, up and down, before flipping you off and continuing to talk with his own friends.

"Hello, Earth to Y/N?" Bebe waved her hand in front of your face, snapping you away from your daze. You shook your head quickly, turning back to them, dropping the smile you didn't even know you held. You glanced towards Bebe.

"Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking." You defended yourself, shaking your head softly again. You continued eating, meanwhile Wendy smirked, eyeing you up and down, before going back to talking and eating as well. You felt a little embarrassed, but that quickly passed by.

-----------------

You were over at Kyle's house, along with Stan. The three of you quickly finished your homework, and then jumped straight to video games. You were glad you had people to kill the time with, since your mother wasn't home most of the time. It seemed that they forgot all about Craig, or maybe they just chose to ignore it so they don't make you upset.

Some time around 6 PM, you went back home and so did Stan. You entered your house, taking off your jacket and throwing it on the couch. You plopped down on the kitchen chair. You were glad Kyle's mom made dinner, and suggested you and Stan sat down to eat with them because she accidentally made extra dinner. Your mom wasn't home yet, it'll probably be another hour until she comes back, so you didn't really have much to do. Your bedtime was in about four to five hours, so what else could you do?

Your friends... They didn't call you. They promised, but they never did. Not even once, and it's already been past a whole week. Maybe they forgot to do so, or they were busy. Or maybe they forgot about you. If they didn't call you, you could surely call them, couldn't you? Yes, that's it, that's what you had to do! Hopefully they'll answer. I mean, they surely will, won't they?

You rushed to the phone that was in the living room, dialing your bestest friend's number. You waited impatiently, the phone ringing in your ear. After a few seconds, it cut to voicemail. You pursed your lips, head tilting down as you narrowed your eyes. Maybe she was busy... You pondered about leaving a voicemail, but you decided not to. You went to the next friend, and the next, and then the next... All to no avail. None of them responded. They couldn't all be busy, could they? Did they not want to see you again? Were they glad that you left?

It's been about half an hour of you trying to contact all of your friends, but none of them answered. Not even one. Maybe it was late, wasn't it? But it was only 6 PM! Maybe they did hate you, didn't they? You had to guess, if you were honest, they never really liked you, did they? They didn't invite you to their stupid sleepovers, trying to find excuses about how there's too many girls, or how their parents don't allow them. They always tried pushing you away, didn't they? You had it coming. You ignored all of that, stupidly believing them, trying to reassure yourself that they did in fact care. But you knew they didn't. You knew they didn't care at all.

Just then, you heard a knock on your door, making you flinch at the three consecutive knocks. You whipped your head around, looking towards the front door. Was it Kyle? Maybe you forgot something back at his place. Or was it your mother? Maybe you accidentally locked the door. You walked towards the door, slowly turning the doorknob. It wasn't locked. Then it must've been Kyle. You opened it wider, only to be met with that familiar face.

"Craig?" Your eyes shot wide, definetly not expecting him to show up at your door. You raised a brow once you made sure it was all real, looking at him, a little skeptical about all this. Craig looked unbothered, his eyes scanning the furniture behind you, before turning his gaze back to you.

"Hey." He simply said, shrugging his shoulders. "What are you doing here?" You asked, visibly confused. "Did you do your homework?" He questioned, and you were wondering why he even asked that. "Yeah, I did it with Kyle and Stan." You shrug your shoulders. It was so weird! Why did he just come here if all he wanted to do was ask if you did your homework!

He narrowed his eyes a bit at the mention of the names. "Oh, right, your friends." He closed his eyes for a second, before staring at you again. "Then that means I can copy your homework, right?" He requested, to wich you raised your eyebrows. "That's why you came all the way over here? To ask me that? Couldn't you do it at school?" You squinted your eyes at him, wich earned a groan from his lips.

"Just say no if you don't wanna help me out." He spoke up, and you nodded. "I never said I didn't want to." You glanced away. Gosh, this was awkward...

"Come in, my mom's gonna be here in about half an hour." You informed him, all while he walked in. This was so weird, embarrassing even. Craig Tucker was in your house. He just came there to copy your homework? Couldn't he go with that guy, what was his name, Clyde? He just chose you out of all people? You didn't mind having him over, and surely your mother wouldn't either, but you had to admit that it was pretty weird. Were you dreaming? No, no way. This wasn't a dream. Why did he even come this late?

"So are you just gonna stand there or what?" Craig snapped you back to reality and away from your thoughts. You quickly nodded and rushed to get your homework, setting it on the kitchen table and motioning for him to come take a seat, wich he did. He pulled out his notebook and started copying what you've written down, completely ignoring you. Was he using you?

"Why did you come here?" You asked, earning a sigh from him. "I thought maybe we could do our homework together, but you did it with the twinks." You were even more confused now. "Why do you wanna do it with me?" You asked, leaning closer to him. Craig leaned back in his seat, eyes narrowing. "Because I thought we were friends?" He replied hesitantly, glancing to the side.

Your eyes shot wide, but quickly snapped back to reality. "You... Really wanna be my friend?" You asked, not expecting him to actually just offer himself like that. He nodded with a raised brow. "Aren't we already friends?" He questioned, the same monotone voice. "We are?"

He closed his eyes, head leaning back as he groaned before chuckling. The sound was adorable, you had to admit. "Well now we are." He replied, looking at you. You nodded, the corners of your lips tugging upwards.

"That had to be the awkwardest moment of my entire life." You admited, mumbling, softly placing your head over your arms, wich were resting on the kitchen table. Craig nodded, continuing to write and copy off your homework, changing some stuff here and there. "Trust me, I've had worse." He muttered, focused more on writing.

-----------------

Craig had left before your mother came home, and he rushed back to his own house. You just stayed up watching TV until 10 PM, when your mother told you that you should get ready for bed.

That's all you remember from yesterday.

Right now you were over at Stan's house. School had already passed, and the guys asked you to hang out, wich you quickly agreed to. You had done your homework along with Craig earlier, and luckily you weren't given much work to do, since some of your teachers felt bad to do so in the very first week of school. Surprisingly, Craig was smart. He ended up helping you a lot more than you did yesterday.

Enough about Craig... You were thinking about him too much.

The five of you were playing some stupid board game in wich you were clearly losing. You didn't pay much attention to it, it didn't enlighten you, you only agreed to playing with them because Stan practically begged you to.

"I win!" Kenny's muffled voice made you turn to him. Stan scoffed, shaking his head. "No way dude, you cheated!" He quickly pointed out, to wich Kenny crossed his arms. "Not my fault you don't know how to play." Kenny spoke, wich of course, came out in more muffles. You had a hard time understanding what he said at first, but now it's way easier. "Okay guys, calm down." Kyle tried removing the humorous "tension" between the two. "Shut the fuck up Kahl Kenny cheated and he knows it." Cartman spoke up, his voice ringing in your ears, more like scratching your brain.

"Listen, why's Craig so bad?" You suddenly asked, all eyes on you. "Because, dipshit." Cartman rolled his eyes at you. "He's always trying to humiliate us." Stan replied, his brows narrowing. "And that's that?" You asked, raising a brow. "I've never seen him even try! That's just... Stupid!" You continued, glancing at the board and making up gestures with your hands. "You just didn't see him do it yet, but trust me-" "He's nice! Never did I see him- I don't know..." You trailed off, not wanting to argue. Kyle nodded his head. "Yeah, Y/N's right..." He started, earning a dramatic gasp from Cartman. "He hasn't done anything to us by now, so why can't we just... Forget the past?" Kyle continued, glancing towards you.

"You're even crazier Kahl, what the FUCK is wrong with you? I'm telling you, Y/N is a bad influence on you-" Cartman responded to Kyle, eyes wide. "No, I'm being for real!" Kyle continued. "What's so bad about... Apologizing for all the shit we've put him through in the past? Maybe he'll also apologize-" "No way dude!" Stan cut him off. Kenny was just watching, staring in shock.

"Come on, just a chance!" You begged, holding your hands together, interwined. Stan contemplated, thinking for a few seconds. "Fine..." He finally gave in, to wich Kenny finally nodded and gave a thumbs up. Cartman wasn't too happy about it, he didn't like apologizing. He probably won't, but it's not like you care about what he does.

Finally, you could hang out with all of them without rivalry in between.

★yoyomiko ★miko

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Shed

Perhaps a Janus shedding fic? Idk with who, but maybe with him getting some scratches on itchy scales, from whoever is helping him through it, especially after scratching wayyyy too hard himself. Even better if he’s shedding because Thomas is going through a change, so he’s never actually done it before :) so he doesn’t know what’s happening :) – cherry-sofa-756

Okay, so. You are hands-down one of the best Sanders Sides fic writers out there and I will die on this hill. I will die on this hill and take everyone down with me. Anyway. Dramatic declarations aside (heh), I was wondering if I could make a request? I know this has been done before, but a fic where telling the truth actually hurts Janus, but he does it anyway because [insert one of several reasons here]? You just do Janus angst so well (you do everyone so well, how are you this good, how do you exist, can I tuck you into my pocket for safekeeping and appreciation) and I am honestly excited whenever I get a notification from you, so I figured why not ask? No pressure, though. I wish you all the best, may your ideas flow endlessly as you wish them, my friend! - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: shedding and body descriptions therein

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 2347

    It starts as auspiciously as it could have, he supposes, with a slight twinge of pain on the inside of his glove.

"Hey, Janus, do you remember what the consensus was of cinnamon versus blueberry?"

"Blueberry."

"Oh, great, thanks. Is the good baking tray over there?"

When Janus doesn't say anything, Patton glances up only to see him staring at his hand.

"Uh, Janus? You okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, I just—mmph."

"You sure? You don't sound okay. Is something the matter?"

Janus looks at his hand for a moment longer before shaking himself and smiling at Patton. "Yes, I'm quite alright. You wanted this tray, correct?"

Patton gives him a strange look but doesn't push, taking the tray and continuing to gather the ingredients they need.

Later, back in the safety of his own room, Janus hisses as he carefully peels his glove from his left hand, wincing as it tugs and sticks in all the ways it shouldn't. When the last of the fabric is gone and he can see his hand properly, it's a curse he hisses between his teeth.

He's shedding.

"Of course I am," he spits, reaching for his first-aid kit tucked on top of his desk, "of course, can't just be a snake in the abstract and metaphorical way, no, I need to be a snake literally too, hmm? Have to molt and shed and hissssss…"

He takes out a tube of ointment and opens it, wincing at the crack of the scales on his hand.

"Sure. Why not?"

Getting a little bit of the ointment on the very tip of his finger, he starts to smooth it over the cracked and peeling scales only to stifle a cry of pain when it burns, leaping up from his desk and rushing to the bathroom to wash it off. He shoves his hand under the cold water and scrubs, almost chewing a hole through his lower lip as the pain flares bright and sharp up his arm.

"And of course, I don't have anything that would actually be useful," he grunts as he finally gets the pain to stop, "why would things I have already be helpful? That would be easy, and god forbid things be easy for me."

Alright. So no ointment. Shit, what do snakes do when they shed?

He could ask Logan, although Logan would want to know how he's feeling, what the scales are reacting like—would want to examine him to determine what snake he resembles the most, would want to see how much of him is covered in scales, because Logan is always curious.

He could ask Remus, but Remus might not understand that Janus wants this to be, well, as painless as possible, that he wants to just have a little bit of help and not find out what happens just for the fuck of it.

He could ask Virgil, who is the only one who might know what this is like with his molting cycle or whatever, but…

But trying to ask Virgil for a favor now, especially after all they've been through, seems like rubbing salt into an open wound.

Or rubbing that goddamn ointment over shedding scales.

"So," he grunts, sitting back down at his desk, cradling his hand in his lap, "the Internet it is."

He finds a dubious-looking article that says to try and keep the snake's environment moist and humid, suggesting paper towels and a plant-mister to keep the humidity levels high. Warm water…orchid bark substrate…and oh, not to forget that a snake's scales will become duller in appearance and their eyes will go all cloudy and blue before they really start shedding.

Great. Just great.

He looks back down at his hand, which is already starting to look dull.

"This is going to be fun."

****

The extra fun thing about it is that it seems that telling the truth makes it worse.

Try to tell Patton that yes, he'd like another cup of tea? Burning on the inside of his glove.

Try to tell Logan that no, he's not being ridiculous with his new paper idea? Side of his face itches like crazy.

Try to tell Remus that he needs to calm down and start trying to clean up? His clothes hate him now, actually.

Try to tell Virgil that everything's alright, that he can work out of the spiral he's in? No legs for him, he has to sit down and not move until his scales settle down.

Try to tell Roman that he cares?

More like try not to jump at the sight of his reflection in the mirror, one eye clouded and blue and almost blind.

The good news—if you can even call something good news in a time like this—is that he's forced to lie to keep up appearances for when the others start asking questions, which at least staves off the very worst of it in public. But when he hides in his room at night, he has to wince and tremble as he peels his clothes off of himself and clambers into a bath that is either too cold or too hot, trying to help the shedding go faster.

This hurts. This really fucking hurts.

Shit, how often does he have to do this?

He crawls out of the bath and dries himself gingerly on a towel, crawling into bed and curling up into a little ball. He closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep, tries to get away from the terrible itching sensitivity that's starting to break out across his scales. If he can just weather this until it's over, he can figure out what to do next time and make sure he does it. If he can just fall asleep…

He lies awake for hours that night, fighting the urge to toss and turn to get some relief on his itching scales and fighting the urge to cry out at every rasp of fabric against his oversensitive skin.

The others are starting to get worried. He managed to plead off the issue with his eye by pretending it was a colored contact from Remus when Virgil cornered him about it, but he knows sooner or later Virgil's going to go confirm that with Remus himself and discover that it was a lie. He's got to figure out something before they all bust down his door, demanding to know what's going on.

"I'm fine," he chants in the sheets, "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine…"

It's the only way he's able to get to sleep that night, because the lies make the pain a little bit easier to bear.

****

Of course, no lie lasts forever, and Janus wakes up in a dizzying blur of sensation, body on fire and eyes clouded over, twitching and groaning in pain as his scales do their very best to rid themselves of his body. A cry traps itself in his throat, his eyes welling up with furious tears as he tries in vain to find some comfort on the blankets that feel more like hot coals.

It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

No sooner does the pain swallow his senses does he feel the tug of two Sides appearing in his room.

"J? J, I felt that, are you—holy shit."

"Oh, Snakey, you're an idiot."

"Now is not the fucking time, Remus, go go go!"

"Alright, alright, I'm going."

"Hey, J," Virgil's voice says, muffled through layers and layers of cotton, "hey, hey, it's okay. We're here now, we're gonna help you."

Help? How in the fuck are you gonna help me with this?

"Don't worry," he continues when all Janus can do is groan in pain, "I'm sure whatever quip you were trying to make was a winner."

Thank you.

"C'mon," Remus's voice says from a ways away, "I got the door open, bring him through. The cot's still in the spare greenhouse, we can put him there."

"Ready? One, two, three, up we go."

He's hoisted as gently as possible into two strong arms and carried like a babe through to somewhere warm and sweet-smelling. A confused moan leaves his mouth as he's laid to rest on something soft, a gentle breeze following him.

"We need to get your clothes off you, Snakey," comes Remus's voice, "they're only gonna hurt you. It's okay, it's just us."

Hands, gentle hands free him from the worst of his clothing, leaving his boxers to protect what little modesty he has left. When the slightly humid air touches his scales he could whimper from relief. Then there's something soothing and wet pressed against the scaled side of his face and he blinks awake, only able to make out fuzzy shapes as he turns his head.

"Shh, shh, lie still," Remus bids—Virgil must be the one holding the thing to his face— "we gotta get you in a bath, okay? You've started shedding in pieces, we gotta help make sure you get all of it off, okay?"

"R'mus?"

"Yeah, Snakey, it's me. Virgil's here too."

"Hey, J. Long time no see. Oh, shit, uh, I mean—"

A small laugh works its way through Janus's throat and Virgil chuckles.

"Swear that wasn't intentional." He leans down too and oh, there's the blurry Virgil. "Do you think it's okay for us to move you? There's a warm bath over there that'll help loosen up the process for you, okay?"

"Hurts."

"I know, bud, it's gonna hurt for a little bit until we can get you calmed down."

"Why?"

"Blame it on biology if you want. Stress makes the shedding process harder."

"That's stupid."

"Yes, yes, it is. Unfortunately still true."

Janus grunts and leans into Virgil's touch. Remus carefully cards his hair back from his face. "You okay to let us move you, Snakey?"

"Mm."

"Up we go," Virgil says again, carefully lifting him up to carry him across the greenhouse and set him down in a large basin of warm water. "Can we help wash you?"

"Mhm." He turns his nose into the crook of Virgil's neck, breathing in softly. "Smells good."

"What, me or the greenhouse?"

"Both."

Remus chuckles. "That's good to hear. C'mere, give me your arm…"

There's something terribly intimate about letting someone else bathe you. Remus's hands are gentle as they work over the smooth scales—well, less smooth now—and rinse the beginnings of shed skin free from his body. On the other side, Virgil carefully does the same to the scaled parts of his torso, careful to avoid any red and angry bits as Janus begins to drift under the sensation of it.

"You're doing real good, bud," Virgil murmurs, "really good. We're almost there."

"Can we wash your hair," Remus asks, "we'll bring another basin over so the shampoo won't get near your scales, but it might feel nice to not be all greasy anymore."

"Just be careful?"

"Of course." Virgil gets up and he laments the loss for a moment, but then Virgil's sitting behind his head and smiling down at him. "Hey, bud. You wanna let me wash your hair?"

"Mhm."

What kind of greenhouse is this, he finds himself wondering as Virgil starts to spray his hair with a faucet, and why is Virgil so good at this?

Then Virgil starts to work his fingers through Janus's hair and there goes his capacity for higher thinking. If he could be slightly more aware, he might be embarrassed of the noises leaving his mouth, but as of right now he's just going to enjoy not being first and foremost in pain. The shampoo Virgil's using smells really good, not too strong, and leaves a pleasant cooling effect on his scalp even after it's been rinsed out. Remus's hands are sure and gentle as they finish cleaning the last of his scales, sitting back and running a damp hand through his own hair.

"Let's have you soak for a little longer," he says quietly, "then we'll get you out and see what else you need, okay?"

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Remus levels a stare at him. "Just come to us next time, yeah?"

Janus shifts a bit sheepishly under the look. "…yeah, okay."

"Good."

"You look sleepy," Virgil murmurs, still working the conditioner through his hair, "if you wanna doze off, that's okay. We'll wake you up when we need to move you."

"…yeah?"

"Yeah, bud, go on. It's okay, we're right here."

And so he closes his eyes, drifting off to the feeling of Virgil's hands in his hair and warm water lapping against his scales.

Maybe…maybe he needn't have been so scared about asking them for help.

Perhaps the worst of it truly is behind him, because the truth doesn't hurt as the warmth and safety lull him to sleep.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @ultrageekygirl

[pepsi-maxwell]

more wrestle derby au, featuring matt jackson inviting wardlow to go park skating (euphemistically ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) with him because like i said, indulgent aus are for crack ships, i rest my case.

rating: g

wordcount: ~1000

---

"Oh god my body's broken-"

"-think my bruises have bruises-"

"-how long until the next jam? Please say we're up against the Best Friends, some easy team, for the love of-"

Matt's mostly tuned out everyone's complaints as they skate off the track. He's pretty sore himself; fell right on top of Kyle's wheels at one point so he's limping a little, gonna have one hell of a purple shin, but he managed to do some good offense against Cash, created a path for Adam to get through, so he's happy with that.

And sure, they still lost abysmally, but now that they've gone up against the Pinnacle and the House of Black, they've pretty much covered all of the really heavy hitters, which means the next few rounds should be less intense.

"Uh. Hey. You got a minute?"

He pivots smoothly on his back wheels, all those freestyle skate sessions coming in handy. Comes face to face with the big guy himself. Wardog. Alone. The rest of his team are over by their bench on the other side of the hall, including their pissy looking captain, finally out of the sin-bin. Which makes this capital-i Interesting, and very much worthy of his attention.

"Just wanted to say, good game, and... hope I didn't bump you too hard out there?" he says, holding out his palm tentatively.

He wants to hate him for how impeccable he looks, like he's barely broke a sweat, whereas Matt feels (and probably smells) like he's been dumped in the Everglades, but. Honestly, he looks like a big puppy dog, just... so earnest, and he can't be mean to a face like that.

So he bumps the plastic of their wristguards together in a facsimile of a high five. "Nothing bruised but my pride," he says cheerfully, if only because he can see Kyle glaring at him, probably for fraternising with the 'enemy', like that even matters outside a jam. "There was no stopping you out there! Even if I'd got lower to block, you could have just stepped right over me."

And, hmm.

Isn't that an interesting thought.

Wardog rubs his helmet, looking somewhat embarrassed. "I mean, you got some good offense in, and your form was really good-"

"-oh yeah, I do so many squats off-skates, you wouldn't believe," he agrees, preening slightly because it's true! His form is perfect, and it's good that someone notices! "But still, you're, like, unstoppable as a jammer! You know, you should really do it more often."

He really shouldn't be putting ideas in the guy's head; trying to block him in a single jam had been bad enough. At least the Pinnacle's usual jammer is a similar size to the rest of Matt's team and easier to hold in place. Even if he is a filthy, filthy cheater who plays dirtier than the Elite at their absolute worst.

But still. There's something about this guy that has him wanting to return the compliment. He just seems so... nice. And big. And a little hot, maybe? Hard to tell with the mouth guard and the helmet, but he's gotten good at judging attractiveness under people's gear, so.

"Honestly?" he says, like he's imparting some deep, well-hidden secret. "I hate jamming. Too much endurance. I'm much better at doing offense, or stopping someone else." Matt wonders how much of that's actually truth, and how much is Mr Penalty Box not wanting to share the limelight.

And he could make a dirty remark about endurance, but Wardog's just lapped the Elite about six times with ease, so it'd be more an insult to himself. "Huh. Can't relate!" Is what he says instead, because he genuinely can't; doesn't understand how someone wouldn't enjoy sailing past the opposing team like the biggest, most smug asshole on on the planet. So much fun. If Matt was Wardog's size, with that much agility, he'd jam full time. Maybe even the national team, dude's wasted at a regional Sur5al tournament.

They're interrupted by the Chairman calling out Wardog's name, his real one, probably to talk strategy for whoever they're up against next, and Matt decides to make his most impulsive decision of the day (so far).

"Hey, do you park skate?" he asks, already having an idea of the answer because he's pretty sure he's seen this guy before at his local bowl. One of the benefits of regional tournaments, at least, everyone's pretty local. Follows up Wardog's nod of confirmation with, "Cool! I'm on the social media page for the tournament; look for Matt Jackson, you'll know it's me. Hit me up and we should totally go skate sometime!"

"Uh. Yeah. Yeah, I'll. Definitely do that. Listen, I should head back to my team, but I'll... send you a message?" he says, with the tiniest pink tinge to his cheeks that says he actually will, and honestly, he's way cuter than he has any right to be, which means there's a decent chance that Matt's going to message him first.

To skate.

Definitely.

Just skating. Nothing else.

He watches him cross the empty track, eyes on one very specific spot as Nick ploughs to a stop beside him.

"Matt, I swear to god, you better not be hitting on the guy whose team just tore us a new one-"

He shouldn't go for it. It's the most obvious thing he could say but it's also going to annoy the hell out of Nick, so he can't not. Smirks and says, "Oh, he can tear me a new one any time."

"One of these days, I am going to kill you so hard-"

Matt rolls his eyes and pushes off with a toe stop. "Yeah, yeah, just save it for when Kenny's back. You still need me for the tournament."

Grabs the helmet cover with the star for their next match up, making the unanimous decision to play jammer because he's got someone to show off to now, and by god he is going to shine.

---

fun fact helmet covers used to be called panties because of course they were 🙃

[withoneheadlight]

ok i saw this cap of zoë kravitz in hf and she's got such a dreamy expression, she looks so deeply self-absorbed and infatuated by whatever she's imagining and those lines. and i couldn't stop picturing billy exactly like that for days so,

,

There’s a pretty unusual sound coming off the house when Max comes back home, that summer afternoon.

Full volume. Walls shaking. And she quietly walks to the source of the sound, holding back her breath right in front of Billy's room because, there's this second sound? Stranger and way more unsettling and Max's not sure-sure at first but then Steve Perry’s voice takes off and Billy’s follows it and then he's like, singing along and. Well. Max did know Billy liked Journey but not like, their 'stuff for pussies' but uhm, he does, apparently. Rasps his voice all the way through ‘Faithfully’. Kind of, sighs. Longingly? When it ends? But pfff, ok, big brothers are weird. Definitely weirder after being possessed and then kind of resurrected. Even if it's in a good-weird way but, whatever. So Max's just about to sneak to her room, dutifully rolling her eyes, steps muffled by the first chords of 'Edge of the blade' when―

Click. Click. Billy stops the tape. Click. Takes it out. Tap. Tap. Click. Puts on― Billy puts. On,

Heaven.

Bryan Adams’ Heaven.

And Max―

Being a younger sister is a meticulous kind of full-time, private detective job. You gotta learn how the person you’ve been watching so carefully for years and years works. Hafta develop some sort of―sense about your target. And Billy’s been—un-Billy-like? These past two months. Smiling more. Telling more jokes. Playing ‘You shook me all night long’ in a loop on their drive to school and back, not complaining at all but even joining when’s Max who can’t help but sing along so.

So. She retraces her steps. Knocks. Takes the distracted grunt she gets as a ‘Yeahyeah, c’mon in c’mon in’ and,

Creak. Creak. ‘―baby you’re all that I want’

“Billy?”

Billy’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. Radio close to his knees. Cassettes scattered everywhere. Piles and piles of breakwater surrounding Billy’s old, rusty beacon of sound. He’s reading through the song-list of one of the tapes, a smoke locked on the corner of his mouth, bouncing up and down with every little, absent suck he takes, and he looks. He looks―

Self-absorbed and even. Relaxed. Happy. Like whatever he’s thinking about right now is actually carrying his thoughts away to fucking heaven.

“Ehh”

“Uh-hu?”

‘When you’re lying here in my arms!’

“Billy are you. What―” ‘I'm findin' it hard to believe. We're in heaven’ “What are you doing?”

But there’s this orbit around the sun and then there’s whatever one Billy's been spinning along with the last couple of months so he completely ignores her question. Shakes the tape on his left hand. Picks another one from the pile on his right. Asks her.

“Is Billy Ocean too much? ‘Cause I think it’s too much. But it kind of fits into what I'm trying to say so” he says, shrugs, looking up at Max and waiting for the answer of what she realizes was not really a question. Not at all. So she does her little sister job and just, nods “Right. That’s good. I think it’ll slide just nicely into Bruce Springsteen and―”

“Billy” Max insists, waiting for the charm of the third time to work. It doesn’t. Not really. But keeps Billy's eyes on her long enough to squeeze an “A mixtape?” And, uh. That’s what gets it on. The charm “Are you making a mixtape?”

“Uh?”

And it’s like Max just shook Billy out of a daydream. Ash plopping down from his cigarette as his lips try but can’t purse and Max― she’s good. She’s stellar at this detective thing. Recognizes an opening the moment she sees it, right there in front of her, frozen in the middle of shaking Billy Ocean and Bruce Springsteen in the air right before cocktailing them together. Shaken, not stirred, please. Max’s upgraded to James Bond-level just right now.

“You’re making a mixtape for someone”

“Oh-nonoMaxi―”

“But you didn’t have those tapes before. Not even in your secret stash”

“How do yo―?”

“Holy. ShIT. You’ve been listening to somebody else’s music” This is. Oh, God. This. Is. GOLD. Max gotta take a moment. Blink. Breathe. Process. Her hands move by themselves, palms spread toward Billy in a wait-a-minute kind of gesture except. Max’s gonna need way more than a minute for this “You’ve accepted a music recommendation”

“Maaaaax”

“Gosh, you’ve even listened to the tapes enough to. Make―”

“Max!”

“I just can’t believe it”

And Max was glad. Well. As glad as one can be. Bunch weeks ago. Her mom and Neil out for the day. Coming back home a little earlier than she usually does to hear those ugh. Those other noises. Happy screams. Again. After months and months of Billy being basically alone except for her and the party and Steve. And Max’s so glad, of course she is. But she’s also a little sister. And all this investigation work has a high, rightful purpose.

Make her big brother’s life a living. Hell.

“Oh my god, you must be so gone!” Max brings her hands to her mouth. Takes a deep, deep breath that’s more a poorly restrained giggle. Shoots her index at him “Is it Bon Jovi? What I’m seeing right there? Goddam, Billy are you in lo―”

Bam.

Bam. Bam!

The front door.

What a way to spoil the fun. Max doesn’t have time for this. She’s working.

“BILLY?” comes a voice from the other side “Billy are you in there?”

Steve.

Oh.

What a way to make the fun a hundred times better.

Bam.Bam.Bam!

She’s starting to move to get to the door, sinsonging “Well, I guess Steve’s gonna find out you’re so stupid in love you’re willingly listening to―” when she realizes Billy’s eyes have widened and he’s jerkingly trying to unfreeze, he’s mumbling something in around his already extinguished cigarette in the ways of “Can’t” and “Find out” and “Surprise” and “Fucking help me!” While literally trying to shove the huge mass of tapes under his bed, his tone like hurryhurryhurry!, like he would start gagging and throwing his lungs out at any given minute, so nervous he looks.

So Max doesn’t go for the door. Yet. She basks in the enjoyment.

“Oh, is it a secret romance or something?” She sighs happily, leaning against the doorframe instead. “‘Cause you look pretty worried”

Steve’s banging the door now, voice wavering a little as he asks-shouts “Billy? Billy answer me! Hey, bab―Are you ok?”

“Max, please” Billy begs. Begs. Crawling over to where a Madonna’s Like a virgin is laying with the tape looping slightly out “He really can’t find out”

“What? That you’re in lo-o-oh-oh-OH―”

Billy stops at the tone, right there on his knees. Spits his forgotten cig to the side. And in the instant it seems to take him to make up his mind they both can hear Steve shout “Ok. I know you’re in there!. I’m coming in now!!”

“Fuck! Yeah. I am. Ok?” he looks like he just realized he’s tripped. Blushes. “Making it, I mean”

BAM!

And Ohhhhhhh.

Zero-fucking-zero-fucking-seven.

“Steve,” Max gasps. Because. Hear it makes it like. Easier. To process “You. And Steve”

B A M!

“Yeah, Max, Yeah. And this is a fucking surprise and he’s gonna―”

‘I've been waitin' for so long. For somethin' to arrive. For love to come along’

Ok. Oh. Okok.

“Door!” Max hastens him.

“What?”

“You. Door. Run!” She commands, and Billy― sometimes Max can’t honestly understand how he's got the grades he's got, because Billy blinks, looks clueless “C’mon slow ass. Hurry! I’ll hide all this shit”

And Billy finally gets it. Nods. Slow. Then fast. Stumbles up. Literally runs, to get to the door.

Max still gets to hear his labored “Fuck, pretty boy. “That was really hardcore of you. That's how bad you wanted to see me?” And Steve's own breathless “Really?” Before pushing Billy's room door close with her back, and kneeling on the floor to check for stray, incriminating cassettes.

Pretty boy. Maybe Max isn't as clever as she thought she is. Or hasn’t been doing her job right, clearly.

It's when she’s making ‘It’s a kind of magic’ disappear into the rest of the pile that she lays eyes on it. The case. The J-card written almost all the way down to the B-side already. A mixture of songs Billy's heard so many times there are parts where his tapes screech, and others she'd bet her life he wouldn’t have deigned to listen to. Not ever. Definitely not because―no, for, somebody. Bowie and Cher and Cindy Lauper and Bob Seger right next to Metallica and Guns n' Roses and Meatloaf and― there. There. Almost hidden in the back of the spine. A note. A tiny, thin-lettered thing Max really, really shouldn't be reading but―

‘Thanks for driving me back.

Love. Billy’

But. That's what little sisters do too, she guesses. Intrude. Annoy. Snoop. Feel this sudden rush of relief. Of happiness. When Billy laughs softly, on the other side of the door. When Steve laughs back. Maybe a tear. Or two. But just maybe. She’s really good at this little sister thing, after all.

Hopes for stellar.

,

or: that post s3 where steve lets a camaro-less billy drive him around in his own car "really? again, hargrove?" almost every single day, for months, after he comes back, because "you’re gonna perpetually stick yourself to my ass at least let me do the one thing that frikin’ calms me down" which results in steve resigning himself to deejaying in the shotgun even if "jesus, what's that shit, harrington?" "my car, my rules, sweetheart" which results in billy developing a ‘songs steve harrington is in love with’ mental playlist, realizing he’s probably a little bit in love with the way he loves them and, possibly, a little much love with steve and then stealing steve's tapes one day and,

making a mixtape about it.

(the first of a whole lot, of love letters)

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

I’m On Fire [Chapter 2]

With her sister’s wedding fast approaching and her Mom hounding her about finding a date, Y/N makes a terrible decision that lands her and her least favorite genius in a confusing situation.

Chapter Summary: Y/N and Spencer start to put a plan together.

A/N:  I’ve got a head cold at the mo’ but I had to get a covid test just in case so I’m not allowed leave my room till I get the results! So enjoy a bonus chapter while I wallow on my own for like 36 hours :( On a positive note, thank you guys all so much for the response to chapter 1 I really didn’t see that coming! I’ve tagged everyone who asked, let me know if you wanna be added

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Category: Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst, it’s a Slow Burn Baby

Warnings: Cursing, some NSFW language/themes

Word Count: 6.1k

Previous Chapter -- Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Masterlist 

"Are you coming up or what?"

The question was still ringing in my ears. It caught me completely off guard. 'Up' as in up to Spencer's apartment? Where he lived? I knew he lived somewhere in theory, just like I knew deep down that he wasn't made in a test tube. 

Without noticing I've undone my seatbelt and I'm hopping out of the car, following him around to the front door. I guess I am coming up.

Spencer's apartment is more cosy than I thought it was going to be. It's warm and lived in. It's not big, but I think that might be what makes it homely. Something about the way he behaves had me thinking it would be fully decked out in stainless steel or glass or something. But it wasn't pristine, it was messy. 

There were books bursting from the shelves that lined the walls of the apartment, along with books laid open over nearly every surface in the place, it looked like he was in the middle of reading all of them, and honestly, I didn't doubt it. Maybe I'd misjudged him. He even had some photos of what looked like his family, and maybe friends, even some of the BAU, lining his walls or propped up on his mantle. He had little trinkets and souvenirs on his shelves too, evidence that he'd been around the country for reasons other than a case. I would never admit it to him but there was a real charm to the place.

Once we got inside he took off his bag and suit jacket, tossing them on the desk just inside of the door. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, and he seemed to pick up on my awkward energy.

"You can make yourself at home" he said, his confident streak remaining. I had no idea what to do with that. What would even make me comfortable in Spencer Reid's apartment? I took a seat on his sofa and just sat with my hands resting in my lap. Really not even sure where I should look without feeling like I was invading his privacy. Even though I wanted to. I think it was morbid curiosity, looking for clues on who this man might actually be outside of the BAU. What I really wanted to do was stand up and walk around, soaking in every bit if this place as if it would help me decipher our messy relationship.

He returned to the living room a few moments later, two mismatched mugs in his hands. He places one in front of me on the coffee table. I pick it up and take a sip. It's lemon and ginger, how did he know what kind of tea I liked? I held the mug in my hands inhaling the steam in an effort to relax. When I look up he's watching me, arms folded across his chest.

"So, how does this thing work. What's the game plan?" I honestly have no real idea. This evening really got away from me, I was still expecting to snap out of it and wake up in my bed at any moment.

"Well I can't say I've ever been in a Sandra Bullock movie before either so this is uncharted territory for me too" I say with a chuckle, trying to ease the tension. Even a little. I can see him crack a small smile but hides it almost instantly, his face hardening again.

"My sister, Margot, she's getting married in like 4 months." I can feel myself tense and I shake out my shoulders, I have to remind myself that he's agreed to this already, "Fuck it, I'm just going to be honest with you. My Mom's mostly freaked out that I'm too attached to this job and that I'll just never find someone again." I shouldn't have said again, fuck. I hope he didn't pick up on that. Who am I kidding. "Even though, I'm not sure I care if I do or don't?" he doesn't say anything, like he's waiting for me to continue. I know I've shared a little too much already but I keep going.

"Margot's 2 years younger than me, I introduced her to her fiancé Philip, we met in college, he's a sweetheart. But since they've gotten engaged Mom's gotten exponentially weirder. I think she's convinced I'm fully going to die alone, as if that would be the worst thing that could ever happen? Anyway, she's been trying to auction me off to all these guys, using this wedding as an excuse. I'm not sure how much of that phone call you actually heard earlier but Mom was trying to sell me on this guy, David, and I just… snapped." I look up at Spencer and he unfolds his arms, leaning in ever so slightly coaxing the story out of me.

"David, he uh, he worked for my father for a while back in high school, filing documents and stuff, busy work mostly. He used to make out with me when he was at our house after school, but then he'd ignore me in the halls the next morning. I know it's because I was a pariah back then or something but I didn't want to think about it today and I just got worked up. I shouldn't have let on that you were my date, I was just going to ask if I could bring Garcia or something, and I'm sorry." I cover my face in my hands, "I'm insane, you can back out if you want to."

I can hear him move from his spot on the opposite side of the sofa, he takes my wrists and gently pulls my hands from my face. He looks into my eyes, "I'm in this now Y/N, what do you need me to do?" he asks, and there's a genuine earnest in his voice that I think I've only ever heard a handful of times. And it's never been directed at me.

"Okay, well we've got a few months before you ha–, wait, fuck!" I throw my head back, there's already a complication, "shit" I curse under my breath. His eyebrows knit together, sitting upright.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"I forgot about my Mom's 50th, it's next month. They've got this whole huge party planned back home in upstate New York. I've gotta go and they'll probably want to meet you, or they're gonna have a load of questions for me at least. I can try and get you out of it I'm sure"

He gets that cocky look again, he shakes his head "I don't know, I've always liked a bit of competition" he reclines back into his corner of the sofa, taking a satisfied sip from his own mug before speaking again. "You know, if I've got to learn enough to pass as your boyfriend in a month, surely that means you've got to learn enough to pass as my girlfriend within the month, no?"

Oh god. What have I done, why didn't I think this far ahead. "I mean, yeah I guess you're right." I had to remember he was doing me a favor. I had to get over myself. "Okay, if you're sure you're up for that?" I ask, and he nods, and I think he looks excited, or maybe he just finds the whole situation funny.

"If anyone's up for the competition it's you" he says, and I'm not sure if that's a compliment or a dig but I nod in agreement.

He takes another sip of his tea, collected and relaxed. I can't help but notice how at ease he is when he's in his own surroundings. I'm so used to seeing him sitting at a desk surrounded by paperwork, or combing through file after file in the make-shift office in a small-town police station, usually flustered or anxious, or antagonizing me whenever he wasn’t. This was a different Spencer. Completely in control, at ease.

"Alright, shall we get started then, we can't really afford to waste any time can we?" he was actually sort of right, so I nodded. It was only now occurring to me that I'd have to share parts of my personal life with him if I wanted this plan to work. We already knew the basics about each other, I'd read his file when I started at the BAU, I'd read everyones. And I feel like it was safe to presume he'd done the same.

His eyes bore directly into mine as he leaned forward, I think he was enjoying how uncomfortable I must've looked.

"How about I ask you some rapid-fire questions and you have to answer 'em?" he asks, and it's as good of a plan as any, and I can't think of any other suggestions, so I nod.

"Okay, shoot." I say, unsure and nervous, so I brace myself. I'm just grateful that he's making my life easier rather than harder for what feels like the first time since I met him.

I really should've known better.

He leans in, "So Y/N, first question, when did you lose your virginity?"

I almost choke on the mouthful of tea I just took, that can't be what he just asked, and he looks like he's savoring my shocked expression.

"I uh, I don't think you need to know that?" is all I can get out.

"Really? You think that's something your boyfriend wouldn't know about you?" he's right, but I didn't want to admit it outright.

"I feel like I sort of already hinted. It was that same guy David, I was 18, he was 19. We had sex on the couch while my parents went out one evening. I kept my bra on the whole time, he came, I didn't. It was all very standard stuff." I wasn't sure what compelled me to add that last part. I think I was giving in to the open honestly thing. "So what about you Doc?" I challenged.

He didn't seem embarrassed, or even shy. "I must've bloomed little later than you" he admits with a soft chuckle, "Vivian Stewart, I was 21, she was too. It was the last semester of my last PhD and I figured I must be missing out on something. And I sure was" he smirks to himself. "I came, she did too, 3 times. I did a lot of research ahead of time" he mirrored my story and I rolled my eyes. It was hard not to feel a little impressed but I tried with everything I had to stifle it so he couldn't tell. I wish it didn't make me feel something but it did. I gulp down the mouthful of tea that's been sitting in my throat.

I have to shake myself back to reality. I can't give him the satisfaction of throwing me. "My turn." I command, "When was your last relationship Dr. Reid?" I ask, "I mean like, serious one, not like hook-up" I clarify before he can ask. He thinks on it for a moment.

"I'm not sure what you classify as fully serious, but I guess it was this girl, Rebecca, we dated for a while when I first joined the BAU but it didn't work out. What about you?" he flips it back.

"So that was what, like 6-ish years ago?" I ask, he just nods.

"Mine was like 3 years ago now I think. I met this guy Nathan on my first week of college, we dated for like 4 years. He moved here for me when I got accepted by the BAU." I had to stop myself from delving into the detail. It was a long time ago now but it still hurt. "Long story short, the hours were demanding and they got in the way more than I would've liked. We ended up splitting a couple months after I got the job." I tried to play it off like it wasn't one of the more devastating things to happen in my life. But something told me he’d registered that, so he didn't push.

His energy picks up and he looks at me with a grin, but there's something a little sinister behind it. "I've got a more fun question for you." he leans in closer to me, "Y/N, when was the last time you got laid?" I just looked at him in shock. 

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, I can go first if you really need me to?" his voice didn't waver,

"Fuck you Reid, I know when it was!" I snapped back at him. I did have to think back a little farther than I'd like to pull up the memory.

"Met this guy in a bar when I was out with Pen one night, we went back to his place and hooked up." I say as deadpan as I can make it.

"Well that's not very exciting is it?" he jokes, "Did you at least cum that time?" I know he's just trying to rile me up, but I answer anyway.

"As a matter of fact I did" I earn back a little of my confidence.

"I'm so happy for you, but you did manage to avoid my initial question" fuck "when was this exciting night of yours Y/N?" he probes, like I really, really wished he wouldn't. I could lie, but I'm sure he'd be able to tell. I cringe before I can say it.

"About 8 months ago" I mutter, just low enough for him to hear.

"Sorry, did you just say 8 months ago?" He nearly shouts in disbelief, he seems to find it funny.

"Hey fuck you Spencer!" I go on the defensive, "When was the last time you even got laid?"

"Like two and half weeks ago" he says, confident, and still laughing, "Wait wait, when was the last time you got yourself off? I know you're not waiting 8 months!" he giggles and I think I could kill him. I know I kept giving him outs but was it too late for me to just get up and leave?

"I'm not doing this with you if you're just gonna make fun of me Reid, I get enough of that at work" I get out, my voice is serious but I'm trying to hide how awkward all of this is making me feel, and I don't know that I'm doing a very good job.

I can tell that's gotten to him, he relaxes and eases up on the giggling. "Look okay wait Y/N. I'll stop, I'm not actually trying to make fun of you. I was being serious, I think stuff like this is important if we're gonna have to be comfortable around each other enough to seem like a real couple. Plus, it'll just help break the ice?" he shrugs. "But you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

I soften, because I agree, even thought I hate that he's right. "Fine" I collect my thoughts, "2 nights ago I'm pretty sure." I regret it almost instantly, but breaking the ice is supposed to feel awkward.

"Same here actually," he chuckles, "what'd you do?" I'm so startled by the question I almost forget how to answer.

"I, uh, my, my vibrator? I just felt like uh, I watched some..." I still can't force out a whole sentence. It's not like I was always awkward about sex or anything, I could talk to Garcia, or honestly probably any of the other team members about it. But with Spencer it didn't feel as comfortable. He still sat calmly, smiling just a little.

"Same here, 2 nights back, but with my hands I guess. I wonder if we were doing it at the same time?" he mutters the last part gently and my head goes a bit fuzzy. My eyes drift away from his face and settle on his hands, the mug he's holding looks so tiny with his fingers wrapped around it, I wondered how they'd look wrapped around my-

"Okay I think that's enough for one night, don't you think?" I jump up off the sofa and turn, mostly so that he doesn't catch the blush thats creeping from my neck up to my cheeks. And because I don't know what I'll say, or regret saying, if this conversations continues on its current trajectory.

"Sure," he says, standing up next to me, and I want to move further away instantly, "you're probably right, and it's getting a little late now anyway" he glances at his watch. Ushering me back towards his front door and opening it up. Before I can walk out he lightly touches my shoulder to turn me back to face him, and I wonder if he can feel the heat radiating from every part of me.

"So are you free next Friday after work?" he asks, and I'm so flustered I almost forget why, I just nod. "Perfect, how about we come here again and we can dive into preparing? You could also make a start on getting these onto a hard drive?" he gestures to the antique looking hardbacks adorning the shelves.

'Sounds great!" I perk up, feigning enthusiasm, "See you then!"

"Well, see you Monday morning actually Y/N" he smirks as I walk out the door. Fuck, he was right.

I really hadn't thought this through.

——

The weekend was a bit of a blur. I decided to try and put some useful information into a document for Spencer. It felt strange to try and condense my life into as few pages as possible. I knew Reid had an eidetic memory, and nothing would necessarily overwhelm him. But I also knew that he was someone that the team relied on to fill in a lot of the gaps in the rest of the our knowledge. So I felt bad about dumping a load of information on him, especially considering it was a favor he was doing for me.

I'd complied the majority of my life into a 15 page document and printed it out. Hopefully that would address most of what my family could guerrilla attack him with. There was also something unsettling about the imbalance. I was going to give him so many of the intricate details of my life in a little file, whereas all I really knew about Spencer was what I'd taken it upon myself to learn about him throughout the past few years.

I'd read all of his work while I was in college, given how he was the gold standard of getting into the BAU at a young age, I wanted to know who this guy was. I think I'd pictured something different. And I couldn't deny there was something enticing about finally getting to know him after all of these years of working together. Maybe this could actually be fun, or interesting at least.

----

I arrived early on Monday morning. I thought I was first into the office as usual but Garcia was sitting in my desk chair waiting for me. The second she saw me walk in she tensed, she must've known we were the only people in this early.

"What happened! You've been avoiding me all weekend?" she asked, and she was right. I'd drafted enough texts to her, trying to explain what the plan was, mostly without wanting to admit that she was right. Maybe I was stubborn.

"Alright okay, I drove Reid home." I admitted, dropping my bag by my desk. She rolls her eyes at me, dramatic as always.

"Well I knew that already Y/N damn! What happened next?"

"Fine, we went into his apartment and talked for a while. Trying to sort out the details, get a handle on things I guess?" I said, unsure of how much I should actually give away about our conversation.

"What things!?" She shouts, standing up from my desk,

"I don't know Pen, like logistics and stuff, I still haven't decided how I feel about that little stunt you pulled on Friday night!" I let my frustration get the better of me, and maybe that's why I haven't talked to her. It could also be because I know she's able to read me like a book and I'm not even sure how I feel about this whole situation.

"I call bullshit." She counters, "I know you were relived as hell when I sorted that whole thing out. You would've had anxiety tummy all weekend if I hadn't called Spencer!" I just go silent, she was right. I'd gotten so caught up in the whole, 'how to have a fake boyfriend' that I'd almost forgotten about how stressed I was about Spencer hearing my call in the first place.

"Okay, shit" I sigh. "Maybe you were right Pen. We're actually meeting up again this Friday after work to make a plan for the next while, so I guess that's progress?" I shrug, trying to play it off like this whole situation doesn't make my stomach flip.

"Ohhhhh! So like a date?" She probes, her enthusiasm rising drastically.

"Oh my God Pen no! Like an appointment at best" I diffuse the situation

"Ugh that's no fun" she says, not even trying to disguise her disappointment.

As if on cue Dr. Reid walks through the double doors into the bullpen. Both Garcia and I wave, overall awkwardly, but making an attempt pretend like things were completely normal and like nothing had changed since the last time we were all in the office together.

Penelope heads to her office as the bullpen starts to fill up quickly. Less than an hour later though Garcia's back at my desk and there's a new case that needs the teams attention in Boston. I follow her into the conference room and wait for the rest of the team to join. Spencer follows a moment later with 2 cups of coffee in his hands. I can see my mug in his hand and my automatic response is that he's messing with me. But he places my mug in front of me in the circular table before taking the seat next to me, listening to Garcia's briefing. I don't know if he's ever sat next to me in this conference room, at least not by choice.

I barely had any time to finish my coffee before I have to say goodbye to Garcia and hop on the jet to Boston.

----

The case was grueling. More so than usual. It was wrapped up late on Thursday night and the team decided to fly back home first thing on Friday morning. I was exhausted. Even if there was enough time to get sleep each night it wasn't like I got any. Whenever a case got on top of me like this it made it hard to rest, or get it off my mind at all until it was wrapped up. So even though it was over, that didn't mean I wasn't exhausted.

Hotch gave the team the rest of the day off, given that we have until submit our paperwork by Monday. I wasn't sure if Spencer's invitation from the following week still stood. I didn't want to ask, partly because I was so tired, but also because I was scared. I wasn't about to show up at his house in an effort to have a heart to heart, or hand him a condensed version of my life story on a manilla envelope if he was as drained as I was.

Standing by my desk I packed up everything I'd need to get my paperwork done over the weekend, I was just about finished when Spencer snuck up behind me, perching himself on the edge of my desk. "So, you almost ready to go?" he asks, like it's the most obvious question in the world. I couldn't really hide my surprise.

"Oh yeah. That's fine, I mean, if you're still cool with that?" I ask, and I hate how flustered I sound, like he makes me nervous.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" He chuckles, standing up straight.

"Cool, gimme a sec and I'll be good to go."

I pack up the rest of my stuff quickly and we make our way out. There's something that feels a little eerie about the two of us being in an elevator together alone again. It was a different kind of awkward to how it felt a week before hand. It almost felt like a kind of tension rather than a hatred or a rivalry. Either way we rode down in silence.

Once we got to the basement Spencer walks out of the elevator and walks straight to my car without having to ask. I unlock it and he hops into the passenger seat. Like this is a natural interaction. Something we do all the time. And I don't hate it as much as I thought I would.

"So," he says, buckling up his seat belt and breaking the silence, "do you know how to get to my place from here or do you need directions again?"

"Well I've got to turn on the engine first" I tease, hoping he picks up on the reference to our last car ride, he chuckles like he does.

"Are you hungry?" he asks

"Starving."

The delivery guy get's to Spencer's apartment at almost the same time we do.

---

Once the food's been demolished the two of us finally sit on his sofa, the same sides as the week before. "So, shall we get back into this?" He asks, sitting forward slightly to pull a notebook out of his satchel on the floor. It's small and lavender, and it's got a pen clipped into the spine. He cracks it open and flips to a specific page.

"Sorry, what's that?" I ask, pointing to the book, he looks confused,

"They're my notes?" he says, like it should be obvious

"Your notes?" I ask,

"My notes on you." he smirks, again like I'm silly for even asking.

He had notes on me? He had a whole notebook on me? What was even in that thing?

"You've got notes on me?" I ask, my hands reaching out to grab it, but he retreats faster than I can catch him. "What have you got in there that's so serious?"

"Nothing." and his tone's a bit too stern and I don't really want to push it when he's being so uncharacteristically nice to me.

"I've actually got this ready for you" I pull the file out of my own bag and toss it to him. "I'm not sure exactly what you need to know but that should be the majority of it at least."

He opens it up and glances over the the pages. It takes him all of 2 minutes to get through the whole thing. It feels unsettling that he's taking in a boiled down version of my life while I'm just sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. Trying to avoid the attention I pipe up.

"Um, hey, maybe it would be a good time for you to show me where to make a start digitizing your books over here?" I stand up and make my way to the shelf. He jumps up off the sofa and walks toward me, visibly excited.

"That's actually a great idea, I thought that the theses from my degrees could be a good place to start, since I'm pretty sure they're not backed up anywhere." he guides me to a section of the book case by the window. There's a series of leather bound hardbacks, the same gold font embossed on the spines. I recognize all of them, pulling out the first one.

"This is my favorite" I say without thinking about it and he does a double take, clearly thrown.

"You've, uh, you read my work?" he asks, completely puzzled. I'm sort of proud that I've managed to make him this awkward, and I nod.

"Mmhm, back before I joined the BAU actually. Before I really knew you" I regret saying the last part, it comes out a little meaner than I really wanted it to so I back track. "Spencer, I read all of your work while I was in college, you were like the gold standard. I don't think I slept more than 2 hours a night throughout my PHD because I was just trying to get as much done as you." and his face softens at the admission. But it takes him a moment before he responds. Leaving the two of us in silence a little too long.

"I had no idea" is all he says.

"I think this one was best" I say propping up the one in my hand, "you get a bit cockier as you move on” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "but I'll start with all of these I guess" I grab the matching books and stack them in my arms. Walking over to his desk and setting up. Glancing at the clock it was only 7pm so I decided to just make a start.

Spencer didn't contest. Letting me just get settled at his desk, I pull out my laptop and begin work on transcribing the first volume. After a few minutes he silently places a cup of tea down beside me and goes to sit on the sofa. The time rolls in quickly after that, each time I look up at Spencer he's carefully combing through the file I'd given him. Re-reading it and making little markings in his lavender notebook. I'm not really sure what I put in there that was worth making a note on but clearly he was reading between the lines on some things. That little notebook was like a profile of me.

When he seemed like he'd finished writing he pulls out his phone, scrolling through it aimlessly like I'd never seen him do before. It made him look so normal. His eyebrows knit together as he's looking at something on his screen and he stands up. Making his way over to me at the desk and shows me what he was looking at.

"Who's this?" he asks, "This guy you're with?"

I recognize the photo instantly. It's from a few years earlier, Nathan and I on the beach, my head resting on his chest. He'd taken it while we were on vacation celebrating our anniversary. That was about a month before I got into the BAU, I had no idea that was going to be our last anniversary. I gulp down the emotions that it stirs. I'm mostly over the whole thing by now, but looking at old photos like that, photos of happier times, it can still sting.

"That's uh, the boyfriend I was telling you about last week. Nathan, we broke up not long after I joined the BAU?" he nods, but he's smart, and I kind of figure he already knew that.

"Ah alright" he takes out the hardback and jots another note down. Maybe he's trying to get a read on me.

"What are you doing?" I gesture to the phone,

"It's research, do you not think that if you and I were really dating that stalking your social media profiles would be on my agenda?" he's smug, and he's right. But I guess I just didn't expect it from him.

"Well that's not really fair now is it? I can't reciprocate, you've got no social media presence whatsoever!" he finds that funny, letting out a deep chuckle and tucking his phone away in his back pocket.

"Maybe so, but that imbalance is hardly my fault. Besides, you've read all my dissertations apparently..."

"Bastard" I joke, slamming my laptop shut and throwing a pen from his desk at him so that it lightly bounces off the top of his head.

"Hey, there's no need for violence Y/N!" he rubs the spot beneath his curls, "Maybe it's time you took a break actually?" he says, sitting himself back down on the sofa.

I was reluctant to admit it but he was right. My eyes were starting to go a little fuzzy after looking at the screen for so long. I stand up and stretch my arms out above my head, feeling my spine stretch out after sitting for so long, letting out a low groan. Spencer waves me over to the sofa and I join him.

"How about we go back to basics?" Spencer asks with a small grin, and I can't help but let out a long sigh.

"I thought I was taking a break, no more questions" he just laughs at me,

"Relax, you're not that interesting, it's just a simple question." he states, and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to find it funny or offensive

"Ugh, fine, shoot"

"Well, actually it's two questions" he corrects, "what's your favorite movie, and what's your favorite snack?"

I'm confused mostly by the fact that it actually is a simple question, I was expecting something a lot more contentious, but also because he looks eager to know the answer.

"I'm not really sure what my favorite movie is to be honest, one of them is Night of the Living Dead?"

He nods to himself, and jots it down in the notebook again, "Alright, I can make that work" he stands up off the sofa before turning back to me, "and snack?"

"Peanut butter cups I guess?" I respond and he grins ear to ear, which is a completely new sight, and I like it way more than I thought I would.

"Perfect, gimme 2 minutes!" he leaves the living room and wanders towards the kitchen.

Spencer returns a few minutes later with a DVD, a packet of peanut butter cups , and a thick knitted blanket gathered in his arms. He drapes the blanket over me and gently places the peanut butter cups on top of it before popping the DVD into the player and sitting down beside me. I'm not really sure how to process any of the situation. Am I about to watch a movie on Spencer Reid's sofa? Sitting next to Spencer Reid?

"I... I, uh, thought you were just asking for your notes?" I ask, pointing at the notebook resting in his lap. He picks it up and throws it onto the coffee table.

"Sometimes I find experience is the best teacher, don't you?" he asks before pressing play, “And besides, it should keep you quiet for a whole 96 minutes” of course.

I can only nod in agreement, I'm not really sure what I'll say if I try to speak. I get myself cosy under the warm blanket and we watch the movie in near silence.

Once the credits roll Spencer finally speaks up, "I actually went to see a screening of this last month downtown, there was this little old horror movie fest-" I cut him off without really realizing, I'm just strangely excited that we've genuinely got something in common.

"Holy shit, I was there!" I say, more enthusiastic than the situation calls for.

He laughs at my excitement, "Well, I guess we have more overlap than I thought, that should probably help with the whole charade." he stretches his arms up over his head and let's out a small, gentle yawn. I'd been enjoying myself more than I thought I would, or would ever tell Spencer, that I'd almost forgotten that we'd both been on a case for almost every waking moment of the past week. I really should feel a lot more drained than I do.

I was just after midnight when I suggested that I head back home. I offered to take some of the books home to work on throughout the weekend but Spencer insisted that I just work on them whenever I came over again. I sort of felt like I should thank him for the evening when I was on my way out the door, or give him a quick hug, no that felt wrong. In the end all I could really muster was a lousy, "goodnight" and a meek wave on my way out the door before I drove home. And couldn't get to sleep.

— —

Previous Chapter -- Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist:

@mustbeaweasleyginger

@rexorangecouny

@haylaansmi

@blameitonthenight21

@prettybirdi

@justanothetfangirl

@cielo1984

@bxtchboy69

@collectiveuniverses

@cm-imagines-07

@criminalmindzjunkie

@rainsong01

@70sreid​

@andiebeaword​

@arctic-duchess

@mggsprettygirl​

@thebadassbitchqueen

[zannadu]

This is just a continuation of my last post but with the Dekusquad.

Includes: Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki, Tenya Iida, Ochaco Uraraka, and Tsuyu Asui

Warnings: fluff, kissing, suggestive stuff, and Todoroki being Todoroki

MHA as Stoners

Continued

Izuku Midoriya

Izuku doesn't usually smoke by himself, he will only do it in a large group of people if they are all doing it.

He is a big cougher

Will take the smallest hits

Not because he doesn't want to

But because that's all he can handle

(God he's so precious)☺️

Eventually, he will get up there, though it takes a while

He is usually shy and VERY awkward around girls that he likes

Especially you

But when he is he turns into a whole new person

He is SUPER confident and will make moves on you till the night's end

He is super grabby

Don't worry he's still a respectful gentleman so if you tell him to knock it off he will (as he should)😌

Likes to brag about how you are all his

He is also super goofy

He will also be super affectionate 💕

———————————

“Izuku if you don't stop right now, ” your sentence was cut off by your outburst of laughter. Your hand tried to muffle the giggles and snorts resigning from your mouth. Izuku continued in his goofy manner of wiggling his eyebrows at you. His face moved from side to side until it was in front of yours. He stopped and just stared at you.

“What are you doing?” you asked, lifting your brow at him. He then raised his eyebrows once more, squinted his eyes, and pulled his lower lip under his teeth. You covered your mouth again in an effort not to laugh. He eyed you up and down and released his lip.

“Damn baby girl, did you sit in sugar, cuz you got a pretty sweet ass, ” he smirked at you waiting for your response. You began to laugh again and put your hand on his chest.

“You're too much Izuku.”

Shoto Todoroki

He really likes dab pens

He has one of his own (can you blame him?)

He doesn't share much as it is or show much emotion and is usually awkward in social encounters

And he still is even when high

He doesn't change much while smoking, except for maybe talking a bit more

He will have actual conversations with you

If you're alone with him he will talk to you about anything

He is a lot softer

Doesn't pick up on social cues until like ten minutes later

He is a lot slower though, in his smarts

Will say the most random shit like

“My dad is a piece if shit”💩

“We know Todoroki” 💁‍♀️

Or he will ask personal things that he shouldn't without realizing

———————————

Shoto hit his one and placed it down in his lap. It rested gently in his hand, as he let out the puff of smoke he stared down at it. A million thoughts crossed his mind in a second. Then out of the blue he remembered something he overheard Kaminari saying to Mineta earlier that he did not understand.

“Wath she hot?” mineta clenched his hands and practically shook while waiting for Kaminari’s answer.

“Dude she was a total MILF!” Kaminari said, almost a little too excited.

What the hell did that mean? And why do I care?

At the time Shoto shrugged his shoulders and forgot about it. But as of now, stoned to the bone, he was curious. And who better to ask than his closest friends.

“Hey guys, ” he looked up at his friends who were all now focusing their attention to him awaiting his question.

“What is a MILF?” he said oh so nonchalantly. The rest of the group all began to start laughing and clutching their stomachs in pain.

“I just heard Kaminari say it earlier and I wanted to know, ” he shrugged again and glanced around the now hysterically laughing teenagers.

“Uh, Todoroki it's not that appropriate to talk about, ” Midoryia scratched the back of his neck, his face entirely red from the situation.

“Oh,” he plainly replied.

Tenya Iida

We all know he isn't one for breaking rules, let alone the law

(though he literally almost committed murder👀)

He doesn't smoke very often but when he does he gets very paranoid😒

He always thinks that he and his friends will get caught

Honestly it's kind of a buzz kill

No one likes someone freaking out the whole time you are trying to chill

Be tries to cover any smells with WAY to much cologne

(it smells good though)

And is always chewing gum so you can't smell it on his breath

Eventually he will relax but only to an extent

He will make sure you're okay every five minutes and offer to get you anything

Like you're sick

But honestly he just cares and he can't help it

He likes to go for walks though🚶‍♂️

———————————

“You guys Mr. Aizawa will smell it!” Iida's hand flew through the air as he addressed the smell now filling the room. Iida frantically picked up the cologne sitting on the desk next to the best and began sporadically spraying it around the room and on everything.

“Iida, calm down it's going to be okay just come sit down, ” Tsu said from her corner, her finger pressed up against her lip, as usual. He turned to look at her.

“But I don't want to disgrace our school and have our homeroom teacher discover that we are smoking drugs in here, ” he sat down unwillingly as everyone choked on the cologne he sprayed and sighed.

“Fine, ” he looked over to you to see how you were doing. You smiled at the boy who was now flushed.

“Hey Tenya, would a walk outside calm you down?” you suggested grabbing his hand and interlaced your fingers with his. He looked down at your now intertwined hands and back up to you the flush beginning to grow deeper.

“I would love too, ” he grinned back.

Ochaco Uraraka

This girl can't afford her own 🌿 so she's gotta mooch off of her friends

Not that they mind

She's a giggly stoner

She really enjoys getting high, in fact she does whenever she can

She also loves to get stoned around you

Because she loves to see you smiling and can't help but laugh at everything you say

You could literally as the dumbest shit and she will laugh💀

She doesn't like other people cuddling you and will tell anyone off if they do

They should know that she likes you

She might make a move on you if she's feeling brave

———————————

“Stop y/n, you're killing me!” Ochaco wrapped her arms around her stomach as she continued to laugh until she almost threw up. Gosh, she's so queasy. All you did was make a joke about how deku always breaks his bones while he's using his quirk. This left her giggling uncontrollably and deku as red as ever.

“I can't help it, man, I'm just too funny, ” you shrugged and watched the girl laugh.

Eventually, when you got tired and wanted to go to bed Ochaco offered to walk you to your room, which you accepted. Once you reached your door you said good night and reached to open it.

“Wait, y/n, there is something I've been meaning to tell you, but I just havent had the courage to say it, ” she grabbed your hand and looked at the ground. She squeezed your fingers ever so slightly and returned her gaze to yours. Her face made her way to yours and she planted a ever so soft kiss on your lips and instantly pulled away.

“I like you, ” she said grabbing your other hand. You stood there in shock, and looked at her. Suddenly, you kissed an unexpecting Ochaco right back. You kicked open your door, lips still attached, and pulled her into your room sealing the exit behind her.

Tsuyu Asui

This girl is hard to read but I know if she likes to smoke, she would like bongs

She likes the bubbling sound it makes

She is very blunt as is and even more so when stoned

However if you can get her to laugh, she will not stop

She is also very funny, and will try her darn hardest to get you to start laughing uncontrollably

This girl is also apart of the alphabet mafia🏳️‍🌈

Try and change my mind😤

Will have the biggest crush on you but won't do anything about it

Will wait for you to tell her

Bottom energy

Definitely loves to shotgun with you

May lead to more things later

———————————

Tsu took a hit off of the long and passed it onto the next person. She turned to you, still holding the smoke in her lungs. You simply nodded at her and slowly leaned in towards her. Her eyes fluttered closed and she parted her mouth every so slightly. Your lips just barely touched hers, sending shock waves through your body and hers. But as much as Tsu wanted to kiss you she couldn't. She then released the smoke out of her mouth, sending it straight into yours. You inhale as much as you could and open your eyes to look at the girl in front of you. The smoke then was exhaled as you both held eye contact, lips still touching.

“Uhhh, ” The moment ended once the other teens began to speak.

You both looked around at the confused teenagers, who were apparently staring at you both the whole time you were doing what you were doing.

“Sorry guys I don't know what happened, ” Tsu tried laughing it off but you knew better, and you continue to stare at her.

She continued to talk to her friends story and change the subject. And in that moment you never wanted to kiss her more than right now.

Let me know if you want more!!❤️ thank you for reading!!

[dreamiesdotcom]

shooting star | n.jm

Summary: You take a pen, resting your cheeks on your palms as you lazily think of words to write — now and then, you lock gazes with Jaemin and you pretend that the red in your cheeks is just of the cold.

Word Count : 3.9k

The rooftop is big, but it feels a little crowded.

The addition of people is not bad, you think, especially since those people make your friends happy. By tradition, you welcome the New Year in this rooftop, playing music and games just like the other days but this time, with more food and... well, New Year stuff — fireworks, things to make noise with. The addition of people is not bad. If you're observant enough, it can even be entertaining.

As an example, if you look close enough, you'll see that Renjun and Jisung have been just friends for too long. That, in the sense of Renjun watching Jisung playfully ride the beat, a smile that tips over the line of finding his carelessness unbearable in a growing-more-in-love kind of way.

He looks lost, maybe even intoxicated in the other's laughter, admiring the way Jeno can make his best friend easily drop his shyness. Renjun looks like he wants to know how. If you look close enough, you'll see the regretful heart behind his faux scowl.

Renjun looks at Jeno and Jisung with longing, the kind you're familiar with. He turns to you, and you avert your gaze a little too late because he's giggling as he walks over to your direction.

"So, you saw me, huh?" He asks, handing you a glass of whatever drink he first laid his hands on, no 'happy new year' or any appropriate first greeting. He leans against the railings and sighs wistfully, "Look, do you ever just fall in love with your best friend's boyfriend?"

"Out of random?"

"You don't fall for people at random." Bewilderment crosses his face, and he turns to you the same time you look at him. You shrug, and he arches a brow, "You let that build up and wait for it to destroy you."

You let that build up — the words echo inside your head as you break eye contact. Right across, Donghyuck pulls away from hugging Jaemin with a bright smile, handing him a gift. Jaemin sets it down, and probably feels your gaze on him because he looks up and beams at you. Red flushes your cheeks. — and wait for it to destroy you.

"Toast to that, I guess," you smile, watching him pretend to judge you and fail. Chenle calls out his name for a picture before they set up the fireworks, and before Renjun detaches himself from you, he bumps the rim of his glass to yours. You sigh.

"To the love we wished deserved and didn't."

Shock engulfs his features, then he laughs and he repeats the words before he leaves. The sudden lack of company feels a little cold.

You look at the candle one of them randomly lit, looking at it in stupor before picking it up. The wax trickles and scorches your skin, but you don't wince like you probably would any other feeling day. You hold onto it firmly until its golden glow is close enough to your hands, warm enough that you could pretend it's about to set you on fire.

All so suddenly Jaemin is beside you, blowing off the flame. You watch at him in question until he smiles.

"That'll burn."

"That's alright," you fake a laugh. "I want for a lot of things to burn."

###

It all starts on a Wednesday, a fine afternoon spent sitting at a cafe, waiting for Donghyuck. Your notebook remains open at your side, empty and waiting to be filled with unabashed emotions. The past eight months were spent uninspired, and you decided to look around the place in search of something — maybe the vintage items, the ivory wallpapers, the beautiful chairs — anything.

Something comes in the form of nervous eyes and flushed cheeks, a boy sitting at the far right of the place. He sits alone, fingers tapping on the table, sunlight grazing his skin. You almost hated how cliche everything had been — a boy, an uninspired poet, hands that so desperately itch to write about faded pink hair and a lost angel.

Your gazes meet, and everything unfolds way too softly for it to not be love at first sight.

At that moment, you knew nothing that good should be real. At that moment, you knew nothing that good could be yours.

You were right.

Donghyuck comes in, and he waves at you excitedly before furrowing his brows. Your best friend had always been adorably one of a kind, but none of his weirdness could have prepared you for when he walks straight to the boy's table, and you were almost certain he caught you two staring at each other and is waiting to set you two up, until he's walking back to your table with the brightest grin, the boy beside him.

Their hands entwined.

"He's my boyfriend!" He squeals, "Oh hell, should've said his name first. He's Jaemin, and he's my boyfriend."

"Oh..." you nodded, hands subtly moving to close your notebook. "Uh. Hi."

They both stand in silence before they start cracking up, inevitably making you smile. You excuse your awkwardness, and Donghyuck introduces you two again, and you shake hands this time. You pretend you don't feel shivers run down your spine.

The day passed in blurs of sugar smiles, a love story, a dull throb in your heart. The poetry being written in your head never got finished.

###

The first time you realize it, the world seems to forget you were even born, Donghyuck's across the world with his parents, and solitude is eating you alive. You find yourself stumbling back to the same rooftop, plucking rose petals with a sad face.

It's probably petty — honestly, it is, but it's not just that. It's not that you wanted gifts, or you wanted attention; you wanted to just feel special, to know that someone is glad that once upon a time on this very day, you were born. To belong. To feel wanted. To be told "Happy Birthday" because you are important and should be celebrated.

And maybe it's also because you grew used to it, waking up to several different ways of saying 'Happy Birthday'. Maybe you were used to midnight greetings, to people forcing you out of bed at 6 am, to eating breakfast and lunch and dinner together. Your home had been so empty and to have your friends fill that gap even just for a day is something you look forward to every year — the mournful feeling is there again.

8 pm glares at you on your lock screen, and it reminds you that you can't do any of that now. You tip your head back and let your back hit the floor. Maybe if you look hard enough, you'll see a shooting star and it'll give you a little something.

"What're you doing?"

You look up, surprised but not alarmed. Jaemin's soft smile greets your sight.

"I'm laying down and waiting for a comet to strike me."

The sound of his camera constantly breaks the static, and you realize that he'd been taking pictures of the nightlife. He makes a noise that tells you he isn't convinced with your answer, but you don't entertain him anymore. You just watch him take as many polaroids as he can, and you laugh because suddenly, the only thoughts in your mind becomes 'pretty, pretty, pretty'.

You force a laugh, "It's my birthday."

"Is today your birthday!? Nobody told me!"

"It's not important. I mean, who celebrates birthdays these days, righ— Hey!" The familiar snap sounds again and you stand up from where you're laying down, ready to hit him, but then he gives you the film. You look at his hands and back up, "What's this?"

"My gift." He shrugs as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. You take the picture from his hands, hesitant but relieved that it seemed to look nice, anyway. Jaemin smiles, "It's the image of an angel."

The world stops.

It's ridiculous and cheesy, even he knew that; the two of you laugh uncontrollably. It wasn't the kind of laughter that fades after a minute, but rather the kind that stops for a while only to start up again. The sound grows louder with each passing moment, and your eyes meet, but you don't stop until you both become embarrassed enough to blush; neither of you look away.

 Maybe you are in love.

Maybe you are in love, and maybe he is too — except this time, it's not with Donghyuck, who it should be.

###

"It's you I meet again," Jaemin chimes. "What's up, buttercup? What are you doing here, a coffee shop, at 3 am?"

You look around the cafe, the tables empty. You briefly wonder about when Jaemin started working here before you realize you're unnecessarily curious. You press your lips into a thin line, looking for someone.

"I'd like to assume you already know." Your forehead creased when you noticed the unusual absence, "Where's my favorite boy?"

"Am I not your favorite boy?"

Jaemin pouts, and heaven, how it made your heart skip. You blink, spending the moment in silence, waiting for him to give up. "You are, indeed, not my favorite boy," You smile sweetly. "Where's Renjun?"

"I'm here because he's not. Do I seem like I work here? I was drinking coffee before he passed me an apron and left."

You roll your eyes, a poor attempt at keeping in the words of agreement — you kind of do, you look pretty, I could write so much about you — and you pretend to want nothing but get your drink. It takes an eternity before he lets you go, but once he does, you get comfortable on a table and whip out your notebook.

You look down on the first page, tracing the neatly written words — a confession if anybody who knows you gets to read it. A confession more than a dedication.

To the boy I shouldn't have loved.

The very same shooting star who gifted me a lifetime of heartbreak.

You heave a heavy sigh. You take a pen, resting your cheeks on your palms as you lazily think of words to write — now and then, you lock gazes with Jaemin and you pretend that the red in your cheeks is just of the cold. From that moment, every word you write is either about lights so bright you don't forget how beautiful he was under them, or something so strong it erases every trace of him from your system.

Jaemin leaves the counter and takes the chair across you. You look at him in confusion.

"I don't think you can do that?"

"I just did so I suppose, I can definitely do that." He smiles brightly. "So, what're we doing?"

You eye your notebook before quickly closing it, and then your half-finished cup of coffee. It's still dark outside with only some cars and people passing by, none of them interested in coming inside the cozy place. You say something about just being about to leave, and you look at him as if to say whatever's inside your head. Then, you stand up and walk away.

"Stay," he whispers, light enough that you'd think you weren't supposed to hear.

You swallow the lump in your throat when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, cold against warm, and you don't have to look at his face to know of the begging stare he has directed for you at the moment. You try to look away but you feel weak, so weak that you could only manage a thin, shivering voice.

"Let me go."

"I can't."

Then don't, the voice in your head whispers, the selfish one; the greedy one, the desperate one. In reality, you close your eyes and tug your hands back because what's wrong is wrong, and what's wrong can never be right.

###

The rain clouds come one of the many times Jaemin asks for you to accompany him, and the storm looms darker above you with each genuine 'yes'.

The way this set up started had been pretty simple — hanging out together as friends, getting closer for Donghyuck's comfort; best friend-boyfriend bonding as he called it. For a while, it was everything. It's just your best friend trying to get you to trust his boyfriend, getting to know each other, and that's all — that's the truth.

It was friendship until it wasn't, and that was the truth until it was not anymore.

The night was peaceful so you didn't expect anything to go wrong, but expectations aren't always accurate. The sea looks calm, the moon brighter than all the other days. Jaemin's playing a somber song, something magical that just fits right for him and bittersweet love. His eyelashes flutter in a way gentle enough to drive you crazy, his perfume mingling with the cold night sea breeze, and it's too much that it drives you insane.

"What's wrong?" He asks as if he already knows the answer. "You're not telling me something."

It's been three months and a year since you and Jaemin started hanging out alone, and the swirling guilt in your gut is unnecessary because you're not even doing anything wrong.

It's the fleeting moments, you think, those lingering touches whenever you try to take from him the keys — "I'll drive," you'd whisper when you see yet again that look. Jaemin would smile, "What, scared I'll crash? I'm not stupid." — and when he doesn't give them, you sigh heavily with a hopeful look in your eyes. "Where to?" You'd ask even if you didn't care, and he would let himself forget the world as he opens the door for you, whispering words only a dreamer would say: "Stars."

And maybe it's where everything goes wrong. He shouldn't dream much for hopeless cases.

"Hey, shooting star," you call. He arches a brow at the nickname, but you ignore him. "Do you love me?"

"Would you hate me if I do?"

"You're dating my best friend, so of course, fuck you." You chuckle, shaking your head. "I hate myself more, so don't take it personally."

You meet his gaze, and the world shifts yet again just like at that moment in the coffee shop — angel boy, uninspired poet. He looked at you the same way he did weeks ago at the New Year's Party, that in the way his eyes are saying so many words for him to not be in love with you. Except now, he's much closer. Except now, in the confinements of his car, nobody to witness but the sea and the stars, he's leaning in and his breath is tickling your skin.

Except now, he's about to kiss you and you're not stopping him.

I can't, the rational part of you whispered. You say that you can't, but you're almost always on the edge of something and you're brave enough to consider through the guilt; you hate to admit it but that's the truth. You say that you can't, but at the same time, you don't draw yourself away from him — why?

Because in each and every one of this I can't's is the nasty truth that reads I want to.

You look at the water, and you chase your thoughts out with a dive. Jaemin's lips are still hovering above yours, and maybe if you weren't so numb you'd feel his heartbeat. You want to tear away, you want to run home and make a call and cry a litany of apologies. You want so much. You want so much, but what you want the most at the moment is for him to do what you can't and just kiss you already — you'd rather break yourself than not have this.

You close your eyes and decide that whatever will come tomorrow is something you deserve. You'll break your heart and ruin your world just for a kiss, and he'll leave — but you'll know that for a while he loved you and everything else is forgotten. You choose him and you forget all the consequences.

Just for once, just tonight. Just right now you'll let yourself indulge. Just this time he can have everything.

Right before your lips crash, you catch yourself and swim.

"Would you give me what I want, because you love me?"

Your words come out raspy, your eyes glistening with tears. Jaemin smiles in a manner just as heartbreaking, "What do you want?"

Not him — dear moon, I want him so bad, but I can't — definitely not him.

"I want fire so hot it burns away all the bad thoughts in my head." You suppress a sob as you move away, leaning back on the seat, clutching the fabric of your clothes as if to search for any semblance of sanity. "I want light so bright I forget you."

"What… what?"

You look at him with pure misery, "I think we should stop seeing each other."

Jaemin doesn't reply, but he starts up the car and makes a turn. You close your eyes hoping that everything could just be washed away by the rain, and you don't look at him for the rest of the drive.

###

Never in your life did you even think of living life without your best friend. That just can't happen, and so, why give it a thought, right? You're with him all the time, and he's been there since you can remember, and it wouldn't make sense if one day you wake up and he's all too suddenly not there anymore. You're certain that he's not going anywhere, and even if you're unsure of what the future holds, you aren't so worried.

If you knew, maybe you should have been.

"Hyuck?"

"Are you gonna remind me of the time I almost drowned and you told me you'll kill me if I die?"

"I'm leaving."

The traces of his previous chuckles disappear, and it seems like a movie scene with the way yours bloom tragically as you watch colored lights reflect on his skin. Then, as if sunrise, a slow smile etches on his face. A brief moment of regret and pain crosses his eyes before love overtakes it.

"You don't have to." He murmurs, sight still cast at the sea. Both his hands are tucked in his pockets in such a leisure way, and then he casually peers at you, "You don't have to leave because I'm not mad."

The sea makes the wind blowing even colder, and suddenly, the docks that used to warm you with sunlight feels cold as snow.

He knows... of course, he knows. Donghyuck saw your iridescence from every side and he knew how everything looked by heart; of course, he knew, he's your best friend, after all. Oh, how evil you are. How evil you are for loving the boy who belongs with him. How evil you are that even after that, Donghyuck reaches for your hands and you let him hold you; you let him smile at you sweetly, you let him calm you still.

"How can I even get mad at you? I love you more than anything in this world," he chuckles, and it breaks your heart. "You're my best friend and I'll give Jaemin up if I have to, if that will make you happy."

If that will make you happy... if it will make me happy... why did I do that to you, love? How did I manage to... oh, sweet heavens.

"You're all I need forever," you answer weakly, breathless and breathing all the same in his hug. It's your way of saying no, absolutely no, your sadness would never make me happy. You thank the high heavens that he couldn't see your face and the pain in it when you whisper, "But at the moment, this is what I need. Distance."

The first tear falls from Donghyuck's eyes, and the sudden drizzle of rain washes it off him. You look up to him and see longing, wondering just why it had to be this way, almost begging you you stay. He looked like he's about to send the world away if it meant that you won't have to leave, but the truth burns down to your determination, that he always admired: you have made your mind and there's no stopping you. You know what is best for yourself, and Donghyuck trusts you.

Set yourself free, Donghyuck whispers before he walks home. After that, please come back to me.

###

When you meet Jaemin ten hours before you leave, he's standing at the very same place Donghyuck was the day before. He's wearing a similar jacket, standing in a similar manner, looking just as beautiful against the water. The only thoughts running inside your head is how perfect they are.

"Jaemin."

Not even 'shooting star' anymore.

He turns at the call of his name, and you're still standing on both of your feet, but it feels like diving deep. His skin reflects the very same lights Donghyuck's did, but it looked kind of different — be it red or yellow, white or the shadows; everything looked midnight blue. It feels like standing on a cliff and almost tipping over, eternally almost tipping over and falling into blue nothingness.

Jaemin smiles, not happy but breaking. It makes you hold your breath.

He laughs, "Don't break my heart."

"In the next life." Because it's all that you could have. You return his smile, "I hope I deserve you in the next life."

His laughter rings in your ear, but it doesn't make you laugh at all; instead, it makes you want to sob or scream or just hurt, yet again, to savor the pain because he doesn't want you to but it's all he could give. It feels claustrophobic to align in a way that's everything meeting with your soulmate should be, with someone who's not your soulmate. Or you are indeed soulmates, but not the ones destined to be together like that. Just two wholes that compliment each other but are meant to be torn apart.

"I just said don't break my heart, what did you do?" He tries to crack a joke, walking the last step to be closer to you. He tilts his head in that charming way, "Why did I fall in love with you?"

"Hey, Jaem... you're not. Forget that. Love him." You shake your head, fixing the collar of his shirt, an excuse for one last guiltless touch. Your voice breaks, "He's my best friend. I love him more than the world."

And just as he is to me, I would rather let you go and make him happy, you smiled at yourself. I'd rather you make each other happy.

"I know." he croaks out, a fragile smile on his face. "In the next life?"

You try to imagine a life where Jaemin isn't haunting your thoughts; you can't. For a moment, you fear meeting someone else and not being able to love them because they're not him. You fear that they'd be kinder, softer, gentler than Jaemin and you won't be able to love them back because oh, Jaemin was just right; he was too much but in a way where it's just enough — Jaemin who looks at you like you hold galaxies, Jaemin who would risk the world, Jaemin who is with your best friend. The doomed play goes on and you think again of a life where he isn't what you desperately love, and realize that indeed, hopefully, in the next life.

In the next life, because this love feels right but it's not. In the next life, because it's painful but you'll love him still again and again and again until your stars finally agree.

"In the next life." You nod, fingers clenching on the straps of your bag. You look at the ocean ahead of you, and the lights it reflects, and then you close your eyes as you feel the wind.

"Until then, shooting star."

—

yellow tags 💛

coffee shop

untitled1

[nanorift]

The Science of You — part 2.

Part 1 here!

Hello :D it's nice knowing that you all liked the first part so here's the second!

Also a reason why I include songs in the beginning is because I just felt like it suited the part lmao. The song could be from anyone's perspective.

A song to listen to while reading:

It was fun.

They were all sitting at a table in the dining hall, trays filled with food she didn't hate but didn't love either.

Jett, Raze, Phoenix and Nicole seemingly got along really well and they were having a blast of a conversation. They all seemed to have some sort of interest in sports, Raze loved volleyball, Nicole was a track enthusiast, Jett did gymnastics and Phoenix—though he mostly bragged about being the "art kid" of his family—was heavily invested in basketball and football ("It's football! Not soccer!" As he says it).

The boy who was sitting in front of her eating quietly, however, was silent. He ate his food and only talked when he was spoken too. So, in an attempt to make some actual friends in this school, she tried to spark a conversation.

"So umm, Yoru, do you like to uh- anything? I mean like- do you do sports too or something?" She manages to say, and after a short moment of silence the boy replies.

"I do combat sports," he says, taking a sip of his drink. "Mainly Judo."

"Oh! That's cool! Are you gonna join any of the martial arts clubs later?" she says, a little surprised that someone as quiet as him was into things like fighting.

"You sound like a mom," he says plainly. "And yes, maybe I will, maybe I won't. Who knows?"

"Well it could be fun, you know? And yes, I know I do sound like a mom sometimes. Raze reminds me a lot about that," she chuckles, only to earn a bored glare from the boy.

Did she say something?

Quiet (with the occasional complaints from Phoenix and the gang in the background).

"Are you going to be joining any clubs?" the boy asked, and Klara felt a wave of relief. It was just awkward silence.

"Maybe Mathletes? Chess seems fun too."

"Mathletes? That's boring."

"Hey! Mathematics, for your information, is one of the most interesting subjects out there. Turn that into a competition and you can easily start brain-cramping debates!"

"So... You're a masochist?" The boy grins, seeing Klara's face fluster as she panics a little.

"W-What?" She says, caught off guard. "What does that have anything to do with Math?"

"You like Math, therefore you like to torture yourself. Therefore, you're a masochist," he says smugly. "I'm surprised someone as smart and logical as you couldn't make the connection."

"Just because I like Math and being logical, doesn't mean I'm a masochist!" Klara says, pouting a little.

"Wait you're a masochist?" says Raze, can't help but overhear, earning a groan from the girl as she pulls her beanie down to cover half her face.

Later that evening, Klara was on a bench with her nose stuffed in a book. She was accompanying Raze at volleyball tryouts. She watched as Raze ran across the field to catch the ball and wonders how could someone enjoy running around, getting all sweaty and hot for a ball. Then again, she was one to talk for always having a book around her wherever she went. It could be any book honestly, she would read anything, but her favourites had always been the science forward ones. Non-fiction ones filled her up with knowledge just as much as sci-fi books had coloured her imagination. Every time she reads a sci-fi book, she always wondered if she would be able to recreate the robotics in them. She always had a knack for inventing and robotics so why shouldn't she try?

"Modern Robotics: Mechanics, Planning and Control?"

A familiar voice snapped her out of her trance, making her drop the book. The owner of the voice picked it up sheepishly and scanned the cover quickly, before handing it back to the surprised girl.

"By Frank Chongwoo Park and Kevin Lynch," Yoru says, sitting down next to her. "You're much more of a nerd than I thought you were."

She rolls her eyes before dusting the invisible dust off the book, trying to appear casual and hide her almost obvious state of surprise at the arrival of the boy. "Well, I don't see why I can't study while I my friend plays volleyball."

"True, it's not a crime. I thought you wanted to join the nerd club? Why are you here? Did you wanna catch the ball when it comes flying to your face?" the boy says, smug coating his words. Klara looked up and glared at him, and only then did she have a really good look at him. He was a little sweaty, dressed in a black track suit and sports shoes. A small blue towel hanging around his neck. He had set down his water bottle next to him, which was almost empty.

"It's called Mathletes, and no, I'm not interested in playing with balls. I'm just accompanying Raze," she says, a bit disgruntled. "I see you and the martial arts team had been getting along."

"Not really, I just went for a run," he says before taking his water bottle for a sip, only for it to be empty as soon as the bottle touched his lips.

"Lucky for you, I came prepared," the girl hands over her bottle to him, which was half empty.

"Thanks, and here I thought I'd have to cripple here with nothing to quench my thirst," he says before downing almost half of the remaining water in the bottle.

"God, you're much more cockier than I thought."

"Oh come on, I'm only playing. Don't be such a killjoy," he says before stopping for a moment. "Hmm, Killjoy. It suits you."

"Because I'm boring?" she replies, unamused at the nickname.

"Because you seem like the type of person that'll remind the teacher we had homework when they clearly forgot," he laughs as he watches Klara's face becoming even more unamused. "I'm gonna call you that from now on."

"Oh yes! Because I'm such a killjoy!" She says, propping her head on her hands as she leans forward to watch Raze instead.

"Well, we all have nicknames don't we? It was bound to happen to you too, sooner or later," he says, getting up from his seat. "Well, I hope you don't get hit by a ball later, Killjoy."

Klara gives him a glare. "Thank you for your kind wishes, but I'll be fine," she replies.

Only to be hit on the head with a volleyball that Raze threw.

Ever since that evening, the whole school seemed intent on calling her Killjoy. Jett greeted her one morning with a bright "Yo, Killjoy! Did you finish that biochem homework last night?". Even Raze thought the name suited her.

"I think it sounds cool." Raze says as she linked her phone to her speaker, blasting a loud sound that made Klara almost drop her laundry.

"It does sound kind of like a super villain, doesn't it?" she chuckled as she picked up the fallen shirt back into the basket and set it down near her bed. "I mean, you all have nicknames too, so I guess it was only sooner or later I would have one. At least it isn't some generic nerdy nickname— like- umm..."

"Like bookworm? No! Egghead!" Raze laughs, falling over on her bed.

"Is it because I have an egg-shaped face?" Klara chuckles, throwing the Brazilian girl's tank top at her.

[catzula]

always there to help

Synopsis: You suck at math, and who could be better suited for the job to help you, other than your brother's best friend, the born genius, Bakugou?

Genre: fluff

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x (Kirishima's sister)Reader

Warnings: Swearing, maybe some bad writing

A/N: So, I'm back! I'm sorry I haven't been writing anything lately, I just didn’t like anything I wrote, so, sorry about that. This one might seem a little all over the place too lol, but it’s because I inteded it to be a small drabble. but accidentally made it a 5.1k fic. So, it might not be one f my better works, but I had a lot of fun writing it!

BY THE WAY, 100 followers guys! Thank you so much for that!

You were working on your homework when you heard the doorbell. You sighed deeply, standing up and going to the door, not expecting to see your brother and his friend group to be standing on the other side.

One specific friend caught your eye, his spiky, ash blonde hair hard to miss. You could feel your heartbeat rising almost instantly, cheeks now a bit warmer than before. You wished you had worn something else, anything but pajama shorts and an oversize shirt, maybe combed your hair and wore perfume or something, but how could you know your brother was going to bring his friends home? 

Okay, maybe you should have known since they were over almost every day.

But since there was nothing you could do now to change the situation, you just smiled, inviting them in -you noticed how Bakugou hadn't even glanced your way once, and though this wasn't different then always, it proceed to hurt and disappoint you every time. It's not like you were expecting for him to have feelings for you or something, but at least noticing you were there would be nice for a change.

Your brother was the last to enter, hugging you so tightly that you couldn't breathe for a few seconds, squirming between his arms. "Eiji lemme go!" You screamed, though your voice muffled by his tight hold. 

"Sorry, just missed you." He told you, letting you free. A cheeky, innocent grin was on his face, the one he knew that made you soft. You answered by a "Hmph," turning to his friends, who were already in the living room, doing their things. Mina was the first to notice you when you entered the room, the cutest smile on her face. "Oh, hey Y/N!" She caught you by the wrist, pulling you to the couch to sit with her. Of course, Bakugou was right next to you.

Feeling self-conscious -when was the last time you had a shower? Yesterday? You could only pray you smelled nice- you scooted a bit more to Mina, putting some distance between Bakugou and you, though it pained you to do so since he smelled like caramel. Honestly, why did he smell this good? It only caused your thoughts to be fuzzier, and for you to be even more excited around him. 

Though he seemed to have noticed your shift towards Mina since he sent a small glance your way, a 'tch' sound coming out of his lips, heating your cheeks.

"Hi, Mina-san." You mumbled, trying to forget the boy -your big brother's best friend- sitting next to you. "Oh, y/n-chan, I told you many times, you can just call me Mina! We only have a year between us anyway." You nodded, though still feeling a bit uneasy. “Sure.”

"I- I should go now, I have to finish my math homework." You told them with an apologetic smile, Mina and Kaminari pouting almost immediately. "Oh, come on, sit with us for a bit," Denki protested, his eyes wandering on your bare legs for a second, earning a deadly glare from your brother and a nudge from Sero. 

"What homework?" Your brother asked you, coming closer to you to block Denki's view. "Oh, you know, the one I was doing this morning." You shrugged, you've been working on the same sheet of paper practically the whole day, but you just didn't know the subject even a little bit, staring at the paper without knowing nothing didn't help much.

"Wait, you still didn't finish that? I thought I helped you yesterday." He pouted. Yes, he did try to help you, but you were sure he also had no idea how to do it, and he had just repeated the question to you again and again, until you had said, "Ah, I understand it now! Thank you, brother," without being able to do anything. You knew he meant good, but it still didn't change the fact that your brother was as clueless as you were.

"I-" You had started to say something before a deeper voice intruded yours. "Oi, shitty-hair, you know you suck at math, how do you think you could even help her?" 

Your eyes shifted to Bakugou -you couldn't help but giggle at the nickname he had for your brother, oh, you had to remember that one- he had an annoyed look in his ruby eyes, his eyes not leaving your brother once. "Well, I-" Eiji had started to talk, his eyes widening slightly after, understanding what Bakugou meant. "Oh, you should have told me!"

You shrugged. "Well, you just looked so happy finally being able to help me with something, I didn't want to make you feel bad." 

Oh no, did that come out wrong? You were about to apologize when your brother pulled you in a hug once again. "Oh my god- lemme go!"

***

"So -uhh- if you do it this way, you can, maybe?.. No, okay, I got it, so if you add this to... Nope, that's wrong- umm, oh, how about-" 

Mina bit the back of the pencil you had given her, fully concentrated on the papers in front of her. "Oh move over, I can help her!" Denki told her as he pushed Mina aside.

"You?" She told him in disbelief, "Don't make me laugh, you're even worse than I am!" 

"No, I'm not!" The blonde boy answered, pulling the sheet of paper. "Yes, you are," Sero also joined the fight, pushing himself between the two. "Oh, you shut up, you're even worse than him!" Mina pushed Sero with all her might, panting. 

"Umm, what is happening?" You asked your red-headed brother, watching them with a smile and clearly enjoying the show. "Oh, don't worry, this happens all the time." He answered, patting you on the back, giggling when Mina pulled Denki's hair, making the poor boy scream. 

Oh, that makes it all better then. 

"Oi, dumbasses, shut the fuck up before I do it." You jumped in surprise when you heard Bakugou screaming right behind you, and surprisingly, three of the grown-ass people that were just wrestling on the floor froze. 

"Sorry, Baku." Mina was the first to stand up, fixing her disheveled clothes and running a finger through her soft-looking hair. Sero and Kaminari struggled for a second or two more, but one look from Bakugou and they were up on their feet too.

"Well, thanks I guess." You told the people who literally just fought each other to help you, though instead of them, it was Bakugou who answered you. "Whatever, you shouldn't be asking these idiots anyway."

You weren't sure what to say since the gratitude wasn't intended for him, but you smiled awkwardly. "Guess I'll have to ask someone tomorrow."

"Oh, Baku, can't you help her? You always help us and you're the smartest." Eiji perked his head with the idea that suddenly came to his mind.

"Damn right I am!" Bakugou answered without missing a beat, though he realized his mistake almost instantly. "Oh, that's great, then, you can help her." Mina cheered, clapping her hands with a wicked grin on her face, eyeing both you and the now furious looking boy. Bakugou would have said no immediately, but everyone in the room -even you- knew his pride wouldn't let him.

"For fucks sake," he muttered, his hand massaging his temples. "Give me that stupid fucking paper."

***

"Oh, okay, that makes much more sense!" You told him, even though you still had no idea how he did it, but you tried your best to hide the confusion in your face, not wanting to seem dumb in front of him. But it took one look and his burrows furrowed, lips curling into a snarl.

"If you're just acting like you understood I'll fucking-" A fake cough came from your brother's way, making Bakugou growl. "I'll explain it to you again and again until you understand it." He finished his sentence, making both you and Eiji grin.

"So what didn't you understand?"

Good question.

"I- uh... anything?" You could feel your face heating as you answered, causing him to grimace. "Oh my fucking God." He muttered, pinching his nose bridge with annoyance.

"LOOK-" Oh, he was pissed. "THE QUESTION IS TELLING YOU TO DO THIS, SO YOU JUST FUCKING ADD THIS TO THAT, AND-" His spiky hair looked like it was ruffling up when he got angry, like an angry bird, the thought making you giggle. As he heard your giggle he stopped screaming, and seeing him so quiet was somehow scarier than him shouting.

"What the fuck is so funny?" He asked gruffly, though his crimson eyes weren't as angry as they were before. "You know it doesn't help when you just scream everything at me, right?" You giggled again because he looked really confused.

"Okay, look." He sighed, "see this? This actually just means you should do this." His pencil moved on the paper, his writing surprisingly neat and pretty- especially for a boy as impatient and angry like him. "Oi, you listening?" He pointed the pencil to you when he noticed you weren't looking at the paper, but at him.

"Oh- yeah, I'm listening." You answered, looking at what he recently wrote and trying to understand what he probably said. His eyes narrowed, but he didn't question it further. "Good."

"As I just said," he stated -making you grin since he probably noticed you weren't, in fact, listening to him, "you should do it like this and that's the answer." 

You couldn't understand why, but suddenly what he was talking about seemed to make so much sense. "Oh my god." Your eyes widened, looking at the sheet of paper, you pulled the pencil he was holding without thinking much on it, quickly writing down what was on your mind before you forgot.

After you finished writing, you turned your gaze to the boy that was sitting right next to you, though he concealed the amazed look he had sent you almost immediately. "Is that... right?" You asked him, feeling anxious, if it was wrong, you probably would look like an idiot.

"Yeah," he muttered, quickly glancing your way and noticing the smile on your face. "Fucking finally." He added, trying to get you to stop from smiling since he couldn't stop thinking about how pretty it was, though to his surprise you only smiled brighter. He could feel his heartbeat picking up, not sure why. Were you always this pretty? Smiled so softly, that made him feel all warm? Looked at him like this, like he was the most amazing person you've had seen?

For him, you have always been the sister of his best friend. He hadn't the slightest interest on you, though he could feel that was changing, the thought terrifying him. No, you were only and only Kirishima's sister, no one else.

***

"Hey, Bakugou-Kun." Bakugou was taking his jacket off as he entered the house, his caramel scent making you dizzy.

"Hey, idiot." He answered without thinking, the rude nickname slipping from his lips, he pressed them together instantly as if he could un-say it. He looked at you with slightly widened eyes, expecting you to be sad, or get mad at him, though he could have never thought you would giggle instead.

"Yeah," you told him smiling, "guess I deserve that."

"No." A sudden answer came his way, causing you to be the one shocked this time. "I- I didn't mean it that way..." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking very uncomfortable. "I just-"

"It's okay!" You told him, finally ending his misery. "I know you didn't say it to be mean."

Now, that was a first.

"Yeah, whatever." He muttered, entering the room, though regretting it immediately, was that rude? Maybe he shouldn't have stormed out? Did you think he was rude? Mean? An asshole?

He had no idea you were only happy because, for the first time, he had stopped to talk with you instead of ignoring you altogether.

You entered the room, noticing the rest was there too, and you wondered when they even entered the house. "Hey, Y/N!" Denki beamed, though noticing the look Eiji sent him, he quickly corrected himself. "-chan. Y/N-chan."

"Hey, Kaminari-Kun." You answered, making him pout. "Oh come on, you can just call me Denki!" A small glance was sent your brothers way, "Denki-Kun. You can call me Denki-Kun." He corrected, smiling widely.

"Oh, okay." You told him. "Would you like something to drink, Denki-Kun?" You asked, making him grin wickedly. "She's just too cute!" He whisper-yelled, nudging Sero. "Anyone? I can make tea."

"Oh, just sit with us instead!" Mina told you and you did as she said, knowing she would force you anyway. Once again, you were stuck between Bakugou and Mina, though this time you were prepared and had worn perfume. She looked at you excitedly, like she wanted to say something, but before she sent an angry look to Bakugou.

"Hey, Baku, can you go sit with Denki or something? We're gonna talk and you're preventing us."

"Haah?" Bakugou yelled. "I was the first one sitting here! And I'm not fucking preventing you, I'm just fucking sitting here, it's not like I wanna hear the stupid shit you'll talk about."

Oh, but he, did. He was dying to hear what you would talk about.

"It's not stupid shit, its girl talk!" She defended, grinning when Bakugou stood up. "W-what do you want to talk about, Mina?" It took a lot of willpower for you not to say Mina-san. "A little bird told me you have a slight liking to a certain angry boy." She finally told you, waiting at first for a bit of suspense.

"W-what, who?" You blurted, immediately noticing the mistake you did. "I mean, that's not- that's not true!"

"Oh come on, don't try to hide it!" She giggled, nudging you. "I know you have a crush on bskdhdhdh!" You slapped your hand on her mouth just in time, a sigh of relief coming out your mouth when you stopped her from saying the name. Though, you couldn't stop her from screaming about you having a crush.

"You what?!" Eiji screamed, standing up.

"Ooh, our little Y/N-chan has grown so fast," Denki told as he wiped the nonexistent tears off his eyes.

"So, who's the lucky guy?" Sero asked, grinning.

"Oops, I may have made a mistake," Mina said, giggling.

The only one that hadn't said one word was Bakugou, though that was somehow even more uncomfortable. His gaze lingering over you, you felt like you were going to die of embarrassment (and why did he have to wear that black t-shirt? It only made you even more flustered, and you just couldn't help but think about how nice he looked)

"It's nothing." You smiled awkwardly, face heating up. You glanced away, looking at anyone but him. "It's a misunderstanding." A fake giggle and all should be good, right?

Well, apparently not.

"No, don't you try to laugh your way out of this. What is this crush?" He looked so angry, it was one of those rare moments that he looked plain out scary.

"It's an innocent crush, Eiji! Nothing to worry about, okay? Now sit down, I need to do my homework anyway." Eyes narrowing, his gaze stayed on you a little more, though he dropped the subject soon after.

"If anything happens, you'll tell me everything." He told Mina, though it sounded more like a threat.

"It's not my place to do so." She answered, grinning wickedly.

***

You peeped your head from the door, trying to take a look of inside. What were they doing?

You've been doing your homework the past hour or two -it was only 10 minutes, but it felt like an eternity- and you came downstairs to seek help.

"Hi, guys." You finally entered, only to find them all snuggled on the couch, watching the greatest show ever been made, Avatar the Last Airbender.

Eiji knew the consequences of such actions, desperately trying to close the TV, but he was late, you could recognize Uncle Iroh's voice from a mile away.

"How dare you!" You gasped, now feeling all eyes on you.

"Wait, what's going on?" Sero looked as confused as the rest of his friends.

"Eiji, how could you do this to me?" You ignored Sero altogether, eyes fixed on your red-headed brother.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, sis, it's just we had nothing to do and-"

"I can't even see you right now." You told him, turning your back to exit the room, leaving three very confused people after you.

"No, Y/N, wait!"

***

And that's how you found yourself to be snuggled between Bakugou and Denki.

It was really comfortable, you had to admit, but also very maddening. You couldn't even watch the show anymore, your senses filled with the boy sitting right next to you, his body touching yours ever so slightly, his hair tickling your face every time you moved to get a bit more comfortable.

"So you're telling me," Bakugou suddenly spoke up, though your eyes didn't leave the screen, you could feel his ruby eyes on you. "That you have a crush on this guy?"

"She does." Your brother mumbled from the other side of the room. "She even-"

"Shut up, or you won't be able to speak ever again." Everyone in the room suddenly froze, no one able to understand how the hell you just turned in to the most threatening person they ever saw.

"Well, damn, okay." Sero laughed, sending a small glance your way. "I don't know, man," Denki muttered. "Sokka is much better than Zuko. He is a nice dude, everyone likes him, has solid jokes, and is pretty smart. He's kinda like me, actually." 

"Yeah, he is like you!" Mina suddenly cheered. "Except for the being-liked-by-everyone, having nice jokes and being smart parts, of course." 

"Yeah, that's what I'm telling yo- hey!" He exclaimed, making everyone laugh. "If there's anyone that resembles any of these characters, it's Bakugou," Eiji muttered thoughtfully.

"What?" He snarled. Eiji shrugged. “You’re pretty similar to Zuko.”

"Wait, that's very on point!" You told him, causing Bakugou's brows to furrow. "Just think about it, you're very unreasonably angry all the time, keep picking useless fights with everyone, and are very rude!" Mina cheered.

Bakugou would have punched every one of you for even implying something like this, though now the only thing he could think about was if you thought this way too. 

"I- I didn't mean it that way, though." You told them. "He always tries to look so tough from the outside, but he's actually sweet. He tries to act like he doesn't like the gaang or his friends, but in reality, he really likes them. Don't you guys think so too?"

"Now that you put it that way..." Mina muttered, the topic closing and everyone focusing their gazes on the screen once again, though, even though no one realized, a small smile was on Bakugou's lips.

***

After the Avatar marathon, you stood up, about to go upstairs to continue the dreadful math homework when an idea fell upon you. You turned your gaze to the boy, who was sitting on the couch like it was a throne instead. Spiky hair looking softer than usual, you wondered what it would feel like to run your fingers through them. His eyes were closed, and he looked tired. Under the dim light of the small lamp that hung from the ceiling, you were practically in awe of how pretty he was. 

Cheekbones high and defined, a sharp jawline, like it indicated his sharp personality, delicate brows furrowed, buried in thought. 

As if he felt your eyes on him, his eyes snapped open, crimson eyes finding yours. You probably looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, causing him to smirk. "What's your problem?" 

"I- uh, I was wondering if you could help me with... math?" 

"Again?!" That was a valid question, but it wasn't your fault math was too hard!

"It's okay, Y/N-chan, I can help you instead." You heard Denki's voice, a hand wrapping your shoulder, causing you, Eiji and Bakugou to jump in your places. 

"You don't know shit." Bakugou growled, his gaze suddenly predator-like, making Denki wince and pull his hand back. "Don't do me dirty like that, Bakubro," Denki whined. "I'm just trying to help-" His voice suddenly muffled by the hand on his mouth, a hand that belonged to your bother. 

"You come here for a second." Eiji told him threateningly, pulling him out of the room with force. "No- no, Kiri, don't do this to me!" The door closed behind them, though, a muffled scream or two could be heard every once in a while.

Everyone ignoring the whole ordeal, went back to what they were doing. Bakugou turned to you, his eyes on the sheet of paper you were holding. "So, does this mean you're helping me?" 

Bakugou knew the second you turned to him with that pleading look in your eyes, he was already going to say yes. "Tch," he rolled his eyes, pulling the paper from your hands. "Whatever."

This time, he sat a bit closer to you. 

You sat side by side, arms almost touching whenever he wrote something. "Did you understand this one?" He asked, the pencil he was holding pointing to the second question. Surprisingly, you did understand it. When you nodded, he smiled, it wasn't one of those cocky smirks, this one was a genuine, small smile that took your breath away. 

"Then do this one yourself." 

You gulped, tearing your eyes away from his face as you felt your face heating up. It took you a bit to get focused on what was in front of you, but you were able to use what Bakugou had explained to you, and eventually reached the answer. 

"That's... That was pretty good." He told you as he inspected what you wrote. This time, it was you who smiled brightly, taking his breath away. He could feel his heart suddenly going crazy, hammering his chest as if it was trying to set itself free. And why did he have this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach? This dreadful but also... warm feeling? 

He didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. 

He stood up, his face suddenly angry, causing your smile to drop. He gritted his teeth when he realized he wanted to sit right back and apologize, to make you smile again. But instead, he picked his phone up from the table and turned his back to you.

He exited the room in a hurry that didn't even let you say anything, or thank him.

"Oi, shitty hair! I'm out." You heard him scream to your brother. 

"So soon?" Eiji asked though the door already shut mid-sentence.

***

Although Bakugou had promised himself that he was going to stay away from you, as far as he could, this thing -whatever this was- went on for weeks. He wanted to stop, Bakugou really tried to not think of you whenever he saw a fucking number, but it didn't take long for him to realize he couldn't.

So instead, he came to see you every day, with or without the Bakusquad and helped you with math even if you didn't ask for him to.

You always asked him to, though.

On the other hand, you weren't thrilled about this whole situation either. At first, this was a normal, innocent crush, but as you spent more time with him, you found yourself falling for him. Hard.

"Hey, Bakugou!" You greeted him (you had dropped calling him Bakugou-Kun sometime, though you weren't really sure when), a big smile that you couldn't drop on your face. "Hey, idiot. I brought this shitty thing you like." 

He meant donuts. 

He didn't want to admit it, but he had only bought it to see the way your eyes sparkled when you held one in your hand, about to take a giant bite out of it. 

The rest of the group was already here and settled, so you checked the paper bag in your hands if it had enough for everyone. You smiled brightly when you noticed it did, making your way to the kitchen.

You noticed Eiji standing, leaning to the door, and watching you both with furrowed brows. "Oh, don't look so mad, I'll give one to you too." You told him giggling, interpreting it wrong. 

His face softened, also smiling. "Don't forget to give me the strawberry one!"

"We'll see about that!!" You answered as you exited the room.

"Oh, Bakugou-Kun, did you buy us the shit we like too?" Sero said mockingly, making the others snicker. "Shut the fuck up, tape face."

"Oh, but Bakugou-Kun-"

"I said, shut the fuck up!" Suddenly his heart was beating really fast. "Relax, Baku, having feelings for someone is nothing to be ashamed of!" Mina told him, though she already knew the answer he was going to give.

"I don't fucking have feelings, dumbass." Bakugou didn't have feelings, especially not towards you, the sister of his best friend. But still, he couldn't take his eyes off of you, he couldn't stop his heart from racing whenever you smiled, and he couldn't stop feeling like he would do anything for you to smile again when you don't.

"Sure you don't," Mina answered, a sly grin on her face when she noticed Bakugou's confused expression. It wasn't that Bakugou didn't want the feelings, he just couldn't understand them.

They would have taken it further if you hadn't entered the room with a plate full of donuts in your hands. "Nobody touches the Nutella one!" You told them, letting them take a donut.

You narrowed your eyes and sent a threatening look when Denki tried to take the one you were going to eat.

"You're not eating?" You asked when you noticed Bakugou not taking one. He shrugged. "I don't like sweets."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, "Really? Can I eat yours then?" Bakugou found himself smiling to that, thinking about how adorable you looked with a donut in your hand, a shirt that was too big for you, probably stolen from Eiji and sugar powder smeared on your lips. He couldn't help but wonder, what would you do if he just leaned in and kissed you, right then and there? Would you flinch back? Scream at him? Maybe even be disgusted by him?

He decided he didn't want to lea the answer.

***

"Oh, you're staying late?" You asked with a small smile on your lips, making them look so kissable, Bakugou had to look away. "Yeah." 

"You have homework?" He asked when you didn't say anything. He didn't want you to leave. "Nope, already did them." 

Oh.

"But I kind of wanted to talk to you." You looked nervous, your hands clasped together, anxiously biting your lip. His eyes narrowed, crimson gaze wandering over you like he was trying to read your mind. 

"I have-" You started to say, but stopped mid-sentence so he finished your sentence for you internally. ...feelings for you. 

(You actually had an upcoming math exam, and you were hoping he could help you study for it, but you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.)

Oh, he wasn't going to let you be the first to confess, so without thinking about it, Bakugou blurted. "I like you." There it was, he did it before you! But why did you look so shocked?

"You what?" You asked, eyes wide, just staring at him. Bakugou could feel his heart getting heavier by the second, hands turning cold and a dreadful knot forming in the pit of his stomach. Weren't you saying the same thing just then?

"I-" should he just tell you to forget about it? No, he wasn't the kind of man to just back off. "You heard me." He told you gruffly. "I like you." 

Much to his annoyance, you stayed quiet, not giving him the chance to be happy or sad about it. Just silence. "And? What's your answer?!" 

For the first time in this conversation, you looked at him properly. You hadn't noticed how his crimson gaze shined with uncertainty, confusion, and anxiety. He was afraid of your answer, you realized. Even the great Bakugou Katsuki was afraid of rejection. 

So instead of giving him a verbal answer, you leaned in instead, your lips touching his softly. 

His eyes opened wide with the contact, not being able to understand what was going on. Your lips were so soft, it molded perfectly against his, and he was afraid that if he moved even an inch, you would realize you were making a big mistake and pull back. So he froze.

"Bakugou?" You pulled back slightly after a few seconds, making him want to pull you back and never let go. "Won't you kiss me back?" 

To this, Bakugou grinned, his hands suddenly on your back, pulling you towards him. The last thing you remembered before you lost yourself in the kiss was how soft his lips were, and how amazing he smelled.

***

"You know we still have to tell Eiji, right?" You told him, running your fingers through your messed up hair, trying to look like you didn't kiss a boy for the past... well, you weren't sure how long, actually. 

"Yeah." He answered, lips slightly pink. 

"You know, I think I have the perfect idea of how to tell him."

"You do?" He asked, now slightly intrigued. You nodded, standing up. Eiji was in his room, so you pulled Bakugou by the wrists up the stairs. "Come on." You told him when he hesitated. "This will work."

You knocked on your brother's door, opening it just the slightest when you heard him tell you to come in. "Hey, Eiji." 

"Hey, sis." He smiled widely, not aware of Bakugou behind the door. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much." You shrugged, "Just wanted to tell you that Bakugou and I are dating, okay bye!" You shut the door after you without giving him the time to say anything, running down the stairs, and pulling Bakugou after you. 

Your brother opened his door, running after you, his face as red as his hair. "You what?!"

"You idiot!" Bakugou screamed. "So this was your great idea?"

[cblgblog]

Imagine Mildolyn, "Illicit Affair", Modern AU. Where Gwen's campaigning for Congress and all the meet and greets, showing up for charities for publicity, her 'cause'. At one for special needs children and their foundation she meets a very young CNA named Mildred and sort of falls head over heels in the dumbest of ways, both just love struck. Except she's campaigning to be in Congress, she's a politician, she cannot be queer and chasing after 19 year old ex-foster kids whos brothers are set to be the youngest executed on Death Row in California in decades for appalling crimes. But there she is, in hotel rooms her supporters pay for, with someone she shouldn't be with, trying to find ways to overturn cases that turned stomachs with their brutality, because a pretty girl smiled at her and called her 'ma'am' while showing her around the foundation/care home she worked at with children no one else had the time/patience to care for. Of course it goes terribly with 'dirty little secret' vibes, the breast cancer diagnosis announced on twitter before she tells Mildred in person, even if it's such a minor case ('so they say') and caught so early that it'll barely leave a scar, radiation won't be much of a deal at all. She doesn't get to tell Mildred that, she just gets to hear on Fox news about how the democrat's gonna die a horrible death and panic.

Mildred who has no patience for politicians and their fake concern, using patients as photo ops. It’s manipulative, it’s distracting to the staff, it’s awful, okay, she hates it. She is, in fact, a tad bit rude to Gwen when they meet. Gets her a death glare from Betsy Bucket, gets Gwen intrigued.

“Republican?” only half-joking.

“No.”

“Is it the suit? Should I have worn a different suit? I wanted to, but I’ve been told this one tested better.”

“The suit is fine.” It’s more than that, actually, but Mildred will not be saying that aloud, nope, uh-uh. “I don’t much care for politicians.”

“Ah, we have that in common then.”

“I doubt we have much of anything in common. Ma’am.”

And look, Gwen doesn’t usually go in for the chasing, the hard to get. She’s got enough trouble chasing votes. But this woman is so good with the kids on her ward, so patient. She’s got Disney scrubs on and as much as she’s got no time at all for Gwen, she seems to have infinite amounts for those kids. She stays with them individually, longer than any of the other staff Gwen sees, but she still manages to get a dozen things done in half as many minutes. And she’s also gorgeous, there’s that.

And Gwen has no good reason to ask her out for lunch. Honestly, none. Nothing good can come from this. Mildred asks if the citizens of California will be paying for this meal and Gwen swears that isn’t the case, no, absolutely not. Even still, Gwen doesn’t expect Mildred to say yes. She doesn’t think Mildred expected Mildred to say yes.

But she does. Tells herself it’s for Edmund, maybe this’ll be the one politician who listens, who’s willing to look past the surface facts, willing to help. Except she gets there and they don’t talk about Edmund. It’s not because Mildred doesn’t know how to bring it up, she’s made her case dozens of times. She just…they don’t talk about him, and that feels like a betrayal, but Gwen’s kind and funny and fascinating (much to Mildred’s annoyance), and she just…doesn’t feel like getting into it.

Meanwhile Trevor, Gwen’s campaign manager/law school buddy/best friend/lavender marriage soulmate, if they were in a different time, is like bitch, what’re you doing? Yes, everyone knows you’re gay as hell, but you can’t be chasing girls right now, you can’t afford to be distracted. You especially can’t afford to look distracted. And you can’t be robbing the cradle while looking distracted.

“She’s not that young.”

“Uh-huh. She wears Winnie the Pooh clothes.”

“Scrubs, those are scrubs. Scrubs aren’t clothes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She works in a children’s ward, Trevor.”

“Uh-huh. I really wish you wouldn’t do this, but since you care nothing about me and my mental state and all the hours and hours of hard work I’ve put in for you—”

“After badgering me into hiring you over someone more qualified.”

“Hey! More qualified. I resent that. Anyway, if you insist on ruining my day, at least wear that face cream I gave you. Should make you look less like you’re robbing the cradle.”

“Go to hell.”

“And don’t do the oyster thing. Not on a first date, in the middle of the campaign.”

“It’s not a date, it’s just lunch.”

“Uh-huh.”

Gwen doesn’t do the oyster thing. Not on the first date, which neither of them acknowledge as a date, for entirely different reasons. But then there’s a second and a third, and sex, lots of sex, and it’s harder to pass off as just friendly.

And yeah, the sneaking around that Gwen hates. That Mildred says she doesn’t mind, and she actually doesn’t seem to all that much, which Gwen finds slightly concerning. Mildred’s good with secrets though, she’s good with being kept a secret. Mostly. Which again, Gwen finds concerning.

There’s pillow talk and Mildred admitting more about herself than she has to anyone, ever. Which still isn’t nearly as much as what Gwen admits, but it’s a relative thing. And still, Mildred doesn’t talk about Edmund. Gwen finds that one out on her own, stumbles across some old photos, a scrapbook of Edmund’s crimes. Gwen’s briefly concerned that Mildred is one of those people who’re deeply attracted to serial killers, but the truth is…something else.

Mildred tells her things. Some of the deeper, darker stuff, but not much, not yet. Tells her how she’s written to everyone she can think of because he’s a boy, okay? He was in an impossible situation, they both were, no one ever helped them, so Edmund decided he had to die. No one helped them before, no one helps them now. There’s anger and tears and Gwen holding her and she can’t help asking why Mildred didn’t talk to her sooner, if she’s had no problem asking for help from strangers.

“Because you aren’t,” Mildred says in a way that makes it clear she’s figuring this stuff out as she says it. “A stranger, you aren’t. You never were and I couldn���t…I didn’t want to become one to you. I didn’t want you to look at me like that.”

“Oh Mildred…”

Mildred doesn’t actually ask her to help. She doesn’t want Gwen to think that’s what it’s all been about. It was supposed to be, but it isn’t. She doesn’t ask. Gwen digs into things herself, digs into this kid who was barely double-digits when he did these things. Made all the headlines at the time, but that was over a decade ago, he’s been locked up ever since. Most of Mildred’s money goes to him, one way or another.

Gwen hides it from Trevor—the murderer, not the sex, he knew about the sex before she ever said anything—for as log as she can. But he’s always been nosy, and now he has a paid excuse to be nosy, and he nearly has an aneurysm when he hears why it is that Gwen’s suddenly digging into this case instead of kissing the babies of gay couples, like she should be.

Gwen cannot do this. Nope, absolute no. She cannot be sneaking around with the younger sister of the kid they’ve made all the documentaries about. Doesn’t matter that she’s running on a platform of prison reform, especially as it pertains to juveniles, this is not the case to start with, especially when she hasn’t won yet.

And Gwen knows. She knows. She argues with Trevor about it until he decides they both need to stop because Gwen has a speaking engagement tomorrow and she can’t sound hoarse. There are many further arguments, arguments about principles over politics, but Gwen knows he’s right. She cannot, should not, be doing any of this, at least not yet. It’s dangerous, it’s selfish, Mildred deserves better than being someone’s secret again. Gwen should break it off, at least until the election. She’s not being fair to either of them like this. They should stop, at least for a few months.

Except it’s Mildred and she’s totally hijacked Gwen’s everything, and the thought of stopping makes her ill, and everything about this is terrifying, the most terrifying thing ever.

And then there’s the checkup and the routine mammogram. Gwen started those earlier than most because somebody’s aunt on somebody’s side of the family got sick, somebody’s cousin on the other side did too.

Scratch that, there’s a new winner for most terrifying thing ever.

It’s good, they say. She started early, they caught it early, this is good, they have treatments for this. Good, they say, while Gwen damn near passes out. She’s got a campaign to finish, she can see the Too Sick to Serve headlines already. A bald look would not test well, she’s sure it wouldn’t. She talks to Trevor about that, about the campaign, until he tells her to shut the fuck up, yanks her into a crushing hug. He cries, damn him, and that makes her cry.

She’s glad he’s there.

She wishes Mildred was.

She is also relieved as hell that Mildred isn’t, that they’re on opposite sides of the state right now. No point having Mildred see her like this, having her worry. She’s got enough to worry about, enough to hurt about.

Not that Gwen isn’t planning to tell her. She is. It’s only been a few whirlwind months, but Gwen knows enough to realize that a lie of omission would be a bad, bad, bad idea where Mildred’s concerned, regardless of intention. Gwen doesn’t think of hiding it anyway, not really. Mildred deserves better then that. When and how to tell the public…that’s a completely different clusterfuck of a situation, but Mildred, Gwen just wants to tell her in person. That way Mildred can see her face when she promises it’s no big deal (hopefully without seeing how terrified she actually is), and Gwen will have all the paperwork and things she knows Mildred will want to see, and they can hold each other, and it’s just, it’s not phone call news.

Except then it’s headline news, because somehow it’s leaked. Fox News is having a field day, certain corners of the Internet are already gleefully writing her obituary, and she’s missed literally hundreds of calls by the time she gets a look at her phone. At least half of those are from Mildred. Mildred who actually sounds hysterical for the first time since Gwen’s known her, that bastard on the news with the hair, he says you’re dying, why aren’t you answering, how long have you known, please, please pick up the phone, just pick up the phone god dammit.

She’s managed to keep Mildred a secret for months. This? This doesn’t last three days before it’s everywhere. Gwen does get an I love you for the first time ever, but seeing as Mildred’s sobbing over her voicemail when it happens, the joy is somewhat muted.

[contentconsumer]

hello! i’d like to make a ship request :)

moral description

- i really try to go out of my way to be there for the people around me as a consequence from being bullied in middle school. i always feel like people might be going through something that those around them don’t know about, so being mean can be really unnecessary at times?? that’s why i feel guilty whenever i get into arguments since i dont want people to remember me as someone who hurt them.

- at the same time being sympathetic to everyone and being introverted sometimes prevent me from standing up for myself at some point so that’s something i’m trying to work on as of now

- but if i’m actually close to someone i’ll get way more comfortable; that means making jokes, talking about what i’m passionate about (writing, drawing, reading, listening to music, playing video games, going on “adventures” & roleplay games) and having playful banter. i’d still call a friend out if i dislike their behavior though.

- i’m really independent so i guess having a controlling bf/gf would make me uncomfortable?? that would be definitely something we’d argue about.

- if i’m upset about something, i’m either quiet about it or passive agressive. then i get even more upset because people don’t notice anything. i keep things for myself.

(short) physical description :

i have no idea if that’s really needed but just one thing🧍‍♀️

i’m 5'3 so a height difference would be nice... just saying though <3

sexuality :

- bisexual

chosen fandom/show :

- i wish to be shipped with stranger things

what characters :

- i’d like to be shipped with the highschoolers (both hawkins and california!)

zodiac sign :

- libra sun gemini moon leo rising (astrology nerd? me? no.. 🙄)

small ideas of scenarios with s/o :

- arguing (about what? up to you. could be about some dumb thing like d&d or something more serious like the upside down or our traumas) and then making up because my fav trope is angst/comfort..

- eventually having meaninful late night talks about our respective bullying experiences and life

- sitting next to each other in class and one of us gets a sudden nosebleed

who would be my best friend :

honestly, not sure. i think i’d be close to max...? and maybe will before he moved. i think we’d get along well.

and that’s it. thank you for reading my thoughts, i was really inspired. take your time and don’t overwork yourself with the asks you may have rn! i wish you a nice day <3

hi! i ship you with mike wheeler! i think he may borderline on the independent side too - when he's not asking the boys for help with his relationship so would understand the need for space within your relationship. i think he would also be able to read you like a book, so if anything changes in your body language he would pick up on it immediately like if you become quiet he notices it immediately and would take you too a different room to chat through what's on your mind similarly, you both share the same hobbies of dnd etc so you are able to spend a lot of time together doing activities you both enjoy!

"hey uh, you got a little-" mike gestures to his face, making you place your own hand above your lips where you feel a liquid, upon looking at your fingers you see its blood. "oh shit" you mumble, "i'm really sorry" "what are you sorry for" mike laughs, causing the teacher to shush the pair of you. "i don't know i feel like i shouldn't be having a nosebleed right now" you wave your hands slightly frantically, "i mean you can't really control it...can you?" mike questions with a smirk and raised eyebrow, "no mike, i can't control it" "well there's nothing to apologise for then, common," he stand, "let's get you cleaned up." you take his outstretched hand.

hope this is okay!

[rayne-storm]

AUgust 14 - Chefs

Title: WENN LIEBE IN DIR IST… UND GUTES ESSEN

Fandom: Tanz Der Vampyr

Alfred/Herbert, Graf/Sarah

This is my favourite musical. Straight up. You cannot get better than this. Maybe "Master and Margarita" but I haven't found a good bootleg of it.

I really hope you guys like this one!!!

Oh, there they were again. That damned truck with it's bombastic orchestral music, the catchy paintings, and the obnoxious sign boy. Alfred knew they were doing this on purpose, parking there because they knew how much it pissed off the staff of his own restaurant. Sure, it wasn't really "his" restaurant. It really belonged to Abronsius, the eclectic perfectionist who taught him everything.

And there the sign boy went, platinum hair flowing ever so delicately on the wind. He chatted up anyone that came by, and of course the mesh shirt mixed with the weird cape thing only made the spectacle that much more intriguing.

Alfred must have been glaring for too long because the blond eventually turned and winked straight at him through the window.

Damnit!

His face must have turned red because Abronsius asked him what was wrong, and he quickly made up some excuse about the heat before going back into the kitchen.

"You know," Sarah - the newest pastry chef - whispered, "their food's really good, and the sign dancer guy is single~" she teased.

Alfred felt his face pucker like he'd eaten a lemon.

Yes, the man was attractive, but from what Abronsius had said, they were all bad sorts there. But… well… whatever. Whatever. He had soups to make.

---

Three nights later. They were back. He had the evening off. Fuck. He was pissed. Abronsius had denied him a raise again. He shouldn't have been surprised, but if always stung when he was educated on exactly why he wasn't worth an extra two dollars an hour.

He knew he was young, sure, but he wasn't stupid or incompetent, he didn't have wrong priorities. He wasn't any of the things that stodgy old bastard said. And all he had wanted was two (2) more dollars. It wouldn't have even made him the highest paid (even discounting the profits he knew the old asshole was keeping).

So he wanted to make the man upset. As the sounds of Tchaikovsky drifted towards him, he couldn't help smirking. He hoped Abronsius was watching. Hoped Abronsius saw him ordering off the competition's menu, and he fully planned on eating right outside the restaurant, in full view from the large glass windows.

"Well hello there, finally come to see what all the fuss is about?"

Alfred nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't heard anyone approaching, but there he was: the sign guy. Blond haired, pale skinned, and just, umf, fucking beautiful.

Alfred felt his heart rate increase just from the sheer proximity.

"I-I-I, uhm, yeah. Uh, m-mostly, well, I, uh, wanted to p-piss off my boss."

Real smooth, dipshit!

Sarah was right. He was hopeless.

The guy grinned and, of all things, kissed his hand.

"Well, I'm glad you did. I thought I might have to venture into that tacky place to properly say hello."

Alfred honestly didn't disagree. The restaurant was called Knoblauch, which just meant "garlic" and the interior was kind of gaudy. Not that he would have ever dared say so.

"I, uh- wait. You wanted to see me?"

"Every day since I first spotted your adorable pout, yes."

It was effortless the way this guy flirted and Alfred was just getting more and more shy.

"I'm… um… that's sweet. Thanks."

"So did Sarah get you to take a look? She's been very chatty about you, you know."

Ah fuck.

"I, uh, I mean, maybe I guess, but, uh-"

"She says you're a single hopeless romantic, and I really hope she's right," the man interrupted, and whoops, there went Alfred's ability to speak anything but flustered gibberish entirely.

The man leaned down and grinned.

"My name's Herbert von Krolock. What's yours?"

Oh, Alfred knew this man knew, but he couldn't help answering anyway, stuttering it out.

Herbert grinned. "You're so cute! Do you wanna have dinner with me? Now?"

"U-u-uh, um, I mean, uh, I…. Yes…?"

Herbert took his hands (both of them, like this was some kinda romcom), and led him over to the side of the food truck, music playing louder there, and the magnificent frescoes truly visible. They were gothic scenes, dark balls. Alfred couldn't help liking them, for whatever reason.

Then another beautiful man appeared, pale and salt-and-pepper tied in a neat bun.

"Oh, the boy finally came. What shall we have tonight?"

Herbert smiled and nudged Alfred, who realized in a panic he had no idea what kind of food they even sold. The man seemed to take pity on him, luckily.

"Let's start you with a sampler, then. I know it's a wide variety… I'm glad you stopped by. Sarah speaks highly of you," he added with a small smile.

If he survived this Sarah was getting the bougiest fucking brunch ever.

Hebert led him to a small table over to the side to wait.

"You know, Graf is head over heels for her, but he's afraid his age will put her off," the blond murmured conspiratorially.

Alfred couldn't help snorting softly.

"She has a thing for older guys, actually. He should go for it."

Herbert grinned brightly. "I'll try to let him know that…"

Alfred couldn't help smiling. Was it something in the air? Who knew? He just… was having the best night he'd had in a long time.

The food was ready and Herbert got it, stopping only briefly to greet visitors. Alfred was a little surprised, since he always seemed so sociable before, inviting people in.

"What's the look for, hmm?"

Alfred was startled again by the quietness of Herbert's steps.

"O-oh! Nothing, really. Just… you always seem so chatty when…"

"When you spy on me from your little restaurant? I am. But tonight I'm on a date with a very cute guy, and he gets all my attention."

Alfred once again lost all coherence, nibbling at a strawberry to hide his sheepishness.

Herbert just chuckled, and began telling him about the food truck.

Graf (the owner, Mr. Sexy Older Guy) had taught himself to cook after dealing with a very hard childhood, and one day he decided he would take his knowledge out and feed others. He quickly became popular as a caterer at parties, the rich-people kind, like masquerade balls and that kinda thing.

He still did them sometimes. But his true love lay in cooking for the masses, it seemed, out on the street, in parks, at games. He decided to take the Balls and Parties with him.

"That's… really cool," Alfred admitted.

"Yeah? I think so. But we might have to give it up… he's thinking of doing a world tour in his golden years," Herbert began with a wry smirk, "as though he ever plans on retiring… but he wants an apprentice. I'm no good at anything except cold foods and people-pleasing…"

Alfred sighed and shook his head. Just his luck. He found a new favourite place and they were closing.

"I mean, you seem pretty good at what you do…" Herbert added suggestively.

"Wait, wait, what? Me?"

"Yeah. You. You're not the only one that spies from time to time. You seem really passionate about food. And fast. And competent in general."

Everything that Abronsius berated him for not being.

"I… is this all just a ploy? To poach from the competition?" He asked, stiffening. It was one thing to be all flirty and friendly, an entirely other thing to-

"What? No. Of course not! I'm not so shallow I'd do that."

Herbert looked genuinely hurt and offended. Fuck.

"I… I… I'm sorry it's just… I'm pretty often reminded that I'm a young, stupid know-nothing that'll never make it on my own and all…" Alfred muttered bitterly.

"That old hack doesn't know what he's talking about."

Graf's voice came from nowhere, and you know what? Alfred could live in a state of permanent heart-attacks. That was fine.

"What? You know him?"

"That pompous blowhard is the reason I never went to culinary school. Way back when, he made everyone's life hell because it had to be his way or nothing, because he knew how to cook 'properly' and we knew nothing."

"....so I take it he hasn't changed much."

"Nope. Almost ruined food for me. I decided I'd never go through anything that would turn me into a rude monster like that."

"Well, I'm quitting tomorrow, so I don't blame you."

Graf chuckled. "Why bother with that courtesy? Just come work for me. Rub it in his face. Bring the girl too. Take his two best kids from him."

Yeah. That… that sounded good.

"You know what? I think I will. If you'll excuse me, I have a call to make."

He walked over to the other side of the truck, a little ways away, where he could look in and see the kitchen. And there was Sarah, flinching at something the old bastard was saying.

He called her number.

He almost couldn't believe it when she picked up.

"Look outside," he directed. She did, and gave him a wave and a bright smile.

"How do you like it?!”

"So much I'm gonna work here. I quit. You should too. They asked for you by name."

"Say no more."

She hung up, and without further ado completely stripped off her uniform, leaving her in a sports bra and leggings (cause let's be real it got fucking hot in that kitchen sometimes), and she just sauntered on out.

Herbert started laughing, and Alfred turned just in time to see the look on Graf's face as his dulcet darling was strutting over.

"So, you want to give a recently unemployed girl a job?" She asked with a bright smile.

Alfred was glad he wasn't the only one who sometimes forgot how to speak.

Herbert took over, and the pair quickly bantered a deal, and Alfred just took a minute to watch.

They looked good, all together like that. Almost like a family.

Of course, then Herbert glanced up at him, and gave him another of those heart-stopping winks.

Well.

Carpe noctem and all that.