#one of these days youll figure out how to notice his presence he was there from sentence 1 mguy lol

[swiiivet-screamathon]

"Haha, Strawberry Crepe? Are you in here?"

"Hm? Pure Vanilla? Whad'ya want?"

"Ah, no particular reason, nothing inconspicuous, of course."

"Ah, right-- well, don't touch anything; have zero interest cleaning up other cookies' messes today."

"I'll do my best. What are you working on?"

"Someone actually came for me for some upgrades, its been so long I thought everyone had forgotten I could do that. So I want no distractions from that."

"Oho? Could I be curious on who wanted what?"

"Anything to help them sleep better and quicker, wanted to be out on the field as fast as possible-- capsule sounds easy peasy to me."

"Really? Its that easy with no negative side effects? Sleep is important you know."

"I don't assume this guy is particularly fussed about the negatives of sleeping for short amount of times. If no one fights you over it adjusting a cookies circuitry isn't that hard either, but it might make jellies taste weird."

"I think there might be some negative side effects that simply aren't being considered due to the character of the cookie, am I right?"

"He told me he wouldn't blame me for anything if he started feeling ill, not like he would anyways I'm not that careless with my contraptions, so for all I care anything could happen to him."

"If anything does make sure to tell me about it alright? I don't want any cookie suffering under my nose."

"Yeah, yeah, can't keep my workshop if I use it for evil. My memory works just fine."

"Speaking of no one in particular, how is it working with Espresso?"

"I didn't expect someone composed of his ingredients to respect the craft as much as he does, so he's fine. Spends most of his time working on the candies though so he's carved out his own space over there to work on it. As long as he doesn't randomly explode anything I don't have any issues with it, which fortunately he hasn't yet. It'd be nice if someone who spent so much time in my workshop cared about the wafflebots but it's not like he's causing any fights with them either."

"He can't read your mind you know, if you want him more involved you're going to have to communicate that."

"No, no-- Dragging someone who doesn't inherently care is no one to bother with, he stays over with his candies I stay over here with my stuff."

"As long as you're aware of that choice. Have you done that for him though; helped him at all with his candies?"

"Duh, he might be shockingly respectful despite his ingredients but he is characteristically frantic, he'll run around in a mad craze if anything takes longer than expected and I get put on babysitting duty whilst he grabs some solution from who knows where."

"Are you alright with that arrangement?"

"Its not that bad and it could be worse, if it means we get candies at all I guess it's a sacrifice worth making."

"Would you like an extra pair of hands to help out...?"

"Again? Unless you found some new cookie since the last time you brought that up--- ah, wait, right. I'm gonna have to think about that one, its quite the commitment."

"Take the time you need, I want to assure that it was just a passing thought, don't feel burdened to accept if you have any doubts."

"As always..."

"I think I should be returning to my duties, it was nice catching up with you though. Hope I didn't distract you too much."

"... It's not that hard to multitask when it comes to you, don't have to keep a close eye on you."

"The highest compliment one can get from you, haha. Have a good evening Crepe."

...

"I guess only one of you are actually leaving tonight."

[mqnasluvr]

skinship headcanons | genshin impact

pairings; jean x gn!reader, amber x gn!reader, albedo x gn!reader

mentioned; kaeya, lisa, huffman, sucrose

warnings; suggestive themes ( jean ), all lowercase, not proofread

word count; 1.7k but half of it is albedo

jean

jean is not the touchiest person out there, but she does enjoy holding you. not too big on pda either; the most you’ll get out of her in public is maybe a quick smooch on the cheek and hand holding🛐 other than that, shes quite reserved.

her hugs are very comforting, but the first couple of times it was awkward on her part. she was used to giving barbara and klee hugs, but this was different. she wasn’t sure where to put her arms, and if anything she got more frustrated the more she hesitated.

once she grows accustomed to it, she’ll be fine. she enjoys the warmth and innocence of hugs, especially if you’re taller than her.

like i said, in public she isnt very touchy. while running errands she does keep you close though, and enjoys holding your hand more and anything.

behind closed doors shes a little bit bolder, but still shy overall. she’s not sure if she’s moving too fast for you so she waits until you initiate any type of physical contact, then takes it from there herself. it took her a long time before she managed to get the courage to kiss you tbh

one time when you two were in her office, amber walked in on you “distracting” jean from her work.

“y/n, i have to get back to work, please,” jean adverted her eyes from your gaze, embarrassed. she kept looking at the door, mentally asking herself if the door was locked or not and getting more nervous as the seconds passed.

you sat straddled on the young womans lap, her hands loosely placed on your hips. holding her face in your hands, you guided her face back to yours. “you work for way too long,” you frowned. “and i’m bored. there’s nothing to do in here.”

“the library is just across the hall—“

“if i read another book my brain will implode.” jean sighed and shook her head.

“please indulge in me just this once? please jean?” she stared at you blankly, her resolve quickly deteriorating. a couple of kisses couldn’t hurt, could it? she looked up at the clock in the corner of the room, then back at you.

sighing for the umpteenth time that day, she nodded. “just for a little while-“

before she could finish speaking, you pressed your lips to hers hurriedly, not wanting to waste any time. jean barely ever separated herself from her work, and refused to accept help from anyone else. you almost never had time alone with the acting grand master— you weren’t going to miss your chance now.

the kiss was not heated whatsoever, just very.. clumsy. and needy. on your part, at least. jean tried her best to slow you down, gripping your hips as her face heated up.

“jean, lisa needs you for somethi- oh,” amber nearly dropped the papers in her hands, immediately covering her eyes with it instead. you whipped your head around and stared at the girl wide-eyed before she spoke up again. “d-did i come at a bad time? i am so sorry, i’ll um. i’ll go now.”

jean couldnt look her in the eyes for WEEKS

it was painful

but overall, she likes physical affection, shes just nervous :,)

amber

amber LOVES touching you!! she’s 100% okay with pda. she isnt as forward as maybe kaeya or lisa, but she’s still rather bold. sometimes she forgets youre in public too, which ends up drawing a lot of attention to the both of you.

when you two go out on dates she is always touching you. hand in hand, arm around waist, whatever. theres always some type of physical contact, no matter what.

it’s so PAINFULLY obvious that you two are dating but for some reason she didn’t think that anyone knew ?? one time huffman saw yall kissing in an alleyway u really aren’t slick🤨

she loves cheek and forehead kisses, but likes receiving them more than giving really. shes a hyper one, and these kisses fluster her enough to make her quiet down. ( it’s so cute )

she often picks you up to hug you, spinning you both around in circles in an almost bone crushing hug. other than those times her hugs are really soft, but the energy is still there. ^^

have i mentioned that she is affectionate?? because she really is. she does respect your boundaries though, but if you feel uncomfortable you’re going to have to speak up on it because she won’t notice.

in private her clinginess is amplified by 10.

“i’m trying to cook, amber,” you mumbled, struggling to stir the paste sauce in the pot. all you were trying to do was make dinner for the two of you, but around 5 minutes ago she came up behind you and wrapped her arms around your arms and torso. you could feel her bury her face further into your back.

“mhm, and it smells really good too,” she hummed. you groaned, and she just giggled.

“i’ll be done in like, 20 minutes, amber. you can hug barron bunny in the meantime,” you tried to pry her arms off of you but she started whining.

“that’s too long.”

“no, it isnt,” you turned around with a spoonful of pasta sauce, motioning for her to open her mouth. she slurped the sauce and gave you a thumbs up.

“see? its good, right? well it wont get much better if you keep clinging to me so much,” she stayed quiet, but at least loosened her arms around you so that it was easier to move. you lightly patted her hand. “thank you.”

“whateverrr,” she drawled, and you couldnt help but laugh.

the pasta was in fact very good

in the end, shes the exact opposite of jean, and youll need to slow her down a lot :,)

albedo

as far as physical contact goes, it’s literally the last thing you will ever find on his mind. he’s too caught up with other things to think about physical affection

he does love you yes, but he doesnt show it through physical means. he does more gift giving, like when he sees a pretty flower that reminds him of you while going out to find starsilver shards.

if you want a hug or anything out of him you’re going to have to initiate it first— it’s foreign territory, and it’s not something he’s particularly interested in, so he doesnt feel the need to indulge in it

however the first time you two cuddle you can tell that he’s hooked. and he does a terrible job at hiding it.

now, he insists that you sit in his lap while he is taking notes because it “helps him focus better” and because “he’s so lonely”

we all know that aint true lmfao

he also really likes it when you play with his hair. please play with his hair, especially when you want him to get away from his studies. physical contact is completely foreign to him so something as simple as a scalp massage will make him melt 🛐

whenever he refuses to get away from his work, sucrose always asks you to step in because he wont listen to her

“y/n,” sucrose quietly approached you as you conversed with kaeya. you turned to her and nodded, albiet a bit concerned. sucrose never really needed you for anything, what did she need now that she couldn’t do herself?

kaeya took this as his sign to leave, but not before giving you a quick pat on the head. “yes, sucrose?” you said. “did something happen?”

she nodded meekly, watching kaeya walk off. a little bubble of guilt formed in her stomach from interrupting. “ah, i need your help with something. you see, mr albedo has been doing research non-stop on a new thing that has caught his eye since yesterday afternoon. i’ve tried to get him to put his research on pause, but,” she adjusted her glasses. “he doesn’t listen to me. i was hoping if you could maybe convince him to take care of himself?”

you pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. he was doing it again. but you couldnt really blame him, he was terrible at keeping his hyperfixations under control. “i’ll take care of him, sucrose. don’t worry.”

she visibly relaxed at your words. sucrose flashed you a smile of gratitude, then waved and walked off to finish her errands in mondstadt.

—

it didn’t take him very long to notice your presence behind him. you were practically glaring at him, but there was no true anger behind it. wordlessly, albedo turned around in his chair and looked up at you.

you crossed your arms. “albedo,” you started, and it took everything in him not to sigh at the inevitable lecture.

“sucrose sent you, did she not?” he propped his arm up on the armrest of his chair, leaning his face into his hand as he gazed at you nonchalantly.

“of course she did. why aren’t you taking breaks?” he turned his chair back around, but you sat on the desk he was working at. you placed your hand on top of his papers and he shot a glare at you. it didnt phase you in the slightest.

“i have work to do. it’s much easier to do it all at once than stop inbetween.”

“have you at least been taking care of your basic needs? when was the last time you ate, or drank water?”

your eyes softened when he looked away.

hopping off of the desk, you grabbed his hand and pulled him away from his work ( gently, of course ). he barely protested.

you started muttering about how he needs to take better care of himself while pouring him a cup of water and making him a simple sandwich. he was a bit disappointed in himself for making you worry, and ate the food you gave him guiltily.

you pinched his cheek as he ate, giving it a light tug. he slapped your hand away playfully and a bit of the guilt he felt lifted when he heard your laugh. “i’m sorry you have to go through this for me.”

you shook your head. “you just need to learn how to stop yourself. you’re smart albedo, i’m sure you’ll figure it out in no time.”

he finished eating his food and, uncharacteristically, pulled you in for a hug. albedo rested his forehead against your shoulder, relaxing even further when you weaved your fingers through his hair.

“...i’m sorry, y/n.”

“stop apologizing.”

“okay. sorry. oh-”

you laughed.

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Lucky Lucky Me...

Suna x F! Reader, Miya Twins x F! Reader.

Ok so this is actually a little spin off for a non fandom fic i have 💕. I thought it was a cool idea and all i can think about is Suna right now so yeah. If you want more let me know ^#^ , or ill just keep it to myself . 💕

It was friday morning and the room was littered with posters of characters from video games and figures all over a bookshelf in the corner of the room. A giant tv sat across from the bed with a PS4 and a Switch neatly placed in the shelves along with games and guides and artbooks.  The windows had special curtains that blocked out the sun making the room more dark than it needed to be. The door creaked open and a hallway light was brought in making you whine in your sleep pulling the blanket over your head.  The two figures smirked at each other as they made their way to you .

   The grey haired one crouched down by your head and the blond haired one dipped a knee onto the bed. They chuckled at the little groan you did and poked all over the lump of blankets that was you talking amongst themselves.

 “Seems so tired”

“All those games yeah?”

“And to think I made some tasty omelette just for her..”

“Osamu, ill eat it”

“Pft.. okay Atsumo , “

 The twins lightly grabbed the blanket and whipped it off, scaring the living hell out of you.  Both brothers jumped you, wrestling you into the bed and all you could do was curse and fight them till Osamu fell off the bed laughing. Atsumo pinned you to the bed smirking and you stuck out your tongue at him.

“Let me UP nii-san!”

 “Osamu, she wants me to get off her”

 Osamu sat criss cross on the floor laying his head on the bed smiling at you with heavy lazy eyes speaking a little condescendingly. “ oh? Are you actually going to go to school today if we let you up ?”

 “Is that what this is about ?” you asked, still fussing under your brother. 

“We know you dont like to y/n but you gotta go.” Atsumo told you as he sat down on your stomach. “Pleaseeeee? , you still need to join the video game club ya know”

“Nii-sans…” 

 Atsumo pouted at his brother and the two fell on you refusing to get up anytime soon. Everyone was late to school.

***

School was … the last place you wanted to be. You were a first year and had little to no friends, everyone knew you as the girl who played video games all day and did not talk to anyone.  You did not mind too much because it's not like you needed friends anyway, you just needed your brothers… right ?

  The twins were third years and the star football players of the school. Atsumo the linebacker and Osamu the quarterback.  They got many trophies for the school and were praised everywhere they went. But they were not completely cocky about it, both twins were very down to earth in their normal lives and only saw football as a pastime.  If they were not in class they were on the field tossing the ball back and forth or being pulled under the bleachers or into closets by the slutty third years. 

   Classes were anything but enjoyable for you: you stuck to the back focusing on your work and not paying attention to anyone. Should you join the video game club…? Was it that big of a deal? Akagi was in the club … so it can't be that bad right ?

  After class you decided to just go and see what it was all about. It was on the third floor and just getting up the stairs was a bitch since it was three flights, by the time you got up there you were leaning on the doorway trying to ease the pressure on your aching legs.

   The Twins spotted you and ran over squeezing you so tight you could not breath for a second, they smelled like sweat and a hint of perfume.. Like always. 

 “Nii-sansss…..” 

 The two let go of you and Osamu pointed down the hall to an open door.

“Club is in there,” Osamu said.

“So go join , we will be waiting in the car” Atsumo ruffled your hair and the two walked past you, Atsumo sliding down the rail of the stairs with Osamu walking behind him.

**

Akagi noticed you first , he saw you peeking in through the door and ran over grabbing you, giving you a bear hug dragging you all excited. “y/n!!! y/n!! Are you finally gonna join huh huh huh??”

 “Akaaagiii!!!!!” 

 He let you go but just hugged you again till you finally slipped away bumping into a desk. “Jeeze… ‘

“Aww y/n,”

“Can i join please..”

“Oh thats not up to me.”

“.. its not ?”

A tall black haired kid got up from his chair , the tv said WINNER on it. He turned to see you and Akagi.  He had a tired look on his face, looking almost like he did not care for the noise you and Akagi caused . He sighed rubbing the bandage that was all the way up his arm from his wrist to his shoulder as he spoke. “You must be.. The Miya twins sister.” he asked, going over to you taking in your presence and rolling his eyes.

“Yeah i uh.. Wanted to join”

 “Oh yeah?” he held a controller in front of your face. “Best two outta three”

The nerves you had were long gone after he said that. You took the controller agreeing and Akagi set up the game.

The controller the black haired kid was holding was in half , one half on the floor and the other in his hand clicking under his grip from the squeezing. The tv said WINNER Y/N on it, you had one all three rounds..

  Slowly you looked over at Akagi and he just shook his head and put his hands up. Quickly you got up setting the controller down to leave. This was a mistake. You shouldn't be here… As soon as you got up he dropped the controller and whipped around grabbing your shoulders sitting you back down holding you in place.

“How”

“Uhh!! I watch alot of strategy stuff. I'm sorry!! I'll pay for the controller!”

He eased up letting your shoulders go and ran his hands through his hair. “Ah fuck, you can join, youll be the only first year , its just me and Akagi right now.”

“i .. i can-”

“But. this weekend , come over and show me those strategy videos, i'm sure your brothers won't mind” he leaned down flashing you a lazy smile. “Names Suna.”

 “O..i okay but.. The controller”

 He lightly pat your head, making you blush. “Dont worry about it ill see you saturday, Dont be late”

[peachiikawa]

Hey, I saw your requests are open and I was wondering if you could do a Bakugou x fem!reader where for some reason the reader left her phone alone and Bakugou got a bit nosy and went on it and the last app she had open was tumblr on her messages however you know how all messages are on the left side so it looks like that’s a incoming message if that was on normal texting well what if he read them and the reader was texting one of her friends saying if she is unhappy in her relationship (1/3)

And if her boyfriend isn’t making her happy and making her feel degraded then she needs to break up with him but Katsuki thinks that’s a message what she received even tho it’s one she sent to a friend and he’s actually lowkey hurt and confused because he thought things were going good between him and the reader and he knows he’s not the most affectionate but he does love her so he’s big confusion on why she feels this way and because he read the part about saying she should break up with 2/3 Her bf he thinks reader is gonna break up with him so normally he would be going out to train with kiri that night but he cancels and asks reader if they want to go to her dorm and watch and movie were he just has her laying on top of him cuddling her tighter than normal cos he’s like if this is the last time he’s gonna get to do this he’s gonna make it count so the reader is confused on why he’s acting to strange so she asks and he’s like “do you still want to be with me” clearly glossy eyed🥺 (¾) (sorry I couldn’t fit this on 3 posts) and then she’s really confused on why he’s even questioning that and she’s like of course why would you say that and he’s telling her not to lie just to make him happy cos he’s seen the messages and grabs her phone and shows her and that’s when she’ll explain how that’s her username sending them and just a fluffy ending please I cant handle too much angst🥺💚💚💚💚

omg anon this is cute but also my hEart

so bakugo and you were just straight chillin in his dorm room whatchin some tv doing a little homework overall just enjoying each others presence

after so long though you had to use the bathroom and when you left you set your phone down but forgot to lock it

naturally bakugo saw it was unlocked and couldnt fight the temptation to see what was on it

and what he saw almost broke his heart

“if youre unhappy in your relationship and your boyfriend isnt making you happy and is making you feel degraded then you need to break up with him”

is this how you truly felt?

he literally couldn’t believe his eyes

he had thought everything was going so well where has it gone wrong?

he would have drowned more in his thoughts had he not heard you flushing the toilet

he quickly fumbled with your phone before putting it back down onto the table

you, being none the wiser, just sat back down next to him and continued your homework

and even though bakugo looked like he was just chilling on the outside he was internally screaming on the inside

the next few days he was really dejected just trying to figure out what to do

he came up with the idea of just watching a movie together in his dorm

if you were going to break up with him soon he damn well is going to get the most out of the time he has left

so he actually canceled training with kirishima

“bro cmon youre being weird lets train to get your mind off of whatever is bothering you”

“no leave me alone i have something to do”

bakugo then shut the door in a very confused, very concerned kirishimas face

when you came that night you were immediately engulfed in bakugos arms

you noticed throughout the movie that his hold on you was tighter than usual

and whenever you looked up at him he you could tell he wasnt really watching the movie

so you wiggled your way out of his arms so you could face him

“katsuki, whats wrong?”

you cupped his face, hoping to get a genuine answer out of him

his hand reached for the one that was on his cheek and gripped it like today would be the last day hed see you

you could feel the trembling sensation coming from his hand

his head was hung low

“y/n be honest with me, do you still want to be with me?”

this question shocks you

and when he raises his head to look at you waiting for your answer youre actually speechless

his eyes had a clear gloss on them

he is terrified for your answer

and the silence is only making him shake more

“katsuki i love you so much why would you ask that?”

youre holding his head between your hands now hoping to calm him down a bit

hes letting a few tears escape his eyes along with a breath he was holding for way too long

he then pushes you away and raises his voice a bit

“dont fucking lie to me y/n i saw your messages i saw what your friend was saying, about how you arent happy with our relationship and how you want to break up. youre always one to do things for other people but dont lie to me to make me happy.”

you stare at him with scrunched eyebrows and a confused look

“what the hell are you talking about?”

he then reaches for your phone and shows you the conversation he was talking about

“this is what i’m fucking talking about! this shit right here! i know you’ve been questioning our relationship so dont fuck around anymore and just break up with me already!”

shit wait no he doesnt want to lose you

thats not what he wanted to say

“katsuki…i can explain”

fuck here it comes

he held his eyes shut maybe hoping that the impact of what youll say next wont hurt as much

“tumblr has a weird way of setting up its texts. so that message is actually one i sent to my friend.”

you took the phone out of his clenched hand touching him softly so that he would loosen his grip

“see that username right there? thats me.”

wait what

he couldnt believe what he was hearing

and he takes the deepest sigh of relief that hes ever taken

then he looks at you and pulls you into a warm, secure hug

“thank god y/n i was so scared you wanted to break up with me”

hes squeezing you so hard but you dont say anything

“i love you so much and seeing that text made me absolutely terrified. i dont know what id ever do without you”

you hug him back as he finishes his thoughts

once hes done you look up at him and poke his forehead

he rolls his eyes you always do this when he overthinks things

“you fire brained dummy youre one of the best things thats ever happened to me dont you ever doubt that”

[fixaidea]

Paris, 1840

It was in the early days of the year 1840 when Monsieur Nicolas Barré, a young, moderately successful novelist fell in with Augustin Perrault and his group of friends. Perrault, done with University, was pursuing a career in journalism and met M. Barré for work related reasons. The working relationship quickly turned into friendship (a quick and easy thing with the young journalist), and soon enough, over a shared glass of wine, Perrault invited him to meet up with the rest of his closest friends.

‘I must say’ Nicolas huffed, clinking his glass against Perrault’s ‘Whatever you told your friends about me, they better lower their expectations. Sure I’m a delight, a true treat to have around’ he winked ‘But political I am not. Not nearly as much as you are.’

Perrault waved his hand in airy dismissal.

‘Never fear. You are no monarchist, and that is all they need. Clavier is more hands-on when it comes to politics but the rest like to hold such issues at arm’s length. No one will begrudge you for not keeping a pet guillotine in your backyard.’

Nicolas chuckled and refilled their glasses.

‘So you’re telling me buying a closetful of red caps to impress them was a waste? Ah well. Now, we are men of the pen, you and I, even if we employ our words quite differently. How about the rest? All writers?’

‘Alain Clavier certainly is, he’s a playwright. Well, in theory at least. In reality he’s a true Renaissance man, doing all things Theatre. Manager, designer, stand-in actor, all of it. René Giraud is an engineer, or rather, currently an assistant to one, Yves Belarbre is a painter. A portraitist, but he has some novel ideas about painting dreams, you’ll see.’

After a couple of more glasses Perrault announced that he still had some obligations to attend to. Just as they were about to part, he turned to Nicolas.

‘I must warn you about one of my friends though, Giraud. He has some peculiar habits, but the one that most concerns you is that he’s rather picky about who gets to touch him. He’s going to allow a handshake, but do not attempt anything more. If he takes a shine to you, he will come to you in his own time.’

Nicolas smiled and nodded, although he did not understand why he needed such a warning – certainly he was affectionate, but nowhere near as much as Perrault, pawning at random strangers was usually not the first thing on his mind. Surely keeping his hands off of one would not be much of a hardship. His nonchalance regarding the matter lasted exactly until the moment of meeting the man in question. René Giraud was on the shorter end of average height, thin and tired looking and, at least in Nicolas’ humble opinion, utterly adorable. He had fluffy, white-blond hair and big, pensive blue eyes.

They did not get to talk too much that first day – as Nicolas later learned this was not simply because Perrault and his friend Alain Clavier dominated every single conversation they took part in, but also because of Giraud’s own quiet nature. Still, all through the evening Nicolas kept sneaking glances at the man and, to his immense satisfaction, found himself being watched in turn. Just before the company disbanded for the night, Giraud sidled up to him. He cocked his head to the side and spoke, eyes fixed on the floor:

‘What do you call a medical-minded dog?’

Caught off guard, Nicolas scratched his beard.

‘I have no idea. What indeed?’

‘Un physi-chien*’

Nicolas blinked. For a moment he was not sure if he truly heard what he did, but René was watching him expectantly out of the corner of his eye. Nicolas’ big body began to shake and soon he was howling with laughter. Giraud, proud of his work, bounced on his heels and smiled, blushing with joy. Nicolas raised his hand to clap him on the back, but caught himself in time and hastily showed his fist into his pocket.

He wiped off his tears. That was it. He needed to win his René-touching privileges as soon as possible.

***

It was the end of May, but the weather resembled the worst of August and Nicolas was painfully stuck. Again. His serialised novel was running out of pre-written chapters at an alarming rate, he needed to catch up with it and soon. He could practically feel his editor breathing down his neck. He was sating at a blank page. In fact, he had been doing just that for the last half an hour, but the words stubbornly refused to manifest. With a deep sigh of defeat he donned his lightest coat and hat. If inspiration would not come on its own, the best he could do was to try and seek it out. After a brief consideration he headed to the Louvre.

He regretted his decision to leave the flat the moment he stepped out of his building. The streets were scorching hot, vibrating above the cobblestones. Dust filled the air and the sun was so blinding, that without the straw hat to protect his eyes, Nicolas doubted he would be able to see a thing. Still, he steeled himself and faced the inferno of the city.

He was richly rewarded for his effort – the inside of the museum was shady and blessedly cool. Few people took the effort or had the time to drag themselves here at his hour, so it was also mostly deserted. He sighed again, this time in relief, and was about to zone out and let himself get lost in the centuries of art surrounding him, when out of the corner of his eye he spotted a familiar mop of blond hair. René Giraud was sitting on a bench, an open notebook in his hands, though when Nicolas stepped closer he noticed he was staring at his feet rather than at the pages. He started when Nicolas greeted him.

‘Ah, hello there, Monsieur Barré! I mean. Nicolas.’

Nicolas smiled and plopped down beside him. He was pleased René was finally gave up on the formal ‘you’ with him, even if he still called him by his surname sometimes.

‘You must be quite the patron of arts to cross the city on such a wretched day just to look at pictures! Or are you, like me, in need of inspiration for something?’

‘Neither, I’m afraid’ René answered. He kept his gaze on his notebook. When they first met Nicolas wondered if he did this because he did not like him or was especially flustered in his presence, but had since come to learn that this was simply something he did with everyone. Avert his eyes or, remembering that you ought to look people in the eye, fix his unblinking gaze upon you.

‘I am here exactly because the day is wretched’ René went on ‘My quarters are unbearable and so are the streets. Everything seems to be so much more intense in this horrible weather. The people are loud and irritable and they stink. I stink, the horses stink, I can barely see, everything is bleached white by the sun, even the sky. It’s either white or that unsettling shade of lilac.’

‘Lilac? I never noticed that.’

‘It is though. A pale lilac. I find it deeply disturbing. Here though…’ he looked up ‘Here it’s cool and quiet and the smells are subdued. I like this place.’

‘Still, it must be boring to just sit here. Walk with me?’

Nicolas thought of offering his hand as they got up, but René was on his feet before him. They wandered the halls in silence for a while. Nicolas knew his friend was not exactly loquacious, but he wondered if this silence was stretching too far. Testing the waters, next time he spotted a particularly interesting painting he stopped before it and quietly started to explain what he knew about it. With others, he tried to guess what the artist might have meant, making up stories on the spot, one wilder and more colourful than the rest. René mostly kept quiet, but seemed to be enjoying himself none the less. Every now and then he inserted his own small remarks or chuckled lightly at Nicolas’ jokes. Encouraged by this, Nicolas was gaining momentum, spinning one astounding, ridiculous tale after the other, compensating for the low voice he kept with sweeping gestures and exaggerated expressions. Soon René was pressing his hand against his mouth, his whole body shaking with the laughter he desperately fought to hold in.

And then he froze.

His smile faltered and slowly disappeared as something behind Nicolas caught his eyes. Nicolas turned, following his gaze.

They were standing in front of a large painting. The canvas was populated by a crowd of figures, faces and bodies contorted by the pain of grief. In the centre, a male figure, a warrior, cradling the body of his fallen companion, face twisted into a mask of anguish.

‘Achilles and Patroclus.’ René whispered.

Nicolas nodded. He waited for his friend to turn away and move on, but he seemed to be hypnotised by the painting. They stood there in silence for a long while, before René finally spoke again.

‘I envy him, in a way.’

‘Who? I cannot for the life of me think of a single enviable character in that story.’

‘Patroclus. How much Achilles loved him, unashamed. He was no dirty little secret.’

It took the both of them a moment to fully realise what he just said. René, scrambling to save face, blushing so fiercely it was visible even in the dim light of the museum, and rushed to continue:

‘I-I mean it’s a touching story no matter how you look at it, I mean, anyone would be grateful for such loyalty from a friend…’

Nicolas took a deep breath and, momentarily forgetting himself, laid a hand on René’s arm. The little engineer froze. Nicolas quickly released him.

‘I understand.’

René peered up at him from under his curls.

‘Do you? Truly?’

Blood was rushing into Nicolas’ face and he suddenly felt very light and somehow detached from his body, as if he was watching the conversation from afar. Still, his friend laid his soul bare before him, if only on accident, he had to know he was not alone.

‘I do. I understand what you meant.’

René kept his big eyes fixed on him for a moment then slowly, so slowly, reached out and laid his hand on his arm. Nicolas’ heart leapt to his throat – carefully he raised his own had and covered René’s with it. They held the connection for a second before René stepped back. He cleared his throat.

‘I must be going now, I have some plans I need to double check. Thank you for this afternoon.’

‘My pleasure’ said Nicolas, eyes fixed on his toes ‘See you back at our café?’

‘Yes. Yes, certainly.’

***

Nicolas wondered if things will change between them and indeed, there was a small but noticable shift in their interactions. Nothing dramatic – unlike Augustin, Nicolas still was not allowed to just walk up to René and cuddle him. Though of course he never tried. Still, at least René would now touch him every now and then. Nothing too personal or overly familiar, rather he simply did not go out of his way anymore to avoid contact. Nicolas tried a little bit of flirting but as the engineer did not respond – or even seemed to notice his attempts – he soon ceased.

It was now July, and Nicolas was in the middle of revising his latest chapter (or more precisely re-arranging the bookshelves while thinking very hard about how he should be revising said chapter) when the knock came. He left the bookshelf somewhat begrudgingly – he was hard at work, creating, how dare people hinder his genius! – and went to answer it, grumbling all the way. He schooled his features into what he hoped was a polite but slightly haughty expression and he opened the door.

The corridor was empty.

Nicolas rolled his eyes – was the half a minute it took him to get to the door truly too long a wait for his visitor? He was about to retreat when he noticed a sheet of paper at his feet. A message then? A prank? A strongly worded appeal from his editor? It turned out to be neither. It was a poem. It was not written in pen, but in letters carefully cut out from a newspaper and glued to a sheet.

TO THE LOVE I DARE NOT NAME

FROM THE SHADOWS I SING YOUR PRAISES SCRAMBLING IN VAIN FOR THE RIGHT PHRASES YOU ARE ROUND AND WARM LIKE THE SUN IN JUNE THE COPPER OF YOUR HAIR IS THE CAUSE OF MY DESPAIRE

HAVE MERCY ON ME, O MUSE

He read it – and read it again. And again. It seemed to be a sincere if terrible love poem. Nicolas tugged at his beard. Was this dedicated to him? The mention of the subject’s bodily proportions and hair colour suggested so, but he was still uncertain. Humming lightly, he folded up the paper and got back to work. He resolved to show the strange little letter to his friends and thought nothing of it for the rest of the day.

When he did in fact pull the sheet out on their next get-together, the reaction of the group was, in the mildest possible terms, explosive. Alain ripped the letter out of his hand and studied it for several minutes, muttering to himself all the way through, before he was forced to relinquish it to a nagging Augustin, and then to Yves. René, reserved as ever, did not attempt to grab for the page, but followed the proceedings with eager eyes.

‘Well then’ Nicolas said ‘What do you gentlemen make of it?’

‘Why, my dear fellow’ said Augustin, leaning back in his seat ‘It is quite obvious. You have a secret admirer!’

Nicolas propped his chin on his hand and laughed.

‘Well, there’s no debating I’m a right catch, any lady would agree I’m sure, but don’t you think it more likely that this would be a nervous amateur trying to show his work off? Maybe try and get a foot in the door of publishing through me?’

Yves waved a hand with a little huff of dismissal.

‘Quite unlikely. If this were a poet interested in getting his name known, surely he would have included just that: his name! No my dear, this is quite obviously a love-stricken if unusually daring and forward lady!’

‘A true little firebrand!’ Alain exclaimed.

René remained quiet. Nicolas searched his face with a slight flicker of hope for any sign that he might be the one behind it, but then dismissed the idea. He could not picture him resigning himself to such bold a move.

‘All right then’ he said, folding up the sheet ‘I suppose my best bet now is to wait and see.’

And see he did. The very next day, about the same time, the knock sounded again. Nicolas, hard at work on his novel (he was cleaning his windows), took some time to answer, so the mysterious visitor was long gone by the time he got to the door. In her – his? wake he left an elegant box of high-end pralines. Nicolas inspected the gift for a message, but found none.

Well then. This certainly seemed to underline the ‘secret admirer’ theory, opposed to the ‘hopeful amateur poet’. Smiling to himself, Nicolas plopped a piece into his mouth and retreated. Excitement was starting to bubble up in his belly – who could this be? Sure, he had his secret hopes for a certain engineer, but with all his loveable qualities, René just did not look like the type for grand romantic gestures. Who else then? Nicolas made a list of all the ladies and gentlemen he knew, but found it entirely unhelpful. He had half a mind to drop everything and go seek out Augustin, even though they were not meant to meet up that day, but decided against it. The group regularly met on Tuesday and Friday nights, sometimes on weekends, and it was only Wednesday. Let’s not rush anything, let’s wait and see what happens next!

Thursday brought him a nice set of steel-tipped pens, complete with ink, all tied up with a bow. Now Nicolas was all but crawling out of his skin with excitement and resolved to catch the person responsible in the act.

On Friday he was fully expecting the knock, but he made a fatal mistake. The weather turned damp and cold, so Nicolas decided to make himself a cup of tea as he waited. The problem was only that his visitor was a full hour early compared to the previous days, so he had a kettle full of boiling water in his hands when the knock came, and by the time he managed to carefully put it down without spilling any of it on himself, his mysterious suitor was gone again. In their wake they left a bouquet.

Nicolas snatched it up and inspected it excitedly. It was a nicely arranged collection of reds, blues and yellows. On a whim, Nicolas quickly averted his eyes. He was keen to find out what message might be coded in there in the flirty language of flowers, but he wanted to decipher it in the presence of his friends. He placed the bouquet in a vase and resolved not to look at it for the rest of the day.

It was an excruciating exercise in temperance and patience and he came close to failing several times, sneaking glances at it every now and then, but miraculously he persisted. Still, it felt like the longest day of his life. He tried to proceed with his writing, but his thought kept floating back to the mysterious gifts and the sound of footsteps fading in the hallway.

When the clock finally struck five he practically flew out the door and did not stop until he reached their café, the Poule Rouge. René was already there, nursing a cup of coffee at his usual seat. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Nicolas flung himself down beside him. He looked up – only be greeted by a mass of flowers shown in his face.

‘From your admirer?’ he asked around the clump of vegetation.

‘I’m assuming yes!’ said Nicolas, leaning in close ‘What do you think?’

René regarded him solemnly for a long moment, then looked down.

‘I think it’s pretty. It has happy colours. I think whoever gave it to you wanted you to be happy.’

Nicolas could feel his lips stretch into a grin. He was about to answer but Alain’s booming voice cut him off. The man entered with Yves on one arm, Augustin on the other. Nicolas held up the bouquet like a trophy.

‘Well, well, well’ said Alain as he slid into the seat across Nicolas and pressed a cup of wine into his hands ‘What have we here?’

The three newcomers – all experts in courtship and all the delicacies it involved – pulled the bouquet into the middle of the table and began to pour over it. Nicolas watched in excitement, but his enthusiasm began to falter as their faces fell. After a couple of minutes they sat back and exchanged some deeply confused glances.

Yves scratched the back of his head.

‘Well this… All right, let’s see. The good news is the cornflower, which means wealth and fortune, the yellow rose, which stands for joy and friendship and the blue iris for faith and hope. But we also have marigold for jealousy and yellow carnation for disappointment and rejection. Also red poppies which mean consolation. So. There’s that.’

Alain propped his chin on his hand.

‘It might not mean anything at all.’

‘No no no, let’s not give up on this so quickly’ said Augustin ‘The lady went out of her way to play this intricate game, surely there must be some sort of message in there. So what do we have? Wealth, friendship or joy, consolation, hope or faith but also jealousy and either disappointment or rejection. This to me speaks of someone who was for some reason disappointed in you, but who values your friendship more than her pride and has hope in repairing your relations. It’s simple!’

‘I don’t think that’s it, not at all’ Yves objected ‘Look at this closely! The poppies and the yellow carnations out-weight the rest – to me, that says the sender has been disappointed to the degree she wants to now part ways. She includes the rose, the iris and the cornflower as a reminder to why she started this game to begin with, but does not wish to continue.’

A heavy lump settled into Nicolas’ throat. Still, he tried to hide his disappointment, so he arranged his features into a smile and laughed.

‘Well, I suppose we shall see about that. We’ll find out if she truly wishes to quit before long – tomorrow at the latest. If the gifts cease I can assume the lady truly meant it and lost interest.’

Soon the topic was changed as Augustin brought up a play he was interested in seeing and the rest of the evening was spent with amicable chatter, though René excused himself early. He had not spoken a single word all evening and after a quick round of goodbyes he hurried away without explanation. As he retreated Nicolas could have sworn he had seen him rubbing at his face.

Nicolas for his part was crestfallen. The presence and chatter of his friends took away the edge of the blow but he was sad to see this interesting affaire come to an end. Not to mention he had no idea what he did wrong to put off his secret admirer this much. With one last sigh he downed his wine. Ah, well. It was nice while it lasted.

The next day he all but managed to put his disappointment out of his mind, though a shard of it was still lodged in his heart like a persistent thorn. He tried to concentrate on his work, failed, tried again, failed, gave up and went for a walk. He went all the way to the Jardin de Luxembourg in hopes of clearing his mind. He was in great need of that – he wrote himself into a corner and had no idea how to rescue his own heroine. Sadly the fragrant air of the park failed to deliver any flashes of inspiration, so with a heavy heart he returned to his flat.

He was almost through the door when a flash of red caught his eye.

A red rose was lying on his threshold. Nicolas carefully picked it up and turned it over in his hand. There was a note attached to it, composed in the same manner the very first poem was, of letters and words cut out from a newspaper.

I HAD NO IDEA FLOWERS MEANT THINGS. THIS IS WHAT I MEANT.

Nicolas stood there, rooted to the threshold for a long time, grinning.

Now he was almost certain of his mysterious admirer’s identity, but still, he was curious about the reactions of his friends. When he entered the tavern the company gathered that night he held aloft the flower like a banner of victory.

‘Confess, gentlemen’ he said ‘Which one of you tattled?’

The rest looked back at him with wide, all-too innocent eyes.

‘What makes you accuse us so?’ Alain asked in the high-pitched, affronted voice of a man who had carried the gossip over half of Paris already. Nicolas showed him the rose and the letter attached.

‘That doesn’t prove anything’ Yves muttered, though he too was reluctant to meet his eyes ‘Your lady may have learned of her mistake independent of our conversation yesterday.’

‘But in such short a notice? Gentlemen, if not someone you passed the news on to, I’m forced to believe it might be one of you!’

Yves and Alain protested loudly, Augustin did not comment, merely shook his head with an amused grin. René, Nicolas noted with some cautious hope, was beet red and refused to move his gaze from his drink.

***

The next week went by without further communication from his suitor. Nicolas was beginning to fear he might have scared him (…or maybe her) away.  He was close to despair when finally, on a rather wet, gloomy Saturday the tell-tale knock sounded again. Nicolas raced to catch him, but as usual, his visitor was quicker. He left a letter behind, this time written in ink but in all capital letters so Nicolas still could not recognise the handwriting.

DEAREST,

MEET ME AT THE PÈRE-LACHAISE, AT THÉODORE GÉRICAULT’S TOMB, ONE O’CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON.

This time he did not wait for the agree-upon get-together, he flagged down a coach and raced all the way to Augustin’s lodgings. Luckily he found the man at home and, upon being let in, quickly pushed the letter into his hands.

‘Look at this!’

Contrary to his exuberant enthusiasm so far, Augustin frowned and scratched his head.

‘This could be very good or very bad news. All through this little adventure I had a feeling that all this is way too daring, shameless even, for a lady.’

Nicolas did not wish to draw unneeded attention to the fact that he was quite all right with the mysterious suitor being a man, so he merely hummed his agreement.

‘Still’ he said ‘What’s the worst that might happen?’

Augustin raised an eyebrow.

‘You could be ridiculed at best, robbed or even killed at worst. You will be in the middle of a graveyard. Secluded, with plenty of places for the members of a gang to hide.’

This gave Nicolas a pause.

‘None the less’ he finally said ‘I want to know who is behind this.’

‘At least permit me to go with you!’

Now it was Nicolas’ turn to frown and tug at his bear.

‘A kind offer, but I must decline. Actually…‘ he took a deep breath ‘I have a good idea who this might be, and in case I’m right, I do not want to compromise this person.’

Augustin chuckled lightly and swatted his arm.

‘A true gentleman! Very well then, but promise to be careful!’

Nicolas smiled and pressed his hand.

‘I promise!’

***

The graveyard was all but deserted – Nicolas came across a couple of elderly ladies, the sort that is a permanent fixture of cemeteries all over the world, but none of them paid any attention to him. Though he did ask for directions at the gate it still took him a long time to find Géricault’s grave in the dense labyrinth of tombs. When he finally did he found the scene deserted. Not a single sound, except for the distant murmur of the city beyond the graveyard’s walls. His stomach fell. Was all this an elaborate prank? All this for nothing? And the culprit would not even stick around to witness his humiliation?

He dejectedly kicked a pebble and was about to leave when there – just there behind the edge of the massive block of the monument – he spotter the rim of a top hat. In two quick strides he rounded the tomb.

René Giraud was standing there hunched over, dressed in his best dress coat and shiniest shoes. When Nicolas came to stand in front of him he made an attempt to raise his head and look him in the eye but the task proved too much for him. The rose clenched in his hand was trembling. He wordlessly held it out.

Warm fondness bubbled up in Nicolas’ chest. He yearned to pull René into a hug and never let him go again, but he knew better than to grab him without his consent. He took the professed rose and opened his arms. René shuffled closer, fisted Nicolas’ vest and hid his face in his chest. Slowly, carefully Nicolas completed the embrace. He took off his friend’s hat, set it and the rose aside and gently ran his fingers through his hair. René was trembling from head to toe – Nicolas could only imagine how much courage it must have taken him to go through with this plan. This courage evidently carried him to this point and no further. He looked ready to collapse on the spot. Nicolas held him tighter and began to rock him slowly, continuing to pet his hair.

They stood there for a long while, locked together in an embrace, gently swaying from side to side. Nicolas nuzzled René’s hair. The heart fluttering against his chest started to calm down a bit. Eventually René snuggled against him and spoke up.

‘I’m sorry about the first bouquet.’

‘Don’t be. I think it was beautiful, artificially assigned meanings be damned.’

René giggled and pulled back just enough to be able to rub the back of his neck. Not daring to initiate any other contact just yet, Nicolas quickly nuzzled his nose. René took a deep, shaky breath, latched on to Nicolas’ lapels and pecked him on the lips. Before Nicolas could react he ducked his head again.

Still carefully, as to not scare him away, Nicolas slid a finger under his chin. René allowed this and obediently tilted his head up at Nicolas’ gentle push. Emboldened, Nicolas cupped his cheeks and pressed their foreheads together. After a small pause he tilted his head to the side and kissed him. René’s lips were velvety soft and a little wet – he was clumsily pushing back against Nicolas, evidently unsure of what he was supposed to do. Nicolas slid his hands down onto his shoulders and moved on to kiss a line along his smooth cheeks and jaw. They broke apart, stepped back a bit – and dissolved in a fit of nervous giggles. Nicolas tried to stop but the laughter only intensified, relieved and yet slightly hysterical. Face burning, stomach flipping, Nicolas wiped at his wet eyes and swept René back into a tight embrace. René flung himself into his arms without hesitation. Nicolas smacked one more big, sloppy kiss on his cheek.

‘Sweet René’ he murmured ‘My sweet René.’

  *un chien = a dog

[inawickedlittletown]

Walking The Wire (106/?)

Summary: Tony Stark always knew about Peter Parker. He didn’t know that Peter was going to get superpowers and become Spider-Man, but he always knew about Peter because Peter was his son.

This will span from pre-Iron Man up through the rest of the MCU (eventually including Infinity War) and will be for the most part canon compliant except where I’ve taken some liberties and interpreted canon a certain way.

Pairings: Pepper/Tony, Tony/Steve (endgame), Tony/Mary (past)

A/N: If you want me to tag you when I post new chapters let me know. This fic is also on AO3

I used Collider’s MCU timeline to stay canon and the title of this fic is an Imagine Dragons song that is just so fitting for Peter and Tony

@findmeinthestarss

Masterpost

Chapter One Hundred Five

It turned out that having Michelle know he was Spider-Man and acknowledging that she did was a good thing. Michelle was just all that much better about covering for Peter. Just the other day when they’d gone on a small class trip and Peter had spotted a mugging happening, it was Michelle that had distracted everyone long enough for Peter to get away unnoticed and then again when he rejoined them.

The only thing about Michelle was that unlike Ned, she actually seemed concerned about what Peter got up to. She worried. It was weird especially when she pretended that she didn’t in person and then sent him long rambling texts about how he wasn’t being careful and how close he came to getting injured or hurting others.

It was all on par with how much coverage Spider-Man had started to get from the media which Peter didn’t particularly like. At first it had seemed cool to be mentioned on the news all the time and to have articles about Spider-Man popping up everywhere. His favorite were the YouTube videos since those were usually fun to watch mostly because they weren’t all made by anyone truly professional. But after a while, even those got old. It got annoying. Tony definitely disliked it.

“I just don’t like how interested everyone seems to be in finding out your identity,” his dad said while they were tinkering in the workshop. “It’s none of their business.”

Peter liked listening to him rant. It was kind of hilarious especially when one considered Tony’s own media presence basically his entirely life.

“And it’s not like we’ve announced that you’re an Avenger or anything but some reason they just seem to associate you with us.”

That’s when Steve spoke up. “That’s because they see you out and about with him all the time as Iron Man and Iron Man is an Avenger.”

“That isn’t the point,” Tony said.

“And also, Peter’s the only hero that’s popped up that has a hidden identity. Gives everyone a mystery to want to solve.”

Tony muttered some more and Peter tried not to laugh. He could tell that Steve was amused too.

Since all that stuff with The Vulture, Tony still did tend to show up when Peter needed help. He was better about letting Peter be involved in things especially when they didn’t involve alien tech. They had stopped some weird guy with what seemed to be some sort of power -- Tony said he was probably an inhuman -- just the other day from destroying a big portion of Greenwich Village. The guy hadn’t been doing it on purpose it turned out it. It was just that his powers were so unstable. Peter had been glad to have Tony there because he didn’t a single person could have handled everything that instance entailed. Even Vision had made an appearance for that. In the end they had subdued the guy and Tony had handed him over to a the new Shield.

“But also, it’s not just the identity thing,” Tony kept on, “it’s that there’s varying degrees of coverage. He’s good for the city. He’s a vigilante. He’s an Avenger. He’s not. It’s ridiculous. At least no one seems to have put together that I built your suit. Or at least no one’s written an article about it yet. And can you imagine if anyone found out I had a son? Because then they would definitely start questioning whether you were the one under the mask and then my parenting would come into question.”

It was no surprise to Peter that Ned loved it. He had a whole collection on articles written about him and he would send Peter the more outrageous ones and Peter would pass those on to Steve because Steve loved reading them too. May seemed to agree with Tony on the whole matter. But then, May also tended to try and get Peter to quit being Spider-Man altogether whenever she saw him and it wasn’t something that was ever likely to stop. She liked to bring up questions about school and girlfriends and college and how Spider-Man wouldn’t be an ideal addition to any of those as her way of asking him to stop.

As he stepped out of Midtown one afternoon, Peter was surprised when he spotted Tony complete with a baseball cap, sunglasses, a grin, and a thermal cup that probably contained coffee, leaning against a sleek black car that at least proved to be his least flashy. Still, no matter how hard he was trying, he looked out of place and people were noticing him.

Michelle who had walked out with him spotted Tony with no problem and when Peter glanced at her he could practically see her thinking. Her left eyebrow rose and she stared him down.

“Is Tony Stark actually picking you up right now?”

Peter shook his head. “Nope. It’s all in your imagination. You’re hallucinating.”

Michelle laughed -- cackled more like and Peter grinned back at her as she nudged him and rolled her eyes. Ned appeared then, busy with his backpack as he walked, and only managing to not run into anyone because anyone in his path dodged him.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“Your boy here is being picked up by Tony Stark. Fancy that. I bet Flash will be jealous.”

“Which is why I’m going to go before anyone else notices,” Peter said and rushed away. When he looked back Michelle waved and Ned grinned at him and gave him thumbs up.

“Hey,” Peter said when he was close enough.

“Hi, kiddo,” his dad said, “I was in the area so I figured I’d come by and get you. I was also sort of craving this apple crostini this one restaurant has so we’re going to have to make a stop for that. Up for it?”

Peter rolled his eyes but nodded. “Sure.”

They got into the car and when Peter looked out the window he realized that a few people were watching them. Someone must have caught onto Tony being there. Not that it really mattered since everyone knew that Peter had a Stark Internship. Of course, no intern could have ever expected for Tony Stark himself to show up to pick them up from school. He was definitely going to hear about it.

The restaurant Tony took them to was a hole in the wall that no one would have ever noticed and yet it was busy. A well known secret. Nevertheless, they were seated at a discrete table towards the back without much wait which told Peter that Tony had called ahead.

“Why are we really here?” Peter asked.

“I told you -- apple crostini. Also, remind me to order one to go because Steve would kill us if we don’t bring him one back. We used to come here sometimes back in the day.”

“Oh,” Peter said.

His dad never really talked about how he and Steve had come to be and Peter didn’t really have any questions or want to know details, but he loved when Tony slipped in something that hinted at a past memory. It made him realize how normal it all was in some ways. Sometimes, it was still shocking to think about Iron Man and Captain America in a romantic relationship or to consider that they were getting married until he thought about them as Tony and Steve -- his dad and his dad’s fiance.

“Truth is, I wanted to catch up with you,” Tony said. “Things have been a bit crazy lately. Haven’t really spent much time with you on our own. Steve or someone else is usually around.”

Peter hadn’t -- no, he’d noticed, it was just that he hadn’t minded. He’d never expected to have Tony to himself all the time and had felt lucky when he did even if then it had been broken up to a few hours here and there and now he was living in the tower and had access to Tony all the time and it didn’t really matter that there were other people around.   

“We can start with, who was the girl?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Who, Michelle? I’ve told you about her. She’s the one that figured out I’m Spider-Man all on her own.”

“MJ. You said someone named MJ did.”

“Michelle Jones. She likes to be called MJ. Anyway, that was her.”

Tony nodded. The waitress approached then and Tony ordered the apple crostinis and remembered to order the one to go as well without Peter needing to remind him.

“So she’s super smart and observant,” Tony said.

“Yup. Definitely knew it was you waiting for me. Actually, I think a few people figured it out.”

Tony shrugged with a grin. “And they can all wonder about what your internship entails once more.”

Tony started asking about how things were going in school next and Peter filled him in even though he was sure he’d mentioned some of it to him in passing over the last few weeks.

The apple crostini turned out to be amazing. He was in the middle of telling Tony about what they’d started working on in physics when it arrived and after one bite of the crunchy and flaky crust with the warm apple filling and the ice cream and Peter was in heaven.

“I told you so,” Tony said.

“This is the best thing ever,” Peter said.

It was nice to have some time on his own with Tony. Tony told him all about how the board members were driving him and Pepper crazy because they didn’t like that Tony’s concern wasn’t all about profit when it came to the prosthetic division even when it came to custom projects.

“It’s like they don’t understand how good the PR is although that obviously isn’t why we’re doing it.”

“But it’s your company,” Peter said.

“Pepper and I own more than half of the shares of the company, sure, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have to deal with the board of directors. It’s the side of business that I don’t particularly like. Pepper is awesome at it. It’s all stuff you’ll have to learn about if you want to take over the company one day--”

“Um, what?” Peter said and almost choked on a piece of apple.

Tony chuckled. “Won’t be for a while and it’s up to you if you want it. It’s not an obligation, you know. You could find your own Pepper Potts and have someone else run it if you prefer. I rather you do what you want than what you think I want you to do so--”

Peter had sort of forgotten about how Tony had broken the news to him what felt like ages ago even though it hadn’t even been a full year yet. He’d forgotten how Tony told him that he would inherit everything as if that had been the right way to let him know that Tony was his father. Since then, Peter hadn’t really thought about it or the reality of what it actually meant which meant that it was overwhelming information to take in.

“I -- that’s--”

“What, did you forget that I’m Tony Stark? You’re my heir, kid, to this whole crazy company and whatever else I’ve accumulated.”

“But what if -- what if you and Steve have kids?” Peter asked.

It wasn’t something he’d considered before that moment, but wasn’t that what people did after they got married? They went and had kids. Peter was aware that Tony and Steve were both men but there were ways around that -- surrogacy or adoption or other weirder things. It was possible. Peter didn’t know if -- well, he didn’t know if he’d be thrilled about it if they did have kids. He felt weird even just thinking about it.

“Not really something we’ve discussed,” Tony said and he seemed to notice that Peter seemed uncomfortable. “And even if we did decide to have kids it wouldn’t be for a long while, Pete.”

“Oh,” Peter said. But they could still have some even if Peter was fully grown when they did--

Tony grabbed his hand. Tony’s hand was warm and familiar and Peter allowed himself to calm down. “Peter, you’re my kid. I -- I love you, kid. Not something that will ever change. I’ll always be here for you no matter what. Even if Steve and I adopt a hundred kids. You’re still always going to be my son and you’re the most important person in my life.”

Peter hadn’t expected Tony to say that. Those three words. Tony had said them before, he was sure, but Peter couldn’t actually remember. He certainly hadn’t expected them in the moment.

“I don’t think even Steve will want to adopt that many kids,” Peter said.

“If he even wants to,” Tony said with a shrug. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t be opposed to another kid -- it’s just I’d be fine with just you.”

“Oh,” Peter said. “But you didn’t get to raise me. Not really. Don’t you want that -- the whole baby thing?” Peter didn’t really understand why people were so keen on babies. He knew they were cute but they also cried and made messes and couldn’t really do anything and he actually -- he couldn’t see Tony or even Steve dealing with a baby well.

“That doesn’t matter. Clearly, it doesn’t. You’re still my kid, Peter, and as has been established you clearly need me a lot too no matter what your age is.”

Peter nodded. “I kind of do,” Peter said and then because he couldn’t say anything else, “I, um, I love you too, dad.”

He thought that Tony’s eyes got a bit misty at that and Peter realized that he’d never actually said it out loud before. But it was true. It had been true for a while. Peter loved Tony. He loved his dad and everything that he was and did for Peter. He was one of the best people he knew and Peter would forever be glad that he knew who his father was and that it was someone as amazing as Tony Stark.

Chapter One Hundred Seven

[fucking-zawa-sensei]

hey i know youre busy and that you want to focus on dont kid yourself and you have other request so i know youll take your time to get to this, but for the fic request could you do some dad mic and dadzawa adopting eri?

Title: Not Without Trying, Chapter 1 of (3?)

Pairing: Erasermic – Shouta Aizawa|Eraserhead/Hizashi Yamada|Present Mic

Rating: T for Swearing

Categories: established relationship, adoption, angst, comfort, new parents, dadzawa, dadzashi, parenting

Word Count: 7,000+

Notes: I am terribly sorry this took nearly a month for me to get to. I hope it was worth the wait! I feel like you wanted a fluffy, feel good fic, but I ended up throwing a whole damn plot at this thing and now I’m writing a three chapter fic. This chapter is angst heavy, but don’t worry, they’ll adopt Eri and it will all be cute in the end! Typical me, huh? I have to turn everything into angst.

This chapter doesn’t have much Dadzawa in it, but it will come next chapter!

Don’t read this if you aren’t past the Overhaul arc in the manga.

This is slightly canon divergent in that Eri is in the hospital for longer than is implied in the manga, and moreover, while the manga has essentially ridden Eri quirkless for the foreseeable future, she has some ability to use her powers within this fic. Albeit, those abilities are very minimal, as I am sticking to the whole, “her horn is small and she used up all her energy” part of the manga story line.

Read it on Ao3 here

Not Without Trying: Chapter 1

Yamada had become familiar with the walk toEri’s hospital room over the past couple of weeks. There was the slightlyskewed pastel painting of a seashell on the shore, hanging from a nail in thewall right before the turn down the pediatric wing. Then he’d pass twelvedifferent doors with little cut out paper patterns scrawled with children’s’names taped to them.

Then he’d make a left down another hall and he’dbe on his way to Eri’s room, far back, tucked at the end, mostly empty exceptfor her.

Just in case, they’d said.

Yamada could navigate it almost as well as hisand Aizawa’s house by now. Lately, to him, the hospital more or less felt like home.This was where he’d spend most of his nights, tucked into the side of a chair,grade book open in his lap, talking with his husband when he had the chance.

Tonight is no different. He stops outside Eri’sroom, a plastic bag full of takeout held in one hand, and gently knocks on thesliding door. It rattles a bit in the track. He hears some soft mumbling andthen Aizawa’s voice, saying, “Come in.”

Yamada pushes open the door and gives them botha smile. This late into the night, Aizawa and Eri are usually done with testingand quirk control exercises. Aizawa had decided to stay late one night, withthe doctors’ permission, after Eri had a particularly trying time with thetests and was becoming closed off. He’d texted Yamada, asking him if he wouldmind eating dinner at the hospital, and Yamada had responded by bringing someleftovers from a dinner they’d made together earlier in the week. Eri had beenshy at first, but opened up after some jokes and good food.

They’d kept up the routine ever since. Aizawaspent many days of the week hanging back as the doctors did their tests,wanting him there for a sense of security, just in case she regained enoughstrength to potentially have another incident. Occasionally, they’d try to runthrough exercises with her, in attempt to teach her to control her abilities,by having Aizawa keep her quirk in check while she did so. Those kinds of daysoften exhausted the both of them.

Yamada was always there with a bag of hot food,a smile, and a plethora of stories to pick them up. It’s the least he can do.He wants to support his husband, and he wants Eri to feel secure and remindedthat there exist people who care about her for more than her quirk.

He sets the bag of food down on the hospitaltable at the foot of Eri’s bed. The girl has her blankets piled in her lap andis sitting up at the head of the bed, watching him. Aizawa is hunched over in achair to her right, he doesn’t seem particularly upset, but his eyes are redderthan usual, the bags below them a little darker, a little larger.

Ah, one of those days, then, Yamada thinks.

Yamada pulls out the boxes of take out and setsthem on the rolling plastic table. He pops the lid on the first container andit releases a puff of steam. Aizawa’s head tilts up and he turns to look atYamada. He gives Aizawa a private smile and a little nod before opening upanother container.

The room starts smelling a bit less like staleair and a bit more like home.

“Eri-chan,” Yamada says, cheerily. She looks upat him. “What would you like to eat?”

–

They’re mostly done with dinner by the timeEri’s caseworker gently knocks against the door. This, too, had become routine.She stopped by every morning and night to check on Eri’s progress and how thegirl was handling everything emotionally. She was a kind woman, who Yamada andAizawa had grown accustomed to. Sometimes, if Yamada had brought a smalldessert, she’d stay to eat with them after finishing her daily report. They’dexchange small talk and complain about silly things like why nobody had figuredout how to make the material of a jacket not get caught in a zipper yet.

Tonight, Yamada hadn’t brought any dessertalong. Aizawa is stacking the takeout containers neatly together and puttingthem in the recycling and trash in the corner of the room. The caseworker,Nakano Megumi, walks through the open door, Eri’s files held to her chest, andgives a welcoming nod to Aizawa. She passes him by and walks over to the bed,where Yamada is helping Eri fold the paper takeout menu the restaurant had putinto their bag into a small pinwheel.

Yamada looks up and gives Nakano a smile, whichshe returns warmly, before pulling up a seat on the other side of Eri’s bed,leaving the one next to Yamada open for Aizawa. Yamada presses his finger downon the corner of the menu and smoothes out a fold. Nakano places her clipboardand Eri’s file atop the mattress, leaning forward to rest her arms on the bed.Yamada likes how comfortable and relaxed Nakano is, never intruding on Eri’sspace, and never acting too serious, despite sometimes talking about veryserious things. She was professional, but gentle. She made Yamada feel calm,which is why he has finally gotten up the nerve to ask her about Eri’ssituation beyond the hospital.

Aizawa and he had discussed it a number oftimes, or, at least, Yamada had tried to discuss it. Aizawa clearly cared aboutEri, Yamada did too. On the days Aizawa came home early from the hospital,Yamada was a little sad he didn’t have to get extra food for one more mouth. Heliked showing Eri how to do origami, or playing shiritori with her. When he hada lot of grading to do and was too busy to play games, he’d look up from hiswork and see Aizawa smiling as he talked to Eri or listened to what she had tosay.

The first few days after awakening, Eri was veryquiet and withdrawn. Aizawa had expressed his frustrations to Yamada,collapsing into bed, scrubbing his hands over his tired eyes, and cursing thevillains who made her so scared. It was upsetting, seeing her unable to smileand enjoy the kind gestures people tried to show her. In her world, kindnesscame with a catch.

They were slowly trying to undo that way ofthinking.

Eri still wasn’t particularly communicative withstrangers, but she’d started talking to Yamada and Aizawa much more. Aizawa wasa constant in her days and nights now. Yamada knew part of her fondness of himsprouted from his presence during her control training, knowing that he wouldstop her from hurting anyone. On a base level, that thinking was alsodestructive, since they were trying to stop her from seeing herself only as abringer of harm, but it was better than believing no one was there for her atall.

Aizawa walks back over from the trash can, droppinginto the chair beside Yamada. He shifts in his seat and Yamada has known himlong enough to see what’s coming next. Yamada scoots a bit closer to the edgeof his own seat so Aizawa can lean his head over onto his husband’s shoulder.Yamada presses his lips to the top of Aizawa’s hair for a second beforereaching his arm around Aizawa’s back to bring him closer. It’s a little hard,since the hospital chairs have arms on them, but it’s alright, they’ve figuredout how to navigate the barriers by now.

Nakano smiles brightly at their embrace, beforeshooting Aizawa a brief look of sympathy. She turns toward Eri, who is lookingdown at her paper pinwheel and paying them no mind.

“That looks cool!” Nakano says, getting Eri’sattention. “Did you make that?”

Eri lifts her head slowly and then looks atYamada. He nods his head encouragingly.

“Yamada-san helped me make it…” Eri responds, hervoice quiet.

“Did he?” Nakano asks, looking at Yamada. “Youknow what might be nice? Adding a little color! Would you like to color it?”she asks Eri.

Eri turns toward Yamada, but he notices her eyesare focused on Yamada’s shoulder, where Aizawa’s head is nestled. Yamada canfeel Aizawa’s slow, steady breaths rising and falling under where his hand isplaced on Aizawa’s side. He doesn’t have to look down to know he’ll see hishusband’s eyes closed.

“That sounds like a fun idea!” Yamada agreeswith Nakano, trying to keep his voice quiet, but still energetic. “I bet wecould convince the doctor to let us use one of those tongue depressors as astick for it, too.”

“Okay,” Eri says, focused on him now.

Nakano shifts in her seat and Yamada looks over.She bends down to sift through her bag, pulling out a Ziploc bag full ofcrayons. She sets the bag by Eri. 

“Here, you can use these,” Nakano says.

Eri tentatively takes a green crayon from thebag and props the pinwheel on her knee. Yamada realizes she’s trying to giveherself a hard surface to color on and quickly lurches forward to pull thetable they’d had their food on closer to Eri. The movement knocks Aizawa offhis shoulder, and out of the corner of his eye he sees his husband quickly grabthe bed railing for support as he falls forward.

“Sorry,” Yamada says over his shoulder, his tonequiet and a little teasing. He wheels the table in front of Eri. “Here, you candraw on this. It will be easier.”

The table is a little high, so she shifts to siton her knees, but follows his instructions and starts coloring in one of thepanels of the pinwheel. Yamada sits back down in his seat and gives Aizawa asmile, the other man rubbing at his eye and giving Yamada a halfhearted glare.

“Love you too, babe,” Yamada whispers, leaninginto Aizawa’s space.

“Mhm, sure you do,” Aizawa responds, droppinghis hand back down to his lap. He looks to Nakano and says, “Sorry, I didn’tmean to fall asleep.”

“It’s alright!” Nakano says, waving Aizawa off.“This is exhausting work.”

Nakano redirects her gaze to Eri.

“It’s nice to take breaks,” she says, liftingthe bag of crayons off the bed and putting them on the table. “Right?”

Eri looks at her and nods, then grabs an orangecrayon from the bag, using it to add swirls to the panel she’d colored green.

“How are you feeling after today, Eri?”

Yamada didn’t like this part of the questions.Nakano is nice and Eri gets along with her fairly well, and he knew that Nakanohad to track Eri’s emotional state and blah, blah, blah, but it was alwaysawkward and tense. It was clear Eri never wanted to answer, and even clearerthat she would never tell the truth.

“Fine,” Eri says, drawing a circle.

Yamada looks to Aizawa, who is also watching Eridraw with a slight frown on his face. His tired eyes dart over to meet Yamada’sfor a second before sliding back to Eri. Yamada reaches down and pats Aizawa’sknee.

“What did you do today?” Nakano asks.

“Tests,” Eri responds.

“How do you feel they went?”

For as much as he didn’t like it, Nakano didhave a good way of wording things. Rather than asking Eri if she progressed inher training or what the results of her tests were, she structured thequestions around Eri’s view of the events of the day. Did Eri feel things wentwell? Did she feel they went badly? How can they work to do better?

“Umm…” Eri says, pausing her coloring to look upat the ceiling, then back to Nakano. “Okay?”

Nakano nods, not asking for clarification. Sheleans forward a bit, crossing her legs.

“Can you tell me something you did today thatmade you feel good?”

Eri looks down at the pinwheel, then at Yamada.He can feel his eyes get wide and he wishes he were better at hiding his shock.

“I liked making this,” Eri says, picking up thepinwheel. “I like making things.”

“That’s good!” Nakano says. “Maybe Yamada canshow you how to make more things? I have an origami book at my office forchildren. I think you might like it.”

Eri’s posture straightens up a bit at her words,obviously interested in the idea of learning to make more patterns out ofpaper.

“Okay!” she says, her voice excited, thendropping back down to her usual quiet volume. “Please?”

“I’ll bring it with me next time,” Nakanopromises, scribbling what Yamada assumes is a reminder in her notepad.

Then again, it might be a note about how Eri hadshown genuine excitement about something, but then immediately defaulted toasking permission in a more tentative voice.

Baby steps, that was what Aizawa always said.

Any progress is progress.

When Nakano is finished writing she looks backat Eri, saying, “What about the things you did with the doctors today? Can youtell me more about that?”

Eri frowns.

Yamada looks over at Aizawa, but he’s staringdown at his boots with his arms crossed.

“Not really…” Eri says.

Nakano looks at Yamada and he shrugs. They madea habit of not discussing Eri’s tests and exercises at the dinners they shared.Her gaze shifts to Aizawa, but he’s distinctly paying none of them any mind.

For a second, Yamada thinks Nakano mightactually ask Aizawa how the tests went, but that’s not her job and it’s notAizawa’s responsibility to answer. She seems to think better of it and focusesback on Eri, who is sifting through the bag of crayons.

Obviously, it had not been a good day.

“You said that it went ‘okay,’ that means itwasn’t all bad, right?” Nakano asks.

“Yeah,” Eri agrees.

“So what went well? What did you think that youdid okay at today?”

“I didn’t hurt anybody.”

Yamada’s mouth opens against his will, but hemanages to not actually let out any noise. Aizawa flinches beside him.

“You don’t have to worry about hurting peopleanymore,” Aizawa says, his voice stern, but gentle.

Eri’s focus zeroes in on him immediately andYamada is reminded again how his presence is her safety net.

Aizawa and Eri stare at each other for a fewseconds before Nakano cuts in.

“Aizawa is right, Eri. You are safe here, and wewill make sure your quirk does not affect anyone else. We’ve taken measure tomake sure that nothing goes wrong. You can relax,” Nakano says. As if to proveher point, she reaches forward and lays her hand on Eri’s forearm, giving it asmall squeeze. Eri recoils a bit a first, but then relaxes when she realizesher quirk is not active and Nakano is not a threat.

“Okay…” Eri says quietly.

Nakano pats her arm once before removing herhand.

Yamada looks back at Aizawa, wondering whatexactly did happen today that has them both in such a bad mood. He’d assumed itwas just another day of quirk training and they were both tired, but by Eri’sreaction it seemed to be more than that. Had she almost slipped up? Did Aizawahave to step in?

These were questions for later, though, inprivate.

He didn’t want to ask things like that in frontof Eri when they were trying so hard to rebuild her confidence and trust.

Nakano looks at her watch for a second and thenwrites something down in her notes again.

“It’s getting pretty late. How about I let youkeep those crayons so you can finish your pinwheel and we’ll talk moretomorrow?”

“I’d like that,” Eri says.

“Okay!” Nakano says happily, closing her folder.“I hope that you will have a good day tomorrow, Eri, but don’t forget that it’salright to have bad days as well. We all do,” she says, looking at Yamada andthen Aizawa.

“Having a bad day does not make you a badperson,” Nakano finishes, turning back to smile at Eri, who is looking at herwith wide eyes. Eri nods when she’s finished talking and Nakano excusesherself, waving goodbye as she steps out of the room.

Yamada waits a few minutes after the caseworkerleaves the room before he makes a move to get up, telling Aizawa and Eri thathe’s going to get some coffee from the machine in the hall. Aizawa declines hisoffer to pick him up a cup as well, saying he needs to get some sleep tonightwhen they get home. Yamada frowns a bit at that. Part of him wants to convinceAizawa they should just head back now, then, if he’s so tired, but he knowsAizawa will politely decline.

They never leave until Eri is ready for them to.

Yamada asks Eri if she wants anything from thevending machines and is a little surprised when she quietly asks that if theyhave any cookies, will he split them with her. Yamada excitedly agrees, happyshe shares his sweet tooth and even happier that she’s starting to ask forthings she wants.

Now, he has two missions:

Talk to the caseworker.

Get those cookies.

When he makes it outside the door, he’s a littlesurprised to see Nakano hasn’t actually made it very far. She’s sitting in oneof the chairs that line the hallway, making a few notes in Eri’s file. Shelooks up when Yamada approaches, her short black hair has a bit of fringe inthe front and it falls in front of her eyes. She closes the folder on her lapand stands up, running her hand through her bangs to push them out of the way.

“Hey, Yamada,” she greets him. “What can I dofor you?”

Yamada bites the inside of his lip a bit, tryingto figure out how best to word his question. Nakano tilts her head, lookingconfused. She breaks eye contact to readjust the papers in her arms, openingthe folder a smidge to straighten some pages that had been sticking out of thetop. Not looking her in the eyes helps Yamada gather his nerves.

“So, uh…” Yamada says, rubbing the back of hisneck. “What’s the plan for Eri?”

“Plan?” Nakano asks, looking up from her folderof papers.

“Yeah, I mean, after she gets out of here. Whatis the plan? Who will take care of her?”

Nakano frowns, shifting her weight to her otherfoot.

“There really isn’t one at this point. Herfather is dead, her mother abandoned her, and her grandfather is deathly ill,and moreover, affiliated with a villainous organization. You know all of that,already,” she says. Yamada nods. Nakano sighs and the breath she let loose isheavy between them.

“I suppose she’d have to be sent to an adoptioncenter. With her quirk, though…” she trails off, looking back toward the shutdoor of Eri’s room. Yamada turns behind him to look at the same door. Feelingthat they’re a bit too close for comfort, he gently guides Nakano a littlefurther down the hall so they can talk in more secure privacy. He might nothave the best hearing, but Aizawa sure as hell did.

“With her quirk, there’s no way she’d beadopted?” Yamada asks, picking the conversation back up.

The casework shakes her head.

“With her quirk, should we make no progresshere, she can’t be sent to live with other children. She can’t be sent to livewith anyone. There’s just too much risk. Maybe Eri could learn to keep herdistance, but what about others? Children are these balls of energy, they’rephysical…if Eri has a bad day…if something sets her off and some kids triesto comfort her with a hug…” Nakano shakes her head. She’s looking off into thedistance, over Yamada’s shoulder. He doesn’t want to think about those thingseither, but she’s right. It’s definitely a concern.

It’s a very big concern.

“I highlydoubt she’d last long in a foster home, should anyone even agree to it. We’rerequired to tell parents about the children’s quirks,” Nakano reminds him.

“What if,” Yamada starts, and then continues. “Whatif…what if she didn’t have to have full control?”

The Nakano looks back to him, tilting her head abit in question. Yamada takes this as an invitation to continue.

“What if…if Shouta and I…” Yamada pauses tocollect his thoughts. Looking down, he says, “With his quirk, he can help her.He can be around her without worrying about the consequences.”

“Can he?” Nakano asks, skeptically. “There arestill consequences. His quirk can’t be active all the time. He can’t beconstantly watching her. What kind of life is that, for either of them? Eriis…Eri is a wonderful girl and I know that we all want to help her very much,but frankly, she is a danger to every living thing around her. She can’t benear people. I know you and Aizawa want to help her, I know that Aizawa’s workwith her has been helping her, but hecan’t dedicate every hour of the day to being by her side. He can’t have hisquirk active all the time. As she gets stronger, that risk will grow. No poweris infinite, Yamada. If he slips up and she overpowers him…”

Yamada shakes his head and waves his hands alittle, signaling that she should stop. He didn’t want to think about that.

The caseworker shrugs her shoulders heavily, Eri’sweighty folder moving with the rise and fall.

“Yes, of course, you two adopting her would bean ideal situation. Not only are you more than capable of protecting her andyourselves, but she trusts you both and you get along well. That being said, asher caseworker, in her current condition, I cannot comfortably adopt her to anyparents, pro heroes or not.”

She places her hand on Yamada’s arm, squeezingit a bit so he looks at her. She smiles.

“Things might change, though. She can getbetter. She might learn to control her quirk. That’s certainly a possibility.We need to encourage her to train both her mind and body. It’s a lot to ask ofa young child, but I think Eri can do it. I believe in her, you should too,”Nakano says.

Yamada quickly nods along with her words. Ofcourse he believed in Eri, of course he knew she was strong. Of course he’dencourage her.

“I am happy to hear that she has prospectiveparents. It is always good to know someone cares about the children I am tryingto help, and that there is hope for them, but it is my job to protect her firstand foremost. Eri has…seen far too much for a child. She has been conditionedto believe her powers are nothing but a curse, and that she is incapable ofdoing anything except hurt people. We don’t want to prove her right. Youunderstand?” she asks. Yamada nods again in response. “If her conditionchanges, we can consider it. For now, let’s put this conversation on pause.”

Yamada does his best to smile at Nakano. Heknows she’s right, but it still hurts to hear the definitive no hangingin the air.

Mission one, failed.

He says goodnight to Nakano and goes on the huntfor his coffee and Eri’s cookies, trying not to think about the possibility ofEri never getting better, and instead focusing on which cookie she might likebest.

It’s pretty late now, around 8 o’clock, andvisiting hours are over, so there’s no line for the machines. The doctors hadbeen very accommodating to Eri’s situation, everyone having taken quite aliking to her, so they never pushed Aizawa and Yamada to leave at the normaltime.

Yamada decides to get the cookies beforestarting the coffee machine, walking up in front of the glass and scanning therows of snacks for something sweet. About halfway down, he reaches the dessertsection. There are little boxes of strawberry Pocky and chocolate Pucca. Hiseyes tick over the boxes and bags until they land on a package of minichocolate chip cookies.

“Perfect!” Yamada exclaims in English. He pullshis wallet out of his back pocket and fishes out the right amount of money forone bag. It takes him a few tries, and having to straighten out the slightlycrumpled yen, but the machine takes his money eventually. He presses thebuttons for the cookies and watches the small plastic doors release the treats.

Except, they don’t come falling down the waythey’re supposed to.

Rather, they wedge themselves against the glass,half of the package caught by the closing doors.

“Nooooo,” Yamada whines, pressing his hands upagainst the glass front of the vending machine. “No, no, no. Come on!”

Yamada hits the glass with his palm, but thecookies don’t budge. He grumbles nonsense, thankful no one is around to see himfighting with a metal box, and pulls more money out of his wallet. He pressesthe buttons with a bit more force this time, foot tapping as he waits for themachine to rev up, mechanics moving, and release another packet of cookies.

Aizawa won’t eat them, but they’ll still besealed, so Yamada figures he can bring them by another day to share with Eriagain.

Too bad the second pouch of cookies somehowimpossibly smacks the first bag down a little bit, but manages to get both bagssquished in an awkward position between the glass and more snacks on the lowerlevels.

Yamada spends a few seconds staring at the twobags, mouth slack and hanging open, eyebrows inching higher and higher thelonger he looks.

“Are…you…kidding…me?”

He throws his hands up, balled into fists, andhits the machine again.

Nothing happens.

“Come on! No!” Yamada begs. “No, just give methe cookies!”

He hits the glass again, but this time with abit less energy.

“No…” Yamada says, voice getting softer.

He uncurls his hands, laying his palms flatagainst the window. He leans his head forward until his forehead is pressedagainst it too.

“Can’t I just have this one thing?” Yamada asksquietly.

Sighing, he turns around, presses his backagainst the glass front of the busted machine, and slowly slides down it untilhis butt hits the floor. He pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his armsaround them.

Everything Nakano had said made sense.

All of it made perfect sense.

She was right.

She was right, which was exactly why it all feltso wrong.

It was why it was so hard to accept.

Yamada knew when he’d left the house that nightplanning to have this conversation, that there was no way Nakano was going tosay, sure, and hand over the adoptionpapers just like that. He knew there would be weeks, maybe months, of waitingbefore Eri would be ready to go anywhere.

Nakano had said there was hope. She’d said toput a pause on the conversation, as in they could pick it up later, when thingsgot better, when Eri was in control. Yamada knows these are the things heshould be focusing on.

Except she’d also said that with Eri’s quirk,she couldn’t safely be sent to live with anyone and this was the only sentencethat was running through his head on repeat.

Yamada and Aizawa were included in thatstatement.

He pulls his legs up tighter and rests his chin againsthis knees. It’s hard to breathe like this, but he doesn’t care. Thinking feelsa little bit easier like this.

Somewhere along the lines, it had happened.Maybe it was while watching Aizawa tuck strands of her long hair behind herear, or when Yamada taught her how to do a braid. It could have been whenAizawa fell asleep on the hospital chair holding her hand in one of his andYamada’s hand in his other. Equally as likely, was when Yamada sang littlelullabies to the both of them.

Whatever it was, somewhere along the lines ithad happened.

It had only been a few weeks, but it hadhappened.

Yamada wanted this more than he could everadmit.

He’d written it off long ago, not having thetime or right mindset, believing he wasn’t really equipped for the job nomatter how much he loved helping little kids. Aizawa and he were far too busywith work and, in his mind, had seen far too much fucked up shit to ever begood enough for it, so…he hadn’t considered this role.

Until now.

Until he was told he couldn’t have it, thisthing he wanted.

Yamada bites his lip and wills his eyes to notwater.

He wanted to be a dad.

Yamada groans and throws his head back infrustration, forgetting the vending machine is right there, and smackingagainst it. He reaches up to rub the back of his now aching head at the sametime as he hears rustling and then two distinct thuds behind him.

He turns around a bit and looks up to where thecookie bags had been pressed against the glass, but they’re now missing. Yamadashifts so he can stuff his hand under the flap and lets out a shocked laughwhen he pulls the cookies out.

“Wow,” Yamada laughs. “Wow, okay. What is this?”he asks looking up, holding the bag of cookies above his head like the flimsydrop ceiling is the amalgamation of all the karmic forces in the world. “Isthis a lesson? Good things come to those who wait?”

He lowers the cookies back down slowly, droppingthem on the floor beside his hip.

“No,” he says, closing his eyes, thinking abouthow his head hitting the machine had caused the treats to fall. He made ithappen. His actions brought about the results. “Maybe it’s something more like,you can’t get what you want without trying?” he asks, looking back up at theceiling, then back down to the cookies by his hip. “Not without trying…”

—

Yamada walks back into Eri’s room and seesAizawa is already snoozing in his chair, head falling forward, his chinpractically touching his chest. If he hadn’t left his capture weapon at home,his face would probably be buried in it.

Yamada smiles down at his husband as heapproaches the bed, shaking the two bags of cookies to show his prize to Eri,whose eyes get pretty darn big at the sight of the second bag.

“Wow!” she says. “That’s a lot!”

“Yeah, I accidentally got two,” Yamada laughs.Okay, so it wasn’t an accident per say, but he certainly hadn’t planned on itin the beginning. “I figured we can eat the second bag later in the week.”

Eri’s little pout at the news makes Yamadasmile. Pouting was good, children were supposed to pout. Children were supposedto want to eat two bags of cookies for dessert.

This was good.

This was progress.

Yamada walks quietly around Aizawa’s chair tothe seat next to him, brushing his fingers over the back of his husband’s neckon the way by. Aizawa shivers a tiny bit at the touch, but doesn’t stirfurther.

Taking his seat, Yamada nods his head towardAizawa, saying, “Looks like someone is done for the night, huh?”

Eri gives him a timid attempt at a smile.

It’s okay, he’ll take it.

It’s enough.

They’d learned to be very patient these past fewweeks. He supposes, now, that he should have applied those skills in hisconversation with Nakano.

Yamada scoots his chair a bit closer to the bedand tears open the cookie bag, offering one of the mini snacks to Eri. Shetakes the cookie from him and pops it into her mouth, closing her eyes to enjoythe sweet treat. A genuine smile blooms on her face.

“Is it good?” he asks, knowing the answer. Shenods happily.

“I’m glad,” Yamada says, getting a cookie fromthe bag for himself.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, just thehappy noise of crumbling hard cookies, the occasional crumple of the bag asanother hand dips inside it, and the small, soft snores of Aizawa filling thevoid of speech. It’s peaceful. Eri seems relaxed now that Nakano is gone and nodoctors have asked her how she’s feeling in a number of hours. Yamada wasbecoming rather good at telling when she was on guard. She’d often keep herlegs and arms tucked close to her body, her chin tilted down, and most of herhair falling over her shoulders. He’d often use his own long hair as a barrier,so she definitely wasn’t fooling him when she did the same.

Now, though, her hair was brushed over hershoulders, her head held higher, and her body turned mostly toward Yamada.

He hopes that the conversation he’s about tohave with her won’t ruin the tentatively relaxed atmosphere that has beencreated in the room.

When Eri finishes the cookie she’s munching on,he starts.

“Hey,” Yamada says. Eri looks at him, her bigred eyes questioning. “Can I ask you something?”

He immediately regrets his choice of words, asthe corners of Eri’s mouth droop down a fraction of an inch.

“It won’t be bad!” Yamada says, trying to stopthe shift in mood. “It’s just a couple of things I’m curious about…”

Eri doesn’t react.

“Uh…” Yamada rubs the back of his neck and looksover at Aizawa, who is still sleeping soundly in his chair. “Look…Eri…thisis whole situation is very difficult for you, and probably very confusing, andI’m sorry you have to go through so much. I’m sorry we keep asking you thingsyou don’t have the answers to. I’m sure you’re sick of the tests and questionsand this room…” Yamada trails off, gesturing to the too bright, white walls andtile and equipment. Eri’s eyes follow his hand, taking in her location as hespeaks.

“I’m sorry. I want this to end too. We all wantto help you, that’s why everyone is here, trying so hard,” he says. She nodsalong with him. This, he knows she’s aware of. She’d thanked everyone manytimes for helping her. She is not mean to anyone. She’s shown nothing butgratitude, but still, any kid had to be sick of being in the hospital.Although, compared to her previous situation, he supposes this would seem muchbetter.

“Eri,” Yamada starts again. “What do youwant…when you leave here? What would you like to happen? Where would you liketo go?”

Eri frowns, her eyebrows pulled together. She tiltsher head to the side before shaking it back and forth.

“You don’t understand?” he asks. Of course not,why would he expect her to? How was she supposed to answer something like that?She probably didn’t even know what kind of possibilities there were for her.

“You can’t go back to your grandpa,” Yamadasays. Eri’s eyes widen a little, but she doesn’t look too disappointed. He figuresshe’s probably well aware that wasn’t an option.

“Do you know what adoption means?” he asks. Erinods her head, but there’s some hesitation. He tries as best he can to explainit in simple terms. “Sometimes, when kids don’t have parents to take care ofthem, people will take them into their homes and be their new parents. Theylove them and raise them as if they were their kids.”

Ideally, anyway, he thinks, trying to shake off the image of Eri being passedbetween numerous foster homes.

Eri nods along.

“That’s probably what will happen with you,Eri.”

I hope that’s whathappenswith you, Eri.

Yamada watches Eri carefully, but she’s verygood at keeping a neutral expression, albeit, that neutral expression lookspretty small and scared most of the time. Now, though, she looks away from himand down to her hands, folded in her lap.

“If…” Yamada starts, but hesitates. He bites theinside of his lip and feels his leg muscles tightening up, itching to start hisnervous tapping tic, but tries to keep his foot from lifting off the ground.‘If’ wasn’t the right word. No, he needed to have confidence in this future ifhe wanted it to become real. He needed to have confidence in Eri’s abilities.“When you get your strength back and your quirk…when you can control yourpower…someday you’ll be able to leave the hospital.”

Eri looks up from her lap, turning to look athim. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes are a little wider, a little morehopeful.

“When that happens,” he says. “You’ll be up foradoption. Nakano will make sure that a very nice family, who you approve of,will take care of you. They’ll be your parents. Eri…Eri I was wondering…”Yamada looks away now, over at Aizawa. “How would you feel if those people wereAizawa and I?”

He closes his eyes for a few seconds, beforeturning back to look at her, nervous for her reaction. It’s clearly anunnecessary feeling, however, as when he opens his eyes, he sees Eri, wideeyed, mouth open in shock, staring at him. She looks quickly to Aizawa, stillcompletely unaware, then back to him.

“Eri?” Yamada asks.

Eri pushes herself up onto her knees andshuffles across the bed toward him, sitting closer. She reaches out her handand grabs the sleeve of his jacket. He’s surprised how tight her grip is, thefabric bunching up around her fist.

“Yes,” Eri says. Her tone is strong, unwavering.“Yes, I…I…want that. I want that. I want to live with you and Aizawa-san.”Yamada feels the grin burst onto his face, not only does she want them to beher parents, but she’d expressed that she wanted something.

“Is that…is that okay?” Eri asks, her griploosening on his jacket. Yamada quickly places his hand over hers before shecan pull it away, retreating entirely. Her eyes snap up to his.

“Of course it’s okay,” he insists. “I wouldn’thave asked if I didn’t want to offer. Eri, please don’t think you’d be abother. Please don’t think that. We want to help you, we want you to be part ofour family. Shouta and I have been talking about this for a while now. You’re agood person, Eri. I know that the precepts told you things…made you thinkthat you could only hurt people, but they’re wrong. You’ve made Shouta and Ismile so much since being here. I’m always so happy to come eat dinner withboth of you, to make pinwheels and share cookies and play games. I would bevery happy to be your father, Eri.”

Eri’s other hand finds its way atop his, smalland gentle, shaking a bit. Her lower lip is trembling and her eyes are glossingover. Yamada isn’t surprised when she starts to cry. He pulls his hand out fromunder hers to open his arms up, offering her a hug if she wants it. She scootsforward again, holding her hands out toward his chest, and sometimes Yamadaforgets she’s so young, but with her hands reaching toward him, she looks somuch like a toddler asking for someone to pick them up.

He grabs her under arms and pulls her off thebed and into his lap, where she buries her face and hands in his shirt. Heholds her tight and smoothes her hair with his hand, rocking her a bit.

“I want that, too,” Eri says around herhiccuping sobs. “Me too…I want that too…I want to spend more time with youand Aizawa-san. I want…I want…somewhere to go to…not like with papa…”

“Okay,” Yamada says gently, rubbing her back.“Then I’ll do everything I can to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe, Eri. Itwill be okay.”

Yamada rocks her back and forth slowly in hischair for a while until she stops crying. Eventually, she falls asleep pressedinto his chest, her hands going slack and falling to her lap.

All he can think about is what if he’d justpromised something he can’t make good on?

As he lifts Eri up slowly, placing her back onthe hospital bed, and covering her with the sheets, he thinks about how muchmore this will all hurt if Aizawa and he really can’t adopt her. He tries topicture someone else cradling her in their arms, easing her pain, stopping hercries, and it hurts.

Last week, on a rare night when Aizawa and hewere both at their house for dinner, they’d talked about how they could maketheir study into a bedroom. Yamada had suggested moving the desk into thecorner of the living room, and Aizawa wondered if they could convert thebookcase into a headboard for a bed. 

A place for Eri to put all her books, the onesthey’d read to her.

Yamada is too caught up in his own world tonotice when Aizawa rouses from his sleep. He’s surprised when he feels armswrap around his middle, and a warm body press into his side. Aizawa’s breathtickles his neck.

“Someone is frowning,” Aizawa says.

“Ah,” Yamada replies, but his tone is quiet andhe’s not putting the usual sarcasm behind it. “Who could that be?”

“Me, now,” Aizawa says, backing off, but Yamadacatches his arms before he can fully extract them. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Yamada starts and then quickly stopshimself. He hadn’t told Aizawa he was going to ask Nakano about the adoptionpossibilities. He hadn’t planned on telling him, either. It seemed like such afar away idea. Aizawa had tabled the conversation earlier that week when Yamadahad suggested discussing things with Nakano.

Yamada hadn’t understood at the time why Aizawawouldn’t want to ask Nakano if he wanted to adopt Eri as much as Yamada did.

Now, though, he thinks he gets it.

Aizawa sees the things he doesn’t. He sees herwhen she loses control, when she doubts herself, and when the tests go wrong.He sees how far away the finish line is.

Maybe waiting made sense, but…

But Yamada had never been a particularly patientperson.

“I talked to Nakano,” Yamada says, turning inhis seat to face Aizawa. “I asked her about what will happen with Eri after sheis discharged.”

Aizawa glances at Eri’s sleeping form, then backto Yamada. He closes his eyes and sighs.

“And? What did she say?”

“What you thought she would,” Yamada admits. Hefeels the tightness in his chest constrict further.

“Hizashi…”

Yamada shakes his head.

“Hizashi, please,” Aizawa says, taking hishands. “We don’t know what will happen tomorrow let alone what will happenweeks from now. Don’t get discouraged. If things go well…we have a good shotat this.”

“And if they don’t go well?” Yamada asks, hisvoice a whisper.

Aizawa’s grip tightens around his hands.

“Then we do what we can,” Aizawa says. “Just likewe always do.”

[bronzeflower]

Who The Fuck Writes A Ten-Page Rant?????

Also on ao3

-----

Chapter 6: A Message At Long Last

It had been days since you saw the cute guy, and you have basically given up any sort of hope that he would actually message you.

To be fair, it had only been one or two days, but still. Anyway, you still had stuff to work on, so there really wasn’t any use in moping about a cute guy you talked to for a grand total of four minutes and thirteen seconds.

Someone was pestering you, so you decided to answer, only to find that it was a handle you didn’t recognize.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

CG: I CANNOT FUCKING *BELIEVE* THAT YOU ARE THE SAME FUCKING ASSHOLE THAT TEREZI GAVE ME THE CHUMHANDLE TO.

CG: I WASN’T GOING TO TROLL A DUMBASS LIKE THAT, SO I DIDN’T FOR WEEKS BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE A STUPID WASTE OF THE PRECIOUS AMOUNT OF TIME I HAVE LEFT. CG: AND YET, HERE I AM. CG: MESSAGING YOU. CG: BECAUSE I DECIDED THAT THERE WAS A POSSIBILITY THAT YOU WEREN’T A COMPLETELY AWFUL PERSON. CG: ALSO, IF YOU HAVEN’T FIGURED IT OUT YET, I’M THE GUY WHO WORKS AT ROSEMARY. CG: YOU KNOW, THE STORE YOU WENT TO GET A SUIT AT.

TG: holy shit you actually messaged me TG: this is the best goddamned day of my entire life TG: ive been blessed with your presence

CG: DAMN RIGHT YOU HAVE.

TG: you seem a lot more angry over text though

CG: IN CASE YOU FAILED TO NOTICE, I WAS AT WORK WHEN I MET YOU. CG: I WAS ACTING “PROFESSIONAL.” CG: PEOPLE DON’T USUALLY TAKE KINDLY TO OTHERS YELLING INSULTS AND CURSE WORDS INTO THEIR AURICULAR SPONGE CLOTS

TG: so are you always this angry when youre not at work

CG: YES.

TG: goddamn TG: also, you know tz???

CG: YEAH, SHE’S A CHILDHOOD FRIEND, AND SHE ALSO DEMANDED TO GIVE ME YOUR CHUMHANDLE DESPITE ME SAYING THAT I ABSOLUTELY DID *NOT* WANT IT. CG: BUT YOU GAVE ME YOUR CHUMHANDLE ANYWAY, SO IT’S NOT LIKE IT MATTERED.

TG: wait but why did she give you my chumhandle in the first place TG: did she just up and decide that we needed to be friends because she and me are friends and so are you and her

CG: NO. SHE GAVE IT TO ME BECAUSE I WAS COMPLAINING ABOUT THE NEW FUCKING MEMES GOING AROUND THAT ARE BASED ON A VIDEO YOU MADE. CG: I COULD MAYBE HANDLE THE VIDEO. CG: IT WAS KIND OF FUNNY, AND KANAYA SAID I SHOULD TRY LAUGHING AT MY PAST MISTAKES INSTEAD OF GETTING ANGRY AT THEM. CG: BUT THE MEMES. OH GOD THE MEMES. CG: THEY WERE THE MOST HORRIFIC THINGS I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE, AND THAT’S PRETTY FUCKING DIFFICULT THING TO ACCOMPLISH, SO I GUESS I AM FORCED TO GIVE PROPS TO THAT. CG: BUT THAT DOES NOT NEGATE THE ESTABLISHED *FACT* THAT THEY ARE THE WORST THINGS I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY EXISTENCE. CG: THEY MAKE ME WANT TO STAB MY EYES OUT AND BE BLIND FOR THE REST OF MY WAKING LIFE. CG: I WON’T EVEN GET TEREZI TO TEACH ME HOW TO SEE BECAUSE THAT WOULD ENABLE ME TO BE ABLE TO TAKE A WHIFF OF THE SHIT PEOPLE PUT ON THE INTERNET. CG: I’LL JUST GO THROUGHOUT MY LIFE BEING PERFECTLY FUCKING CONTENT WITH BEING ABLE TO SEE JACK SHIT.

TG: are you the guy who sent me that ten page rant then TG: because that was fucking amazing TG: best goddamn thing i ever seen TG: highlight of the year

CG: IF THOSE GOD-FORSAKEN MEMES BECOME THE MEME OF THE YEAR, I WILL FIND SOME WAY TO MURDER YOU IN THE MOST SLOW AND PAINFUL WAY POSSIBLE.

TG: ouch TG: guess im going to have to resign myself to my death TG: because that meme is the best TG: it will live on for generations TG: it will never get old TG: we will be on the edge of death all wrinkled and dying of whatever old people die of TG: like a heart attack or something TG: and then i will turn to the nearest person and speak with my dying breath TG: “maybe one day my death will come so i never have to look at your god-forsaken channel ever again, you complete and utter douche muffin” TG: and then theyll start laughing because they love that fucking meme TG: memorized the entire goddamned thing TG: it will be taught in schools TG: kids will have to recite an excerpt of it to the class TG: analyze the shit out of it TG: where does all this guys anger come from TG: nobody knows TG: theyll just have to guess until theyre blue in the face

CG: THE WORDS. THEY DON’T STOP. CG: I’VE JUST BEEN OVER HERE POLITELY WAITING TO SEE IF YOU WOULD BURN YOURSELF OUT. CG: BUT APPARENTLY YOU HAVE THE ABILITY TO GO ON FOR UNTIL AFTER THE UNIVERSE END UNLESS SOMEONE SHUTS YOU UP. CG: AND CLEARLY THE UNIVERSE HAS GRANTED ME THIS VERY IMPORTANT RESPONSIBILITY TO MAKE SURE YOU DON’T RUN YOUR MOUTH FOR ALL ETERNITY.

TG: clearly the greatest honor to ever be granted to someone TG: the privilege to tell the dave strider to shut his pothole

CG: SHUT YOUR POTHOLE.

TG: hahahaha TG: on a completely different note what even made you write a ten page rant about my channel anyways

CG: MOSTLY THE FACT THAT IT WAS A STUPID CHANNEL. CG: BUT ALSO THE FACT THAT IT WAS THREE AM, AND I HADN’T SLEPT FOR A WHILE.

TG: so what youre telling me is TG: you *actually* sent me a ten page rant when you were that sleep deprived TG: no wonder it was so incoherent

CG: I COULD PROBABLY HAVE WRITTEN IT BETTER IF I WASN’T SO TIRED. CG: IT WOULD HAVE BEEN THE BEST GODDAMNED PIECE OF WRITING IN ALL OF PARADOX SPACE CG: NOTHING ELSE COULD EVER COMPETE TO THE MASTERPIECE I WOULD HAVE CREATED. CG: HOWEVER, INSTEAD, MY PAST SELF, AND BY THAT I MEAN *MYSELF*, WRITES A HEAPING PILE OF FESTERING SHIT.

TG: point taken TG: the question here is TG: will you ever write this masterpiece TG: will i ever get the pleasure of reading this glorious piece of hate mail directed towards yours truly

CG: NO.

TG: wow harsh TG: shut down immediately TG: didnt even get to go on a weirdly personal tangent TG: would have been fantastic TG: i have no conceivable idea of where it would have gone TG: but i can guarantee it would have been the second best thing in the universe TG: second only to the hypothetical rewrite of the glorious hate mail that you sent me

CG: AND IT WILL STAY HYPOTHETICAL FOR ALL OF ETERNITY. CG: I REFUSE TO EMBARRASS MYSELF LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN. CG: HOW DID I EVEN GET TO THE POINT IN MY LIFE WHERE I AM MESSAGING YOU. CG: OH, WAIT. NOW I REMEMBER. CG: IT WAS BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T A COMPLETE ASSHOLE IN PERSON. CG: CLEARLY THAT DOES NOT TRANSFER OVER TO TEXT.

TG: im hurt karkat

CG: SUCK IT UP, DINGUS.

TG: dave actually TG: i dont know if i actually introduced myself to you

CG: I DON’T THINK YOU DID EITHER. CG: ALTHOUGH, I THINK YOUR SISTER INTRODUCED YOU, BUT IT OCCURS TO ME THAT I DIDN’T ACTUALLY CATCH YOUR NAME WHEN SHE SAID IT. CG: IT’S A MIRACLE YOU ACTUALLY REMEMBERED MY NAME.

TG: what can i say im good with names TG: and also multiple people said it in my presence so i guess there is also that

CG: I GUESS

TG: …

CG: …

TG: …

CG: …

CG: I CAN’T BELIEVE BOTH OF US ARE OUT OF THINGS TO SAY FOR ONCE.

TG: huh TG: i suppose so TG: …

CG: I GUESS YOU COULD PESTER ME IF YOU EVER FIND SOMETHING TO RUN YOUR MOUTH ABOUT. CG: OR I’LL TROLL YOU ABOUT SOMETHING OR OTHER. CG: LATER THOUGH. CG: BYE.

TG: see ya

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

You sigh, a bit sad that the conversation ended, and then you immediately decide to inform others of this happening.

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --

TG: rose rose youll never guess what happened

-- tentacleTherapist [TT] is an idle chum! --

TG: i guess you will never guess what happened since you arent even hear to guess TG: what are you even doing TG: please dont tell me you went into your writing bunker TG: if you did i wont be able to talk to you for at least a week if not more TG: and no one else will be able to either TG: what if kanaya tries to message you TG: assuming you actually exchanged contact information TG: how long ago did you even do that TG: how could you not tell your own brother that you got a girls chumhandle TG: have you asked her out yet TG: it would be great if you were on a date instead of in the writing bunker TG: then people could actually contact you and you wouldnt be completely isolating yourself from the rest of the world other than brief trips outside to get food TG: anyway karkat messaged me and we had a conversation TG: i would tell you more about it but it seems you are an idle chum TG: pester me later if you want the details

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gallowsCalibrator [GC] --

TG: tz youll never guess what just happened

GC: 1M GO1NG TO T4K3 4 W1LD GU3SS 4ND S4Y TH4T K4RK4T F1N4LLY GOT 4ROUND TO M3SS4G1NG YOU

TG: youd be correct TG: how did you know TG: i mean i know that he got my chumhandle from you but also he refused to message me for weeks

GC: 1 H4V3 4 C3RT41N T4L3NT FOR KNOW1NG TH3S3 SORTS OF TH1NGS GC: 4ND 4LSO K4RK4T 1S Y3LL1NG 4T M3 1N 4NOTH3R CH4T GC: 1 H4V3 OPT3D TO 1GNOR3 H1M FOR NOW GC: 4NYW4Y, WH4T D1D YOU TWO T4LK 4BOUT

TG: we talked about memes

CG: M3M3S?

TG: yes memes TG: specifically the memes that erupted after the rant video

GC: OF COURS3 GC: H3 W4S V3RY 4NGRY 4BOUT THOS3 GC: WH1CH R3M1NDS M3, WHY D1D H3 M3SS4G3 YOU 1N TH3 F1RST PL4C3 1F H3 W4S SO 4G41NST 1T B3FOR3?

TG: okay so remember the cute boy i was talking about like two days ago

GC: Y34H

TG: that was karkat

GC: … GC: … GC: …

TG: terezi?? TG: did i actually break you or do you just need a moment to process the information i just gave you TG: yo tz i need some confirmation that you did not just die from an overload of information TG: hit me up with your response TG: are you alive

GC: NO

TG: thank god youre not dead

GC: TH4TS WH4T TH3 GOV3RNM3NT W4NTS YOU TO TH1NK

TG: shit youre right TG: the government is doing all this nasty shit and now they are making it so we think we arent dead TG: how do we know the government isnt dead though

GC: SHHHHHH GC: TH3S3 4R3 TOP S3CR3T GOV3RNM3NT S3CR3TS YOUR3 SPR34D1NG 4BOUT GC: YOUV3 GOT TO B3 MOR3 D1SCR3T3

TG: discrete is my middle name

GC: NO, YOUR3 M1DDL3 N4M3 1S 3L1Z4B3TH

TG: shit you got me there

GC: 4ND YOU 4R3 4BOUT 4S D1SCR3T3 4S 4 TR41N CR4SH GC: YOU COULDNT BE D1SCR3T3 1F YOUR L1F3 D3P3ND3D ON 1T

TG: those are some harsh words

GC: 4R3 TH3Y WRONG?

TG: …

GC: 1 R3ST MY C4S3 GC: 4NYW4Y, W3 H4V3 GOTT3N 3NT1IR3LY OFF TR4CK FROM TH3 CONV3RS4T1ON 4T H4ND GC: R3G4RDL3SS OF HOW MUCH FUN W3 W3R3 H4V1NG W1TH TH1S S3CR3CY T4LK GC: WH4T 4BOUT K4RK4T M33T1NG YOU 1N R34L L1F3 CH4NG3D H1S M1ND 4BOUT M3SS4G1NG YOU?

TG: i honestly dont know for sure but he said something about me actually not seeming like a complete douchebag in real life

GC: M4K3S S3NS3 W1TH HOW FLUST3R3D 1 4M 4SSUM1NG YOU W3R3 GC: TH3 GUY W4S COMPL41N1NG HOW YOU W3R3 COMPL3T3LY MONOTON3 1N 4LL OF YOUR V1D3OS GC: 4ND TH3N H3 S33S YOU H4V3 4N 4CTU4L 3MOT1ON >:O GC: 3SP3C14LLY 4N 3MOT1ON WH3R3 YOU SHOW TH4T YOU L1K3 H1M GC: TH3 GUY 1S 4 SUCK3R FOR ROM3NC3 GC: NOV3LS 4ND MOV13S 4L1K3

TG: holy fuck TG: i cant believe i kind of flirted with a hopeless romantic

GC: 1 HOP3 YOU DONT TH1NK TH4T H3 W1LL D4T3 YOU JUST B3C4US3 OF TH4T

TG: of course not TG: im not some goddamned creeper TG: if he doesnt want to date me thats fine TG: it would be great to be friends with him at least TG: i had fun talking to him earlier

GC: D4V3

TG: what

GC: 1S TH4T 4N 3MOT1ON 1 SM3LL?

TG: oh my god tz we are not doing this for the hundredth time TG: we get it TG: i TG: the cool kid TG: has emotions like every other human being on the planet TG: its not such a surprise anymore

GC: YOU H4V3 4N 3N1R3 GRUBTUB3 CH4NN3L D3D1C4T3D TO R3V13W1NG TH1NGS 1N TH3 MOST 3MOT1ONL3SS W4Y POSS1BL3

TG: … TG: ok thats fair

GC: BUT 1M W4RN1NG YOU NOW 4BOUT K4RK4TS LOV3 OF ROMCOMS GC: H3 W1LL T4LK 4T L3NGTH 4BOUT TH3M 4ND TH3R3 1S ABSOLUT3LY NOTH1NG YOU C4N DO TO PR3V3NT TH4T FROM H4PP3N1NG GC: SO YOU M1GHT 4S W3LL G1V3 UP HOP3 NOW

TG: god damn TG: and here i was TG: woefully unprepared for the potential onslaught of romcoms TG: and then you come along TG: with all your future knowledge and shit like a some kind of seer or something TG: and allowed me to arm myself with the knowledge that karkat really fucking loves romcoms TG: thank you for you have done a great deed

GC: JUST W41T UNT1L H3 FORC3S YOU TO W4TCH TH3M

TG: is that a thing he does TG: aggressively shoves romcoms into his friends faces TG: how are yall still sane

GC: 4T SOM3 PO1NT YOU L34RN TO 4CC3PT YOUR F4T3 B3C4US3 1T 1S E4S13R 1N TH3 LONG RUN GC: 4ND T4K3S UP L3SS T1M3 GC: YOU C4N 4LSO JUST F4LL 4SL33P DUR1NG TH3 MOV13 GC: K4RK4T W1LL B3 TOO 1NTO TH3 MOV13 TO 4CTU4LLY C4R3

TG: good to know TG: i thank you for the sheer amount of wisdom you hold

GC: YOUR3 W3LCOM3 GC: OH 1 H4V3 TO GO NOW GC: 1 H4V3 4 D4T3 GC: >;]

-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

TG: wait hold on who are you going on a date with TG: shit TG: youre already gone TG: ill weasel the truth out of you sooner or later TG: or i guess youll just tell me TG: same difference really TG: or maybe not TG: whatever TG: case still stands that i will find out who you are going on a date with TG: i want details TG: except maybe not really TG: i would rather a brief overview of the date if that is possible TG: please dont go into weird tangents about how much you licked them TG: because that would be awkward and weird TG: anyway TG: later

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gallowsCalibrator [GC] --

You decide to take the remainder of the day to work on some more videos. After all, you know Terezi will probably tell you who she went on a date with sooner or later, and Karkat said he might message you in the future. You can't help but smile at that. He was fun to talk to, so it would be nice to hear from him again.