#sitting in the same uncomfortable chair at the same uncomfortable desk watching YouTube is not it

[hedgewitchnecromancer]

Can my birthday present be adequate mental health for a day please brain?

[chalkarts]

MinE now: Part 2

Fluorescents. While not as luminous nor scorching as the sun they are somehow far more uncomfortable. The angry buzz and almost imperceptible pulsations give a parasitic life to the light. Colors washed out, joy leached away, a cubicle farm aglow. A dozen other military demotees and a few renamed protected witnesses that talk too much work endlessly to keep the wheels of bureaucracy grinding along as slowly as possible, the Smiths doing their due diligence. God Bless America.

His ass hasn’t even begun to heat up the cracked vinyl of my chair when It begins.

Lewis, lanky, loud, and far too chipper for the hour fires the first shot. “Hey Maggie! You do anything fun last night?”

Maggie…they all know. He doesn’t know who told them. but they all know.

“Are there actually fun things to do in Cleveland?” He snipes back.

“C’mon man, Cleveland Rocks!” A hard gaze informs him that his banter is unwelcome so he takes the rest of the conversation back to his cubicle.

The inbox is already full. File this paperwork in triplicate. This goes to the mailroom. Why did Drew give send this here when it’s clearly labeled for Oswald? The incompetence is staggering. Every day, noble gasses bathe government ineptitude in miserable radiance. Every day, here he is, begging for an end to it all. Morning becomes lunch then afternoon. It’s getting close to quitting time. Then go can go back to his studio apartment and watch vacation videos on YouTube.

A gravel road voice rocks the office. “Maggie!! Get in here!”

Maggie. he hates that it’s become the norm. He hates himself for responding to it.

From the tone of Boss's voice, it doesn’t sound great, but at least it’s something different. He pops up to peek over the top of his cube, like a mole hoping to be whacked. His eyes are locked on him, not his mustache, him. Making his way through the cubes toward the office, glances and smirks following him to the door.

“Sit down,” The door clicks, silence. Soundproofing that could muffle a massacre plunges them into solitude. His wispy combover prevents him from being any kind of intimidating. He suspects that the Boss keeps it for the same reason he lets a world war one hedge row grow from his upper lip. It’s distracting.

The Boss sits, leaning over his desk, bidding him do the same.

In hushed tones, “It’s no secret that you hate this place.”

He tries to look surprised by the assumption. He hoped he’d hidden it better than that, “No, I don’t hate it...”

“Oh stop,” he cuts him off, “We all hate this place. You, me, the Smiths out there, you aren’t special. But you, unlike most of us, have a chance to get out of here.” Jealousy consumes his scowl for a moment before giving way to his standard air of grump and truculence. “FLAG has an assignment for you. High risk, High reward. All I can tell you now is that if you succeed, you’ll be restored to rank and given a posting of your choice.”

The possibilities explode in his mind. Getting out of here, going anywhere he wants? That is the quintessential meaning of High Reward. But what does he mean by High Risk? 30% chance of success? Does he have to jump into a volcano without a wetsuit? Are there Badgers? What exactly does high risk mean? The only way to find out is to accept. He know how this works. This isn’t his first classified assignment. He can’t see the file or any of the details until he says yes. Accept the task sight unseen. Is the risk worth it? He might be hurt, killed, or worse yet slimed…but he might also get out of Cleveland.

“I’m in.”

“Good, this assignment actually comes down from your old boss.” He pulls a file folder from his desk and slides it across the glass. “Masters was hoping you’d take this. Personnel has been tight ever since Colonel Smith took his team and went AWOL.”

“Didn’t we have a B-team in place?”

“No, we never expected them to do what they did so we never thought to double up. Now they’re gone and we don’t know how to find them.”

“Damn…” They were good men. “I don’t know why they did it, but we’ll catch up to them someday. What about your Townsend girls? I know they’re usually your first call for this sort of thing.”

“They’re down in Mexico on assignment. Might not be back for weeks. Not to be a dick about it, but you’re our bottom of the barrel.”

He opens the file and starts the quest to leave Cleveland.

It’s a bit of a gut punch to see it. Hawaii…home. A satellite photo of the islands looks back at him. The black, tan, and green piles of firmament laid out in a row contrast against the monochrome blue of the Pacific. A million mixed memories pummel his heart with minute peeks into the past that he pissed away. To the south, circled on the map, an almost imperceptible speck.

“What’s this?”

“That’s what we want to know.”

on the next page a lone island sits dead center of the image.

“One of our analysts kids found it on Google Earth. Uncharted, no one even knew it was there. We figured, hey we found an uncharted Island, can we put missiles on it? So we focused our eyes in the sky on it. Damned if it wasn’t already inhabited.”

The next page is a closer view of the tiny speck of land. Several circular buildings of varying size bearing thatched roofs dot the island. Dirt paths carved through the jungle connect them to one another, and to a dock built on the southern point near a field of blue flowers. “Satellites show It’s surrounded by a dense coral reef, but you could get a boat in there, if you were good. You might even get a ship in there if you were amazing. We need to find out what’s going on there.”

“What, exactly, do you need me to do?”

“We need recon and potential clean up. We don’t know what this is.” an exasperated shrug accents his cluelessness. “It may be an uncontacted indigenous tribe, or it might be the center of a world spanning evil organization bent on burning the earth to flinders. We hope it’s the former but can’t rule out that it’s the latter until we get eyes on the ground. Which is where you come in. We airdrop you half a mile offshore, you scoot in and get us some intel. If it’s a tribe, make no contact, bug out fast. We don’t screw around with indigenous people any more. The sentinelese were a lesson learned. If they’re evil doers, proceed with whatever you feel is the necessary course of action.”

‘Wetwork?” It’s a good question to get out of the way. Being invisible is more difficult than no witnesses.

“Only if necessary, we’re not trying to start an international incident with a bloodbath.”

“Fair enough,” He never liked killing. It’s easy to do but hangs heavy on the heart. He tries not to show that it bothers him. In this line of work, Empathy isn't necessarily frowned upon, but it will not get you a promotion so he hides the sadness behind a ridiculous mustache and moves forward.

“Back-up?” He asks, not expecting much.

“You’ll have comms and a handler but nothing on the ground.”

“Weapons?”

“Whatever you can find. We don’t want a semi auto falling into the hands of uncontacted tribes so use what you can find on the island. If you’re going to need weapons, there will already be weapons there somewhere.”

He's been there before. Wearing an earpiece, a stranger telling him the layout and feeding him intel while he reports the details back to them. Hoping to find an arsenal, maybe a medkit. It’s all pretty standard. When he finishes looking over the maps and digesting the files only one question remains.

“When do I drop?”

“Tomorrow.” He says, handing over a plane ticket to Honolulu. "You should leave now. Your plane leaves at 6, you have 3 hours."

Fleeing the office, ticket in hand, he gives the cube farm a long desired, “Fuck you Lewis!” and hits the door.

A short bus ride, efficient shower, and long Lyft later, he's on his way home.

(To Be Continued)

[maplecornia]

chapter 9

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.61K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: this chapter makes me laugh, especially the scene with Jojo and Namjoon.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags:@kookaine |@fangirl125reader |@kookiebbyxx |@taradevonne

You’ve been waiting for an hour.

Tilting your head back, you sigh, extremely bored.

You've tried everything you could think of to bypass the time. Reading, writing, watching YouTube, then switching over to Netflix, even attempting to doze in the slightly uncomfortable waiting room chair.

None of them have worked.

Currently, you're doodling in your sketchbook, but no concrete idea comes to mind for the sketch. Leaving you with tiny flowers, faces, and body parts on the page as though it were a practice sheet.

Peering over the sketchbook, you scan the room for any sign of life, but as the day has dragged on, so has the crowd.

You don't see any sign of Kim Namjoon anywhere, and the receptionist hasn't called you over ever since you turned in the forms she gave you. Uninterested, your eyes glazing over, you pull out your phone, peering at the time.

12:30 pm.

Heaving a sigh, you tilt your head back, the music playing through your GalaxyBuds. Yet it does no good to lift your spirits.

You suppose it's only fair, you made him wait, now it's his turn.

Setting your phone down once more, you purse your lips, as your gaze falls on a flower swaying in the wind outside.

It's the only flower you can see amongst the bush. It stands almost forlornly in the midst of multiple of its fellow brethren withered around it. Still, it stands strong, unwilling to fall victim to the harsh weather outside.

A thought crossing your mind, you turn to your sketchbook, quickly turning the page and beginning a vigorous sketch before you lose your idea.

Unbeknownst to you, as you progress halfway through the sketch, Kim Namjoon bursts into the lobby, looking out of breath and flustered.

He wears a bright white T-shirt, one with a small black Nike emblem across his left pectoral muscle. It hangs sort of loose around his neck, his collarbone visible as cooling sweat causes him to glisten like a bright star.

It's not as noticeable, considering that he wears a thick black sweatshirt zipped down around his shoulders. It's simple, with thin white stripes running down the sleeves and white soft underlining to it.

The black sweats he wears seem to fit with the outfit, the same white stripes running down each pant leg. Each piece of clothing has a Nike emblem on it and pairs well with the white Nike AirForces he wears on his feet.

They’re simple but rich clothes and bring to mind the same clothes Jungkook was wearing before.

The cooling sweat on his skin and the way his hair falls a bit messily underneath his cap could lead to the presumption that they were doing a major dance practice before all of this.

No matter the case, he didn't expect the meeting to take this long, and he feels terrible for making you wait, despite everything. As he looks for any sign of you, he doesn't find any.

Worried that you have already left, he knocks on the front desk, gathering the attention of the receptionist that helped you earlier. Kim Jojo raises her head, and as she catches sight of RM, her eyes widen just the slightest bit, but not enough for him to notice.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Namjoon, what can I--”

“Yes, yes hello.” Namjoon interrupts her, too panicked to care about formalities.

He wants to catch you before you get tired of waiting and leave. First impressions are everything to him, and if he has a bad one…Shaking the worry away, he leans forward over the counter separating the receptionist from him and she flinches away at the sudden closeness.

RM either doesn't notice or doesn't care, but either way, he meets her with an intent stare, every word uttered from his lips urgent and careful.

“Has anyone by the name of Lin Yen come in?” The receptionist opens her mouth to respond but before she can say anything, he holds up a finger.

A thought having crossed his mind, he reaches into his back pocket, bringing out his phone. He tries to bring up the picture of you while Jojo stands there, half in shock, half in annoyance. As soon as he finds it, he lets out a little victory shout, one that startles her.

Grinning, he presents it to her, and she peers at a strange picture of you. After she looks at it, Jojo pulls back, her brows crinkling in confusion.

“She looks like this. If she came in, could you please tell me? I've been waiting since 8:00 this morning to meet her.” Jojo sighs, trying to gain her composure before responding.

“Mr. Namjoon--” she begins, but Namjoon interrupts once more.

“She’s my new assistant, you see, and I need to begin her training today. She needs to know the ropes before our busy season comes back around.” He explains, pulling the phone back and trying to pocket it once more.

Instead, he ends up knocking over a container filled with an assortment of pens and pencils. Surprised, he fumbles to pick it up but ends up spilling it all over the floor. Cursing under his breath, he reaches down to pick up some pencils that have fallen.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Jojo picks up the container, righting it on the counter with a loud thud. Startled, RM glances up at her eyes wide, and she smiles sweetly.

“Please, just leave it.” She says between her teeth. He shrugs, almost reluctantly standing. She sighs in relief, carefully putting the pens and pencils back in their place.

“Now...Mr. Namjoon, please listen--” once more, she cannot finish, Namjoon unable to shut up to save his life.

“I’m sorry, but if you need any more information on her I could--”

“Kim Namjoon!” This time it's Jojo's turn to interrupt him, her patience finally wearing thin.

RM instantly falls silent, a bit surprised at the outburst.

Jojo takes a steadying breath before continuing.

“Now, the person you are talking about has already come in. I told her you were in a meeting and had her wait in the waiting room for you to return.” At the information, RM turns to the waiting room where he catches sight of you for the first time in real life.

He notices you vigorously sketching out your idea. Smiling, he can't help but smile at the familiarities he finds in you. You look exactly like the picture Jaejin sent, despite how weird it was.

“I had expected to receive a notice of your return, so I could send her to you, but now that you're here….” Namjoon turns away from you and flashes his contagious smile at Jojo who is once more taken aback.

“Thank you,” Namjoon says with gratitude, reaching across the desk and holding her hand as he bows before turning away.

Jojo, watching him go, turns beet red before collapsing behind the desk in exhaustion. Another fellow receptionist cries out with alarm before tending to her in concern.

You, once more, having no awareness of the events happening around you, continue to sketch. Having finished the rough sketch you begin to define every line, detail, and curve. As you work, you bite the inside of your cheek, sometimes licking your lips in your trance of concentration.

When you're lost in your mind of imagination and creativity, nothing from the outside world can distract you.

And yes, that also includes a very tall, very real version of Kim Namjoon striding towards you.

You don't look up as he comes within a few feet in front of you. You don't even notice as he bends to your eye level, trying to catch your attention. It doesn't break your concentration, even as you reach for an eraser, lightly humming to the music playing in your ears. He smiles, almost laughing at your concentration before he covers his mouth, trying to be quiet so that you don't notice he’s there.

Trying to tease you, he carefully (as much as he’s able) sits down next to you. He was planning on pulling out one of your GalaxyBuds and surprising you, but as he catches a glimpse of your work, he’s stopped cold.

It's breathtaking.

You have created an awestruck image of a woman, on her knees. She wails out in agony as she sits amongst a pile of ash, flecks of it falling around her as though there's a fire burning nearby.

However, that’s not what catches Namjoon’s eye.

Amongst the ash, if anyone looks closely, they'll be able to see that there are small, scattered remains of bones hidden.

She sits amongst them, wailing, the look on her face one of pure anguish and sorrow as the ash from the fading bones stains her skin and her dress.

As though she has lost everyone she’s held, dear.

RM can't seem to look away, entranced by the grotesque beauty of the image and the talent of the artist.

He admires the way you set it up, the way you created the girl imperfectly, but still real. Because after all, who in real life is perfect? As he watches your pencil move expertly across the page, he can't help but think that with each stroke, the creation grows more and more lifelike.

As though she were truly crying out in the pain her heart brings. As though she were alive and breathing.

Almost against his wishes, his hand reaches out to touch the paper, if only to make sure that the actual sketch is truly a mere fabrication of pencil and paper.

As his fingers graze the parchment, that is when you snap out of your concentration.

Eyes widening, you jolt up straight, immediately turning to look at your side.

As soon as your eyes meet Namjoon’s, his hand flinches off the paper. He lets out a soft gasp as he flinches away, surprised by your sudden attention.

Just like with Jungkook, you're frozen in place.

Unable to move.

Unable to function.

Unable to speak.

And just like Jungkook, Namjoon is the same way.

But for a different reason.

He was caught in the act, and he doesn't know what to do.

Your eyes hold him in a sort of bind.

For a moment he forgets what he was doing there, he forgets what his purpose is, for a moment he even forgets why you are there.

For a split second, it's just you and him in a pocket in space.

Your eyes holding his, his eyes holding yours.

Kim Namjoon.

The leader of BTS. The first member of the group you have grown to love. Talented, handsome, a practical genius, he is just as mature and intimidating as you expected him to be.

Despite how close the two of you are sitting, he still seems larger than life, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even real.

He doesn't seem like it after all.

His skin seems too real, too perfect. His hair is too soft, too smooth. His eyes are too warm and too brown.

Almost exactly like the milky chocolate brown you’ve seen so often in so many photos, except for one thing.

As you stare into them, you can see life so clearly alight in them. How they reveal so many emotions at the same time. There are so many that it's almost impossible to read them at all. Serene and peaceful, they are poets' eyes.

So emotional, yet so mysterious and secretive at the same time.

Dreamboat eyes.

“Kim Namjoon?” you whisper, almost unsure if it's him or not.

As you do, his face makes that mixed expression between confusion and amusement as he chuckles softly, looking away and breaking the connection. Holding his hand up to his mouth, he nods, clearing his throat, but not saying anything for a moment.

“Yes, that's who I am, and you must be...Lin Yen?” your heart jumps at the fact that he knows your name.

Speechless, all you can do is nod mutely as he utters another adorable chuckle, one that always seems to remind you of Goofy.

“Jaejin didn't tell me you were an artist.” As soon as he says that, you notice that your sketchbook is still open, and showcasing your imperfect, unready sketch.

Panicking, you fumble to get it closed. Blushing, you hug it tightly to your chest, as though it could erase the fact that he just got a sneak peek into your very soul.

“What's wrong? It was good!” RM asks, worried.

Biting your bottom lip in trepidation, you shake your head, hiding your face.

“Don't lie….” you mumble.

You know it wasn't close to being done, and it wasn't nearly as perfect as it could have been. You're quite disappointed in it at the moment. You feel as though it was too rushed due to the many ideas pouring out from your brain at the exact moment.

As you take an ashamed peek at Namjoon, you find him staring at you, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“What's wrong, are you okay?” he asks, tilting his head as though you were a shy child. You smirk, playing along and nodding very slowly before he continues.

“I see. You should know, however, that you are very talented.” At the compliment, you snort in disbelief, shoving the sketchbook and pencils back safely in your satchel.

“Please.” You sigh. “I know I'm no Picasso, and certainly not talented.”

Finished with packing your art supplies, you are reminded of the reason you are here. A blush of shame appearing on your cheeks, you turn to Namjoon, a bit guiltily.

“And I’m also not known as the bird to rise before the worm.” RM seems a bit confused before you stand and bow to him in apology.

“I am so sorry for being late today. You see I….”

Remembering the receptionist's words from before, you decide to keep the reason to yourself.

“....I have nothing to say for myself. I'm sincerely sorry.”

“Please, there’s no need for that,” Namjoon responds, standing himself and tapping you on the shoulder.

At the touch, you stand straight, only to find an extremely tall man standing before you, looking more intimidating than before. Heart beating fast you gulp, stepping back a bit.

Luckily, he doesn't notice your act of distance and just smiles at you before continuing.

“After all, I was late as well, so let's call it even, huh?”

You smirk and nod, thankful that he’s not too angry about it, but it doesn't completely erase your guilt.

“But now that you mention it….” Namjoon starts and intrigued, you glance up to see him back up a bit as well.

Confused, you raise an eyebrow before he holds out his hand to you.

“My name is Kim Namjoon, I’ll be your boss during your time here. First and foremost, welcome to BigHit entertainment, I hope you enjoy your time working here with us.” He introduces himself, warmly.

Catching on, you take his hand, shaking it gently, and trying to ignore the fact that yours is much more like a child's compared to his.

“Hello, Mr. Namjoon! It's a pleasure to finally meet you, my name is Lin Yen and I look forward to working with you!” you respond, returning his grin with one of your own.

After you're finished introducing yourself, he releases your hand and steps back, taking your satchel in his hands and handing it to you.

“Well, Ms. Lin, are you ready to begin?” He asks, and you accept the offer, hiking the satchel on your shoulder before looking up at him in expectation.

“Where do we start?”

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: first day at work is finally starting, yall excited? eheheehehe get ready for some namjooon and yen moments to come

chapter 10 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

[eunsthings]

Museums

Part 3 I Questions?

Part 2 II Series masterlist II Part 4

Back in your class. the professor in front of you was talking about parasites. The last lecture for the day had passed with a series of slides filled with “fascinating” illustrations. With your back hurting, you subtly stretch your body; careful not to draw unnecessary attention. It was a long day, yet it was only two in the afternoon.  

“Thank goodness I have time to relax,” your lazy self has emerged once again.  

The click of your dorm door and the welcoming presence of your bed was the greatest feeling ever. Painfully switching your attention, you prepare for a quick shower. You took your phone to put on your bed, took some clothes to change into afterwards, then proceeded to head to your floor’s communal bathroom.  

As the water was pouring down on you, thoughts invaded your head. It had been the other day that you were hired for a huge job. They still haven’t reached back out yet and you aren’t able to do anything regarding the job since you had no idea what to do. They… or Tsukishima rather, hadn’t contacted you despite saying he will­—within a day or two. It had almost been 48 hours.  

“Why am I such an over-thinker?”  

You recover and assure yourself that it was all fine. It’s out of your control anyway. They can message you anytime. After all, you had given him your number.  

Finished, you dry yourself up and change into your fresh clothes before heading out and back to your room.  

You're greeted by the presence of your roommate sitting on your bed—the bottom bunk.  

“Hey,” you called out to her.  

“Hello,” she replied, eyes not meeting yours, still occupied with her phone.  

Holding your used clothes, you proceeded to fold them and put them away to be washed along with your week-old towel. Now your self-relaxation can begin… but where was your phone?

Lazing around would not be complete without it, you needed to scroll through YouTube comments while watching a video.  

“Wait just a minute-,” you face your roomie. “Isabella…”  

Whilst sitting on your bed, she gave you a cheeky expression; caught scrolling through your phone. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it. It was just sitting there.”  

“How did you even know the password?” A kind of annoyed amazement washed over you. You had nothing to hide anyway so there was no major problem.  

“In case you forgot, I live up–” she gestured to the top bunk, “–there.”  

“Dumb. Dumb as hell,” You had been careless. She could peek from above.  

“Anyway… Who is this guy?” Her tone was teasing with a mischievous face to go along with it. It made you worried.  

“What guy–” Oh no. It can’t be. Can it?  You grabbed your phone from her and saw why the idiot was smirking. It was a message from Tsukishima.  

     The message was straight to the point and yet your blockhead roommate still kept giving you knowing looks. She didn’t even know the reason for the message. She was jumping leaps and bounds to conclusions. This, you felt, was not going to go away anytime soon.  

“I was hired for another job”  

“Yeah, yeah. Sure~” She got up from your bed and languidly went for her desk. “Just don’t mind me, I’ll be studying here...” She dramatically gestures to her small workspace.  Facing her, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed yet wanting to take that grin off her face.  

On your bed, you go back to the message. “On Wednesday.” It is a few days from now.

Checking your schedule, you were free on that day and the morning after. The timing though. Well, it wasn’t as if you were complaining, in fact, it was very good news. One less problem for you.  

You replied to Tsukishima then. The anxiety was eating you. A simple reply yet so many ways to screw up.  

“WHAT. DID I SEND?! Did he really leave me on ‘read’? Anyway~” So that is done. Now to relax. No need for self-criticism.  

On Wednesday, nine on the dot, you arrived in front of the museum.  

Draped around your neck, you show your loaned ID to the guard and pass through on to the building. Inside, some big boxes and various pieces have been placed on the hallway’s floor.

That must be for the event... wow they are already starting this early on. It again dawned on you how big of an event it is; starting to make preparations this early on. The pressure was beginning to feel real.  

“Hello.”  

“Oh, that voice again” you turn around to greet him but you didn’t get the chance to.  

“(L/N), this is Kazumi Keiko, my fellow intern,” he gestured to the lady beside him. Looking up at her, she seemed friendly, motherly almost; her long hair tied back and with freckles on her face. Although you take it, she was older than you and Tsukishima.

“Hello, nice to meet you Kazumi,” you reply although softly. She smiles a warm smile at you.  

“So now we're just waiting for Kazumi’s partner, Ike--- never mind she’s here”

“Hey guyssss!” A female about your age was waving behind the glass doors. Kazumi was gesturing with her hand beckoning the girl to enter. “How come she gets to be partners with Kazumi and I’m with the boy Tsukishima? This will just be utter awkwardness from me I bet,” you try to see the reasoning why it couldn’t have been you partnered with Kazumi.

“Hey, I’m Ikeda, Satsuki,” she was very direct, it caught you off-guard.

“Hi. I’m (L/N), (F/N).”

 “Wow, nice name! It’s foreign, I like it. Do you want a Snickers?” Glancing down, she had in her hand a Snickers bar being handed out to you. “Uh, no, no, I’m fine. You--” you got caught off by Kazumi. “(L/N), you better just take that or we’ll be stuck here a long time.”

“Oh ok, sure. Thank you, Ikeda,” you take the Snickers bar from her hand giving her a tight but genuine smile. She returned the gesture. From what you observed, she has a pretty happy-go-lucky character and you realize why Ikeda might be partnered with Kazumi; it was to manage Ikeda, Satsuki.

Tsukishima continued, “So for today Mr. Yasuhiro instructed us all to divide the work and just find a plan around it...”

That meeting ended about 15 minutes ago.  Now, you’re walking the streets of Sendai, side-by-side, with the tall man of partner for work. How did it come to this...?

The central matter you discussed was how the work was going to be divided. You and Tsukishima were to handle the main big projection for the event while Team Kazumi will handle multiple small displays around the museum. You didn’t get into too much detail but for now that was it. The details were to be discussed by the pair. Great... By the time your gathering finished it was past noon; late lunch.

“There’s still the rest of the day so I’m bringing Ikeda with me to lunch. We’ll be talking about ‘this’ after.” Kazumi was definitely wasting no time. “How about you guys?” She faced Tsukishima.

Oh no...

“Uh...” he glanced at you. Oh no. No, no. “You don’t have anything to do this afternoon right?”

I have no escape from this. “Yeah, my whole day is free”

“Well, I guess we could all get lunch.” He asked Kazumi now, “Where are you guys going?”

“A Western inspired cafe just a walking distance from here, it just opened so I wanna try it out”

Tsukishima took his coat and bag then went for the door. “Let’s go then.”  

“Wait... I still have to buy some things along the way, I want Kazumi to come with me. Can you two go ahead and reserve seats for us?” Ikeda protested, as childish as ever.

Kei halted, “Uh, yeah sure. I don’t see how that’s a problem.”

Not a problem... right.

“(L/N), are you fine with this?” The ever-motherly Kazumi made sure to check up on you.

Without any excuse whatsoever, “Yes, I’m ok with anything guys.” Darn it. Social Interaction.

“Ehem...” After a rather long walk of silence. Tsukishima cleared his throat. “Are you fine there?”

“Hmm...” You glance up at him; not expecting any talk. “Oh yeah, I’m fine here. You?”

“Uh-huh. Same here”

Awkward...but still you continue to walk side-by-side.

“You know, I’m not really a talkative person,” Tsukishima started again, “but Mr. Yasuhiro told me to ‘make an effort’ because you ‘tend to be shy,’” oh, is that how this guy sees me too? Ouch.

“I get what he means but...” he side-glanced to see you, it made your eyes meet his for a small while, “…some people prefer not talking at all and some are uncomfortable doing so. In short... I’m asking you if you would be comfortable with me trying to talk to you...”

Ohhhh... man, this guy is considerate. What a nice person.

“Yes, yeah. I’m really fine with people talking to me first. I just don’t really like to initiate a conversation plus I don’t want to be a nuisance to them... and like you said, I ‘tend to be shy.’”

“So, are you fine if I ask you questions?”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.” You really felt delighted; a person actually respected that not all people are the same in terms of talkativeness. It’s not every day you meet someone like that.

Unbeknownst to you, it was Tsukishima’s goal in earnest to make you comfortable around him; to the best of his ability.  You do have to work on a project together after all.

A few moments of walking and you both arrived in the café. True to her word, what Kazumi said by “western inspired” actually really means an absolutely western café.

Tsukishima, the unexpected gentleman, opened the door for you as you both entered. You give him a smile in thanks; he returned a small smile too.  

Looking around, it seems like rush-hour has passed and the café is almost empty. That means you don’t have to worry about reserving seats for Kazumi and Ikeda, then.  

“Would you prefer seats by, or away from the window?”

You imagined eating by the window as others pass by... “I think away from the window”

“Same here.” He then led you to a table for 4 by the wall. He breezily pulled a chair and motioned for you to sit on it as if it were no big deal.  

Oh my. This is kind of flustering.

Tsukishima received a text from Kazumi saying that they’ll be late and to order and eat ahead of them; and so, you both did. A waitress handed you menus then left the both of you to choose your orders. He ordered smoked salmon while you went with lasagna. For dessert he asked you what you wanted but you’d told him you’ll have bobba instead; he got a strawberry shortcake.

“So, while waiting for our food, and Kuzumi, I do have to bring back the fact that we're going to be working together on this project and we barely know each other. So...” across from you, he gives you a “you get where I’m headed with this” look on his face.

You nodded. “Mhmm”  

“Right, should we ask each other questions?”

“Yeah, I think that’s the easiest way.”

“Ok, I’ll go first. You’re in university, right? What are you studying?”

“Oh, I’m a veterinary student”

“Oh, wow. That’s very impressive.” You responded with a smile and small chuckle, “Oh, no... not really.”

It was your turn. “If I recall correctly, you are in the museum as an intern. What are you doing if you’re not there?”

“Well, aside from attending school, I also have volleyball to face but that’s all.”  

Confused with his vague answer, “Volleyball?”

“Hm... uh,” for the first time ever since you met him, the usually stoic guy looked... bashful. “I play for V.League Division 2,” he looks unsure if you knew what it was and made an attempt to explain it. But when he saw your eyes wide with amazement, he stopped fidgeting with his hands. “I’m taking it that you know what that is...”

You didn’t really dabble too much in sports, volleyball was no exception. Sure, you watched an anime about volleyball; got addicted, and friends mention volleyball from time-to-time too, all that was enough to know what V.League meant. “Now that’s impressive.”

He grinned. “Heh. Well, I don’t really know about that…but now it’s my turn to ask. How did you get into animating?”

“Oh,” you let out a heartfelt laugh, caught unaware of the question.

Hearing it, Kei couldn't help but suppress his blissful smile.

“I always liked animating but it was a friend who forced me to actually do something about it,” remembering your laziness and your pestering friend was a goofy memory but a treasured one.

“Is this the same friend that left you in the museum?”

Joy came over you and you chuckled again, “how did you even remember that?”

“I mean, that was just a few days ago and who can forget someone who got left behind by a friend?”

“She isn’t bad, she just had to hurry out. I swear, she’s a reliable person most times.”

You haven’t noticed it but Tsukishima's goal was slowly realized as the air of awkwardness and tension gave out. You were too giddy to realize anything; you felt weirdly safe and became chattier.

In front of you, Tsukishima looked to be amused; a rare smile plastered on his face. “I had a somewhat same experience back in high school,” again, he sported a surprisingly charming smile on his face.

Curiosity overtook as you continued to prod, “what happened in high school?”  

“Well, simply put, I wasn’t overly fond of volleyball then. A lot of people paved the way to make me love it. In a way, I relate."  

“Wow, your friends were really good for doing that.”

“Hahaha.. yeah. I was kind of forced the first time around,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s your turn to question.”

“Oh, right.” Attention span of a goldfish. “What position do you play?”

“I... Am a middle blocker”

“Well, that’s fitting to say the least. Is it fun playing your position?"

“Yes. I find it fun especially seeing anguished faces across the net after a good block.” You cracked a smile at that, he didn’t seem to be the type to find fun in that manner.

 “My turn to ask. Are you comfortable talking to me now?” Upon asking that, he faced you with genuine concern, you didn’t even realize you were talking to him casually and without uneasiness.

“Yeah, I think so.” You finish it with a smile.

He flashed a quick smirk in response. For he, after a lengthy while, has finally made progress with the person in front of him.

Part 2 II Series masterlist II Part 4

Notes:

Y/N doesn’t really use Tsukki’s name in her head’s dialogue cause she’s still uneasy🤕

and yes we use messenger... pls don’t mind 🥺

guys this is a veryyy slow burn i hope you guys stickkkk around☺️

it’s been a very long time since the last. but better late right??😅😅

𝑨𝒍𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒐. 𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈!!! ^-^

𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈♡

=tags below=

[incoherentbabblings]

Tim gets himself turned into a cat for a week and is forced to stay at Stephanie's until the spell wears off on its own. Honestly, it's not as traumatic as it sounds. For Tim.

“I refuse to take responsibility,” Damian said. He was holding a glossy short haired black cat with a long face and sharp features. It had big bat ears and lovely big blue eyes whose pupils dilated when Stephanie looked at it. Damian held it out for Stephanie to take, lower legs dangling from a slim body. Its tail whipped from side to side, irritated.

Apparently, it was Tim after one ill-informed altercation with that magician villain who the Teen Titans and the Flash fought occasionally.

Stephanie smiled tightly to the point where Damian thought she was in physical pain.

“Do you want to come in? Have a cup of cocoa maybe?”

“Not even slightly. I have a litter box and some compostable wood pellets for litter,”

Oh my God –

“and father insisted that someone within Gotham care for him until this passes whilst he is off planet. Zatanna says it will end on its own in a week and is less likely to end in permanent brain damage than trying to reverse it artificially. More brain damage than Drake already –”

“Yes, Damian, I get it.” Stephanie sighed, pouting as she inspected Tim, still patiently dangling in Damian’s outstretched arms. “Do you understand us Tim?”

The cat – Tim – yowled in a way which sounded partly like a Siamese cat and partly like an car engine struggling to start, but Damian shook his head.

“No. His brain has shrunk to the size of a peanut. Apparently, he will remember nothing, which is good, all things considered.”

Stephanie frowned, then leaned down directly into the cats eyeline.

“Would you rather stay with me over Damian?” she asked it, regardless. “I guess it makes sense, mom is visiting Florida for the week…” she mused out loud, feeling supremely stupid.

Tim yowled again, and his pupils impossibly grew bigger.

Groaning, Stephanie conceded. “Fine, but –” wasting no time, Damian practically tossed the cat into her arms. She caught Tim clumsily, and he meowed in distress, scrambling up to cling to her shoulders.

“Ow, ow, ow! Claws. Claws, Tim ow!”

She held him tight under his little bum, and as she watched Damian run back to the Alfred chauffeured car for the bits and pieces she would need. Stephanie turned, leaving the front door open, and went upstairs to her room. Tim clung to her tightly, little claws making an imprint in her skin. When she reached her bed she leaned forward, letting him turn on his own and land on his feet in the centre of the mattress. He plopped down, sitting perfectly straight with his tail still swishing, and watched her as she proceeded to help Damian move all the pieces of kit inside. She placed the litter tray in the bathroom, wondering briefly about those YouTube videos she’d seen of cats using the toilet could be applicable. She sighed as she sat the plastic tray down, wiggling little wood pellets a couple of inches deep. Tim had come over to join her in the door frame. He looked up at her, and she looked down at him.

“Tim, I’m going to be scooping up your poo and pee. You better give me a big boon when this all over.”

Tim mewled, and to Stephanie it sounded like a bargain had been struck. Damian handed her a plastic bag filled with cat food – whatever Pennyworth did not wish to eat he explained – then left her to it.

“Do not let him go outside.”

“Yes, Damian.”

His round cheeks puffed up, and the bridge of his nose turned red like it did when he was embarrassed.

“Thank you, Stephanie.”

Somewhat mollified, Stephanie said he was welcome and then Damian and Alfred were gone. Shutting the front door, she turned around to see Tim sitting on the stairs, watching her.

Stephanie jumped, unnerved.

“How much of your peanut sized brain is like… at human level smartness?” she asked.

Tim sat quietly for a moment, watching her with those unnatural icy blue eyes. His tail, disproportionately long, smacked against the floor with a heavy thump.

“None then. Well, still, let me know when you want feeding. Or bathroom breaks so I can clean it up before it stinks out the house. I have to work on college. So… go take a nap or something. You probably need one.”

Tim blinked, stepped down the stairs, went through to the living room, sat on her sofa, and rested his head down. Like the cat he was, he was soon asleep in the late afternoon sun.

Stephanie followed him curiously, peered over the back of the couch, admiring his glossy coat then shook her limbs loose.

Just another day in the life, she told herself.

Having her ex-boyfriend slash transmogrified cat living with her for a week. Sure. Cats were distant creatures, and so were her and Tim in recent years. They could get through this week, surely.

Oddly, having another creature in the house made her feel more lonely.

 *****

 Tim had enough self-awareness to realise he was in fact a cat, but also not enough self-awareness to realise that there were certain behaviours he should not indulge in.

Nobody believed him that he could understand what was being said, so he decided to just go with the flow for the next six days. Abdicate all responsibility. Be feral. Receive the occasional pat on the head. All in good fun. Bizarrely, he was enjoying the drama of it all.

The first issue came about at dinner. He had woken from his nap with a hunger that he had never in his eighteen years (did that make him around two years old in cat years?) of life felt before. It was as if he had not eaten in weeks he was starving he was voracious he –

Needed help in opening tin cans.

Dammit.

Honestly, Tim would have been feeling much more humiliated and more willing to jump out of a window to end it all if he was not so sure that he would instinctively land on his feet.

Just a week. And Stephanie would take care of him, loathe as he was to admit it. She would find it uncomfortable and painful with each interaction, so he would take great care in staying out of her way. Things were awkward enough between them without the knowledge that she was going to have to brush him and feed him and clean up his poops and hairballs (he loathed how easily the concept of grooming came to him). He didn’t need to inflict anymore grief on her than she had already reluctantly accepted.

None of this stopped him from being very hungry when he woke up. He needed food. Preferably ten minutes ago.

He leapt down with a solid thud from Stephanie’s sofa, shaking his head to clear any remaining nap time fuzziness, then plodded upstairs. To his own ears, it sounded very cheery.

She had left her bedroom door slightly ajar, and Tim slid in. She did not hear him enter on account of her having a giant pair of red headphones blasting music at far too loud a volume to be good for her hearing. Or rather, he assumed they were red. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that his vision had been altered. Shades of red and green blended together in assorted shades of yellow and brown, and even the blues of the world was washed out and pale. Everything had a slight blur to it, especially for objects further away. When he had first been held up to Stephanie, he realised that the blue of her eyes now seemed almost grey, and her skin was sickly. Of this change, Tim hated the most.

She was leaning over piles of notes, hands stained with highlighter and pen ink. Tim noted her expression and found he did not like it.

She looked very sad.

He meowed to try and get her attention, but with her music playing as loud as it was, she did not hear him. Drastic measures were needed. He would soon be dead from starvation before too long.

He slinked up to the side of her chair, noting the convenient space between her lap, chest and desk. He looked up at her, yowling one more time to try and give her warning, but she did not notice.

Tim blinked slowly. Her eyes were wet.

He leapt up onto her lap, fully expecting her to shriek, to lift and throw him across the room reflexively. However, she just gasped gently, surprise quickly fading, and laughed. Good. The wet look in her eyes vanished with genuine joy. She paused her music, clumsily taking off the headphones and setting them on the desk. She adjusted her lap so Tim could sit more steadily and rested her hands at the base of his back and tail, scratching absentmindedly. He chittered at her and she raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“What?” she whispered conspiratorially. Oh, she was enjoying this. Tim grumbled, body vibrating, then hopped up another level onto her desk. With a purposeful tap, he smacked her wrist.

“What is it you little goblin?”

Rude. Tim yowled, and paced back and forth. Stephanie huffed, reaching to pick him up and put him down. When she turned, she saw her alarm clock on her bedside table. It was six o’clock.

“The time?” Her eyes widened with realisation. “Oh? Dinner time?”

His loud, drawn out meow made her wince, but she nodded all the same. “Alright then sir, come on. Let’s see what we can do for you.”

He merrily leapt down from her arms, jogging away down the stairs to the kitchen. Jumping up on the counter, he pawed insistently at the food still in the plastic bags Damian had brought. Food. He needed food. He was wasting away; why couldn’t she see…

“Right, what did Damian gift us with… Oh. Biscuits huh?”

Tim froze. Cat food. He was going to have to eat cat food.

He was a cat. But not that much. He was finding it difficult enough to imagine going in that litter box in not too long. He quietly made a little meow, distressed.

Stephanie opened the bag, and the smell of dry crunchy biscuits filled the air. Tim visibly gagged, and Stephanie quickly resealed the container.

“Yeah, I agree there Timbo. I can’t give you the wet food either, that jelly is disgusting... but your stomach can’t handle human stuff. You’re a carnivore now bud.”

She hemmed and hawed, opening assorted cupboards, looking for something suitable. Tim meowed mournfully. He was going to starve unless he ate the biscuits, but he so did not want to eat the biscuits.

“Oh!” Stephanie chirped, pulling a tin down. She held it up to him for inspection. “Tuna in spring water. That’ll do, right? But how much…”

Tim paced frantically back and forth as she googled portion sizes. Starving, starving, he was skin and bones, no chance for recovery. It had been eight hours since he last ate, how did she expect him to –

She placed a shallow dish in front of him, half of the can placed sweetly in front of him. She then placed down a small glass bowl, filled with fresh water. Uncaring of his dignity, he began to eat voraciously.

Stephanie leaned on the counter, watching him do so.

“I’m sorry there’s no milk. I heard cats are actually lactose intolerant, so just water for you this week.”

Tim ignored her, so delighted with the taste of fresh tuna that the lack of milk was so far down his list of priorities. It was only when Stephanie, in an apparent act of madness, reached down and ran a hand from his temple all the way along his back to the tip of his tail did he look up. Somewhere in the back of his little kitty brain, he noted that his muscles had tensed up, rising to the pressure of her hand as it made its way down his spine to make the contact firmer. Her hand was warm. He looked up from his feast, confused.

She was still smiling, but it looked melancholy to Tim.

“I don’t think you can actually understand me,” she said quietly, half speaking to herself. “Which is pretty expected for us. I think it’s just the fact that you’re a vocal kitty who isn’t going to remember anything in six days’ time. Which is just as well. I can tell you all my secrets then?”

Tim wanted to protest her falsehoods but found the taste of tuna too distracting.

Stephanie continued, “I’m going to go on patrol now. There’s been a monster of a case I’m getting nowhere with. I’m having another go tonight. Don’t sleep on my bed when I’m away okay?”

Tim wanted very much to yowl, to let her know that he could understand, and to ask her why she was being so mopey. It seemed more than just a sadness over his situation. He wanted to explain that, honestly, he was fine with it. Well, not fine. But he had endured much worse. He knew it was temporary, he knew things would return to normal soon, and he was warm, looked after and almost looking forward to a week’s peace.

So what if he was a slightly goofy looking black cat who had the sudden urge to lick himself clean every few minutes? In the grand scheme of trauma he had undergone in his short life, shitting in a box was pretty low on the list.

He tried to tell her it was fine, only to drop tuna all over the counter. In a fumbled attempt to clean up after himself, he licked the surface clean. Stephanie groaned, then rose away from him.

“Enjoy the evening Tim. Don’t bother me when I get back. Don’t puke anywhere.”

Tim, in fact, did not puke that night. He did use the litter box however and hated it. He tried very hard to make as little mess as possible, ensuring all the litter stayed within the box. He was here because of Stephanie’s good nature; he was not about to blow it.

He did, at around 3am, however, experience what he had heard Selina refer to as ‘the zoomies’. It was a frantic pent-up energy that he did not know how to expel. The only way that came to mind was to dash across the house in a desperate attempt to tire himself out so he could return to sleep. So, he ran, up and down the stairs, leaping off the banisters and hopping over chairs and coffee tables. He did so, bored out of his mind, until he saw the lights of her vehicle pull up. He ran up the stairs in time for Batgirl to crawl through her window. He sat patiently in her doorway, waiting for the right moment to greet her, when he saw she collapsed to the floor with a distinctive and heartrending cry of pain. His little heart pounded painfully at the sound, but he did not move.

He watched as she cursed up a storm, correcting her position so she could take off her costume piece by piece. She did so wincing, crying out, and swearing with each painful movement. If she had someone to help her, she would have been able to get ready for bed in much less agony. Whatever she had dealt with this night, it had been rough.

She crawled around on the floor, apparently unable to walk now that the adrenaline had worn off. She remained in her shorts and sports bra, and without showering, crawled into bed. Tim watched as she reached into her bedside table, pulled out two painkillers, and like a baby, swallowed them with some water from a sports bottle that stood nearby.

He thought he heard her very quietly cry to herself, but that couldn’t be. Stephanie did not cry. His hearing had been different since the transformation last night, sounds and noises did not compute the way they used to. The sound she was making very quickly stopped though, and instead Tim heard her very determinedly whisper to herself,

“Always better in the morning.”

It wasn’t a philosophy he completely agreed with. Sometimes the morning just brought clarity of the previous day’s horror. But her odd breathing stopped, and soon it was replaced with the deep gentle snoring of someone sleeping. Finally, Tim moved. He wanted to curl up next to her. Stephanie was warm, and he had discovered recently that he liked warm places. He wanted her hand to stroke him again.

But no. She had said to stay off her bed for sleeping. She has asked him not to bother her. She certainly would not be happy to find him sleeping next to her. Tim tried to remind himself that he was only getting away with certain behaviours because of his size, and there were some boundaries that he should not cross. What if she woke up in the morning, only to find that the spell had worn off early, and there was a naked human Tim Drake in her bed?

Oh no. That would be very embarrassing.

Besides, he didn’t have that kind of relationship with her anymore. He didn’t have the right anymore to insert himself into her space. They had decided not to pursue it. Not good for her, she’d said.

Tim could no longer remember his own reason. He suspected it was moot after she had become Batgirl.

And yet… she’d been crying. Tim wanted to help her. How could that not be good? Surely if he could provide comfort, if he wanted to provide comfort, she would allow it?

He turned away, not liking the way it felt like turning away from someone calling for help and returned to the living room sofa. He curled into a ball, and slept until the morning, whereupon the hunger pains hit him once more.

And so, a routine began. Tim would yowl like he was dying outside Stephanie’s door, reluctant to intrude whilst she slept. Eventually, Stephanie would emerge, ready to feed him chicken or another half a tin of tuna. He was not so secretly delighted at the way her eyes lit up with humour when she saw him, spinning in circles unable to contain his excitement, though Tim would note locations of bruises that had not been there the night before. She was struggling, it seemed.

She would then go take a shower, clean out his litter tray with a pithy comment, then go to class, leaving Tim bored until she would return after four, ready to clean his litter tray once more, provide dinner, then spend a couple of hours doing homework before leaving again for patrol. She would return at first light, looking more defeated with each passing sunrise. She would be smiling come the morning, but – even with a brain the size of a monkey nut – Tim saw it was shallow.

It did not escape Tim’s notice that she was going out of her way to avoid him. He understood it. She did the same thing when he was human. He would call for her help from time to time with a case, which she gave without reservation, just as she had done now for kitty him, but rarely, if ever, did she call for his aid.

Her stubborn independent streak had not abated with time it seemed, even when it came at the price of her safety.

That and she just seemed sadder than usual. Or was this usual, and he was just never around and allowed to view it?

His tiny mind whirled and churned, and with no outlet, he stewed, glaring out the window at passer-by’s and their dogs.

Regardless, on the fifth night, after hearing her stilted heart-rending sobs and half-hearted and self-inflicted words of comfort, he decided to break the one boundary she had set.

He jumped up onto the bed, moving until he had clambered on her sternum, then folded down into a loaf position. Stephanie tensed, unsure what game he was playing, until she felt him begin to purr.

She laughed brokenly, more of a whimper than a genuine expression of joy and reached up to scratch behind his ears.

Tim purred louder, to her delight.

“I’m having a bit of a rough time,” she spoke quietly in the dark, as if reluctant to break the thick, dark blanket of warmth and comfort. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be a burden.”

Tim gave a small ripple of a meow in response. She was not a burden.

“I can’t get a crack on this case,” she explained. “I make a dent, get hurt in a fight and am fine in the morning, but then so are they. I’ve hit a wall. But I have to do it alone. Bruce and Babs expect me to now… I have to…”

Her voice broke and she cut herself off. She smiled crookedly, painfully trying to dispel her sadness. Tim began to make biscuits. He didn’t understand why, but he thought the pressure would help. She was a little furnace beneath him, and he purred loudly, drowning out her shaky breathing.

Stephanie chuckled at the sensation of his little vibrating chest. She ran a hand down his back again, enjoying the smooth coat. Contradictorily once more her eyes became wet.

“Do you think, when you are back to normal, we could talk? There’s…there’s no-one else who would understand. Though I think I’d make Cass sad if I told her that. But I miss you. And I think it’s my fault.”

Tim shifted upwards, until his nose rested under her chin. He continued to purr loudly, nearly trilling with the force of it. Steph nuzzled in close and kissed his forehead and flicked his large ears.

“Silly boy. I hope you don’t remember this. You’d hate me for it.”

Tim meowed grouchily. How she could lie to herself like that…

They’d burned their bridge long ago. He knew this. And him being a cat for a week was not going to mend it. But it made his heart ache like nothing else to see her despondent. He silently promised himself that he would extend an olive branch before the end of next week. They couldn’t continue like this, tip toeing around each other with Tim occasionally stepping too close and making Steph flinch back away.

She wasn’t flinching away now though.

She picked him up so she could sleep better and set him on the pillow next to her. Turning on her side, she reached up and placed a soft, warm hand on his shoulders, rhythmically petting the fur there.

Her quiet sniffles died off, Tim’s purring acting as a lullaby, and she fell asleep before the sun rose.

Throughout the night he shifted closer, until he was practically resting on her head. He rested his chin on the crown of her head, her long golden hair acting like a silken pillow, and kept guard for the rest of the night.

 *****

 Stephanie awoke to her nose being licked. She opened her eyes blearily, and realised it was Tim cat. She blushed, remembering what had transpired last night. She told herself it was fine, opening up like that. It was only a cat. It was only Tim. Tim, who would be blissfully ignorant come the evening. Though that reminded her, she better lay out some clothes for him. Her mother was coming back at some point in the next forty-eight hours. The idea of her walking in on a naked Tim would cause a conniption.

She smooched Tim’s head, and he meowed cheerily at the wet smack, and continued to press up against her.

She had kept her distance at first, struggling to reconcile Tim with the little sleek gremlin cat meowing at her feet. It felt weird, so she – for a lack of a better term – ignored him. He would be so angry when he changed back, she wanted to avoid anything which he could extrapolate from the week as her being mocking or patronising.

Bruce’s anger she had learned to ignore, Tim’s she hadn’t figured out a knack for yet. It hurt, in a physical manner that she could not explain. Like he was kicking her in the gut again. She found herself actively taking steps now to avoid it. Avoid the concept of it.

But she was exhausted, physically, and emotionally. Years ago, when she would reach such a state, Tim would somehow figure it out and slink in through her window or take her on a quiet date. The two would hold on to each other, and let Stephanie catch her breath and perspective with a warm pillar of support behind her.  

Despite Tim now being a cat, it seemed he still had this perception, and had sought her out to give comfort. Weird how animals could sense those sorts of things.

Fuck it, she thought. It was the last day, she was feeling miserable, and there was a perfectly cuddly vibrating fluff ball in her arms, who showed no signs of irritation and instead was offering comfort that she didn’t get much of in recent years. She was going to milk this for all it was worth. Maybe she could take some photos and videos later – humiliate or blackmail Tim later. All in good fun, of course. She never wanted to genuinely upset him.

She continued to give him sweet pecks on his head back and sides, which she thought he liked, as he meowed and headbutted her.

“Sweetie,” she praised, and she picked him up to cradle him properly. He flipped over, being held like a baby, as she continued to croon, “Last day as a kitty. Tomorrow you won’t remember a thing, and we won’t be able to talk like I am now… isn’t that sad? I think we should spoil you today. Lap of luxury and all that. It’ll keep my brain busy, if nothing else.”

He pawed at her chin, and she kissed his toe beans.

She spent an embarrassingly long amount of the day starfished on the floor, playing with Tim. He was a chatty little cat, more so than he ever was as a person. His meows sounded like a revving engine and were as long as he could hold his breath. He was graceful though, despite his lanky limbs and giant ears. He leapt from surface to surface and straight into her arms with seemingly no effort, and whenever she let him roll out of her embrace, he landed neatly on his feet every single time.

Stephanie couldn’t help it, but when she pulled out a little laser from her Batgirl belt, she recorded Tim’s feral delight, chasing a speck of red across the house. She laughed more than she had in a long while, partly because it had been so long since she had seen anything so unabashedly goofy as Tim as a cat, shaking his little bum, pupils dilated larger than dinner plates, in preparation to jump a red point of light.

It was delightful and made her wonder if she could convince Crystal to adopt a cat once she returned. Poor Tim, he’d have no clue what he’d endured come the morning, but at least in that moment, he seemed happy.

When it reached eight pm, Stephanie sighed, realising she had another night of patrol to face. Selfishly, she wanted to linger, to keep company with the cat, but she quickly shook that thought off. People needed her. She wanted her case over and done with.

“One last go,” she whispered. “I can do it tonight. I’m nearly there.”

Tim hopped up onto her lap and she was sliding on her gloves. She chuckled lightly and scratched under his chin. He purred, craning his neck to allow her better access.

“I’ll lay your human clothes out for you on my bed, okay? If it’s not fixed by the time I’m back… I’ll put you in your boxers and jeans and hopefully come morning…” She got up, hoisting Tim to rest on her shoulders, and tugged one of the plastic bags Damian had left for her. To her growing dismay, she realised there was only a pair of underpants. She looked sideways, Tim peering over her left shoulder. “Oh dear, Tim. Damian really is out to get you, huh?”

He chuffed, like he was grumbling to himself. She pecked him once more, and he meowed more firmly, hopping off her shoulders as she made her way to rummage through her wardrobe.

“I don’t want my mom to come back and find you in your undies in my room and me being AWOL. That would just be one step too much for her, I think. I still have some baggy sweatshirts…pants though… pants…”

She tossed clothes haphazardly, at one point burying Tim under a pile of bras and underpants that she shrieked at, loudly and joyously, when she realised what she had done. Eventually she found a pair of jeggings which she hoped would suffice. Tim looked almost suspicious. If he had eyebrows, they would have been raised.

“You have skinny legs,” Stephanie justified, feeling insane talking to the cat. “It’s fine. Just until the morning. I’ll drive you back and no-one will see your shame. Not even Damian. We’ll sneak. Promise.”

She carefully laid out the clothes, and shoved what she had carelessly tossed out her closet back in with equal zeal. Pecking Tim once more on the head, she moved the litter box into her bedroom and shut the door.

“I can’t have mom coming back to a half naked boy in my living room and a box of used kitty litter. You’ll have to stay in here. Hopefully, I’ll be back before she is. She said she’ll drive the whole way and not stop. So, maybe by seven in the morning? Fingers crossed.”

She opened up the windowsill, slinking her leg over. Tim hopped up on her desk, as if to follow her out.

“Uh-uh,” she warned, pressing on his wet nose firmly. “You have to wait here. Damian made me promise you’d stay inside. I can’t risk losing you.”

She caught herself speaking more desperately than she intended and shuddered. “You know what I mean. Naked boy CEO found running through the streets of Gotham is not the kind of attention the family needs right now. Be good, Tim. And thank you. You cheered me up so much today.”

One more kiss, then she was out the window, sliding it definitively shut. As she mounted the bike, Tim perched himself at the windowsill, watching her shoot off down the street.

When she was out of sight, he jumped down and paced endlessly, stressed and worried. She had been struggling so much with patrol, and he was unable to help her. Feeling utterly helpless, he jumped up onto her bed and settled on her main pillow. Curling up into a ball, he settled in to wait, praying that she would return home safely, and before Crystal arrived back.

He awoke, briefly, when he felt a soft pair of hands lifting him up. He chirped and chuffed, and it was Stephanie hushing him. She wrapped him up in his boxers and sat him next to her under the covers.

She was smiling, albeit a tired smile.

“I did it,” she whispered, scratching his ears. “Tim, I did it.”

Tim meowed a congratulatory chitter, and Stephanie smiled wider.

“Sleep now. I’ll explain more in the morning.”

In an act which utterly took Tim off guard, she pulled him closer, curling around him in a crescent moon shape. Under the covers in the dark, surrounded by her scent and soft breath, Tim began to purr once more.

 *****

 “Steph? Steph…”

Stephanie grumbled, then opened her eyes when cold fingertips pressed against her cheek. Looking at him with an expression Tim could not decipher (relief? Disappointment? Fright?) Stephanie inspected Tim up and down. He had put on his boxers and her sweatshirt but had yet to touch her trousers. Nevermind. He was kneeling on the floor next to her bed. According to her clock, it was just after six in the morning.

Right, Tim needed context.

“I suppose you are very confused right now… Being in my room in your undies… so let me explain—”

She yawned then, arms emerging from her duvet to stretch dramatically. Tim watched the muscles in her neck, then chuckled to himself.

“No, Steph. I remember.”

“Oop.” She froze, watching him anxiously, like an antelope faced with a lion. “Everything?”

“Everything.” He then snorted defiantly, “despite what Damian insisted, I was still me. Shockingly, he is not omnipotent.”

Chewing her tongue, Stephanie narrowed her eyes, not having it at all.

“Oh c’mon, you are lying out your butt.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! There’s no way you’d lower yourself to chasing my laser pen across my living room. Oh gosh, Tim, it must have been horrible…”

Tim shrugged, making a noncommittal noise.

“Maybe I wanted to catch that point of light, huh?” he teased. He then conceded, “Maybe I had a bit of trouble keeping cat me and human me straight in my head.”

“Yeah, that I believe.”

“But honestly, having a week where my biggest concern was whether I was getting tuna or chicken for my next meal was sort of refreshing.”

“I can find a way to turn you back if you like.”

“Hmm. Pass.”

Stephanie giggled, but cut off abruptly when Tim shuffled closer. She felt herself grow cross eyed as she watched him move in so intimately. Tim’s warm breath blew over her as he continued,

“Yeah well, having said that… You mentioned that I helped you. Cheered you up.”

Tim’s teasing look softened, and in that moment looked at Stephanie with such unabashed and unfiltered affection that she felt incredibly self-conscious. Tim was only in his boxers and her sweatshirt, and she was only in a baggy nightgown that she had tossed on when she had arrived home; the first time in weeks she had been uninjured enough to change her clothes.

“Maybe,” Tim continued, “I wanted to see you smile. You were so sad all this week… I needed to help you. Even if it was as dumb as chin scratches – as good as they felt – and chasing lasers. I… I heard you crying, Steph.”

Her arms came down from their stretch, and rested on his shoulders, fingers gently stroking back and forth.

“I’m okay,” she promised, like she was the one comforting him.

Tim’s eyebrows furrowed. “I could have helped you before now.”

There was no chiding in his tone, only pleading, but it made Stephanie feel guilty, nonetheless.

“I had to do it alone.”

“No, no you didn’t. You don’t have to be alone for anything.”

“You’re such a big softie.”

Tim laughed gently, “With you, sure.” Taking a deep breath, he moved even closer until he was practically leaning over her, tips of their noses touching. “Steph… I need to ask you something.”

Stephanie nodded, eyes growing damp. “Shoot,” she whispered, voice cracking and betraying the nonchalant words.

“Could we –”

Crystal opened Stephanie’s bedroom door, and the pair froze. Instinctively, Stephanie raised an arm with a shocked cry, slamming Tim in the face. He wheezed and shot up into standing, which only proved to give Crystal a good view of him in his underwear and daughter’s clothes. Looking somewhat dazed and yet unsurprised, she looked to Stephanie for whatever lie of an excuse her daughter could conjure up.

“Mommy!” Steph cried out. “I did not hear you get back. How was Florida?”

“I was being quiet since it was still early,” Crystal grumbled, unamused by Stephanie’s glib tone. “But then I heard talking.”

Crystal glared at Tim, who fidgeted, finding no dignity in any pose he maintained. Stephanie scrambled upwards so she was sitting, thankfully she had managed to put on pyjamas last night, and clambered for some excuse, any excuse.

“Tim was… It’s not… ”

Seeing her daughter fail to come up with some vaguely plausible non incriminating reasoning, Crystal turned to Tim, glaring holes through his head. He would crack in a way that Stephanie would not.

“Why are you here, Tim?” she demanded.

“I… I…” Tim began to shiver with nerves, face flushed red and eyes bright with panic.

“Where are your pants?”

Tim choked on air. “…I don’t have any. With me.”

“And no shirt either?”

Tim very much wished the ground would swallow him up.

“No.”

Stephanie groaned, throwing herself face down into her pillow. “Good job, Tim.”

“It’s the truth, Stephanie!”

Crystal’s fingers twitched on the door handle, and Stephanie could see one of her pressure headaches building, like a throbbing in her mother’s temple.

“You know what – just leave Tim. And we won’t discuss it again.”

Tim would take that and run. At least this time he wasn’t being chased out of a house with a shotgun like Ariana’s uncle had done.

“Sure. Sure. Can… Steph. Can I borrow your phone?”

“So someone can come pick you up?” Crystal snorted. “What? Don’t you have shoes either?”

Tim realised if Crystal had her way he would have been forced to run back to the manor. Death at this point really would have been preferable. Weakly, he just stated, “No, Mrs. Brown.”

Stephanie spoke at her mother and into her pillow, unable to look the embarrassing situation in the eye.

“Mom, please. The guy’s dignity has already been shot. Please don’t make him walk back to Wayne Manor in his tidey-wideys. I can give you a lift Tim, I said I would.”

“No, no,” Crystal insisted. “I’m sure you’ve done enough Stephanie.”

Stephanie shrieked, muffled but distressed. Dramatically, with exaggerated movements, she removed her phone form under her pillow and unlocked it without looking, then tossed it up the air. Tim scrambled to catch it, then dialled for the manor. Crystal stood aside, indicating it was time for Tim to leave the room. He looked back to Stephanie, still buried in her bed sheets. It was a look of desperation on his features that made Crystal feel almost guilty for separating the pair, but honestly, she did not trust her daughter, and she did not trust Tim, however soft spoken he may have been.

When Tim exited the room, Crystal shut the door with a definitive slam behind him. Turning back to Stephanie, she saw her daughter’s shoulders shaking with quiet crying. This only served to befuddle Crystal more, but before she could say or do anything else, a shallow container on the floor by her daughter’s desk caught her eye.

“Is that a litter tray?” she asked, confusion reaching fever pitch.

Stephanie raised her head to stare at her mother, eyes wet and pout overwhelmingly sad.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth.”

 *****

 “Alfred washed it. Got rid of all the cat hairs.”

Tim held up the blue sweater for Stephanie to take on her doorstep. She took it reverently and inhaled deep. Alfred always used an excess of fabric conditioner that made clothes smell lush. Tim, for his part, looked apologetic.

“I’m sorry you got drawn into all of that. I’m sorry I made you and your mom fall out.”

Stephanie said nothing, keeping Tim on the doorstep as she set down the sweatshirt. When she looked back to Tim, closing the front door behind her, she was struck by the thought that he seemed much younger than eighteen. He was scuffing his feet on the concrete, hands behind his back, like a bashful child.

“It was all because I was careless with Abra Kadabra and it bit me in the butt and Damian didn’t want to have to deal with me so he burdened you with it. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t a burden,” she replied quietly. “I liked it. The last day.”

“Oh,” Tim blushed, looking anywhere but in her eye. “Me too. For what it’s worth. Honestly, it was actually really nice. Relatively. In context. You know. In a not creepy way.”

“It must have been a bit weird. Like, don’t pretend it wasn’t. All that chicken and tuna you ate for one thing…”

Tim chuckled to himself, finding something very funny.

“Yeah my digestion has been wild the past week and... too much information. Sorry.”

Stephanie tried to catch his eye, but Tim kept his head stubbornly down. His feet must have been very interesting.

“You… you were going to ask me something, before my mom walked in,” she pushed.

He coughed, choking on nothing but his nerves.

“Was I?”

“Tim.” She reached out and took his hand. Tim flinched, then relaxed and finally gathered the courage to look her in the eye. She smiled, beautifully, always beautifully, and he squeezed her fingers.

“I’m sorry if it took me being turned into a cat to actually ask.”

“That’s okay. It happens for people like us. In a way I think it puts things into perspective. So, please ask.”

“You…” 

He stared at her, admiring her, before finding words couldn’t do the job well enough. Instead, he leaned forward, meeting Stephanie who was also moving closer, and the two kissed on Stephanie’s front doorstep. She broke away with such a delighted laugh that Tim chuckled himself.

“Ask me,” she insisted.

Tim shook his head and kissed her again. Falling back against her front door, the two made out for a moment too long before Stephanie regained her senses. She pushed him back, laughing louder and more hysterically.

“Tim! No! You need to ask!”

Another kiss, this time accompanied by him picking her up and swinging her in a circle. Finally, Stephanie gave up and held him tight. Tim made a noise that she could only describe as a chirp of delight in response.

“You’re a little gremlin,” she muttered into his mouth. “Cat or otherwise.”

[rivalry-trope-enjoyer]

Cursed Number (Kazunari)

Ship: Kazunari Miyoshi x reader

Rating: SFW (mentions of alcohol, but primarily fluff). 

WC: 2,315

A/N: This is kind of my first x reader that I’ve done in a while, trying to break writer’s block and seeing where this goes <3.

It was something about the dreaded aura that filled the air the moment you stepped into the house. It reeked of strong-scented cologne and body odor all around you. If you had liked parties in the past, stepping into this one immediately changed that. 

A man walked up to you with a red cup and masking tape pieces scattered all over his clothes, sauntering his way towards you and walking from side to side. “Hey, you there...!” he slurred his words together before scribbling on a random number on a piece of tape and handed it to you, nearly stumbling downwards as he patted the tape onto your shirt and crashed to the floor. “Now go and have some fun!” he groaned out with laughter. 

You already felt extreme discomfort and tried to find a single place on the couch, one that was not drenched in spilled drinks or tipped over dip, cacophonous music bouncing from wall to wall and instantaneously wriggling into your ear. You were afraid to move, everyone around you had seemed so zombified by the overall vibe of the place.

Just as you thought you could finally breathe, after seconds of something happening, a group of college students, some you recognized from lectures immediately started crowding over the couch, not minding your presence, and sticking a bottle flat in the middle of the space.

“Alright, anyone down for some seven minutes in heaven?! 

That cursed number. 

You thought to yourself, Why does it seem everywhere I go it ends up like this?! 

You rose to get up to avoid the game, but immediately the same drunken man that gave you a number blocked the exit, and you were forced to sit dangerously close next to a blonde boy with a sunny demeanor. He laughed as the bottle began to spin, while you cursed at him and the entire party internally. 

You watched the glass bottle spin for what felt like eternity, anxiously tapping your foot as surprise, surprise, it landed between you and the blonde boy, and you turned to look at him, but his eyes were elsewhere. 

He watched the closet door open ominously, and the blonde man was quickly shoved inside, you practically coming with. It was a dark, cramped space, and immediately terror struck.

The moment the closet doors shut and the lock clicked, you covered your mouth with your sweaty palms in order to keep it down. Panic rose to your throat, and the blonde man next to you tried to speak. 

“I know this is all really sudden, and it looks like you aren’t really having a good time right now, aren’t you?” his tone was a warm light in the middle of the darkness you were stuck in, and he immediately shined a flashlight at his shoes. 

The space between you two was little, but not uncomfortable enough to let out a blood-curdling scream. You looked at him letting out a goofy smile with a flashlight in his hand. He seemed almost radiant.

You shrugged your shoulders, lowering your hands once you saw he had no awful intent. “I came here on my own,” you sighed. 

“Mhm, and I’m guessing it didn’t turn out well?” he continued to talk, but you were stunned at the fact he made no other advances. 

You looked up at him in shock, and he took out his phone and a pair of headphones. “You gotta always take a friend with you to these kinds of things! They’re not entirely the safest, so I’m glad I caught you,” he spoke so enthusiastically, it made you forget about the entire situation as a whole. 

“Sorry...,” you spoke out awkwardly, space closing in between you guys as he took out his phone to an empty contact space.

“That’s alright! My name’s Kazunari, I’ll go by Kazu, or whatever nickname you feel like using later. If you need a friend, we can add each other on Instablam,” he laughed after, and immediately became contagious, causing you to let out a little chuckle. 

You instantaneously reached out to the phone, but hearing the laughter outside of the closet made you remember that once you two get out of there, it would rain hellfire.

Kazunari noticed the panic that rose to your face, and he swapped out of the contacts and onto YouTube. “Hey, it’s gonna be alright. I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want, but... there’s this seven minute video on a bunch of kittens getting fed if you wanna watch that. It doesn’t even have to be kittens, it can be puppies, too!”

You could not believe what you were hearing right now, but he scrolled through all of these cute animal videos that captured your heart, in a similar way this seemingly knight in shining armor has. 

“That’s nice of you,” you spoke out of your panic, and immediately, Kazunari huddled next to you for support, handing you a headphone to watch the video he gestured towards. He let you pick between videos and it ultimately led to the kitten one.

For only a couple minutes you both sat close by the phone, arms touching and subtle hints of laughter and glee coming out of both of your guys’ mouth. Your head traveled to Kazunari’s shoulder, and naturally, his available arm fell over yours.

Blush rose to your cheeks at the act, the warm feeling that you got from Kazunari’s kindness was not because of the humid closet, or the cute animals that soothed your panic, but the gentle soothing gestures he gave you, enough to close your eyes for a moment and mentally thank him for what he had done for you. 

You had just met him, and you weren’t sure if he knew your name, but immediately this situation caused by a cursed number turned into a seven minutes that you would never forget. 

Ever since then, Kazunari’s kindness has always been apparent, and after exchanging numbers after the party, you found yourselves always in each other’s company. Day after day he would stop by your dorm or call you when he was at a party, asking if you wanted to come with. Other times he would ask for homework help, even when you were equally as lost on the assignment, he found every excuse to hang out when you were available. 

“Hey, Y/n! There’s a party downtown, did you wanna come with?” he asked over the phone while you were doing your assignments. 

Overflowing with stress, you were quick to decline. “I’d love to, but I have a lot of assignments due tonight, I don’t think I can-”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on. You said that yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, you sure you aren’t just ignoring me?” he asked teasingly. 

You let out a sigh and laughed at the joke. “No, my professors just like to give a bunch of homework and I don’t think a party can help my procrastination,” you looked at the clock and watched the time tick till your assignment was due. 

Kazunari laughed through the phone. “Ohhh, thanks for reminding me! I gotta get some of my stuff done, too. Can I stop by your place to get it done?” he asked enthusiastically. 

You froze, watching your shocked expression against the reflection of your clock. “...Kazunari? Skipping a party for some assignments?” you choked out. 

“And you too, Y/n! I love hanging out with you!”

It surprised you to the core, and it made your body freeze and thoughts filling your head. You fell in love for your close friend, and it wasn’t too hard to see why. He loved parties, socializing, anything that would give him a chance to see human interaction. But when you were stuck with homework and assignments, it didn’t make sense to why he’d blow it all off for you in your head. 

Even with someone being such a social butterfly as Kazunari, he still carved time to hang out with you, a close friend that he had the same warm feeling around. 

“Hello? Y/n? Sorry, my signal’s really bad ever since Sakyo started cutting off-”

“Hi, hi yes I’m here, sorry,” you spoke and gave yourself a facepalm. 

“Haha, okay! Don’t overwork yourself before I get there! It’ll take... uhhh probably around seven minutes tops,” he laughed before hanging up. You put down your phone and thoughts overwhelmed your head while staring at a blank document on your computer screen. 

“Work now, Kazunari later,” you muttered to yourself and started typing up your next assignment due.

After only a mere seven minutes of working, you heard a knock on your door and sprung out of your seat, launching towards the doorknob and greeted Kazunari with a smile. 

“Hey, Y/n!” sunshine boy strikes again, and this time he brought a plastic bag filled with all of your favorite food and snacks and a handful of movies on the other. “I got these recommendations from my good friend, Muku. Wanna watch some with me?”

“What about your assignments? And mine?” you avoided thinking about the kind gesture, a flustered feeling spreading throughout your body, as he handed you the various items. 

“You’ve been hacking at assignments all week! Aaaaand I stopped by your favorite cafe!” Kazunari had puppy dog eyes when you opened up the food he gave you. 

Inhaling deeply at the temptation, you closed it shut. “Assignments,” you said in a strict voice. 

“But it’s a lot,” he whined and crashed onto your bed. You sighed out and put the gifts to the side, staring at the clock. 

“Well, it’s around 3 right now, and if you finish at 7, I’ll go eat food and watch movies with you,” you sat at your desk and started your homework. 

“Wait wait wait, that’s not enough,” he said, walking up behind you.

“What? That is more than enough,” you turned around, but you watched the cheeky grin appear on his mouth. 

“If you finish your assignments at 7, we both get to watch movies, eat delicious food, and on top of that, I get to kiss you!”

You nearly let out a cough at Kazunari’s suggestion, but it was not like you were gonna turn it down. He kept on smiling after you reacted so violently, but you slowly nodded your head. 

“It’s a deal,” you felt a competitive fire rush in you, and Kazunari pulled up a chair next to you and laughed.

“I’ll be working then. Y/n~” 

Hours and hours had passed, but not in complete silence. Kazunari kept talking and showing you posts and videos from Instablam, you were concerned if he was even doing his assignment at all. You mentally cursed yourself for the times you took the bait, but you were determined to get your incentive. 

However Kazunari’s presence next to you was in a way, relaxing. As you wanted to scream into your pillow he fed you some of the food and your stress melted away. When you got stuck on a problem, he searched it up for you and tried to guide you through it. And the usual, whenever you felt a rise of panic, he’d stream a little cat video for the both of you to watch.

He was the most supportive person you could have ever possibly met, but each action caused you to freeze and grow flustered, melting in his action. 

You finished at the dot, right before seven, and you looked at Kazunari with wide and tired eyes as you practically collapsed onto him.

“You did it Y/n!” he exclaimed supportively, wrapping his arms around you tight. 

“I guess I did...,” you sighed out. 

The both of you got up from your seats, his arms still snug around your waist as you comfortable buried your face in his chest. “I’m so tired...,” you whined out. 

“Oh I know,” he teased, his fingers combing through your hair comfortably. “You go and relax, I’ll start the movie,” he led you to your own bed which you immediately crashed in. 

Kazunari’s absence made you feel cold, causing you to crawl into your sheets, watching the screen turn on. Kazunari crawled into the bed with you, smiling as he laid down on his sight. 

“So~” Kazunari had his usual goofy grin. “Did you really work your butt off for the movie, or to kiss me?” he asked smoothly. 

You stared at him with your mouth open to answer, too lazy to get up in an attempt to hide your reddened face. “Well... did you come here to work on assignments or to hang out with me?”

Kazunari smiled and laid a hand on your face, his thumb caressing your cheek and letting the movie run in the background. “Well, who wouldn’t wanna hang out with such an amazing and cool person?”

You, hesitantly overlapped your hand with his on your face and returned the smile. “And who wouldn’t want to kiss such a nice, amazing guy like you?”

Kazunari laughed, a blush growing on his face. “You always know what to say, Y/n!” His face inched closer to you, and his nose gently brushed against yours. 

“And you always know how to make me feel this way, Kazu,” you managed to whisper before he leaned in and kissed your lips softly, the warm feeling inside you only grew as he kissed you for what felt like a blissful eternity.

Even when he pulled away, the gap between you both did not lessen. “Hehe, I’m so glad I flaked on the party,” he continued to joke around, and he started to kiss you even more.

He made you feel safe, even when it was just the two of you, he was always there. It was all thanks to a cursed game, with a cursed number, but you managed to make a lifetime of heaven out of it. 

[thatotherfooltheycallweaver]

Putting this out

This is the first "chapter" type thing of a fic I'm working on, hoping to get a little feedback--kind of an "outside view"

anything is appreciated

In the dim lights of early morning Queens, New York City, a teenage girl who had only gotten a maximum of three hours’ sleep had been startled awake by her alarm once again. She had already pressed ‘snooze’ twice, and would likely remain asleep if it were chosen a third time. The girl managed to pull herself from the half-awake state that tried so hard to coax her back to sleep. Untangling herself from several blankets, she stumbled out of bed; the cold already welcoming her to reality. The girl realized that she needed to hurry up if she was going to grab anything to drink before she got on the train. Deciding that she would need a bit of a personal motivator for that day, she grabbed her favorite pair of black jeans. They were a well worn pair, with a few rips from how frequently they were used. She grabbed a shirt that had been hanging from the handle of her door, a bit unsure how long it had been there, and put it on over the tank top she slept in. Her mother was waiting in the kitchen for her, lighting a stick of lavender and sandalwood incense, a staple in their household. There was music playing softly in the background, which she quickly recognized as ABBA, one of her mother’s favorite bands.

“Hey, Sierra. Good morning.” Her mother smiled. “I made you some coffee to take with you. Iced, just the way you like it.” Sierra smiled back, hugging her.

“Morning, mom.” She let go. “Are you feeling any better today?” She asked.

“Yes, I am.” Her mother pulled the hair out of Sierra’s face. “You can’t stay long...you might miss the train.”

“I had an alarm…?”

“It actually went off four times before you came out, hon. I was about to come wake you up.” Her mother grabbed something wrapped in a paper towel, handing it to her. “I hope you have a good day at school. I love you.”

“Sorry. I really appreciate this. Love you, too. Have a good day.” Sierra grabbed her bag and headed out the door. It turned out that the thing in the paper towel was a donut with strawberry jam in it. She loved strawberries, and felt a smile form on her lips. She got on the train just in time and put her earbuds in, hoping to keep the good energy going for as long as possible.

The day seemed to pass by so slowly, and the caffeine did not linger for more than a few classes. She was just beginning to crash when she got to chemistry. She had to fight the urge to fall asleep the moment she sat down. It was that class, followed by history, and she’d be able to go home. She had gotten in a tad later than usual, and chose the second to last seat available. She checked her phone and swiped away a few YouTube notifications, hoping she’d remember to watch them later on the way home. A boy she had seen around but never actually talked to had come in last, fumbling with the books in his hands and the papers stacked between. He put them down on the desk, but they fell off, scattering a bit. He scrambled, trying to grab them before they fell. Feeling sympathetic, Sierra got up and helped him. She stacked the papers she grabbed semi-neatly. He put the books he wouldn’t need in his bag, apologizing and thanking her as the last paper was grabbed and handed back to him.

“Hey, anytime.” She replied, glancing up at him. He was a bit taller than her; and from her view, the first thing she saw were his eyes: a vibrant, warm brown. She blinked, trying to cover the hesitation. He slowly sat down beside her desk, followed by her doing the same. “I’ve had days like that, too.” She reassured him, sensing his embarrassment. She leaned back in her chair somewhat, tucking the pen in her hand behind her ear. At first glance, it almost blended in with her dark hair.

“For me, it’s almost like every day.” He joked lightly with an embarrassed laugh, a faint blush forming. “Sorry.” He added under his breath.

“Don’t worry about it, really.” Trying to make him feel more comfortable, she changed the subject. “You’re in a few of my other classes, aren’t you?” She asked, to which he nodded. “History and gym, right?”

“Yeah...uh, I think so.” He looked more directly at her, scratching at his neck. “I’m Peter...Parker.”

“Sierra Collins. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” He smiled slightly. The class about to begin, Sierra grabbed the pen from behind her ear and softly tapped it against the desk a few times. Peter leaned forward on his desk slightly. “Didn’t get much sleep last night?” He asked, trying to keep the conversation up and not act awkward. She gave a confused look. “The dark circles. I just...sorry.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it. I just didn’t realize. No, I didn’t. Studying and shit.” She shrugged, noticing faint bruises that looked almost fully healed on his forearms, right where the sleeves ended. He scratched at one of them. “You okay?” She asked, a little worried for a moment.

“No, yeah, I’m fine.” He looked at her. “I’m just very clumsy.” It almost sounded as if he made it up on the spot, but it also seemed plausible.

“Ohh...gotcha. I totally get that.” Sierra noticed that the teacher was writing something on the whiteboard, trying to get ready for the class to begin--notes or something similar. She copied the things that she thought were important in rushed handwriting. She mumbled in irritation, erasing some of it.

“My aunt says it’s because I grew so fast.” He said before immediately regretting it. He mentally cursed himself for his awkwardness. He tried to focus back on his notes, hoping he didn’t completely embarrass himself; trying to pretend that she didn’t even hear him.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about that. Pretty sure they’ll patch it in the next update.” She looked away, unsure if she made the situation worse. Peter laughed quietly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Balanced mechanics would be nice, for once.” She chuckled, grateful he didn’t hate the joke. They sat in semi-comfortable silence the rest of the class, helping each other with notes when it was needed. When the bell rang, it turned out that they were both heading in the same direction to their next class, gym. At that point, likely from fatigue or exhaustion, Sierra wasn’t feeling well enough to participate in class. She headed over to the bleachers, sitting with her closest friend, Liz. They’d been friends since middle school.

“Hey, Sierra.” She said with a smile as the girl sat beside her.

“Hi. Mind if I stick around?”

“No, not at all. Betty’s coming over to sit with us. Her and Audrey.” She leaned back somewhat. “How are you? Your mom feeling better?”

“I’m okay. Mom’s much better today.” Liz smiled at her response.

“Good.” Betty and Audrey walked over, the latter opting to sit near MJ, away from the immediate group. The others had been talking for a bit, asking ‘fuck, marry, kill’.

“This again?” Sierra asked, slightly irritated. They always gave weird answers, illogical in her opinion.

“They’re bored.” Liz shrugged. Seymour, a boy with dark complexion and short hair, laughed at something before turning to Sierra.

“Collins: fuck, marry, kill. Seidr, Thor, Captain America.” He asked. She sighed.

“Fuck Thor, kill Cap, marry Seidr.” The last one was Cassandra Falk, a Norwegian woman who had disappeared in February of 2010, a couple months before the Battle of Puente Antiguo, only to reappear shortly before the Attack on New York. In between the Chitauri invasion and Sokovia, she joined the Avengers.

“Damn, you didn’t even think about it.” Betty laughed. “Dor me, it’d be fuck Seidr, marry Thor, kill Cap.”

“Seidr deserves the world.” Sierra shrugged, defending her decision.

“What about the Spider-Man?” Liz asked.

“It’s just Spider-Man.” Betty shook her head, pulling the hair out of her eyes.

“Did you guys see the bank security cam on YouTube? He fought off four guys!” She defended him.

“Oh my god, she’s crushing on Spider-Man.”

“No way…” Sierra muttered. She didn’t exactly have the highest opinion of him, despite respecting him.

“I mean…” Liz shrugged. “Sort of…? I don't know, what's with you being against him. You like him, right?” She asked Sierra.

“No, Betty's got a point. You're like my best friend but I'll never understand your obsession. He's literally so awkward and a complete dork.”

“Dorkiness can be cute." She stated with a shrug.

“How do you know he's like that? Have you met him?" Seymour teased.

“No, no, nothing like that. Just the vibe from those videos on YouTube.” Sierra explained with an uncomfortable chuckle.

"He could literally be thirty years old." Betty told Liz with a disgusted expression.

“Yeah, and what if he's, like, seriously burned?" Seymour asked.

“I don't care, I'll love him for who he is on the inside.” Liz said, pointing to her chest for emphasis.

“Yeah but have you ever actually met Spider-Man? You don't know who he is on the inside, either. You just know him from what he does. He could be a completely different person off the job.” Sierra pointed out, tilting her head slightly.

“From what I know, he's a great person who helps people.” Liz said.

“What about Echo, they're pretty badass." Seymour pointed out. Echo was a reclusive--the term used loosely, they were everywhere but were good at evading any documenting of their work--vigilante, a being that could manipulate shadows.

“I didn't think many people knew about Echo. There isn't much info on them from what I could find online.” She glanced at him, interested.

“I've only seen one video of them, but they seem a lot cooler than Spider-Man. The whole mystery thing.” He explained.

“They are kinda cool I guess.” Liz added. “I just think Spider-man is more of an icon, you know?” She said, ignoring the offended look Sierra was giving her.

“I didn't know they had videos.” She tried to ignore it. “Could you send them to me when you get a chance?”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded.

“Ooooh, someone has a crush on Echo.” Betty playfully teased.

“I don't, I just like knowing about heroes.” She shrugged. “I mean you guys mocked me for saying that Seidr was cool. And I was proven right.” Audrey slowly took out her earbuds.

“What are they talking about?” She asked MJ, tired. She looked up from her book and glanced at the group.

“Um, I think I heard something about Spider-man being thirty.” She shrugged, looking back at the book.

“Oh. Sounds kinda dumb.” She shifted slightly, as if to turn more towards her, to be polite. “That any good?”

“Yeah, that's true. Seidr is definitely a girlboss." Seymour nodded, leaning back against the seats behind him. “You can have Echo if that means I can take Spider-man.” Liz joked, looking at Sierra.

“It's very depressing...so yeah, it's great. I could lend it to you once I'm done, if you'd like.” MJ said, glancing at Audrey, who nodded. “I only have like twenty chapters left so I'll probably be finished by Friday.” She nodded, trying not to smile.

“Thanks.”

“You literally don't listen. You and Spider-Man are perfect for each other.” Sierra muttered, irritated.

“Thank you, I'm honored you think that.” Liz laughed softly, putting her hand on her heart dramatically.

“Peter knows Spider-Man!” One of the guys, Ned--if Sierra remembered the name correctly--suddenly shouted from where people were actually participating in class.

"No, n-no!" Peter quickly sat up, panicked. “No, I mean--”

“They’re friends.” He continued, oblivious to the looks everyone was giving them.

“Yeah, like Coach Wilson and Captain America are friends.” Flash, objectively a complete jackass, sneered as he jumped down from the rope he was climbing. Sierra didn’t get along with him and he frequently bullied Peter.

“I-I’ve met him.” He stuttered. “Yeah. A couple times. But it’s, um...through the Stark internship. Mm-hmm.” He turned to Ned, glaring daggers and gritting his teeth. “And I'm not really supposed to talk about it.”

“Well, that’s awesome. Hey, you know what? Maybe you should invite him to Liz’s party. Right?” Flash looked over, as if to be sure the party was still going on.

“He said he just met him once, leave him alone.”

“Actually, I might not be able to make it to the party. I have a date with Black Widow.” He looked at Sierra with a glare.

“Yeah, I’m having people over tonight.” Liz confirmed, trying to keep them from talking over each other and arguing. “You’re more than welcome to come.”

“Having a party?” Peter asked, still try

“Yeah, it’s gonna be dope. You should totally invite your personal friend Spider-Man.”

“Flash, you absolute dumbass, Widow's already got a boyfriend who she's happy with. She wouldn't waste her time.”

“Correction, no one would waste their time with you.” Betty added.

“I don’t care.” He threw his hands up in defeat. “Sorry, I forgot I was talking to the super-nerd.”

“You'd think in a world of gods and heroes that could've been straight out of the movies, you'd pay more attention to the world around you. But no, you're still the same shitty self-centered asshole as usual.” Sierra snapped.

“Collins!” Coach Wilson interrupted, trying to calm the situation down. “Alright! We can stop that there! Can everyone go back to what they were doing? Thank you.” Sierra stepped back.

“Why are you booing me? I'm right.” She mumbled, looking at Peter with an apologetic expression before going back over to the others. She didn't usually start shit with a crowd around, but she was just so fed up with Flash's bullshit at that moment specifically.

“Okay, Sierra, go off.” Liz smiled at her, proud of her otherwise introverted friend speaking her mind for once.

“That's a once in a lifetime thing. Promise.” She backtracked, all of a sudden getting shy, as realizing what happened.

“No, that was the best thing ever. I can’t speak for anyone else, but you kinda said what I was thinking.” She smiled. Everyone had left to go get changed back into normal clothes. Sierra got done a few minutes before the bell had rung. She waited for her friend, in the hall

“Think there's room for me at that party?”

“Of course, you're always invited.” Liz smiled again, standing up as well. She smiled back, walking with her but hesitating for a moment, looking at Peter, who was heading into the corridor. “Give me a sec.” She said to Liz.

“Don’t take too long.” She replied before following the group out. Sierra walked over to him. He looked up.

“Hey…” He pulled at his sleeve, a bit timid.

“You doing okay? I know that was probably uncomfortable and I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh, yeah, I'm fine. That was pretty standard.” He said quietly and nodded with hesitancy. “I...thank you--for telling him off. I know it probably wasn't for me, but still.” She looked up, as if caught off-guard. She realized that he was right, and it didn’t sit right with her.

“No, you're right. I kinda made it about myself when I was supposed to be defending you. I'm sorry.”

“No, no, you definitely shouldn't be apologizing for that. I would really like the least amount of things to be about me as possible.” He said with an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Thanks again for defending me, though. No one's ever done that for me before.”

“Anytime, really.” She smiled softly, glancing back. “Hey, I gotta go. But I’ll see you at Liz’s party?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” He smiled slightly.

[logan-is-noggin]

Analogical Angel part 5

summary: roman runs into Logan in the hospital

tw: violence

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🌩️🧠 .⋅} ────── ⊰

Logan walked quickly through the automatic doors of the hospital, he had left his car with the valet, something he normally wouldn't do if he had not been so worried about his friend. Logan was about to ask the front desk when he see Parker waving him down from the waiting area. a still weeping Patton sat curled up at his boyfriends side. the two stood when Logan joined them. Patton immediately hugged Logan tightly. Logan simply comforted him, rubbing his back in circles. the two knew about pattons tendency to get emotional.

" has there been any word on him? has anyone said what happened?" Logan rambled a bit.

" a nurse came by fifteen minutes ago to say he was going into surgery. she didn't say what for." Parker also quietly filled Logan in on how he found Virgil unconscious in his bathroom. " i saw lines on his arms, man. like he was..." he didn't feel the need to finish the sentence, Logan agreed. Logan nodded " why would he do something like that to himself, i should have noticed something was wrong, i-" Parker quickly stopped him " you cant go blaming yourself. none of us could have known, really, i mean the two of us just met him today, and you what? last week?"

Logan was about to defend his statement when someone else came through the doors and approached the desk about to ask for Virgil

but when roman turned to the waiting room, he spotted the group standing in their corner " what are you lot doing here? did you sprain your finger playing chess?" he teased. Logan rolled his eyes before addressing roman " no, we're waiting to make sure Virgil's going to be alright."

hearing Logan talk about Virgil made roman mad. " what do you nerds have to do with him?"

" well for starters, Parker is the one who found him and called the ambulance. and second, we're his friends and care about him. if you did the same you would have been hear earlier. or better, if you cared about Virgil at all he probably wouldn't be in this situation cause he wouldn't have to hurt himself to make up for you not being there for him!" Logan was going to continue, his anger and worry pushing him forward, but instead he felt a fist connecting with his face, the nose pads of his glasses pushing uncomfortably on the bridge of his nose as he heard them snap. the force behind the hit also had him stumbling back, he would probably have gone down if Parker hadn't caught him.

as Logan focused he had just enough time to block romans next swing with his forearm before the hospitals security tackled him down and pulled him away.

once roman was out of sight, a receptionist hurried over to check on Logan. his glasses had broken, his right eye and side of his nose were already swelling and would certainly bruise tomorrow. "oh goodness, are you alright? ill get you an ice pack for that, just hang tight, dear." Logan nodded and Parker thanked her as she shuffled away.

Logan slumped back into the yellow chair, Patton took the glasses from Logan " that roman better hope he doesn't meet me alone in an alley.." he frowned " patt, honey, you cant fight, i dont want you getting hurt too."

" also, there wouldn't be a reason for either of you to be in an alleyway" Logan groaned from pressing the blue ice bag against his face.

" its an expression, Logan" Patton sighed annoyed " just saying he cant hurt my friends and get away with it," Patton huffed, crossing his arms.

Parker pulled out his phone and opened YouTube, opening a playlist titled 'Patton'

" hey Patton, there's a new animal compilation, come sit." they all sat in the row of chairs. Patton wore earbuds while leaning against his boyfriend as he watched the cute animals to help calm him Logan smiled " you handle him so well."

Parker looked down a moment " years of practice."

" you've been dating for ten months" Logan corrected and they both started laughing. at this point, logans ability to take everything literally had become comical.

" I'm just saying, it's going to work out, you and Virgil. you care about him so much you literally took a hit for the guy."

"I would have done the same for you." Logan switched his ice pack to his left hand since his right was getting too cold.

a nurse walked up them and asked " are you here for Virgil Hale?" Logan stood instantly, the other two following shortly

" Is he alright?" Logan asked the nurse smiled softly

" he's going to be fine, he's out of surgery and starting to wake up. if you like you can come see him now" the trio followed the nurse down the halls to his room, Patton held onto logans arm to guide him as he was very blind without his glasses.

when they made it to his room, Patton and Parker both went in, Logan, however, stayed behind to ask the nurse a question

Read part 6

[joy1579]

the RFA reacting to MC listening to creepy pasta

I’ll admit its been a while since i listened to any new creepypasta so these are pretty old ones but i figured since they arent mine and i dont really name them in most cases i should like them  jumin - russian sleep experiment yoosung - rapid blink (a my little pony grim dark fanfiction) saeyoung - the man who ate newborns zen -  mr. widemouth  and  dear abbey jaehee - to be honest i cant remember this ones title it was really good and i cant find it anymore so if anyone knows it send it my way cuz i only heard it once at a live reading at sanjapan I’d love to hear it again though

Jumin 

·        You were listening while knitting in his home office

·        He was working at his desk and paying no attention to the voice playing from your phone

·        Absently he comments that the piano background music was pleasant

·        You smile because of course that’s the part he notices.

·        As the story goes on you two sit in amicable silence listening to the story

·        Then a sickening crunch rings through the air and you see Jumin grimace out of the corner of your eye

·        “darling? Was that your story?”

·        “huh? Oh yes it was.”

·        “that sounded sickening” and indeed he was a little pale though you may have missed it if you didn’t know him so well

·        You tried to stifle your laugh “yeah I think it was supposed to be the character’s arm being crushed.”

·        “what?”

·        “you weren’t listening to the story were you?”

·        “I listened to the music”

·        “here you should listen to this next one it’s my favorite.” You said moving to sit in his lap as you began the next video

·        “its about this scientific experiment, where they locked people up and didn’t let them sleep. Eventually they end up going crazy. They mutilate and cannibalize themselves, super creepy.” You explained excitedly

·        He looked at you concerned for a moment before speaking

·        “is this what you were discussing with my new assistant yesterday before we went to lunch”

·        “yes! Actually she’s even more into it than I am she gave me some good suggestions.”

  Yoosung

·        “Puppy? I’m gonna run to the convenience store real quick okay?”

·        He leaned back in his computer chair to look at you upside down as you stood behind him

·        “okay MC! oh if they have honey”

·        “I know yoosungie I’ll grab you some if they have them!” you said leaning over him to kiss his nose “love you. I’ll be back soon.”

·        You grabbed your purse and headed out the door

·        A few minutes after you had left Yoosung noticed you had left you phone

·        Picking it up he noticed the quiet words that came from the headphones

·        Curious he put on the headphones and began to listen

·        It was a fanfiction. He recognized the characters from a show you watched every Saturday.

·        A cute reboot of a cartoon from your childhood hi figured the story would follow the same plotlines of friendship and togetherness

·        But as he listened it took a darker turn

·        The main character was trapped, stuck with no resources aside from the occasional clone of herself that spawned into whatever hellscape she was trapped in

·        Yoosung was horrified listening to the story describe how the broken and desperate character would slaughter her clone to build necessities in a hopeless search for escape.

·        By the time you got back he was in tears hugging your plush version of the character

·        You rushed to comfort him and saw what he had listened to

·        “oh puppy I’m so sorry I didn’t think you’d listen to my grimdark fiction!

·        “why do YOU listen to it?!? I thought you liked that show because it was cute!”

·        “I do! It’s so cute. But I like the horror stories to. The contrast is, it’s fun.” You explained gently combing your fingers through his hair

·        “it actually makes me think of you puppy” you say absently as you feel him starting to calm down

·        “what?!?!?!” he cried shooting up from your arms in an instant

·        “well your so cute and I love that your cute, but you can also be tough like when you went to the hacker’s headquarters for me. Your cute and manly, like that show is cute and can be scary. Your everything I love.” You explained

 Saeyoung 

-        He knew you liked creepy pasta he had seen your YouTube history

-        What he didn’t know was that you had it downloaded on your phone to listen to as you fell asleep

-        So when the silence of Rikas apartment is broken by the squeal of car breaks and shattering glass he was justifiably terrified

-        He was busting through the bedroom door to check on you

-        But all he saw was you halfway off the bed mid lunge for your phone

-        he watched you finish your tumble to the floor fumbling with your phone to stop the story that was playing

-        You looked embarrassed and a little sleep addled

-        “Sorry I thought I took that one out of my playlist”

-        He stood stock still for a moment

-        “I didn’t mean to scare you sorry! It should have been deleted its way to loud I think I did something wrong when I downloaded it.”

-        “what? MC was that your phone?” he asked confused

-        “yeah its um it’s the, the story where the guy tries to kidnap the new born but gets in a car crash, hence you know the um screech crash clang. Sorry”

-        His back hit the wall and he slid to the floor wearily

-        “MC you’re going to be the death of me”

-        “um I, I got it off my playlist this time.” You offer “I think.” You add under your breath

-        He held out his hand to you and you sheepishly placed you phone in his hands quickly he tapped away before handing your phone back to you

-        “thanks” you say softly crawling to sit beside him on the floor

-        “so living with a bomb, and being hunted by a hacker isn’t spooky enough for you? You’ve gotta listen to scary stories too?” he asked tiredly

-        “well the bomb and the hacker, they aren’t scary if you’re here. I mean even if the worst happens I think it would be okay cuz I got to meet you”

-        He groaned and let his head fall to his knees

-        “you really are going to kill me aren’t you” he said as you saw his ears turn pink

 Zen

-        Zen thought You were adorable literally just the cutest thing possible

-        That’s why he was shocked when one of his cast member who was a big horror fan mentioned a scary internet story and you immediately jumped into the conversation

-        “mr. creepypasta? Or creepypasta jr. ?” you asked

-        “Oh mr. creepypasta! I didn’t think you’d listen to creepypasta which ones your favorite?” the cast member asked

-        “nothing beats “MR.Widemouth” for me gotta love a monster that tries to make you do his dirty work for him”

-        “oh definitely but I like “dear Abby” myself that one is chilling

-        You spent the rest of the shoot chatting with him quietly at the far side of the studio so you two didn’t disturb the shooting

-        Zen had to admit it was getting to him

-        You were HIS girlfriend why didn’t he know about this interest of yours.

-        And why were you so happily chatting with another guy about it

-        He confronts you on the way home

-        “I knew you weren’t into it Zenny it’s not a big deal”

-        “you talked to him all day MC. you know I’d listen to you right? Even if it’s not my thing why didn’t you tell me?”

-        “here how about we do a spa night tonight and I’ll show you my favorite so you don’t feel left out next time”

-        He chuckled and kissed your temple

-        “well I can’t turn down my princess can I”

-        So that night you ran a bath for the both of you

-        You leaned against his chest and each did a facemask as you queued up the playlist on your phone

-        You could feel him tense at every sound effect and could hear him grimace at the stories more gruesome details

-        You chuckled a bit before saying “zenny you don’t have to listen to them you know”

-        “just, why are they all so dark?”

-        “because that’s the point their supposed to be spooky”

-        He tried he really did. He listened until you two where drying off after the relaxing soak

-        He sighed dejectedly “you were right jagi it really isn’t my thing” he said as he toweled your hair dry

-        “but you tried and that means so much to me babe” you said leaning up to steal a kiss from him

 Jaehee

-        She knew about them but she wasn’t a fan of horror

-        So she had never paid any attention to those videos as she browsed the internet

-        And she certainly didn’t expect to walk into the café one morning before opening to you pulling a cake out of the oven and listening to a deep voice graphically describing a head wound

-        “MC what on earth are you listening to?”

-        “it’s a creepypasta!” you chirped brightly

-        “those scary stories from youtube” she questioned further as she made her way around the counter

-        “yeah in this one this guys tries to cure his depression but cutting out a chunk of his own brain”

-        “that’s awfull” she exclaimed

-        “well yeah. It doesn’t end to well for him either”

-        “of course not!” She said shaking her head as she tied her apron on to help you prepare to open the café.

-        The day went on fairly normally but as you closed she turned to you

-        “that story, it’s not true.”

-        You looked at her a little confused before nodding “of course not”

-        “no one could survive that” she muttered to herself

-        “no one” you agreed growing more puzzled by the second

-        “how could people even come up with something so awful” she asked you setting a broom to the side

-        “I don’t know? Jaehee are you okay?” you ask looking her in the eyes

-        “I, yes MC I’m fine. The details in that story simply shook me up I suppose”

-        You were careful from then on about listening to your stories only with headphones

-        Jaehee wasn’t weak by any stretch of the imagination, but if something made her uncomfortable than you weren’t going to push it.

-        You loved her after all

[anika-ann]

The Line between Respectful and Stupid - Pt.5

Keep Calm and Stay Professional

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader       Word count: 2180

Warnings:  swearing, Steve being a dumbass

Summary: Meeting reality can be a bit harsh, Steve turns out to be as much of an ass as everyone was saying and Natasha Romanoff might deserve a life promotion.

Story Masterlist

The way back to SHIELD headquarters was silent as was the taking off. Three agents identified themselves, arriving in three different cars; you two rode in the middle one when coming to the closest private airport. During the flight, no one uttered a word – it was like Steve had no idea what to say now and you had no idea what you were allowed to say. So silence it was; and it was far from the comfortable one you were in after he had found you sleeping by his bedside.

You arrived back at Triskelion; you parted ways with a quiet nod, because hand-shake might be painful for you.  

On medical, the doctor on duty was praising the lovely stitches you had, looking honestly shocked when you told her they were Steve’s – Captain America’s. You called him his rank, because you knew where your place was and since you were back to reality, Steve seemed to realize it too. ‘Common sense’ met ‘SHIELD training of agents (over)respecting their superiors’ and this was the result.

Life went on. You returned to paper-pushing, because you had been hurt on the mission and you definitely couldn’t go back to the field since you weren’t even able to fire your gun correctly or do extensive exercise. Life went on and it was… boring and grey. The only highlight was Harry smacking your uninjured arm with a worried-slash-playful hiss of ‘I told you NOT to get shot.’ His concern was heart-warming.

It had been a week. With a little help of lady fortune, you had met Steve Rogers – correction, Captain America, Sir – three times.

The first time, he was with an agent you didn’t recognize. Yet, you couldn’t help but smile when seeing him. Your “Morning, Captain Rogers. Morning, Agent,” (because your ma’ raised you right) was almost enthusiastic, yet kept professional. The agent responded with the same greeting. Steve… gave an inconspicuous nod. You could feel your stomach drop, but tried not to read too much into it.

The second time though, he was alone. You greeted him the same way, except it was the afternoon. And Captain Rogers responded with a silent stiff nod only. Again.

The third time you saw him in your way, you honestly wanted to take another route to your office space just to avoid him. But you could tell that his companion spotted you even when they were talking business or whatever; it would look bad if you suddenly spun on your heels in the middle of the corridor and disappeared. So, you decided to be a big girl who wasn’t hurt by Captain’s indifference towards her and continued walking with a lump growing in your throat.

Your heart was practically jumping ahead of the rest of your body – that was how fast it was beating. You hoped it didn’t show.

“Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff,” you said, way quieter than was polite. Neither of them seemed to mind.

Captain Rogers gave you his typical nod of acknowledgement, making you want to scream.

Asshat! So full of himself! Arrogant dumbass!

And you had been a dumbass too of course, for not realizing right away that he had been ‘friendly’ simply because of something called ‘professional courtesy’ and ‘inconvenient circumstances’. Translated to everyday speech – because he had had to and you had been the only person in the twenty-mile radius. Now, he was the legend who wasn’t mingling with ordinary agents and apparently didn’t have the decency to return a hello.  

‘My ma’ raised me right’ my ass, Rogers.’

The shocking part came when Agent Romanoff reciprocated your greeting with a smile that looked too suspicious on her lips.

“Agent 19.”

So… she knew who you were.

That’s not concerning at all.

The moment you passed the golden pair – and of course, why would Captain America even spare one glance at you aka no-name-chic from nowheresville when he was used to the company of the Black Widow aka the gorgeous badass Natasha Romanoff –, you released a shaky breath, not bothering to hide your shocked expression at the woman addressing you.

Later, you would come to conclusion they had been going through the failed mission you and Captain had been to and their briefing had been very thorough. After that, you didn’t give it a second thought.

What you didn’t know was what followed the short interaction between the three of you. You never saw the pair of legendary agents circle the corner, you never heard and saw the gorgeous badass Natasha Romanoff smack Steve’s arm with a surprising force for such a thin woman.

“You’re a dumbass, Rogers, you know that? She’s kinda cute.”

“Don’t I know it…” he mumbled, stroking his bicep, seemingly hurt.

“Which part?” she hissed, wondering if she should just ask you out for him. It would be almost like a mission, you two meeting an asset… an ass-et in this particular case, because she couldn’t believe this blond idiot.

Really? Ignoring you despite liking you, because you could potentially work together on an assignment again somewhere far in an unforeseeable future and he didn’t want you two to potentially be compromised?

Geez, Rogers.

Steve sighed. “Both, Romanoff. Both.”

Good, she thought. At least he was admitting to being stupid. Maybe he wasn’t a completely lost cause after all. Maybe he just needed few more pushes.

“SHIELD’s rules are stupid.“

You looked up from the report you were re-reading after your friend, blinking at the man towering above you. He stood there in front of your desk like a righteous angel of exasperation, jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket as if he was your average fellow citizen.

The man who was occupying unfair amount of space in your head and hadn’t spoken to you since leaving the cabin-slash-safe-house.

“St- Captain,” you corrected yourself as you imagined there were people listening to you and as you reminded yourself that this indeed was Captain Rogers talking with a low-life agent, which he clearly was fully aware of now. “What-“

“And by SHIELD’s rules being stupid I mean me. So I guess you can add ‘dumbass’ to that list of yours.”

Your knee-jerk reaction – after you realized what he was talking about – was to oppose that it was not your list by any means. But you wisely kept your mouth shut and took a quick survey of who was watching this surreal exchange instead.

You saw Wendy sitting in the opposite boot watching Steve’s bottom (no blame here, sister), Jack in the corner with his eyebrow raised, Kate who was clearly not concerned by her technically-superior hearing the music blasting from her headphones as she was listening to YouTube videos and swaying in the rhythm, and of course Harry, the retiring know-it-all-saw-it-all (the nice kind with funny stories from the field), was sitting at his desk, arms crossed on his chest, an amused grin on his face.    

You escaped his gaze, looking back at Steve wide-eyed.

“I’m— sorry, Sir? I don’t think I understand.”

“The rule is that SHIELD operatives shouldn’t be involved with each other. And while it might be true that it could compromise them in the field, that rule is just ridiculous, because we’re not even on the same team and the chances that we will need to work together again are slightly above zero.”

You stared at him speechless. What was he saying again? Your brain was very slow in processing his words. He clenched his jaw when you gave him no actual reaction and he scratched the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable. He lowered his voice when he spoke again.

“Sorry. That’s not at all how I wanted this to go.” He squatted then, so you were on the same eye-level since you were still sitting in the chair, too dumbstruck to do anything else than stare and occasionally stutter a word or two. Steve gulped as if he was the one nervous. Honestly, you weren’t sure what you were then. “I’m sorry. Would you like to have dinner with me? Or coffee? Or anything really?”

That did it. Your jaw fell on your desk, the words feeling like a bucket of cold water splashing in your face. The mixture of awe, warm feeling in your chest and dizziness took over you; in the end, disbelief won though. Because honestly, no matter how adorable Steve Rogers was now, crouching by your desk, watching you with his deep cerulean eyes, you couldn’t believe his nerves.

That was how he thought he could play it? Ignore you for a week, barely nodding at you in a greeting when meeting you in the corridors, and then just walk in like the king of the world, all the womankind falling to his feet?

No thank you, I have some self-respect left.

Though… for him, you might forget it.

No, nope.

But-

The inner fight between the urge to kiss him senseless for showing up with such proposition and to kick him in his balls, because no, mister, this is not the way the world works, not even for you, was raging in you, resulting in a stutter.

“I-uhm… you… you didn’t even say hi for a week, what— what changed?”

That was good, right? You deserved an explanation at least? That was perfectly reasonable, unlike someone else’s behaviour?

He gulped, his expression shifting from a puppy look to a kicked puppy look.

Damn, my heart. The world was so unfair, allowing some people to soften others’ anger just by being cute…

“I know. And I’m sorry. I thought that we shouldn’t talk together, because we weren’t allowed to… get involved and I needed time process all that. That’s part of the reason why I’m stupid. Dumb, I mean. Dumbass.”

You couldn’t help it. The corners of your lips twitched. How could one be mad at Steve Rogers, who was willingly calling himself a dumbass and being so sweet? You were such a weak creature, dammit.

“Yes,” you whispered shyly, the need to bite your lip as your nerves worked physically hurting you.

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he frowned a little; you only realized then that he couldn’t possibly have an idea if you were just approving of him eating humble pie or saying yes to his… date proposition? You would have thought it was just a friendly offer, but he had been the one to call it ‘get involved’, okay?

Twice.

Also, it was to a bit of both, the yes you were saying. Not that you had the heart to admit it, yet.

“I mean— yes, I’d like that.”

His lips spread in a beautiful grin that sent your heart racing, especially in the combination with his happily twinkling blue eyes.

“Swell!” he exclaimed, almost making you choke. Who the hell was still using that word? No, don’t answer that. “I’ll bring flowers.”

You chuckled at that, incredulous, remembering he had said he should have bought them to you before seeing too much skin of yours. The euphoria of what was happening had nearly the same effect on you as the pain-meds a week ago. It made you brutally honest and babbling.  

“Planning on getting so far on the first date, Steve?”

The tips of his ears turned red as he realized what conclusion you must have come to. His eyes widened in horror. Oh boy, you were about to have so much fun with getting him flustered, that was for sure.

“I didn’t mean it like-“

And because you were honest, babbling, but also bold, you leaned to him over the desk before you could change your mind and pressed your lips to his cheek for a split second.

“I’m teasing, Captain. I have no doubt you’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

Utterly awed at your gesture, he smiled at you brightly. “I’ll try. Dinner on Saturday sounds good?”

“Sounds great actually. And good,” you winked at him as he rose to his feet and you handed him your card out of habit, doubting he needed it – after all, he could just find you here if he hadn’t somehow found your phone number already. “If you try hard enough, I might add ‘gentleman’ to the list.”

He left you to your desk duties with a laugh. You caught a glimpse of Harry showing you a thumps-up as your gaze followed Steve’s figure out of the door and you blushed.

The moment you couldn’t see Steve anymore, you hid your face in your palms, giggling like a schoolgirl. You didn’t care what your co-workers would think – and yes, you noticed that Kate had turned off the music in favour to listen your conversation. It didn’t matter.

You were having a date on Saturday. With the world’s first superhero dumbass hard kind-ass smartass tight-ass tight ass.

And boy, were you excited. You needed to scratch the tight-ass from the list, because man, Steve Rogers didn’t mind breaking the rules and crossing the lines when they were stupid.

To be honest, you didn’t mind either. Not at all. After all, it would be with the blessing of your superior. And that had to mean something, right?

Steve Rogers Masterlist

I couldn’t help but hint Natasha’s involvement, because ‘matchmaker Widow’ for the win and Steve-Natasha friendship goals.

I hope you had as much fun reading this as I had writing it. Thank you for reblogs and likes and, of course, for reading in the first place. Kudos to you all. :-*

Tags:  @mermaidxatxheart​

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER 36: Weezer - Part 1

From his porch on Mulholland Drive, All-Kill sits, looking out across Los Angeles. The view is beautiful at night, but on this particular morning, it looks muggy and uncomfortable. “Yeon-in,” he calls. 

At his summons, the wolf appears with a bottle of Korean soju held in its jaws. With surprising dexterity, it places the bottle on a small table next to its master. All-Kill pets his companion between the ears, then unscrews the cap, pouring the rice wine into a small glass and sipping from it.

“Little early for that, isn’t it?” T’onga says, stepping out of the house and standing behind the chair.

“I’m in a celebratory mood… Have you taken care of everything? The stragglers and loose ends?” the boss replies, keeping his eyes on the view.

“Yeah. Of course,” she says numbly.

“Good. Then the time to strike is now. Go to where Dust is and use HOUSE OF PAIN to eliminate him. No matter what you say or what it takes, do that above all else. It makes no difference what kind of ability Dust has. Once you get him into the room, he’s no match for you. I have every confidence. As far as I’m concerned, we’ve already won.” He punctuates his statement with another sip of soju and a smile.

“Right… Where’s Sang-ok?” T’onga asks.

“At his apartment. I’ll call him over when you’re done.”

“…And Sumni?” 

At the mention of this name, there is a long pause between the two, as All-Kill places his glass down. “…She’s on standby, as usual. Why? What difference does it make?”

“Oh… it doesn’t. I was just wondering where everybody was. See you later, boss…” she turns a leaves, stepping back inside the house. All-Kill turns his head and keeps his eye on her until she leaves his sight. The wolf at his feet whines softly.

“Anaheim…” he mutters, and nothing more.

                                                         ---

The Anaheim Convention Center and Arena! One of the largest gathering spots in all of Southern California, a stone’s throw away from the famous Disneyland, home to every sort of convention for every sort of event, from company-wide get-togethers, to the biggest sporting event, down to the most niche of fan conventions. And this time of year, it's home to the one and only...

TubeCon, the world’s convention for the no. 1 video-sharing network, VidTube! Here, everyone from video bloggers, pranksters, game streamers and the ever underappreciated animators gather to engage with their fans and celebrate their work. 

They mill about like termites, some old, but most young, moving between stall after stall, buying merch, taking selfies. Among them are content creators, many of whom film themselves on their phones. Their voices can be heard clearly over the general din.

“EY ITS UR BOY MERCINATOR MEETING UP WITH SOME FANS!!!”

“EY WHAT UP GUYS IT'S YO BOY RATMATT HERE AT TUBECON!!!”

“WE'RE THE SLY BROTHERS AND WE'RE HERE AT TUBECON TO GET PEOPLE'S REACTIONS TO MEETING US!!!”

At the far end of the auditorium, three men in their thirties play video games on a couch under the scrutiny of over a hundred people. 

“Julio,” one demands of his bearded companion, “would you rather eat a man or acquire a nice tan?”

“I don’t… What kind of question is that, Neil?” Julio splutters.

“Julio, answer the question!” demands the third.

“What is this place...?” Kilo mutters, taking in the atmosphere with distaste, having found himself and his friends beckoned here.

“This is probably what Hell looks like,” Moya remarks, with a thousand-yard stare. In the midst of this controlled chaos, she and Kilo stand protectively between Shizuka, who stares doe-eyed into the crowd, searching for something. For someone. Frowning, she reaches into her inside pocket and pulls out the message for the hundredth time. 

I WILL MEET YOU AT ANAHEIM and a drawing of an impossible triangle, written in permanent marker, and three tickets to this very convention. Nothing else was in the envelope delivered to Jerome’s mansion. Shizuka turns the message around, but all she sees on the back is the marker ink bleeding through the paper.

“Whoever it was that sent that letter…” Kilo grumbles, peering over her shoulder at it, “ least they could’ve done is be a little more specific. So what now, cop?” he turns to Moya, “We just supposed to stand around here, waitin’ for somebody to walk up on us?”

“This is our best move,” Moya replies, squinting suspiciously into the crowd, “For now, we have to assume the worst and that this is a Congregation trap. They’ve been one step ahead of us this whole time, and even now they still have the advantage. But waiting around in C-King’s house won’t get us any closer to stopping them, so we may as well take the chance and handle what comes of it. And besides… if T’onga really did send that message, then I don’t know when we’ll get another chance to get this close to her. No matter what happens, we can’t get separated. As long as we stick together, I’m confident we can take anything that comes our way!”

“Hrrmh… I hope you’re right…” Kilo says. Shizuka says nothing during this exchange, but looks up from the letter, glaring resolutely. 

“HEY, YOU GUYS!!” shouts a loud, raucous cry, directed at the three of them. Immediately, SATURN BARZ and WITCH MOUNTAIN come out, only to recede soon after. A man in his late 20s wearing mirror-shades suddenly stands right in front of Shizuka.

With painfully artificial exuberance, the man in sunglasses shouts, “You’re next in line, huh, bros?! Great!! Don’t be shy, I always have time for fans! Here, lemme get that for you!” He says, taking the paper from Shizuka’s hand.

“Ah…! Hey, wait…!!” she starts, but the guy soons hands it back to her, but not before scrawling chicken scratch on the back in red ink.

“Who the fuck is this…?” Kilo mutters. He then glances behind him and notices for the first time a line has formed behind them, composed of teenage girls and boys, the eldest surely no older than 14. Without moving from their spot, the trio appear to have become part of an autograph line.

“Now you got your autograph, how about a selfie?!” the shaded vlogger announces to Shizuka, already pulling out a smartphone and attaching it to a telescopic pole. “It’ll be legit, for real! You’re bound to get a ton of likes on your feed once people see me on it!”

“Ah… N-no, thanks,” Shizuka responds, taken aback, “I’m kind… of waiting for-” 

“Come on, honey, no need to be shy!” he announces again, sidling up beside her with his selfie stick raised over them, “You’re talking a major boost in online cred if you get seen with me! I’m kind of a big deal on YouTube, in case you didn’t know!” Bearing over her, he reaches a hand across her shoulders, “And hey, if we hang out a little more, maybe I can give you a few tips on how to get your own channel started! I could send a few early subscribers your way, if you do me a couple favors. What do you sGGLKH!!” 

He chokes, his tongue lolling out as Moya lifts him, one-handed, by the back of his t-shirt collar. Kilo, meanwhile, grabs the selfie stick out of his hand, breaks it in half over his knee, then pitches the phone to the other side of the auditorium. The teenagers in the line behind them gasp. Moya drops him, and they and Shizuka moves away from him, stepping around him like garbage.

“H-Hey! Wait up!!” The vlogger shouts, rubbing his neck and beginning to pursue them, “Hey! You guys! Who do you fuckin’ think you are?! Hey, I said--!!” Kilo and Moya turn at once, fixing him with furious expressions. “Yeah, what?”, they say at the same time.

The vlogger appears to forget how to speak for a moment. Then he scurries off to retrieve his phone, shouting back, “My followers are gonna hear about this, you hear me?!”

Shizuka hardly notices his departure, merely brushing lint off her shoulder. Kilo and Moya exchange a concerned glance. 

                                                         ---

The vlogger weaves his way through the crowd, eventually finding his phone lying on the ground with a cracked screen. Upon sight, he rushes to retrieve it, but crashes into a tall man in a hoodie from behind. “Hey! Watch where you’re going, jackass!” he berates before stooping to pick up his phone. The guy in the hoodie slouches, removing his earbuds from his ears and scratching his oversized afro. 

Before the vlogger stands back up, he starts wheezing. He manages to release a few choked coughs, which go unnoticed by anyone, before his neck and face begin to swell up like a balloon and his face turns a shade of pale blue. 

“Anaphylactic shock, huh? Nasty...” says Toto, and nothing more. By the time he finishes his remark, the vlogger is already dead and he has lost all interest in him. He peers over the crowd. His eyes fall upon the trio, then he slides himself into the back corridors.

Without a care in the world, he strides through the service hallways, eventually coming to the security control center. He opens the door with a stolen clearance card and enters the room, shutting the door behind him. Two dead security guards are propped up against the wall, their faces blotchy and swollen. Toto sits down at the surveillance desk and finds the trio on one of the monitors.

“They’re clinging to each other like…” he mutters to himself, keeping them in sight at all times. “Like… Like, uh… Liiiike… Oh! Like tar and feathers! … No, no, not like that, not like tar and feathers, more like…” he stops abruptly and furrows his brow deeply, searching for the correct analogy. “Flies on hot shit? No, no… Oh, yeah! Like atomic particles! Two little electrons orbiting around a neutron/proton center! That’s perfect!” He smiles, delighted. Then his smile drops.

“Wait, hold on, if the three of them are an atom, then wouldn’t splitting them up be totally bad?” he mutters, beads of sweat suddenly appearing on his forehead, “When you split an atom up, you get nuclear fusion, in other words a big fuckass huge explosion…! Applyin’ that here… Dust wanted me to separate the Joestar princess from her friends, but what if that’s a bad idea…?! What if the best bet is to take ‘em all here and now, together…?! No no no, fighting ‘em all at once is no good either, their abilities are too strong…! 

“Aaagh, did I do enough, did I miss anything?! I been here for an hour and I made sure to touch as many people as I could, but what if it ain’t enough?! What if all the people I came into contact left already?! Uuuurghh…!!” he frets manically over this, pinching his temples as his thoughts race. Then at last he freezes, and his relaxed posture returns. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he admonishes himself, “It’s just an expression, they ain’t really atoms. They just people. Caught in the flow of fate, just like everybody. Does no good to worry over how things’ll turn out. Split ‘em up, cram ‘em together… It’s all the same at the End of Time…” Fully calmed down, he reaches for the microphone and leans into it. 

Affecting an officious, professional tone, he speaks into the PA, “Attention, all convention-goers, attention all convention-goers. The Paulie Paul panel event will be commencing in ten minutes. Please proceed to the cordoned area in Hall D in an orderly fashion. Thank you.” Finished, he watches with satisfaction at the silent stampede that begins, which slams into the trio, tearing them apart. 

He reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a pre-rolled spliff. He regards it for a moment, taking in the herbal scent, before shaking his head. “No, no… No time. Gotta work…” he says, getting up and leaving the security office, heading for the exhibit halls.

[joostsblog]

promises and secrets - Peter Parker One Shot

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader 

Description: Peter and you are best friends and a great team, you share every secret, even the biggest one there is. Except, you don’t share one specific secret with Peter, that you are in love with him. 

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: No spoilers for any MCU movies. they go to college and Ned is in this for a bit as well. First work writing for Peter Parker! I’m really excited about his one, it’s so cute! I hope you enjoy, let me know your thoughts! if you wanna be tagged in future works of mine, please message me, I write for Tom Holland and Peter Parker! (masterlist is in my bio)

Warnings: a bit of angst, tiny bit of swearing and more use of the phrase what the heck than you have ever experienced in real life. 

PROMISES AND SECRETS 

You were laying on your stomach on your bed, laptop in front of you. You knew that you could be spending your time right now studying but you were too exhausted from the day, so instead, you were watching videos on YouTube. The wind was ever so slightly blowing through the window you left open for Peter, the air softly moving the white curtain in front of it. Your window was almost always open for your best friend. He was the best best friend you could ever ask for, you knew each other since you both went to the same High School and now you were going to the same College doing the same degree. You shared every single secret, even the biggest one. So when a little bit later Peter slipped through the window to lay beside you on the bed and laugh along to you at the videos playing it was like any other evening. And when Peter later got a call on his phone from Tony Stark you pouted at him for leaving already.

“Promise me, you’ll get enough sleep tonight?”, you asked as Peter was getting up, ready to leave. “And please take care of yourself.”, just like everyone in Peter’s life who knew about his secret, you were always worried about his dangerous double life. But you felt like you were the one that worried about him the most.

“Promise.”, Peter said and pressed a hasty kiss to your forehead before putting his spider-man mask on again and leaving through the window behind the white curtains. Peter’s words ringing in your ear and the exhaustion taking over your body helped you fall asleep sooner than you anticipated. 

Surely, when you woke up the next morning you were relieved to see the message from Peter saying got home safe. The phrase “text me when you get home” had taken a whole different meaning between the two of you. With Peter battling dangerous criminals every day and you knowing the secret identity of Spider-man and by that also being a potential target of criminal masterminds.

When you got ready to leave you grabbed your backpack, your study books, your notebook and a few notes you took for Peter during a lecture he missed due to some Avengers business. You and Peter were a great Team. If Ned was Peter’s guy in the chair, helping him get information about important missions, you were Peter’s girl to keep him on the ground. You were the one that always filled him in on everything he missed in lectures, you were the one to help him keep a cool mind when things with College and his superhero life got too much. You always gave him the best advice and sometimes you had to force him to take a break or to step back a bit for his own good. Yes, everyone deserves saving, but sometimes you can’t save everyone, and you needed to remind Peter of that so he wouldn’t risk his own life too much. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if anything bad ever happened to Peter and you could have prevented it.

Later that day, when you were done with your lectures you found yourself sitting in the library working on a group project which was due the next week with Ann and Kathrin. You knew the two from some lectures you took together, you had been meeting to get lunch or coffee a few times and now to work on the project, but you didn’t know each other too well. Your group was concentrated on the texts and papers sprawled across the table in front of you so much that you didn’t realize when Peter approached you. He placed a coffee and a blueberry muffin in front of you on the table and leaned down from where he was standing to place a short but firm kiss on the top of your head.

“I figured you would need some fuel.”, he joked.

“You’re the best.”, you beamed up to him and put your arms around his torso for a short hug. “See you tonight?”

“Promise.”, Peter smiled before leaving with his text books under his arm to look for a table in the library to study by himself.

You smiled to yourself when Peter left and took a sip from the coffee, he had gotten you. You noticed that Ann and Kathrin were watching you, smiling as well.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”, Ann said surprised. “You look really cute together.”, she added before you could properly process her words. Heat was immediately rushing to your face as you realized that to Ann Peter was probably already out of listening range, but you knew that he could probably still pick up what she just said with his enhanced senses.

“Peter? No no, we’re just best friends.”, you hastily answered, even though now you could see what Ann probably meant. It wasn’t off-limits that people would assume that you were together from the way you interacted with each other, how easily you two played off each other. But you never looked at each other in that way, you never looked Peter in that way. You had never seen him as anything more than a very good friend. But suddenly it was consuming your mind and even though you tried to direct your concentration towards the work in front of you, you weren’t quite able to fully concentrate on it anymore.

And that evening you were sitting on your bed watching a movie – a rom-com so maybe that wasn’t helping much either in your situation – trying to get the image of you and Peter as a couple out of your mind. You started to imagine how your interactions would change. Not much, really. You already cuddled to comfort each other sometimes, you already shared every secret and every free moment together. So, the only thing that would change is you two kissing. And as the movie was reaching its climax with the two leads finally coming to their senses and sharing their first kiss, you couldn’t help but imagine it was the two of you kissing. Suddenly your heart started beating like crazy in your chest and heat once again began raising to your cheeks as you admitted that you liked the thought of kissing Peter.

“Hi, (Y/N)!”

You shrieked out loud when Peter was entering through your window as usual and interrupted your daydreaming. In a swift move, you shut your laptop, maybe a tad too strongly.

“Oh my god, (Y/N). I’m sorry to startle you.”, Peter said with a smirk as he saw you calming down slowly. “Were you watching porn?”, he teased.

“No!”, you exclaimed and thought that maybe it would be best if you lied and said yes. “You just scared me, Peter!”, you said, hand laid across your chest as if to calm down your heartbeat.

“Okay okay.”, Peter laughed and seated himself beside you on your bed. “Thanks for the notes by the way.”

“What?”, you asked confused, still recovering from the scare.

“The notes you took for me? They are always better than the ones I take myself. And so cute. The doodles are just the best.”, Peter said referring to the little drawings you always added to the sides to hopefully cheer Peter up when he was revising.

“Of course. Everything for you.”, you smiled as Peter put his arm around your shoulders. You couldn’t deny that for the first time, your heart suddenly started beating faster than usual when Peter was touching you. You grew uncomfortable as you remembered the thoughts you had about Peter kissing you just a few minutes prior when you were only friends. You shouldn’t be fantasising about your best friend like that. You didn’t want to ruin the amazing friendship you built. Thinking about the possibility of that made you sad already. So, you decided to ban those thoughts to the back of your mind and just continue with the friendship as if nothing had ever happened. After all, this was the first time you thought about those things anyway.

Your promise to yourself didn’t last for long. From now on, every interaction with Peter felt different. Whenever Peter was getting you a treat or when you hugged or when you were cuddling in your bed, you felt as if suddenly there was a different energy in the room. Suddenly they didn’t feel like small signs of affection between two friends anymore. Instead, you wished that every time you hugged each other goodbye that you could just get on your tiptoes to kiss him instead. And every time you would imagine that you hated yourself a little more for even wishing for something like that.

So without even realizing it too much, you slowly grew a little bit distant to Peter. More often you would now answer I have to study to Peter’s text, asking if you were free. And then sometimes you would even lie a little when he would suggest you just study together and send him a text saying it’s for a class you’re not taking. And you would slowly drop the amount of funny and cute doodles on the sides of your notes you carefully took for Peter. Your hugs became shorter, your cuddles colder in an effort to keep yourself falling for your best friend.

There was nothing that could stop it though. Because, without realising it, you had already fallen for your best friend a long time ago. You were only keeping yourself from realising it.

Eventually, it came to a point where Peter started to notice something was off. So, when he swung by your window unannounced one evening and he saw you cuddled up to yourself in your blankets, fixated on a book in your lap, trying your best to ignore Peter’s presence, it fell apart.

“What the heck is up with you?”, Peter snapped after a few minutes of him sitting on your desk chair, fiddling with his mask in his hand when you didn’t react much to him making conversation.

“Geez.”, you said when you finally looked up from your book, only holding eye contact with Peter for a few small seconds. “Nothing.”, you shrugged with your shoulders, hoping he would just drop it again.

“Nothing? Are you serious? You’re ignoring me right now!”, Peter said, slowly raising his voice.

“I’m not.”, you mumbled, even though you knew he was right.

“You know what?”, Peter got up from your chair, obviously having enough of it. “Text me when you can talk to me normally again.”, he said snappy and put his mask back on before leaving through your window again.

As soon as he left you felt guilt washing over you. You knew your behaviour was unacceptable, that it could potentially ruin your friendship you had with Peter and you cursed yourself for it. Frustrated you ran your hands through your hair as a tear ran down your cheek. You concluded that tomorrow you would put your act together and apologize to Peter. Maybe you should just be honest with him about your feelings, but you weren’t sure about that. For now, apologizing and rebuilding your friendship would be the first task, you decided.

But when you woke up the next morning your heart dropped to your stomach when you noticed that Peter hadn’t texted you last night that he got home safely. Either he was just angry with you and didn’t text your or something bad happ-

You didn’t even allow yourself to think something like that, so instead, you texted Peter. Have you gotten home safely last night? Can I see you today? I need to talk to you. And when you got to campus you had convinced yourself that Peter was only angry with you and didn’t text you because of that. You tried to keep the bad thoughts to the back of your mind, not worrying too much.

But the alarm bells started ringing again when at noon, Peter still hadn’t texted you back and Ned Leeds approached you.

“Have you seen Peter?”, he asked you.

“Not since last night. Have you?”, you answered, worry growing inside of you.

“No, we were supposed to meet for class two hours ago.”

When those words left Ned’s mouth you felt as if the world was suddenly turning around you. Your head was dizzy with all the thoughts flooding it.

“Have you tried calling him?”, you asked, trying to organize your thoughts.

“Straight to voicemail.”

“Shit shit shit.”, muttered and walked over to the nearest chance to sit down for you. “We've gotta do something.”, you said as tears started welling up in your eyes.

Ned only nodded in agreement and not long after you found an empty group study room you could occupy. You started up the computer while Ned was already typing away on the laptop, he brought with him. You tried to search social media, news articles for any recent mentions of Spider-man. Usually, this wasn’t the kind of stuff you did, usually, Ned was Peter’s guy for this work. You could tell because Ned was already trying to hack Peter’s suit AI to find his location.

“Does this happen a lot?”, you asked Ned as he was concentrating on the screen in front of him. It took him a little bit before you could give a definite answer.

“No, but it has happened. Sometimes Peter is just not much of a team player and doesn’t give you a notice.”, Ned’s words sparked a little bit of hope in you. “But I think this is the most extreme case of that so far.”, crushing the spark of hope again.

An hour later you and Ned still hadn’t found anything. You had been stuck on a loop in the customer service hotline of Stark Industries because, of course, you didn’t have Tony Stark’s private phone number.

“I’ve got his location!”, Ned exclaimed suddenly. You darted over to where he was seated to look at his screen.

“Chicago?”, you read out loud. “How are we gonna go there, that’s like a 12-hour bus drive!”, you were already starting to think over your options.

“I can detect movement though. Let’s wait another 30 minutes first and see whether he moves or stays in one place.”, Ned suggested.

“Okay.”, you settled in your seat again. “It’s bad if he doesn’t move, right?”

“Yes, I can basically detect his movement down to a meter. So, if he doesn’t move any meter that would be very bad.”, Ned explained. Fear rushed over you at the image of Peter being tied to a chair in a warehouse somewhere or even worse-

“Who the heck uses meters? Are you trying to be a posh European?”, you teased Ned, trying to distract yourself from the imaginary in your head.

“The metric system just makes more sense.”, Ned shrugged his shoulders and continued to watch his laptop screen. “He’s moving.”, Ned stated. “Not much though, from the movement, it could be possible that he’s in a fight right now.”

Even though Peter was fighting crime every day, this was different. He was in a different city, without any notice and you didn’t know whether he was alone or not. Ten minutes later Ned informed you that Peter has been moving at a faster pace now.

“If this keeps up, it looks like he’s possibly flying back to New York.”

“Thank god.”, you muttered and put your hands on your face, only now realizing that it was covered in tears. “How long till he’s back?”

“Probably in around 1 and a half hours if he keeps it up.”

“Should we go back to his apartment?”, you suggested, and Ned agreed.

Two hours later you both were sat on the couch at Peter’s apartment when the door clicked and opened. Both of you quickly sitting up and turning your heads to see Peter walk in, looking fine and wearing normal clothes.

“Dude!”, Ned exclaimed, making Peter jump slightly in surprise.

“What the heck?”, he asked when he saw you both sitting on his couch.

“No, Peter, what the heck?”, you opposed, your words filled with anger. “Where have you been?”

“On a mission with the Avengers.”, he answered as he set his backpack by the side of the door.

“Dude, you have to tell us.”, Ned said after he stood up and walked towards Peter to hug him. “You seriously can’t do that.”, Ned said silently after he hugged Peter. Peter let his eyes quickly dart over to your face and noticed the red swollen eyes looking back at him.

“My phone died, I’m sorry.”, Peter said.

“And Tony Stark doesn’t have a phone charger on his multi-million-dollar quinjet?”, you snapped. Peter only shrugged his shoulders. All you wanted to do was just hug Peter, but you were still angry with him and you didn’t feel like it was the right choice, with everything that happened last night.

“I’m gonna go.”, Ned said and patted Peter on his back before sharing one last look with you.

“Don’t you wanna go as well?”, Peter asked as he was running his hand through his curls.

“You don’t know what I want.”

“That’s true.”, he said, undertone in his voice clear as he was settling himself on the other end of the couch opposite of you.

“So you really had no form of communication to tell us you were okay? We missed class because we tried to-“, you said before Peter was harshly interrupting you.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)! Quit it!”, Peter put his hand into his hands. “You have no idea what it’s like to be a superhero. You have no idea how tired I am right now because you have no idea what a mission like this means!”, Peter raised his voice, his eyes already glistening from tears. “And then you only make it worse with your weird behaviour. So, if you’re only here to make me feel worse, please just go.”, when Peter looked you directly in the eyes to tell you the last sentence it broke your heart. This was the first time you had ever fought. You tried to swallow down the tears, but you couldn’t stop them from coming up again. You knew this was exactly everything you wanted to avoid.

“Damnit, Peter. I was worried. I had no idea where you were and I knew you were angry with me.”, you tried to explain yourself. “I am so sorry for last night, Pete.”, you almost whispered now. “I could not live in a world where anything bad happens to you.”, you admitted, looking deep into Peter’s eyes but not being able to read his expression.

“Didn’t look like that last night…”, Peter muttered under his breath.

“I am sorry! I know I have been distant recently. I didn’t mean to be.”, you said, not sure how you could explain your behaviour.

“We were always the best team, (Y/N). Why did you suddenly act as if I was invisible to you?”, Peter asked, hurt obvious in his voice.

“You’re going to hate me if I tell you.”, you said, your eyes avoiding Peter’s gaze.

“No.”, Peter said empathetically as he was scooting closer to you. “I could never hate you.”, he said and took one of your hands into his, unsure whether that was okay for you. You knew that the very base you two built your friendship upon was honesty. And you knew that honesty was the only way you answer to Peter right now.

“Pete, you are my bestest friend in the world and I don’t want that to ever change…”, you said, still not looking up from the hands of the two of you intertwined in your lap. “But I have a feeling this is going to ruin our friendship.”, you slowly continued. “I’m in love with you.”, you said, already bracing for whatever reaction Peter would have to this. The few seconds that lasted after your confession felt as if they were hours. You didn’t know you had been holding your breath until Peter finally moved. He released his hand from your grip. Of course, you thought yourself, it’s over now. You didn’t allow yourself to look up now, too afraid to see Peter’s weirded out face. You were only frozen in place, unable to move as a cold shiver ran through your whole body. Before you could release your body from its stare to leave Peter, as it was the only logical thing to escape this hurtful silence, Peter’s hand moved towards you again. This time it reached for your face to gently cup your cheek in his warm hand.

“(Y/N)-baby…”, Peter said in a low voice, almost only a whisper. “Look at me.”, he said as he used his other hand to cup your other cheek, using his thumbs to slowly wipe away some of your tears that had already gone cold. You slowly raised your gaze, surprised to see that Peter still had tears in his eyes, but he had a small smile on his lips. “I’m in love with you too.”, he said, making your heart skip a beat and your breath hitch. “Weren’t you able to tell by now?”, he asked, only making you shake your head in turn, because, no, you hadn’t noticed. But suddenly all those moments of affection flooded your mind. All the times Peter brought you coffee without even asking, all the times you two cuddled in bed, watching all your favourite movies and shows, all the times Peter took you for a swing around the city and all the cool buildings he brought you to the top of to watch countless sunsets with you. After all, those weren’t signs of affection between friends. “Stop thinking so much.”, Peter laughed as he practically saw how much time you spent making sense of all the things. And before you could say something yourself, Peter used his hands resting on your face to move your faces together and to finally lock his lips with yours. A warmth you had never felt before immediately overcame your body as Peter’s soft lips were innocently pressed on top of yours. They tasted sweet and if they could taste like it, they would also taste like comfort and familiarity. You finally gave into the tingling in your fingertips when you moved them from your lap, to find their place in Peter’s soft but unruly curls. After your lips disconnected again you two immediately fell into a long comforting hug.

“I can’t believe this.”, you mumbled as your face was pressed against Peter’s chest.

“Me neither.”, Peter laughed and pressed a kiss on top of your head. “Promise me next time you will just tell me what you’re feeling, instead of just ignoring me?”

“I’m sorry.”, you said truthfully. “I promise.”

“No more secrets.” 

~

Permanent tag list:

@sltwins @roosterteethgirl @ffxfancy

[harryandmolly]

Complicit // Introduction

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, allusion to sexual content, perhaps the Most Extra OC I’ve written to date

WC: 2.2k

----------

Penny closes one eye and scrunches up her face, digging through her S/S 2018 monogrammed Louis Vuitton tote for her work phone. It buzzes hard, rattling against her Oliver Peoples sunglasses, until she can fling some chestnut hair from her face and answer it.

“Caught me just before we’re leaving for the airport,” she says breezily, squinting out the bay window of the whitewashed St. Lucia suite looking over the lapis ocean, “What’s up?”

“I have such a treat for you,” chuckles Silver.

A familiar thrill shoots down Penny’s spine. She swallows and casts a glance around the room for her vacation companion. He’s nowhere to be seen.

“Who is it?”

Silver, being Silver, pauses for dramatic effect.

“It’s Shawn Mendes.”

A pause. Penny’s well kept brow furrows.

“Who?”

+

Niall first realized something was really wrong when Shawn didn’t want to go to 40 Love. In fact, he didn’t want to go anywhere. Niall had to go to him, to his house in Beachwood Canyon, just to see his old friend.

He eyes him warily, watching Shawn stare out the window overlooking the Hills. He’s got a guitar pick in the pocket of his sweats. His fingers fumble with it while he thinks.

“So… things are bad,” Niall guesses.

Shawn takes too long to shrug and angle his head back at Niall. “Not… bad. Just weird.”

Niall leans forward, propping his elbows up on his knees and holding his beer bottle aloft, examining the shedding label.

“I get it. It’s a weird situation. Honestly, I… I was pretty surprised.”

Shawn bobs his head and feels his jaw tighten against his will. “I think a lot of people are.”

Niall is quiet for almost a full minute. He shakes a hand through his coarse brown hair. “I get it, though. I mean, you know I do, mate. Going from teenager to adult in this business is somethin’ most people don’t even get to do. But doin’ it… it’s hard. So I get it, why this thing makes sense for ya.”

Shawn is silent, fidgeting in front of the window.

Niall lifts a shoulder, looking to lighten the mood. “Least she’s not a nightmare.”

It gets a short, rough chuckle from Shawn, which Niall considers progress. Shawn finally turns looking worse for wear as he shuffles to sit in the armchair across from the couch, shoulders hunched, legs spread.

“I don’t think I would’ve agreed to a publicity stunt relationship with someone I hate,” He pauses and chews on the inside of his lip, “I dunno, maybe I would’ve at this point.”

Niall lowers his gaze. He recognizes the old, faded remnants of Catholic guilt in his gut and does what he can to tamp them down. His progression from teen heartthrob of One Direction fame to singer-songwriter hasn’t been easy in comparison to Shawn’s. Hell, he’ll always be one of the 1D boys -- there’s really no changing that. He’s made his peace with it.

His young friend, 21 now and in the industry since he was 15, has to do the same. Niall’s been paying attention. Shawn Mendes has been stratospheric for a while. His third album was a massive success. He sold out arenas on a world tour that even One Direction’s *cough* ambitious management wouldn’t sniff at. But the Armani smart watch ads and even the Calvin Klein campaign haven’t saved him from being a “prince of pop.”

It’s not the worst thing you can be called, Shawn and Niall both know. But it’s diminutive, it’s a little condescending, it’s sweet. Shawn has always been sweet. He is the ultimate nice Canadian boy, the antidote to Bieber’s downfall.

But he’s growing the fuck up and the rest of it -- the music, the tours, the image -- it has to grow, too.

It was Shawn and Bex’s shared publicist who first mentioned the idea. Bex, single name, like Madonna, is an old friend. She’s a Nickelodeon star-turned-pop singer who came up around the same time Shawn was sitting in a computer chair posting to Vine and YouTube. He likes Bex, she’s cool. They’ve written together and yeah, they’ve fucked a couple times when they were drunk and needed distractions from their own lives for various reasons. But he doesn’t get that feeling about Bex. He knows the feeling is out there. But that’s not what this thing with her is for.

“It’s a proven effective way to age you up in the public’s eyes,” Emily advised him, doing that thing where she dips her chin a little toward her chest and widens her eyes, the ‘you really should listen to me’ face, “And aging you up is the only way to get you where you really want to go. The teenage girls can get you places. Fuck, they can even make you a legend. But they can’t get you the world’s respect.”

Shawn thought it was insane at first. Lie about a relationship? Isn’t that kind of seedy? Won’t people see right through it?

He shifts uncomfortably in the chair. He still wonders these things sometimes. But the righteous indignation he felt last year when it came up is an ancient memory. He picks moodily at his own beer bottle sitting on the arm of the chair.

“You see someone, right? Like a therapist?” Niall verifies. Shawn nods absently.

Niall goes silent again for longer than usual. Shawn looks up to see his friend pensive.

“What?”

Niall shrugs and lifts his eyes to Shawn’s carefully. “Not the only thing you could be doing to manage this. The stress, ya know? And anxiety.”

Shawn bristles the way he does whenever someone suggests he’s not doing enough of something. Before he can open his mouth, Niall steps on his own words.

“I mean, ya know, there’s someone else ya can be seein’.”

Shawn’s face is blank. Niall’s going to have to explain the idea as painfully and awkwardly as it was explained to him by a friend a couple years ago.

“I’ve been seein’ a girl on and off for three years. Not always the same one, I mean. For stress relief.”

Shawn, as sweet and doe-eyed as he doesn’t want to be, isn’t picking up what Niall’s putting down.

“What, like a chiropractor?” Shawn guesses, his brow creasing.

Niall slugs back the last slurp of his beer. “No, like a domme.”

+

Penny waits until she’s back in her three bedroom Studio City home, quiet and removed in the hills just like she likes, to call Silver back.

Gus, her favorite agency driver, picked her up from the Santa Monica airport after she kissed one of her favorite clients, Victor Calhoun, goodbye and hauled in all her luggage from a week in St. Lucia. For barely needing to be dressed at all for a week, she brought a ton of shit with her. She makes a mental note to rethink that for next time, but she also thinks Victor likes that she’s high maintenance. Or seemingly high maintenance, she thinks with a smile as she pads barefoot around her cottage in panties and an old t-shirt, bag of popcorn in hand.

She drops onto her couch while the phone rings on speaker in her lap. She stretches out her slender legs, admiring her robust tan.

“Hey, bitch.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Penny laughs, dropping some popped kernels into her mouth, “Been holding down the fort ok?”

“Yes, believe it or not, I survived a week without you. How was St. Lucia? Was Victor a very good boy?”

Penny smirks. “Always. So good, in fact, I’ve been taking low doses of muscle relaxants for three days to keep myself from getting lockjaw.”

Silver snorts. “That man loves a blow job.”

Penny sifts through some burnt kernels, locating an extra buttery looking piece toward the bottom of the bag and eyeing it like treasure.

“So,” she begins, crunching indelicately into the phone, “Tell me about Shawn Mendes. Who referred him?”

“Niall Horan.”

“Oh, he’s been seeing Karina, right?”

“Yep, she keeps him very much in line. He’s quiet about La Splendeur -- he’s not the guy telling all his friends about how much he’s paying to get dommed by a call girl. He’s selective with his referrals.”

Penny lifts an eyebrow and shrugs. “Those are usually our favorite kind of clients, I guess.”

Silver snorts. “Less messy, certainly. Anyway, Karina adores him, so that bodes well.”

“Who, Shawn?”

“No, actually, as far as I can tell, he’s new. None of my contacts have a history of him seeing anyone.”

Now Penny is really intrigued. It’s not that often she gets a client that has never seen a call girl before. Being a courtesan, the elitest of the elite escorts, clients generally work their way up the food chain to her.

But he’s new. Fresh, untouched, curious. Silver’s right. This is a special treat.

“Well, I downloaded his music, so I’ll have a listen. I recognize a few of the tracks. Anything else I should know?”

“Well, babe, no client history means you start from scratch, research-wise. I’d say be prepared for anything. He seems like your usual sweet, pretty boy, which as you know, can mean anything goes.”

Penny bobs her head thoughtfully, already mentally scanning wardrobe options and toys.

“When?”

“Thursday at 8, Chateau. Give you some time to recover from your potential lockjaw.”

Penny’s laugh is loud and sizzling, one she rarely uses in front of clients, but she and Silver have known each other a long time.

“Good. Plus, I like a few days of anticipation for new guys. Gets ‘em all worked up before I even get in the door.”

“And that is why you’re worth every Penny.”

Penny rolls her eyes and hangs up on the millionth time Silver has made that same adorably stupid joke.

+

Penny’s always liked the Chateau Marmont. It was the site of her first appointment. She remembers being nauseous with nerves walking through the doors that night, sure she’d be arrested just for stepping foot inside. She felt like she had the word “NEFARIOUS” stamped across her pretty forehead.

But she held her head high and focused on the rhythm of her Jimmy Choos, purchased especially for the occasion, on the fine marble floor. As instructed, she didn’t even spare a glance for the front desk. She strode in, not too fast, not too slow, and headed straight for the elevators. The concierge would recognize her from a picture passed along by her madam, Silver, and let her by without a problem. That’s one of Silver’s treasured trade secrets -- most working girls choose lower key locations for dates. Hiding in plain sight, especially at tourist attractions, heavily reduces suspicion, hence why Silver struck up a deal with the Chateau’s concierge years ago. Her girls get a pass, he gets a cut.

The booking is made under the name of the driver who arrives early to check in and drop off Penny’s suitcase while she window shops nearby or grabs a glass of wine at the bar. When the client arrives and is OK’d by the driver for security reasons, Penny gets a text and makes her entrance. Before the driver excuses himself to the car, he checks in with Silver to make sure the client’s wire transfer is complete. Once those initial checkpoints are crossed, the night is Penny’s.

Tonight is no different, really, Penny tells herself as she steps out of the Bentley, offered a hand by the Chateau’s valet. She sneaks him a sultry smile just because getting men squirming for her before she even meets her client feels like a good way to hype up.

But it feels different, somehow. The Hollywood evening’s breeze is especially pleasant, the hotel is especially quiet, and the night especially charged as she heads inside hugged in tastefully cut black satin and wearing her favorite black Roger Viviers. She ignores the way the hair on the back of her smooth olive neck stands on end when the elevator dings upon arrival to the specified floor.

Gus, standing outside the door in a dark suit with his arms crossed, gives her a nod, indicating all is set and well. She rises on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. She knows by now she can’t make Gus squirm, so she doesn’t try. He stands aside and opens the door.

He’s sitting on the couch, facing the windows on the opposite wall. His posture is hunched and she can see his shoulders are broad. She tries not to lick her lips.

He turns slightly, looking over his shoulder. His profile catches the orange lamplight. It’s even more magnificent in person. Penny feels a jolt from her squished toes up her very straight spine. She smiles.

He stands, one hand limp by his side, the other clutching a sweating glass of bourbon. Penny can’t wait to taste it on his pretty lips.

Facing her, his jaw tightens, muscles flexing, and his eyes darken just a shade, or maybe she imagines it because she bets hers do the same.

“Penny?”

His voice is a croak. He notices -- he goes magenta moments later. The familiar animal that lives in her stirs, stretching, limbering up.

“Hi, Shawn.”

-------

Ooooh it’s that time again! Ya girl has a new solo series to sink her teeth into. If you’re happy and you know it, buy me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod

[kaistarus]

Clickbait(YouTuberAU)--Chapter 5

Pairings: Kiribaku, Tododeku

Words: 4,437

Summary:  A lot of great things came with being a big name YouTuber, but along with those perks were some serious drawbacks. One of the biggest being your lack of personal privacy.

Due to just one video, Kirishima's least well-kept secret has become a viral sensation overnight, and now he has to deal with the repercussions from both the YouTube community and the public. Hopefully, those he's dragging down with him won't mind...

Notes: Welcome to how many Buzzfeed Unsolved references can I fit into one chapter lol. Had a lot of fun with this, so I hope you all like it!!

Read the full thing here

Kirishima laid haphazardly across the leather sofa, upper body sunk perfectly into the cushion now melded for his form. He shoveled a mouthful of Americanized-Chinese take-out that had been ordered once too often that week and numbed his mind with another Disney princess movie. As Rapunzel cupped Eugene’s cheek, singing through tears to bring her new love back from the dead he brushed his thumb longingly against his cell phone. If only he had someone who would cut their hair and sing to him if he were dying.

“Are you just going lay there and mope all day?

Kirishima groaned, pausing the movie with his phone. “I’m not moping. I’m relaxing.”

“You’ve been on that couch for the past three days,” Sero said. He kicked one of many take-out boxes surrounding Kirishima. “In those same clothes.”

Kirishima pulled his childhood Crimson Riot blanket above his head. It had been a full week since he and Bakugou exchanged numbers, and the only thing he received from him was a thumbs-up emoji when Kirishima texted him about their video hitting number one trending. An emoji like that basically meant ‘fuck off’ in text lingo. Kirishima hadn’t known what he did wrong, but he could take a hint.

“Do you think you could be… overreacting?” Sero asked.

Kirishima pulled the blanket down far enough to glare at Sero. “I would never overreact about this.”

“Clearly.”

Kirishima didn’t care what Sero thought. He would rather lay here in the mingled smell of Chinese leftovers and armpit stench than face reality.

His cocoon of warmth was ripped away as Sero pulled the fleece blanket off. Kirishima sat up and reached after the covers, but Sero had been too fast.

“What the hell, dude,” Kirishima said, giving up and lying back down.

“Mina told me I needed to get you up today, and I fear her more on a good day than you on your worst.”

That was fair, but it didn’t mean Kirishima liked it. He turned to face away from Sero and burrow further into the cushion’s warmth, not suspecting Sero to grip his legs and drag him off the sofa. “Bro, what the fuck!” Kirishima said, kicking at Sero’s hands and gripping the armrest for dear life.

Sero won. Kirishima flopped belly first onto plush carpet, feet atop Sero’s lap who’d fallen over the moment Kirishima lost his holding on the side of the couch. Before Kirishima could berate Sero for ruining his depressive episode the couch cushions started to vibrate. He realized his phone fell between the cracks during their tussle.

Kirishima figured Mina was calling to check on him and he had a thing or two to say to her. He dug between the cracks, annoyance allowing him to ignore a large number of crumbs his fingertips were brushing and whipped his phone to his ear.

“Mina if you don’t start minding your own—"

“Kirishima!” Midoriya’s voice threw Kirishima off guard. He pulled the phone away and nearly dropped the device when ‘Bakugou Katsuki’ flashed in all caps. “I’m so glad you picked up.”

“Yeah,” Kirishima said confused. Midoriya was panting heavily, and it sounded like the phone was being jostled around. “Are you okay, dude? Why do you have Bakugou’s—"

“Everything’s fine! Hey, we’re filming today, and I was wondering if you wanted to come to hang out?” Midoriya asked. Kirishima strained to hear what he thought was yelling in the background.

“We, like, Mysteries Unsolved?”

“Yeah! You and I still haven’t talked. I need to get to know the guy that Kacchan—oof.”

There were muffled arguments after Kirishima assumed the phone had been dropped. He called out to Midoriya a few times, growing concerned when he heard a high-pitched squeal.

“Shitty Hair?” A husky voice filtered to his ear. Kirishima’s mouth went dry and he gripped the phone tighter.

“Uh, that’s me?”

“What did that fucker say?” Bakugou asked. “He’s a damn liar. You can’t trust him.”

Kirishima looked up at Sero who had started eating the rest of the General Tso he’d gotten for lunch. Kirishima kicked him onto his side.

“He said you were filming today and that I should come over.”

“Oh.” The line went quiet for a little too long and Kirishima had to check they were still connected. “That’s fine. You should do that.”

“Are you sure? I don’t have—”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Suddenly the fact that he’d been wearing the same clothes for three days became more apparent. “I just gotta get ready and then I’ll head over.”

They said their goodbyes and Kirishima fell back onto his back with a sigh. Sero crawled to hover over him with a mocking look and Kirishima eyed him suspiciously. “What?”

“I would never overreact.” He said, voice pitched higher and face scrunched, shaking his head and clearly mocking him. Kirishima shoved him onto his side again and rolled into a squatting position to boost himself up. He had to wash off his depression stank.

~*~*~*~

Kirishima realized, standing in front of Bakugou’s red-bricked apartment complex, that it was a lot less intimidating than he remembered. Maybe because he didn’t have the feel of impending doom rolling around in his stomach this time.

“Alright,” Sero said, leaning across the passenger seat. “Text me if you need anything.”

“Yes, mom,” Kirishima said while rolling his eyes.

“And be safe. Those are basically strangers up there.”

“Okay, mom.”

“And make sure you use protection. I can’t take care of any more children.”

“Sero. Leave.”

Sero laughed and drove off, leaving Kirishima to grumble his way down the stone path lined with daisies and white-painted benches with hearts cut into the backs. Kirishima paused to watch a small bird drink from a layered fountain—had he seriously been freaking out over this place? He reached the glass vestibule that buzzed the moment he texted Bakugou he’d arrived. Unlike the last time he came to the complex Kirishima navigated the dimly lit halls much easier, only getting lost once. He blamed it on the random flyer informing tenants not to leave their dog’s droppings in the hallway.

He found the silver plaque reading 420 rather quickly and after a self-pep talk knocked strongly on the wooden door. He bounced on the balls of his feet, and when the door pulled open the guy with half his hair dyed from the party was staring blankly back at him. Kirishima remembered Uraraka saying he was Bakugou’s roommate and their editor, how did he forget he’d be here.

“Shitty Hair.” Todoroki—he thinks that’s what Uraraka called him—said. Kirishima waited for more, but after an uncomfortably long time staring at each other, he realized that was it.

“Can I come in, please?”

Todoroki’s eyes narrowed and he found himself shrinking under the gaze. He thought once things had been figured out between him and Bakugou this Todoroki guy wouldn’t hate him anymore, but it looks like he’d been wrong.

“Is that Kirishima?” Midoriya came bounding up from behind Todoroki. “What are you doing in the hall? Come on, we’re almost done setting up!”

Kirishima slid past Todoroki with as much space as possible. The apartment looked massive compared to how it’d felt crammed with all those people the night of the party. The furniture that Kaminari had fallen off was now pushed against the walls to make room for the set that Kirishima had seen in so many of their YouTube videos. An old wooden table and chairs became the focus and a backdrop was being set up behind them. Taped to the backdrop were wanted posters, maps with red string and post-its, and various black and white photos of vehicles, people, and crime scenes. Kirishima felt an uncontrollable smile start to form.

“I always pictured you having a studio or something.”

“It looks more complicated than it is.” Midoriya shrugged. “It’s already intact in Todoroki’s room. We just move it out here.”

“You keep the table in your room?” Kirishima asked turning to Todoroki.

“It’s our dining set.”

Kirishima eyed the old, cracked table and the two uncomfortable chairs. He couldn’t imagine having to sit on those for anything other than a short film session.

“Kacchan is in Todoroki’s room grabbing the last of the camera equipment,” Midoriya said. “If you wanted to go help him.” Kirishima did. He nodded to Midoriya and wandered down the only hallway that could lead to other rooms. He had no clue which door led to Todoroki’s room, but after hearing several curses he had a pretty good idea.

He nudged the ajar door open with his foot and found Bakugou headfirst in a closet.

“Fucking half-and-half bastard. I told him to leave them out, but nobody ever fucking listens to me. I swear to fucking god I’m going to lose my mind.” Bakugou muttered to himself while throwing clothing items and books behind him.

“Would you like help?”

Bakugou pulled out of the closet too quickly, causing a few crashes to be heard inside. “Hey.” He said breathlessly. Kirishima figured from digging around in the closet so long.

“Hi.”

“I’ve almost got it. Just hold on.” Bakugou said before diving back into whatever chaos Todoroki maintained in there.

Kirishima took small steps around the room that was about as plain as the owner itself. The walls were blank, the bedspread was grey, and even his computer desk was barren. The only thing that stood out was the two pictures hung above his bedframe with scotch tape. The first was him, Midoriya, and Bakugou holding their one-millionth subscriber plaque, and the second was two young boys in jerseys covered in dirt, the blonde boy had a cocky grin with his arm slung around a pale-haired boy who smiled shyly.

“You can carry these.” Bakugou offered Kirishima two heavy leather bags filled with equipment only Sero could name. He followed Kirishima’s gaze to the pictures on Todoroki’s wall and scoffed. “I told the hag not to give him that.”

“Is that you?”

“Yeah, but it’s a stupid picture.” Bakugou nudged Kirishima forward with his own case. “I don’t know why he likes it so much.”

Kirishima followed Bakugou out of the room to help him unpack the equipment while Midoriya and Todoroki completed the backdrop.

“Kacchan, I’m going to start recording the voiceover,” Midoriya said, walking toward the hall with Todoroki trailing after.

“Fucking do whatever I don’t care.”

“Voiceover?” Kirishima asked.

“Yeah, the dramatic explaining bull shit. Half-and-half cuts it in with us fucking around. It sounds cleaner that way.”

Kirishima nodded. That made sense. He guessed he never thought about it that intensely while just casually watching. “So, what’s the topic today?”

Bakugou shrugged. “The dynamic works better if I don’t know.” He said, struggling with a tripod. Kirishima sat cross-legged and watched helpfully. “I set up all the outings and Deku does this bull shit.”

Kirishima’s jaw dropped, “but I thought you hated being a ghost hunter.”

“I’m not a fucking ghost hunter.” Bakugou paused, staring blankly ahead. “Am I a ghost hunter?”

“I mean by definition...” Kirishima shrugged. “Sorry, dude.”

“I don’t want to be a fucking ghost hunter. This is bull shit!”

Todoroki poked his head out from the end of the hallway. “Izuku would like me to pass on, ‘Kacchan shut the fuck up. You’re ruining my recording’.”

“Tell him to suck a fat one.”

“I will not.” Todoroki left and Bakugou stuck his tongue out childishly.

“Izuku?” Kirishima asked.

“Yep,” Bakugou motioned for Kirishima to hand him one of the items lying beside him. “You give someone a place to stay and they betray you by sleeping with the enemy.”

“That didn’t sound overdramatic at all.”

“I’m not overdramatic.” He muttered under his breath. Kirishima leaned back on his palms and glanced back to where Todoroki had disappeared.

Midoriya’s head poked out from the hall. “Kirishima there’s a fun ransom note in this case and I was wondering if you wanted to do the voiceover for it?”

“Fun ransom note?” Bakugou shook his head.

“Me?”

“Normally Todoroki would, but since you’re here I figured it’d be fun to switch things up.”

Kirishima scrambled up and bounded down to the room opposite Todoroki’s. Bakugou’s room had a lot more to take in than Todoroki’s had. The amount of superhero merchandise—All Might specifically—that Bakugou had was impressive even to Kirishima. He had posters hung all over, actions figures and Funko Pops on bookshelves—most unopened, comic books resting on his nightstand, and an All Might blanket strewn across his black comforter. In between the superhero posters were a few pop-punk bands from the early 2000s that he was sure Sero would appreciate.

Kirishima’s eyes landed on a silver laptop on Bakugou’s bed that had a few YouTuber’s logo stickers on them. He noticed one was worn and nearly peeling off the surface, and it took him a moment to recognize it as his own logo. It was Kirishima’s first attempt at merch from nearly four years ago. He’d changed his design completely since then since hardly anyone had bought those. Bakugou had said he only knew so much about the Vlog Squad because Midoriya watched their videos in college. If that was true why would he have—

“Alright, here are the sections we need,” Midoriya said, handing him a paper with several highlighted sentences.

“Do I have to read it all dramatic?” Kirishima asked, skimming the words. He took a seat in front of their expensive-looking microphone while Todoroki clicked various buttons on the screen before him. This was all completely out of his basic editing toolbox.

“Just read them like you want to kidnap and murder a little girl,” Todoroki said somehow disinterested.

“Shoto.” Midoriya smacked his arm lightly. He muttered under his breath, leaning back and gesturing to the mic in front of Kirishima. He stared at it blankly.

“Don’t worry too much,” Bakugou said, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms. “Whatever you do will be fine.”

“If not, I’ll just rerecord it when you leave.”

Midoriya smacked Todoroki again. Bakugou gave Kirishima a millisecond half-smile and that was all the encouragement he needed to begin. The ‘fun’ ransom note turned out to be extremely depressing, and unfortunately, Kirishima ended up having to read it several times before getting a good take. He fumbled over a few larger words, but Midoriya was incredibly forgiving. After all the unnecessary compliments he received Kirishima left confident that he’d performed decent enough for a working edit.

“Alright, time to get this bitch over with,” Bakugou said, kicking off the doorframe.

“That’s the spirit Kacchan.”

Excitement fluttered through Kirishima’s stomach as Bakugou and Midoriya took their seats. He sat atop their kitchen counter a few meters behind the film equipment so any noise he made wouldn’t get picked up by audio. Todoroki made a few final adjustments to Bakugou’s set up, ignoring his insulted rants, and counted off to signal the start of filming. Once the camera was on he moved back beside Kirishima, and it was clear by his cold demeanor that he had little intention of humoring him with a conversation.

Like all videos, Midoriya began with explaining that week’s topic while Bakugou half-listened, twirling a red pen between his fingers. They would be covering the unsolved murder of a young girl, a case that their patron had been actively requesting. Midoriya barely got three minutes in before Bakugou interjected.

“Are those business folders going to be a regular thing now?”

“I was planning on it,” Midoriya said. “Why? Does it bother you that I look professional now?”

“No. It pisses me off because I know a bunch of ghost bull shit is going to end up in there.” Bakugou said, leaning back in his chair.

“Well, it’s not bull shit, so sorry but—”

“Wait,” Bakugou turned serious and put his hands up. “Did you hear that?”

Midoriya shook his head and Bakugou pointed his pen downwards. “It was my chair squeaking. Did you think it was a ghost? I’m just making sure you know the difference.”

Kirishima snorted. Bakugou and Midoriya both turned to him, Bakugou’s expression elated and Midoriya’s crestfallen.

“Kirishima,” Midoriya said whining.

“I’m sorry.”

“This is great.” Bakugou crossed his arms behind his head for support as he leaned back. “We should have a live audience more often.”

“This audience is biased, and you know it,” Midoriya muttered under his breath.

Bakugou rolled his eyes and waved for Midoriya to start up again. They continued with the episode and Kirishima tried his best to force down laughter whenever Bakugou made a snide remark. It hadn’t helped that Bakugou would make direct eye contact with him after every incident.

Todoroki started mumbling beside him.

“What?” Kirishima figured there was no harm in trying with Todoroki.

Todoroki side-eyed him. “Bakugou’s showing off. This is going to be annoying to edit.”

Kirishima didn’t know what that meant. As far as he could tell Bakugou was acting like normal.

“Are you taking notes?” Midoriya asked. Bakugou had his head down over his small yellow notepad and Midoriya strained to see what it said. “When have you ever taken notes that doesn’t—Deku is a fucking idiot. That’s…that’s real funny. Are you proud of yourself?”

Bakugou wiggled his eyebrows cockily at the camera and made brief eye-contact with Kirishima again. He supposed Bakugou was acting a little goofier than usual, but Kirishima wouldn’t consider that showing off.

Todoroki groaned dramatically beside him, so he clearly disagreed. Bakugou listened to Midoriya explain the first two suspects and suddenly he slapped his hand over Midoriya’s mouth. Midoriya peeled Bakugou’s hand off and looked at him like he’d gone insane.

“What’s happen—”

“Deku, I’ve connected the fucking dots.”

Midoriya looked a cross between amused and angry. Kirishima had his hands covering his mouth and was keeping his laughter down by sheer willpower alone. He wouldn’t allow himself to ruin what he knew would become a historical moment.

“Kacchan, there is nothing for you to connect yet.”

“I’ve connected them,” Bakugou said. He went on to rattle off a theory connecting the first two suspects to the murder. Kirishima and Todoroki both glanced at each other confused by what was happening before them. Bakugou spoke with such confidence it was hard not to believe he’d just solved the case. Midoriya read through the paper in his hand, looking between it and Bakugou before throwing it behind his back exasperatedly.

“Yeah, that’s… that’s the second theory.”

Bakugou raised his hand for a high-five and Midoriya eyed it wearily. Bakugou didn’t even bother waiting before he high-fived himself.

There were only several minutes of recording left as Midoriya wrapped of the final theory, which was always the most ridiculous and would send Bakugou in a tizzy. He ranted for remaining time as Midoriya laughed, but once Bakugou calmed Midoriya ended their ride with his classic phrase, ‘for now the mystery remains unsolved’. Kirishima grinned giddily as the words left Midoriya’s mouth.

“Those guys were assholes,��� Bakugou said, stretching his arms as he stood from his chair.

“I mean they’re all murder suspects,” Deku said, propping his feet onto the wooden table. “Do you think that’s ever been someone’s last words to a murderer? You’re a fucking asshole?”

“Those would be my last words.”

Midoriya laughed getting up to help Todoroki look over the past forty minutes of footage. Bakugou walked straight up to Kirishima who was swinging his legs on the edge of the granite countertop.

“So, was it everything you dreamed it’d be?” Bakugou asked.

“That was amazing,” Kirishima hopped off the counter, accidentally landing a little too close to Bakugou. “You guys were so cool.”

Bakugou flushed with color and looked away from Kirishima’s sunshine smile. “It wasn’t anything special…”

“That’s uncharacteristically humble of you Kacchan,” Midoriya said, a teasing lilt to his voice. Bakugou flipped him the bird.

“Can we eat now? I am hungry.” Todoroki said placing the camera back onto the tripod.

“You’re getting food with us, right?” Midoriya asked Kirishima.

“I didn’t know you were getting food.”

“We always have a celebration meal after we record an episode. Kacchan was supposed to invite you.”

“Nobody fucking told me to—”

“Do I have to do everything,” Midoriya muttered under his breath. He grabbed Todoroki’s hand and led him toward the front door. “Shoto is going to help me take something to my car. We’ll be right back.”

“But we aren’t carrying anything,” Todoroki said. Midoriya didn’t respond and Todoroki shrugged helplessly to Bakugou as he let himself be dragged out his apartment. Bakugou and Kirishima were left staring at the door confused.

“That was…”

“Tactless.” Bakugou offered.

“I was going to say interesting, but yours works.”

“Obviously you’re invited to get food with us,” Bakugou said, avoiding eye contact by staring down at his plain black socks.

Kirishima nodded. “I figured.”

The moment Bakugou did look up Kirishima’s mind was erased of anything he’d planned to say. All he could think about was how intensely attractive his eyes were, how privileged he felt to be in that situation, and how he wished his heart would slow the fuck down because there’s no way Bakugou couldn’t hear it beating.

“I’m glad you were able to show up,” Bakugou admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, uh, I’m glad I got to see you again.” Kirishima didn’t miss the way Bakugou’s eyes briefly widened before he looked away.

“Sorry I never really texted you. We went to the middle of nowhere for four days, so I didn’t have cell service.”

“Middle of nowhere?” Kirishima asked.

“Yeah. We were hunting… bigfoot.”

Kirishima bit his lip to hold back another smile. Only he would find a guy who could use hunting bigfoot as a legitimate excuse for not texting him back. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not like I was depressed eating to Disney movies for three days straight or something.”

Bakugou eyed him suspiciously and Kirishima immediately started backpedaling.

“Besides, we aren’t dating or anything, so you don’t owe me any explanations,” Kirishima said, hoping he could deescalate the suspicion.

“Right. No. Yeah. We’re not… that.”

Kirishima realized he may have de-escalated too much when an ounce of hurt flickered across Bakugou’s face. That was bad. He needed to fix that. Kirishima racked his brain for ideas, but he could only come up with stupid plans. Kirishima noticed Bakugou’s face scrunch up like he was about to overthink something, and he took a deep breath. It was time to do something stupid.

“Not that I would hate if we were…” Kirishima said. “Dating or something.”

Bakugou’s cheeks tinted red and Kirishima hoped that was a good sign.

“Right,” Bakugou nodded. “That wouldn’t completely suck.”

Kirishima didn’t bother holding back the smile that broke out. “Well then maybe we should—"

“We’re back!” The front door swung open and Midoriya strutted into the living room. "Shoto and I were thinking about tacos if that works for you… two…”

Kirishima hadn’t noticed how close they were until Bakugou backed up an exaggerative distance. Kirishima didn’t anger easily, but at that moment if looks could kill Midoriya would’ve dropped on the spot.

“We’ll just wait in the hall,” Midoriya said, quickly pushing a confused Todoroki back out the door.

Bakugou had both his hands on his face and he looked at Kirishima through spread fingers. Kirishima gave him a half-grin and shrugged.

“Can we talk later?” Bakugou asked. “If Deku walks in one more time he’ll be the star of our next video.”

Kirishima felt his face burn. “Yeah. Later works.”

Bakugou nodded. “I have to… get shoes and stuff.”

He left Kirishima alone in the living room. Kirishima smacked his cheeks so the blush would be gone by the time he went into the hall. He had his hand on the brass doorknob when he spotted a whiteboard hanging beside the door.

It was a calendar whiteboard, the type you usually find in college apartments. It was color-coded based on each boy for chores, appointments, meal prep, rent, and bill payments, and other random reminders—Bakugou had one about picking Todoroki up from his dentist appointment. At the bottom left there were stick figures of Todoroki and Bakugou that looked to be drawn by the opposite. Kirishima had never seen something so wholesome and organized in his life. He knew that if his house tried to implement this it would go to shit in less than 12 hours.

The right side was more chaotic and had been invaded by Uraraka and Midoriya. Various things like fuck Deku, altered with a yes please beneath it; Uraraka is awesome, rewritten as Uraraka is stupid; Kacchan smells, a sloppy GOOD scribbled underneath; and Todoroki is a boss ass bitch, which was left alone. This was more like what anything at his home would resemble.

“I got it because half-and-half needed to learn how to be a functioning adult,” Bakugou said, sneaking up behind him. “Nobody takes my shit seriously.”

“Can I write on it?” Kirishima asked, already reaching for the red dry-erase marker. He found a clean spot in the bottom right and wrote ‘Kirishima was here’ with a shark-toothed smiley face.

Bakugou stared intensely at the spot then nodded. “Let’s go.”

The moment they entered the hall Midoriya apologized which started an argument between him and Bakugou. Kirishima tried seeking help in Todoroki as the two trailed behind them, but it appeared Todoroki still wanted nothing to do with him. Kirishima hoped he’d be able to fix whatever was going on because Todoroki seemed like a big part of Bakugou’s life. Mina always told Kirishima that befriending people was his hidden superpower, so he would just have to hope that he’d be able to ware Todoroki down. Kirishima wanted to be a part of Bakugou’s life, and that meant getting along with the people who were in it.

Bakugou aggressively punched the down button for the elevator while informing Midoriya his poor taste in movies made his every opinion irrelevant. When the doors slid open Todoroki shoulder checked him while walking past and Bakugou paused his fight with Midoriya as if thrown off by Todoroki’s actions. Kirishima guessed it really was just something about him then wasn’t it. The two appeared to be having some sort of telepathic conversation now and Kirishima just leaned against the cool metal of the elevator’s wall.

Don’t get him wrong. Kirishima was thrilled to be hanging out with everyone but…

He hoped later wouldn’t be too far away.

[a-tragedy-told-in-metals]

A Tragedy Told In Metals: Copper & Arsenic

Chapter: 1 link AO3

Playlist (Youtube) Playlist (Spotify) Songs 1-3 apply to this chapter

CW: chronic illness, mild injuries, past abuse

[I’m just jumping to posting in real-time w/ my AO3]

Toni drummed her fingers on her desk watching the chemical formulas for different filaments swirling in front of her eyes. And then what she was almost positive would happen, happened: a red marker reading “failure” blinked in front of her. She dropped her sweaty head on the cool surface of her desk.

“We can keep trying,” JARVIS said.

“Yeah,” Toni muttered.

The formulas, graphs and test results continued to mock her from the screen and Toni sighed. She felt tired but grabbed the stupid chlorophyll shake and downed it. The disgusting drinks were meant to slow the poison. She was going through the motions,  pretending this wasn’t as bad as it was. Just pushing through, she wasn’t dying, absolutely not. Except she was and had been since, well, probably since forever, but this particular threat had started the day she survived. It was horribly ironic that the stupid glowing light in her chest, which had saved her life, was now slowly killing her.

That level of irony was honestly funny but she was laughed out. Now it just left a bitter taste in her mouth along with the smoothie. Toni ran her hands along the hardened veins on her chest. The brittle feeling made her feel slightly ill, but that might just be part of the constant nausea she was going through.

Toni was really only going through the motions now. She had already finished writing her will The money was split four ways between charity, Rhodey, Happy and Pepper. Stark Industries went to Pepper. Rhodey got the suits, JARVIS’s mainframe and the Bots. Happy had his choice of cars. Properties, expensive stuff she had and shares of SI would just be split between her friends. Rhodey’s family also got some shares of the company to set them up past the cash Rhodey had.

Toni had it all planned out, it wasn’t guess work. The business had to go to Pepper, she was the only one Toni trusted to not turn Stark Industries back into a weapons company. Rhodey was the only person she would trust in a million years to take care of the Bots and JARVIS with the love they deserve, and, well, he did get the suits; he was the only one who could figure out how to use them if necessary.

“Toni!” Pepper said walking into the lab, her high heels clipping along the floor.

“Yes, Pep?” Toni re-buttoned the top button on her shirt before she spun to face Pepper.

“You returned these forms to me.” Pepper brought up a form on her Stark pad.

“Yeah I did, my signature is there and everything,” Toni replied pointing at the screen

“You signed this page, and the last one but there were a bunch of signature lines between them.”

“Oh,” Toni said with a sigh.

“This is like the fifth time you've done something like this. All of your work is like you’re trying to do it in your sleep.”

“I’m really not Pepper I’m just, ya know, tired. I’ve been busy with SI, and the Iron Queen and just like sleeping and life things.”

Peppers deep suck of breath at the words ‘Iron Queen’ did not go missed by Toni who directed her eyes away from the other woman.

“Well, you can’t leave me to do everything just because you want to fly around in your metal toys. It’s your company and half-done work, late reports,  and missed meetings just aren’t fair to everyone else.”

“They aren’t toys. None of this is a game!” Toni shot back.

“Nor is your company! At least not to me, you’re the CEO and no one else is here to do your work for you anymore.”

Toni ground her teeth together as an image of the men who had run the company before filled her mind for a moment. She breathed out, steadying the immediate way her hands shook just thinking about them.

“I know that, okay? I do.”

Pepper sat heavily into the couch and looked to the side, her fingers resting on her lips. She shook her head softly, “I know you’ve been through a lot lately and all. But I’m being the CEO right now.”

A switched flipped into Toni’s head. Why not make Pepper CEO? It was her plan after she died anyway.  Toni looked up, “Why aren’t you?”

“What?”

Toni stood up, she grabbed a long piece of scrap metal from her table.

“Ta’ da you’re the new Stark Industries CEO” Toni mimed knighting her.

“Haha, this is important Toni,” Pepper said sliding the scrap from her shoulder.

“I thought we established we weren’t joking tonight.”

“Are you serious?”

“Deathly.”

“Well umm, I think we should have the actual paperwork done up.”

“Sure, yeah, we can do that.” Toni nodded.

“Toni,” Pepper said in that “I’m about to say or ask you something you don’t want to answer” tone of voice.

“Yeah?” Toni replied exhausted

“I’m still going to need you to do some work though. You still own Stark Industries, and I assume you will want to continue working on product development.”

“Yeah, I know that. But now you don’t have to do two jobs anymore. You’re the only person I would ever trust with SI anyway. You’re better for the job anyway; you have the degree, the attention span and people skills.”

“Thanks, Toni. Can you still sign this though?” Pepper pointed to the tablet on the table.

“Sure, right.”

~~~~~

Toni was laying on her couch with ice on her knee, shoulder and head all at once. A particularly bad day of “Iron-Queening” had left her feeling really banged up. Everything hurt, but Toni almost didn’t mind. She was used to being in pain and destroying the Stark weapons cache was something worth getting hurt for anyway. Plus, she actually remembered how she got these injuries, which was cool.

“Ms. Toni, Ms. Potts  and an unknown woman are at the door.”

“She armed or suspicious or anything?” Toni said sitting up slowly.

“Not on first scan.”

“Alright let them in.”

Toni sat all the way up and kicked an empty beer bottle under the couch and blinked till her vision cleared up. Pepper was trailed by a woman around her age with bright red hair and light skin.

“Toni, how are you?” Pepper asked.

“Peachy, all these ice packs are for fun!” Toni snarked.

Pepper sighed and rolled her eyes, “JARVIS and the legal department drew up the papers to change Stark industry’s CEO.”

“That's good, but who is she?” Toni pointed to the new lady.

“This is Natalie Rushman. She is going to be your new PA.”

“You're CEO shouldn’t you have one?”

“Oh I will I’m still looking for one suitable. I think you need one or you will never get anything done on time.”

“Hey, JARVIS reminds me of stuff.”

“JARVIS is soft on you.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Yes he is. He's almost as bad as Rhodey.”

Toni sighed.

Natalie walked forward and tried to hand Toni what she assumed were the papers from the legal team. But even if she rationally knew what it was she still flinched back.

“I don’t like being handed things.” Toni explained, “Can you put it on the table?”

“Oh. Yes ma'am,” Natalie said placing it down.

“Oh yuck, just call me Toni. We’re like the same age.” Toni leaned forward and signed the papers, and smiled at Pepper. “Now you're the boss.”

“I’m the boss?” She said returning Toni’s smile, which much to Toni’s annoyance made her stomach swoop. Apparently, that crush she had was not going away and it was really frustrating.

“Yup. Can you stay for dinner?”

“What are you ordering?”

“Actually I’m trying to learn to cook. So I'll make some Pasta. Apparently, cooking is a good skill to reintegrate into life, connecting with the body something, something.” Toni waved her hand as she walked stiffly into the kitchen.

“JARVIS better make sure you don’t burn the water,” Pepper said

Toni shook her head. It was quick work to make spaghetti, not something hard to do. Having Pepper with her made it more enjoyable, though. While Toni was working on making the pasta, she watched Natalie from the corner of her eyes. Something was off with her. Even with a permanently distracted state of mind, Toni could clock signs of Natalie not being what she seemed.

She was really stiff, unnaturally, so. Most people would be really fidgety when in a new place. She didn’t look uncomfortable, per se, and she wasn't so comfortable that it seemed like she had no emotions at all. Natalie just seemed...chill. Toni decided to test Natalie. Was it nice? Probably not, but she needed to figure out what was going on.

“So, Natalie, where are you from?” Toni asked.

“Ashland Oregon.”

“I’ve only been to Portland. Do you have any siblings?”

“No, I’m an only child like you. I’m not really close to my family.”

“That sucks. But friends are so much better than family, if your family’s shit.”

“I just moved here so I’m not close with anyone yet.”

“Well this is kind of a crazy place to meet people but the parties are still really fun.”

“Ah, partying hasn’t been my thing recently.”

“Recently? So was there a time it was?”

“Well, I had a bit of wild stage in high school and college. But I got my head back on straight at the end of college. I had to make sure to get good enough grades in class to get a job like this. ”

“What was your poison of choice?”

“Rum, weed the usual stuff”

Toni traced her eyes over Natalie, there hadn’t been enough pause, hadn’t been enough shame. She did smile, though, and lean into the table. Gave Toni a bright smile. It was charming, and she was for sure hot, but Toni knew fake people, had lived with them.

After eating Toni sucked in a large breath. It was time to enact the next part of her plan.

“Hey, can I show you something in the lab?” Toni asked.

“Sure. Visiting the lab is always a mix of cool and a disaster” Pepper said, turning to Natalie who shrugged and slid off the chair.

Down in the lab, Toni sat in her chair glanced behind her. Both women were watching her expectantly. Toni clicked on the keyboard and the design for her next Stark Pad came up.

“In between my Iron Queen life and having to go to your meetings I actually finished this design.” Pepper walked forward and slid through the specs on the screen. While Pepper was looking away, Toni kicked her foot under the table and caused a pile of stacked up raw material and tools crash to the ground. Pepper jumped and yelped like any normal person should. Toni watched Natalie closely as the redhead also quietly jumped, and then quickly assumed a fighting stance. Natalie’s eyes snapped around the whole room, not to the site of the crash.  Yeah, she wasn’t someone ex-party girl PA.

Great, someone was in her house who was lying to her about, well, maybe about everything. Why did people keep making her life so fucking complicated?

[pandoraborn]

I’ve been debating writing this for a few months now because of how bad it is, but I’m going to post this under a read more. I feel like this is important to my egos’ backstory, and offers more of an explanation into Chase’s and Stacy’s marriage that we haven’t see before.

TW: Divorce, suicide attempt, domestic fighting, shades of verbal/emotional abuse.

----

“If you step one foot out that door, don’t you dare come back! I’m not living in this fucking sham of a marriage anymore!”

“Fine! I don’t need to stay here and listen to you threaten fookin’ divorce every time something doesn’t go your way. God forbid I live my own life!”

“You’re an asshole, Chase! I can’t stand this sham of a marriage!”

“Yeah? Well I can’t fookin’ stand you!”

~~

The argument keeps replaying in Jackie’s mind as he stares at the CD Jack’s holding. A quick glance over at Marvin tells Jackie that Marvin’s recalling that same argument. None of the three are certain this is a good idea, but Jack’s turning toward the television set anyway.

“People are going to find out,” Jack says, after several minutes of silence. He taps the camera uncertainly, eyes flicking back and forth between the other two. “They’re going to want an explanation.”

“...you haven’t even properly introduced him yet,” Marvin points out. “That’s not...exactly a way to introduce a new ego.”

“Not new,” Jackie mutters under his breath. “He’s been around for awhile, Jack’s fans just haven’t caught up to him yet. I’m with Marvin though, that’s...how are you going to explain what happened? They’re going to want something fun.”

“I want to watch this first,” Jack says quietly. “I want to know what his...”

“I still can’t believe he recorded it,” Marvin says quietly. With trembling fingers, he takes the CD from Jack’s hands, shoving it into the DVD player. “Let’s watch it once, okay?”

The other two murmur in reluctant agreement as Marvin finally hits ‘play.’

The scene starts off normally enough. It’s Chase, sitting in his office, drinking what looks to be a third bottle of beer. It’s hard to discern just from this imagery if he’s drunk or just upset, but it’s clear he’s angry. Chase is visibly shaking, glaring at his desk.

It’s almost a full minute before Chase gets up, finally deciding to speak. He moves closer to the camera, staring at it with tears in his eyes. “Stacy.” His voice is broken, helpless.

“Stacy, how could you do this to me? I thought we had something special. We have kids! They need both of us.” Chase lets out a sob, crying into the crook of his elbow for another minute. 

Jackie leans back in his chair, more than uncomfortable with this footage already. He’d never seen Chase so broken down. It makes him wonder just how long Chase and Stacy had been arguing for.

When Chase is done crying, he reaches for the camera. For a second it looks like he’s going to turn it off, but instead, Chase lets out a cry of frustration and smacks it to the ground.

“I did everything for you, you bitch! I brought home money for you, I did the cooking and the cleaning, I got our kids ready for school so you could sleep in! You always had a problem with me having some fun, and you know it!”

He storms around his office, kicking at the walls, kicking his chair over, and finally, reaching into his desk to pull out another beer.

He’s definitely drunk.

“Cheers, though. You’ve been threatening me with divorce for a long time now. Every time I step one foot out of line, it’s an ultimatum to obey you or file for divorce. You’re right though, I’m a shite husband. I spend too much time at work, too much time at bars drinking, ignoring your needs for sex. I admit it, I’m terrible. We both know I’m an arse, so why did you marry me to begin with? Couldn’t have married Marvin or Jackie, what with how perfect they are. God damn bastards, with their stupid charm and looks. I hate you and I hate them.”

Marvin and Jackie both wince at that. How long had Chase been harboring resentment toward them? What else had he kept hidden from everyone? It’s hard enough watching this tape, it’s even harder knowing that the friend they both love and care for deeply despises them. 

Chase downs half the bottle within seconds, then chucks the rest against the wall. He looks like he wants to say something else, but instead he’s pulling his phone out and dialing a number.

“Stacy, hi...no I’m not drunk. I just want to talk...I just wanna come back home. Baby I didn’t mean it, I wanna get better....what do you mean you’re leaving? You can’t take my fucking kids!....I’M THEIR FATHER!...screw you and your sister, I hope you all die in a fire.” 

He hangs up and slams his phone into the desk, swearing loudly and pacing around the office for several minutes in a drunken rage. It’s when he pulls out a pistol from his suitcase that Marvin jerks violently, turning his head away from the screen. 

“Please stop this,” Marvin says shakily. “I don’t want to see the rest.”

“Stacy I love you, please don’t go.”

Jack pauses the video right as Chase presses the gun to his temple. The expression on Chase’s face is pure anguish, with tears streaming down his face, and a forced, terrifying grin on his face. It’s an image that none of the three watching will ever forget, ever.

Jack sucks in a deep breath through his teeth. “I know how to introduce Chase,” he says softly.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” Jackie snarls. “You’re going to make fun of him, why?” He’s ready to launch himself from his seat as Jack pulls the CD out, snapping it in half.

“I have to,” Jack says softly, handing the broken CD over. “People need to know what kind of personality he has. It worked for you two, didn’t it?”

“You’re an asshole, Jack,” Marvin snaps. “You’d better think long and hard about this, because once it’s up on youtube, there’s no coming back from it. People are gonna treat this -and him- like a joke. Your people.”

“Or they’ll come to love him,” Jack replies, keeping his voice calm. “Everyone wants someone to sympathize with, and...” He nods toward the CD Jackie’s holding. “we can’t exactly show this to the public.”

“This had better have been the only copy,” Jackie whispers. “We’re not even telling Stacy about this. She’s miserable enough with Chase still in...you know.”

“No,” Jack says. “This stays between the three of us. My video of Chase stays between the three of us. We tell no one about what we saw just now, got it?” 

“Got it,” the other two say simultaneously. Jackie looks down at the CD he’s holding, then hands it to Marvin. 

“Marvin, you’re the one with magic here. You’d better destroy this.”

Marvin grimaces as he takes it. “I’m going home,” he says. “I don’t care what you two do, but I need a nap before I go visit Chase again. His sisters are coming to town to see him, and I wanna try to be civil.” He burns the pieces though, letting the ash fall away from his hands. 

“Not even Chase will ever know what we saw,” Marvin adds. “This is our secret.”