#you know i might try that anyway i double checked my schedule and its only three days | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miekasa · 4 years ago

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the babysitter’s club (1)

+ pairing: levi ackerman + (fem) reader, featuring bright-eyed but very easily intimidated interns and part-time babysitters eren and armin who are trying their best

+ genres and warnings: modern au, parents au, fluff, yes the dog’s name is captain and he’s tiny what about it

+ summary: eren and armin are good subordinates, who happen to be pretty good babysitter, too. usually.

+ word count: 2.7k

+ notes: this was just something fun i edited and reworked again, also to provide some more insight about dad levi and my oc kids; this focuses only on holden, who is the oldest of the bunch, but you’ll more about the rest as they go

It’s not that Levi doesn’t trust Holden’s babysitters, he just would rather watch over her himself. Moreover, he would rather have the time to spend with his small daughter instead of having to leave her in the care of someone else who isn’t you, but sometimes life gets busy, and babysitters come in real handy.

He still doesn’t understand why Erwin would schedule the both of you to attend such important work-related meetings on the same weekend; much less, to send you half-way around the world for yours, and then book Levi for damn near twelve hours on a Saturday. He would murder Erwin if he weren’t his direct boss, and a long-time friend. But shit happens, and while it’s a major inconvenience and pain in his ass to be working on a weekend, it’s good to know he could rely on the brats at the office to step up on such short notice.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that if anything happens, I won’t hesitate to dismember you,” Levi says calmly, closing his briefcase after triple-checking its contents.

“Of course,” Armin stiffens visibly, awkward laughter seeping through his words, “Eren and I would never let anything happen to Holden.”

To his left, Holden has already tugged Eren to the coffee table for a game of children’s Scrabble, determined to show off her new skills. Levi smiles slightly as he remembers playing the game with her last week, and how awe-struck she was to have seen Levi create a word bigger than “unattainable”—which is currently the longest word in her four-year-old vocabulary. But he’s certain she would have no trouble beating Eren.

He gives Armin a slight nod. He knows Holden is in good hands; or good enough hands with Armin, anyway. It’s not the first time the duo has babysat, and for as air-headed and clumsy Eren could be at the office, he seemed to be pretty damn good with kids if Holden’s attachment to the brunette was anything to go by.

Levi recounts that you’ve questioned on multiple occasions why Eren was so dedicated to being your PA when he seemed to have a potential career in taking care of, and maybe even teaching children. Not that he’s not a good assistant to you, but he’s certainly not as organized or detailed-oriented as Armin. Levi shrugs away the thought. Eren’s career choices are none of his business; his only concern is that he keeps his daughter safe and sound.

“Right. My card is on the kitchen island, you can buy lunch and dinner or whatever, I don’t think there’s much in the fridge,” Levi informs Armin. He looks briefly to the clock on the wall; he really should get going. “Remember to walk Captain at some point, and no matter what Holden says, he absolutely does need a leash on him. If Erwin isn’t being a complete asshat, I’ll be home by nine. (Y/N) will probably still be on her flight, so call me if you need anything.”

Armin nods enthusiastically, promising Levi that they would take care of everything. They’d better.

“Alright, I’m heading out,” Levi announces, pulling his keys from the table near the door, “Be good, Holden. Tell Armin and Eren if you need anything.”

Holden’s head perks up at the sound of her name. Elegantly, or as elegantly as a four-year-old can be, she stands from her seated crisscross position, to run over to Levi by the door. He should remind her that she should use walking feet inside the house, but he can’t bring himself to, instead crouching down to meet her height.

“Bye, daddy,” she tells him sweetly. Levi reaches a hand out to ruffle the top of her head, much to the small girl’s chagrin. She sports a grimace almost identical to his as he reaches up to try and smooth out the aftermath of her father’s affections, “Daddy!”

Levi can’t help but chuckle, reaching two fingers out to poke at his daughter’s forehead. “Be good. I’ll be back soon.”

“Mommy too?”

Levi sighs, “No, mommy doesn’t come back until Tuesday.”

“That’s four days away,” Holden’s doesn’t hesitate to express her dissatisfaction. Levi nods, a little proud of how quickly she’d calculated that in her head, “Can Eren stay until Tuesday?”

“No, Eren cannot.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Holden crinkles her nose. Levi really has got to do something about her fascination with Eren.

Holden looks backwards to where Eren is still seated around the coffee table, he and Armin watching the father-daughter duo. After reconciling with the fact that Eren does, in fact, have his own home to go back to at the end of the day, Holden turns back around, and holds her hand up, palm facing Levi. He does the same, bringing his larger palm to hers, so that her hand is pushed against the middle of his.

Not one for hugs, kisses, or larger displays of affection, Holden simply turns her palm so that her hand grabs around Levi’s as best as possible, hooking her thumb around his pinky finger—what Levi’s heard the young girl call a hand hug.

“Bye, daddy,” she repeats, squeezing his hand, “Come back soon.”

Levi bends his fingers to wrap around her hand, “I will.”

“Keep an eye on her,” Levi reminds Armin and Eren, after standing back up and gripping his briefcase in his hand, “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

“Holden never causes trouble,” Eren says in response, but his words are spoken in coos to the young girl, who’s already back at his side.

Levi scoffs, “I was talking to you.”

“We’ll be fine, boss, don’t worry,” Eren chuckles with an awkward blush, “We love looking after Holden.”

“I’m not your boss,” Levi deadpans, double-checking his pockets for his keys, “You’d better hope everything is fine. Call me if anything happens, I’ll be back soon.”

With one final round of good-byes, and a wave from his daughter, Levi’s out the door, and stepping into his car with a grimace. It was just one stupid day out of his life. Besides, Holden would be fine with Armin and Eren; she always is. Levi is just grumpy that he can’t be the one to spend the day with her.

He sighs, reluctantly, putting his keys in the ignition. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could come back to Holden. Everything would be fine in the meantime; for now, he had to focus on how he was going to get himself to sit through Erwin’s long-ass meeting.

“Levi! Hi! Um… okay, so don’t freak out, but Armin and I are at the hospital with Holden right now—don’t freak out—because there was a small incident at lunch—don’t freak out and fire me please—but! It’s all gonna be okay, they’re already treating her and she’s doing fine now, so don’t freak—”

“Tell me not to freak out one more fucking time and I’ll castrate Armin and feed you his balls myself.”

“You sound a little freaked out,” Eren placates, wincing and holding his phone away from his ear when Levi growls in response.

“You have five seconds to tell me what you two idiots did to my daughter and explain why I shouldn’t decapitate you immediately.”

“It’s a funny story, actually—so, um, we think Holden might be allergic to nuts…?”

“What do you mean might be, Jaeger?”

Eren can feel his heart in his throat. He eyes Armin on the other side of Holden’s hospital bed. He looks no better—color almost completely drained from his face, but Eren doesn’t think he can say much else to his boss before his knees give out from underneath him.

“Uh, well, it was a lot of technical terms, and—I—um, actually I’m going to let Armin explain!” Eren hurries, all but chucking his phone at the unsuspecting blonde.

Armin’s blue eyes look almost grey with anxiety, but before he can protest, Eren is flailing his hands and pointing fingers and reminding him that Levi will kill them both if he doesn’t start talking.

Reluctant, and terrified, Armin finally lifts the phone to his ear, stuttering out a pathetic hello, but Levi cuts him off before he can say anything else.

“Save it. Send me your location, and pray I don’t kill you when I get there.” Armin chokes out a “yes, sir,” before slowly bringing the phone down to his side.

The good news is that Holden’s allergic reaction wasn’t too severe: her throat had been irritated, and hives had emerged as a result, but it hadn’t been closing up. And luckily, Eren had the endurance to run nearly a mile and half with a four year old tucked under his arm; because with the traffic Armin observed whilst he and Captain huffed and lagged behind, it would have taken thrice as long to get Holden to the ER had they waited and called for an ambulance.

Even better was that Holden was an unnervingly calm kid, even whilst having an allergic reaction. She looked almost back to normal now, save for a few red looking blotches on her neck and upper arm; and seemed more than content to be watching a video on Eren’s phone, despite the situation. She was a little bummed out to find out that she could never eat the new ice cream she liked so much ever again, but she seemed to quickly get over it once Eren reminded her that there were lots of other flavors out there for her to try. Flavors that wouldn’t make her choke to death.

Still, Eren and Armin could probably kiss their jobs goodbye, seeing as they had nearly just poisoned their bosses’ daughter. Holden seemed to like them enough, but, unfortunately, Holden wasn’t the Ackerman who signed their checks.

At the very least, Eren doesn’t think you’ll be too upset with him. He doesn’t think you’ll be ecstatic to hear that while you were away on your already inconvenient work-trip on the other side of the globe, that he also managed to land your daughter in a hospital bed… but you were the more forgiving one. Then again, maybe not so forgiving when it comes to the health and wellbeing of your daughter.

Eren falls back against the wall in dread. You weren’t even in the same country as him and he was worried about what you might say or do to him. Levi was probably less than twenty minutes away and fully capable of beheading him.

“You… uh, you think the Interior Branch is still looking for interns?” Eren breaks the silence, looking towards Armin, who’s taken the seat next to Holden’s bed, petting Captain robotically as the dog sits in his lap.

“I don’t think it matters,” Armin responds, “They won’t hire corpses.”

Fifteen minutes, and several run red lights later, Levi is bursting through the doors to the pediatric wing of the emergency room. He doesn’t care about the old woman at the reception yelling at him for causing a ruckus, or the other parents, doctors, or visitors eyeing him for marching around like he owned the place. Holden was in there somewhere, and he was going to get to her.

“Holden—oh, god, Holden,” Levi coos, frantic, as he marches into Holden’s room, scurrying to the side of her hospital bed. A cold hand reaches up to stroke her face. Angry, red bumps litter the sides of neck, her cheeks are puffier than usual, and the perimeter of her mouth seems a bit irritated, but Levi is relieved. She’s okay, his baby girl is okay.

“’M fine, daddy,” Holden assures him. She’s almost overly-perceptive for her age, able to pick up on her father’s out of character antics, and does her best to console him. “Eren ran with me all the way here when I started coughing and itchin.’”

Levi nods, the dark grey splotches in Holden’s eyes bringing him comfort, ensuring him that she was okay. “They gave me a shot, and I don’t like needles, but I didn’t even cry at all. Ask, Armin and Eren, they saw! Captain, too.”

“Brave girl,” Levi smiles, reaching his hand up to push her hair out of her face then leans over to press a kiss to her forehead.

Levi had almost forgotten that Eren and Armin were in the room until he hears a blundering cough from behind him. The younger boys look petrified, Eren practically shaking in his shoes, while Armin doesn’t even have the confidence to look him in the eye.

“We’re really sorry, Levi,” Eren apologizes, voice scratchy and wobbly, like he’d been the one to just get a shot, “We didn’t know—and when she started coughing and saying she couldn’t breathe, I swear, I ran here as fast as I could—”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s… fine?”

Levi sighs. Maybe he’d been a little harsh with them on the phone, letting his emotions get the best of him. He’d already been pissed off enough to not have the time to spend with Holden this weekend; hearing that she’d been hurt was just the final push over the edge for him, but it wasn’t necessarily Armin or Eren’s fault.

“I didn’t know either,” Levi exhales, reaching at hand out to pet the top of Holden’s head again, the young girl now distracted once again by the phone in her hand, “She’s never had a reaction to anything before, and neither (Y/N) or I have any strong allergies.”

Armin shuffles where he’s standing. “The doctor said she might be allergic to tree nuts. We, uh, we gave her pistachio ice cream after lunch.”

If there’s anything concerning Levi, it’s that they gave Holden ice cream before dinner, but he supposes he can let it go for now.

“Eren told me to try it, and it tasted good, daddy,” Holden interjects, “Before I started coughing, it was good.”

“Ah, well, you can’t—you shouldn’t eat things that make you feel sick!” Eren stutters loudly.

“But it was good,” Holden pouts, “And you said to try new things, Eri. I won’t know if it makes me sick if I don’t try them.”

Levi holds back his laughter. He knows that Holden definitely wouldn’t want to try the same same flavor again knowing now that she was allergic to it; she was just pulling at Eren’s leg. Levi would have to keep an eye out for the stuff anyway, especially if her oh-so-precious Eren has expressed any former love for it.

“Um, Levi, sir,” Armin calls, pulling Levi’s attention towards the blonde, “We didn’t know if (Y/N) would have landed already, but do you think you should call her, to, um, let her know?”

Levi’s face pales three shades when he realizes that none of them had already informed you that your daughter was currently hospitalized with a new found allergy.

“You can call her,” Levi says, a shudder in his spine at the thought of relaying this information to you, “That’s your death sentence, not mine.”

#aot x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman smut #eren x reader #aot fluff

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raggaraddy · 4 years ago

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Sugar Daddy turned sour

Request: Hi!!!! read all of ur works its all amazing cant believe ur new.. can i request for a yan sugar daddy taehyung x reader x yan sugar daddy jungkook. they found out that that y/n have 2 sugar daddies and they lost their sanity(as if they even have that)...Thank u and YOU GOOD,KEEP GOING💜💞💞💞💞😘😁

A/N: I don't know how to post a reply to a personal message yet because I am new and Tumblr deficient 😅 But I hope you like the scenario ^-^ thanks for the request 💜

Here for Part 2

Summary: Juggling two guys and getting everything you want from them has always been easy for you, and Taehyung and Jungkook are no exception. Or so you thought.

Trigger warnings: Mentions of non-con, assault, cheating, violence.

Yandere! Taehyung

Yandere! Jungkook

Sunday. Taehyungs day.

You open your webcam, checking your eyeliner quickly in the startup view as you wait for the Tae to pick up on the other side. He pops up quickly a beaming smile filling his face.

“Y/n! Baby, I’ve missed you.” He’s radiant. As happy and as bubbly he always is.

You go along listening to him excitedly run through his past few days, telling you everything in excruciating detail as he jumps from one half-finished thought to another. He may be an adult but he certainly has a young soul. The whole while you feign attention, your fingers continually fidgeting with the diamond necklace or the matching bracelet he had sent you a few weeks back.

“How was your weekend?” He finally gets around to asking.

“Not so good. I always have to work so much," You complain, batting your eyes at the camera.

“You could always quit and come live with me.” He jokes-but not really. It’s a topic he has raised 3 times already. And you have the same answer ready as always.

“Daddy, you know I’m a strong and independent woman. I could never let someone else pay for me.” You pout, running your tongue over your lower lip while pushing your chest up a little to draw attention. “It’s just my rent is so expensive. I feel like I work just to pay the bills.”

In truth, your rent is already being covered by someone else. But he doesn’t need to know that.

While you continue to run through the fabricated details of your weekend, Taehyung is distracted, looking down at his phone. You know what's happening. It’s like a game. And you’re winning. Your banking app sends a notification, letting you know that K. Taehyung has just sent you a payment.

You open it up. Yep. That's rent for the month. Or more, money for that new TV you wanted.

“Oh! Daddy, noo.” You whine down the camera. “You can’t. I am okay. Really. Please don’t spend your money on me.” You frown if only to stop the smile that is fighting to fill your face.

“I want to baby. I have the money, and I just want you to be happy. Don’t stress about bills okay. I’m here.”

Sometimes, it’s almost too easy.

“Okay Daddy, if you insist.”

Tuesday. Jungkooks day.

With Jungkook it’s a much more straightforward transaction. He has said he wants to pay for you and he hates the back and forth pretences. He just wants you to say thank you, smile pretty, and give him all your attention.

“Do you need anything more for the week?” He asks through the camera.

“No Daddy, you take such good care of me. Thank you.” You smile.

“You still have the weekend of the 14th off?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively. Off-screen you quickly scan through your calendar.

14th, 15th and 16th: Jk weekend.

Hmm, that came up quicker than you expected. You try to keep your booty calls with them as far apart as possible.

“Of course, I’m so excited! I haven’t seen you in weeks.” You say, it been less than 100% truthful.

“Months.” He corrects with a surreptitious undertone.

“Where are we staying this time?”

You always insist to stay in hotels. Because ‘your apartment feels too busy and mundane, and you want the time you spend with him to be magical and undistracted’. Honestly, you just don’t want him, either of them, in your personal space. You purposefully chose boys who live a few hours away. It’s hard enough to keep them separated in your everyday life with them being far away. It could only get messy for them to know where you live and how to reach you in person.

You’ve certainly gotten smart at this. Arranging the two men into different days of the week, scheduling them into your calendar to keep them apart and unaware of the other. Both had specifically said very early on that they do not want to share you with anyone else. And that you were all theirs. And while both of them seemed to trust you, you knew their reactions would be unpleasant, to say the least, if they found out about the other.

Sugar Daddies can be so possessive.

But while both these men are very handsome, money is better and more reliable than boys. And if they are stupid enough to spend it all on you, why should you care.

The week passes quickly and it’s the 14th. Once more you find yourself in the lobby of a 5-star hotel. Jungkook arrived in town early and sent you a message with the room number.

Time to actually work for your money.

You knock on the door only to find it slightly open. Entering there is a trail of rose petals lining the floor leading into the suite. All the lights are dimmed with a warmth of candlelight filling the room. This is so typically Jungkook. Pulling out all the stops to try to impress.

Dropping your bag at the entrance, you close the door behind you and explore inwards.

“Daddy?” You call out in a singsong voice. Your heels clack on the tiled floor as you round the corner into the living room. Jungkook is sitting on the lounge, one leg crossed over the other, arms rested up over the back. You smile at seeing him. You always seem to forget just how stunning he is in person.

“Which one of us are you referring to?” A deep voice startles you from behind. You jolt, spinning to see Taehyung standing behind you leaning against the wall.

Holy fuck.

Your mind starts to jumble through what is happening. Thinking about what it was that might have given you away. Evaluating how much they may know. And planning your next move.

Damn it. You doubt you’ll be able to smooth talk your way out of this with Jungkook. He’s too direct and absolute. So you’ll just have to accept that that relationship is over. However, you might be able to salvage this situation with Taehyung if you play your cards right. Being defensive should do the trick.

“What is this?” You snap, keeping focused on Taehyung. “This is such a violation of my privacy! You keep smothering me Taehyung! See this is why I tried to find someone else to hang out with.” You stomp your foot. He would always wrap around your finger so quickly with the little girl act.

“Ha!” He blurts out a short laugh in contradiction to how you expected him to react. “Wow. No, go on. I want to see where this is going.”

“Do you think we only just found out about each other?” Jungkook pipes up, coming from the couch.

You sigh. You had almost saved enough for a holiday to the Maldives too. But they seem to know too much. Fine. You can burn both relationships. They were starting to get too clingy anyway. “Whatever.” You roll your eyes. You got all you could from them. Time to move on to the next.

As you shrug them off, Taehyung steps into the path of the front door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Both he and Jungkook start to close in tighter. There is a cold tone to his words. Something far too close to a threat for your comfort. Even in heels, both men naturally stand taller than you which usually wouldn’t bother you. But with an unsteadiness to your footing and a very short dress on, in a dark room with two men you have used and spurned, you are feeling even more vulnerable than you feel you should.

“Move.” You order.

A smirk on his lips, Taehyung lifts his hand up and backhands you, knocking you back a few stumbled steps. You gasp, your hand clinging to your cheek, eyes wide in shock. He starts forward, Jungkook intervening, standing between the two of you.

You can not believe he just hit you! He has never done anything like that before.

“No, don’t do that.” He stops Taehyung as he starts to swing again. Shaking all over, you’re relieved that one of them is seeing sense. You take the outstretched hand of Jungkook, lip trembling from the burn on your cheek. He draws you closer and you wrap into him for protection. In the same motion, his free hand swings down punching you in the stomach, doubling you over, dropping you to the floor. “If you hit her head, she might get spaced out. I want her to feel this.”

His words send a chill down your spine. This can not be happening.

“Are you crazy!” You gape, trying to speak while gulping down air. Your head is dizzy, your lungs burning. Kicking off your heels for better movement, you climb back up to your feet not wanting to engage either man. Eyes focused you look past Taehyung to the door, storming forward. “I’m leaving. We’ll forget all of this, okay.” You bargain through short, panicked breath.

Taehyungs large hand slams you into the wall, pressing his palm against your shoulder. He follows Jungkooks lead, pounding his fist into your gut. And then again. And again. His hold removes letting you free and you plummet to the ground, crying within broken huffs while cradling your battered torso.

“You’re right. That is better.” He laughs at Jungkook.

“Stop!” You beg, unable to raise your voice above a soft yelp.

“What's wrong baby? You wanted two men. Now you have them.” Taehyungs bright smile returns to his face. This time with an entirely different meaning than it had ever had until it shifts into a straight, harsh look that you have never seen from him. “Didn't you always say you wished there was some way you could repay me?”

“You said that to me too.” Jungkook joins his side, both hovering above you, trapping you between them, the wall, and the floor.

Leaning down Jungkooks hand follows you as you squirm away from him. His fingers wrapped around your throat and lift you up, keeping you against the wall. He takes advantage of you being stuck, leaning into you pressing his lips to yours as you resist as much as you can.

“Baby, you’re going to pay us back for every dollar we spent on you.” He snarls.

Taehyung turns your face to him, also forcing a kiss on you. “Don’t worry, Y/n, you’ll see that we know how to share.”

Part 2

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook #yandere taehyung #sugadaddy #cheating #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts #yandere #yandere bangtan #taekook #bts reactions #bangtan reactions #jungkook #taehyung

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chasingpj · 4 years ago

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𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐳𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬

"I might spread a rumor about you and Percy rendezvousing at midnight. The Aphrodite cabin will have a hoot with that one."

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 4,931

warnings: none

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story, click here

a/n: hi hi! this is part one of a self-insert series I'm working on. in this story, y/n is a child of hecate, and this storyline follows the books. the current timeline here is post sea of monsters and will continue through the Heroes of Olympus books. though it follows the original plot, y/n has her own storyline and quests. i tried to make y/n gender-neutral but as I continued to work on the timeline for this project, i had decided that this fic is for a fem reader. guys, this is really just me projecting my fantasy into fanfiction lol. i feel like this is a slow start?? and there is a lot of info dumped in this so bear with me. it'll get better and I'll be working to improve my writing as the series continues. I was on a writing hiatus for a really long time and I'm out of practice so this is my way to get back and hopefully, exceed the skills I had when I was a consistent writer. anyways, if you have any feedback, let me know! I'd love to hear what you think. as i get deeper into the series, i might ask for some suggestions on what to do with the fic. anyways, i'll stop rambling and i hope you like it!

Part One Part Two

You ignore the aching in your neck as your focus is fixed on the herbology book in front of you. You’ve been seated at your desk for Zeus knows how long reading and taking notes in your Book of Shadows, determined to finish reading it as fast as possible. Your half-brother, Alabaster, insisted that you need to memorize all the herbs and their properties before he can properly teach you how to use them in potions. Even though you understand its importance, you hated introductory work. You are itching to get to the real stuff, resulting in you glued to your chair, studying through the night as your cabin mates were fast asleep in their beds. But as determined as you are, Ambrose, your familiar, wasn’t much help. Ambrose whines as he rubs his head against your legs like a needy kitten, making it difficult to ignore him.

“What is it, Ambrose?” You whisper, sitting back in your chair in defeat. You take a second to massage the back of your sore neck before turning to face the translucent hound sitting attentively at your side. His tail sweeps the floor as it wags excitedly, and a short huff leaves his snout as if he was proud to have finally gotten your attention.

Your eyes meet his, racking your mind to figure out what Ambrose needs to tell you. At first, you thought he wanted to play, but you didn’t have time for that, so you decided to ignore him. Usually, after being ignored for a while, Ambrose will give up, finding something else to occupy him. But tonight, he was particularly persistent, and he’s only like this when he needs to tell you something.

Before you can ask what he wanted again, Ambrose gets up from his seated position, running over to the small table that stands beside your bed. You furrow your eyebrows, the first thing you notice when you walk over are your crystals neatly placed in front of your spell books as usual. Seeing them made you suddenly remember what you had planned to do.

You had told Ambrose to remind you to charge your crystals and collect water from the lake since there is a full moon tonight and of course, Ambrose being your loyal companion, did exactly that. Before looking down at the hound, who now is breathing heavily, his tail somehow wagging faster than before, you smile to yourself.

“I told you to remind me earlier, didn’t I?” Ambrose snorts and runs around your feet enthusiastically. You couldn’t help but giggle at his excitement as you reached down to pat his head. “Good boy. What would I do without you?” You continue to praise him, grabbing a black pouch and carefully placing the crystals in it. You put your index finger to your lips, signaling Ambrose to be a little quieter despite his excitement. If he accidentally wakes anyone up, then you definitely weren’t going to be able to fulfill your plans.

You bite your bottom lip as you tiptoe out of the aisle between the bunks. You look around the notoriously cramped Hermes Cabin to make sure your assumption that everyone was asleep by now was correct. It wasn’t hard to make out the faces of your cabin mates since seeing clearly in the dark was one of your many gifts, so you carefully walked along the bunks, being as quiet as you could. You are especially cautious as you approach the front where your cabin leaders, the Stoll brothers, slept. You study them for a second, knowing for sure Travis was asleep since he was snoring and loudly at that. Before you can check if Connor is asleep, you hear him shifting in his bed. You stand frozen in your spot, hesitantly looking over and you were expecting to be met with the usual mischievous grin. Instead, his back was towards you now. You have a feeling in your gut that he wasn't asleep, the timing of his moving was much too convenient. You really didn't want to wait any longer though so you decide that you might as well leave before he could stop you.

You turn on your heels, walking over to the window before you push it open. You cringe softly as the hinges creak, and you look back at the cabin to double-check if anyone has woken up from the sound. You sigh in relief when you see no one has moved, and you turn back to the window, carefully crawling out of it. This wasn’t unusual for you. You’ve done this so many times that using windows as a mode of exiting and entering a room was as natural to you as walking in and out of a door, and soon you were hopping down onto the grass. Your back is pressed against the cabin as you walk the side of it. You look up at the trees and the sky, eyes scoping around for any harpies hanging around. After deeming that you were alone, you begin making your way to the lake, Ambrose walking by your side attentively and cautiously to make sure you are safe.

The night was clear; the stars and especially the moon shone brightly in the sky. You sigh softly, taking in the stillness of the night, admiring the glistening lake reflecting the full moon placed above it. You’ve always enjoyed how quiet and cool the nights were, preferring it more than the daytime.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t avoid it as much as you wish to. Most of your siblings can agree with you that they’d prefer to sleep in most days so that they can study and practice their magic at night. However, that wasn’t the schedule of the Hermes Cabin. It was pretty impossible to sleep in since the mornings were always hectic. In fact, the cabin was just hectic, period. There was always something going on, whether it was an elaborate prank or the guys arguing over who gets to shower first after coming back from training which usually resulted in an intense game of rock, paper, scissors. You can’t say that you didn’t like it; at least you were entertained.

You also always had someone to talk to, and because there were often new campers coming in and out of there, you have easily familiarized yourself with a lot of the kids at camp. However, like your mother, you did enjoy and yearn for the occasional periods of solitude. As fun as living with the Hermes kids was, you and your siblings did find yourselves getting a little irritable at their shenanigans. It was at those times, you did wish that your mother, Hecate, had a designated cabin.

You and your siblings had always said if they ever got a cabin of their own, they would make sure everyone had separate rooms and would have designated spaces to socialize and practice their magic so that it was quiet for the most part. Alabaster, especially, was really passionate about this topic. He complained how it didn’t make sense that your mother wasn't recognized since you and your siblings were a powerful little bunch. You all needed a space to practice your magic and practice preferably at night since you were the most powerful at that time of day; you were also less prone to making mistakes in your spell casting at night. You agreed with him and would get upset about it sometimes, but the Hermes Cabin was a place you considered to be a second home. The communal feel of the space was something you enjoyed, it was one of the few places where you felt fully accepted which was rare to find being a demi-god with abilities like yours. In return to the Hermes Cabin welcoming you with open arms, you accept the inconveniently loud environment as an admirable quirk and went on with your days.

Then to compensate for the lack of silence and solitude, you would often stay up late, taking advantage of the quiet to focus on your studies. Even if you had to sacrifice the amount of sleep you got, you felt like it was worth it.

It doesn’t take you long to arrive at the dock, sitting down close to the end with your legs folded under you. You first collect lake water in a jar before carefully taking out the pouch's crystals. Assuming you had only a few left in the pouch after laying most of them on the dock, you tilt it with your hand under it, only for the crystals to come out all at once. You fumble, hands trying to bring them to your chest, but with your luck, one of your crystals falls right into the water with a plop.

“Dammit!” You peer over the edge and groan, Ambrose whining at your misfortune as he stands beside you. You look down at the water, noticing Ambrose’s and your dim reflection in it. There was no way you could get that crystal now because you didn't know how to swim, and you consider that maybe tomorrow you can convince your twin brother, Atticus, to look for it or Alabaster if Atticus refused, which you were expecting him to.

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat, jumping back as a head of dark hair abruptly pops up from right where you were staring. Ambrose barks loudly next to you, equally as startled, and your eyes widen. You stand up hastily at the realization that Ambrose's loud barks in the dead of night will catch the attention of the harpies, and right now, that was more important to you than the mysterious person that just sprouted up in the water like a zombie coming out of a grave.

“Shush! Ambrose, quiet!” Your frantic command was enough to make him stop with a whine, and you sigh shakily, turning towards the camp to check if there were any harpies.

“I think you dropped something.” Ambrose moves in front of you protectively, a low growl coming from his chest as he cautiously studies the person. You look back where the voice came from and to your surprise and your relief, you find that the mysterious person in the lake was no other than Percy Jackson. You never had a conversation with him before, but you definitely knew about him. It was kind of hard not to know who he is since he’s been the talk of the camp since he’s arrived. Your thoughts about him weren’t any different from most of the camp. You’ve seen him fight and use his powers during capture the flag, and you were just as impressed as everyone else. You did have to admit that you found him to be pretty cute too. His eyes were gorgeous, clear, and bright like a shallow, cyanic sea. You also found it adorable how his hair always looked a little disheveled.

Your (e/c) eyes met Percy’s green ones before looking at your rose quartz in his hand. You smile sheepishly, noticing the amused look on his face.

“Ah, yeah, that’s mine.” You walk over to him, but as you get closer, so does Ambrose, and his growls get louder. "Ambrose, heel. It's okay," you say softly, and he stops in his place, but his stance is still at alert, his eyes watching Percy cautiously. You pat Ambrose's head before walking past him and over to Percy. "Thanks," you smile, taking your rose quartz from his hand.

"No problem… I don't think your ghost dog likes me," Percy jokes, moving to look past your legs at Ambrose, who’s standing tall on your left side.

"Yeah, well, you kinda scared the crap out of us," you point out, amused. You take in Percy's goofy smile as he pulls himself up from the water, and you notice that he’s completely dry as he settles on the edge before turning his body to look at you.

“It’s y/n, right?” He asks, and you nod, figuring he’s probably heard about you in passing from Connor and Travis since he was friends with them too. “What are you doing out here so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you retort playfully, making him smile. You move to sit down where you were standing. You spread the crystals neatly on the wood, making a mental note to get them before you go to bed.

"I couldn't sleep, so I came out here to hang out, but then a hippocampus swam up. One of its friends got stuck in a fisher's net not too far from here, so I went to help," he explains, and you nod. "I told you my excuse, so what's yours?"

You hum, "It's a full moon out tonight, so I thought I should take my crystals out. I also needed moon water for a potion, so I collected some for that," you point over at the big mason jar full of lake water. "It’s not as cool as your excuse,” you say playfully.

A short laugh comes from Percy, and when you look up from your crystals, you notice he was looking at Ambrose again, who was still in his tense stance. Ambrose was especially protective of you and Atticus, and it wasn’t unusual for him to be cautious of the new people you come across. You assumed that Ambrose was particularly tense with Percy since he had successfully caught you both by surprise.

"Ambrose, relax.” You pat the top of his head to soothe him. "Lay down." Ambrose whines, licking your hand affectionately for a little, and you can tell he was still uneasy about the other. He was hesitant, but he follows your command anyway, laying down with his head on your lap.

"You can touch him?" Percy asks, his eyes wide and curious as he watches you pet Ambrose.

"Yeah, I can touch ghosts in general. My mother is Hecate, goddess of necromancy, along with magic, the night and the moon," you tell him. "This is Ambrose. My mother gifted him to me to be my familiar, kinda like a guardian." You look down at the hound, smiling softly as you scratch behind his ear softly.

Ambrose is a burly Molossian Hound who lived in the time of Alexander The Great. From what your father told you, his breed was well valued in Ancient Greek and Roman times and was often used in war. It is easy to understand why the breed was used in war. Ambrose is huge and muscular, about 6 feet tall when he stands on his hind legs, and he weighs around 200 pounds. At first, Ambrose can come off as a little intimidating. You remember how your siblings had avoided him when you first arrived at camp before they realized that he was the clearest definition of a gentle giant. Even though he was trained to fight when he was alive, he was still as gentle as a well-trained house dog unless he was given a reason not to be.

"When did you get him?" Percy asks, his eyes focusing on Ambrose’s translucent body that looked like it is made up of this gray swirling vapor. He couldn’t exactly wrap his head around how Ambrose’s head was comfortably propped up on your thigh.

"We met on the night I was on my way to Camp so about 2 years ago. Without him, my brother and I probably would have never made it to the borders.” You look up at Percy, meeting his eyes again; you watch as his face softens as he shifts to lean back on his hand.

"Really?" You hum and nod, ready to drop the conversation there, thinking you shouldn’t bore him with the details. You didn’t really like talking about it much, but the way he was looking at you made you feel like he was inviting you to continue talking.

"We got separated from our father at the gas station a couple of miles away from here. He went inside the convenience store to get us snacks, and while he was in there, a cyclops had found us, tried to grab us out of his car. We jumped out and ran into the woods nearby," you explain as you look out at the dark horizon.

You remember the sound of your father yelling after you and Atticus and how it broke your heart hearing, for the first time, such despair in his voice. You knew your dad didn’t want to bring you guys to camp, but he knew it was in Atticus’s and your best interest to come here and be with other people like you guys.

When you and Atticus started developing your powers, your father had simply told you guys that you were special and to refrain from using your telekinesis anywhere else but home. He didn’t say anything more until one night, you and Atticus had gotten in a screaming match about a reason you don’t even remember. However, in your screaming match, the both of you were so angry that a green aura had formed around you both, and books, magazines, even cutlery were being flown across the room because of the sheer energy you were admitting as a unit. It was then your father had decided to take you and Atticus to the camp to control and learn about your powers before you guys destroyed the house over a dumb argument like who’s turn is it to have the TV remote.

"We were more concerned about the monster hurting our dad, so we decided on a whim to run in the forest. My brother and I have telekinesis powers, and I aimed well enough to send a rock right at the cyclops eye. We lost him a little after that, but we didn't know where we were. We made too many twists and turns; we had no idea what direction we came from. And then, this buddy appeared out of nowhere from a distance. I saw him glowing from far away and couldn’t make out what he was, but I felt that I had to follow him. So we did, and he got us to camp with no detours for any other monsters. He's been with me ever since," you say, and a low whine comes from Ambrose’s mouth as he nuzzles the side of his face on your thigh contentedly.

Percy nods, and he huffs softly, "You guys got lucky. How old were you and your brother when you got to camp?"

"12, we're twins. We actually got here a couple of weeks after you did,” you mention. You watch Percy’s mouth curve into a half-smirk.

“Wow," he says, amused, and shakes his head. “So you have a twin and a dead dog, no fair," he jokes. You giggle, rolling your eyes playfully,

"Oh please, and you have crazy water powers. You’re completely dry after swimming! I think that's pretty envy-worthy."

"Hey-,” he shrugs, taking a second as if to form a protest. “I guess you're right,” he admits and laughs. You laugh with him, opening your mouth to say something else but unfortunately, you were interrupted by a screech echoing in the distance.

Both you and Percy stand up quickly, trying to figure out which direction it came from. “The harpies,” you both mutter in unison. You bend down to grab your things, and you look at Ambrose.

"Go distract them, bud," you tell him, and Ambrose jumps up to his feet, and you watch as he runs away, barking to get their attention. Just then, you see the wings of the Harpies coming up from the trees of the forest. You turn to Percy, grabbing his hand quick,

“Incantare: Transpectus!" You exclaim confidently, closing your eyes to envision you and Percy becoming transparent on the dock. You've never tried doing this spell before, but you've gotten better at visualizing and setting intentions, so you had some hope in yourself. You open your eyes, not feeling any different, and you hoped that you just didn't make a fool of yourself in front of Percy. But when you look down at your hand hesitantly and notice it was hard to make out since you were see-through like glass, you sigh in relief. You smile to yourself, more than satisfied that you were able to pull that off.

"Woah, are we invisible?" You look over at Percy, able to see him just fine since he was under the spell with you. Percy looks down at himself, eyes widened as he processes he can’t see his body anymore. You observe him for a second, finding it cute how he looked surprised and obviously entertained at the fact that he was completely see-through. You feel yourself growing a little flustered, trying not to focus too much on the fact that you were holding hands with him.

"Something like that. C'mon, it won’t last too long," you whisper, and your grip around his hand tightens as you guys begin running to his cabin. You hear the harpies screeching in frustration as they swoop down to try and grab Ambrose, only for their claws to go right through him. While the harpies were growing more annoyed, Ambrose, on the other hand, was having way too much fun, running in circles and barking at them as if he’s teasing.

"Man, I wish I had a ghost dog," you hear Percy mutter behind you as you arrive at the steps of his cabin.

"Yeah, Ambrose is pretty great," you admit, watching him play with the harpies before shifting your gaze over to Percy. "Thanks for getting the crystal for me." As much as you wanted to stay talking to him, you knew you couldn't stay too long. You were still eager to finish studying, and Ambrose can only hold off the harpies for so long.

"It was no problem. It was on my way up anyways," he shrugs, and you smile, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach. You look down, the two of you still holding hands even though the spell wore off already. You awkwardly let go of his hand, shifting on your feet.

"Well, I'll see you around," you say sheepishly, fiddling with your fingers.

"Yeah, I'll see you.” His hand comes up in an awkward wave. You nod, returning the wave. Your eyes meet Percy’s green ones one more time before turning on your heels and walking down the steps of his cabin. You notice that Ambrose is now long gone into the forest, taking the harpies with him to give you time to rush to the other side where your cabin is.

As you hurry back to your cabin, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you replayed the interaction you just had with Percy, and you couldn't help but wonder when would be the next time you could talk to him.

You carefully hoist yourself up, climb back into the cabin through the window, sighing softly once you get in. You slowly close the window, your face scrunching at the creaking sound, but you successfully get it closed before turning around, only to be faced with Connor Stoll standing a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest. You gasp loudly, almost dropping the mason jar in your hand, being startled for the second time tonight.

“Oh, look who’s back,” he says, his lips pulled in his usual mischievous smirk, his right eyebrow raised as if he's suspicious of you. You shift, giggling nervously under his graze,

"Hey, Con.” Shit. You knew he wasn’t asleep, and a part of you wasn’t surprised that he had caught you sneaking out again. You weren’t too worried since Connor wasn’t one to be strict or easily angered, neither was Travis, but you can understand if he did get a little upset with you since the cabin could also get in trouble, and he worried about you getting hurt.

"You leave so often, I'm starting to think you're seeing someone," he teases, and you furrow your eyebrows, not really sure what he was trying to get at.

"I'm not seeing anyone. You know what I do when I sneak out," you tell him, putting your hand out to show him the jar full of water. After being caught the first couple of times, you had explained to Connor why you occasionally needed to head out at night. He was understanding of your reasons, telling you to try and not sneak out as often. When he did catch you, he always kept your outings secret. It came with a price, though. You were sometimes stuck doing extra chores, especially anything that had to do with cleaning, since he hated doing anything that had to do with mopping or sweeping.

"So that wasn't you and Percy on the dock?" Your eyes widen, and you feel your face get hot again. You shake your head, stumbling over your words for a second.

"Uh… n- that was a coincidence!" You hear him snort, laughing quietly as if he didn't believe you. Even though he couldn't see your facial expression very well in this lighting, he can still tell how flustered you were at his sudden question.

"Yeah, sure," he says sarcastically, and he hums, "Anyways, what are you going to do for me so that I don't tell on you?" He asks, and your mouth drops open. Usually, he wasn't so forward, and he never threatened to tell on you. "I might spread a rumor about you and Percy rendezvousing at midnight. The Aphrodite cabin will have a hoot with that one."

You gasp, "Connor, are you blackmailing me right now?" You narrow your eyes at him, and he shrugs,

"I guess you can say I am." You shake your head, walking over to your desk to put down your moon water before turning toward him and crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"... what do you want?" You ask, expecting him to make you take up one of his chores. But from the way he was smiling at you, you can tell that there was something more he wanted, and you were beginning to worry.

"Help me turn the Ares Cabin into bunnies," he says, and you shake your head frantically,

"No way! Clarisse will kill me," you whisper. Connor smiles,

"No, she won't. She can't kill you if she's a bunny," he points out, and your face falls flat,

"They're not gonna stay bunnies forever," you say, and you fiddle with your fingers nervously at the idea of the outrage you'd get from the Ares Cabin after shifting back from being bunnies. "I don't know, Con. I don't even know if I can turn all of them into bunnies at once."

Connor waves his hand at you, dismissing your concern. "I don't care for the logistics now. We can work on that later, but you have to agree to at least help me," he says. "Or I'm telling everyone I saw you smooching Percy on the dock."

"What!? We didn't even kiss. We talked for like 5 minutes!" You whisper-yell, your reactions much too entertaining for him, and he was having a hard time holding in his laugh.

"Your decision, y/n."

You sigh, throwing your head back. You look at the ceiling for a second as you consider your two choices. And you decide that getting your head potentially put on a stick by Clarisse was better than the burning embarrassment of Percy thinking you're spreading rumors about kissing him. "Fine, whatever. I'll help you do the bunny thing," you mumble, your shoulders slouched.

Connor nods with a proud smile on his face for trapping you into helping him. "Good choice. I will be going back to sleep now. Good night… again," he announces, turning on his heels and walking over to his bed. You frown a little as you walk back to your desk to study. Plopping down onto your chair, you decide that you’ll worry about Connor’s little plan later so you can focus on your studying. After a while, Ambrose comes trotting in, joining you by the desk as usual. You smile at him, praising the other for distracting the harpies for you before he lays down, his head laying on your foot.

As you study, you find that you couldn’t help your mind drifting back to Percy once and a while. You deem that there was no way that you could have a crush on him since you guys have only spoken once. In the midst of your internal debate to decide what you felt for him, you suddenly remember the crystal that was retrieved for you. You remember how Percy presented it to you, holding it out for you with his fingertips. It was your rose quartz. What a coincidence. You smile, rolling your eyes as you tell yourself that you’re thinking too much into it. You look over, noticing the dim illuminating light of the beginning sunrise shining through the curtains. You sigh, deciding that you should probably get to sleep and take advantage of the maybe, four hours of sleep you’ll get tonight. You close your herbology book before making your way to your bed, and with a soft sigh, you retreat under the covers, and finally, you surrender to your drowsiness.

masterlist

#percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #connor stoll #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson fic #slow burn #friends to lovers #connor stoll x reader #percy jackson oneshot #pjo #my writing

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writingsbychlo · 3 years ago

Text

sun in the shadows (03)

word count; 12,706

summary; trying to make some headway on the study leads to an interesting revelation, and progress in your friendship with noah.

notes; if this part is a little sucky, I apologise. it was a last minute addition that I created because I realised I wanted to include some extras.

warnings; brief mentions of panic attacks/anxiety, but it’s very mild.

The weather was improving, the drizzle of the winter and the grey skies overhead were getting lighter, the showers of rain were getting less frequent and the winter was moving on. Spring was making itself known, bulbs of daffodils were finally taking root in the soil, and green was sprouting from the earth that had been frozen over and dead only a couple of weeks ago. The watery floors were drying up, limited ice was fading away, and graduation was sitting right on the horizon for you all.

Your fingers flexed around the strap of your bag, rooting through the contents to find a place to slip your file inside, all your notes for the class you’d be having were inside, and there was a blank page for your next session waiting to be filled out. Once it had its place, albeit getting a little bit crumbled against the other content, you removed your wallet, a few coins jingling in the bottom, and you hoped it was enough for two coffees.

There was a coffee stand not too far away, and you were hoping an extra shot of coffee before you went in might get your brain working a little faster. Only a couple of feet ahead of you was a face you recognised, a dark jumper to match dark denim jeans, a pair of boots for motorbike riding that were beginning to scuff along the edges and the toes. He was hanging over his money, a brown bag holding a pretzel and a tall cup, the tell-tale tag of a teabag hanging over the edge, and he walked away.

Joining the back of the line, you watched him go, sitting not far across the quarter with his headphones on, settling on one of the recently repainted memorial benches. He pulled the tab on eh coffee back, opening it up and a cloud of steam left the drink, curling up into the air that still held a slight chill, drifting away to disappear as he blew against the surface of the drink. In his other hand was his phone, scrolling aimlessly on it as a way to keep himself disconnected from everyone else around him and prompt nobody else to join him. His bag was out on the bench too, pushed a short distance from his body in an attempt to take up the rest of the space to deter company.

Ordering a simple set of black coffees, and finding you had just enough change for a muffin too, you waited patiently for your order, an assortment of condiments and the double-chocolate treat you’d paid for being handed to you first. There was a grinding, the slight screech of the machine as it crushed the beans to create two black coffees for you, plastic lids sealed on and two cardboard jackets fastened around them.

Balancing the load between them all, you headed over to him, using your knee to nudge the bag up the bench until it bumped his leg, and he jerked slightly, looking up to see you. Offering him a beam, his narrowed eyes lightened a little, and he sighed. Putting down his phone and moving his bag to the floor, he lifted the headphones away from his ears, and let them hang around his neck. Sitting yourself down, he slumped back into the wood, and you scooted up to sit closer to him, placing the spare coffee you’d bought for Stiles on the floor away from your feet.

“Hey, Noah!” He gave a short nod, still a little uncomfortable, and he turned to face you more. “So, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“How did you know I was here?”

You shrugged, opening up the bag of extras and searching through for a couple of sweetener packets, and a wooden stirrer. “I didn’t. I was just gonna’ grab a coffee before class and head to my hall early, because, y’know, studying at home is distracting.” Your hand waved off the statement, finding the packets you wanted, and clutching your cup between your knees for stability. “So, anyway I was going to text you when I got there, but then I saw you, so I figured I’d come and say ‘hey’!”

“Right.”

“So, hey!” You waved a little before taking the top from your coffee, and leaving it on the bench beside yourself. “I ask once again, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“Well, since I am the most popular guy at this college, I’m pretty busy.” He smiled a little at his own joke, particularly when you gave him a laugh, and your brow raised.

“Oh, he’s got jokes today, huh? I like it, I can roll with that.” Tipping the sugar into the cup, you added a couple of packets, before stirring it slowly. “I take it you’re free, then. I was hoping we could squeeze in some study stuff this afternoon. I have a class in a couple of minutes, but I wanted to see if you were free?”

“Well, I’m free all day. I had a six AM class.” His face screwed up at the idea, and you could feel his pain, having spent the entirety of your sophomore year with a teacher who held lectures at six AM so she could avoid her morning sickness before class, and rush home for it afterwards. Professor Anderson going off on her maternity leave was the best thing that had happened to your education that year.

“Great, I’ll sort it with Stiles, and we’ll text you the details.”

“Sounds like a thrill. I can hardly wait.” He smiles, the sarcasm just like his brothers as it came through, and you repaid him for the joke with a chuckle. While the two of you had made progress, you could tell he was still a little unsure around you. You were polar opposites and he didn’t take well to that, the atmosphere that you brought with you could be a little too much for him to handle sometimes, you couldn’t stop the guilt that was eating at you a little. “What’s wrong? You’ve got a look on your face like you want to talk about things. Just warning you, I’m not good at that heart-to-heart stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve witnessed that.”

“Shut it.” He teased, sticking his tongue out at you childishly, and you grinned cheesily in reply to him. “You can tell me, though. Can’t promise I’ll help, but..”

“It’s nothing weighing me down. I just wanted to apologise. I clearly interrupted your free time. You got yourself a little pretzel to eat in silence, and everything.” He offers you a blank look at your slight dig, and you only winked, waving the muffin in a bag that you’d bought, and taking a sip of your coffee once the lid was sealed back on. “People usually like it when I stop by to see them, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay, really.” His words were strained, the response bringing you no relief as he forced them out, and your frown remained. “I’m serious, okay? It’s alright.”

You were trying your best but learning the lines with Noah was different to you. Upon starting college you’d been thrown in at the deep end of socialisation and a whole world you’d never quite had access to before. Coming from a smaller town that had always limited your expectations was tough, and you’d taken it differently from the way Noah had. You’d had so many experiences, becoming legal to drink and venturing beyond your comfort zone, truly leaving home and facing the idea of having your life laid out before you, the first time truly having your heartbroken, and being too far to simply collapse into the arms of your mom or dad for support when things got messed up.

“When does your class start?” You jumped, lost in your thoughts as you slumped back into the bench, and you sat up straight again, turning to find that Noah was already looking at you, eyes scanning over you slowly. It was a good reminder, time had been slipping away from you and in the ease of his peaceful and quiet company, you could have sat there for hours.

Checking your watch, you sighed, lifting your bag strap back up onto your shoulder more securely, and packing everything you had with you inside, leaving you to hold a coffee cup in each hand. “In about ten minutes.”

“How about I walk you?” He picked up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder, and you nodded, a warmer feeling at his offer blooming where cold guilt had been. Standing up and making sure not to spill any of the scalding coffee onto your hand. Peering around the busy campus quarters that was more filled now than it had been for months, the lighter weather tempting groups to come out of their dormitories and the cafés to gather outside instead.

He fell into step beside you, toes scuffing occasionally on the slightly uneven stonework of the quad, before it fell away into smooth concrete pathways on the way to your lecture. The grass alongside each path was growing greener, dull colour fading away into something brighter. Paper crinkled beside you, the cup of tea in his hands being finished and the cardboard cup was crushed between string fingers, knuckles even paler than usual as he crumpled it up, and as you approach the closest bin, it was disposed of.

Your fingers flexed around your coffee cup, almost having forgotten that it was there as the heat from the two began to fade away a little. Taking a sip, the refreshing burst of sweetened caffeine was like a spark to your system, and you revelled in it. “How do you take your coffee?”

You lower the cup from your lips, swallowing your mouthful, and you couldn't stop the rise of your brows once you turned to look at him. “Creamer, usually. I like a caramel flavoured one. But, since I’m not big on creamer in packets or from street vendors, this one just has sweeteners.”

“Cool.” He nodded, and your lips pressed together tightly to try and contain the smile you wanted to let free, silence forming between you both for a moment, a further gathering of steps as the two of you went on, your building coming into sight again. “Did you watch the news last night?”

“Is this small talk?”

“It’s an attempt at small talk.” He winced, and you chuckled, a small smile on his features as the fear of judgement or humiliation washed away, and he gave a sigh.

“Okay, let's try this.” Your mind spun, searching for a track of something to talk about, and a thought clicked into space. “If you could watch one genre of movies for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Comedy. Like, comedy-action. You know, ones like ‘Jumanji’ or something?” He was quick with it, certain about his answer, and you nodded.

“Yeah? That was quick. How come you’re so sure?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, one hand coming up to hold his bag strap, swinging it to the side to be able to get inside, and fish out the paper bag with a pretzel inside. “I guess I just think they’re good for you. Good for the soul. They have action and it keeps you a little on the edge of your seat, but it’s funny. It's easy-going, when you’ve got anxiety, or you’re having a bad day, or you just want background noise, they’re perfect.”

“Alright. Fair enough. Okay, tricky one.” his eyes narrowed a little, but an amused look passed over his features while he waited. “If you had to choose specifically between comedy and action, which is it?”

“It’s got to be action. Because comedy usually means Adam Sandler or Seth Rogen, and some of their comedies are good, but some are jus-” He paused, jaw dropping a little, and his hand came out, pausing in front of your to bring you to a halt too. A smile curled on your lips, and he looked shocked. “Holy shit, you’re good!”

“Ask a basic question that people are passionate about, it always leads to more options, and everyone always wants to talk about something fun.” His head shook slowly, as though he was in disbelief, and you took a dramatic bow, trying not to spill the coffees in your hands as you giggled. “Give it a go, I bet you can do it.”

The paper in his hands crinkled, your footsteps taking up again, and the two of you were making your way towards the building once again. Taking a bite from his pretzel, a piece torn away with his teeth, he thought it over. “Does your family have any secret or ‘famous’ recipes?”

“Oh, that’s a good one. Kudos to you, Noah.”

“Thank you. I thought about it for, like, eight whole seconds.” He grinned, the joke moving away from you both as you left it behind, and you thought about his question.

“Maybe it’s not my family recipe, just a personal one, but I’m great at making lasagne.” He scoffed, and you nudged him with your elbow. “I’m serious! I make a great lasagne!”

“You don’t seem like a cook to me, is all! You seem like the sort of person who’d manage to burn a pit of water.”

“You can’t burn water, an.. oh, I just got it. You jerk.” It was a joke, your nose screwing up as you stuck your tongue out at him, thanking him a second later as he held the door open for him. The bright lights of the outside changed to artificial lights in the halls, not as much coming through the windows as trees outside managed to cast shade into the building. “Well, I can cook. I love to cook, and I’m good at it. Especially lasagne. My family are generally the only ones who have ever had it, and thanks to that insult, you’ll never have it.”

“Oh, woah, no! You have to let me try it now. Prove me wrong, or I’ll be forced to believe you’re bluffing.”

“You’re sneaky.” You scoffed, students filling the hall and filtering in from different sides of the building, lectures in different halls all waiting to take place, and you stepped to the side of the corridor once your doorway was within reach. “If you’re lucky.”

“I’m betting on that.”

Glancing back, Stiles was already inside, as expected. Stiles Stilinski had never once been on time, he was either twenty minutes early or twenty minutes late, and since he’d spent the night with Derek, who was an early bird, you’d figured which one today would be. His head was slumped on his hm half-asleep and on the verge of drooling as he sat there, and you chuckled, turning to Noah. “Thanks for walking me. Also, thanks for small-talking with me.”

“Thanks for the advice on small talk.”

“I’m gonna’ head inside, but, I’ll see you later, okay?” He nodded, confirming the times with you, and lingering a moment longer. It was quiet, but not so tense, and he rolled on the balls of his fete, the half-eaten pretzel in his hands was seemingly abandoned as one hand tucked into his jeans pockets, the other hanging limply while holding the delicacy by his side.

“Thanks for sitting with me. This wasn’t so bad. It was almost fun.”

“You know, one day, you’re gonna’ tell me you had fun with me. I look forward to that day.” He smirked, your head tipping to the side at the expression.

“If you’re lucky.” He was repeating your own words back to you, and you beamed at the chance. Backing away from him slightly, you fixed him with the cheekiest glance you could as you walked through the doorway.

“I’m betting on it.”

You could hear his laugh once you were gone, into the classroom and beginning to take the steps up to a seat beside Stiles that he’d reserved for you, his bag sitting on it. He’d already gotten his equipment out, notepads and pencil laid out in a somewhat organised mess on top of the desk.

Placing the two coffees down, you moved Stiles bag to the floor, tucking it behind his chair and a soft snore made itself known from him, the boy not doing well with early mornings but he never had, not once in your years of knowing him had he handled it very well, so it was no surprise.

“Opening up your bag, you dropped your notebook down onto the surface with a loud ‘slapping’ sound, and he jerked upwards, flailing as he did, and almost knocking the coffees over. Blinking quickly and shaking sleep away, he looked around, eyes wide as he finally focused on you.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that.” He chastised you, leaning back in his seat and holding a hand over his heart. “I was dreaming about high school, I thought you were my lacrosse Coach waking me up for falling asleep in class again.”

“Maybe I am.” You winked, slamming a hand down on the counter. “Drop and give me twenty, Stilinski! Right now!”

“Don’t do that, it’s eerily accurate.” He cringed, shuddering a little, before a wide smile replaced the horrified expression that had morphed, and you pushed a coffee over to him. “You brought me a coffee?”

“Yes, I did. It’s bribery.”

“Oh? What am I being bribed for?” He was curious, rooting through the bag of condiments for it and taking the plastic lid from the cup, steam curling out into the air. Taking an ungodly and certainly unhealthy amount of sweetener and sugar packets to load into his coffee.

“Your free time this afternoon. I’m thinking about getting some of my study done, I can get all the work for the next couple of sessions sorted now, but how do you feel about being asked some later?” He tipped them in, a drop of coffee flying up over the edge and landing on the desk as he stirred his drink with vigour, that same hyper excitement that he always had.

“Can’t I just fill them out now?”

“It’d be better if I could get your responses with Noah.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and making a scene of it, but there was a smile that told you he already agreed.

“You should have brought me two coffees, but fine.”

You let out a victorious ‘aha!’, and shook the little brown paper bag that was still sitting on your half of the desk at him. “I also brought you half of a muffin!”

“Only half of a muffin?”

“Well, it was none, but since I didn’t eat it yet and I’d feel bad eating it in front of you, I decided to share it.” You tore it in half, pushing half across the scratched and vandalised wooden surface to him. Crumbs were left along the surface, and Stiles pressed the pad of his finger along them to gather them all up.

“Oh, right. Well, in that case, what I meant was; wow, a full half of a muffin!” He cheered, much more enthusiasm, and you nodded.

“Much better.” At the front of the classroom, your tutor entered, door slamming behind him as he kicked the wedge out from underneath, and his case was placed down on the desk. The room began a hushed quiet, save for the loud slurping of Stiles with his coffee beside you.

“You know,” Your best friend didn’t understand the concept of a whisper, everything he did was more like a dramatic stage whisper on a Broadway show, and a few dirty looks were sent his way. The professor was used to this, a year of experience and advice from previous tutors guiding him to ignore Stiles’ fidgeting and chatter. “You’re going to have to convince Noah to do this.”

Slumping down in your seat a little more, you turned your head to him, nibbling on your half of the muffin. “I already did.”

“What?” This time he was hushed, the man standing at the front near his desk, trying his best to give extra advice to everyone and answer any common questions that he’d been emailed. You’d have to catch the after-class notes in your emails. “When d’you do that?”

“This morning before class. I saw him while getting coffee for you and we walked over.”

Stiles huffed, his brows being pulled together slightly. “Okay. Damn, he was my last free shot at getting the afternoon off.” You grinned, pinching at your friend’s cheek, and he smacked your hand away. “Quit it, I’ve told you not to do that before.”

“In case I pinch your moles off?”

“That's where my power is. My funny is in my moles.” He hissed, only making you laugh more, and you covered your mouth with your hand over his silly superstitions.

“Whatever, freak.”

“Hoe.” He snarked back, and you grinned, punching at his shoulder as best you could from this angle, and he reached up a hand to rub at it. “So, if we’re doing this, I at least want to do it at my place. I’m going out this evening, I gotta’ be ready. Derek’s sisters are coming up to visit.”

“It won’t take long, don’t worry.” He hummed, pulling out his phone and keeping it ducked from view. He was texting his brother, letting him know to be ready, and at what time your class would be ending, giving him a little time to prepare. Opening your book up and flicking to the page you had marked, it was a journal written about the study of the ways that twins raised in different households could grow up similarly, and you were hoping to adopt some of the content for your study.

“So, what’ve you got done so far?”

Stile sighed, flicking open his notebook, and you were shocked by the fact that he was already at the end of it. There were pieces of paper stuck in, a list of book references on one of the tabs down the side of a page, and only a few blank pages left at the back.

“Oh, wow, okay.” You stared at your notebook, barely reaching a quarter of the way through with the notes you’d been making, and it looked like Stiles was ready to start making progress towards a conclusion for his hypothesis. “So, you’ve got a whole lot done, then.”

“Yeah, well, I want to spend as little time in a prison as I possibly can.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead, the pages crammed full of information as he flicked through to find a blank one. “Plus, I didn’t want to go and interview inmates on my own, so I wait until Derek has free time to go with me, and I get as much done in those sessions as I can.”

“You’re gonna’ be done weeks before I am.” You pouted, your pen twirling at the top corner of a page, drawing a collation of pretty flowers to form a border, and he chuckled.

“I have easier test subjects than you do. They’re already guilty and behind bars, they’re more than happy to open up. You’ve gotta’ deal with Noah.”

“That’s true.” You grinned, thinking back on the conversation you’d had with the other twin that morning. When he was alone, it wasn’t so bad, he talked more and he wasn’t so worried about judgements, but as soon as there was someone else who might hear, he completely closed down.

“Hey, seriously, we have ages left. You’re gonna’ be just fine.”

“I’m just freaking out a little bit, because this is the last hurdle, y’know?” He nodded, and you could see whatever it was he was thinking practically swirling in his eyes, because Stiles’ emotions were open to read like a book.

“It’s terrifying. It’s, like, what the hell are we supposed to do when we finish?”

“I don’t know.” Your head dropped to your hands, fingers soothingly rubbing at your temples. A large hand landed on your back, rubbing in comforting circles. “What I do know, though, is that if I don’t get on with coming up with some more content, I’m never gonna’ finish this study in time.”

“Well, put your headphones on and come up with some questions.”

You did as told, plugging your earbuds in and choosing some classical music that would make it easier to concentrate. Opening one of your survey works back up to the page you’d left off at, your eyes began to flicker over the pages, picking out the useful information. Once you had a list built, you had a foundation to work from, questions to create and organise into groups, different sessions being able to come together.

Beside you, Stiles’ hand never seemed to stop rising, a constant dialogue with your tutor as he checked his work and ironed out any kinks in his study. He was also full of chatter and laughter, getting along with everyone around him and asking about their works, making you turn your music up several times just to be able to concentrate. But, by the end of the session, when Stiles was tugging your earbud out and telling you your class was over, you had a solid three pages worth of questions that had been split up into sessions, and ready to be worked through.

“Pack up and get ready to go. I have plans to get ready for.”

Stiles already had his bag in his arms, notebook tucked inside and pens and pencils put away, two empty coffee cups and a muffin wrapper sitting out, which he quickly gathered up, once his bag was on his shoulder. He was gone, walking past you and down to the waste bin at the front of the hall to dispose of them, his fingers tapping idly on his thigh once he was done.

You gathered your belongings, packing them away and curling the wire of your headphones back up neatly, making sure everything had its correct place in your bag, before following him down and out of the steps.

The halls were filled once again, the two of you navigating through crowds to the outside of the building, and you followed him in his diversion across the pathway, all the way to his car. Some students had already left, spaces beginning to empty out as a bottleneck effect took place at the only entrance and exit to this carpark.

“Where’s your car?” The dirty blue jeep was one of the only ones left in the parking lot, Stiles looking around for your vehicle, and you sighed.

“Don’t get me started on that hunk of junk.” You growled, stomping a foot on the floor as Stiles laughed. Opening the driver’s side door, he hopped up inside of it, legs dangling from the chair. “I’m trying not to use it as much. It splutters when it starts up and I have to try it a whole bunch of times, so the less I use it, the closer to graduation we can get before it eventually taps out.”

“You ever think about just getting it fixed?”

“Oh, big words from the man whose engine is held together with duct tape.” Your hand rubbed over the hood of the car, a slightly dusty layer that made you cringe, and you wiped your hand off on your jacket to stop it.

“Touché.” Stiles only smirked. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride to my place. I’ll be waiting for hours if you walk.”

He slammed his car door once his legs were inside, leaning over the centre console to pop open the passenger side door as you rounded the car, and he was sparking up the car before you were even fully inside. Slamming it shut, he was reversing from his spot as you clipped in your safety belt, swinging his car around, and you gripped onto the edge of the door. “Easy there, fast and furious.”

“Oh, relax. Nobody is around.”

“Except for me, and I’d like to live until graduation.” His eyes rolled, hitting the brakes and flicking on the indicators as he was leaving the parking lot, moving out onto the main roads. There weren’t so many other cars, the mid-afternoon meaning the other students were mostly in class, in bed, or eating their lunch. College was a weird time, and while you’d loved it, you couldn't wait to regain some kind of normality. “Can we swing by my place? I need to swap out my books. I don’t want to carry all these around.”

“Okay, but be quick! I have to be ready by six and out the door by six-thirty. Derek will kill me if I’m late for this.” His fingers were tapping on the steering wheel as he changed direction to head to your place instead of his own. The space between you both was filled with the radio, the simple tunes of classic 70s anthems, the songs Stiles had grown up with, his dad’s favourite records and he played them constantly. He knew all the words, mouthing along and banging his head, pausing occasionally to check the mirrors and the roads between dancing in his seat.

Rolling the window down as he slowed in his approach to the building, afresh air swept into the carbon of the car, the slightly musty smell of the older car was something you’d miss when it was gone. The shade of the concrete cover overhead was chillier than the sunny roads, and he swung himself haphazardly into a parking space.

“I’ll turn the car around and wait here, cool?”

“I won’t take long, promise!” Hopping from the car and closing the door, you leant on the open door frame, and Stiles slouched in his seat, as he usually did. “Lydia and Ally should both be out, so there’s nobody for me to even talk to.”

“Good, because you’re chatty.” He teased, and you flipped him off, a quick walk as you headed away from him to the stairs. Once you were there, you were taking a quick jog up the sets of stairs, headed for your floor, and balancing your books in your arms carefully. Rooting through your bag to find your keys, they were at the bottom, jingling tantalisingly for you to find.

Leaving your books on the countertop of the kitchen, you shifted through them, taking the notebook you needed and leaving the rest, piling them back up and taking them to your bedroom Abandoned on the desk, you rushed to change, throwing on a bigger and warmer jumper to get through the rest of the day, phone in your pocket and a bag on your arm. Passing back through the kitchen, you were ready to grab the notebook and bag you’d left there, keys hanging in the back of the door, and you eyed the freezer.

You’d made a bet, a point to prove, and you were certain that buried somewhere deep in the bottom, you had a frozen lasagne from the last time you’d made it for Allison and Lydia. You had a few spare moments, and so you moved over to the freezer, opening the door and crouching to scan over all the shelves.

Running your fingers over frozen plastic, you searched for the right one. Tinfoil crinkling in the back, behind a bag of dinosaur chicken nuggets and a tray of alcoholic ice cubes, was a tray of lasagne. Pulling it out, the cold chilled your arm, even through the layers of your hoodie, and you used your foot to close the freezer while wrapping the tray in the nearest tea towel for an extra layer.

Placing your notebook over it and holding it in both arms for security, you clicked the latch onto the door, keys in your pocket and bag on your shoulder to let it swing closed behind you.

Stiles saw you coming, his head snapping over to the metal door between the stairwell and the parking lot when it fell open, backing through it and his brows raised. Opening up the passenger side door, he took the lasagne from you when you handed it over, climbing back into the vehicle.

“This is cold. What is it?”

“Lasagne.” You settled it onto your lap once your safety belt was on, folding the towel underneath to keep your lap from getting chilled and painful, and he nodded. The engine was still running, and taking off the brakes, he was pulling out of the space again.

“So, not that I don’t love a home-cooked meal, but I’m going out for dinner. Why the traybake?”

“I have a point to prove to Noah.” You were looking out of the window, but you could feel his gaze on you, making you a little uncomfortable, and you turned to face him. His eyes were flicking between you and the road, brows furrowed, a stare like he was trying to figure you out, before he let it go. “He told me I looked like I couldn't cook, and it’s a battle I’m going to win.”

“Well, alright then. Save me leftovers?”

“We’ll see.” You winked, and he grinned, eyes flicking to the tray in your lap, before back to the road.

It was only a short journey, the distance between your place and Stiles’ building was short for a walk and even shorter in a car, on the edges of campus and conveniently placed, and it had been one of the building blocks of your friendship with him An easily accessible study partner, somewhere to hang out with, someone to walk home with you after a night out, someone to share a cab with, or simply knowing there was a friend so close to you.

“It’s going to be weird not living around the corner from you in just a few months.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He sighed, pulling into his one building sparking area and it didn’t have the luxury of being covered or underground, it was exposed each flat having allocated parking spaces, and Noah’s bike was parked underneath the shelter, you could see it from here, with a clamp around the wheel and covered from the impending and risky weather of the early months. “I have a feeling that you’ll end up living next door to me someday.”

“You do?”

He parked the car, arm behind your head as he reversed into it, ready to make a quick getaway on the next morning, or this evening, when he would invariably be late. In true Stiles Stilinski style. “Yeah. Especially after I rock whatever gown you want me to wear for being your maid of honour, someday.”

“Lydia is going to fight you for that role.”

“I will fistfight her for it.” He challenged, and you grinned, clambering down from the car as Stiles had parked a little too close to someone else on your side. With your bag on your shoulder and lasagne in one hand, you tried to squeeze around the door without scratching someone else’s paintwork.

Stiles’ arm was slung over your shoulder as you set off toward the building, the elevator being fully functional, and it was a refreshing change not need to take the stairs up to your place, or risk your life in a rickety elevator.

Throwing his keys down on the kitchen counter, they slid all the way across and to the other side, hitting the floor, and he grimaced when you turned to stare at him. “I’ll pick those up later.”

“Uh-huh.” The sounds of video games and music were coming from behind Noah’s door, though it wasn’t fully closed, only pushed halfway, and you hoped that was a sign that he was still in a good mood. Leaving your bag on the edge of the couch that was facing away from you, your hands rubbed together, glancing around at the environment you were still getting used to. “You should put this lasagne in now, so that it’s ready for after the study. Medium heat, leave the full-on tight.”

“Where are you going?”

“To say ‘hey’ to your brother.” Stiles’ face scrunched up, a mumble of ‘good luck’ as he picked up the tray, lifting it over his head to look in at it from underneath. Wandering toward the sounds coming from the hall, you knocked on the edge of the door, pushing it open a second later when you heard the game pause, and the music following it. Leaning on the doorframe, Noah turned to face you, brows raising slightly, and he shifted in his chair. “Hey.”

“Hi. It’s, uh, time for the study stuff, then?”

“Yeah. You okay?” He shrugged, turning back to his game and closing it off, leaning forwards from where he was sat on his bed enough to turn the console off.

“I didn’t realise we’d be doing it here. It feels more personal, somehow.” He had a large hoodie on, comfortable in his own clothes as he wore a baggy and warm outfit, the same way you often had when everything started to feel overwhelming.

“Well, this study is going to get pretty personal.”

“I know that. It’s just that right now, it feels a bit like I’m naked, y’know?” You chuckled, a momentary smile on his face flashing past, and you were glad to see it. “I just feel exposed.”

“This study is gonna’ do that, but I promise that I’ll try and make it as easy as I can. I’ll break it up, I’ll make it comfortable for you, and we’ll stop whenever you’re getting overwhelmed.”

“That’d be great, actually.” His hands rubbed together, sleeves hanging slightly down over his palms, and he looked a whole lot less terrifying right now than he did with the armour of a bike and a leather jacket. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Good, because I need you in high spirits. I brought a lasagne and I have a point to prove.”

You backed out of the room as he advanced toward you, the door closing and leaving you both standing in the hall, and he smirked down at you a little, a disbelieving expression. “You really brought that?”

“You bet I did. It’ll be ready by the time we finish.”

“Then I guess we’d better get started, huh?” He hopped over the back of the couch, settling in beside his brother, who scowled at him as his drink spilt down his shirt from the impact. Taking a seat on the other side of them both, your legs folded underneath yourself in the armchair, finding a glass of water laid out for yourself on the table, courtesy of Stiles.

They looked so different and yet so similar in this moment. You could understand how people may have confused the two of them before their styles became so radically different. In the beginning, before Noah turned to leather and a sleeve tattoo, when they both wore hoodies and band tees and had clean pale skin. With the sleeve of tattoos covered, and the pair both wearing hoodies, one with an etching across the front and the other with a faded logo from being washed one too many times,

Laying out your books, it was more of a note you’d keep to yourself, and following from that was your recorder, coated in the front pocket of your bag so as not to get crushed. Switching it on at the side, the red light flashed on to green blinking once to let you know it was active. “Can you guys do your confirmations for me while I get set up?”

“Surely can.” Stiles sat forwards, leaning down a little with his forearms braced across his knees, as opposed to Noah, who slumped back into the cushion. “Stiles Stilinski, happy to be recorded.”

“Noah Stilinski, aware of being recorded.” Stiles rolled his eyes at his brother’s dead tone, clearly not having as much fun as Stiles was, but you didn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, why don’t you guys tell me what it’s like to live together at college.” There was a beat of silence, and then a set of matching laughs from both of them, the two starting at one another. There was a look between them, one you didn’t quite understand, and it seemed like some kind of twin-telepathy communication.

“It’s, like, exactly the same as when we were in high school.”

“Uh, what?” Stiles interjected, and Noah turned to look at him. “It’s nothing like high school!”

“Yes, it is!” Noah insisted, and you smirked, picking up your water and taking a sip as the two stared in shock at one another. “We lived together in high school, we played video games, I did all the cooking and you did all the cleaning while dad was at work. The only thing that is different is that we can’t cheat from one another’s homework anymore.”

“We don’t drive to school together anymore, we’re on opposite sides of campus!”

“That so doesn’t count.” Noah scoffed, and Stiles twisted on the couch, his hand gestures much more emphasised than that of his brother’s and you watched the debate go down. “You can’t name any more than that.”

“I take that as a challenge.” Stiles’ head rolled side to side. “Our schedules don’t match up anymore, and we haven’t had our usual movie nights in almost six months now. I can’t bring Derek over because your room is right across from mine-”

“My room was across the hall from you at home. You just didn’t date in high school or have anyone to bring home.”

“Low-blow. Unlike some people, I didn’t want to traumatise my brother in high school by bringing someone home, for that.” Stiles reached out mid-sentence, swatting at his brother’s shoulder, before continuing; “Uh, let's see. Oh! We don’t talk anymore, you didn’t ride your motorbike so much at home, you used to ride in the jeep with me. It’s like a totally different world now.”

“I didn’t know you felt like that.” There was a palpable kind of feeling in the air, something between them that was sizzling with electricity, before Stiles sighed.

“It’s no big deal. The difference is just that we’re both so busy now.”

“That was really good, actually. Thanks.” The two seemed to have forgotten you were there, both flinching and turning to face you again, matching sets of honey-coloured eyes in varying shades were fixing on you again. “Speaking of what you said, though, does it ever make it hard for you guys when your class times are so different?”

“Hard to do what?” Stiles squinted at you, face set in a frown that his twin normally wore.

“Hard to hang out, talk, have that whole brotherly bond going on.” Your clarification did little for Stiles, his brows still pulled tight and frown never moving, but Noah’s face smoothed out.

“Oh.. well, I g-”

“Totally.” Noah pressed, and once again, Stiles’ head whipped around to look at his brother. “Don’t look at me like that. You basically said it, anyway. We don’t talk so much anymore. We barely know each other. You don’t even tell me about your podcast, anymore.”

“You never listened!”

“You used to tell me your problems, not broadcast them to the world with jokes and humour! I missed two episodes, and you just stopped keeping me updated on it.” The moodier twin crossed his arms over his chest, and you swallowed thickly at the environment you had unwittingly created. “I don’t know. Just feels like we used to talk a lot more.”

They both went silent, and Noah shot you a pleading look, but there was something darker behind it. It almost felt venomous, angry or defensive, as though to say ‘I told you so’ about it being more personal now that they were home. Stiles was occupying himself with pulling a loose thread on their couch cushion out and making it that much worse, distracting himself from it all. “Well, how about something a little bit lighter. Just some questions about hobbies. Stiles, what inspired you to first start a podcast?”

“Well, as you know, I never stop talking.” He smirked, Noah laughing beside him, and just like that, the awkward air between them both was completely evaporated. “I had a lot to say, I had a lot to get off of my mind. At first, it was just to get my thoughts out there. It was kind of like a recorded journey for myself, and to share with my friends from back home. But, then other people started listening. I thought it was going to be the end of my college social life, a social life that I was developing for the first time ever, and they liked it. I was just talking into a mic and getting things off of my chest, making no sense while telling stories and bitching about my homework and suddenly I had friends. It got a whole lot of followers and I made new friends,”

He paused, offering you a wink for the comment, and you beamed.

“-and I was going to parties, I met my boyfriend at a pep rally, and everything just kinda.. blossomed. The more I got out of it, the more inspired I was to keep going. I ended up making multiple videos a week, all differently themed. Sometimes movie reviews, sometimes songs, sometimes just talking. That’s how ‘Mischief Mic’ was born.”

“Alright. That was awesome.” Stiles bowed as best he could from sitting on the couch, and reached over to take a sip of his drink. “Okay, Noah, have you got any hobbies that you didn’t have in high school that you found when you came to college.”

“Not really.”

“Not even one?” You pushed, and the arms folded over his chest tightened, his gaze going to the floor, socked toes pushing into the twist cable rug. He took his glass, swigging all of it, the water draining from the glass in nervousness, and you could hear the crickets inside your mind chirping to fill the silence that had formed.

“No. Not really. I’m going to get more water, feel free to continue.”

“Uh, okay.” You pressed your pen down into your paper, drawing a line through the question on your paper as you realised you’d have no answer to that question when you listened back on the tape at a later time. “Stiles, back to you, then.”

Your next question came, and went, and Stiles was more than happy to answer them. Occasionally, Noah would answer a question, you’d be able to pin him down long enough to get a straight answer out of him, but there seemed to always be something that he needed to mess with, or fix. Almost half of your questions for him had a line drawn through, and you would have to ask them another time, and get a whole extra session in without Stiles, dragging the study out.

It was going to take you twice as long to get through it all if every time you had to ask them separately, and had to spend your time trying to force him to sit and answer. You were missing half of the information that you needed to be able to compare to Stiles’ answers, you couldn’t answer without them.

The clock ticked by, leaving you with all of your questions for Stiles answered. On a blank page, while Noah had once again been tinkering with something in the kitchen, you’d rewritten up all over the crossed out questions that would still need answers. You had doodled on the corner again, waiting for him to come and sit back down, a collection of hearts and flowers, the occasional bee or ladybug, even a couple of misshaped stars, forming a banner across the top of the page.

When he finally came to sit back down, he huffed, eyes moving to the clock as though he was waiting for this to end just as much as Stiles was, and you gave up.

“Okay, how about we just finish this up?” You had reached the end of your tether, not even bothering with the rest of the questions that were written down for him. “We got almost two hours in, that’s perfect.”

Noah sighed, something like an apology in his look as your eyes met his and he shrugged lightly. Stiles only nodded, eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall, and he was grinning when he came back. Tearing a page out of your notebook for each of them, you passed it over, blank paper sitting before them, and you searched for a pen or pencil in the bottom of your bag for each of them. Placing your pen down before Stiles and a pencil in front of Noah, they both leaned forwards, picking them up. Switching off your recorder and packing it away, you were left with the two staring at you expectantly.

“Okay, Stiles, come fill yours out in the kitchen. You can’t discuss these ones.”

“Oh, some mystery. I like that.” He picked up his paper and pencil, heading over to the kitchen counter, folding the sheet in half as he did, and you nodded. Standing from your place behind the coffee table, your bag slumped a little more from where it had been propped against your leg.

“Okay, I want you both to try self-diagnosing yourself.” Stiles gasped, a little excitement lacing it, and his pencil was already moving over the paper. Noah, however, looked a little lost, looking to you for guidance. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to use professional terms, just, describe what you think, I’ll be able to figure it out, and if I can’t, I’ll ask you about it at some point.”

He nodded, pausing, not quite as eager to get into the activity as Stiles was, before the pencil finally met the paper, and the slow scratching of graphite over paper filled the silence.

Moving away to the kitchen, you searched for plates, and a dish, laying them out on the counter before moving to the oven. A wave of hot air into your face once you pulled the door open, and when it cleared, you search for the kitchen towel you’d brought with you. Wrapping it carefully around the edges of the tray inside, you pulled it out, resting it atop the oven and closing the door back up.

Flicking off the handles, the light inside went dead, and Stiles loomed up behind you. “Smells good!” He presented a piece of paper to you, your eyes flicking over what he’d written once you’d taken it from him, and everything that he’d written about himself seemed completely accurate. It wasn’t a surprising self-evaluation, Stiles had spent almost four years studying this, just like you had, and so it was bound to be accurate and professional. Even if his handwriting looked a little bit like chicken-scratch.

Noah was still working on his, and Stiles was picking at the edges of the tinfoil, trying not to touch the glass of the casserole dish and burn himself, and as soon as he had some foil pinched between his fingers, he was pulling it back. “Wait, Stiles, watch out for the-”

“Fucking steam! Oh, my God, that’s so fucking hot!”

His hand snapped back, half unpeeled as all the steam from inside clouded in the air, and his hand was clutched to his chest. He was glaring at the pot, before moving away and running his hands underneath the cold tap at the sink, his thumb rubbing over wet skin to soothe it.

A second later, Noah was appearing, placing his paper face down on top of Stiles, which now lay on the kitchen counter. “Well, now that I’ve been scalded by pasta, I’m going to go shower and get ready.”

“M’kay.” He backed away, and Noah leaned on the counter beside you.

“Looks good, but does it taste any good, is the question.” The twin you were left with was teasing you, your eyes finding him, and you raised a brow.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get me something to serve it up with, alright?”

He smirked, pulling open the drawer behind him and searching for a serving spoon. Slicing it into pieces, you dished it up for him, a large slab on a plate, still steaming with cheese that had only just stopped bubbling. He grabbed a fork, and one for you too, waiting patiently as you served yourself, and put whatever was left into a dish for Stiles, covering it back up and leaving it to cool.

“Okay, prepare for the best lasagne of your life.”

Picking up the papers and your plate, the two of you moved back to the couch, sitting opposite one another, and you waited with excitement. Taking a piece off of his plate with the edge of his fork, he raised it, blowing cold air over it for a few moments, before taking the bite. There was a tense few moments, while he chewed, face unreadable, before he was swallowing the mouthful.

“Well?”

You couldn’t take the anticipation any longer, a smile on his face at the desperation you showed for his answer, and he gave in. “Alright, alright. This may actually be the best lasagne I have ever had.”

“Yes!” Your hands went up in the air, cheering excitedly and he laughed at your reaction, holding his hand up when you forced him to, palms slamming together in a high-five. He was tucking in again, and you reached for your plate, excited for the meal you had made, Taking a large piece on the tip of your fork, you tucked in.

The sound of Stiles’ shower was running in the background, and he was singing loudly, a song that you were certain was a TV show intro but you’d never seen the show, and there was a chance it was something from Disney Channel. Picking up the pieces of paper again, you turned Noah’s around to face you.

You’d had an expectation, you knew what you thought he was going to write down, and yet you were somehow surprised and entirely not surprised at the same time. It was what you expected but with a twist. He had confidence in what he’d written about himself he was sure of it, and while there were definitely elements that you’d disagree with, there was a lot of truth to it, and you frowned, reading it again.

Noah was watching you do so, the scrape of forks over plates as the lull in chatter came back, and you place the two pieces of paper into the front of your notebook, making sure that it was all sealed tightly away. “Is it alright?”

“It’s just not what I expected from you. But, it’s perfect.”

“That feels like a backhanded compliment.” He smiled softly, but he looked nervous, and you shook your head.

“Not at all, it just means that you have a better grasp on this whole thing than I thought you did.” It was the truth, and while you didn’t want to reveal so much to him about it all without compromising your work, but it made sense. “It just feels like with the way today went, like you weren’t really so interested in it, so I didn’t expect such an accurate self-diagnosis from you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighed, pushing what was left of his food around the plate, and you copied him, appetite dwindling. “It’s just that when you’re here, in my apartment, and you’re asking questions about what changed and making me confront everything, it feels like real therapy. You said it was going to be casual, and this didn’t feel casual.”

“I get it. I really do, and it’s okay. I can just email you the questions you didn’t answer, and you can get around to them whenever you feel up to it, alright?” He nodded, shaking off the evening’s stress. He continued to eat, polishing off the meal that was laid out before him and settling his hands over his stomach once he was finished. There was a satisfied smile on his face, and your empty plate was soon stacking on top of his own. Leaning forwards a little, you caught Noah’s eye, and one of his brows arched up. “I can try to make it more informal, in the future.”

“That would be great, actually.”

You smiled, the consolidation made between the two of you, and your ears picked up on another sound. “Hold on, is Stiles blow-drying his hair?”

“Oh, yeah.” He laughed, head turning to the closed bathroom door where his brother resided. “He thinks it makes his hair fluffy.”

“He gels his hair, though! Why does it matter if it’s fluffy?”

“He’s insane. Don’t you know this, yet?” Noah scoffed, and your giggles carried you back into the rest of the chair as you settled back into it. The evening was still waiting to come in fully. Comfortable quiet fell between you both again, and Noah moved away to take the plates to the kitchen. He left them in the sink, water running to wash them up, before storing Stiles’ lasagne in the fridge.

The aforementioned boy moved from the bathroom to his bedroom, skidding on the floors a little and clutching the towel to his waist as he hurried, making himself late with the extra-long shower and the blowdrying of his hair. Noah was washing up the plates, leaving them to dry on the draining rack, and you took that as your cue. The night was over, that much was clear, and you’d be willing to bet that he was more than eager to get back to his alone time.

Taking your bag and double-checking that you had everything, you swung it up onto your shoulder, and made your way toward the door. Hearing the shuffling of your feet, Noah turned, drying his hands on the towel beside him. “Are you going?”

“Feels like I should. Stiles will be going soon, anyway. I’m sure you have things to do, too.”

“I don’t have anything to do, if I’m being honest.” He cringed at his own words, pulling down the rolled-up sleeves of his hoodie and making his way over to you. Undoing the catch on the door, he pulled it open, leaning against it and you linseed in the doorway.

“Since you’re not doing anything, do you wanna’ get a coffee with me?”

His eyes narrowed, just for a second, and his fingers tapped anxiously on the wood of the door. “As a study subject, or..?”

“As friends.” You confirmed, his lips a thin line for only a second, before pulling up at the sides in a smile.

“Then, yeah. I’d like that.” He looked down, sweatpants and mismatching socks on his lower half, and there was a tint on his cheeks when he looked up. “Just give me two seconds to go change, alright?”

He darted away before you had a chance to reply leaving you there with the words frozen in your throat. Stiles was clattering around behind his own door, and Noah’s door slammed shut, leaving you alone in the doorway. Your hands tapped against your thighs as you waited, bag swinging on your shoulder, and only a second later, one of the doors was opening.

To your surprise, it was Stiles, flapping the flannel on his body to shake out any creases, and he stood before you. Doing a little twirl from where he stood, he began to button it up down his front, looking somewhat smart. It was a nice black and white one, no rips or tears or stains like most of his other ones, and the black stood out prominently against the white, thick patterns with flecks of grey within it.

“How do I look, then?”

“You look great, Sti. I’ve never seen you wear anything so plain before. There’s no colour.”

“Yeah, well, this is a new flannel. It’s my best one, and the skinny jeans are Noah’s. All my skinny jeans are blue or red, it was this or khakis.” He was nervous, resisting the urge to mess with his freshly-styled hair. “The place we’re going to is kinda fancy, but I don’t feel fancy enough for it. I’m gonna’ do something stupid like drop my glass and smash it or make a joke about something dumb.”

“Haven’t you met his family before?” You teased, and he huffed, searching for his keys, and finding them under the counter where he’d never bothered to pick them up from.

“No, not really. I’ve met his mom because she comes to visit a lot, and of course, his little sister, because she’s a sophomore here. But, he has a lot of family. His extended family are coming to graduation, but this is his older sister and his dad, and his uncle, and I’ve never met them before.” His keys were tucked into his back pocket, and his phone followed, your gaze moving over him.

“You got a blazer, Stiles?”

“Uh, yeah. One that my dad made me promise to bring, I wore it to my senior prom.” He shrugged, hands smoothing over his front. “You think I should wear it?”

“Go get it, show me.” He nodded, moving back to his bedroom, and you were waiting for something with orange and blue stripes to come back out, which wouldn’t surprise you. In fact, you’d always imagined Stiles going to his senior prom in a Beetlejuice suit. Noah emerged from the other side of the hall, hangers scraping over their post in a wardrobe as Stiles searched for them. “Did Stiles go to prom in a Beetlejuice suit?”

Noah paused, rolling the edges of his hoodie up, charcoal grey skinny jeans that were only a few shades lighter than the ones Stiles had stolen from him on his legs, and a pair of his usual scuffled boots. “What?”

He was laughing, loudly, shaking his head to hide his grin. “It’s a legitimate question! I have this mental image of it!”

“Unfortunately, he did not. My dad made us both go in three-piece formal suits. He saved up to have them custom made. Said that every man should have a smart suit.” He shrugged, crouching to start tying the laces on his shoes and Stiles reappeared. Over his shoulders was a dark black suit, crisp collar and pressed edges, and it was a beautiful piece of tailoring.

“You look good, Sti. Very smart, but casual. Like a polished version of your usual self.”

“Yeah? Good enough to meet Derek’s family?” His voice shook, and you wished you could ease him more.

“Totally. You look great.” He thanked you both, and Noah grabbed his wallet from the side, and his house keys, letting them both hang in the front pocket of an oversized hoodie.

“You ready to go?” He offered, hand on the top of the door, and Stiles’ head snapped up again from where he’d been checking his phone, presumably looking for texts from Derek.

“Where are you two going?”

“We’re getting coffee!” You beamed, and Noah nodded, stepping a little further out of the door with you.

“Oh, well, have fun. I’ll text you updates about how it goes. I might need bathroom-break pep-talk during the night.” You waved to him as you went, wishing him ‘good luck’, before the two of you were wandering down the halls. Thumbing the button for the elevator, the doors popped open, and you were stepping inside along with Noah.

“So, you wanna’ show off those new small talk skills to me, then?”

“Okay, okay. Let me think of something.” He hummed under his breath, glancing up to the top of the elevator and looking around at the posters on the walls for inspiration, and he seemed to find one. Turning his attention quickly back to you, you prepared for what he’d found. “Have you listened to any of the student bands? There’s been a lot of them growing, lately.”

“I’ve noticed that, actually.” There were several posters up around the inside of the elevator, different coloured flyers, some on shiny paper and some on smooth matte, varying fonts and designs, it was dizzying. “I haven’t, I’ve never been to see a student band. I should do that before I graduate, though. Have you?”

“I’ve been to a couple.” The door clicked open, the two of you stepping through it. Out into the setting chill of the evening that was threatening to break its way in. He chose the direction you’d be going in, heading toward the coffee shop on the side of campus that had been the first the two of you had met at when beginning the study. “Some of them are good, some of them are kinda’ average. They usually play at the bars on the edges of campus or in the places in the city, the less well-known, kinda’ alternative places. They can be fun.”

“You going out optionally to a night on the town? I’m shocked.”

“Uh, no!” He protested, grinning at you. “I’ve never been for a ‘night on the town’, and I never will. However, going to one of the few small bars around here that aren’t practically a nightclub, to listen to covers of good songs and get a pint without worrying about anyone bothering me or mistaking me for my brother, that’s nice.”

“Okay, well, maybe I’ll go to one sometime.”

“You should, I think you’d have fun.” The two of you weaved between other students, the small talk keeping up between you both as he did his best, and while it was sometimes a little stuttered and stalled, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you had expected. It wasn’t until the two of you had entered the coffee shop that he fell into tight silence again. The crowds, the rush of chatter from other groups gathered around the tables, and the friendly greetings of baristas whose chit-chat diverted to him due to his allegiance with you.

“What are you drinking? My treat.”

“Uh, just a black coffee.” He choked out, eyes flicking over all the boards, so many options up there, and you chuckled.

“Really, just a black coffee?”

“I’ve never really experimented. I just ordered whatever was the quickest and the easiest.” He confessed, already glancing back over his shoulder at the queue that was forming behind you both. “What would you recommend?”

“Hm, well, do you have a sweet tooth?” He only nodded, scratching around his cuticles on one hand and staring down at the flesh growing red, and you took his hand. Lowering it back down to his side, the hand formed a fist, flexed nervously, and you let it go, squeezing comfortingly first. Turning to the barista, she was still waiting patiently, and your eyes moved over the boards overhead. “Two mint and dark chocolate hot cocoas.”

“That sounds really good, actually.” He leaned down, mumbling the words into your ear to make sure you heard the quiet tone over the talk in the small coffee house.

“And, two croissants, too.” She rang it up on the machine, and you leaned in a little closer to her. “Do you have any of the warm and fresh ones straight from the oven?”

“We made a fresh batch about twenty minutes ago, they’re cooling. I’ll get them from the back for you.” She finished it with a wink, passing the card machine over to you once you’d produced your card from your wallet. Swiping it across the reader, you moved to the end of the line, and she moved away to begin preparing your order as someone else took over at the counter.

She was working, creating two beautifully constructed hot chocolates for you both. Placing them down on the counter before you, once they were garnished with chocolate sauce and whipped cream, she disappeared into the back room. Taking one of the ceramic plates with her, you were happy to see her bypass the glass cabinet with the older ones in, and only a moment later, she was coming back. Two fresh croissants on a plate, still warm and soft to the touch, and she handed those over as well.

Noah had been scouting for a place to sit, choosing which was the best one, and he carried both of the drinks while you carried the pastries, guiding you to the seat he’d chosen. It was tucked away in the back, a small loveseat sofa with a low sitting coffee table in front of it, and as soon as the paper cups were down on the surface of the table, he was dropping down into the seat.

“It feels like rush hour on the highway, but with coffee.” He mumbled, and you settled onto the couch beside him passing him his drink over, and he stared at it curiously. “What about the whipped cream. Do I eat that first? Scrape it off? Mix it in?”

“Any of the above.” You grinned, taking a wooden stirrer from the condiments tray in the middle and beginning to stir the cream into your hot chocolate. He placed it down, copying your actions, stirring slowly and trying not to spill any over the edges, but it was an impossible feat to achieve. Sticky droplets left over the edges of your cups and his, creating rings on the table that you had to mop up with tissues. “Okay, try it. This is one of my favourite orders here. It’s bitter because of the dark chocolate, but also sweet. Reminds me of you.”

“Now, that one is a backhanded compliment.” He muttered, taking a sip of the drink, and your lips rubbed together.

“Not everything is a backhanded statement, you know. I didn’t intend for it to be mean, it’s just the truth. You’re all dark and moody, but I can already tell you’re sweet on the inside.” You sipped your drink to finish your statement, and he filled the time where he didn’t know what else to say by pulling a chunk off of his croissant. Chewing on it idly, he settled back into the cushions, and you lifted your legs up to fold underneath yourself as you turned to face him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve already asked me a lot of questions today.”

“You didn’t answer many, though. You kinda’ have to give me this one.” He scowled falsely, but nodded, licking a flake of pastry from his lower lip. “Not that I think you need it, because personally, I think you’re just fine, but why are you so scared about therapy? The idea of it, anything to do with it, it makes you so closed off. Even more than usual.”

His eyes moved over the room, nervously, before scanning both you and the table, and you put your drink down, holding open palms up to him.

“No recorder, no study. I’m just curious.”

“Okay.” He sighed shakily, and slumped back. “Well, after my mom died, my dad made me and Stiles have therapy when we started acting out. We had a therapist who came to the house, and she was great, don’t get me wrong, but I hated it. I didn’t want her to tell me how to grieve or mourn, and I didn’t want her to tell me how to move on. Stiles needed all the advice he could get, but I didn’t want it. I wanted to do it my own way. Now, the idea of therapy, brings back all those feelings of sadness and pressure and stress.”

“I’m sorry, Noah.” You reached out, rubbing a hand over his shoulder, and his gaze fell to the contact. “Genuine sympathy and sorrow, not just that thing girls do that you hate.”

“Stop hanging things I’ve said over me, I don’t remember half of them. I blackout in social situations.” He grinned, moving past the moment, and you withdrew your touch.

“You know, if it makes you feel any better, I understand the nervousness of being in a study.”

“Yeah?” He picked up the rest of his croissant, a large chunk of it being eaten, as he waited for you.

“Yeah. When I moved here, I was so nervous. I was beginning to take my course and I didn’t really have any friends, and there was a senior who needed freshmen for her study.” Noah grinned, settling in for the story and sipping his drink. “She was doing a study about the difference between kids who travelled far from home for college alone as opposed to those who were still close to home, and whether it impacted social clubs, grades, all that. To be fair, it was an awesome study.”

“It sounds like it.”

You smiled, swirling the cup in your hands to gather any loose powder that may have begun to separate and gather at the bottom. “Well, I got drawn into it. She was a senior, and she was nice. I had no friends yet, I was in a flat-share with Allison and Lydia and three other girls who were all too busy getting adjusted to college themselves. So, this senior, she invited me to a party, and then another one, and suddenly people started wanting to be my friend because I was the freshman who hung out with seniors. I figured it would all drop away when her study ended and she didn’t need me anymore, but by then the whole social hierarchy had done its thing, and there I was.”

You shrugged, and Noah was hiding a shit-eating grin behind his mug. “So, you were just a little freshman lab rat, then?”

You scoffed, your laughter mixing with his, and the two of you were left in subtle amusement. His laughter was cut short, though, brought a rapid halt when a set of legs bumped against your table on the other side, followed by two more behind them.

“Hey, girl!” One of the girls on the cheer team, a lacrosse player behind her and a girl who you recognised from your psychology class texting on her phone. “Saw you over here, wanted to know what your plans for the evening were. We’re going to do some karaoke and get some food, you wanna’ come?”

Your eyes moved to Noah, whose attention was fixed on the floor again, as though the splintering wood was of utmost interest. “Maybe another time. I think we’re good here for now.”

“Oh, you sure? I think it could be super fun, you should both come.” The invitation was now extended to you both, and you shook your head at her despite it.

“Seriously, you should go, if you want to,” Noah whispered, and when you turned back to him now, he’d dared to look up, chewing on a lower lip that would go raw, but he met your gaze.

“No, I’m sure. I’m having fun here.” You held his gaze for a second longer, before turning to her, and confirming your denial, and she smiled, promising to make plans with you soon, before she was walking away. Noah was fidgeting beside you, shuffling in his seat, and you could practically feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves. “I’m serious, Noah. I’m having fun, and I’m perfectly happy here with you, right now.”

He was trying not to grin, a smile that was being bitten back on the inside of his cheek. “Well, for the record, I’m having fun too.”

“What was that?” You cupped your ear, challenging him to repeat it, even though you had heard it perfectly, and by the look on his face, he knew the game you were playing.

“I said I’m having fun. I won’t deny it.”

“Two victories in one day, for this gal. I’m breaking down all your walls, Noah Stilinski.” You poked at his cheek, and he swatted your hand away, taking a bite from your croissant as punishment, and you tried to snatch it back from him.

“Two victories, one loss. You’re not getting this croissant back, now.”

208 notes · View notes

halaboyz · 4 years ago

Text

–– PHOTOGRAPH // CHANHEE.

pairing: photographer! chanhee x fem! reader genre: fluff, bffs to lovers word count: 2k warnings // notes: profanities, cliche, cheesy things and shitty effort of making lines ;; happiest birthday to our choi chanhee!! may he be blessed for his heart full of love <3

"You're coming to my exhibit, right?" He said as he hands you one of the tickets, and you chuckling because of the name of his exhibit.

"What kind of name is this?" You stifled a laugh, "My Art Speaks Words I Want to Deliver to You,"

Chanhee watches you hold on to dear life as you burst out laughing, wiping the tears that have escaped your eyes.

"Well, if only the linguistic major here helped me pick out some words I don't even know exists," He glares at you, "Then maybe we could've picked a better name, am I right?" He rolls his eyes as you calmed down, finally taking a seat beside him on the couch.

“Okay, okay Mr. grumpy, I’m sorry,” You said between laughter. Looking at the time and date, you nod, your smile slowly fading to a frown.

“What’s wrong? You can’t come again?” He frowns with you, a pout coming out of his lips. Your heart broke by the sight, knowing that even if he had hundreds of exhibits already, you haven’t come to one because of work.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna have to miss this one too,” You tackled him into a hug. “I have a very important meeting set by last minute,” You mumbled against the crook of his neck, causing him to whine.

“I was so sure you’d go to this one though..” You hear him mumble, as a sigh came out.

“How are you so sure?” You raised your eyebrows at him, sitting up.

“I checked your schedule!” He exclaimed, getting the ticket from you. “I can’t help it. You always have work when I handle an exhibit and wow, are you still my best friend?” He dramatically stands up, making his way to the other couch in front of you.

“Aw,” You whined, tailing him and throwing yourself at him again making him groan. “Give me that,” You reach for the ticket, only to be pulled by Chanhee again.

“Can’t you just cancel it?” He pouts, looking desperate.

“Look, I’m not the client. I can’t just cancel whenever,” You pressed his cheeks together, wiggling his face. “But give me the ticket. If they can set meetings last minute, they might cancel things last minute too. We’ll never know,” You reached higher, grabbing the ticket.

Chanhee huffed, making you lose your footing and it all happened so fast, you instinctively put out your elbow to support your fall– well, on the floor. You didn’t know Chanhee had that goddamn fast reflexes as he pulls you close to him, making you elbow his.. danger zone.

You shrieked as chanhee silently suffers, his face saying it all.

“Oh my fucking god..” You muttered, pressing your lips to a thin line to stop yourself from bursting in laughter.

Chanhee lets out a small groan as you slowly remove your elbows, your face mirroring Chanhee’s pained face.

“I’m so sorry,” You mumble, letting out a small laugh.

“I’d kill you if you laugh right in front of me,” He sighs out, crouching and wriggled his body all over the couch.

You were red. Oh, no. Not because of what just happened, but because you were stopping yourself from laughing. You knew Chanhee meant every word he said.

“You should fucking go at my exhibit after busting my balls,” He mumbled against the throw pillow.

“Hey! Not my fault you pulled me!”

You were redder. Oh, no. Not because you were now suppressing your laughter, but how you remembered how close Chanhee was to you just minutes ago if it weren’t for his unfortunate luck.

He suddenly stands up, wincing.

“Are you kidding me?! If it weren’t for me, you’re injured and crying and we’re probably on the way to the hospital right now!” He sighs out, the pain finally fading second by second.

You fanned yourself, trying to focus on what your friend was saying.

“Anyways,” You shake your head. “I’ll do my best.” You smile at him apologetically before sticking out your tongue, and ending the night while getting tackled by Chanhee– as if he was possessed by Changmin.

You bounced your feet continuously, waiting for your client. You just prayed for it to be really, really short to get to Chanhee’s exhibition.

You knew how important this was to him, and it broke your heart that as his best friend, you can’t even go to one.

Or was it because you’re starting to see Chanhee in a whole, different light?

There are a few times that your heart thumped abnormally at the sight of Chanhee frowning, and you can’t put your finger on which emotion was it. Did it hurt you because you were his best friend and you can’t go, or did it hurt because you were still a best friend? Either way, if it were the latter, if you were his girlfriend– no, you didn’t deserve him.

You can’t even make time for him as a best friend, how’d you do if you were his?

Starting to overthink, you were thankful by the sound of your phone rang for a second, signaling a message.

chanhee: go or this friendship is over. grr sent 3:35pm

You knew he was joking. Partly, you guess. Or maybe not. You suddenly became nervous, your feet bouncing doubled. You sip on the drink, you had twenty-five minutes left to run over his exhibit, but the client–

You jump as your phone suddenly rang, making you tremble. Your client was finally calling, after being late for fifteen minutes already.

And oh my god, your heart could have burst from the news. You hailed a taxi as fast as you can, and the smile on your face can’t stop rising.

Finally. You were finally getting to see his exhibit.

You smile more at the thought, more to expect of Chanhee’s reaction. You felt nervous, excited, and giddy. It wasn’t the first time seeing Chanhee’s works, as he’d been part of the photography club since college, but it still made you excited and proud of what he’s become.

You sighed in relief as you look outside, the big name– My Art Speaks Words I Want to Deliver to You welcoming you.

3:50.

Ten minutes. You just need to run, no biggie.

“Hi, I’m uh.. Chanhee’s friend.” You smile at the guard, handing him your ticket while still trying to catch your breath.

“Oh! You’re! You’re! You’re the friend!” He exclaimed, excitedly opening the door for you. “You’re just in time! Well, technically, you’re.. running a bit late but! Doesn’t matter. You’re finally here!” You just look at him confusingly, nodding your head as you roam your eyes on the big place.

Your heartbeat is twice as fast more than running.

You felt combusting quite literally. Your eyes wandered to each picture, letting it sink in that those in the pictures..

Were you.

It was all you.

There were only a few people left, smiling as they take in every photograph that wasn’t even them.

“These are so sweet. The name of the exhibit literally says it all,” A woman in her middle 30s, you guess, said as she clung to her probably husband’s arm.

“It does. The photographer’s indeed talented. Even makes me giddy,” You chuckle as you eavesdropped, reverting your attention back to the pictures.

All was black and white.

But it didn’t matter.

What colored his world was you– it has always been you.

A black and white picture doesn’t do justice to how much light you bring to his dull world, it was just you that he needed in order to make a simple black and white picture to be beautiful.

Your smile. It was one of the things he loved seeing, he loved taking a picture of. It made everyone around you smile too, and it made him upset that it wasn’t just him making you smile.

Your hair, how every single hairstyle suits you, how it flows across your face, and how you always brush it back when it frustratingly gets in your face. One of his favorites and loved taking a picture of it along with the pout on your face.

Your eyes, which spoke a thousand words and held millions of stars and also one of the millions of things he loved about you, and seeing it on a picture didn’t make sense as you needed to see it in person to make you feel butterflies on your stomach.

Every move you did was captured on his camera, and you didn’t even realize the tears have already gone out of your eyes.

He made you beautiful.

He made you feel beautiful,

Because you always were.

You didn’t need to be pretty in everybody’s eyes, you just needed him.

You were already in the last picture, and oh were you certain chanhee wasn’t the one who took this. You felt thankful enough Changmin, your other friend, had quite the skills in taking pictures too because this.. was just perfect.

You didn’t need to be pretty in everybody’s eyes, you just needed him. Because he is what completed you.

It was a picture taken afar of you sleeping in the library on one of your college days, and Chanhee was supporting his head with his palm, looking– just looking at you with heart eyes.

“Oh my fucking god,” You sighed out, crouching as you messily wiped your tears away, though it still kept on spilling.

“You’re finally here.” That sweet, familiar voice that enchanted you sighed out, from the corner of the four-walled place. He was leaning on the wall, looking as if he had finally had the burden out of his chest. “So, what do you think?”

Just like the pictures, you didn’t need words. You just throw yourself at him, nuzzling against his neck as you cried like a baby.

He sighs out again, relieved, as he buried himself more to you and engulfing each other’s warmth. His hands continued to calm you down by caressing your back, and you tried your best to stop crying.

Chanhee pulls back, taking your face to his hands and wiping your tears away.

“Hey, look at me,” He leans closer to you, lifting your face up softly. “If you didn’t get the whole point of this exhibition then.. I might just smack you in the face.”

You let out a small defeated laugh, wiping the tears yourself.

“I love you too if that was what it meant.” You look at him straight in the eyes, slouching your shoulders. You took his face into your hands too, pressing your lips softly in his.

He smiled in the kiss, his hands making their way to your neck as he kisses you back.

More than perfect.

The moment you were both out of breath, you break the kiss but let your foreheads linger with each other, smiles on your faces.

“Just.. how many times have you tried doing this?” You whisper, taking ahold of his hand and intertwining your fingers.

You pull him in front of the last picture you’ve seen, now clear as ever without your tears on the way.

“Oh, I think out of my hundred and fifty exhibits you missed,” You roll your eyes, the sarcasm his voice spilling. “It's my 98th try. That’s why I really needed you to come.” He looks at you, thinking it was much better seeing you in person rather than just a photograph– as if it's like the first time seeing you all over again.

“And if I didn’t come? Would you really have the guts to break this friendship?” You face him back, taking his other hand.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant I’d take it in my own hands and just.. straight up confess.” He craned his head sideward, challenging you.

“I’d been feeling very weird these days too, I just realized how much I am so in love with you if it weren’t for your art speaks words I want to deliver to me,” You chuckle, making him throw his head back.

Perfect.

Chanhee loved everything about photography, and he loved photography because it’s able to take what’s beautiful and he can cherish it forever. He loved it because not only it can take pictures of his friends, or nature, or what he found beautiful and calming, but it has the power to turn everything into a memory he can keep. He loved photography, he loved taking a picture of you, he loved you.

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dokoni-mo · 4 years ago

Text

Where Is My Friend || Platonic! Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Summary: You and Izuku walk home together.

SFW // angst to light fluff

Word Count: 1915

WARNINGS: swearing, crying, all might slander, allusions to su*cide, otherwise none

A/N: i hate all might as a teacher. sometimes i just wanna reach through the screen and punch him for the things he tells izuku to do. this is why i made this.

Izuku was late again that day, and this time you were more disappointed than mad.

With each student that passed by you and through the gates, you grew more and more irritated. You were trying to hide your annoyed expression by burying it in your phone, scrolling mindlessly through the various apps you had downloaded. Every now and again, you would check through your messages again, double and triple checking that you hadn't somehow missed a text from Izuku.

Every time, there was nothing.

Your brow furrowed when you checked it for the fifth time, forcing you to let out a silent frustrated sigh.

Izu, are you ready to go?

I'm out front

Are you still coming?

Hellloooo??? Where are you???

You promised, Izuku.

All of these messages, and no reply.

This wasn't a new occurrence. Every single day it was like this, and you would oftentimes just go home alone in silence. Izuku would always call and text to apologize to you afterwards, though.

At first you would pick up the phone. But, it slowly became less and less, to eventually nothing at all.

You were angry for a long time, but it all eventually boiled down into a soft, quiet frustration. You wondered to yourself a lot why you even bothered trying anymore. Those thoughts eventually drifted off into memories of middle school, and that quiet, timid, nerdy boy that you made your best friend.

You wondered where that boy went.

You looked up from your phone and looked at the campus around you. The area was bathed in an orange light, giving everything a warm and cozy glow. It was a beautiful spring afternoon, one that you would unfortunately most likely spend alone. Looking back down at your phone, you checked the time. It was getting somewhat late, and you knew your parents would start to worry about you if you didn't head back soon.

Five more minutes. You would give him five more minutes.

Letting out another sigh through your nose, you continued to scroll through your apps, not paying too close attention to what you were seeing. Every other second, you would peer up at the top of the screen, hoping to see the familiar bar of a notification up there.

None ever came.

A handful of photos and news articles later, and you decided to call it a quits. It had been more than five minutes, and there was still no sign of Izuku. Not one single thing.

Fuck it. You were going home.

Clicking your phone to sleep and putting it in your jacket pocket, you squared your backpack on your shoulders and stepped down the stairs of the front entrance, staring ahead at the gate with a blank expression.

Going to U.A. was you and his dream as kids. You remembered how the two of you would draw pictures of your hero costumes together, how you would spend hours of the phone coming up with the ideal schedule the two of you would have and what classes you would take.

Where did all that go? All those late nights? All those days the two of you got bullied? All those times you would tell Bakugou to fuck off when he was mean to Izuku? All the times Izuku told you to be nicer to Kacchan?

Was it all for nothing?

Were you just a memory now?

Were you not good enough to be his friend anymore?

All because of his new quirk?

It's not fair.

Not fair.

Not fai-

"Y/N!" you heard a voice from behind you shout, along with the rapid tapping of shoes against concrete.

It was him.

You stopped in your tracks and turned around, looking at him with a somewhat surprised expression. His green hair was the usual mess, and he was somewhat sweatier than normal. He ran quickly to catch up with you, breathing heavily once he was by your side.

You looked down at him in silence, your face unchanging.

"I'm-I'm so sorry I'm late!" He exclaimed, getting better control over his breathing, "I-I was just taking off my costume after hero training today and one of the teachers wanted to talk to me after and I-"

"It's getting late." You said, cutting him off, "We should get going."

You started to walk towards the gate again, and Izuku stared at you with a somewhat confused expression.

"Right..." he responded quietly, following by your side.

The two of you walked in silence for a good, long while. Izuku would keep looking at you to try and grab your attention, but you ignored him every time. You kept your gaze trained on your feet on the sidewalk, his red shoes in your peripheral.

You didn't want to talk. You just wanted to go home.

Go home and never talk to anyone again.

Izuku tried giving you one of his bright, warm smiles, but you ignored that too. As much as you didn't want to admit it, Izuku didn't smile the same anymore. There was something always behind his smile, something that you couldn't quite figure out.

The two of you used to share everything together, and now he was doing nothing but keeping secrets from you. You were quick to notice this, and you began to do your own digging.

You were observant, you always had been.

What you saw, you knew no one would believe you, though.

You just kept it to yourself, leaving it to rot deep inside you and plant its seeds of bad.

It was eating you alive, and you were angry.

"It's uhh..." Izuku said next to you, "It's a pretty day outside, isn't it?"

You said nothing and just kept staring down at your feet.

"It was a fun day at school too, huh?"

Nothing.

"What class did you like most?" I really liked Mr. Aizawa's today. I like it when he tells stories about his time at U.A."

Nothing.

"I also really liked All Might's cla-"

"Don't."

Izuku was definitely taken aback by your sudden, harsh response, his smile instantly fading away and his brows arching downwards.

"What... (Y/N), wh-what do you mean-"

You stopped walking abruptly, giving Izuku a glare through your lashes.

"Do not mention that man."

Izuku stopped walking too, looking at you with confusion and a touch of shock.

"You mean All Might? (Y/N), why? I thought you loved him as much as I-"

"I don't fucking love him anymore, Izuku!" you snapped, "But how would you know, huh? HOW?"

"(Y/N), what are you saying?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Izuku!" you threw your backpack off your shoulders, the extra weight only adding to your fury, "Even before we got into this shitty fucking school, you've done nothing but fucking blow me off and ignore me! I try to call, you don't answer. I try to text, you don't answer. I go over to your fucking house looking for you, and you're not there either! Do you have any clue how fucking lonely that makes me feel?! Knowing my best friend, my ONLY friend, wants nothing to do with me?!"

Izuku slid off his backpack too, his expression now more worried than anything, "(Y/N), I wasn't trying to ignore you. I-I just-"

"Just what Izuku. Just where have you been, hm? Tell me."

The green haired boy's gaze fell to the ground.

"I... I can't."

You raised your hands up and let them drop to your sides, a laugh of disbelief bubbling out of your throat.

"Fine, I'll finish it for you. You've been hanging out with fucking All Might, haven't you?"

Izuku's gaze shot back up to you, his eyes wide. He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

"Ah- don't even goddamn try. I know you have been, Izuku. Do you think I'm fucking stupid? Do you think I'm fucking naieve? I fucking see how you two talk to each other. How you have lunch with him every goddamned fucking day. How he always focuses on you during training. How he keeps you after school."

Izuku just simply looked at you in silence, trying to process what to say.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, but you decided to continue anyway, "And I know, I know he's been putting shit in your head. Not letting you think for yourself, telling you that it's okay to hurt yourself. How it's noble and honorable to be bedridden for fucking weeks to save people. How you should never prioritize yourself. Well goddamn it it's WRONG Izuku! It's fucking wrong! It's wrong to tell a kid that. It's wrong to take him away from his friends. It's wrong to have fucking favorites!"

You were full on crying now, and probably looked completely out of your goddamned mind.

You didn't care.

"He was my hero too, Izuku!" you continued on, hot tears pouring down your face, "But more importantly you were my hero! You were the only person in that shitty fucking middle school that I could confide in. You were the only friend I had, and that fucking bitch took you from me! Every day I go home and beg for my friend to come back to me. I don't give a single fuck what that old man says, I need my friend back! I'm so tired of it! I'm tired of feeling like nothing, like no one wants to be around me anymore! I'm t-tired, I'm... I...."

Unable to keep yourself together anymore, you fell onto your knees and sat back on your ankles, wiping your face on the back of your hands and wrists as you sobbed.

"I just... I miss you, Izuku."

You broke down again after that, crying there on the ground for a good minute. This was probably embarrassing the hell out of you, but you didn't care anymore. You didn't care about anything anymore. You were certain that Izuku would want nothing to do with you anymore. You just both dissed him and his number one idol.

There was no hope for you and him now.

After sitting there for a good minute bawling your eyes out, Izuku gently knelt down in front of you. You could feel his big, green eyes on your face, but you didn't look up at him. From your blurred vision, you couldn't tell how he was looking at you, but you figured it couldn't be good.

You were wrong.

Suddenly and without warning, you felt two strong arms wrap around your fame, your head being pulled into a chest covered with a uniform shirt and tie. Your cries softening, you were quick to realize who they all belonged to.

Izuku.

"(Y/N)," he said, his voice soft but firm, "I didn't know you felt that way. You are my best friend, too. I didn't mean to forget about you. I was never trying to make you feel that way."

Izuku hugged you tighter, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"From now on, I promise I'll always make time for you. You're my hero too, (Y/N). Without you with me in middle school, I... I would have..."

You didn't need to hear him finish for you to connect the dots.

After along moment of fleeting, renowned silence, you wrapped your arms around the boy, holding him tight against you.

You vowed to yourself then and there, that you would never ever let him go again.

#bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #izuku x y/n #izuku x reader #izuku x you #izuku midoria x reader #izuku midoriya x reader

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ssamie · 4 years ago

Text

six. “friends die together”

kozume kenma x fem dazai!reader

(bsd x hq)

tw: mentions of suicide

masterlist. suicide freak!

kenma slowly opened his eyes. the dim rays of the sun were slowly peeking through his bedroom window as he stretched and rolled around his bed, wrapping himself up in a blanket burrito as he felt his eyes slowly fluttering close once again.

it had been atleast a week since he's actually gotten sleep, and now he's just trying to relish in the feeling of rest before he completely disregards it again.

all of a sudden, his phone rang.

"what the.." he mumbled with a groan

it was currently five in the morning, and he knew kuroo was smart enough not to call him. especially since kenma would usually just be gaming or would just straight up ignore him.

"hello?" he muttered to the phone, not bothering to check the ID

"good morning!" y/n's chirpy la-di-da voice resonated from the phone

immediately, kenma groaned and rolled his eyes. he had to fight the urge of hanging up the phone then and there.

"what do you want? and why are you calling me so early in the morning?" kenma asked

"now, now! don't be so stingy kenma-kun!" she laughed "i just wanted to check up on ya, that's all" she said, followed by soft humming of a melody

kenma blinked as he groggily listened to her words. "oh. okay.."

"thanks for that, i guess.." he said

"aww! your voice is all deep and gravelly in the morning! very hot." she chirped

kenma sighed. he could practically sense the stupid flirty smile appearing on her face. "and you sound oh so happy. as always." kenma chirped back sarcastically

a small smile grazed his lips as she started laughing on the other line.

"oh, kenma! you're so funny!" she chuckled "when have i ever been happy?"

"wait what-"

"anyways, kenma-kun.." she trailed off, her cheerful tone now dropped as an eerily serious and guarded one replaced it.

"y-yes?" kenma gulped

"im afraid im in a tight spot as we speak. its quite critical. please come to the location i will send you." she spoke in a monotonous tone

"huh? wait!" kenma exclaimed. he sat up on his bed, subconsciously reaching for his nekoma jacket which was messily laid out on the foot of his bed. "what are you talking about?" he asked, his hands were shaking, as well as his voice.

"its a crisis! only you can help!" she said

"okay. i-i'll be there.."

humming under her breath, y/n patiently waited for kenma to arrive. she didn't have so much faith at first, but once she heard the soft thumping of feet on the ground, she grinned.

"w-what happened?" kenma asked through ragged breaths as he skidded to a halt infront of her "a-and what are you wearing?" kenma asked

he took notice of her rather formal attire, laying underneath the sand colored coat she had. his brows then shot up as he calmed his ragged breathing.

"is this because of your weird detective work thing? did you get trapped?" kenma asked worriedly. when she didn't answer, he simply panicked even more. "why did you call me?! you should've called those other detective people!" kenma exclaimed

"i got in myself" she admitted with a small innocent smile

"what?" kenma deadpanned, now starting to regret running atleast eight blocks just to help her

"well, you see.. i heard there's a way to commit suicide by getting stuck in an oil drum. so i decided to give it a shot" she said with the same innocent smile. she then chuckled sheepishly as she started sinking deeper into the oil drum.

"but now that i've wedged myself in this deep, i can't get out on my own" she said

kenma simply stared her down, looking unamused, tired and annoyed. "i see." he says

"i think i might die" she pouted as she sank deeper into the drum.

kenma grunted and sat on the ground, sitting a few feet from the drum she was stuck in. he was kind of impressed on how her whole body hadn't snapped in two yet.

"well, isn't that what you wanted?" kenma said with a huff of annoyance

"i like suicide" she said with a scoff, sounding somewhat offended "but i don't like suffering and pain! why would i?"

"i see" kenma said with a sigh. he sat up from the ground and narrowed his eyes, trying to look for a way to free her from the oil drum

"also, i learned this only after i stuffed myself in here, but it wasn't even a suicide method!" she laughed

"but, it was actually a torture method from the-"

before she could even finish her sentence, she was cut off as kenma pushed the oil drum over, sending her and the drum rolling off. he let out a huge breath of air as he cradled his aching hands.

"ni-nice job, kenma-kun" she squeaked out as she wiggled free of the drum. "but now.. we have only an hour left before school starts" she said as she patted down her clothes and combed her fingers through her hair

"and i heard from nekomata-san that he has some news that you boys would surely love" she said as she stretched her aching muscles

"are we really gonna move past the fact that you wedged yourself in an oil drum!?" kenma exclaimed in aggravation

". . ." she looked at him with a dumb smile before sending him a wink and a thumbs up.

"yep! we sure are!"

"i hate you so much" kenma muttered

she smirked teasingly and loomed over his shoulder "hehehe~ well if you hate me so much, then why go through all the trouble to help me?" she cooed

kenma scoffed and flicked her away. "because we're.." he trailed off "nevermind.." a small blush covered his cheeks faintly, but it was enough to get her attention.

she chuckled lowly and poked his cheeks. she narrowed her eyes and tauntingly stared him down. "oya? what's this, kenma-kun? do you like me or something?~" she teased

kenma flinched and covered his cheeks with his hands "no! no i don't!" he quickly denied "i just thought that.." he muttered quietly

"since we're friends and all.. i thought it'd be right to help you.." kenma admitted bashfully

stunned from his words, she couldn't really do anything but stare at him blankly with widened eyes. "we're friends?" she asked

kenma spluttered at her response, suddenly feeling anxious and embarrassed, thinking that he overstepped their 'relationship'

"um- i mean.. i just thought that since we've been hanging out but.." kenma said nervously. he fiddled with his hands as he looked down at his feet, too embarrassed to look her in the eyes.

"sorry, i guess i overstepped. sorry for misreading things" he apologised

finally realising what she's done, she gasped in horror as she looked at his heartbroken expression "oh my gosh." she muttered "im so sorry!"

she frantically patted his back, and stroked his hair "i-i meant like- i didnt know you considered me as a friend!" she exclaimed "i kind of thought you just see me as a suicidal leech or something!" she shrieked

"im sorry kenma! kill me now!" she exclaimed dramatically

kenma finally looked up to see her tearing some of her bandages off, only for her to tie it tightly around her neck.

"im sorry!" she cried as she squeezed tightly, trying to strangle herself to death

"wait! don't do that!" kenma said in panic. his hands pried the bandages off and hastily threw them away.

"you don't have to kill yourself over me" kenma sighed

she sniffled and crushed him in her arms "kenma! you are most certainly my most treasured friend!" she cried

"i would die for you and with you!"

"let's not go too far" kenma said with a small smile

"shall we start with the double suicide now?" she asks, fully ignoring his interjection

"no <3"

"fukurodani?" she muttered, looking quite confused and clueless

"yes. it seems a three-day practice match has been scheduled" nekomata said with a smile "their coach suggested the idea and who was i to decline, am i right?" nekomata chuckled

"this will be a good opportunity for the team to train and explore new ways of playing for future tournaments." nekomata then looked at y/n and sent her a close eyed smile. "and a chance for you to test your managing skills, y/n-san" he said

she nodded in agreement.

"well then, now that that's settled.. you’re free to go! rest up and eat well! you'll be playing nonstop starting tomorrow" nekomata said as he ushered them out of the gym

"thanks, coach!" the team yelled

as the team arrives by the gate, they started to disperse. fukunaga, inouka, teshiro, and shibayama ended up declining the offer of an afterschool hangout. they claimed they needed the rest for upcoming games, so they left them be.

"bye guys! bye y/n-senpai! see you tomorrow!!" inouka yelled from across the street. the energetic first year was waving both his arms around while shibayama drags him along. fukunaga sends them a quick nod and a small wave before they completely disappear from sight.

"hm, so what do you guys wanna do?" kai asks with a smile

"let's eat!" lev suggested with a grin

"sure. where should we go? i don't really have a particular craving right now" kai said as he looked at his friends expectantly

"we should eat at the diner near that convenience store" yaku says "it's cheap and they serve great food"

simply humming to herself, y/n takes a quick look at the boys who seemed to be lost in their own conversations. her (e/c) colored eyes then landed on kenma, who seemed to busy with his game.

kuroo was holding on his bag, making sure the pudding-head wouldn't walk into oncoming traffic. she smiled at the boy, taking in his overwhelmingly beautiful features.

yamamoto was beside her, ranting about his friends from karasuno and their 'goddess of a manager'

"we’re here!" lev unnecessarily announced as he skipped into the said diner. "what should we eat?" he asks

"fish-" ; "meat-"

yaku and kuroo freeze and look at each other. their eyes silently roam one another as they look at the other with judgment.

"hah? are we really doing this again, yakkun?" kuroo scowled. the taller bedheaded male leaned down to get all up in yaku's face, while the latter simply did the same

"dont call me that stupid nickname, bedhead!" yaku scowled as well "and fish? pssh, what are you a grandpa?" yaku said with a snicker

"could you stop making comments proving you lack docosahexaenoic acid?" kuroo sneered in aggravation

"you're ought to eat more fish to fix that.. maybe even your height problem!" kuroo taunted

yaku scowled and gripped the taller boy's collar "your stupid face is begging to be hit!"

"no! kuroo-san, don't let him hit you!" lev yelled "he's feral!"

"oi! shut up!" taketora hissed as he covered lev's mouth with his hand

yaku turned to face lev, evidently irked and angered by his comment. "hah?! come here, you tall lampost! -"

"wah! yaku-san i didnt even do anything!" lev exclaimed with teary eyes as the shorter boy continued to kick him

kai and taketora then took initiative to calm their friends down. partially because they didn't want anyone injured. but mostly because they were fighting infront of the diner, and it was starting to get embarrassing.

"ke-n-ma~" she cooed in a sing song tone

kenma sighed and quickly glanced at her, before averting his attention back to his game "what?" he said

she smiled and laced their arms together. she then pointed to a bridge not so far away from where they were standing. "you see that bridge?" she asked "and the pretty river under it?"

"oh god. i see where this is going." kenma groaned. he turned off his game and followed her finger, eyeing the bridge she was talking about.

"wouldn't it be so nice if we just jump off-"

"how about we don't do that?" kenma cut her off with a sigh

"but you're my friend right?" she whined childishly "don't friends die together?!"

"how about we don't die at all. doesn't that sound better?" kenma tried to convince her with a sheepish smile

her smile fell as she narrowed his eyes, seemingly disgusted and offended by his statement.

"what? no, not at all."

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dat-town · 4 years ago

Text

colour the world with you

Characters: Yeonjun & You

Genre: fluff

Setting: witch shop au

Summary: The crazy hair coloured guy working at the witch shop where your grandma has you run errands for her keeps getting on your nerves.

Words: 3.7k

Author’s note: title is from TXT’s Your Light

For @restlessmaknae to fill your holidays with colours, smiles and happiness.

You told yourself you weren't a believer. People talked about magic as if they had seen it happen but you were doubtful, even when your weak grandma asked you to get a potion for her. When doctors couldn't help, she always turned to alternative methods even though you thought just taking her pills could have helped her. But no, she insisted, put the money into your hands and told you to ask for Han halmeoni's usual. You gritted your teeth but despite not saying it, you were upset how people out there could take advantage of naive elders with their expensive fake herb drinks. Though, you knew better than anyone that arguing with your grandma wouldn't have led anywhere since she was just as stubborn as you. So you agreed with a smile and promised you would get the potion the next day.

Finding the shop called Magic Island – what an obnoxious name for real – was easier than you thought. Witchcraft wasn't hunted or looked down upon as it used to be but you really didn't expect to find it between a coffee shop and a bookstore. From outside it seemed like any other store with its glass windows though it was more colourful and lively than most due to the flowers by the door and the dreamcatcher on the door. You double checked the name and the address then tentatively pressed down on the handle.

As soon as you crossed the threshold, the smell of herbs and spices, burning candle scents and warmth hit you in waves. The whole place gave off a very soothing and welcoming vibe and while the interior was even more colourful than the outside, nothing stood out as much as the vivid blue hair of the guy behind the counter.

"Hello, how can I help you?" he inquired, voice mellow and smile kind. The thin, light blue sweater he wore showed a bit of one of his collarbones and the dangling earring he had in one ear had small blue stones in it. You felt like you had never seen anybody like him.

"I came to pick up something for my grandma, Han halmeoni's usual potion," you recited the rehearsed speech before you could have blurted out something rude. At the mention of your granny, the cashier boy's eyes lit up and he smiled wider.

"Ah, just a minute," he excused himself and leaned down, opening small cabinets full of folies and cans under the counter until he found the glass of the thick green liquid. "Is halmeoni alright though? Has her knee been acting up again?" he asked while he rang up the product and you shouldn't have been surprised that your grandma probably told him about all her life.

"It's her waist this time," you said curtly, wanting to get over the payment as soon as possible. But even after the machine beeped accepting your credit card, the boy with his crazy hair switched on his employee of the mouth smile and kept you there with his rambling:

"It seems like you're quite stressed and anxious recently. Wouldn't you like some chamomile-lavender tea? Or we have a peppermint-citrus cream for headaches, too or–"

"I'm fine," you cut him off not too nicely. Argh... you hated when cashiers were so noisy and he even acted like he knew you just because you weren't in a good mood today but that had nothing to do with your usual exam stress. He couldn't have known about that anyway. And as if some cream would have helped!

The next time you saw the boy he had yellow locks. The unnatural, bright yellow like the fermented radish you liked so much with your traditional Korean dishes. Of course, you didn't go to his shop out of boredom or happiness but for your grandmother's sake you didn't want her to travel across half the city just to get her favourite tea leaves for better digestion. It had been about two months since you had visited the colourful shop, so the changes shouldn't have taken you so aback – after all every shop was usually decorated according to the season – and yet, for a moment you just stood there in the bright warmth of the sunlit room full of buttercups and sunflowers. It almost seemed like the same cashier guy as last time had a hair colour to fit the enterieur but that sounded a bit too ridiculous. Who would have dyed their hair because of their workplace's new decoration? Though who worked at a witch shop in the first place?

"Hi! How can I help you today?" the boy, Yeonjun according to his name tag, flashed a beaming smile at you. He seemed really giddy all the time, maybe being surrounded by all these herbs all day long did something to his brain… or maybe got him high.

"I would like to have a packet of Island of Calm tea," you told him straight, wanting to make it a real quick in and out.

"Ah, for your grandma? I'm glad it helps her," the boy smiled at you sweetly and started humming an annoyingly cheerful song while preparing the packet neatly. He wrapped it up, put on a sticker with good wishes before he would have turned to the cashier machine.

You had already prepared with your wallet but instead of letting you know the price, this Yeonjun guy decided to play with your nerves.

"Sorry about the other day if I came off too strong. We have amulets too if you prefer…"

You slammed down the money on the counter, grabbed the tea and turned to walk out on him before he could have finished that. But...

"It will rain today. Take an umbrella," he shouted after you which only made you snicker.

Hah, who was this guy? He should have minded his own business! The weather forecast didn't say anything about rain anyways.

"I'm fine," you bit at him and walked out.

It didn't even take 10 minutes though for you to get soaking wet in a sudden summer downpour. Under your breath you kept cursing the guy from the magic shop although he had nothing to do with the rain. He just had a good guess.

You really didn't want to go back to the shop. It gave you the chills, like that uneasiness in the stomach that made you want to throw up. You didn't want to go back because you didn't want to hear that crazy hair coloured guy's unwanted preaching about your stress level. You might have been a bit on the edge these days but you were okay, you could handle it. Even if you wished your group partners to Hell sometimes because they couldn't even answer your questions about the schedule and the presentation in your KKT group chat, even if your teacher was a pain in the ass moving the classes as he pleased as if you had nothing better to do. Even if an upcoming family gathering was unnerving you because you didn't want to hear them comparing you to your relatives. It was just a bad time, it would pass, you told yourself, nothing to whine about.

So you took a deep breath, list in hand and you raised your chin before you stepped inside the so-called magic shop. You planned ahead: going to the counter, handing over the list, pretending to get a phone call and leave. Easy and interaction-free. But the moment you stepped inside, the sight this time took your breath away. You really didn't understand how and why the store changed its interior so drastically and so frequently but this look was even more breathtaking than the ones before.

The whole place had a pink hue, it even smelled like cotton candy and everything had this rosy colour from afar. The ceiling looked like a pink sky with white cloud decorations made of cotton. The dreamcatchers and amulets hanging down all sparkled in the shade of blue hour and you forgot why you came for a moment.

"Pretty, isn't it?" A voice spoke up from beside you and only then you realised that the cashier boy wasn't behind the counter like usual but instead he was walking between the shelves in the book section, holding a few volumes in his arms. You jumped at his sudden closeness, blinking up at him surprised and it took you a moment too long to process what you had been seeing.

The guy had bright pink hair.

And it looked strangely good on him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned and only then you realised that you had been staring. At the way his locks looked against his tanned forehead. At the way he pulled his mouth into a gentle smile and suddenly you felt like the air was getting sucked out of your lungs. What the hell were you doing? Why did he suddenly have such an effect on you?

"Yeah, I'm fine," you muttered, clearing your throat, stepping away.

You walked up to the counter confidently and the boy didn't try to stop you. He didn't say anything, not even as he followed you and took your paper with the list your grandma suddenly needed after you complained to her about the nosy guy in the shop. He prepared the small box with different herbs, creams and lucky charms wordlessly which was a bit unsettling. You only met him twice before yet it seemed like it was out of character for him. But you tried not to think too much into it and just watched him work.

When Yeonjun read your total out loud for you and you handed your card to him there was something knowing in his eyes that you couldn't quite put a finger on.

"You know you should really stop saying you're fine when you aren't," he spoke up finally when he gave you back the plastic but instead of letting it go, he looked down on your hand intently. Not understanding the reason behind it you followed his gaze and saw that you managed to cut your finger earlier with the paper when you got startled. You didn't even feel it up until then even though it drew a bit of blood, a few drops drying on your index finger.

"Let me," the boy muttered as he let go and looked around on a shelf not far from the counter.

"It's nothing really," you protested but you felt bad because he shouldn't have been worried about you just because it was him who got you scared. You should have paid more attention.

"It could get infected," he reasoned as he got back with some lotion in a small capsule. He took your hand, gentle and you realised that his hands were soft despite the calluses on his fingertips. Not to mention, it was endearing how attentive he was, even sticking out his tongue a bit in concentration as he put a plaster over the oil-coated wound.

"Thanks," you breathed not really knowing what else you could say and you couldn't even anymore, not with the way he smiled at you, warm like the Sun and soothing like spring breezes.

As you were leaving you couldn't help but think that the way he said those words about you pretending to be okay was about more than just your scar. Maybe he had a great sense for such things.

It was not until you got home that you noticed the extra object in the packet you bought at the shop. You even double-checked with your grandma's list but a scent bag of herbs for better sleeping weren't on that and you didn't even pay for that, so how?

The answer was ridiculously easy: the cashier guy must have sneaked it into your bag, yet you didn't get his reason and why he always tried to have a say in your life but then you looked down on the cute pink plaster on your finger and decided to accept the gift. Even though you didn't believe in it, you put it under your pillow for the night like you were instructed. You almost forgot about it because by the time it was bedtime for you your head was full of unnecessary drama and thoughts that were driving you crazy. On nights like this it was hard to fall asleep because you had too many what ifs going on inside of your head. But this time, even before you could have realised it, you were already drifting off to sleep, tense shoulders relaxing, head empty. You didn't remember when you last slept so well.

So maybe it was confusion, gratitude or the mix of those two that led you back to the Magic Island only a few days later, this time without your grandma having to make you. This time you were expecting the change of interior, so the universe-like violet colours and planets flying around (must be some kind of trick) didn't take you that aback. Yeonjun was nowhere to be seen even though the bells rang prettily above the door when you arrived.

For once, you decided to take a look around, so tentatively you wandered deeper into the store, into parts you hadn't been before. You had seen tarot cards in one corner and Ouija boards in another, there were books about ghosts and other dimensions. There was a whole section about curses and a closed off one for potions. You were reading some of the ridiculously long tea names (and why does The night when the world has burned, we are… has chilli in it anyways?) when you heard someone clear their throat. You turned around to face them but your hello died on the tip of your tongue.

Now Yeonjun's hair was purple, that dark but warm kind, like nights on which the sky seemed to embrace you.

"Does halmeoni need something else?" he looked up at you with a genuine, kind smile.

"No, I... Actually I just wanted to thank you for the scent bag," you muttered under your nose, a bit embarrassed but determined to be a bigger person and not act petty over an act of kindness.

"Did it help?" Yeonjun's eyes lit up immediately, straight up happily when you nodded. The smile on his face widened. "Then you're welcome."

You just stood there, uncertain, not knowing what to say or do because apparently he was well aware that he gifted you that and it seemed like he didn't expect anything in return. Not to mention that he figured out that you barely had any sleep lately and cinnamon was one of your favourite scents. Was it just a coincidence? Or did the bags under your eyes betray you like that? Was cinnamon just a lucky guess?

"How did you know?" you blurted out eventually, not getting over your internal struggle. For a moment Yeonjun just looked at you, really looked as if he tried to figure you out and he was rather tentative when he spoke up:

"You don't believe in magic, do you?"

You raised an eyebrow as if asking: seriously? at which he let out a chuckle. His laughter made such a pleasant sound!

"Well, then you could say it was just a good hunch," he shrugged and his carefree attitude made you even more curious, throwing you more recklessly into the unknown.

"And if I said I believe in it?" you wondered out loud and the cashier guy looked back at you as if it was a challenge. Maybe it was since you were interested in how he would try to convince you about magic being real.

"It's your aura," he said simply, looking at you and at the same time around you and started explaining: "It has a different energy based on your mood and well-being. It wasn't that hard to figure out based on that."

You hummed, trying to see whether your rational mind could take it as an answer but even auras and halos and such seemed too... intangible for you. Yeonjun must have sensed your hesitance because a moment later he straightened his back and tilted his head.

"It's easier to show you," he offered, waiting, patient. He must have learned that being pushy with you didn't work because the more he insisted, the more you resisted. But putting it this way: him offering a chance for you to see and believe but with no pressure, it made you halt. Because all your life you had liked certain things. You liked plans, schedules, believing in things you saw or experienced. Maybe that's why magic had always been obnoxious for you: you had met with too many liars and fakes.

You slowly, tentatively nodded.

"Close your eyes," Yeonjun smiled at you encouragingly and albeit not liking the idea of becoming vulnerable even this much, you obeyed. About five seconds passed before the boy called your name. "You can open them."

Not expecting any big change, you were at a loss of words when Yeonjun stood in front of you with silver grey hair. And not just that! The shop's interior changed in a blink of a minute, too. It was no longer purple but rather monochrome, serious, angular.

"How?" you gasped in awe.

"Magic," Yeonjun smiled and laughed at you before explaining that his mother was a witch, so he's partly one too and that the shop is enchanted, changing based on his mood or will, similarly as his hair colour. It was still unbelievable but you couldn't deny the obvious, so instead of protesting against it anymore, you threw your dozen questions at the boy to which he answered very enthusiastically.

After that afternoon, you slowly started to become a regular at Magic Island. Not only when your grandma had an errand to run but you visited the shop even when you got tired of your scent bag's type or due to another excuse. It was easy to come up with those when you had so many questions. With Yeonjun by your side guiding you through a whole new world opened up in front of you. After your uni classes, you sometimes dropped by to read a book between the shelves about auras and the harmony with nature or potions that actually worked until Yeonjun found you there. Sometimes he called you out on never buying the books but it was only a friendly, teasing banter that ended up with him inviting you over for some herb tea matching your mood (a lot of sweet strawberry and rose mint lately). On other occasions, he joined you on the floor, leaning his back onto the bookshelf too, his arm almost brushing yours as he asked about what you were currently reading about.

He also told you a lot of fun stories and while chuckling over his jokes your stomach didn't ache only due to laughter. You hated to call this feeling as 'butterflies in your stomach' but you had no better word for it and being so good at reading your aura, Yeonjun must have known, too. Yet, he didn't say anything, so you decided to take matters into your hands.

When you opened the door of the magic store on that chilly December afternoon after finally finishing with your exams before winter break, the first thing that hit you was the cinnamon and plum scent. You inhaled deeply and smiled at the Christmassy atmosphere inside the store with the festive decoration. Yeonjun must have had the holiday spirit these days, you thought and it seemed like right because the boy walked out of the storage room in a cute snowman sweater and with faded lavender coloured hair.

"Heya, how was the exam?" he turned to you with a bright smile which you couldn't help but mimic as you walked up to the other side of the counter.

"Manageable," you shrugged, happy that you were finally done with it. Then before you could have chickened out during your conversation, you blurted out: "Do you perhaps have the opposite of love potions?"

"Like an antiserum? Did someone give you a love potion?" Yeonjun wiggled his eyebrows but his tone was kind of worried. Cute, you noted.

"No but I'd like this stupid crush gone," you sighed and even grimaced for impact, watching the boy's reaction closely but he seemed more curious and a bit confused than anything.

"Why?"

"I just..." You vaguely threw your hands up and pouted which Yeonjun must have found endearing because the mischievousness was back in his glittering dark eyes and the smirk was on his lips again as he leaned provocatively closer.

"And if I like you back?" he raised an eyebrow and the confidence in his voice made your jaw drop.

The audacity!

"I'm not talking about you!" you retorted right away but more out of pride and teasing than honesty. You couldn't hide that too well from the witch boy either as his grin only widened seeing your blushed cheeks.

"Too bad," he snickered playfully, his lower lip jutting out in a sulky pout. Then he pulled back in an instant, brushing his lavender hair out of his eyes with an overdramatic sigh. "And I was about to suggest a hot chocolate date..."

"A date you say?" you breathed with a hopeful smile and rested your palms on the counter while this time it was you who leaned closer. Not that it meant a lot because with Yeonjun's height, you just had to angle your neck even more sharply. At least until he decided to scrunch down to your level, dark orbs glimmering in the colourful lights of the shop.

"That I say," he nodded and briefly looked up prompting you to do the same only to see a white mistletoe slowly growing and hanging down above you.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, mister," you flicked his forehead but giggled anyway knowing all too well that your aura must have been just as pink as your cheeks. But you didn't mind one bit, not until it was Yeonjun who made your world so colourful.

#txt scenarios #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun fluff #txt fluff #stories

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thedumpsterqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Standards of Performance, Chapter 10: Accommodations

From the Beginning, Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Thank you guys again for being so kind about the new posting schedule (or lack thereof). Your comments and messages and rbs always make me laugh and cry (in a a good way).This is just a lil chapter about them being awkward and cute after The Kiss, and introducing some bigger plot stuff. You'll wanna buckle up for the next one ;)

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: Some creep is stalking the team and all you can think about is kissing Hotch.

Words: 2059

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

The BAU had a stalker.

To put it in a way more relevant to your views on the matter: the BAU’s stalker was interfering with the (hopefully) budding spark between you and Hotch.

It wasn’t that you didn’t care that there was potentially unhinged maniac apparently obsessed with the team, it’s just that when you got the slightly panicked phone call from JJ that Morgan, Reid, Garcia, and herself had all found letters on their doorstep professing an alarming fascination with the members of the team, you couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated that the ordeal was bound to put a pause on the progress you two had made.

That is, until you went to leave your apartment in the morning and found an unassuming envelope shoved under the door. You opened it with shaking fingers to a note written on thick cardstock, scrawled in black, seeping ink as if written by an old-fashioned quill.

I’ve been paying attention to your team for some time - quite the impact you’ve made on the world of crime. The heroes of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit! I’m sure the world wishes they had you during Bundy or BTK, hm?

Anyways, I had to see for myself. I must admit, finding you was much easier than I would have anticipated given your ‘status.’ I thought I’d drop you this note to say hi and propose a deal. A Game, of sorts.

The Game goes like this: I leave you notes, and you try to catch me! Easy, yes? This is day 1. How many days until you find me?

Xoxo Talk soon,

You put the note in your bag and, after double checking your door was locked (not that the flimsy deadbolt the landlord had installed would have done much to keep an intruder out anyways), you rushed to the office. You dropped your note on the table in the conference room where the team had gathered and pointed at it tremulously.

“I got one too. I touched it, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rossi interrupted. “We dusted the others; there was nothing. I doubt yours was any different.”

Hotch plucked your letter up and scanned it quickly before tossing it back on the table. “It’s exactly the same as the others. Nothing identifiable.”

“Why didn’t we get them?” asked Prentiss.

“Access,” said Garcia, notably less cheery than usual. The team turned to her for clarification.

“You three are hard to get to,” she explained. “Hotch and Prentiss live in secure apartment buildings. Rossi has a gated property with security that can rival the President’s. Those of us who don’t live the high life are just... out in the open.”

“So that’s encouraging, right? That the unsub either couldn’t or wouldn’t go through the extra trouble of getting to all of us?” JJ asked, hopeful.

Morgan shook his head. “I dunno if you can interpret any part of what this creep is doing to intimidate us as ‘encouraging.’”

“Does it read as intimidation, though?” mused Reid.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Morgan responded. “What’s your take on the language?”

Reid took a millisecond to reread the letter and pursed his lips. “Though the language isn’t directly threatening, the concept of a game implies either winning or losing. He - it’s almost certainly a he - doesn’t mention the consequences for either situation, which could imply that there are none, but that seems unlikely. There’s also the matter of separating himself from others in line three - ‘I’m sure the world wishes they had you during Bundy or BTK,’ not we. He’s trying to distinguish himself to us in some way, which means he wants to be noticed, and I don’t think there’s anything in this language that excludes the possibility of him doing something drastic in order to be.”

“So not encouraging,” said Prentiss dryly. “The question is, why us? Is this personal; did we put someone close to him away?”

“It could be, but the language in the opening seems sarcastic almost, like he’s mocking us,” noted Rossi.

Morgan nodded in agreement. “It’s a challenge. He’s trying to tell us we’re not all we’re cracked up to be.”

The analysis worried you, because you felt you were the only member of the team for whom that statement might have been true.

“So, what then?” you asked. “Review security footage and see if we can find anything?”

“Already did!” chirped Garcia. “Hotch had me up all night reviewing the tapes.”

For the first time, you noticed the dark circles under her standard coat of heavy makeup. You looked at Hotch, expecting to find some shame in his expression, but found none.

“If there was anyone weird creeping around your dwellings last night, I didn’t see ‘em. I even looked through the street cameras in the area. Granted, none of you have a security camera pointed directly at your door, which might not be a bad idea after this -”

“Hold on,” Morgan interrupted, “you didn’t check her apartment though, right?” referring to you. “Cuz she just found it this morning?”

Garcia perked up, but you shot her down with a shake of your head. “Sorry guys, my place isn’t nearly nice enough to have security cameras.”

The team looked unperturbed by that, except for Hotch, who met your eyes with a look you couldn’t quite place.

“What do we do, then? Wait for another letter?” JJ asked.

“That’s all we can do until we have more evidence,” said Hotch, visibly frustrated. He hated waiting, you knew that. You all hated it. It felt like watching a car without its parking brake on slowly start to roll down a hill.

“If that’s all, sir…”

Hotch nodded at Garcia. “You’re all dismissed. Business as usual for now. If he craves acknowledgement, best not to give it to him unless we have to.”

The team filtered out, and you made to follow them, but before making it through the doorway, Hotch called you back. He shifted feet, cleared his throat, and looked at you.

“About the comment you made earlier,” he started.

What comment? You wracked your brain trying to remember if you’d said something rude, or something that hinted at what happened between you two, but came up short.

He noticed the puzzled look on your face and clarified. “When you said your apartment complex wasn’t nice enough to have security cameras. I wanted to say that -” he ran his hand across his jaw, clearly uncomfortable, “- I know the internship salary isn’t impressive, and if you feel you’re unable to afford safe accommodation, I’d be more than happy to talk to Strauss about -”

“Oh, God, no.” You felt as if your face was on fire. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way, my apartment is fine - I mean of course there’s things that could be improved - but in no way do I feel unsafe.”

“Well, good. Okay then.”

Before you could make your exit and spare you both from the residual awkwardness of the interaction, he spoke again. “There’s one more thing. Given that whoever wrote this note has displayed his willingness to come to our doorsteps, JJ is staying with Emily for the time being, Reid with Rossi, and Garcia with Morgan.”

You smirked at the last pairing. Leave it to those two to capitalize on a stalker to bunk up together.

“I was going to have the Bureau get you a hotel in the meantime, since he did come to your apartment, but Garcia suggested that since we live so close, you could just… stay with me.”

Holy shit.

There was a pained look on his face as he finished the sentence as if he recognized what an utterly bad idea it was, but hadn’t had the good sense to reject it himself. He looked at you, expecting an answer despite the lack of a question mark at the end of that statement, and you struggled mightily to compose yourself to deliver an acceptance that didn’t appear uncomfortably enthusiastic.

You must have taken too long, because he immediately started to retract his offer. “I already told her it was completely inappropriate; the rest of the team is used to staying together for cases but given you just started, and after the last few days I completely understand -”

“No!” You cut him off. “Sorry, no, that’s not what I was going to say at all. I’d love to. I mean, I think it’s a good idea. I’d feel a lot safer…”

‘With you around?’ Is that too much?

Fuck it.

“... with you around,” you finished, and you swear you saw him push back a smile.

“Alright, then. I’ll let Garcia know.”

You made a mental note to send that woman a thank-you card.

***

As the workday wound down, you were surprised to Hotch turn out his office light and walk out at the same time as you did.

“Early night?” you teased as you walked to your cars in the parking garage, despite it being 7 pm.

He chuckled. “It would have been rude of me to keep you hanging around until I decided to leave.”

Right. You were leaving together. Because you were going back to his apartment. Together. The undeniable domesticity of the moment put a skip in your step, and you couldn’t help but wish this was happening under different circumstances.

“So I’ll just stop by my apartment and grab my things?”

“What? No,” Hotch responded, frowning. “I’m coming with you. The whole point of all of this is to avoid being alone.”

And that’s how you ended up speeding down the highway like a madwoman, leaving Hotch in your dust, taking the stairs two at a time, and frantically scrambling to get your apartment in order. It wasn’t terrible; not as if you had rotting food sitting out or something (probably because you didn’t actually cook enough for that), but the recent caseload and spending so much time with Hotch in the mornings had certainly pushed general organization to the wayside. You shoved the growing pile of dirty laundry into your closet, straightened up the coffee table, and were in the middle of packing your suitcase when you heard a knock at the door.

Giving the apartment a quick once-over to make sure you hadn’t missed something utterly humiliating, you opened the door to an unimpressed Hotch.

“I could have pulled you over for speeding, you know,” he said as he strode into your living room.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said sheepishly, “I wanted to make sure this place wasn’t a mess the first time you saw it.”

He cocked an eyebrow and you realized how that came out - the first time, as if there were going to be many more - and you coughed and looked away.

“Anyways. I’m almost done packing, just gotta grab a couple more things.”

He nodded and you hurried to it, wanting to get him out of your apartment as quickly as possible. Normally you’d have jumped at the chance to be alone in a quiet place with him, but the way his eyes were scanning the room made you nervous that he was learning more about you in a very short amount of time than you felt entirely comfortable with.

***

You walked into Hotch’s apartment for the second time ever to find it just as clinically neat as before, except for a set of sheets and blankets laid out on the couch. Grinning, you gestured to them.

“Thought you said you were sure I would say no?”

It was his turn to be shamefaced. “Just in case. Besides,” he shot back, grabbing your bags from where you’d deposited them by the couch, “You’re taking the bed.”

“Like hell I am!” you scoffed, forgoing propriety. “I’m not making my boss sleep on the couch in his own apartment.”

“Considering I, as you mentioned, am your boss,” he responded, “I will be making that decision.”

You plopped down on the couch. “Unless I just refuse to move.”

He stood a few paces away and glared, but gave up and dropped your bags all the same.

You could have sworn you heard him mutter “brat” under his breath, but that didn’t sound like something Aaron Hotchner would say, did it?

Taglist (I got a bunch of new ones so message me if I forgot to add you!): @stop-drop-and-drumroll @criminalmindzjunkie @xoprincessmel @cevanswhre @addie5264 @klinenovakwinchester @honeyshores @violentvulgarvolatile @masumiyetimziyanoldu @violetclifford @pipersaccomplice @itsmytimetoodream @groovygoob @captainhyenafan @thebadassbitchqueen

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teaandatale · 3 years ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @geekynerddemon who so lovingly wished for me to finish Layer on Layer. And though I haven’t been able to do so, I thought I would whet your appetite with a preview of Part 1 of my 2 Part Epilogue.

Please note this is a rough draft & subject to thorough revisions when I get the writing muse under control again.

Layer on Layer: Epilogue- PART ONE

“You see one painting, I see another, […] it’ll never strike anybody the same way and the great majority of people it’ll never strike in any deep way at all but—a really great painting is fluid enough to work its way into the mind and heart through all kinds of different angles, in ways that are unique and very particular. Yours, yours. I was painted for you.” ― Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

Despite the scorching heat radiating from the sudden summer outside, Steve had turned the AC off while the sun blazed in through the windows of the loft’s living room where he’d been painting. He had his music turned up and he was humming as he worked.

Peggy had given him the custom made easel, sturdy, adjustable, gorgeous, no doubt pricey, as a gift. He’d been painting so much that Peggy had deemed it necessary he have an easel at her place, a designated space to work since he spent so much time there anyway. She had claimed is a selfish gift after he voiced concern about her being too generous, assuring him she looked forward to watching him paint from the comfort of her couch. And she often did, taking breaks from her work by watching him mix colors and paint broad strokes.

The first thing he had painted at his new easel was for her, another detailed flower arrangement, just for her.

After unveiling the final product of Ana’s anniversary painting, which reportedly made Ana cry, happy tears Jarvis assured, she had given Steve a tremendous hug and after their double date dinner, they discussed art for a long time, their significant others at their sides sipping tea opting to discuss the dessert spread instead. He’d been so happy and warm to sit there among her friends, her make-shift family, accepting and open to him. How he could possibly love Peggy more he didn’t fully understand other than that he was learning he did it with every passing day.

Not long after that, Peggy started suggesting dates at more art museums and galleries. She watched him paint and encouraged him to do it more broadly. To show his work. To do more commissions. He wasn’t sure about all that, but he did start to paint more and more. He’d started even transferring images out of his therapy journal into oils. He’d done several, even brought one in to show his art therapy group. They encouraged him to make a series, to show his stories on canvas.

Steve swirls his paintbrush into his yellows, ochres melding with browns.

He’s deep in concentration getting her warm brown eyes just right, the right shade, the touch of a knowing glimmer in them. He remembers the first time they locked eyes, across her bedroom, just down the hall from where he stood right then.

He’s so deep in concentration, he doesn’t think twice at the sound of the front door opening and then when he hears footsteps approaching.

“Hey Peg, aren’t you late?” he asks distractedly without looking up.

“She sure is,” a voice that’s not Peggy’s startles him. He nearly drops his palette, tipping it over and paint gets on his bare chest.

He looks up and sees Angie.

“Sorry!” she cries out, and he notices she’s not looking at his face when he sets the palette down, trying to wipe at the pint on his skin. “Wow. This is a look. Go English!”

Steve blushes, grabbing his rag and using it as a make-shift cover for at least part of his bare torso.

“I thought you two were meeting at your hotel for drinks,” Steve said, reaching over to the couch for his shirt. Angie is still staring when he slips it on.

“We were but she was running late. And so when she didn’t show I thought I’d see if we got our wires crossed and see if she was here. Sorry for scaring you. I still had my key, and I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m sure Peggy just got caught up or stuck in traffic. You know how her work is.”

Angie nodded. “Yeah, she’s always going at a hundred miles a minute.” She stepped further into the room until she was right in front of the canvas. “You’re painting Peggy! You’ve been painting a perfect portrait of her half-naked looking like a Greek God. Unreal.”

Steve blushed further. “It’s hot in here but I prefer the breeze and the sunlight filtering in while painting so I turned the air conditioning off.”

“Oh don’t apologize, Steve. This has been the best surprise to walk into. I can’t imagine how Peg handles coming home to this every day.”

“We’re not living together.”

The yet goes without saying.

She giggled. “Yeah and when’s the last time you were at your place?”

“This morning,” he said defensively.

She just smirked and continue to devolve into giggles.

“You’re an amazing artist. That looks just like Peggy, down to that spark in her eye. I might need to hire you to paint me.”

He laughed. “Free of charge Angie. Friends and family plan.”

She grinned. “You’re as sweet as a button, you know that?”

“Can I get you something? Water?” he asked, already headed into the kitchen.

“Water’s good.”

They say down in the living room together chatting.

“How was your flight? Did you have press today?”

“Yup. Did a few of the morning shows. I have a late-night show appearance tomorrow afternoon that I’m pretty excited about. I can’t believe they’re having me on it!”

“We’ll have to record it. Peggy and I have been watching every episode by the way. But we’re a few behind because I have to wait and watch them with her. But you’re our favorite!”

“Aw, shucks. I cannot believe you got Peggy watching network TV.”

He laughed. “No I got her to use Netflix. You got her into network TV. She says you’re the most believable, though she always figures out the plot twists before I do. Are you giving her spoilers?”

“No way! And give away the impact of my performances before she sees them? That’s definitely all English. How’s she been? Super busy?”

“A little, but less so recently. She had a busy few weeks before her conference with the EU but she’s been keeping a regular schedule lately, coming home for dinner most nights.”

“Guess I just got unlucky with my timing,” Angie replied. “But I’m glad Peggy’s been taking some time for herself.”

Steve nodded. He’d seen Peggy in all sorts of ranges of stress in the last ten months. He’d been so glad that she’d been taking more personal time off, delegating, taking care of her well-being, seeking out his support when she needed it. Of course she was a busy woman. That was a given. But she always tried to make time. She always took the effort to stay present when they spent quality time together.

She’d gone out of her way to support his painting. They’d spent so many evenings out, sipping wine and swinging by the latest “hot” opening only for Peggy to proclaim that his work was much better, more moving, worthy of his own showing.

He still wasn’t all too sure about the whole artist career, but he loved how supportive she had been. How much she cared. How much she believe in him. It was nice to know if nothing else, he had a fan in Peggy.

“I’ve been trying to make sure she’s been taking care of herself better.”

“Good. I already know how good you are to her. She’s always happy to talk about you. I wouldn’t have believed it before actually meeting you.”

He shrugs off the compliment, after all he didn’t want the praise for just being there for someone he loved. Besides she deserved it and more.

“Maybe she’s got held up in a meeting. I’m sure she remembers our reservation,” Steve said after another fifteen minutes without hearing from her. “I’ll try to call her again.”

He didn’t catch her, but he did leave her a message reminding her of their reservation and that he and Angie would meet her there. Steve changed quickly in Peggy’s room and then the two of them hailed a cab. Angie filled him in on some L.A. gossip and some stories of her cast mates. He liked how bright and bubbly Angie was. He liked hearing stories of how she and Peggy became friends. How Peggy had always believed in Angie becoming an actress, and how the two always had each other’s backs. He liked knowing there were people apart from himself that cared so much for her.

They were early for their reservation, opting for the bar while they continued to swap stories. He checked his phone once they were seated but there were no messages. Angie convinced him to split an appetizer as she was starving and he hadn’t eaten since lunch.

“Must be some hell of a meeting English is stuck in for her to respond to my texts for like five hours.”

Steve hummed, checking his phone.

“Wait. What did you say? You haven’t heard from her in that long?”

#geekynerddemon #steggy #my fic #I’m sorry I couldn’t get you the whole thing #may has been kicking my ass #also doing this on tumblr mobile was not fun #happy birthday friend!!

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lifeofkaze · 3 years ago

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When Stars Ignite - Chapter 14

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: Katriona Cassopeia (in mention) belongs to the gorgeous @kc-and-oc

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning:

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @carewyncromwell @night-rhea @thatravenpuffwitch

Man, we were killin' time We were young and restless We needed to unwind I guess nothin' can last forever Forever, no… ~ Bryan Adams - Summer of ‘69 ~

Much to his relief, Orion’s fear of having been discovered seemed to prove unwarranted. Skye was a direct person, never shy to speak her mind; if she had truly seen something not meant for her eyes during the interview, Orion was sure she’d have already come and spoken to either of them.

But nothing of the sort had happened. She had acted just like she always did and his first surge of worry had died down again. Sometimes even the most focused mind was prone to being tricked and, as he had to admit to himself, focus was something he found himself lacking in these days.

It wasn’t only because of Lizzie’s teasing getting riskier that he found his mind wandering more often than not. Ever since the show they were meant to be playing for the children from the foster system had shown its face on the horizon, an ever present restlessness had been growing in Orion.

Dreams that he had pushed to the edges of his mind a long time ago had started haunting him again; they kept coming back whenever they held an event stirring the buried memories of his childhood. He loved seeing the light in the children’s faces when they were spending time with them; he knew it was a rare sight, after all. The emotional mess Orion carried back with him afterwards was the dark side of the coin, however.

The charity event was scheduled for the next day; they were to play a small acoustic set for the children in the afternoon and their regular show only a few hours later on top. To keep their spirits high before the double load, Ethan had scheduled a day off for them.

The weather was still uncharacteristically hot and so most of the band and crew had found themselves at the small pool on the rooftop of their hotel. Much to everyone’s surprise, even Artemis had joined them.

Charlie had followed Skye’s advice to take Artemis for drinks a few days prior. He had been unusually tight-lipped about it when they had asked him how it had gone down.

“It was good,” he had shrugged, “told you she’s not as bad as you all think.”

While the young pyro tech still kept her distance from the rest of them, Orion had seen her chatting with Charlie outside of their work on stage since then. He was glad she seemed to be taking a step into the right direction, lowering her armour even for the tiniest bit.

But Artemis’ tentative attempts at integrating herself with their group lounging by the pool were counteracted as soon as she took her shirt off. Everett audibly wolf-whistled at her black bikini with surprisingly colourful patterns crisscrossing it. Her withering glare was met with a lewd grin as Artemis picked up her stuff and dumped it on the deckchair farthest away from them.

Lizzie gave Everett a smack on the back of his head. “Well done, Ev, you’ve scared her away. I wanted to have a chat with her.”

Everett looked at her over the rim of his sunglasses. “I’m not stopping you. Two beauties in bikinis getting close? Who would I be to object? You could rub her back with sunscreen.”

He laughed to himself. “If Artemis isn’t up for it, I’m always here for you, gorgeous.”

A hint of the same irritation Orion felt flickered over Lizzie’s face. “You’re a real mood today.”

She got up from her own deckchair and started over in Artemis’ direction anyway, but was stopped by Charlie catching onto her wrist.

“Woah, where are you going, little rockstar?”

“Go and talk to Artemis, see if I can convince her to come over if Ev shuts up.” She gave the singer lounging in his chair a dark look.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Charlie said and pulled her down next to him. “Trust me, if you push her you’ll be the one scaring her away. She’ll come over if she wants to.”

Lizzie opened her mouth to object but Charlie shook his head. “You can’t force her, sunshine.”

“Fine,” Lizzie snorted, not pleased by the situation, “so what’re we gonna do now?” She nodded in the direction of the pool. “Anyone up for a round of water polo?”

Everett declined, preferring to seek a better place to tan, while Merula did the opposite and withdrew to the shade with a book. So it was Charlie, Lizzie, Andre and Skye who made their way to the water. Orion would have joined them, but he was preoccupied with some ideas that had been floating around in his head since that morning; he wanted to write them down before he’d forget them.

He was lying on his stomach on his deckchair, notebook open in front of him, but found it hard to concentrate. The match of water polo going on in the pool had turned into some kind of wrestling match, like it always did eventually. Lizzie and Skye were sitting on Charlie’s and Andre’s shoulders respectively, trying to knock the other into the water; a lot of giggling and shouting was involved as they fought for the upper hand.

What really distracted him though, was the way the sunlight was refracting in the water droplets on Lizzie’s skin when she moved. It let her slender body shimmer, her tan she always got so quickly in the summer months a beautiful contrast to the vibrant red of her bikini. Her wet hair looked a lot darker than it actually was and it was clinging to her back.

Skye almost managed to knock her off Charlie’s shoulder and Lizzie laughed as she righted herself again. It was the kind of laugh that made her stand out amongst all the others, bright and captivating. It gave her an aura that was impossible to escape, drawing eyes whenever she entered a scene. She had the ability to light up a whole room with her smile, as fresh and beautiful as a sunrise.

“I’d say I’m 95.9 % sure what you’re staring at, my friend,” Orion suddenly heard the voice of Murphy next to him, “or should I rather say who?”

Orion tried not to let his surprise show; he had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t heard his best friend approach. “Your meaning is obscure to me,” he answered evasively. “I’m simply trying to work here.”

Murphy couldn’t hide his smirk. “When you’re working, your attention is usually 87.5 % focused on your work, more if no one is distracting you. Four out of five times you don’t even react when spoken to.” He glanced down at the mostly blank page of Orion’s notebook. “Today I’d say your focus is reduced to abysmal 30.9 %.” Never missing a detail, his eyes flicked to the still on-going wrestling match in the pool.

With a sigh, Orion closed his notebook and rested his head on his arms. Murphy was far too observant to be lied to, but he didn’t have to know all the details either.

He indicated their laughing friends with a slight nod of his head. “It is good that our friends are having a great time, it strengthens their bond of friendship. But they are making a lot of noise, it’s bound to draw attention.”

The dismissive sound Murphy was making clearly showed that he wasn’t buying it. “It’s obvious they’re distracting you. But from what I’ve seen, 95.5 % of the time you’ve spent looking at them were devoted to one of the pairs, and while I do have to admit that Andre’s new gold bangles are surprisingly flashy and apparently water resistant, I highly doubt it was him that drew your attention, same goes for Skye, although her hair usually is an eye catcher, I’ll give you that. That leaves Charlie and dear Lizzie, and last time I checked, you weren’t one for redheads, that’s more my thing. Not that I want to say I find Charlie particularly attractive, although some might say so, but I digress. So only one option remains, and as the one and only master of logical deductions, the great Sherlock Holmes, once said, ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable…”

“...must be the truth’,” Orion finished with a sigh. “I know the quote. You're quoting numbers all day every day, do you really feel the need to go into literature as well now?"

Ignoring him, Murphy was grinning from ear to ear, clearly satisfied with his conclusions. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Orion wasn’t answering immediately; he didn’t like Murphy’s prying at all. “Are you done, Detective McNully?”

“Fine, don’t answer me then, I don’t need confirmation,” Murphy snorted. “The stats never lie, my friend.”

Orion rolled his eyes, hoping Murphy wouldn’t delve into another one of his statistical sprees. Although he was right in that his numbers were seldom wrong, Orion himself preferred a more open-minded view of his surroundings to Murphy’s cold, analytical observations; especially, if these observations were directed at his own behaviour.

But of course, Murphy wasn’t deterred. “To the attentive observer, which of course you know that I am, all the facts are there. Eight out of ten times your mood changes for the better when Lizzie enters the room. Seven out of ten times she starts smiling when she looks at you. You two look at each other during shows and soundtracks 46.4 % more often than at the others and yes, I factored out the times when you need to because of the cues she’s giving you, thanks a lot for asking. You hug each other at the end of the shows significantly longer as well. When you leave the backstage area, you’re never leaving together but almost always in close succession.”

The blond sound technician crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Are you really sure there isn’t anything you want to tell me?”

Orion was more than a little shocked at all the facts Murphy had just thrown at him. “I had no idea it was that obvious.”

Murphy shrugged, a sly smile appearing on his face. “Only to me. You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and my above average observational skills, which of course not everyone possesses, solved 82.3 % of the mystery.”

“What’s with the rest?”

“What I can offer in facts, I sometimes lack in interpreting. Katriona connected the dots.”

“Obviously,” Orion sighed.

“So, what’s the deal with you two? Are you dating?” A frown appeared on Murphy’s face. “I thought you had a clause about this in your contracts. Ethan’s not going to like this.”

Orion vehemently shook his head. “No, you got that wrong. We’re not dating, everything is just like it has always been. We’re just enjoying additional pastimes, which - I’ll give you that - may exceed a regular friendship.”

He looked at Murphy intently. “No one besides you knows about this, and I would appreciate it if it stayed that way.”

Murphy made a non-committal sound. “Of course this doesn’t include Katriona.”

“As if any of us could keep a secret from her.”

“I normally don’t go for absolutes but that’s 100 % true,” Murphy laughed. He looked at Orion curiously. “So how long has this thing between you and Lizzie been going on now?”

“A while,” Orion answered evasively.

“The definition of ‘a while’ ranges from two weeks to up to a year. Judging by my numbers, it’s definitely not the former. Doesn’t sound like a short lived fling to me.”

“I wouldn’t call it a fling,” Orion said; it was surprisingly hard to put what was going on between them into words. “But we’re definitely not emotionally involved with each other. It’s not a matter of the heart, more of a physical extension built on the base of our friendship.”

Murphy leaned back into his wheelchair and grinned. “The old classic, friends with benefits.”

“If that’s the label you want to stick on it.”

Murphy hummed in response, following Orion’s gaze to the pool again. His voice was quieter when he spoke this time. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? We are both on the same page about it.”

“Just saying, things like these seldomly work out as well as they start. Approximately 89.6 % of physical relationships end in chaos, tears or both.”

The memory of his own initial worry emerged in the back of Orion’s mind. He watched as Skye gave Lizzie a final push that sent her toppling from Charlie’s shoulders. She shrieked before she crashed into the water, but was already laughing again when she resurfaced; Orion firmly pushed his concerns away.

“It won’t escalate with us,” he said. “Both of us value our friendship, and the fate of Equinox even more so. We’ve established very clear rules. I appreciate your worries, but they are misplaced.”

“As much as I love rules for the structure they’re bringing, rules can easily be broken,” Murphy said. “Just be careful, okay? Mixing friendship with sex can be a lot of fun but the devil’s in the detail.”

They both watched Lizzie climbing out of the pool and heading over into their direction. When she passed Everett, he pulled down his sunglasses and watched after her, his eyes very slowly travelling up and down her body. He said something to her Orion couldn’t hear, but Lizzie only rolled her eyes, shot something back and continued on her way. Murphy's eyes flicked from her to Orion.

“Aren’t you bothered with Ev hitting on her?”

Orion shrugged. “Why would I? She’s not my girlfriend, and she can perfectly handle herself, as you’ve just seen.”

“That she undoubtedly can,” Murphy laughed, “I’ll better be off now and leave you two alone. I wonder where my beautiful wife is. I haven’t seen her in quite a while now.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #orion amari #murphy mcnully #lizzie jameson #lizion #rockstar au #when stars ignite #wsi #besties collaborate

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thr-333 · 4 years ago

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Mismatch- Part 25

In my defence I didn’t forget about updating here, I just didn’t want to.

First < Previous

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“How do I look?” Marion asks as people fuss around him, not least of all Marinette herself.

“I hoped that would be obvious seeing as I designed this look,” She smirks at him eyes sparkling he can tell since the whites of the Domino mask are removed.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the greatest and all that,” He waves her off as a stylist tries to tame his hair to fit the messy look she wanted.

“Well it is true isn’t it?” She teases, someone also trying to follow her with a brush and comb as she flies around the room in a whirl of designing.

"Perhaps," Marion hums, gaze drifting over to the door where he notices a familiar figure, Marinette follows his smile.

“Luka!” Marinette exclaims, wrapping her friend in a hug, “When did you arrive?”

“Last night," Luka smiles, she was glad she got the chance to become his friend again as MDC, not that he knew their secret identity, "This city is so majestic,”

“Gotham at night?” Marion scoffs, turning in his seat, only to get scolded by the stylist, “Are we talking about the same place?”

“CD maybe you just haven't taken the time to really hear the city’s song,” Luka strums a few cords to demonstrate, “You should its melody compliments your own,”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Marion shrugs, sitting forward again, “Do you think you can use it to reach out to the Gotham audience? I really want to connect with them,”

“Will do boss,” Marion sticks his tongue at him, Luka only ever called him that in jest.

Luka gives a playful wave leaving to go sort out the music. He had his own responsibilities as the opening act. Marinette feels someone watching them and dismisses the stylist, congratulating her on a great job. She looks a tad peeved as Marion's hair is largely the same as when she entered, but many employees are used to the twins randomly leaving anyway. The door to their dressing room clicks closed and the presence makes itself known.

“What can we do for you, Batman?” Marinette asks, offering him a seat, although she knows he won’t accept it.

“MDC,” he inclines his head, not showing if he was taken aback by her catching him out, “We have reason to believe the concert will be attacked tonight,”

“Yeah, we thought that might happen,” Marion gets up, stretching, “Just try to keep whoever away from the crowd and we can handle the rest,”

“You don’t seem to understand, after the last attack-”

“Sorry to cut you off,” Wow it was weird acing professional around the same guy they had been tormenting the past few weeks, “But that was an impromptu event this one has been planned out for years,"

Officially not but they had designed the building to help them catch akuma in Paris while keeping an event going, they just applied that design to Gotham.

"If you would like to call in the rest of your coworkers we can show you the defenses we have in place so you can work with them,”

Batman seems surprised. What did he think they were just air-headed celebrities? Well, that wasn’t going to be the only surprise of the day then. Sure enough, he calls everyone in and Marinette’s a little hurt to see he invited everyone but Sparrow and Songbird to join in the fun. She hides this fact leading the ragtag group through the backstage area. Spotting their manager she walks over.

“Could you please clear our schedule we want to give them a personal tour of our security measures,” She asks Kate, to her credit only looking mildly surprised to see the whole Batfam trailing after them.

“I thought you might, I’ve already worked it into your schedule, just make sure you're there in time for the costume checks,” Kate looks down tapping away at her tablet, “Also call your uncle arrived in town last night he’ll want to wish you good luck so watch out for him,”

“We couldn’t do it without you,” Marinette beams, letting her go to attend her other duties.

They must make an odd sight, two superstars guiding a pack of vigilantes like ducklings through the backstage. They go over all the security protocols. Safe rooms that the staff was instructed to go to under certain circumstances. There were carefully lain traps that only a few people could trigger to set off. On the stage itself was a secret compartment Marion could make a quick getaway to get change in, a tunnel leading backstage. The entire backstage was a maze in itself all the staff specially trained to navigate it.

To protect the audience they hadn't packed it nearly as much as they could have so it meant it easier for them to reach the exits. Indeed there were hidden emergency exits that people could escape through if villains blocked the obvious ones, they were set to reveal themselves if that was the case. There were also hidden trapdoors in rows of seats that would glow if people were forced to duck behind the seats. It leads to underground tunnels that would lead them safely away. There were even tunnels connecting to the staff safe rooms so they could come and direct the audience as needed. Marinette had made sure to make the tunnels look inviting ad pleasant so no one would panic at being underground.

Then there were the special (comfy) perches that they showed to the Batfamily, each situated to look over everything and be hidden by the lights. There were wires leading to the stage and audience in case they needed to get down quickly and quietly. They also made a web above that they could run along and run any interference with ariel attacks. They also gave them each a blueprint of the stadium so they could see all the secret tunnels that were perfect for a surprise attack. There were ones leading into the entrance subtle enough someone could be pulled in while walking into the building, for the purposes of catching criminals before they even entered. There was also a trap door that could open underneath, she gave them each a remote control to these, warning them to use them wisely. Each hidden door leads to a room suited for fighting, carefully crafted to give the bats and edge.

It had taken a long time and a lot of money but they had invested, making a safe place they could rent out to other performers so there could be more shows in Gotham conducted safely. She could tell that by the end of the tour even Batman was impressed as they headed back to the stage through the empty audience seating.

“Hey! Superstars!” Jagged's voice booms across the arena, waving from the entrance of the place.

“Uncle Jagged!” Marion jumps over seats to reach him, Marinette a step behind him as they both tackle him into a hug.

“Good to see you too,” Jagged ruffles their hair, Marinette sends a silent apology to the stylist, “This place looks Rockin!”

“You bet just wait till I take the stage,” Marion grins, as they both hug Penny and Fang as well.

“Why wait! Show me what you got,” Jagged sends Marion off, who runs to the technicians asking if they can do an early mic check, everyone scrambles to make it happen.

“So how’re you finding Gotham?” Jagged asks her, walking with a side hug back towards the Batfamily.

“Oh, you know… busy,”

“I’d say the news with Marion? That was wicked!”

“Yes… wicked,” Penny pales at just the memory, and yeah fair enough.

“Yo Batman great to meet you!” Jagged boisterous nature meets Batman’s stoic one but the poor guy barely has a chance to adjust before Jagged’s moving on.

“Yo Red Hood right?” Hood looks a little shocked as Jagged claps a hand on his shoulder, “You saved my nephew, I really owe you one!”

“Oh-that's not- I just,” Marinette shares a smirk with Jagged which would have surely had Marion screaming.

“Yeah, he really looks up to you!” Jagged has him spluttering more, she would show him mercy but they only have so much time before Marion catches on.

“Oh Uncle Jagged I wouldn’t phrase it like that,” Marinette says in a suggestive tone, the stage is still empty of Marion.

“Of course, no I’d say it more that...” Marinette could actually laugh as Red Hood practically vibrates from anticipation, “He likes you,”

I think we just killed him, Marinette notes as Red Hood internally combusts. Well now wasn't the time to show mercy.

“I’d say that's putting it rather lightly,” Marinette smirks as Red Hood is sent into another spluttering mess, and oh how she wishes he wasn't wearing that helmet.

“Right it’s more like-”

“Stop it both of you,” Penny’s reprimand has them both doubling over with laughter. The Batfamily looking absolutely bewildered. Minus of course, Red Hood who they may have to call an ambulance for soon if he doesn't start breathing.

“What are you two laughing at?” Marion walks to the edge of the stage, someone fusses with a microphone not too far away.

“Nooothhinggggg,” They chime simultaneously, with matching grins.

“Penny?” Marion all but whines, fidgeting nervously.

“They haven’t said anything bad,” She assures him, Marion foolishly relaxes.

“Hey is this the guy that saved your hide?” Jagged asks, having the guts to swing his arm around Red Hood’s shoulders.

“Uncle Jagged,” He hisses at the same time Penny hisses ‘Jagged’.

“You should thank him... sing endless!” Jagged exclaims, and Marinette couldn’t be sure he hasn't been planning this from the start, “You wrote it for him didn’t you?”

“Not for him its not-” Marion makes a bunch of vague gestures, “You know?”

“Not at all,” Jagged grins, dragging Red Hood closer to center stage seats, he plops down Red Hood right in the middle of the stadium. The rest of the Batfam take seats around them. “Sing Endless!”

Marion is scowling but doesn't have much other choice as a stagehand tell him he’s all set. He takes the microphone. Marinette mimes at him to breathe, he rolls his eyes but does anyway. The music starts Marion hitting his cue and with just the first few words she could see the tension drain away.

“And the world starts slowly caving it~”

It was such a gentle song. So many people had told him and still told him that it didn’t fit the violent vigilante. The producers had argued they should just fit it to someone else, someone people liked more. In the end, they had caved to Marion's arguments probably because it wasn't made to be an upbeat pop song so they weren't too attached to the money making aspect. That didn't stop the audience from arguing about it afterwards. Some claimed they just randomly selected the song, or that they shouldn't have done one for him at all.

Marion pointedly told them they were all wrong. And looking at Red Hood now, completely enthralled with Marion's singing she could tell that, yeah it had fit him perfectly all along.

"All the words you said were they true? or just selfish li-es~"

Marinette broke her gaze away from Marion to look at the rest of the Batfamily. Suffice to say they were all enthralled, hopefully they wouldn't be this distracted at the concert tonight. Although she supposed it was a good thing they were doing the mic check now so they could watch now and focus later. Then again she doubted Red Hood would be much use regardless, he was leaning forward in his seat the rest of the world dead to him. To fair Marion wasn't much better. In a crowd he would look around or at least pick a random stop to sing to no one. This time however? this time he was locked on to Red Hood sinign directly to him and he probably didn't even realise.

"Gave all I ever had try to make you laugh try to please you~"

Batman looked uncomfortable at the line. Judjing by the times she had seen them spend together there was a tension between them a past she didn't know. How Marion managed to pick up on that long before they came to Gotham she doesn't know. It was almost like he could see into his soul, a connection there despite never having met, like the pull of a miraculous.

"All I know is gone, now I'm all alone~"

Marion wasn’t testing out the mics. That much was obvious. He was straight up performing. And no he hadn’t written the song for Red Hood persay. But she had watched him every night and day agonize over the right words to use, the tune, the feeling behind it. Scraping up every bit of information he could it was probably more thorough than any police investigation done on Red Hood. It was then she realized, their room covered top to bottom in pictures of him covering the ones she had of Adrien, that Marion had completely and utterly fallen for the guy. No, it wasn't a song for him, it was a love letter for him, to him, about him. It was a picture that painted exactly how Marion saw him.

And she was willing to bet that the only people that didn’t realize it were them, both completely captivated by each other as Marion finished.

“What is it~” He holds the next note until the music fades out into nothingness, “Inside~”

The music stops, Marion opening his eyes, almost seeming startled that there were other people sitting before him. It’s only then he seemed to realize that there was more than just one other person in the arena and spirited off to check with the sound. It was as he turned to walk away Marinette could tell Hood had seen it, the robins newly stitched up the back of his jacket.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #ML #bio! dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #bio dad bruce wayne #Mismatch #marinette is mdc #twins au #vigilante AU #Popstar AU #MLB #salt #Slight salt #lila #lila lies #class trip au #maribat

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mavericksy · 4 years ago

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Time to Waste (Aizawa x Gender-neutral Reader)

Summary: Aizawa is displeased when your lengthy going-out routine leads the two of you to arrive late at an event, and you know full well he’s going to get you back for it- after all, that was your plan.

Tags: Spanking, mild public humiliation

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+

Word count: 3990

Requests are open (any character/pairing/rating)!

Black or blue? Slim or bootcut? You hold the pants in front of you, scrutinising them under your bedroom light. A pile of going-out clothes lies discarded on top of your shared double bed. You’ve known about this event for the last few months, and had even considered your outfit choices during the slow hours of work, but you’ve purposefully avoided making any decisions until an hour beforehand.

Aizawa arrives in the doorway. He’s already sulking at the prospect of having to wear a tie, but his face well and truly drops when he sees you sat on the floor in just your underwear.

“You…you told me you were ready!” he hisses. “You told me you just needed to change your shirt!”

You look up as though you weren’t expecting to see him in the doorway of his own bedroom, and tilt your head to the side.

“Yeah, but…there weren’t any good replacements!”

“So you took the entire outfit off?”

“What’s the matter? You don’t want me to look good at this event?”

“Like I told you earlier, I could care less what you wear. I doubt we’re even going to make it at this rate.”

You roll your eyes and check your watch.

“Come on, big kitty…” His shoulders hunch at your pet name, and you know he’s trying to suppress a blush. “We’ve got an hour to get there.”

“And if there’s traffic?”

You shrug. “We get there a little late, so what? If anything, it’s less time spent rubbing shoulders with people you don’t like.” “The earlier we arrive, the earlier we can leave. The later we arrive, the more people there are to block our path to the exit.”

“I’m surprised you even accepted the invitation.” You hold two shirts up, one dark blue and one white pinstripe. “Which one?”

“I don’t care, so long as you wear something.” He leans against the doorframe in despair. You don’t miss his eyes coasting over your nude curves as you kneel on the floor. You make a special point of leaning forward to pick another article up, knowing his eyes will snap to your underwear as it rides up the swell of your backside.

“Hmm, I think I’ll go with this one…” You retrieve the shirt and shuffle your butt, as though to shift the material of the underwear somewhere more comfortable. He’s momentarily distracted, then he spots the red shirt in your hands.

“That’s the one you were wearing before!” He pushes himself off the doorframe and storms over to snatch it out of your hands. His suspicions are confirmed as he inspects it. “You…!”

He stares down at you as you kneel on the floor. You employ the big, confused eyes, holding a pair of trousers to your chest.

“You…” he sighs and ruffles your hair. Your chest leaps with glee, and you nudge your head into his touch, only for his fingers to tighten on the back of your skull. He pushes you into the crotch of his suit pants. “I know exactly what you’re doing.”

“What?” you say, letting your lips brush the material. You raise a hand to stroke his thigh, moving onto your haunches. His fly is an inch away from your face, and you let your fingers dance across it, clicking against his belt buckle.

“Stop that,” he grunts, pushing your head down and stepping over you. He drops the shirt and moves to the door. “Get dressed, or I’ll make you sit naked in the cab.”

You know he’d never make good on that, but you feel your blood rush towards your pelvis anyway.

“What have I done?” you whine, getting on all fours to pick the shirt up. His gaze is fully on you, even as he stands in the doorway about to leave the room. He takes in the dip of your back as it cascades towards your covered ass, which you’ve positioned pleasingly in the air.

He chuckles darkly.

“I’ll tell you what you’ve done. You’ve just earned yourself a spanking.”

He was right. There was traffic.

You had felt extremely pleased with your plan as you exited your house. Aizawa hated public affection, but he’d taken an extra moment to squeeze and maul your ass as you kissed behind the door, only to lay a swift smack on it just as you stepped out. He’d played it nonchalant, but your eyes had immediately gone to the cab sat right by the door, both mortified and thrilled at the prospect that the driver might have seen- or heard your squeak.

As the driver hummed and tapped his wheel, staring out at the line of cars ahead, you felt Aizawa’s withering gaze squarely on your face as you put all your attention into toying with the window controls.

He moved closer to you, hanging over your shoulder so you could hear his controlled breathing, and smell the shampoo on his hair. At the back of your mind you were happy to discover it was the herbal one you’d bought him. As he lingered, you became more and more aware of his broad, muscled shoulder digging into yours. Neither of you had ever seen the point in comparing body types, but you were always conscious of the sheer brawn he hid under his dark, ill-fitting clothes.

The stinging spank he had given you before you left had only been a taste of what was yet to come.

You squirmed and clenched your cheeks as the memory of it worked its way back onto your flesh, making the skin on your rear tingle. Already you were wondering if the thorough groping he had given you had left bruises, or if the ache in your body was simply it yearning for what was yet to come.

After the event.

He didn’t say anything in the taxi, but you could tell from the way his fingers drummed against his folded arms that he wasn’t impressed with you at the moment. Both of you kept checking your watches, but eventually the vehicle pulled down the required avenue in a ritzy part of the city. Your heart sank and his scowl deepened as you arrived outside the restaurant, and saw a throng of burly heroes already outside.

Aizawa thanked the driver and jumped out first, before coming around to your side to open the door. You had been avoiding his gaze for most of the journey, horrified at the shock of traffic you hadn’t predicted, but now you couldn’t find anywhere else to look but his face. His eyes were hard and intense, but it was the fire behind them that made you tremble as the door handle clicked. It wasn’t the cold and professional glare he reserved for villains and irksome colleagues.

It was the one that told you that you were going to be sleeping on your stomach for the next week.

You thanked the driver and stepped out of the cab, expecting to take his hand. Instead, his arm snaked around your waist. Uh-oh.

He held his watch in front of your face.

“Seventeen minutes,” he deadpanned.

“I-”

He cut you off with a firm wallop to your rear, the opposite cheek. You jolted and tried not to make a sound as you stepped onto the carpet outside the restaurant, and into the crowd of heroes. They were boisterous and broad, jostling each other in tipsy shows of strength, but Aizawa’s arm kept you pulled close to his side. Your cheek tingled as you navigated through to the entrance, ducking around Aizawa’s industry colleagues as he snubbed them one by one, and it didn’t stop tingling until you’d reached the door.

“Aizawa,” he said plainly to a woman holding a ledger. You fidgeted in place as she took a moment to read through it. Standing on the spot was making your butt clench in a way that drew attention to your sore skin, and it didn’t help that Aizawa’s fingers were caressing the thick flesh at the base of your spine, which created another problem for you below the belt. You flushed and readjusted your pants as the woman let you through. A thrill rushed up and down your spine as Aizawa’s hand dropped momentarily, allowing him to graze your cleft as he pushed the heavy glass door open.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he muttered into your ear, eyeing the room for any potential interactions to be avoided. “We’re getting out of here as soon as-”

“Aizawa, you finally made it!” A familiar voice cried. Your heads snapped in the direction it came from.

Having spotted you from the bar, Midnight was waltzing over in a sea of red sparkles, her breasts swinging perilously close to freedom behind her plunging neckline. Her perfume tickled your nose as she swept in to smooch Aizawa’s cheek, a gesture he had long learned to tolerate instead of try and avoid.

You felt your cheeks going pink as she did the same to you. You made the mistake of avoiding her gaze by looking down at her bosom.

“So cheeky!” she exclaimed, assaulting your shoulder with a bar napkin- a makeshift replacement for a flogger. “Aizawa, you need to keep this one under control!”

“Believe me, I’ve been trying,” Aizawa growled. Your cheeks suddenly became very hot and sweaty as you realised exactly what was about to happen.

Aizawa was a private person, but even he needed an outlet sometimes. Midnight, the single most shameless and salacious person you had ever met, was a match made in heaven.

“I’ve already had to schedule one punishment for tonight.”

Sweet humiliation tore into your lower regions as Aizawa squeezed your side possessively, staring Midnight down as though daring her to make a claim on you.

Which she of course did.

“I thought you had a guilty look on your face,” she purred, looking you up and down. “Make him late, did you?”

Trying to keep your lips clamped together to avoid a shriek of delighted indignity, you nodded.

“Oh, aren’t you bad? Stealing my time with a dear colleague. Aizawa, let me teach them a lesson, too!”

“Keep off,” Aizawa said, tugging you to stand in front of him and resting his head on your shoulder. You could feel his jaw move as he dragged his tongue across his grin. He pushed his hips to your ass, making you stir as you were pulled against his erection. “This one’s mine.”

Midnight chuckled and traced your chin with her finger. “Pity.”

Aizawa snapped his teeth at her playfully, to which she laughed.

“Make sure you give them a couple extra to make up for staring at my chest!” she called over her shoulder, before vanishing into the crowd to tease some other poor soul.

Aizawa nestled his face into your shoulder as she left, and kissed the back of your neck. Laughter bubbled out of you as he squeezed your sides.

“You’re not usually this affectionate out and about,” you said.

He stood and laid a single kiss to the side of your head, patting your rear. You both knew that, for all the fuss they’d make about him not attending this event, nobody was paying any attention to you.

“I’m having a hard time keeping myself from bending you over my knee right here, right now,” he hissed, all but stopping your heart as you gazed around the room. He was.

“Don’t you dare,” you giggled as he guided you to make a lap around the room.

“Strange,” he said, grinning wolfishly. “You’re not the one who’s supposed to be giving orders to me.”

“Like I listen to your orders to begin- oh!” You leapt out of your skin as he patted you more firmly than you were expecting, your reaction drawing much more attention than the mild spank.

“I’m going to kill you, I swear,” you hissed as you hurried past a group of bemused heroes.

“I’d welcome it,” he sighed, raising his hand and stopping as two heroes you didn’t recognise spotted him and started to walk over.

The cab door slammed shut.

“In,” he said firmly as the cab drove off. Your heart hammered in your chest as you stumbled towards your front door, keys in hand.

He arrived behind you, his impressive body casting a shadow over the door as lamplight caught him. You could feel him judging you as you fumbled with the keys, your fingers shaking, until eventually he stepped forwards and plucked them from your hand. His warm breath coasted down your neck as he leaned over to maneuver them in the lock, much more quietly and gracefully than your nervous hands could have done it.

“Over the couch.”

Not keen to disobey him further, you quickly hopped inside your warm front room, glancing over your shoulder to gauge his expression. Usually you delighted in playful sessions sat on the edge of the bed, but the couch meant business.

You hurried into the living room and headed for your slightly worn fabric couch. It was padded to accommodate Aizawa’s frequent naps, but the height of the arms meant that any time you bent over them, your butt pointed straight up in the air. You got yourself into position, sighing as your face, predictably, smushed straight into the cushions.

His shoes hit the floor in the other room. A swish of material told you he had taken his jacket off. In his socks, he was able to move around the house silently, and his voice from the doorway made you jump.

“Pants down,” was all he said, before promptly disappearing.

You groaned as you stood again, catching a glimpse of his white shirt disappearing towards the kitchen. Trying to avoid the gaze of the cat statue on the mantel, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your trousers and tugged them down. Being so hasty about getting to the couch, you had neglected to take your shoes off (and you half-hoped that wouldn’t result in a harsher punishment, half-hoped it would), and had to settle for pooling your pants around your ankles.

He hadn’t said anything about underwear, so you left it up as you got back into position. You sensed he liked it better that way- more to play with.

You blinked the dust from the sofa out of your eyes as you waited for him to return, feeling a chill run down your exposed thighs. It wasn’t a comfortable position, and the pants restricting your leg movement made it all the harder to balance.

He couldn’t have been gone for more than a few minutes- after all, he was probably as excited to get started as you- but at the same time you were concerned that maybe he wouldn’t come back at all. Maybe lying here for the entire night was your punishment- or, worse, maybe he was upstairs right now, hurriedly packing his bags to sneak out the front door.

You didn’t hear him enter the room, of course. What you did hear, much closer than you had expected, was the sound of his belt buckle. You craned your neck to look at him, heart pounding and your lower regions tightening in anticipation as he folded the thick leather strap over in his hands. His fingers stroked down it as he saw you staring. They weren’t moving in a graceful, easy motion- the belt was too rough and worn for that. He circled them around the top of the loop, staring down at you and licking his lips.

“How many minutes late were we?” he asked.

You breathed in carefully. “Seventeen minutes.”

“Seventeen what?”

You hung your head.

“Seventeen minutes, master.”

He didn’t respond. You assumed he was nodding.

“That seems like a good place to start, don’t you think?” You didn’t answer- he didn’t want you to. “On top of that, there’s those extra few for staring at Midnight’s chest-”

You pushed yourself up on your hands, ready to protest.

“I didn’t-”

Crash!

Warm pain flooded through your buttocks. You had barely had time to register his movement. Heart pounding, you took a moment to caress where the belt had just landed.

“And one extra for trying to argue with me.”

His fingers appeared on your wrist. He pushed your arm to the side. The material of his trousers brushing your nude skin, he leaned over to play with your underwear, smoothing the waistband against your skin before pinching it together and yanking it upwards. You gasped as you felt the fabric pinch against your body, lifting your ass into the air as he tugged the material into your cleft, leaving a much wider canvas of warming skin.

He tapped the belt against the swell of your rear.

“Start counting from two,” he commanded.

You nodded, and braced yourself.

Wallop! Your entire torso lifted off the couch as the weight of the belt slammed into your ass, leaving you out of breath- and it was only the second strike.

“Were you expecting a warm-up?” he said. You nodded, blinking away the moisture that was already beginning to pool in your eyes. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have wasted so much of our time, earlier.”

He tapped the belt firmly against your skin, but hadn’t made his next strike yet. He was giving you a chance.

“What number?”

“Two, master…” you mumbled, tucking your hands away to keep them from springing back to defend your rear.

“Good. You can’t get ready on time, but you can count.”

The weight of the belt left your skin.

“Three!” you choked out. “Four!”

He paused again, the cool, warning presence of the belt leather laid against your skin as always.

“You’re getting sloppy. There’s a certain word I haven’t been hearing from you for the last two strikes.”

He swung the belt, which landed explosively against your right cheek. You rolled your hips to alleviate the sting, wincing.

“Five, master…! Six- six, master! Seven…master!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t make you repeat them.”

The next three hits came with such speed, you were still halfway through counting number nine by the time ten had landed. He gave you a brief moment to recover. Your legs lifted in the air together, still bound by your own trousers, as you tried to jerk the sting away.

As they settled back in place, ready for number eleven, you felt a delightful warmth run across both cheeks. Your privates pulsed insistently, emboldened by the rush of blood to their neighbouring regions.

“Are you sorry for making us late?”

The belt was already making its journey through the air as you opened your mouth to reply.

“Yes, I’m sorry for- eleven, master! Yes, I’m sorry for- twelve!”

“What was that?” He struck you again, his face like granite as he listened to you whimper out the number thirteen.

“I’m sorry for- ah, ow!”

“That didn’t sound like a number.”

“Fourteen! Ah-ow! Fifteen!”

You felt his hand on your skin, blissfully cold to dispel the angry heat across your cheeks. He rubbed them soothingly, but his voice still had a warning tone.

“You’re getting sloppy on your ‘masters’ again. Do I need to repeat what I told you with the belt?”

“No, no!” You shook your head firmly. His large hand suddenly crashed against your ass, once for each cheek. “Ah!”

“Lucky for you, I decided to use my hand. Wasn’t that nice?” You nodded. Two fingers wormed their way underneath the fabric of your underwear, grazing your cleft and making you moan as they tickled the sensitive spot. “I think you should thank me.”

“Thank…thank you, master…” you said, arching your ass into his fingers. They left you promptly, only to be followed by another strike from the belt. This one ripped across your upper thighs.

“That’s…sixteen, master!” you gasped. The pain from the blow had made you jolt forwards against the arm of the couch. The couch fabric had caught against the front of your underwear, pulling it down and causing curls of your exposed pubic hair to drag against the material, evoking an unsubtle groan.

Aizawa snorted as he lifted the belt from where it had landed between your thighs, and yanked your underwear back into your cleft. All that did was force your body against the couch, the friction making more soft moans bubble out of your mouth.

“You’re not supposed to enjoy yourself so much when you’re being punished,” he told you. “I don’t want to hear another sound out of you unless you’re counting these blows. If I do, I’ll start over. Understand?”

You bit your lip to keep yourself from making any noise, and nodded your head.

Seventeen landed, its weight coming unevenly against your right cheek again. As you counted it, making an effort to keep your voice even, Aizawa balanced his hand on your cheeks, thumbs swirling against your flesh as he stepped to the other side.

“Eighteen, master!” This one seemed to flip the pattern, with the pain searing against your left side instead.

Nineteen was a difficult one to get through. The angle of the belt changed mid-flight, the leftover force causing it to slap against your left cheek and immediately spring against your privates.

“Ni-nineteen, master!” you yowled, turning your lustful moan into your words to keep him from hearing it. The strength of your voice seemed to have drowned out an apology from him, and for the final blow, his hand settled against the small of your back.

“Last one, my pet…” he mumbled as he lifted the belt. You hummed and squirmed into his touch as you waited for the blow to land.

“Twenty, master!” you said almost as soon as it landed. The pain faded quickly, dulled by the intense need growing in your loins.

Immediately, his hand stroked down your back, and he picked you up from the couch to pull you close to him.

“Aren’t you so good, taking all those blows like that?” he said, massaging your flushed rear. You both looked down at the visibly sore skin as he pulled your underwear back into place. As you leaned into him to pull your pants back up, you felt a distinct lump against his leg.

“Now who’s the one enjoying punishment too much?” you teased him, yelping as his hand laid a stark reminder of who got to tease who on your abused butt.

“Don’t make me do that all over again,” he mumbled, bringing your lips together in a deep kiss. You nuzzled your face into his scratchy jaw, tipping forwards as he ended it, and started moving towards the stairs.

You grinned as you watched him go, following close behind. The loose material of the suit trousers wrapped around his thigh as he ascended the steps, and you couldn’t help but reach out to give him a taste of what he’d been doing to you all evening.

“Don’t,” he said as your hand left his firm ass cheek, but he couldn’t do much more than simply admonish you as he climbed the stairs. “I’ll spank you again. Don’t even try it.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” you said, taking his hand and drooping into him as you arrived at the top of the staircase. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, preparing to open the bedroom door. “You’re too horny. And besides, I don’t think I could take another spanking this evening even if I-”

The bedroom door swung open, and the light clicked on. You both stood wrapped around each other in the doorway as you surveyed the scene in front of you. Clothes upon clothes upon clothes- almost the entire contents of your share of the wardrobe- lay scattered across the room, littering the floor, the bed…

His arms tightened around you. The walls of the bedroom flashed before your eyes as he hauled you towards the bed.

“Wait! No! Ah, kitty…!”

#bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha x you #aizawa x reader #long post

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

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Another One?!, Part 3

First > Previous > Next

Marinette took one long, deep breath.

“What the fuck, Adrien?”

Adrien gave an awkward smile that made her want to forgive him… but, no, she must stay strong.

“It’s a cool car!”

She clicked her tongue. “Yes. Yes it is. But none of us can drive.”

“We have to learn at some point, though. Dick is going to uni soon, and it’s not like we can homeschool him for that. And there is no way I’m going to let him take the bus.”

Marinette winced. Okay, fair point.

Adrien must have realized that he was convincing her, because he chose that moment to bring out the pout.

Kwami…

She clicked her tongue once to show she was still irritated but nodded that he could have it.

He grinned and turned to look over his shoulder. “Told you I could convince her.”

Dick popped out of the bushes with a whoop.

Betrayal.

“WHY THE HECK DID I GET THE FAST CAR --?!”

“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU ASKING ME --?!”

“STOP YELLING AT EACH OTHER AND WATCH THE ROAD --!”

“PULL OVER IT’S MY TURN TO LEARN TO DRIVE --!”

“WE’RE GONNA DIE WE’RE GONNA DIE WE’RE GONNA DIE --!”

Marinette glared at the three new driver’s licenses they had all somehow scammed their way into getting, then turned her gaze on Dick.

“I love you but if you flunk out first semester I will stab you.”

He smiled and wrapped his mom in a hug. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Bitch, try me.”

Dick wasn’t fazed, squeezing her tighter.

She huffed and reluctantly hugged back. “Okay, fine, maybe not, but I will not be happy.”

“I love youuuuuu.”

“Love you too, sweetie.”

Adrien sighed as he looked at his kid’s grades so far. He’d been scared of this. College was a lot of adjustments already, and to add to that he was going straight from homeschool to normal classes and the school wasn’t giving him nearly as much help as it should.

Dick was stealing anxious looks at him out of the corner of his eyes, his legs drawn to his chest on the couch.

Adrien reached out and ruffled his hair gently. “It’s fine. We’ll get you a tutor, okay?”

He didn’t suggest changing majors. Dick wouldn’t do it if he did, though he wished he would. It’s law school. Everyone knows that you can’t have a life and still go to law school, jobs and stuff are supposed to be put on hold when you go and there was no way Dick was going to stop vigilantism anytime soon. But…

“Also, try playing a game on your computer or doodling while you’re listening to the lecture. That might help you stay focused.”

Dick nodded with a tired smile.

“And you’re going to have to cut down on vigilantism so you can do homework and go to classes. You don’t get to choose your own schedule anymore.”

“Nooooooo…”

Marinette yawned, rubbing her eyes. It had been a long day for her. She’d done patrols for a good fourteen hours, and then Nygma had decided to use that exact moment to pull a death trap out of nowhere.

So, when she’d finally finished everything for the day she was tired and soaking wet (because, for some reason, he thought it would be cool to see if she preferred death by electrocution or drowning). She’d called for her husband to come get her because it was winter and she wasn’t all that interested in walking through the snow in damp clothes.

Now she curled up in the car, getting the front seat and both her and Adrien’s jackets wet. She didn’t care as she pressed as close to the heater as she possibly could.

Adrien brought the car to a stop and looked over, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Do you want to wait in the car while I get him?”

She nodded, closing her eyes.

She felt a set of keys drop in her lap and pressed the lock button, sinking into the chair.

And then, a few minutes later, she heard something outside.

She peeked an eye open blearily and looked around, expecting to see Adrien and Dick drumming their fingers on the windows to be let in. A frown made its way across her face when she realized that they weren’t there.

She sat back up slowly and her eyes landed on a flash of red on the side opposite her.

She unlocked her door and poked her head out, carefully making her way around the car to investigate…

A person was trying to steal their hubcap.

She groaned softly and rubbed her eyes, then got into a fighting position.

The person looked up at the sound and she winced mentally when she saw they had a crowbar.

They shot to their feet and raised the weapon.

“Marinette?” Called Adrien.

She looked up on instinct, a bad idea when you’re fighting someone.

She took a crowbar to the stomach and groaned, doubling over. They leaned down to grab the hubcap and then attempted to make a break for it.

It didn’t work, obviously. Dick caught the person by their hoodie when they tried to rush past him.

They twisted in his grip and hit Dick in the side with their hubcap and, when he stumbled a bit in surprise, swept his legs out from under him.

Adrien scowled as he tackled the person to the ground. Then he stopped suddenly, his eyes going wide. “This is --!”

He never got to say what the person was, though, because they had socked him. The person had been wearing a lot of rings, so that hurt even more than it usually would. It was a wonder that Adrien didn’t black out or, at the very least, fall back to cradle his jaw.

The person must have been counting on this because they cursed and reached out to shove Adrien off of themself, but he caught their arms.

With a bit of awkward shuffling he had managed to pin them to the ground, arms tucked beneath him and legs swinging wildly in an attempt to keep Dick and Marinette back.

He needn’t have worried, both of them were pretty incapacitated. Getting hit with a metal instrument tends to do that to people.

Dick recovered first because his blow had been softer and to a less vulnerable part, and he crawled over to Marinette… who was currently listing off every swear that she could think of from her spot on the ground.

They leaned against each other for support and then lifted their shirts a little bit to check for blood. Thankfully, the things the person had used were blunt, so they would only have to worry about bruising...

Still hurt, though.

“— fucking asshole of a person I will fucking stab their cul stupide —!”

“Mari, stop cursing, it’s a kid,” hissed Adrien, who was now covering the kid in question’s ears.

“Oh really? Let’s see you get hit by a goddamn whatever-the-fuck-that’s-called --!”

The kid, who could apparently still hear despite her husband’s best efforts, supplied the name of the object he’d used: “Crowbar.”

“Oh, you absolute --!”

Dick covered her mouth so she could curse without the kid hearing it too clearly.

Eventually, she ran out of curses. Her shoulders slumped.

Adrien and Dick nodded to each other and removed their hands.

Adrien carefully clambered off the kid, though he made sure to hold onto their hands to make sure they wouldn’t a) attack again or b) just run off.

They looked him over and Marinette cringed. Definitely a street kid, if the ragged clothes and bruised skin was any indication.

“It wasn’t personal,” the kid said, looking between the three of them anxiously. He must have realized he wasn’t getting away, because he had stopped subtly struggling against Adrien’s grip. “I just needed money.”

Marinette nodded. “Sure. What foster or adoption system are you in? We can up donations.”

(She was still annoyed about the whole ‘hitting her with a crowbar’ thing, obviously, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to help out a bunch of kids in need.)

The kid’s eyes widened and then he gave a bitter laugh. “I’m not really in one, it’s safer on the streets.”

Adrien frowned. “Sorry? Why? Don’t you want a roof and food?”

They rolled their eyes. “Sure, I’d love that, but it doesn’t exactly happen.”

The three frowned at each other.

Adrien thought for a minute, then shrugged. “How about you stay with us?”

“Huh?” Said both Marinette and the kid.

“We have room and money, and Dick is probably going to leave soon anyways because of college. Why not stay with us?”

Dick hesitated. “I’m probably not leaving, actually, but you can stay if you want.”

Marinette and the kid looked met each other’s eyes and deemed themselves the only sane ones present, because honestly what the fuck?

But then the kid’s eyes strayed to the pearl necklace Adrien had gotten her the year before, to the car, to the designer bag Dick was carrying…

“I wouldn’t mind. What about you, mom?” He said, giving Marinette a cheeky grin.

She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t get puppy-dog-eyed from all sides.

Could Adrien, just once, ask her before randomly adopting kids?

Well, she guessed she should just be glad he didn’t try and adopt the entire foster system. She should probably say yes before he actually tried...

“Fine. Fine. We’ll adopt another one.” She pursed her lips together and then gave her husband a pointed look. “No more after this, though, got it? We’re too old for this stuff.”

“We’re not that old!” Complained Adrien.

She clicked her tongue.

“Fine. I’m not that old.”

Marinette scoffed and threw the keys at him. He caught them without even blinking.

Dick smiled and opened the car door for the kid, who seemed more than a little hesitant to get in the car with strangers. Apparently curiosity won over self-preservation, though, because the kid did end up getting in the car.

“Right, what’s your name?”

“Jason…”

“Cool! I’m Dick, and these are my adoptive parents, Marinette and Adrien.”

“... is no one going to talk about why your mom is soaking wet?”

“Why our mom is soaking wet, you mean.”

Jason frowned. “Sure… why?”

“She fell in a well.”

Adrien nodded as he started to drive. Marinette groaned and sunk into the front seat again.

Jason, poor kid, just looked confused.

“How the fuck…?”

Adrien was well aware that Jason didn’t trust them.

Fair enough. How many other people see a random kid stealing their hubcaps and then say ‘yeah, screw it, I’ll adopt them’? He figured they must be the only ones.

The kid seemed genuinely surprised when they pulled up to their house. Adrien wasn’t sure he wanted to know where Jason thought they were taking him.

Marinette had taken a quick shower, changed into some warm clothes, grabbed a cup of coffee, and then took Jason out shopping. Dick rearranged his room to accommodate another person.

And Adrien…

Adrien glared down the kwamis.

“Alrighty. We made the mistake last time of not telling you not to show yourselves to Dick, because we thought that was implied. We’re not doing that again. You are not allowed to in any way help Jason find out that you exist or that we are Chat Noir, Ladybug, and Robin. Got it?”

He made sure to see every kwami nod that they understood and then gave them some leftover macaroons to eat.

Good. So that disaster would be averted.

He heard a loud “Oh! My word!” from the next room and sighed.

New disaster.

He ushered the kwamis back under the floorboards and then rushed over to Dick’s room.

He walked in to find him frantically scraping a part of the wall that had been previously hidden by his bed.

Adrien crossed his arms. “Hey, buddy, whatcha got there?”

Dick turned around slowly, eyes wide and full of panic. “Uh…” He leaned back as casually as he could (it did not look like a comfortable position at all but that’s not the point here) and flashed a brilliant smile. “Adrien… Dad… Dadrien... have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Not nearly enough. What did you do?”

“I…” He looked away. “... should probably get ahead of this. Don’t get mad, please?”

“We’ll see.”

Dick slowly scooted away from the spot and Adrien sighed deeply.

Because on the wall, in crayon, was a bunch of doodles.

But, upon closer inspection, he realized they were doodles of Chat Noir and Ladybug and a tiny little person with black hair.

Do not think it’s cute do not think it’s cute do not think it’s cute --.

He took a few deep breaths before turning to Dick. “Go get some cleaning stuff. We have a few hours before Mari gets back.”

He mumbled a thanks and then rushed out to go find cleaning supplies.

Adrien snapped a photo while he was gone.

Marinette and Jason were struggling.

It was hard to get this kid to buy anything at all, she had tried to get him just another hoodie and he had taken one look at the price tag before flinging it as far away from him as he possibly could.

Man, how was she supposed to get him a mattress if this was how he was going to react to a bunch of ten dollar hoodies?

She would have thrown her hands up in frustration if that wouldn’t have disturbed her coffee. “Fine. We won’t buy anything. Do you have anything we can bring?”

Jason hesitated, then shook his head.

Okay, an obvious lie but she wasn’t going to call him out on it. He was probably still wary of them and their kindness and wanted to keep that backup open. She understood.

Well, she didn’t understand because she’d never been in that kind of situation, but she would respect it.

“Fine. You’ll have to live with hand-me-downs. Are you alright with that?”

Jason relaxed a little, nodding.

She gave a tired smile.

She’d have to do something about Dick’s sleeping arrangements, she’d probably create a hammock or just let him sleep in their bed (it hardly ever got any use, anyways) for the time being. Eventually, Jason might warm up to them enough to let her buy him stuff, and she’d wait for that…

Or he’d run away. But, hopefully not that.

Jason ducked his head and pulled his hoodie up to hide his face and Marinette glanced around. People were staring at them. Fair enough, she doubted that the scruffy hoodie and weathered jeans were making people trust the kid. Still, she stepped towards him and gently grabbed the sleeve of his hoodie to say he was hers.

He cringed almost imperceptibly at her touch. She frowned a little bit, she knew all too well what that meant, but didn’t say anything.

She opted to just glare at the people giving them odd looks, daring any of them to say anything.

They didn’t. Good.

She looked down at the kid and tipped her head to the side.

“I’m going to just shop for the family and you can eat that stuff, okay?”

Jason still looked like he wasn’t happy with it but he nodded.

And, so, she took him to the grocery part of the store. She did what she said she would, shopping for things they would need over the week, but she also watched Jason carefully to see if he liked anything.

The kid clearly knew what she was doing, because he spent most of his time watching her with a neutral expression, but occasionally she’d catch his gaze lingering on a specific product for just a second too long and she’d drop it into the cart.

He couldn’t say anything. He had no proof that they never ate… whatever the hell a Chef Boyardee was.

She found he was mostly looking at cheap, instant meals but that was okay. He’d learn.

She was a baker’s daughter, after all. Everyone in her house would learn what good food was eventually or die by her hand.

Adrien fell back on the couch and groaned. “I have to homeschool another kid!”

“Sucks,” said Dick, who was applying a princess bandaid to a shallow cut on his cheek that he’d gotten that night (the goon who had missed had been pissed that their aim was off... but then pissed themself when the two older vigilantes advancing on him made him realize he had bigger problems).

“It does! I get one kid into college and then I suddenly get another kid to teach!”

Marinette sat on his stomach and he wheezed a little. She didn’t pay this any mind, though. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you adopted another one.”

“He said he felt safer on the streets than in a home! I couldn’t just not adopt him!”

She gave a noncommittal hum.

“Dick! Agree with me!”

The person in question just turned on the TV and started flipping through channels.

Adrien sighed. He was now talking to what may as well have been an empty room. He looked around for the kwamis but they were very determinedly avoiding eye contact while chowing down on their foods of choice. Still, he at least had one person-god-whatever that had to listen to him:

“Plagg.”

The cat kwami gave a long sigh before looking at him. “Adrien, please don’t make me give you my opinion on this. You’re not going to like it.”

He pouted. “Honestly, though, it’s messed up. Is the system really that bad?”

“Yep,” said Marinette.

“Mhmm,” said Dick.

“And aren’t either of you, I don’t know, concerned about it?”

“You guys already donate a bunch of money, what else can you do?”

Adrien frowned, reaching out and pulling his wife down to lay next to him so they both could be comfortable.

Marinette lifted her arms slightly so he could wrap his arms around her and nuzzled into him a little bit (Dick made a gagging noise in the background). “This isn’t really our type of thing, Chaton.”

He nodded reluctantly…

And then gasped.

“But what if it is!”

“What?” She said warily.

“I mean, we’re in Gotham. Everything is connected to crime here! What if the foster and adoption systems are messed up because the mob or something has something to do with it!”

“Did you stretch before that reach?” Asked Dick as he changed the channel.

Adrien huffed. “M’lady, c’mon, I make sense, right?”

She thought for a minute, and then closed her eyes. “Alright, Chaton, if you really want you can go investigate it. If it’s our kind of thing, then we fix it. Okay?”

He beamed.

Marinette was… tired.

So, when she walked into the kitchen and found Jason flinging cabinets open at random and Dick swinging from a ceiling light, she just continued on to the coffee machine.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS THE TRASHCAN?!”

“Language,” Dick murmured absently. He hooked his legs over the light fixture and lowered himself down to open the cabinet beside Marinette, revealing... the trash can.

Jason stared at the cabinet in shock. “But… I opened that one… I know I did…”

“You have to be upside down to access it,” said Dick seriously.

She started up the machine. “Sweetie, don’t tell him that. He’ll break his neck.”

Jason slowly discarded his plate in the trash can, eyes locked on it as if it would disappear if he didn’t keep it in his sight at all times. “Why don’t you just have the trash can out…?”

Dick grinned. “Rich people thing. Can’t let people know you live here.”

“What?”

All he got was two shrugs. They didn’t really understand it either, they just didn’t care enough to do anything about it.

“I hate rich people,” Jason decided eventually.

“Same.”

“Including you.”

“Same.”

Adrien had chosen that exact minute to walk in and was now looking on in horror as Marinette brought an entire coffee pot to her lips and Jason dragged the trash can out into a reasonable place and Dick attempted a trapeze act on the ceiling light.

“I…”

“Morning,” said Marinette, sending a wave.

Adrien looked at the three of them for a few moments before sighing and sitting on the counter.

“Morning.”

Listen, if nothing else, Adrien had faith (... in humanity, religious faith is kinda weird when you have a god living in your jewelry).

This faith had never done him any good but it was there.

So, he had to hope that the problems with the system were things that he could fix as Chat Noir. Otherwise, he’d have to just accept the fact that the system didn’t care about its kids. He couldn’t do that.

The world was evil... but surely it couldn’t be that evil.

Unfortunately for his dreams of fixing everything, he found out that he needed to go to university for at least four years in order to get in. He couldn’t wait that long! People were suffering now!

Good thing he was rich.

Listen, Gotham is messed up. He’s been doing his best to fix it but, dang it, if everyone else can exploit it then he can, too!

(But only to help people. His moral compass was a roulette wheel and using his money to benefit solely himself was one of the lines he wouldn’t cross.)

Dick gave him a jealous look as he held up his new, definitely legitimately earned degree.

And then Jason had stepped into the room and frowned confusedly.

“You’re a social worker?”

“Am now!” He chirped.

“New?”

“Yep! I’m hoping to make it better, if I can.”

Jason gave a tiny laugh. “Oh, so you’re NEW new.”

Well, that wasn’t encouraging.

That night, he managed to catch Marinette before she could head off for patrols. “Do you think what I’m doing is useless?”

“A little bit but…” She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I knew what I was getting into when I married you. I love you, Chaton.”

He frowned a little bit but returned the kiss and whispered his “I love you, too, M’lady.”

“Would you like me to drive you to work?”

He smiled and let her lead him along. That would be good. If he was driven to work then he could get someone to pick him up ‘late’ and give him time to snoop around.

Well, not today. The staff would know if it was his first day. He’d have to give it a month or so before he snooped. But it was good to start that kind of routine early.

When they pulled up to the orphanage, Marinette locked the doors before he could get out.

Crap.

He gave his wife a careful smile. “M’lady?”

“Listen to me: you are not allowed to adopt any of the kids.”

“But --.”

“Nope. No kids. We already have two when we said we were going to have zero. It has to stop.”

He sighed, leaning back in his seat. “What if… what if they’re about to age out?”

Marinette paused. He could see the gears turning in her head as she bit her lip, considering it.

Then she shook her head. “If they’re about to age out you can give them money and support to start out. That’s. All.”

He pouted a little but accepted this answer. It would have to do.

He heard the doors unlock and stepped out. He looked up at the building and suppressed a cringe. It looked like the kind of orphanage that you see in movies that always have an evil director. This was a good thing for him as Chat Noir but a bad thing when you consider that there are actual kids living there.

Adrien stepped inside, all too aware of his nerves.

After all, he was technically unprepared. Did he know basic medicine? Was he good with kids? Did he know how to teach even kids with challenges? Yes to all of that. Still, he couldn’t help but worry that maybe the four years of college that were asked of him could have taught him something that he would need.

Relax, he told himself.

This did nothing, and really only served to make him more anxious, but hush.

He was given the day to tour the place, and he was originally disappointed. Surely, this couldn’t be it. All the beds were crammed in one room! Some of the beds didn’t even have fitted sheets!

But then his mind wandered to Jason. They never found him asleep in any of the beds, instead finding him passed out with a thin blanket in the corner or, at best, in an armchair. He hardly ever slept alone, either, usually opting to choose whatever room had two or more people in it to sleep.

He had to remind himself that these kids were likely on the streets for at least a few months of their lives, and likely would have adapted to that.

It didn’t make him feel any better, though.

Adrien didn't let any of this show on his face, instead smiling as he introduced himself to the kids he passed. A few gave wary looks, others gave awkward smiles, and some didn’t even seem to notice him.

He didn’t know what he was expecting. He was their new teacher, people usually aren’t all that eager to meet those.

He hoped he could help, though.

Marinette clicked her tongue when she found Jason reading in his current favorite hiding space: under Dick’s bed.

“Sweetie, you’re going to get squished under there.”

He didn’t answer, probably because there was a flashlight in his mouth.

She leaned down to see if she could figure out a way that he could stay down there without getting hurt and scrunched up her nose at a smell.

“Is there… are you keeping food down there?”

Jason finally looked at her, his eyes wide. He quickly moved in front of the stash so she couldn’t get to it and pulled the flashlight from his mouth to speak: “It’s mine.”

“It’s spoiled,” she said, shaking her head. “You can hoard food if that makes you happy but at least make sure it’s something that won’t go bad, please. How about cereal -- no, actually, the kid would kill me if I gave you that… what about nutrition bars?”

“Those aren’t actually that healthy, you know.”

She gave a tiny shrug. “You’re right, they’re not, but they don’t spoil quickly and they have at least some kind of nutritional value.”

He hesitated, then reluctantly pushed the stash of food in her direction. She sifted through it to pull out any food that was still good, and then handed that over.

He looked at the tinier pile and then gave her a tiny smile.

“Thank you.”

She nodded. “I’ll go out and get some nutrition bars.”

His eyes widened. “You don’t have --.”

“Don’t worry about it. I was already going to start buying them to try and wean your brother off of cereal. This is just an added bonus,” she lied so he wouldn’t feel guilty about using her money.

He looked reluctant but still nodded.

She beamed and stood again, the spoiled food in her arms.

She yelled to Dick that Jason was under his bed again so he needed to be careful, then put a sticky note on his bed and door so he’d remember, then tossed the food.

And then she started towards the store.

Teaching all day and then coming home to teach another kid was… something.

Good thing Adrien had the patience of a saint from years of schooling Dick.

Jason groaned and fell back on the couch, covering his face with the textbook. “This is soooooo boring. I already know this stuff!”

“The test you took says differently,” said Adrien as he closed his copy.

All he got was another groan.

He sighed and closed his eyes. Whatever. He was exhausted. He’d take the night off. “Alright, fine, you’re bored. What do you want to do?”

Jason lifted the book from his face so he could send his dad a confused look.

“You have to enjoy something. Y’know, a hobby or something?”

Jason’s face reddened a little and he nodded, toying with some of the rings on his fingers. “I have one... but you can’t laugh if I tell you.”

“I wouldn’t.”

He mumbled something that she couldn’t make out, and Adrien frowned. “Sorry?”

He took a deep breath and then whispered his answer: “Iliketoread.”

It took a moment for his brain to catch up, and then he felt a wide smile stretch across his face. A kid? That reads?

He pushed himself up to his feet.

“I have a library card that’s been gathering dust for the past few years. C’mon.”

Jason raised his eyebrows. “It’s been gathering dust? Why?”

“Uh… let’s just say I’ve been kind of busy with other things.”

“That sucks.”

He considered this, his head tipping to the side, then he nodded. “It does. I should read more.”

“You should.”

Adrien laughed a little. “Have any suggestions?”

Jason’s eyes lit up.

Marinette hummed absently as she stepped into the kitchen and then frowned as her eyes flicked between Dick and Jason, who were looking very intensely at a plate.

She stepped closer and rolled her eyes. It seemed they were dividing up the last cookie from her baking session last night.

Was she concerned that they had managed to eat all the cookies in the few hours since she had finished them? A little. But not that concerned. At least she knew they were getting calories.

But now she was just amused. Because they were using a ruler and a pencil and paper to figure out what exactly half was.

Dick seemed to finish his math first, because he picked up a knife and positioned it over the cookie.

“Careful!” Said Jason.

Marinette snickered. “Boys, I may have a solution for you.”

They looked up with confused expressions.

“I can… you know I can just make more, right?”

Jason looked like he was going to protest... but then Dick swiped the cookie and stuffed it into his mouth. He watched on in horror for a few moments before his face hardened.

“You live up to your name, Dickwad.”

Dick gasped. “Rude!”

“Oh, so I’m rude? You want to know what’s actually rude? It’s --.”

Marinette grinned as she sipped at her coffee. She’d intervene if things went too far but, for the time being, she was perfectly fine just watching.

Jason’s eyes found her and he brought a cheeky grin to his face. “Hey, mom, if you’re going to make cookies then Dickwad can’t have any, right?”

“What? No! Mari -- Mom -- Mominette!”

“Mom!”

She tried not to laugh at the chorus of ‘Mom’s as she started pulling down ingredients.

After a month and a half of gaining the trust of the orphanage staff and kids, he managed to sneak into the director’s room and look through the financial records.

He snapped pictures of every page and then slipped out through the window.

When he got home he pulled the pictures up on a bigger monitor and started looking over them with Dick and Marinette at his side.

The longer he looked the more he frowned.

“It’s not an evil plot. I don’t know what to do when it’s not an evil plot,” he said eventually.

Marinette rested her head on his shoulder. “Of course it’s not. Even if criminals benefit from the system being broken, they don’t need to do anything to keep it that way. Even good cities have terrible adoption and foster systems.”

“There has to be something we can do!”

She and Dick exchanged exhausted looks.

“There has to be something we can do.” He repeated, frowning. “We’re rich!”

“We don’t have enough to beat out a mob boss in political donations, Chaton, much less a bunch of them.”

He sighed.

Marinette slipped her hand into his and was silent for a while, trying to think of a way to cheer him up. She squeezed a little tighter and he looked over with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey, speaking of mob bosses, the kid and I have been closing in on one’s location. You want in? You always like beating them up...”

“I guess it has been a while since we’ve done that…”

They had been about two seconds away from just pushing the emotions down like they usually did, but then Dick had gasped and pushed himself to his feet.

“We can’t fix homes, but we can always make things easier when they leave.”

“We already agreed to give them money when they age out, sweetie.”

“Nonononono not like that!” Dick was pacing, now. “You guys know a lot of people, right?”

“I do…” said Adrien carefully.

“Then use that! Help them get into the fields they want to get into.”

“That’s…” Adrien pulled out his phone to translate the word to English. “... nepotism.”

Marinette shrugged absently. “We kill people, Chaton, this is hardly the place to draw the line. I can probably get them into the designing world if I wanted.”

“I could do circuses or law.”

Adrien sighed and closed his eyes. He figured he should just be glad that they were trying to help.

“... I can get modelling and any other field that I know someone in… I’d need to make some calls...”

The happiness that came along with finding a solution, weak as it was, lasted about a month.

Marinette smiled and wiped some blood from her husband’s cheek so she could give him a kiss.

“Feel better?”

“A little,” he admitted.

She smiled and tipped her head back to look at Dick, who was tying up the last of the henchmen. “You’ve had faster times, sweetie.”

“I would’ve gone faster if you were helping instead of ‘french kissing’ over here.”

“We weren’t --!” She clicked her tongue when both of the guys started laughing. “You’re hilarious. C’mon, we need to get out before the cops get here.”

They slipped out into the streets as sirens blared in the distance and detransformed.

Marinette hummed lightly as they made their way through back alleys. After all, their detransformations only got rid of the suits, not the blood… it would look a little weird if three people covered in blood were just walking through the streets.

Adrien opened the door for them, and she stepped inside…

Only to go pale.

Because Jason was up, watching a show. He had probably woken up and decided to wait until people were back to sleep. The three vigilantes went completely still, save for the quiet squeak of surprise that left Dick’s lips.

Jason looked over and his eyes widened.

“Uh… we can explain?” Said Marinette.

He screamed and scrambled off the couch as quickly as possible and made a mad dash for the kitchen.

The three vigilantes looked at each other, then followed after him.

Her eyes searched the kitchen and found him hidden under a table...

Oh. He had a knife. Fun.

Adrien pushed Dick behind them.

She held up her hands placatingly. “Sweetie…”

“NO! WHAT THE FUCK?! NO! I KNEW YOU GUYS WERE TOO NICE TO BE TRUE BUT WHAT?! THE FUCK?! MURDERERS?! COME ON!”

Adrien sighed. “I… we aren’t… well… we kind of are… but...”

“Not helping,” Dick muttered.

Marinette bit her lip as she considered what to do to make Jason relax, then groaned. “Tikki. Spots on.”

Somehow, Jason’s eyes went wider when she transformed.

“WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK?! YOU GUYS ARE VIGILANTES?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

Adrien sighed.

The other two transformed as well.

Jason had gone into shock…

Progress?

They detransformed now that they had shown him the truth.

“Now that you know that we won’t hurt you, can you… put the knife down? Please? That’s the good knife and --?” She felt the glares of the other two vigilantes on the back of her head and winced. “Okay, maybe not the most important reason why... knives are sharp. We don’t like sharp things. They hurt.”

The kid did, in fact, put down the knife. This was probably just because he was stunned and on autopilot but at least he was no longer armed.

Marinette carefully walked over and picked it up off the ground. A pout made its way onto her face as she looked at the blade. It had scratches on it…

She saw Adrien’s disapproving look and huffed, tossing it into the sink a few feet away and then turning to the kid next to her.

“This wasn’t how we wanted you to find out…”

The boys made their way over as well and they all sat in a wide circle around the kid. They didn’t want him to feel alone but they also didn’t want to crowd him.

“We didn’t really want you to know at all, we just wanted to be a stable family for you,” explained Adrien.

Jason was emerging from his shock slowly, his breathing was picking up.

Marinette peeled her jacket off and draped it over his shoulders gently.

“We promise we won't force you to be a vigilante. In fact, we’d probably feel better if you weren’t one. You’re a kid,” said Adrien.

“But,” added Dick. His parents glared at him but he continued anyways: “If you want, then we won’t stop you. You’re old enough by our family standards, so we can’t really stop you if you want to. Just tell us and we’ll get you a miraculous that suits you and some training.”

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

Dick gave her a bit of side-eye. “What? It’s not like we would be able to stop him if he wanted to be a vigilante. I’d prefer that he at least be safe… -ish.”

Jason curled up in the jacket and closed his eyes. “Can I have some time to think about it? About… everything?”

“Of course, sweetie.” Marinette scooted away a little so he could get past her and he rushed out.

The three watched him go in silence. They heard the front door slam behind him.

She closed her eyes. “Sweetie, go after him? Make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”

Dick gave a quiet “Okay” and transformed. With a shrill note, he was gone.

Adrien and Marinette were left alone.

She felt him crawl over to her and pull her into him.

“He’ll be okay,” said Adrien softly.

She bit her lip and then buried her face in his shoulder.

Over the next few weeks they heard people in the house.

He made sure to never acknowledge it. It could be Dick coming back for food or to grab some homework to do while watching over his brother, or it could be Jason.

He always hoped it would be Jason… but now that it actually was he felt a surge of anxiety.

Firstly, Marinette wasn’t home. Nygma had just announced his most recent death trap to the city and she’d had to rush out to deal with it.

Secondly, Dick had a class at the moment.

Thirdly, Adrien was just really tired. He’d spent the entire day teaching, of course he was tired. He wouldn’t be at the top of his game.

This was probably an intentional move on Jason’s part. It was a good idea to take precautions, Adrien would have been proud if he wasn’t so nervous.

He looked up from his spot on the couch and gave a careful smile. “Hey, Jay.”

Jason hesitated and then disappeared to the kitchen. He came back with a knife.

Ah. Great.

Adrien knew he could beat a child with a knife, that didn’t mean he wanted to.

Jason sat on the couch opposite Adrien and pointed his knife at him. “I want to ask some questions.”

“Of course. Anything.”

He nodded and lowered his knife ever so slightly. “Okay… why did you adopt me?”

Adrien frowned a little bit. “You were a kid that was so desperate for money that you were stealing a bunch of rich people’s hubcaps. I couldn’t not adopt you.”

“There’s a lot of people like that. Why me? I attacked you. There had to be better, safer options.”

“I…” His frown deepened. This was true. Why had he felt so drawn to Jason in particular? “I guess it could have been Marinette’s luck? One of her side-effects is that she has really good luck. I wouldn’t be surprised if we adopted the exact kid that was perfect for our family.”

Jason nodded a little bit, though he looked skeptical.

Fair enough. Adrien was also a little skeptical of his answer. He had a theory about what was going on but it wasn’t like he’d ever be able to prove it.

“Next question: what did Dick mean when he said that I was old enough to be a vigilante ‘by your standards’?”

Adrien winced a little bit. “You said you’re about thirteen, right? Well, Dick and I started at twelve and Mari started at thirteen.”

Jason gave him an incredulous look, then apparently got over it. “Oh. Okay. And… why did you start doing this?”

“Uh… odd question…” He pursed his lips. “It’s hard to explain. I… had an image to keep up and Chat Noir was -- still is, actually -- my outlet for me to be myself in public. Mari, I think, was more or less thrown into the life and then, when she finally had an out, couldn’t imagine herself without it. Dick wanted to get revenge on the person who got his parents killed and then decided to keep going.”

He frowned. “You make it sound addictive.”

“Oh, yeah, it definitely is.” Adrien sighed. “There’s a lot of reasons why we didn’t tell you but that was one of them. When you start you don’t stop. We made that mistake with Dick, we’re hoping that you’ll not do it.”

Jason set the knife down, finally. “But you wouldn’t stop me if I still wanted to?”

He winced. “No. If you wanted to then we’d give you a miraculous -- powers -- and you’d get to go out and fight crime.”

“You trust me?” He said with a laugh.

“Should I not?”

He rolled his eyes. “I grew up on the streets. Most people don’t.”

“Jay, no offense but I’m not scared of you. You could have stolen from us or attempted to hurt us at any point over the last few months and you didn’t.”

“You’re vigilantes! It’s not like I could have done any of that!”

He shrugged and stretched out lazily. “You’re right, you wouldn't have succeeded. But you didn’t know that. You thought we were just some really trusting rich people.”

Jason considered this with a frown, and then he looked at Adrien. “I want to be a vigilante.”

He groaned a little bit but nodded. “Fine. Take off your -- Mari’s -- whatever -- THE jacket and the hoodie for a minute so I can see who should train you?”

The kid looked a little uncomfortable but he did comply.

Adrien frowned at all the tiny scars but didn’t say anything as he carefully examined his build. Definitely closer to him than Marinette or Dick.

He would take up the physical aspect of training, then.

“Right, how much do you know about self-defense?”

The four of them sat on the floor, sifting through the different miraculi for ones that could protect Jason in battle.

Marinette hummed to herself as she sifted through her pile.

After a minute, Dick held up the turtle miraculous. “This one can keep him safe -- wait a minute, why didn’t I get this one?”

“Didn’t match your fighting style or personality,” said Adrien absently, his head tipping from side to side as he considered the miraculous.

“If we want to give him that one then he’s going to need a different weapon. What would you like, sweetie?”

Jason thought for a minute, staring at Wayzz.

Then his eyes lit up. “Can I have a gun?”

“I…” Began Marinette, then she shrugged. “Actually, we could probably use another long-distance fighter on the team.”

“And it keeps him a pretty safe distance away from the fighting…” Agreed Adrien.

Dick hesitated. “But guns are pretty lethal. He isn’t an adult.”

“Damn, that really is going to come back to bite me, huh?”

Jason frowned. “What? What’s going on?”

“Basically, we have a rule that says kids aren’t allowed to kill,” said Adrien, sending his wife a tired glare.

She gave him a tense smile in return. “Killing people messes you up, so we’re trying to keep you guys away from it.”

Jason hesitated a little bit. “I’ve kinda… already…”

The three others’ eyes widened and they gave each other nervous glances. Jason couldn’t seem to finish, and they didn’t ask him to. They could guess what he was trying to get at.

And they didn’t know how to respond. Their problem had been with introducing kids to murder, because they knew that it was something you never really came back from… but he’d already done it...

They figured that, from the way he said it, he had probably had no choice in the matter and was regretting doing it…

“I guess… we let him kill if he wants?” Said Adrien slowly.

Dick scratched his head. “I guess?”

The three of them shrugged at each other. It was probably -- no, definitely -- not the right decision but they really didn’t know what to do.

“I think he’d look cute with pistols,” said Marinette after a few minutes of silence.

Adrien, who was the only other person who had seen the turtle miraculous’s suit, nodded his agreement.

Jason transformed for the first time.

Dick nodded as well. “Pistols would be cute.”

Adrien smiled as he watched Jason mess around with his new powers.

There wasn’t much to them. They created a force field around an item or person of your choosing that held for as long as you stayed awake…

Still, he was proud of him. Baby’s first powers and all.

The three older vigilantes were casually throwing things and hitting the forcefield in an attempt to break it, and Jason was holding up surprisingly well.

“So, what’re you going to call yourself?” Adrien asked as he drummed his staff on it.

Jason thought for a minute and then smiled. “How about… Green Helmet?”

Marinette hit the force field too hard and the cane came back to hit her in the head, which could not be helping her growing headache.

She pursed her lips tightly as she lowered herself down into a chair. “You… you have a hood.”

“I disagree.”

“You can’t -- I’m literally a designer! My word is law! That’s a hood!”

“Nope.”

“Chaton! Tell him that’s a hood!”

Adrien sighed. “It’s a hood,” he agreed.

Everyone looked at Dick, who was beginning to look like he’d rather be anywhere else. He eyed the door out of the corner of his eyes as if wondering whether he could get away before they caught him.

He must have come to the conclusion that he couldn’t get there in time, because he gave his answer:

“It… could be a helmet if he wants it to be…”

Adrien rolled his eyes as the family erupted into an argument over what constitutes a hood versus what constitutes a helmet.

Marinette hummed lightly as she made brownies (she had faith, okay? No one was helping this time so it should work). Jason was sitting in a chair nearby, head resting on the back of it as he watched her.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” She asked. It was normal for Jason to watch her cook, he liked to keep his eye on food when he could, but he seemed almost… anxious. She could hear the gentle clinking of his rings as he messed with them.

“I… I want to buy something,” he said.

She dropped her bag of sugar into the bowl and hissed a string of curses as she looked at the now definitely ruined batter. Sure, she could technically go through and try to fix the ratios by adding more of everything else, but that would make enough brownies to feed a whole army --.

Wait a minute, what had he said?

Her eyes flicked to Jason. “Sorry? You want to buy something?”

He nodded with a tiny smile. “It’s a little expensive, I’m sorry, but… could we?”

Marinette was willing to buy a car if this kid asked, because he was ASKING HER TO BUY SOMETHING OH MY GOD, but she played it cool with a tiny nod.

“Sure, sweetie, let me just see how much it costs.”

He pulled up a picture on his phone and showed it to her.

It was a hardcover copy of an illustrated version of a book he liked. For forty dollars.

Okay, so he wasn’t asking for much, but it was still something! An improvement!

She smiled. “Sure, sweetie, I’ll get it next time I head out, okay?”

Jason beamed.

Adrien rolled his eyes when Dick flung himself across the couch dramatically.

“This isn’t faaaaiiiiir,” he whined.

He looked at his wife pleadingly and she clicked her tongue before lifting Dick’s head so she could sit down. She ran her fingers through her kid’s hair in an attempt to soothe him.

“He already knew a bit of self-defense when we met him so that was fine and we even gave extra time on training in his powers and with guns. We literally have no excuses for bringing him on at this point.”

“But I had to train for three years! He only had to do one!”

Jason grinned. “Maybe I’m just better.”

“Jay,” said Adrien exhaustedly.

“Or the favorite,” he added, his grin somehow growing.

“Jay!”

It was a good thing that Marinette had had a hold on Dick, because if she hadn’t he probably would have launched himself at his brother.

“You weren’t of age, he is,” she reminded him. “If you’d been old enough a year in then we would have let you do crime fighting, too.”

This was a lie, Dick had not been at all prepared after a year of training, but it made the kid smile so at least that was good.

Adrien stretched out from his spot in the window. “Right, we let Dick choose his first mission, what do you want to do first?”

Jason broke into a wide grin.

“There were some people who gave all the homeless kids trouble…”

They’d tracked the gang’s activities to a warehouse and had filed inside.

Adrien had helped Marinette carry their kids to the trusses above them (neither of their weapons had an easy way up, though they made mental notes to get them some kind of… grappling hook, maybe? It was a work in progress idea).

Dick shrouded them in shadows and muted the squeaking of their boots on the metal as they slowly made their way to the gang.

Adrien stretched his shoulders a little bit and then dangled his legs over to prepare himself for the jump down. Marinette and Dick copied his stance.

They looked at Jason, who gulped a little before copying the stance.

They hopped down as a family…

Because nothing says family bonding like murdering a bunch of gang members.

“Hey?”

Adrien looked up and frowned, alarm bells ringing in his ears. Jason was shuffling from foot to foot anxiously from his spot in the doorway. An anxious kid? This couldn’t be good...

“Yes, Jay?”

Jason messed with his rings.

“Since I’m going to be… here for a while, can we take the car to pick up my stuff?”

Adrien would have pinched himself to check if this was a dream if any of his dreams were ever this nice.

He dropped the book he was reading onto the bed and pushed himself up. “I -- wow! Okay! Of course!”

Jason gave an awkward smile.

Adrien tried not to smile too much as he followed the kid’s directions.

Mainly because this might dredge up bad memories for Jason, and he didn’t want to be too caught up in his euphoria of the kid genuinely accepting being part of the family to notice that he was shutting down.

But, to his surprise, Jason actually seemed just as excited.

They pulled up to a mostly abandoned looking greenhouse and Adrien raised his eyebrows slightly.

“What? I could grow myself food! It was good,” Jason defended himself.

He gave a smile, rolling his eyes. “Sorry, I was just trying to imagine you eating vegetables.”

Jason huffed a little bit and then held up a hand for Adrien to wait. He crouched down and then, after a bit of pushing, popped a pane of glass out of place. He set it down and then crawled through.

There was a bit of rustling inside and then the door swung open.

“Behold! My humble abode!”

Adrien raised his eyebrows as he stepped inside. ‘Humble’ was definitely the word for it…

His eyes scanned around and he had to hold back a frown at how little Jason had. There were a few plants. A bunch of vines and leaves had been piled together to make a makeshift ‘bed’ with a few blankets thrown overtop. A few random clothes were strewn about, all in varying states of shabbiness.

(There was also a bucket in the corner. Adrien was deciding to believe that it was for washing clothes.)

The only thing that Jason had really ‘had’ was the entire nook dedicated to books.

Adrien and Jason grabbed everything of importance to him and put it in the back of the car.

And then they started on their way home.

~~~

Taglist

@i-am-ironic @nathleigh @mialuvscats @golden-promises @sassakitty @deathwishy @toodaloo-kangaroo @ladythugs @moonlightstar64

#maribat #adrienette #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #adrien agreste #chat noir #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #cassandra cain #orphan #damian wayne #robin

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