#doodled her to get myself warmed up to ACTUALLY figure her head out and maybe do the fic a bit more but like. Aaa???

[magpiesbones]

.

[thevoidfishsminstrel]

Lena let out an undignified squeak as she grabbed hold of the bookshelf beside her in an effort to not land on her face.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Lena turned, wiggling her foot back into her heels properly, before freezing, eyes widening at the caped figure now scrambling to her feet.

An array of books and magazines were spread out on the floor, presumably the culprit of her latest near death experience. It was as though National City’s newly revealed superhero had been sitting in between the bookshelves on the library floor… studying?

Lena clutched the cheesy romance novel she had been too busy reading to her chest as Supergirl looked at her in concern.

“Miss?”

Lena’s brain finally restarted and she cleared her throat, straightening her blazer. “Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Supergirl was wringing the edge of her cape in her fingers, looking far too nervous for someone who was suspected to be the strongest being on Earth by several sapphic blogs that Lena most definitely did not read.

“I’m fine.” She reached out to put a hand on Supergirl’s forearm in an impulse comfort gesture. “I promise.”

Supergirl seemed to relax slightly, some of the tension seeping from her shoulders. She held out a hand. “I’m Kara.”

Any tension that had left her immediately returned tenfold, eyes widening in panic as she froze.

Lena bit back a smile and took Kara’s hand, shaking it despite Kara’s lack of movement. “Lena. And don’t worry - your secret’s safe with me.”

Kara deflated, running a hand through her hair. “Alex is going to kill me.”

Lena laughed and patted Kara’s bicep (definitely the strongest being on Earth). “Maybe you should stop saying names now.”

Kara grimaced. “Oops.” She looked like she was about to say something else but stopped and looked at Lena again. “Wait… are you Lena Luthor?”

Lena straightened up, careful mask falling into place to try to hide the way her heart sped up and her throat constricted. “Yes.”

But before she could launch into her speech about how she was different from the rest of her family and only wanted to help, Kara lit up, crouching down to shuffle through her piles of literature until she came up with an issue of a science magazine from a few years ago.

“I just read your article about sustainable building and how we can introduce cost-effective eco-friendly measures to construction to reduce the damage done to the environment and promote a symbiotic relationship with nature.”

Lena blinked.

Kara almost poked herself in the eye before redirecting the movement to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry, I just thought it was really interesting. You’re probably tired of people asking you about your work.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. “No I… I don’t mind.”

Kara smiled and Lena found her heart racing for an entirely different reason. She redirected her attention to the books scattered on the floor.

“So what’s National City’s resident superhero doing studying civil engineering, first aid and… veterinary science on the floor of the library?”

Kara blushed and knelt down to start scooping up all her things. “Sorry - I know I should have been at a desk I just got carried away.”

The pile of books was up to Kara’s eyebrows when she stood up and Lena laughed, taking the top third of them from her. “And I shouldn’t have been reading and walking. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Supergirl shrugged, toeing at the worn carpet with her red boots. “I’m new at the whole superhero thing. I don’t know where to freeze breath a building to hold it up or how to save someone who’s got water in their lungs from almost drowning. The other day I rescued a snake from a tree and tried to wrap it up in my cape to keep it warm and the owner told me ‘thanks, but reptiles are cold-blooded so they don’t warm up like that.’” She pouted at Lena. “The owner was a ten year old.”

Lena bit back a smile. “So you’re trying to learn how to be a better superhero?”

She shrugged and bit her lip. “I just don’t want to mess up.”

Lena considered her for a moment. “You know, I happen to have degrees in a few different kinds of engineering. And I made everyone at L-corp, including myself, take a first aid course when I took over.”

Kara looked as though she was trying to contain her hopeful expression. It wasn’t working very well, although that probably wasn’t surprising since her motto was ‘hope, help, and compassion for all.’

Kara bounced on her toes excitedly. “Would you help?”

Lena grinned and gestured to the left with her head. “Come on, I know which desk is the best in the library.”

———

It became somewhat of a routine after that. Every Saturday, Lena would go to the library as normal, pick out a new cheesy romance novel for the week and some kind of thick science book to hide it underneath, and then meet Supergirl in the back corner of the library, at the desk hidden behind the spare computers from the 90s where no one would find them.

Kara would normally already be there, pouring over texts and making notes in coloured pens and highlighters. Lena had bought her a rainbow of folders and dividers for each of the aspects of superheroing she was trying to improve in, and they had spent one very unproductive but fun day labelling and decorating them. They were now covered in random doodles, squiggly multicoloured patterns, and stickers that Kara had found in a rotating rack by the front desk, immediately claiming were essential for her learning.

During the week, Lena would keep an eye on any news of Supergirl, getting some strange looks from Jess when she walked into her office to see Lena cheering as Kara did something they’d worked on together. At the weekend she would listen to Kara excitedly retell those same events until the librarian came over to shush them. She seemed to be the only person in National city that wasn’t completely charmed by Supergirl, and it always led to half an hour of Kara pouting and asking Lena why the librarian didn’t like her.

It was a few weeks before Lena got there first. She frowned, checking the surrounding isles of books for any caped figures but they were all empty as usual.

She sat at their desk and opened up the book she had randomly grabbed off a shelf, putting her latest romance novel inside it to covertly read. It was called ‘Lost and Found: A Love Story’, the back of it claiming it was about a woman who ‘drops her scarf at a train station but ends up finding something much more meaningful in the woman she bumps into at the lost and found.’ It was exactly as awful as it sounded.

Kara bounded up to the table about 20 minutes later, a coffee cup in each hand and a satchel slung over her shoulder that made her cape bunch up awkwardly. She beamed at Lena and set a coffee down in front of her.

“Guess what I just did.”

Lena slammed the books shut inside each other, scrambling to put her arms over them and rest her chin in her hand casually. “What?”

Kara either didn’t notice or didn’t care, rounding the desk and putting her bag down on it with a grin. “I laservisioned the supports of a broken crane back together using some metal from a billboard and now it’s totally fine for use again.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. “What happened to the crane in the first place?”

Kara’s cheeks heated and she looked away, rubbing the back of her neck as she mumbled, “I may have flown into it a little bit.”

She scowled at Lena as Lena started laughing but it was undermined by the way her lips tugged up.

“Oh!” Kara lit up and started rifling through her bag. “I brought you this.”

She held out a book with a bright smile. Lena’s eyes widened as she looked down at the cover of what was very clearly another cheesy romance.

“It’s my favourite love story. It’s a bit like the one you’re reading at the moment but better, in my opinion. I thought you might like it.”

“What?” Lena scoffed. “I wasn’t reading a romance. I was reading…” she glanced over to check what book she had picked up, internally filling with regret as she read the title, but she had already committed to the facade. “The rhyming dictionary.”

Kara was very clearly trying not to laugh. “Ok. Well I’ll just leave this one here. And in case you didn’t know,” she leaned closer to Lena’s ear as she climbed into her seat, and whispered, “I have x-ray vision.”

Lena blushed, refusing to look at Kara’s smug grin. She cleared her throat and moved her books off to the side, along with the one Kara had put down, as casually as possible, and attempted to change the subject.

“So you remembered about weight distribution in support structures?”

Kara paused in taking folders and notes out her bag to turn to Lena excitedly, rambling on about her save, gesturing wildly with her hands.

Lena picked up her coffee as she listened with a soft smile, absentmindedly taking a sip.

She frowned down at the cup. “Is this my usual?”

Kara paused in her rambling. “Yeah. Does it not taste right?”

Lena shook her head, staring back down at her perfect coffee, cheeks heating at the heart drawn in latte art that Kara probably didn’t even have anything to do with. “No I just… I didn’t know you knew my order.”

Kara grinned, raising an eyebrow (Lena should never have taught her how to do that). “Perhaps you’re not as elusive as you think, Lena Luthor.”

———

Lena arrived at the library one Saturday to find Supergirl staring at the front doors like she might set light to them any moment.

“What’s wrong Supergirl? Lose a fight with a door handle?”

Kara turned to her with a pout, pointing at a sign hanging on the other side of the glass. It read ‘Library closed until 23rd due to water damage. Apologies for the inconvenience.’

Lena sighed.

“Where am I going to get my books for this week, Lena? I’m never going to understand civil engineering without them.”

Lena bit the inside of her cheek, the rational part of her brain at war with the part that was helpless to the superhero’s pout. It had to be one of her superpowers because Lena would never admit she was actually soft.

She tore her gaze away, trying to seem casual. “I actually have some engineering textbooks at my apartment. I guess you could borrow them if you wanted.”

Lena squeaked as Supergirl crushed her in a bear hug, lifting her a few inches off the ground. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

Lena laughed, trying to turn it inconspicuously into a cough when a passerby gave a slightly shocked and confused look at the sight of a Luthor and a Super laughing on the library steps. Kara dropped her back to her feet, stepping back with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, I got excited.”

Lena shook her head with a smile. She turned to go but as she went to gesture for Kara to follow, her hand caught against Kara’s. Her brain misfired and decided in the split second where her index finger hooked onto Kara’s pinkie that the best course of action was to commit to it and simply hold hands. In an attempt to make it seem less affectionate and more practical, she walked off quickly, dragging Kara along in the direction of her apartment.

She could feel Kara’s smile like rays of sun behind her. At least her hair was down to cover up the heat that was creeping up the back of her neck.

Her apartment was only a few minutes from the library. She had to slap Kara’s hand away from the elevator buttons before she pressed them all, marveling at how many floors there were.

“So this is where you live?” Kara looked around the hallway, panicking when she snapped a leaf off of a decorative plant, while Lena unlocked the penthouse door.

Lena pretended not to see her discreetly dropping the leaf into the plant pot but raised an eyebrow at her. “No, Supergirl. I just decided we should come and stare at this random person’s door.”

Kara ignored her, walking past into her apartment and looking down at the city below through the large floor to ceiling windows. “Nice view. I should take you flying sometime - it’s even better from up in the clouds, especially at night.”

Lena closed the front door, trying not to think about romantic flights and being cradled in strong arms. “I’ll go get the textbooks.”

She moved towards her home office, Kara trailing behind in interest. The engineering textbooks were over in the left corner and she scanned the alphabetised section for the ones she wanted.

Kara ran her fingers over the spines of books until Lena was done. She smirked at Lena, letting her hand trail teasingly down the bookshelf before she left. Lena blushed as she realised why. Kara had found her fiction section, over half the books in which were very clearly a certain genre.

Lena groaned and followed her out.

They spent the entire afternoon on the floor around Lena’s coffee table, going through the textbooks, laughing over Kara’s constant puns, and eating the seemingly endless supply of snacks Kara produced from her bag. It wasn’t until the sun had started to set that Lena realised how long they’d spent simply telling jokes and stories.

It was alarmingly easy to just be around Kara. Strangely, Lena didn’t think she minded.

———

Lena frowned as someone knocked on her door. It was a Saturday morning and she was just about to leave to meet Supergirl at the library.

She only grew more confused as she opened the door to see a fluffy white cloud panting happily at her and squirming in her direction. A head poked out from behind it, looking just as happy.

“Lena, hi! Sorry to just turn up but the mean librarian lady threw me out because apparently you aren’t allowed to play fetch in the library.”

Lena stared at the woman currently holding a large puppy in front of her, familiar blonde curls pinned back and glasses slipping down her nose. “…Kara?”

Kara blinked at her for a moment before she seemed to realise. “Oh! Right. Sorry - this is what I look like normally. When I’m not being Supergirl I mean. Alex said I wasn’t allowed to wear the suit all the time because it had to be washed.”

Lena nodded slowly, trying to reconcile the image of this Kara with Supergirl and to not think too hard about the implications of Kara being comfortable enough around her to show her her civilian identity. “Right. Why do you have a dog?”

Kara lit up. “I saved an animal shelter from a fire and they let me adopt this guy. Isn’t he adorable?”

Lena looked at the matching faces of excitement. “Very cute. But why is he here?”

Kara shrugged. “Well I couldn’t leave him after I’d just adopted him so I thought he could join us for our study session?”

Lena crossed her arms and Kara pouted. It was somewhat undermined by the puppy licking her face and making her giggle but Lena was still helpless to resist.

“Ok but he better not mess up any of my stuff.”

“Yes!” Kara grinned, wiggling the puppy excitedly, his ears flopping about.

Kara kissed her cheek on her way into the apartment and Lena’s heart skipped a beat. The puppy licked her in an attempt to join in but even that didn’t stop the way her heart raced.

They settled on the couch, facing each other as Lena quizzed Kara with flashcards. The puppy alternated between curling up in Kara’s lap and zooming around Lena’s living room, falling over his own paws.

“Ok, last one. How do you treat a sprain?”

“Ice it with my freezebreath, wrap it so it’s compressed but not cutting off circulation, keep it elevated.”

Lena grinned proudly. “That’s it! Done.”

Kara threw her hands in the air in delight, squealing as she propelled herself forwards to tackle Lena to the couch. She pulled back just as quickly, pushing up to brace herself over Lena.

“Sorry. I got excited.”

All the breath had deserted Lena’s lungs and she stared up at Kara. A light flush rose on Kara’s cheeks, pale pink against the deep blue of her eyes, bringing out the freckles that dusted her skin.

The flashcards slipped from Lena’s grasp as she surged up to meet Kara’s lips. Kara’s arms almost buckled but she caught herself. And then she was kissing back.

Lena’s hands slid up Kara’s back, practically pulling Kara down on top of her.

They were both breathing hard when they pulled apart, eyes closed and foreheads rested together.

Kara was smiling softly down at her when she finally opened her eyes. She had shifted to hold herself up on one hand and one elbow, her free hand gently stroking back Lena’s hair.

She looked like she was about to say something when she did a double take over the armrest of the couch behind Lena and her soft look turned into a wince. “What was it you said about the puppy not messing up any of your stuff?”

[seraphdarlimg]

wish I were (pt2)

 harry acts like everything is good and dandy but reader sees Heather wearing the sweater

part 1 here

‘heather’ by conan gray WARNINGS - ANGST WORD COUNT - 1,892

A/N: hehe because it was december 3rd, I just had to get this chapter done to post even if it might be a little late but here ya go 

____________________________________________________________

      My guitar rested on my thigh as i brought my head down to lay on the fret, staring at the blank piece of lined paper in front of me. I sighed, turning my head away and just bathed in the silence of the separate room from the main studio. The weight on my chest might of suggested the frustration out of my creative block, unable to produce words or lyrics for the past weeks. Or that I was progressively losing the will to even pick up an instrument, as strumming the strings took a lot of energy for me to do. 

The oversized hoodie I brought kept me warm, but i knew that wasn't satisfying enough. However the idea of wearing one of his hoodies I've place in a closed box in the corner of my apartment hurt too much and that now I'm back in the studio after weeks of trying to avoid coming here at all costs. After the New Year's party, I've done nothing but wallow up in my apartment alone, trying to come up with songs as quickly as possible just so I could get this project done and over with. That proved to be difficult however, especially with Harry trying to call on a normal basis.

  "Helllooo bubs, why haven't you been showing up at the studio eh?" "You said at the beginning of this project that I could work at home whenever I want. I'm just taking you up on that offer." "Of course, you'd remember me sayin' that. How've you been love, haven't seen you in a while though." "Fine, just been doing my job." "Well yeah, can't write all these lovely songs without your talent, can I? You gonna come in tomorrow then?" 

I hesitated for a second, biting my tongue when I felt my eyes pool up again. "I'll just send a pdf of lyrics to you Harry." "O-oh. Well that would conventionally work... yes but you have to come in tomorrow though." "Why? Just text me what you like and don't like about the verses and I'll fix them." "Bubs you know how I feel about in person collaboration. Plus the deadlines are coming up and it'll be easier and faster to have you in the studio." "Okay." He hesitates this time and I could see his brows furrowed together as well as having a hand on his hip. Most likely wearing lose sweats and the knitted cardigan he's been falling in love with over the months. His hair a bit longer than it was last time I saw him and his pink lips quirked to the side in thought. Maybe the bags under his eyes are gone, has been looking more happier lately. More happier than I could of made him to be over the months. "Are you okay?" "I have to go Harry, I'll see you tomorrow." "Oh see yo-"

      He was the first one to greet me when I arrived, and I wanted nothing more than to burst out sobbing when I see his smile. It took everything not to do so, giving him a tight lip smile and quick side hug before sitting down farthest away from him. For the first hour and a half of discussion, I didn't say much and zoned off a lot, tuning in and out of the conversation Harry leaded about a song he had written recently. I felt his glances on me when I turned away, probably sensing my unwillingness to comment so he was considerate enough to not put me under the spotlight in the discussion. In the middle of it, Harry's phone started ringing and he didn't waste a second to excuse himself to answer it. "Hello? Oh hey darling, you almost here?" I froze when he grows a cheesy smile on his face as he walks further to the other side of the studio before telling us to continue without him. I took a deep breathe, not mentally prepared to be in the same room as her. Has she always been coming to the studio or did I just choose to worse day to finally come in? I try to focus doodling in my little notebook, but it grew harder and harder to focus on anything else but the way he crosses his arms and laughs while on the phone with her. From the corner of my eye, it was definite he's completely captivated just hearing her voice and I could just picture the angelic tone of it. I didn't realize I was tapping my pencil till I hear Sarah calling out my name, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Are you okay, haven't seen you in a while." I nodded, putting on a smile. "Yeah sorry, been getting a lot of work opportunities and just a bunch of family stuff that's exhausted me." Sarah gives me a look that resembles one of a mother who knows their child isn't telling the full truth, but she nods and pats my hand. "Completely understandable. But that's exciting, new artists been reaching out to you n' all that?" "Ha surprisingly, considering saying yes to all of them." my smile was growing genuine a little, thinking about how content I was with my career. Being a lyricist and songwriter was a definite risky path to take in terms of stability, but it made me happier knowing I was able to to do. "Oh of course, you can totally do it. Probably wanted to see what all the hype was about when Harry couldn't stop talking about you at every social gathering he's been at." Sarah chuckles, rolling her eyes playfully. "Yeah?" I quickly looked down, feeling my eyes water as the pang in my chest came back. "Mhmm, acts like Thomas and Mitch don't even exist." I laugh lightly at that, fiddling with my fingers as I focused down on my notebook. I found myself in an awkward situation, not knowing how to continue the conversation but knowing I didn't want to try. I love Sarah, but I was close to break down right there if I tried and it was not the place to do so. Not when everyone is trying to meet deadlines and Harry was about to walk in with Heather at any moment. "Hey, I actually have a lot of emails to respond to so I'm gonna be in the other room." I stood up, taking a guitar and my notebook. "Might actually be better for me to focus in." "Sure, we'll let Harry know." I gave her a grateful smile, walking out into the hallway to a different room. I let out another shaky breath, feeling overwhelmed once I was finally alone. But before I could close the door, I hear her. I peak out to see both her and Harry standing at the entrance of the building, huddled close together. "Sorry I forget it gets this cold in LA sometimes." She says, looking up at him while he rubs the sleeves of his sweater that was wrapped perfectly around her. It was a simple orange stripped sweater. A vintage that Harry bought in Vienna and became one of his favorites. It was just a simple polyester sweater, but it became my favorite too. So it was hard to give it back after wearing it that night we kissed, but fuck was it harder to see her wearing it. Now as I sit alone with no sense of motivation to do anything else but wallow in my own pity I thought about a lot of things. I should be angry, be fuming and cursing at Harry for how he's been acting. I should confront him, make him feel as hurt as he made me for choosing her. Or maybe I should hate Heather, despise her for taking the chance I had with him. But deep down I know I couldn't hate Heather. She's such an angel, it wasn't her fault he's still hung up on her. And as much as the image of his arm wrapped around her kills me, I couldn't hate him either for the same reason. She looked prettier in his sweater than I did. "You okay in here bubs?" As if the tears welling up in my eyes and heavy weight on my chest wasn't enough, the sound of knuckles against the door and his voice calling out my name made me almost sob. "Yeah, I'm good. Door's open." I quickly try to compose myself when he enters the room, giving me that warming smile of his. "Just wanted to check up on ya, been quiet since you got here." Harry looks at me with concerning eyes as he places a hand on my shoulder before crossing his arms and leaning against the wall in front of me. Keep your hand on my shoulder, the second it was there all the nerves went away. I wanted to say but instead I fake a smile again, waving it off and shrugging. "Oh no, just have a lot on my plate don't worry." He nods, feeling his eyes on me while I try to avoid his by opening my laptop and skimming through my inbox. "Sarah told me about different singers reaching out to you." He points at my laptop before taking a seat on the chair to the side. I nodded, humming while I typed out quick responses. "Yup, thanks by the way but now I gotta sort out a whole schedule for this year." I took a glance up to see him focused on my song journal on the table in front of us.

“So...you and Heather huh?” The sheepish smile he has tugs my heart strings but I tried to keep from fumbling with my fingers.

“Yeah uhh...” He scratches the back of his neck, keeping his eyes on his hands and looking like a young kid with a crush. “Started talking again and catching up, been working out stuff between us since the party.”

I tilt my head to the side, motioning him to continue. “She’s gorgeous...”

“She’s amazing.”

I finally looked away from him and onto my screen, letting out a little chuckle. 

“So you guys are back together?”

“No no, we’re just sort of figuring things out at the moment.” Though it was an answer I was hoping for, the look in his face was none the less comforting. 

“Well, hope everything goes great. You guys look perfect together.” I managed to say, going back to typing while he only responds with a nod and hum.

There was silence. Does he not feel it too? Uncomfortable silence was never a thing between us but it was prevalent here. "Not gonna leave early are you though?" He says out of no where and I stopped typing for a sec to give my attention to him. "Not going to ditch me for someone else of course." He says it with a laugh, playing it off like an obvious joke... but the way he looked at me. Part of me wanted to scream at how oblivious and selfish that statement sounded coming from him, as if he has no idea the drastic shift our relationship has taken. But I see the vulnerability in his eyes, sensing the subtext in his question that is practically asking me to stay. Stick by his side and help finish this passion project he's dedicated to put out, not only for his fans but for himself. Be with him to figure out what to do next, even if I would be in a different county or continent and working with someone else. Keep in touch throughout because I've become an important person in his life. Even if that person who used to fill that spot came back, he's still here and asking me to stay with him in a similar sense. It wasn't the kind of love I wanted, but never the less, it was still love from Harry. Did the smile I wear at that moment reach my eyes? When I placed my hand on top of his in reassurance, was the hesitance obvious? Maybe he did notice the little signs, but he took my hand in his anyways and placed it against his heart. 

"Of course, 'm always gonna here Harry."

____________________________________________________________

part 3

A/N: guys my heart hurts writing this lol. There’s gonna be one or two more parts of this series, but thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated :)

[thebeautyoffanfics]

Hey! I always loved your writing and you actually inspired me to write some myself so I want to request if it’s alright…

Can I have Hanako x f!reader who doesn’t believe in love (this having to due with her parents never getting along). She says that it’s just a little word people say to make them feel better about themselves and it’s a waste of time.

But she can’t help but fall in love with Hanako and gets on flustered when he’s around but tries to tell herself it’s not love. Oneshot please!

Thank you and feel free to ignore if you want!

hanako x f!reader

a/n: hello hello!! thank you so much for the compliment- that’s really sweet, and it genuinely means the world to me;; but, sure thing! (ahh, the fact that i wrote a rengoku fic about the reader feeling that way not long ago- this is a topic I’m familiar with, so I hope that it makes it turn out even better? haha) thank you so much for requesting, and I hope this turns out alright!!! <333 also, if you ever want to share your writings, do feel free to tag me/let me know somehow! I’m sure they’re amazing, and I’d love to read them, should you be comfortable with it!! :DD

bro i guess this request resonated with me bc i genuinely like,,, went off. So it’s,,, pretty long- i hope that’s alright haanofnaoinf-

warnings: implied parental issues?

word count: 2,363

Love was ridiculous. It was a stupid idea. An overused word, thrown onto any situation in which you felt something other than anger, fear, sadness, or disgust. If something made you even a little happy, you’d claim to love it. If someone showed you basic human decency, you’d claim to love them.

You hated it. It made you feel sick.

It’s not like you could control what everyone else did, you supposed. So, you’d continue on normally. If you didn’t fall in love, then there was no worry about falling out of it- that’s what you figured. That’s what you told yourself. Love wasn’t real in the first place- how could such an overused word hold any true meaning? It was like a 1st grade pinky promise. It was easily broken, as if it held any truth to it when the kids exchanged a deal. No matter how much either part of it trusted the promise, it made it no more real or true.

Yep… love was best put as a 1st grade pinky promise.

Maybe not-

Still, such a strong opinion on love, an unmoving opinion, with your own “proof” to back it up… made it hard when you thought that it may be put to question. You walked near the bathroom, the girls’ bathroom, and heard a girl from your class shout something. You couldn’t tell what, but you did notice her slightly annoyed expression as she left the bathroom.

Ah, the girl who seemed to be constantly head-over-heels for boys- particularly Minamoto-senpai, you had noted. It wasn’t like he’d return the feelings, you figured. It’s not like her “love” was anything more than an obsession.

Still, you figured there must have been some other girl in the bathroom. Yashiro probably had friends- she talked to Aoi a lot. Maybe the school’s princess was teasing her friend. You pushed open the door, noticing that all the stalls were empty. The only other entity in the bathroom was… a floating, slightly-transparent boy. He was laughing, and you went ahead and assumed it was at Yashiro’s annoyance.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Honestly, you just needed to pee, but it shouldn’t have surprised you. Little mokke running around the school constantly, weird things happening, a boy in the girls’ bathroom wasn’t life-changing. Or so you figured.

You grumbled, making some comment you weren’t even sure you got, as you stepped into a stall. Not acknowledging him would surely be best. You were fairly new to the school, and it wasn’t like you were insanely fond of public restrooms anyway. You’d never have to see him again. Plus, if he was anything like the other supernaturals, you were sure he’d be a handful. That was your thought process, as you washed your hands, glimpsing up at the mirror hung above the sink- you caught another glimpse at him.

An old uniform. Brown, almost shaggy, hair. His eyes were amber, and rather large- the way he held his hands, you silently compared him to a puppy. Innocent face, playful eyes- almost too alive for a ghost. He turned his head, nearly making eye contact, but you continued to study his appearance. A white… bandage? Sticker? Something- stuck to his face, the kanji for “seal” written in red.

Weird.

“My, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” He spoke, bringing a hand to his mouth, as a mischievous smirk came to his face.

A pain in the neck.

Your eyebrows furrowed, as you looked back down, turning off the sink and drying your hands.

“Oh? Gonna pretend you didn’t see me? How cruel,”

Still, you ignored him. He couldn’t be serious. How was he so sure you didn’t simply think you caught something out of the corner of your eye? Was he messing with you, or trying to lighten the mood?

“I don’t think I want to associate with a pervy ghost,” You said, shutting the door behind you. As if right on time, the bell rang, signaling that lunch was over. With that, you made your way to class, hoping to not have to deal with any more paranormal things.

…

Unfortunately, things don’t always go as planned. As the rest of the day took it’s sweet time to pass, you sat, spacing out as you thought about that boy. He was one of the first humanoid supernaturals you had seen at the school- honestly, you half-hoped that all of them were cute little bunnies. Not… strangely eye-catching boys… how weird.

You sighed, clicking your pen, letting the quiet sound drown the teacher’s ramblings out a bit. Ca-click, click-click, ca-click, click-click.

“Y’know, people find that little sound annoying sometimes. It never bothered me, but teachers seem to be so sensitive about it.”

Jumping, you turned your head a bit, only to be practically nose-to-nose with the boy from the bathroom. Your heartbeat increased from the surprise, but you placed your hand on your chin, pretending to not have seen anything. Not only did you not want to give him much of your time or energy, but you definitely didn’t want to attract negative attention from the normal kids around you. Your eyes scanned the room, and you noticed Yashiro looking in your direction, most likely at the boy. Yes, she definitely saw him too.

“Waaah, Yashirooooo, the new girl’s totally ignoring me!” He sighed, floating over to her. She looked away as well, focusing intensely on whatever the teacher had to say. You weren’t even sure by this point, watching the two out of the corner of your eye. You stopped clicking your pen, watching as he stood behind Yashiro, leaning against her as he peered at her notes.

He glanced at you again, and you looked away. The boy, who you were now curious as to what his name could be, floated back over to your desk, glancing at your notes.

“You really aren’t paying attention, huh! Yashiro’s not much better- her page is mainly doodles. How on earth do you plan to pass like this, haha?”

You glared at him slightly, before lifting your pen, and clicking it open. Annoyed, you flipped to another page, and scribbled something down. He leaned forward a bit, looking at whatever it is you wrote.

“Leave me alone, toilet boy.”

He laughed, patting your back. “Toilet boy? What’s with all the insults, I barely know youuuuuu- plus, I have a name. I’m Hanako. School Mystery Number 7, Hanako-san of the toilet! Not ‘toilet boy’, nor a pervy ghost.”

You raised your eyebrows, writing once more.

“Wonderful. Now leave me alone, ‘Hanako-san of the toilet’.”

Days passed, and he certainly didn’t leave you alone. In fact, you grew to find yourself spending more time than you expected to with him. You assisted with supernaturals from time to time, even meeting his two other friends properly- Kou Minamoto and Yashiro Nene. You all slowly, but surely, became friends.

“I’m done wiping the mirrors,” You said, tossing the dirty rag into the bucket.

“I’m done mopping!” Yashiro exclaimed, sighing as she leaned against the mop.

“I’ve finished dusting too,” Kou added.

Hanako nodded, clapping cheerfully. “Great job, everyone! Can’t wait to see the same enthusiasm tomorrow!!”

The three of you collectively groaned, rolling your eyes. “Yes, yes, just like that,” Hanako laughed, moving his legs to sit in the air in a criss-cross fashion. Light conversation picked up, Kou talking to Yashiro, and Hanako throwing in a comment every so often. You stood, leaning against the sink, watching your friends look so happy. Hanako glanced at you, closing his eyes as he grinned.

Your heart rate picked up, and you felt your face grow warm. Your eyebrows furrowed just slightly, as you glanced away. It wasn’t the first time a little action like that made your heart go haywire. Not just your heart- your stomach, your legs, your arms. The moment Hanako grinned at you, hugged you, or emptily flirted, you felt as though you lost the ability to function. It couldn’t be love… no, you didn’t want to fall in love.

“Right, but it's getting late, guys. I should really head home,” Yashiro spoke, putting the mop up as she did so. Kou nodded, glancing over at the clock. “I’ve got to get home and work on dinner,” He said, putting the duster away, and grabbing his things.

Hanako glanced at you.

“I don’t really have any plans. I finished homework in class, so I think I’ll linger around for a bit more.”

“Alright! Be safe when you head home, (Y/N)! I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Yashiro spoke, waving as she left the room. “Bye guys! Be safe!” Kou added, leaving not long after she did. Silence filled the room for a moment, the only thing breaking it being the sound of your shoes as you made your way to the window seal. Taking a seat, you looked at Hanako expectantly.

“Well? Any more stories of the things I missed out on?”

...

“The Confession Tree?” You questioned, the other two humans long gone by now, leaving Hanako to recount to you previous adventures they had gone on.

“Yep! Yashiro and I took care of that one- it was honestly easier than most of them were. He’s still around, just nothing bigger than one of those pre-cut broccolis. The rumor was, you’d confess under him, and he’d make the feelings mutual~, buuut, it obviously got way out of control.”

“That’s so stupid.”

Hanako raised his eyebrows, not expecting such a distasteful tone of voice. “What is?”

“A supernatural forcing some kids to ‘fall in love’,” You made air quotes, before continuing, “it’s pretty gross. Love’s nothing more than some overused word. It’s tagged onto everything, and it’s basically used to make you feel better. It’s all a waste.”

For once, he was silent. Several questions began to circulate in his mind, but a part of him was… somewhat hurt.

“But what if I love you?” He questioned, tilting his head. His face felt warm, but he tried to steady his heartbeat. It wasn’t a direct confession. No, just a question. A ‘what if.’

You blinked, your face feeling warm. You understood- of course, it was nothing more than a ‘what if.’ “It wouldn’t be love. You’d be interested in me, only for the interest to go away eventually- even if it took a week. Even if it took years. Just… trust me, Hanako. I’m not the smartest person in the world, but- once you see it happen to the two people who are supposed to be there for you forever, you get the memo. It isn’t love. Never was, never will be.”

Those words you spoke… you didn’t like the fact that you questioned their sincerity. Especially when you were blushing, the boy who made you question those words looking at you with his big, rather beautiful eyes. “Or… that’s… what I think,” You added, the heat rising to your face only making you feel worse, as he blinked. His undivided attention on you- on what you said- made your heart beat much faster than you wished it would.

And suddenly, he was closer. Too close. Way too close. His eyes began to shut, as his face drew closer to yours. Your heart began to beat quicker than it had before- your face grew hotter than it already was- your eyes widened, as you silently questioned what on earth he was going.

One of his hands grabbed your wrist, and you looked over at your arm he was holding, then back up at him. His face was still close, so close you were sure you’d smell him if he still had a scent. So close he could probably feel the heat radiating off of your face, if he could still distinguish hot from cold.

“Then why is your heart beating so fast?” He finally questioned, thumb pressed against your radial artery, as if the warmth of your face wasn’t enough of a sign.

“Because- you’re… way too close.”

“But you aren’t pushing me away? I’ll scoot back if you want. I’m not a mind reader though, so just use your words.”

Your mouth felt dry. Why weren’t you saying anything? You could speak. Open your mouth and tell him to move. Take your free hand and shove him.

But… a part of you didn’t want him to move.

Hanako smiled once more, his eyebrows drawn together slightly, as if he were saddened by something. “I’m sorry that you were dealt a hand like that in life. It’s easy to look around and find all the negatives in life. But,” He leaned forward a bit more, nose nearly touching yours, “you aren’t your parents. You don’t need to follow in their footsteps. Don’t let their problems influence you so heavily to where you miss out on potentially great things. It’s okay to be sad about it. It’s okay to be scared. But it’s still your life, not theirs. If everyone’s overuse of it bothers you, then only say it when you mean it. Still, if you feel love, embrace it.”

Your eyes felt slightly prickly, as they watered up a bit. His sincerity… your racing heart. Maybe, just maybe… you were in love.

“I… think I love you, Hanako,” You muttered. You were scared. You were scared that he’d tell you he was joking- or that maybe this wasn’t love. Scared of so many things, stemming from one little word. Yet, you tried to embrace it.

“I love you, (Y/N). And nothing will change that,” He said, his smile widening. Quickly, he closed his eyes, closing the distance between the two of you. His lips were… cold. His touch was the only thing that reminded you that he wasn’t alive. Still, the warmth of his words made up for it, as you closed your eyes into the kiss.

His encouragement wouldn’t drown out the fear completely. He couldn’t take the memories away. But he tried… he told you that he loved you, so… you’d believe him. After all, you hadn’t heard him overusing the word. It only made that moment feel that much more genuine.

[poliel]

Surprise Egg: 8/13: Eggabell

Unsurprisingly striding back into town with Eggabell caused a commotion. Not even five minutes passed between her walking into town and everyone gathering to speak to her. There were many questions about Lizbert and what had happened to her all of which Eggabell deftly avoided and then quickly stopped via stating her reason for returning being to examine the egg more properly.

Apparently, it was Gramble’s turn to pouch it. He happily rushed over to give it to her. Buddy turned to leave. Since they were still stuck here they might as well go hunting for everyone and search more for the Snaxsquatch too while they were out. Before they could even pick which direction to head out in though…

“Hey Buddy,” Filbo said as he came up next to them, linking an arm through theirs. “It’s been a little while since we spent an evening together, you want to hang out?”

“You just want me to stick around so Eggebell can examine me before going back to Frosted Peak, right?”

“Huh? No. She only said she’d do that if you let her. I just want to hang out because it’s been a little while and I’ve missed you.” His faux innocence was cute and honestly would’ve been convincing if they didn’t know better due to the fact they’d just spent almost the whole day together climbing the mountain then coming back down. Not to mention this was the same tactic he often tried to pull when he wanted them to take another break once outright asking had started to fail. And like every other time he would either drop it with a sad sigh if Buddy persisted or would push the issue until one of them gave up.

Buddy sighed. “Fine.” The attempt at opening the stone doors failing meant that they had stuff they needed to catch up on in their journal anyway. … And they were tired. No amount of rest really made them less tired so there was no point in it a lot of the time but if it made Filbo happy then they’d put up with it. And they liked spending time with him too so why not?

~

“The egg’s underdeveloped,” Eggabell said as she poked her head into the hut after not evening bothering to knock before opening the door. “I don’t have the tools to determine anything more than that but I don’t think it’s fatally so, no thanks to a certain someone trying to give themself hypothermia and frostbite while carrying it.” She gave Buddy a pointed glare which was undeservedbecause they hadn’t known and hadn’t been trying to give themself anything of the sort. “The grumpling’s going to hatch small and probably weak too but with proper care I think they should be all right. But you guys aren’t in charge of it so that’s really all you probably want to know, right?”

“Yeah, thanks for telling us. Now uh….” Filbo trailed off.

“You want me to do Buddy?” She looked at them again. She’d already made it clear on multiple occasions that she was concerned about them but, like with her previous attempts to get them to do or not do something, if they refused she’d probably go back to looking for Lizbert without much of a fight. But…

“Fine.” With a sigh, Buddy flipped their doodling journal closed and extricated themself from the bed and cuddling into Filbo’s side. “But make it quick.”

“I intend to.”

~

Doctor visits and examinations were always the worst with the ice-cold stethoscope and all the prodding and the poking. Not to mention the invasive questions and ‘how would you rate your pain/discomfort?’s. There were two bright sides here though; she didn’t poke them with any needles and she had a salve to put over their various burns, making those spots at least feel better almost instantly – if they’d known such a thing was in her medical bag, they’d have stolen it long ago as they’d be doing from here on out.

“You’re malnourished and not recovered from giving birth in such a state,” she declared after what felt like forever.

They hopped off her makeshift examine table set up in the front part of her and Lizbert’s hut. “Shocking. I never would’ve guessed.”

She frowned at them. “I don’t know what your hang up is about not eating bugsnax but I suggest you let it go for the sake of your health.”

They’d have gladly given up their initial hang ups with it if they could. “I can’t. I’m allergic.”

“Oh! Uh… that’s really bad. How allergic are you exactly? If it’s just a mild rash or something it might be worth it to just suffer through it at this point.”

True and if that was the case they’d have done so long before now but… “I ate one and then spent the next few hours in outhouse.”

“Oh hmmm… definitely don’t then because in your state you could easily die from that.”

Buddy had not even considered that. All the more reason not to partake because that was not how they were going to die if they could help it.

Eggabell sighed before continuing. “You should probably go home then. Bring Gramble and Shelda with you too if you can. I know Gramble’s not going to want to go and probably neither is Shelda but…”

“No. I’m not leaving until I’ve interviewed Lizbert or we find solid proof she’s dead.” That made Eggabell flinch but Buddy didn’t care enough to apologize. “So not until we open the stone doors.” They’d find Lizbert, her remains, or no sign of her which would likely mean her body was buried in snow somewhere on the mountain.

With that said, Buddy turned to go. If they got out fast enough, they might even be able to leave town without Filbo noticing and trying to guilt trip them into resting for the rest of the day. Before they could do much more than open the door though…

“You know, you’re a lot like Liz.”

Pausing with their paw still on the doorknob, Buddy looked back her. “What do you mean?”

“Stubborn and passionate with a high tolerance for pain and discomfort but most of all stupid. You don’t ever pause to think about how being reckless and hurting yourself affects the people who care about you. Except you’re even worse about it than Liz ever was. Your body’s going to quit on you if you keep this up for much longer. You could die.” She’d started speaking in a calm tone but ended making exasperated gesture towards them.

“Well then, all the more reason to get those doors open as soon as possible.” Because they weren’tleaving until their story was done, they could hold on for that long at least. Speaking of opening the doors though… “You should ask Triffany for help with the stone door puzzle. She’s good at that kind of stuff.” They’d suggested going to her for help to Eggabell once before and got a vehement ‘no’ but the situation was a bit different now so…

Eggabell glared at them, doubtless mad about the change of subject but ultimately sighed – no matter what, she still cared most about finding Lizbert and that was easy to exploit. “No, I… I can figure it out myself.”

“Now who’s being stubborn?”

“I uh… you’re right. I’ll ask her. But you…” she walked up to them to poke them lightly in the chest, “need to go rest, okay? Until the stone doors are open you need to be sitting around doing as little physical actively as possible, got it?”

“Got it.”

She held her stern gaze on them for a couple seconds longer before they turned away and led the way back outside.

Buddy stood and watched as she headed for the research tent where Triffany could be seen working on something. As soon as Eggabell reached it without looking back at them, they glanced over at the freshly lit campfire. Filbo was there but he didn’t seem to have noticed Buddy coming out with Eggabell. He was distracted talking to Wambus and Chandlo. It was the perfect opportunity to slip away.

So, after sneaking over to Filbo’s hut to retrieve their pack they were headed off for the Scorched Gorge and Sizzling Sands. If they were lucky maybe they would actually find the Snaxsqautch this time and then return to learn that key to opening the doors had been found. Meaning they would be able to finish their story and finally go home and eat real food again. They could only dream.

***

Buddy slipping off unnoticed and without saying goodbye while Filbo had been distracted from waiting for them was not the least bit surprising at this point and he should’ve been on the lookout for such an attempt. But that didn’t make it any less disappointing or worrying especially after interrupting Eggabell and Triffany to ask for Eggabell’s general assessment of their condition. They should be resting and taking it easy as much as possible but instead they were off doing who knows what?

And there wasn’t a single thing Filbo could do about it. He didn’t even know where they’d gone, making going after them hard even if he’d stood much of a chance of convincing them to come back and rest – once they were out of town there was no getting them to come back until they wanted to. So he just put on a positive attitude and went on his rounds around town, a lot later than usual because he’d spent the bulk of the day climbing up and then back down Frosted Peak but whatever. He checked up on Floofty to make sure they were okay after the whole almost cutting their head off for science thing a few weeks ago. And Wambus and his garden. Gramble’s ranch and everyone else with their various things they were doing or working on. He inquired after the egg too of course. He still felt a bit weird about how it was biologically his but the relief of not having to be in charge of it and the little life within far outweighed that feeling. Besides it seemed to make those in charge of it happy and that was good to see.

The town really was starting to knit itself back together. And even if Eggabell wasn’t going to stay for much longer she was still back for now and interacting with Triffany and some of the others again. Now all they needed was Lizbert here and everything would be back to how it was before. Or actually, better because everyone was starting to get along more than even before they’d split. Some of that was centered around those caring for the egg but it was also just in general amongst everyone. It was very good to see, filling Filbo with that fuzzy warm feeling of wanting to get everyone into a group hug or something. He wasn’t going to push it though.

It was all mostly thanks to Buddy, getting everyone back and then helping with everyone’s problems. … The only downside was that they were running themself half to death while doing so and factoring into that was them having carried the egg unknowingly for months. They were really amazing and wonderful… he was worried about them. Nothing he could do about that right now though so…

Shaking that off for now he looked up at the others gathered around the campfire which was almost everyone in town except for Eggabell and Triffany. Even Floofty and Snorpy were here even if they weren’t likely to stay long, they never did. “We should have another party,” he said, drawing everyone’s gazes to him.

“Another one, really?” Beffica said though she didn’t sound quite as scornful as she used to when questioning his ideas. Progress was being made there too!

“Yeah. Almost everyone’s back now. So I was thinking we should celebrate. It’ll be fun.” And a party would be a good way to get Buddy to rest in town a little more. It could also act as an informal farewell to them since they should and would hopefully finish their story soon, allowing them to go home. Whether Filbo was going to accept their invite and go with them, he hadn’t decided yet but he had until they were actually leaving to make that decision. “So what do you guys say?”

There was a general murmur of agreement to indifference about the idea. No one was enthusiastic about it but that was fine, once the party actually started, they would all hopefully be more into it.

“If we’re going to do this party thing,” Snorpy spoke up over everyone else. “I need some time to make some uh, special party lights for uh, partying purposes.”

“This request has to do one of your ridiculous conspiracy theories, doesn’t it?” Floofty said, giving him that look that almost always led to an argument between them.

Before he could respond and make that argument a reality, Filbo spoke up cheerfully as if he hadn’t picked up on any of that tension. “We could use some cool party lights!” If doing whatever he was going to do the lights would make him feel better about attending the party than Filbo didn’t care. “So it’d be awesome if you could make some special ones for us. How long do you think that’ll take?”

Floofty rolled their eyes but didn’t say anything. Snorpy looked nervously their way for a couple seconds before looking back at Filbo – argument successfully averted, thank goodness! “A few days should do, no more than a week for sure.”

“Awesome! Let me know when you’re done and I’ll start setting everything up.” And maybe he could get Buddy to help with that too. While it wasn’t proper rest it would still be far more restful than running around after bugsnax and the Snaxsqautch had to be so it’d be worth to ask them.

[damnzawa]

henlo i'm not sure what your rules are for requests so i'm sorry if i'm doing this wrong i just love your writing uwu 👉🏼👈🏼 aizawa with an hero!s/o turned into a neko because they got hit by a quirk after fighting some villain? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

(CAT)ASTROPHE — A. SHOUTA

Note(s): OMG ?? I ?? AM ?? SO ?? FLATTERED ?? THAT ?? YOU ?? LIKE ?? MY ?? SHITTY ?? ASS ?? AND ?? CLICHE ?? WRITING ?? also i live for these types of scenarios SO EFF YES

Warning(s): Poorly written fight scene, Aizawa having a mental breakdown, Cat Fluff

...

Being a pro-hero comes with a lot of pros and cons. For some, the pros may outweigh the cons and vice versa. Some even has a healthy balance of both. While you, you were one of the people who have pros outweigh the cons.

You weren't really the pro-hero to compete for the spotlight but you still had a good number of people who knows of you and what you could do. Though, you aren't as flashy as the others, you had a unique charm to you that draws people's attention towards you.

It was that charm that drew the infamous hobo man of U.A. to you, all in his yellow, shining (not really) sleeping bag glory. Though at first, he was irritated at the fact that you were just a natural at everything and everybody just seemed to love you. But as time went by, he realized that this charm of yours has truly captivated him. You weren't like the other pro-heroes he had met. No. You were unique. One of a kind. Genuinely different from the others.

After months of (silent) pining, he decided to just fuck it and ask you out on a date, in which surprisingly you happily agreed to. As time progressed, and two dates became 3, 4, 5, and counting, he got to know more sides of you. More characteristics to add to your charm. And by the time you reached your 2nd year anniversary, you guys decided to move in together—which was by far the greateat decision you and Aizawa has ever made.

Your charms are a part of your pros. It's what makes you, you. But unfortunately, you had yet to learn that it was one of your cons too.

It was the usual night patrol. Check any suspicious activity, check if anyone's doing crimes, check up on the stray cat on the alley, repeat. Honestly, some times patrols can be quite a bore. But you didn't mind. It was part of the job after all.

Cautiously walking down the street, you suddenly heard a scream from one of the alleys nearby. You quickly sprinted into action, not sparing another second as you rushed into the scene of the crime.

"Please! Don't hurt my child!" The woman screamed as the villain inched closer to them. Silently creeping up on the thug, you noticed that the villain had a weapon—a gun to be exact which was gonna be a pain if they ever shot the woman and/or his child. "Please! It's all I have! I promise!" A robbery? In the night? Typical villain move.

"Step away from them." You commanded the villain as you activated your quirk. A force field acting as a shield appeared out of nowhere, protecting the woman and her child from harm. You could tell that the woman was relieved, however, the child was still crying.

The villain chuckled as he turned around to face you, your hero name rolling off his tongue in a sinister way. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the saviors of society! The heroes! Protecting the world from evil doers such as myself." You could feel a speech coming. You honestly could feel it. "At least that's what you think. You heroes think you're good shit after taking down some bad guys but do you ever wonder about those who also suffer because of you?" He pointed the gun towards you making you squint at him. "I lost my family! Because of you guys! Because of that stupid Endeavor! You don't really care about the people! You just care about the fame! The money! The recognition you'll get after locking us all up in jail!"

"I assure you, heroes are not like that. Sure we have our own ambitions, but we all protect the people. That's our number one priority." Your response made him snarl. "And as much as I would love to stay and chat..." You activates your quirk once again, this time making whips out of light. "...It's time to pay for your crimes." You attacked him with the whip to which he skillfully dodged. He appeared from place to place with a blink of an eye, making it hard for you to apprehend him.

'Shit. A teleportation quirk? That's gonna be a pain in the ass.'

Dodging his punches that came out of nowhere, you kicked him in the gut. After reading watching his moves while dodging, you figured out that he has this pattern. He would first attack you in the back—which caught you by surprise the first time—then he would go for your front then your sides. It was the repeating pattern he used on you, so after getting used to it, you finally had the upper hand.

He was thrown a bit from the force of your kick but quickly recovered from it. He attacked you with another punch on your left which you countered by grabbing on his arm and twisting it until you heard a crack.

'Well now he certainly can't punch with that one.'

"You bitch!" He pulled out his gun and repeatedly fired shots at you. Every shot was a miss and then finally you encaged him in a box of light.

"Sweet dreams." And with that, you knocked him out with your quirk.

After putting on quirk nullyfing cuffs and a rope made out of light around his body, you checked up on the victims. The woman was repeatedly thanking you while the child was still shaken up.

"Hey now kiddo. It's alright. You're safe now." You approached him with a gentle smile on your face. You were about to place comforting hand on his shoulder when he suddenly shot up.

"No! Get away from me and my mom!" A sudden force emitted from his body as he pushed you to the ground.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry about that!" You stood up and brushed yourself off as the woman repeatedly apologized for her son's behavior.

"No ma'am. It's alright. I'm fine, no harm done. See?" You flashed her a smile. "Kiddo, it's alright now. I'm a pro-hero. Police are on the way. Can you stay for a bit and tell them what happened?" The boy reluctantly nodded which made you smile even wider. "That's great then! You were brave out there kiddo."

"I'm sorry for using my quirk on you..." The boy muttered. You ruffled his hair and told him that it was alright. Though, you would surely see a paramedic later.

After the police arrived and collected your statements, you headed home with a headache. Apparently, the woman and her child doesn't know what his quirk actually is. The robbery might have triggered his quirk and you were the first one to be hit with it.

Great.

Just great.

You just hoped Aizawa was home too. You clearly need some of his A+ cuddles to ease the pain.

You arrived at your shared apartment shortly, but before you could even reach your shared bedroom, you blacked out.

...

Aizawa Shouta wasn't having the greatest day of his life. An eventful and rowdy day at U.A, then an eventful and extra rowdy patrol at night all while running with 3 hours of sleep? Yep. Not the greatest day of his life.

The grumpy man groaned as he remembered the stack of papers waiting for him back home. He could already feel the pain he was about to endure for the greater good of the future heroes he was teaching. He frowned as he imagined Kaminari's sloppy handwriting—and a possible doodle of him—in his homework, he could also imagine the cluster of words that didn't make sense brought to him by Mina Ashido.

But he could also imagine you greeting him with a kiss as usual. He could imagine your arms wrapped around him in a loving embrace, washing out the stress he previously had. He could imagine you rolling your eyes at him as he complained about you not getting enough sleep. He could imagine you helping him grade those forsaken essays he made his students do.

Well, maybe this day wasn't so bad for him. After all, he had you to go home to.

After opening the door, he expected you to greet him with open arms and ask him how his day went. He expected you to make fun of his struggles as a teacher and remind him that it was his choice to teach to begin with. But instead he was met with silence and no you.

To: Y/n

From: Shouta

Are you patrolling late tonight?

He waited for a few minutes but he didn't recieve a reply. He sent another message, and another, and another, until he finally decided to wash up and wait up for you just incase anything happens.

Just as he was about to enter your shared bedroom, he noticed your hero costume on the floor, a lump of something breathing underneath it. He lifted your hero costume, revealing a (h/c) cat—who stirred at his actions—sleeping peacefully. His hand instinctively reached down to pet it, feeling the smooth fur on his fingertips. The petting caused the animal to wake up, it's tired eyes looking at him with such warmness it was almost so familiar yet he couldn't remember where it's from.

"Shouta?" Aizawa froze on the spot as he heard your voice leaving the cat's mouth. He blinked owlishly, trying to process what the hell happened. Did the cat just speak? And did the cat sounded just like you?

"Why the hell are you so big? Did something happen?" You—the cute cat infront of him—asked as you unconsciously started to rub your cat chin into his shoulder.

"Y/n, I should be the one asking you that." You perked up at his response, head tilting as you waited for an answer.

"What do you mean?" Oh god you were giving him the cute eyes.

"Y/n, you're a cat."

"I'm a cat." You repeated. "Wait—what?" You blinked as you realized what had happened. Oh. So this was that child's quirk. "Shit."

"Shit indeed." Aizawa picked you up gently and placed you on the bed. "Mind telling me what happened?"

"Ok so..."

...

Aizawa secretly carried a laser on him the next day. You were dismissed of your hero duties for a week (because that's how long the quirk's gonna last) and was stuck in the apartment all day so he figured you could use a little fun right?

Right...

You greeted him as usual, but instead of human you, cat you is rubbing your body around his ankles and making a '8' shape as you circled his feet. It was quite cute to be honest. He had a soft spot for cats and you after all. He tried his best not to melt then and there.

"I've got something for you." Your ears went forward and your tail erected with it's fur flat at the statement. Clearly, you were happy. Aizawa brought out the laser thingy he had and started pointing it towards the wall, to which you suddenly leaped for. You followed the dot everywhere it landed and Aizawa couldn't help but smile at the sight infront of him.

...

"Shouta." You poked his cheek. "Shouta." You poked it once again. Why were you poking him exactly? Well, you were hungry and it was in the middle of the night. You couldn't reach the pantry nor the fridge handle so you reluctantly asked Aizawa for help. Somehow, he wouldn't budge. After poking him a couple more times, he opened an eye that showed that he was clearly annoyed by your behavior.

"What?" Came his gruff reply.

"I'm hungry." Aizawa sighed as he stood up and blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

"Fine." Sluggishly walking towards the kitchen, he looked at you silently trailing behind him. "You want tuna?"

"Haha, very funny Shou."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Yes please."

...

You purred as Aizawa rubbed the spot behind your ears. It was becoming a habit for Aizawa to pet and rub you like this and honestly, he was enjoying it—not that he'd ever tell anyone about it.

You insisted to not cancel your annual dinner date at your shared apartment which consisted of eating takeouts and watching whatever was on Netflix. You and Aizawa happily ate your food—you ate tuna... again—and now, the both of you were watching some Studio Ghibli film, well atleast you were supposed to.

You quickly got distracted once Aizawa started petting you, leading to you not focusing on the film at all. Aizawa's eyes was still on the film playing but you were sure he was also distracted. You found it a bit weird that the both of you quickly adjusted to this cat life and that neither of you freaked out at all. Maybe it was the pro-hero sides of you, who knows. But it was nice to see Aizawa helping you in any way that he can.

His petting abruptly stopped as he stiffled out a yawn. You looked at him and saw that he looked completely exhausted. More so than usual.

So, you hopped out of his lap and switched off the TV as you nudged Aizawa's leg with your paws.

"Come on Shou. Let's go to sleep."

Aizawa did not decline your offer and gladly followed you out of the room.

...

By the end of the week while having breakfast a loud 'poof' and smoke suddenly covered the whole room. After the smoke cleared, it revealed you in all of your naked human body glory.

"Welcome back, Y/n."

"Oh shut up, Shou."

ADDITIONAL NOTE(S)

This was fun to write! I hope I did this right though lolol. Also, requests are open!!

[captainjanegay]

Where I’m Meant to Be | Stucky | Meet-Cute, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, No powers AU | Chapters 7/? | total 29k words | Ao3

Summary: Bucky is a single dad coming back from a work trip with a very bored, very whiney 7-year-old girl. A mysterious stranger with a kind heart and a notebook full of doodles comes to the rescue.

A/N: It's been... so long since I've updated this fic. I'm sorry but life got in the way and I couldn't bring myself to write anything. Here I come with apologies and hopes that you haven't forgotten about the adventures of Bucky, Alex and Steve. I'm gonna treat you with the longest chapter I've ever written (it's like 5.3k). I hope you'll like it, I got a bit carried away and my space-nerdiness is showing every now and then.

The chapters will probably come very irregularly from now on but I'll try my best not to have too long gaps between each update. I love you all and — as always — thank you so, so much for your continuous support. I cherish every single reader, every single like and every single comment you leave here :')

Chapter 7

(5.2k)

When Monday rolls around, Bucky faces New York’s chilly morning as he makes his way to work. It’s been only a few days since he got sick, but he feels significantly better now. His nose might still be stuffed and his throat might feel a bit scratchy, but he is mostly fine. No more coughing fits, no more fever. And it’s not like he could say no when his boss called him to check how he was doing and ask if he’d be able to come by before Christmas to do some required maintenance work.

But it’s fine, since the work at the Institute has slowed down, many people have already taken their days off for the Christmas break. It’s calmer than usual and Bucky can do whatever he’s supposed to do in peace.

It's a bit past noon and Bucky's mindlessly staring at the progress bar on his screen and enjoys his coffee. The peace and quiet — excluding his Christmas playlist playing in the background — is disturbed by the ringing of his phone. Slightly startled, Bucky looks around, searching for the device. After a quick glance at the screen, he answers the call.

"Hi, Buck!" Steve says, his voice soft and warm. "I hope I didn't wake you up or anything. Just wanted to check up on you, see how you're feeling."

"That's very sweet of you," Bucky says, his lips spreading in a smile. "And I'm fine, thank you. Currently waiting for the data backup to finish so you've disrupted my staring contest with the progress bar."

Steve doesn't appreciate the joke. Instead, he asks, "You're at work?" After receiving an affirmative hum, he lets out a slightly annoyed huff. "Why? You should still be in bed! Three days ago you've been barely able to get up for longer than 10 minutes. You should still rest, Buck."

"It's been six days ago, thank you very much," Bucky answers. "And I'm fine, Steve. I promise. I wouldn't come if I was still feeling sick, but the fever's been gone for a few days," two but Steve doesn't have to know that, "and I'm not coughing anymore. I'm as fit as a fiddle."

"I can hear you sniffle."

"It's the allergies," Bucky lies and that makes Steve laugh, although a bit exasperated.

"You're horrible," he says. "Bet you haven't even eaten breakfast or drink enough water or like... didn’t even wear a hat even though you’re sick."

"I did have a toast while I ran to catch the train. And now I'm having coffee for lunch. And it’s not even that cold."

An honest-to-God gasp escapes Steve's mouth after he hears that. Of course he's a Mr. Healthy Lifestyle, Bucky shouldn't even be surprised.

"How are you even functioning? You gotta take care of yourself, Buck."

Bucky's heart skips a bit. It's nice to have someone worry about him. Even if he's being dragged in the meantime. And it was nice when Steve took care of him and Alex back when Bucky was too sick to do this. Of course, he has people who do that. Clint, Tasha, Scott -- he can always count on them. But somehow it feels different with Steve. Steve hasn't been around for years like the others, he's known Bucky for just a few months and he still decided to offer his kindness and care. This thought made Bucky's heart do somersaults in his chest.

So did the fact that Steve had a nickname to Bucky's nickname. And he's been using it a lot. Bucky really likes it.

"I'm functioning very well, thank you. And so is Alex, because I'm not as hopeless in taking care of her, luckily," Bucky chuckles. Before Steve can't say anything, Bucky adds, "Besides, I've been able to survive 28 years like this so don't be overdramatic. No need to go all mother hen on me."

"Oh, you think this is overdramatic?" Steve asks, amused. "You clearly don't know what me being overdramatic is, pal. This is just some simple, friendly check-in."

"Okay, now I'm kinda curious," Bucky says. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much. "Hypothetically, what would one have to do to see what is Steve Rogers's definition of overdramatic?"

It makes Steve let out another laugh. "Careful what you wish for, Buck." It sounds like Steve wants to say something else but there's some noise in the background and his voice becomes distant and inaudible for a moment. When he comes back, he says with a sigh, "Sorry 'bout that. I need to go back to work. I'm glad you're feeling better but eat a proper meal or I'll hunt you down."

"Oh, so no mother hen anymore, were going straight to threats, okay." Bucky nods to himself and Steve huffs out a laugh. "Thanks for the call, Steve. It's very sweet of you. Have a nice day."

"You, too. Say hi to Alex from me."

"I will. Bye, Steve."

.

A small smile is still present on Bucky's face when a few hours later he's picking Alex up from school. It grows bigger when she runs towards him down the stairs, her haphazardly wrapped scarf fluttering behind her. He takes a moment to tuck it properly and then takes Alex's backpack from her.

“How was school today?” Bucky asks as they head home.

“Fine. We played soccer and I scored once!” Alex answers proudly. “Even Adrian didn’t and he’s very good. Maya didn’t want to play ‘cause she says girls shouldn’t play soccer.”

“Jokes on her, because we have a women’s national soccer team and they’re the best. They’re the world champions.”

A gasps escapes Alex’s mouth. “Really? That’s so cool! I want to be a soccer player when I grow up!”

“Not a ballerina, anymore?” Bucky asks, with a small smile.

“No, I’m gonna be a ballerina but I’m gonna play soccer sometimes, too. But that’s after I’ll fly to the moon!”

Bucky only nods and grins at her. He wouldn’t be surprised in the least if she actually pulled that off in the future. There weren’t many things that could stop her since she decided upon something.

“How’s space?” Alex asks, swinging their hands back and forth.

Bucky chuckles. It’s a bit of a tradition at this point. He doesn’t really remember how it started but now she never asks him “how’s work” but it’s always “how’s space?”. Personally, Bucky loves it. It makes him feel like he’s doing much cooler things that he really does.

“Pretty boring, sadly,” he admits. “Didn’t have much to do today and many people are on their breaks so no fun space facts to share today. I chatted on the phone with Steve and he wanted me to say hi to you.”

“Oh, is he coming over today?”

Slightly confused with the question, Bucky shakes his head. “No, he’s not. We just talked on the phone. Why?”

“I don’t know, I thought you liked Steve.”

“Well, I do. I like uncle Scott too but we don’t hang out with him every day, either. Steve has his own life and stuff to do, so we shouldn’t bother him all the time.”

Alex makes a small hum and Bucky’s not sure if it’s a dismissive or an agreeing one. After a moment, she adds, “I bet he wouldn’t mind though. He told me he really likes you.”

“What? When?” The revelation almost makes Bucky stop in the middle of the pavement. The biggest surprise is not that Steve likes him, Bucky has figured out this much after all those times they’ve hung out together. What really takes him aback is that apparently his daughter and Steve are having conversations about him when he’s not there.

“When you were sick and Steve went to ballet class with me. I told him he’s cool and I’m happy you have him so you’re not so lonely. And he said he thinks we’re really cool too and that he likes us a lot.”

This time Bucky slows down and eventually stops. There’s a furrow between his brows when he looks at Alex.

“Why would you think I’m lonely, munchkin? I’m not, I have you and mama, uncle Clint and Scott. And now Steve. I’m more than fine.”

“Well… Okay, maybe I didn’t mean lonely. But sometimes when you have a lot to do and you worry and mama or uncle Clint are busy you do this—” Alex furrows her brows and pouts, apparently imitating a worried Bucky “and you’re quiet and worried. And now you smile even more than you did. You smile all the time when you text Steve.”

For a moment, Bucky only gapes at her, not sure how to react. That’s a lot of information coming at once from his 7-year-old daughter.

“I’m— Well, I’m okay, even if I worry sometimes. And I couldn’t be lonely, having such a sweet little munchkin by my side,” he smiles, bopping her on the nose and getting a smile in return. “But thank you for caring about me, sweetheart. I love you to the moon and back.”

“And I love you to Jupiter!” she answers.

“But not back?” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“Nah, it’s already so far away, it’s enough.”

The conversation with Alex stays in Bucky’s head for the rest of the day. It’s gnawing at him enough that before he goes to bed, he takes out his phone and calls Natasha.

“How’s my favourite co-parent doing?” she greets.

“Do you have any more co-parents?” Bucky asks instead of answering.

“Nope. That’s what makes you my favourite.” Bucky only sighs so she continues. “Did something happen? You’re usually in the mood for late night conversation when something’s on your mind.”

There’s no point in denying it since Natasha would see right through him. “It’s nothing bad. Apparently Alex thinks I’m lonely.”

“Well, she’s not wrong.”

“What? Tasha, no. I’m not lonely, where did you two get that idea?”

“James, it’s not my fault that you’re an idiot. I know that you have people who love you around. You know that, too. But I know and you also should know — but here’s the ‘idiot’ part — that it might not be enough sometimes. And I’m pretty sure we’ve had a similar conversation like a month ago, so I don’t know why you act all surprised now.”

“Remind me, why did I even call you?”

“Because I am incredible and you value my opinion like no one else’s and also you love me deeply,” Natasha explains dutifully. 

Bucky huffs out a laugh as he sits heavily on the side of his bed. His eyes land on the comic from Steve, still laying on Bucky’s bedside table, propped against the lamp. “Sounds fake, but okay.”

“Did our daughter have any more revelations for you?” Natasha asks.

“Well…,” Bucky hesitates for a moment. “She and Steve gossip about me when I’m not around. And apparently I’ve been smiling more lately. But that’s about it.” 

Natasha hums but even through the phone Bucky can hear that she’s rather amused. 

"What?" Bucky asks.

"I didn't say anything!"

"I can hear you laughing, just say whatever mean thing you're going to say and let's get this over with."

"I'm not gonna say anything mean! I was just wondering when we'd mention Steve in this conversation," she chuckles. "But really. Even your daughter can see that a relationship would be good for you. And that you like Steve a lot. Why not kill two birds with one Steve?"

Bucky sighs. "Because one Steve is also enough to kill this friendship we have."

"Why do you always just automatically assume that things will get fucked? It doesn't have to be the case. I'm serious, you'd better take a grip on yourself and ask him out or I'm back in three days and I'll do this for you. And I'll be as obnoxious and embarrassing for you as I can."

That's actually a pretty horrible threat. She would do that. And it would be both mortifying and horrible to experience for all the involved parties — maybe except Natasha. Bucky laughs, trying to imagine it, but the laugh is short-lived.

"Come on, Nat," Bucky starts after a moment, getting serious. "Steve is great and it's great having him around. But what if I make a move and he's not interested? I don't want to freak him out. Or remember that message I accidentally saw on his computer? He might be seeing someone already or be interested in someone else," Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. "Plus, I know from experience that no matter how much he might seem to like me, a guy with a kid can turn out to be a bit much for people. I don't want to get hurt. I don't want Alex to get hurt. She adores Steve and I don't know if I can risk it."

"But I'm telling you, nobody's getting hurt anytime soon," Natasha chimes in. "You're overthinking, Yasha. Those are all valid concerns but you know what the counterargument is?" She takes a small break but she's not expecting Bucky to respond. "Steve's a good guy. He likes you. He likes Alex. He came to a primary school dance recital after knowing you for like a week just because you and Alex asked him to. Even if he doesn't want a relationship, it doesn’t mean that your friendship has to end. From all you've told me, he doesn't seem like the kind to trample on your hearts like this. Give yourself some time, but promise me you're gonna think about it, okay? And call me if you work yourself up into an anxious mess again, okay?”

“I will try not to be an anxious mess, but I’ll let you know. And I’ll think about it. Thanks, Tasha.” Bucky says.

“I love you no matter what, you dumbfuck. Bye.”

Bucky barely manages to say it back before she hangs up. He shakes his head with a small smile and retrieves his charger cable from behind the bedside table. As he plugs his phone, he accidentally knocks down the drawing from Steve. He picks it up, staring at the soft lines for who-knows-which time. His thumb gently traces the “Get well soon, Buck! x” scribbled at the bottom.

Looking at it, Bucky imagines the moment when Steve was writing it down. In his mind, he sees both Steve and Alexandra at the kitchen table, both leaning over their respective pieces of paper, focused on whatever they’re drawing. They are smiling, chatting about whatever common interest they’ve currently discovered. It’s a very nice picture. Enough to make Bucky’s heart ache.

Because Natasha is right. This is exactly what Bucky craves and what he’s been ignoring for years. That domesticity, that warm feeling one gets when looking at someone they care about. That happiness. He can almost imagine himself joining the picture he’s created in his head, walking over to that table and dropping a kiss first on Alex’s head and then on Steve’s, before he starts preparing the dinner. It feels right. 

Maybe it’s not usual to imagine this calm, family life with someone he’s not even in a relationship with. Most people probably think of tons of other things, things that are not so… settled. Not as serious. Sometimes they never reach this part. But Bucky has figured a while ago that it doesn’t really work for him. He already has a family. And this family means everything and more to him. If he ever was to date, he has to make sure that the person would fit into his and Alexandra’s life. He has to skip ahead to make sure it’s worth going through the dates and the passion and all the work a relationship requires, without it all ending in a heartbreak. But Steve… 

Steve fits so well into this picture, it scares Bucky a bit. Because this would be even harder to let go, if things didn't work out.

It's pretty clear, now that he allows himself to think about it, that he has some feelings for Steve. Besides the friendliness and sympathy, that is. They're the romantic kind and they're still fresh and shy but they're here. And Bucky has absolutely no clue how to deal with them. It's not even that surprising, he realises. Because how could he not catch feelings for Steve? For the kindest, most thoughtful and most selfless person in the world? For someone with his heart made of gold, who always knows how to make Bucky laugh? Someone who gets so passionate about the things he loves and just as much about the ones he despises? Who cares deeply, laughs with his whole body and who next to all this softness and kindness, is also a stubborn little asshole? Who — and this is the most important of all — adores Alex and whom she adores just as much?

Bucky's heart was a lost cause from the start.

Steve has a lot of qualities that Bucky would fall for if he looked for a partner. And that he accidentally might have fallen for anyway. And that's all without even mentioning that Steve is so ridiculously attractive that it might've skewed Bucky's view on beauty forever. 

The point is — Natasha is right. That this could be a good thing. They could be a good thing. But what they have now is already good and Bucky really values this friendship. He isn't sure if pursuing a hypothetical picture in his head is worth putting it at risk. Because he still can't be sure if Steve's interested. For what Bucky knows, he's kind and caring towards all of his friends. It doesn't mean that Bucky and Alex are special. 

He can almost hear Natasha's voice in his head, calling him an idiot and yelling that he won't know until he tries. Which is right, since Natasha always is. It doesn't help him stop the — partially excited but mostly terrified — somersaults his insides make. With a small sigh, he puts the drawing on its place by the lamp, flicks off the lights and burrows himself under the covers. He doesn't have to have everything figured out straight away. Letting himself even consider it is a big enough step for now, he decides as he drifts off to sleep.

.

The next day is Bucky's last day at work before the Christmas break. He doesn't really have much to do, just finishing some last updates and dealing with whatever paperwork he was putting off earlier. Most of the time, he chats with Scott, who has been wandering aimlessly around the institute for the lack of work and eventually landed in Bucky's tiny office. They've been chatting about their Christmas plans — nothing too elaborate for both of them, just simple time at home with their families — and now they started discussing where they should go to grab some lunch. Just as Bucky almost convinced Scott that they should go to this sushi place down the block instead of the Italian place, there's a knock on the door.

Bucky sends his friend a confused look.

"It wasn't me," Scott raises his hands in defence.

"Come in," Bucky calls after another second passes. It's probably someone having a last-minute computer problem or one of his co-workers wanting to drop by with Christmas wishes.

Except, when the door cracks open, Steve's head pokes in. Its hair is messy, its cheeks reddened from the cold and its lips spread in a smile.

"Hi, Buck. And hi Scott, it's nice to see you again," he says. "I'm not interrupting?"

And because Bucky's brain is still processing the fact that for some reason Steve's come to visit him at work, Scott's the one who says, "Not at all, come in."

Steve hesitates for another second. Bucky's brain finally kicks in and he smiles which is apparently the invitation Steve needed, because he finally fully walks into the office.

"Hi, Steve. I didn't expect you here," Bucky says, his smile growing bigger.

"Well, you should. Because after our talk yesterday, I decided to bring you lunch," Steve says, proudly showing a big paper bag in his hand. "I told you you haven't seen shit, and especially not overdramatic me."

This makes Bucky laugh out loud as he shakes his head in disbelief. How is Steve even real?

Scott is watching them with a slightly confused but endeared smile on his face. Before anyone can say anything, he gets up from the chair, slapping his thighs as he does.

"Okay then, I'll leave you to it," he says, walking towards the door.

"There's plenty to share, if you want to join us," Steve offers, because of course he does. His gold-heartedness wouldn't have it any other way.

But Scott only shakes his head at that. "Nah, I'm in the mood for some sushi today. Thanks, though."

"Asshole," Bucky narrows his eyes at Scott. "I hope you'd choke on it."

His friend only laughs at that, "Enjoy your lunch date! It's been great to see you, Steve. Merry Christmas."

"You too, Scott. Say hi to Hope and Cassie from me."

With one last grin aimed at Bucky — and a very pointed look behind Steve's back — Scott leaves them alone. Bucky tries not to dwell on the fact that Steve didn't even bat an eye when Scott called it a lunch date.

"Why should he choke?" Steve asks with a chuckle.

"I've been trying to talk him into going to that sushi place for almost twenty minutes before you came," Bucky sighs and then notices that Steve is still hovering by the door. "Come on, take your coat off and sit down. I can't believe you've brought me lunch."

Steve shrugs off his coat and leaves it on the hanger by the door, next to Bucky's. Today he's wearing a maroon sweater that really suits him and a pair of dark jeans. He pushes his sleeves up before he digs into the bag and Bucky tries not to stare too obviously.

"Someone's got to make sure you eat, since after yesterday I've gotten an idea you're not good at it yourself," Steve says. "Guess it wasn't necessary. Sadly, I don't have sushi but maybe you're in the mood for Thai?"

"Depends on whether you've brought me the dumplings or not," Bucky answers.

Steve laughs in response and takes out one of the boxes and hands it to Bucky. "I did. I also have green curry for you? I hope I remembered correctly that you like it? If not, I'm sorry, we can switch—"

"Steve." Bucky says solemnly, placing his hand on Steve's forearm, to stop him from fumbling with the food. "You not only brought me food but you remembered my favourite after I mentioned it one time. You are an angel. You should hide it better, because you make us mortals look bad."

He's only half joking. Steve does seem like a higher being of some sorts and it's unfair that Bucky's poor heart is supposed to handle it. It doesn't do a great job. Especially not when Steve laughs, his eyes crinkle so much they turn into thin slits.

"And I am the overdramatic one?" Steve asks, unpacking the last things and finally sitting on the chair across from Bucky. He's still smiling but there's a blush colouring his cheeks and creeping down his neck.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek to contain a grin but the truth is, he's immensely proud of himself for pulling this reaction out of Steve. To stop himself from saying something stupid, he digs into his food.

"By the way, how did you find me here?" Bucky asks, his tongue sticking out a bit in concentration as he fishes for a dumpling with his chopsticks. 

"Clara let me know where your office is, she was very helpful."

Bucky furrows his brows. The surprise makes him drop his dumpling back into the container. "Clara, as in Clara Oswald, our receptionist? How do you know her?"

"I don't. We've chatted for a few minutes and I explained why I'm here and she told me how to get to you."

"Ah, of course it took you about five minutes to charm her and get into a government building just like that," Bucky chuckles.

"I didn't charm anyone! I just politely asked and she helped!"

If it wasn't Steve, Bucky would take it as fake modesty. But the truth is that Steve really seems to be completely oblivious to the effect he has on people. It’s endearing to see him do this.

"So here's when you do your cool space stuff?" Steve asks, changing the subject.

"Here's when the real scientists come searching for help when there's some IT-related issue," Bucky corrects him. "I don't do anything cool. I make sure all the data is where it's supposed to be and that whatever equipment they need is ready and working properly. Or part of it, Scott's an engineer and he takes care of the rest. I do get to read some space facts first hand, though."

"That's still cool space stuff for me," Steve shrugs with a small smile. "What kinds of things are you researching here? Like some particular aspects of outer space, or—?"

Normally Bucky would just give the shortest answer possible. People usually get bored quickly when he starts talking about it. But something in the genuine interest on Steve's face, the way he is looking around the office — which is nothing special, the only nice things are the sky maps and some spaced themed art  — makes Bucky think that maybe Steve wouldn't mind getting the longer answer.

"Well, we mostly study the weather. Both the Earth's and the one in the solar system, like the solar winds and magnetic storms, stuff like that. We study exoplanets and try to discover or guess as much as we can about them," Bucky says. "I helped to create simulations that predicted how they could look like and develop, to see if there's a possibility to inhabit them. We did it by basically dumping all the data we have into an elaborate computer programme and waiting to see what comes out." Bucky laughs and Steve does too, but he has the look of utter fascination on his face as he listens. "And all this helps with some more down-to-earth stuff — pun not intended. Like, we've done tons of studies in climate change."

"That's—," Steve starts when he makes sure that Bucky's done. "All of this sounds incredible. And you're a part of all those amazing things, how great is that?"

Bucky feels that his cheeks start to burn. There's another reason he usually sticks with the short answer. As much as he's proud to be working here and as much as he loves it, the impostor in him always makes sure that he understands the difference between his work and the actual research, analysis and all the heavy lifting that the astronomers do. He helps, of course he does. He does a great job at it, but there's still a difference. And such praise usually makes him squirm uncomfortably.

"And don't even try to get all modest with me again," Steve warns as if he's been reading Bucky's mind. "You've said that you don't do cool space stuff and then admitted that you've helped to create a program to imagine how exoplanets can look and change. So I know you're full of bullshit."

Steve raises an eyebrow in what's supposed to be an unimpressed look but it's not even close. The smile and the curious, bright eyes that are stating right at Bucky are destroying the effect. The blush on Bucky's cheeks only deepens, especially as Steve adds. "I've been impressed before but— Wow. Really, you guys are doing such incredible things here, I can’t wrap my head around it."

"We really do," Bucky agrees, eventually.

The beaming smile Steve sends him feels like a reward Bucky didn't know he deserves.

"So you've always liked space? Or was it an accident that brought you here?" Steve asks.

"No, I've always loved it. It's just so fascinating and there's always so much more to learn about it," Bucky doesn't even try to hide his excitement. "I've never fully understood all the science behind it but I loved staring at the sky, trying to find all those constellations and planets and galaxies. I've figured a way to somehow connect it to what I was good at and make it my job. Which is amazing. But now I mostly stare at the computer screen instead of the stars. "

He doesn't want to sound ungrateful but he must admit that it does kill some of the fun. But not even the astronomers simply state up at the sky to admire the view.

Steve only nods in response. "Alex mentioned that you guys went on a trip out of town to watch the stars. It must've been great."

"We did! It was like… almost 2 years ago, I think? I borrowed one of those fancy telescopes they have here. I needed to pick Alex up every time, cause she was too small to reach it," Bucky laughs as he brings out the memories. "It was fun, we should do that again, sometime. But I don't have much time now, so it’ll have to wait."

"It does sound great," Steve smiles that soft smile again. "I hope you'd find some time as it gets warm enough for such trips. I bet Alex would be delighted."

"Yeah. I'll let you know if that happens, in case you'd like to join," Bucky says before he can think better of it.

There's more of the childlike excitement on Steve's face as Bucky mentions it so maybe it wasn't that bad of an idea.

An actual bad idea comes out of Bucky's mouth a bit later, just as Steve is getting ready to head out. Bucky's lunch break is long gone and forgotten, because it's been two hours that Steve spent here. He apologises for staying so long and the assurances that Bucky didn't have any more work to do doesn't help.

"I'm sorry for taking your mind away from your responsibilities, but it was great spending time with you," Steve says.

So of course, because Bucky's heart doesn't get any chance to regroup, he doesn't have time to think before he blurts out. "We should have dinner together."

It's certainly not something Steve was expecting to hear. He just stares at Bucky. Before he has a chance to say anything, Bucky continues, "I mean. You should come for dinner. Clint and Nat are always around for a dinner, sometime between Christmas and New Year's. If you don't have any plans, it would be great if you came. But it's okay if you can't or don't want to."

Another moment passes and Bucky tries not to squirm under Steve's gaze. Luckily, Steve finally blinks and smiles as he says, "No, Buck, of course I'd love to come! I don't have any particular plans, will probably hang out with Sam for most of the break but I'll have plenty of time."

"You could take Sam with you," Bucky adds. He desperately tries to regain the control of his own mouth. "It'd be great to finally meet him."

"I'll let him know, I bet he’d be happy to come, too. Thanks again for the invite," Steve smiles as he cracks open the door. With a little wave, he walks out of the office. "Bye, Buck. Have a nice day."

"You too, Steve," Bucky says to the already closing door.

When Steve's gone, Bucky exhales heavily through his mouth as he leans back in his chair. Both of his hands go up to thread through his hair, tugging at it lightly.

Apparently, he has a dinner to prepare.

taglist: @steverrogers​ @till-the-end-of-the-line-punk​ @buckyshappyending

[makeusfreefromthisfandom]

First of all i want to give a shout out to @ayumiko​ for letting me use her amazing gifs in my writing! I mean just look at them! Be sure to go check out her stuff <3 (the middle gif’s credit goes to @atticwraith)

Overlooked | Ikuya Kirishima x Reader

Anon asked: Hi! Can I request an Ikuya x reader? Maybe a reader who’s really outgoing and stuff, kind of like the total opposite of him. At first he’s kind of annoyed by them, but then he slowly warms up and actually misses them when they’re out sick from school. He goes and visits and things go from there! As a fic writer myself, I thank you so much for providing for fandoms! You’re doing amazing.

A/n: sorry if the ending is a bit tacky, I didn’t know exactly how to end it off

Genre: a bit angsty? fluff at the end

Word count: ~2k this ones a bit long

“Catch up with you guys later ok?” You waved your teammates goodbye as soon as you had spotted a familiar head of deep sea green hair.

“Hey Ikuya!” He turned around and was met with your big smile, nodding in response. You quickly made your way over to him before noticing a third party.

“Oh, hello to you too Hiyori.” Your smile was returned with a little wave of his own. Teeth clenched, because we know he’s internally screaming

“First name basis huh?” Hiyori asked tartly, however a smile still present on his features.

“No need to be so uptight! We’ve all been given a name for a reason, so we can be called by it! By the way we’ve all been acquainted long enough.” You nudged Hiyori slightly in return, glancing at Ikuya, who just cared about making it to class on time. “Which is why I’m constantly telling you two to also call me (f/n)!”

“Hmmm.” Hiyori gave you a closed eyed smile before picking up the pace to catch up with his friend. I’m telling’ ya, internal screaming.

“Hey you two! Wait up!”

Students shuffled into the classroom, you took your usual seat next to Ikuya. You were taking notes when something had caught your eye. “Woah! You’re a really good artist Ikuya!” You leaned in next to him, pointing at the little doodles on the edge of his paper. Instinctively, the boy grabbed his notebook, blocking it from your view.

“T-They’re nothing.” He stated simply and went back to writing, this time with a protective arm shielding his work.

“...you could just take the compliment you know..” you muttered looking away. You felt a tap on your shoulder, making your eyes light up, only to find that it was just another classmate asking for help. You sighed and leaned over behind Ikuya to try and explain the problem.

The bell rang not too soon after. You and Ikuya began gathering your things, fingers brushing slightly in the process. You had managed to stumble out a sorry, but found that the boy was already halfway out the door; oblivious to you, with a small dust of pink hinted on his cheeks.

The next few days were the same, school work, friends, volleyball (yes you play volleyball k? I was watching haikyuu. I couldn’t help it), more volleyball, and failed attempts at a conversation with Ikuya.

“Hey Ikuya! Check it out! There’s a new cafe that’s opened nearby, some friends and I are gonna go check it out, you wanna come?”

“No, sorry I’ve got plans.”

Each day made your heart sink even more, along with the pile of stress, schoolwork and volleyball weighing on your shoulders. Nevertheless, you put on the same bright smile, known to everyone around you, and kept on.

“(L/n)?” Your face lit up at the sound of the familiar voice to your right, “...my eraser rolled over, can you reach it?”

“Huh? Yeah sure!” You gave him a smile and bent down, holding your hand out slightly before something struck you.

Why? Why do I feel like I need his attention? Why am I so pathetic? The realization was like a stab, penetrating deeper and deeper.

“(L/n)?.....(l/n)?....are you okay?”

You broke out of your trance and reached for the eraser, “S-sorry.” You placed the eraser in Ikuya’s hand, who was now looking at you with slight concern. You were silent after that, paying mind to your own work, failing to notice the boy next to you glance at you with worry.

The rest of the day consisted of you dwelling in your own thoughts, ignoring the calls of your friends and teammates. Skipping practice, you went straight home and sprawled out on your bed. Picking up your nearby volleyball, spreading your fingers into a setting position, you began gently tossing the ball up and down with hundreds of thoughts beginning to cloud your brain. Ikuya was never one to hide his annoyance, you knew that. But maybe you did talk too much, and maybe some of your friendships were forced. Were you trying too hard? Were people, unlike Ikuya, hiding their annoyance? Your insecurities that you thought you had left long behind, came flooding back. You shut your eyes tightly, thinking that would make the thoughts go away, as you drifted off into a deep sleep.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm pounding at your head, and made your way to the bathroom. Leaning over the sink, you took a good look at yourself in the mirror. The thoughts of last night still swirling in your head, making it feel like it was going to explode. Suddenly you felt something rise at the back of your throat, as you scrambled towards the the toilet and let it all out. The throbbing sensation on your right side became more prominent, the lights around you making it worse.

A couple of hours later, you thought you had heard your phone ring. Quite a few times actually. Great to know people care about me, you thought sarcastically. You decided to stay home with all the lights off and the blinds tightly shut, every movement or thought pulsating your head further. You couldn’t remember exactly when, but you had eventually passed out on the couch, failing to hear the sound of your front door opening.

“(L/n)?....” Ikuya had suspected something was up with you these past couple of days. Although the facade you had built around you might have fooled another, you had been around to constantly bug, not that he really minded deep down, for Ikuya to realize you were acting different.

“(L/n)!” Ikuya panicked, his eyes adjusting to the dark space, to catch a glimpse of a limp silhouette passed out on the couch. He quickly came to your side, checking to make sure you were okay.

H-huh? You slowly began to wake to a hovering dark figure with amber eyes looking over you in concern. Ikuya?

Ikuya quickly backed away, face flushed and glad it was dark, once he had realized you were awake. You however, took a moment to just stare at him, headache or whatever forgotten.

Am I hallucinating? Why is Ikuya here?

“....you weren’t at school and your friends were saying how you weren’t answering any of their calls....you’ve been acting weird for the past couple of days....so I came to check on you...” Even in the dark, you could see the glimmer of his cat-like eyes.

Wait? He noticed?

“I also brought you the notes you all the notes and assignments you missed...your captain was pretty pissed off too...” He moved forward, hesitantly resting his hand on your forehead before moving to his bag to take out his notebook and some other papers. “You don’t feel all that warm...are you sure you’re not just skipping?”

Has he always been this talkative?

He stopped and turned expectantly, waiting for your reply. Before you could even think about opening your mouth, another surge of pain made its way, with you clenching the right side of your head in pain.

“M-migraine...” you managed to barely get out. Instantly, Ikuya was at your side, crouched down, back facing towards you.

“We should probably get you somewhere you can actually relax first.” He kept his pink-tinted face forward, waiting for you to climb onto his back, which you did without complaints. You warily pointed a finger in the direction of your bedroom, as he slowly made his way and rested you gently on the bed, before awkwardly standing off to the side. You pointed with your eyes, still in pain, to the edge of your mattress. After a few minutes of silence, you began to make sense of your situation.

“Why’d you come here Ikuya....?” You propped yourself against your pillows, head hung low to hide the blush creeping up your neck and cheeks.

Ikuya was silent for a bit before whispering ever so slightly, “You were more quiet than usual for the past week....I got worried....”

You were barely able to catch the last part as your eyes widened, before lowering back your gaze. “Shouldn’t you be relieved though? I’m not being annoying or a nuisance to you...”

Ikuya’s head shot up as he suddenly lunged towards you. “I don’t-,” before composing himself, “I don’t think you’re annoying...I actually like when you talk to me...” again, the last part barely above a whisper.

“Ikuya...” Another tinge pain shot up throughout the side of your head, as you let out a small whimper.

“D-do you need some medicine?! Where’s your cabinet?!” You let out a giggle, before it turned into full blown laughter, headache completely forgotten. Ikuya looked at you confused while you wiped the corners of your eyes. There was something about your disheveled, humorous state, that made Ikuya feel a complexity of emotions suddenly stir inside of him. Soon, and he had no idea why, he started to laugh along with you. You paused and took in his image, the feelings in your own heart becoming more evident.

“....here I was thinking you hated my guts...” you murmured softly, shaking your head, but then instantly regretting it. “But, I already took some medicine not too long ago.” You paused again, but this time more seriously. Despite the painful state you were currently in, you still couldn’t ignore the gut feeling in your stomach.

“Ikuya...you are aware right?” Ikuya was now also looking directly at you. “...aware how I feel about you...” He froze, wide-eyed and eyebrows raised. He could no longer deny the growing feeling in his heart either. He blushed and looked away,

“...I feel the same way about you too (f/n)...for a while now...”

He said it softly, but you were just able to catch the last part as your eyes were now bulging out of your sockets. He caught a glimpse of your expression before suddenly backing away, as if he had said something wrong.

“W-what is it! W-why are you looking at me like that.”

“That’s the first....first time you ever called me by my first name...”

And for a while now? Maybe you really were oblivious.

By the look on his face, he had just realized this as well, but crossed his arms anyways, avoiding eye contact.

“It is your name you know...of course I would call you by it...” Your body moved before you had time to process what you were doing, and soon your cool hands met warm, as Ikuya gently sat back down, face now red, but still avoiding your gaze. Just as you were about to say something, a familiar sensation danced it’s way back, as you squeezed your eyes shut, removing your hands from Ikuya’s to clutch onto your head.

“Here lie down...” you obeyed, bracing for the next wave of pain, only to be met with slender fingers running through your locks, massaging in place once they had found their destination. You relaxed under Ikuya’s touch, eyelids becoming heavy.

Ikuya smiled to himself, scooting closer and watching your brows slowly unknit, as you drifted off into a peaceful slumber. ~

[memoriashell]

not entirely present in mind ( but sentimentally, feelings are always the same )

Characters /  Pairing: Fukawa Touko / Naegi Komaru, ft. WoH in the bg

crossposted on ao3

Notes: day 4 of tokomaru week!! shopping and night out prompts. the warriors of hope get mentioned in the bg as their kids but don't feature heavily in this fic.

tws for abuse / trauma mentions, touko is also slightly out of character because she's drunk ( they are both responsible adults and are safe the entire time! )

Summary:  sometimes it's nice to have a night to themselves.

When you have five kids to look after, it’s rare to for them get a moment to herself. Or a moment with her wife. Much less a night to go out. Well, it’s not like they don’t get to go out with the kids. In fact, she might let them indulge in that perhaps a little too often— or so Touko argues but can’t actually find it in her to say no to. Her point being that they do not get to go out by themselves. That’s usually the case, at least.

Which is why when Touko casually brings up the fact that she finally sealed a deal on her latest manuscript, Komaru uses that as an excuse for them to go out and celebrate. Their anniversary roughly over is a month away anyways, might as well kill two birds with one stone because god knows they will probably be too busy with the kids to actually remember to do much of anything. Not that they really need to, she knows how much they love each other regardless! It’s just fun to have an extra excuse to celebrate.

( And don’t get her wrong: she loves her all five of her kids— most days— she really, really does. And she’s happy she can have the opportunity to raise these kids with her wife, and show both them and her wife what a good, loving family looks like. But it also tires her out to take care of five children, along with her own job, and sometimes they need to take a brief break from it.

...Okay it’s also because Makoto owes her a favor, and she’s very eager to cash in on that favor by getting her brother to help keep an eye on the kids for one evening. It’ll be fine. The kids love him? )

Touko rolls her eyes at her and tells her that she’s being unnecessarily dramatic about all of this when she informs her of their plans, once she works out the details. But Komaru can see the blush that accompanies this and knows that she’s won her over and considers that her personal victory. The only condition she has is to make sure her brother is not the only one watching the kids, which: yeah, fair enough, five kids was hard enough with two of them; so she just asks Makoto to make sure he’s not the only one watching the kids.

She knows Touko hates dressing up nice when they go out— she hardly likes dressing up for her own press releases, and those are like actually important events, so she makes sure it's a pretty casual thing. Most of their outings have always tended to be fairly relaxed, and she thinks both of them prefer it that way. The bare minimum of make-up on her face accompanies one of her nicer outfits; which is still a notable effort on her part, but doesn’t make too big of a deal about it.

( She can deduce that Syo probably had a hand in that choice, and just hopes they hadn’t bothered her about it too much. They’re usually good at recognizing limits, and if nothing else, she doesn’t like assuming the worst of their intentions )

Dinner goes well, once she can get Touko to feel less self-concious about herself. Not that it’s a bad thing that she is, it’s not her fault, and she knows she’s trying her best; it’s just more enjoyable when she doesn’t have to worry as much about how she’s feeling. Alright, the glass(es) of wine that she’d had might have also helped with that, but she seems to be handling it pretty well, so she’s not too worried. Even when it became apparent that some of her anxiety had been amplified by the alcohol, but again she seems to be handling it okay. She’s only slightly tipsy...okay, maybe a little more than slightly, but they’re responsible adults. Or, uh, have to be because Masaru won’t take to them being drunk well, and bringing up that trauma is not something she wants to do. And also because technically they’re supposed to grab groceries on the way home. Not exactly the most romantic end to a date night, but sacrifices must be made.

Now only if Komaru could convince her wife to let go of her long enough for her to go shopping, keeping her voice low as not to disturb her too much. “You could nap off some of the alcohol here in the car while I go shopping?”

“Noooo...” She whines around the bottle of water in her mouth, free hand gripping to her arm like her life depends on it. Komaru can easily pry her off, but she’d rather not do that. “Don’t leave...leave me alone. If I do...you won’t c-come back.”

That melts her heart a little. In like, a sad way; being reminded of her wife’s deep-rooted insecurities is never a nice thing. Komaru taps her wedding ring, which effectively gets her attention after a few minutes. “This is pretty good proof that I’m going to come back, right? But if you don’t feel like sleeping, you can come inside. You think you can handle sitting in the cart?”

“Uh huh. I...can sit fine, d-d-dumbass.” Touko responds in a very unconvincing way, but it does get her to let go at the very least.

“M’kay. Let me get out, so I can help you.”

“Can do...get it myself.” She argues, but also makes no effort to do anything other than sip at her water. For good measure, Komaru grabs a second bottle to slip into her purse; in case she manages to down all of that while they’re inside. She lets her lean against the side of the car while she grabs a cart, and watches her halfway launch herself into a flip to get over the side of the cart. Which was more Syo like behavior, so she figures they might be co-fronting? It wouldn’t be anything she wasn’t used to, but she should probably keep a close eye on them just in case.

“You’re okay?” She asks just to be sure, reaching out to brush the hair out of her face carefully and laughs softly at the way Touko tries to lean into her hand.

“Mhm...I love you.” Her voice is a soft murmur, and yeah it’s not anything she hasn’t heard before, but it still warms her heart to hear. It’s moments like these that make it hard for her to understand why people think so horribly of her. Most people don’t get to see this side of her ( usually, this is more like how she is early in the mornings and late at night, half asleep and vulnerable ) and see how loving she is— scared of loving and being loved. Touko has so much love, she knows the way she loves her and her friends and their kids and knows she is not the person people say she is, that her insecurities make her think she is. Komaru hates knowing all that because she deserves all that love and more, and makes sure she knows it as she presses her lips to the top of her head.

“I love you too! Are you sure you’re up to shopping though? You really don't gotta come with.” If it wasn’t for the fact she knows the kids won’t have breakfast in the morning if she doesn’t go shopping tonight, she’d honestly just call it a night and grab groceries another time.

Though truthfully, shopping with her drunk wife is still less of a hassle than trying to shop with any number of kids. Making sure they stay out of trouble is a chore within itself, and she’s thankful that’s not the case tonight.

“I’m...‘m good. Just go slow..?”

“I can do that.” She beams, even if she thinks that wasn't entirely necessary for her to mention— okay maybe she’s guilty of cart coasting down aisles with her feet off the ground, but that’s just to please the kids. She knows better than to do that with her drunk wife. Probably. She thinks she would realize it is a bad idea to do so ( on account of her getting sick ) before she would actually do so, at least.

Now it’s just a matter of trying to remember where she put their shopping list. It was more convenient to have it typed up on her phone, but it's easier for everyone to add onto if they just leave a notepad specifically for this. Even if on more than one occasion she’s flipped over a shopping list to find several paragraphs of something Touko has no recollection of writing ( that isn’t Syo either ), or realized that Jataro has doodled over half the list without meaning to.

She finally recalls which pocket she’d put it in for safekeeping, and they can get going. Slowly, adding things to the cart...and on top of her wife’s lap. Not that Touko seems to notice, since the next time Komaru checks on her she’s just staring straight up at her, face red. She’s so cute? She seems to realize that she’s got her attention, since she reaches up to tug on her sleeve. “Kotoko and Masaru w-wanted fruit snacks, right...? Don’t forget...”

“Already got it, don’t worry. Made sure to grab the vitamins too.” She reassures, a bit impressed that she manages to be that coherent in recalling that, gently prying her hand from her sleeve; holding it in hers for a moment before carefully dropping her hand back down to rest in her lap. She continues shopping in silence, making sure to double-check the list for anything else she might have missed— or at least make sure she’s not missing anything important.

After a while she has to stop again, when she realizes Touko’s trying to mumble something to her, leaning down to hear her. “Don’t forget the...the fish.”

Komaru’s brows crinkle in confusion. “Fish? Like, the fish snacks, or...?” She doesn’t have anything on the list that matches that description, nor does she remember the kids bringing up any requests along those lines.

“N-Noooo...” She starts to shake her head and then immediately looks like she regrets that choice. “Like, like the ones that go in a tank. Like the kids asked.”

It takes Komaru a minute to figure out what she’s trying to get at, and bites back a snort. “That’s not something we can get at the supermarket. Or that we’re taking care of tonight.”

( To elaborate: the kids recently brought up the prospect of having a pet. With varying degrees of effectiveness. To which they’d said they’d think about, mostly because again, they have their hands full with their kids as it is— but also on the basis that five kids do not agree on any one thing easily, and she can only imagine how much it will take them to agree on one pet. Komaru thinks it’s cute that even while drunk, she manages to be mindful of the kids )

“Oh. Thank fucking god.” She mutters. “I don’t want to be a mother this young.”

This one she has to laugh at, because there’s no way she can stifle herself this time: mostly because, while the implication might seem bad, she knows that’s far from what’s probably happening here ( not consciously, at any rate, she knows she’d had more than her fair share of concerns when the topic of adopting the kids had came up ). “Sweetheart, we are already parents...?”

“Oh...” Touko says, drunken awe in her expression, like this hadn’t occurred to her. “I g-g-guess you’re right...not the same.”

Komaru pats her gently, a smile curling at her lips. She’s curious about what she means by that, but she’ll leave that for another time. “Mhm, sure. Let’s get going, okay?”

There’s nothing inherently romantic about ending a date night by taking care of her drunk wife while doing grocery shopping, but it’s still a nice end to a good night— even if they both end up forgoing doing anything further that night, and just go straight to bed once they get home.

[letsperaltiago]

i don’t wanna miss you like the other girls do

#12: I can't stop thinking about you, #22: Sometimes I just can't control myself when around you and #28: I have never felt this way about anyone

or 

Jealous! Amy and brand new relationship-Peraltiago

Also: Do I need to make a statement saying that Amy obviously isn't the kind of person to think she owns anyone, but means it well and in an endearing way? There you go.

Enjoy!

Read here or on AO3 

It had all gone down in a spur of the moment-kind of moment that no one, even less Amy, had seen coming and honestly would’ve preferred to be without. It wasn’t really her place to say or do what she did, nor even as much as react upon it, alas… she did; she was in so deep with Jake Peralta and so she did it anyways.

Said moment had gone down during a weekend spent in Hartford, Connecticut, where the squad had attended a two day-seminar hosted by their brothers and sisters in the HPD.

Since the drive to Hartford was one of two hours, plus the seminar took place Saturday through Sunday, the squad had huddled together in two cars and were spending the entire weekend, Friday through Sunday, north of their respective homes in Brooklyn.

Immediately from the moment they arrived at the the hotel slash conference venue where the seminar was to be held everything seemed to set the scene for a pretty smooth, perhaps even fun, weekend where the squad would get to be entertained by other things that the wondering of why they weren’t at home on a weekend.

No one on the squad had any kind of expectations for the unknown city, except Holt who mentioned The Mark Twain House and Museum as a highly ranked point on his to be done-list, which meant their collective surprise upon exploring the city after checking into their rooms Friday afternoon was indeed positive enough for them to not hate the fact they were spending their weekend away from home doing work-related activities.

The very second the clock obnoxiously signalled 7 AM the following day, because not being home wasn’t an excuse, Amy Santiago was up and out of bed leaving Jake to regret, just for a tiny second, that he shared a room with his brand new paramour. It’d only been two weeks since coming to terms about “screw light and breezy”, and so far everything was smooth sailing although that morning was clearly an example of the two still figuring out this new dynamic of theirs.

“Ugh, can you stop being a decent person and get back in bed,” Jake groaned in pain when Amy without hesitance pulled aside the curtain to let in the bleak east coast-sun. If they’d been away on vacation in Mexico, even just as far as California, then maybe Jake would’ve accepted this. But there sure as hell was nothing less motivating than a sad barely there-sun hiding behind puffy clouds but still shining brightly enough to rip him out of his comfortable sleep. Especially when all there was to “look forward to”, quote Amy, was seminars; learning and powerpoint presentations that would haunt him in his next sleep.

“Stop whining and get up! The seminar starts at 8!” Amy hurried carelessly at him used to his many complaints of this childish nature. She didn’t let it take up too much of her time and had already moved on to grab clean clothes from her duffle bag to put on after her routine shower.

From where he had indeed not moved an inch Jake could hear the shower being turned on, door to the bathroom still open, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was exhausted from staying up just a bit too late watching stupid videos on his phone then he would’ve attempted to sneak into the steaming water with Amy because he could do that now… Insane.

On the other side of the shower curtain Amy had expected the same. There was very good reason why she’d added the little detail of leaving the door open and hoped would lure him out of bed. To her disappointment she quickly noticed her so-called sneaky plan was in vain leaving but one last attempt up her sleeve.  

“Jake, the breakfast buffet closes at 7.30!” she called out momentarily turning off the shower to allow her to pick up on potential sounds which could indicate her victory.

Indeed the last attempt was the right one: seconds later she heard the sound of quick footsteps and the ruffling of what she guessed was clothing items before a messy-haired, baggy-eyed Jake stumbled into the bathroom stark naked and on the edge of out of breath. The way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach, Amy though to herself amused.

“Mind if I join in real quick?” he smiled sheepishly trying his best to hide exhaustion.

All complaints and opposing to her morning ritual went down the drain with shower water the moment Amy turned it back on and smiled through biting down on her bottom lip.

Santiago: 1 - Peralta: 0

—

Perhaps Amy had twisted the truth just a tiny bit to get him out of bed so early. Jake figured this out when they 20 minutes later walked downstairs and saw a sign announcing that the first part of the seminar wasn’t scheduled for 8, like Amy had said, but rather 9 and buffet as well only closed an hour later than Amy’s information had told him. Lucky for her he was so infatuated that he let her off the hook with a playful jab to her sides and a comment about how she probably didn’t even want to date him but was simply a double-agent sent to improve his habits and lifestyle. This in return earned him a very familiar by now laugh, roll of this eyes and smile-combo: a combo he’d never get tired of and already felt like getting an eternal subscription to.

The seminar was okay, he guessed; either that or watching Amy furiously yet impressively neatly take notes with the speed of light beside him was enough to make it feel so. He was convinced of the latter when she afterwards with the brightest smile on her face showed him all the knowledge she’d managed to boil down to a few neatly organised pages in her notebook. It felt dangerous so early on in whatever they would turn out to be, yet also so very natural that in his world nothing was greater than the sight of Amy Santiago smiling at him. A sight he’d quickly grown addicted to already years back although without coming to terms with it until some months prior.

“Are you sticking around for the Q & A?” Amy interrupted his wandering thoughts whilst getting a new page in her notebook ready as a few people started leaving their seats and the conference room.

“Nah,” Jake shook his head honestly knowing that it would be lying to both himself and her if he tried to act like he genuinely cared about sticking around for an additional 30 minutes of re-explaining what he’d already spent 2 hours zoning in and out of. “I think I’ll head to the lounge. I’m feeling snacky.”

“Of course,” Amy smiled shaking her head in an evident manner. “See you at lunch then?”

“Yup,” he got out of his seat before adding a “see you at lunch, nerd,” accompanied by one last teasing smile before joining Rosa on her walk towards the exit. The comment combined with his soft brown eyes and warm smile was enough to have Amy feeling like a puddle of mush in her seat. To know that said brown eyes and warm smile were… hers? It felt weird to say or even just think it since they hadn’t officially declared themselves boyfriend/girlfriend but definitely were something; something not light and breezy; perhaps solid was the appropriate antithesis to use?

No matter what - light, breezy, solid or whatever they could be defined as - when her eyes trained after Jake walking off for just tiny bit longer than intended, Amy definitely noticed how a group of four women, colleagues, she assumed, sitting on the other side of the middle isle between her and them where Jake was walking chatted and giggled as their eyes switched back and forth between each other and Amy’s favorite partner. In spite of the fact that she was en excellent lipreader Amy, to her curiosity’s dismay, couldn’t exactly tell what these women were saying or giggling about however two things were certain: one was that they were in one way or another very interested in Jake, even after he’d left the room, and two was that Amy didn’t like it. An uneasy tightness formed in her stomach telling her so and she for the following 30 minutes of a Q & A she had looked forward to couldn’t focus enough to take any actual notes. All she was left with post Q & A were mindless doodles on an otherwise blank page which was both a waste of paper and but even worse of no good use for her knowledge.

The second the seminar was officially completely over which was everyone’s cue to leave for lunch, Amy did her best, notebook and pencil case held tightly to her chest, in an attempt to get as close to the giggly group of women from before as the room’s population walked out of the room in one big stream. Completely forgetting that she was supposed to meet up with the Jake and the others for lunch she automatically followed the four women to the hotel bar where they settled down - and so of course so did Amy simply opting for a few seats further down in conjunction with ordering herself a soda as to not attract herself any suspicion or attention.

“Oh my gosh, Sydney, you have to figure out who that guy from the seminar was!”

This definitely caught Amy’s attention, both to her pleasing and bitterness: pleasing because she’d been right about her gut-feeling and bitterness because that guy was her guy. Not whoever this Sydney was.

“Yeah, he was pretty cute right?” Who Amy guessed was Sydney, a tall, beautiful blonde clad in a nice pantsuit, Amy had to admit, answered just as enthusiastically.

“Totally! And since he’s here, probably, also a cop,” the same friend who had started the conversation chimed in and Amy wished to God she’d just shut up rather than stuff her friend’s head with bad ideas like hitting on Amy’s own guy.

“I smell work place-romance, ladies,” a third friend giggled riling the other’s up along with her. To them it was all a joke, fun, some kind of competition of cat and mouse but Amy, at her respective end of the bar, was feeling herself starting to boil, more than she’d like to admit, at the thought of someone else taking away from her what she’d just struggled for so long to obtain. It was her cute cop-guy from the seminar; her work-place romance; her… whatever! And also what kind of dumb name was Sydney even? Jake and Sydney? So dumb.  

“I mean we are here for another entire day so I’ll have to make sure to run into him at some point. Tonight…” the tone of Sydney’s voice took on a sultry undertone that had Amy shuffling uncomfortably in her seat. “… wouldn’t be a bad time to run into him.” The smug smile on the blonde’s face had Amy feeling like punching it right off of her.

As if on cue, like timing couldn’t have been any worse, friend number four made her presence be known and squealed with excitement while pointing which of course immediately earned herself the three other’s full attention. “Girls! There he comes! Right there!”

Within seconds all four girls heads snapped to the side with wide hungry eyes reminding Amy of what a flock of vultures looked like prior to ripping apart an animal cadaver in a documentary she’d watched a few days ago.

Vulture-like or not, Amy’s head was included in this collective redirecting of focus and followed the direction in which the friend had pointed to.

And there he was indeed: Jake Peralta, clad in his navy blue long-sleeved NYPD-shirt and freshly cut hair with the tiniest hint at a beginning forehead curl, was walking into the lounge that very moment seemingly looking around for someone and also completely unaware of the people watching him as his entrance seems to unfold in slow-motion. Amy almost couldn’t blame the girls for drooling because the cocky detective looked really good walking into the room completely oblivious to the attention he’d brought upon himself.

“Damn… He looks even cuter than what I remembered. I have to give it a try, don’t I?” Sydney questioned, obviously rhetorically already knowing what she wanted as she almost drooled like an agitated Doberman.  

“I mean if you won’t, Sydney, then I will!” the friend who’d noticed Jake enter the room playfully challenged, and even though it was all fun and games to them, Amy felt like her seat was on fire making it almost impossible to stay passive and seated for much longer.

“Oh, hell no. Stay away from him. This one’s mine, Jasmin!”

There was no telling if the line had already been crossed multiple inappropriate remarks ago and she’d managed by the grace of God to stay seated or if this last comment was the one to exceed what Amy considered her very flexible limits. Either way, no matter what, the first one option or the other, this time Amy failed to bite her tongue. She threw a comment out into the open without thoroughly considering its consequences out in the open fora first thus letting the group, especially Sydney, know what was weighing on her mind.

“You've got a lot of nerve to call a complete stranger ‘yours’,” the borderline growl of a tone in which the words came out in had Amy feeling like another person: not one she specially liked. This person, or perhaps even primitive beast was a better way of describing this persona, rooted deep down in her apparently found it very necessary to protect what she already within two weeks had come to mark as her territory. Never before had she felt so green-eyed, so absolutely reckless. This being said her instincts were more vigilant than ever before and it virtually felt out of her hands.

In the meantime, while Amy was looking at her decision in retrospect yet not at all since she wasn’t doing anything to prevent any further complications, the women had turned in their seats to collectively shoot quizzical, annoyed looks resembling daggers with their eyes at Amy.

“Excuse me?” The blue-eyed blonde challenged Amy to take her statement back which roughly said only goaded her raven-haired opponent further down the warpath.

“I said: You've got a lot of nerve to call a complete stranger ‘yours’.”

Feeling herself so ice-cold, so sure about something partially dumb and actually really petty would normally have Amy back down right away but something deep inside of her, like a raging fire, had her stand her ground. Apparently that’s what Jake Peralta could bring out in certain people, both Amy and Sydney included, because the blonde was not backing down just, rather instead coolly took another shot at Amy in the hopes to have her back off.

“Why shouldn't I? It’s not like he’s everyone, right? I’m for sure not letting any of these girls run off with him,” she pointed to the her friends behind her, the switch from threatening Amy to mindlessly joking and giggling with her little girl-squad having Amy metaphorically slack-jawed. Luckily not physically: there was no way she was showing this bimbo any sign of weakness.

“Okay, well…” Amy had had it for good and all consideration of rationality was out the window. Crowded police seminar or not there was no way in hell this light haired pest with her greedy crystal blue eyes and three flippant followers were getting the last word.“…let me explain to you why how you shouldn't assume and make people your property. Especially when you don’t even know them.”

Yes, she was being a hypocrite saying this but she was actually Jake’s special someone and not just some stranger: she did have a say in this.

For a brief second Sydney seemed shocked and like she actually considered Amy’s bold statement, but it didn’t last and before long blondie was back in the game apparently not satisfied with the way things could be left off. They way things should be left off, if you asked Amy.

“Oh, so you’re his “girlfriend” or what?,” the tone of Sydney’s voice clearly implied she didn’t believe anything Amy said.

All the, not doubt per se since she knew she wanted to be with Jake and he with her, but perhaps the insecurities about what stage they were currently at melted and slipped away as water off a duck’s back. It didn’t matter what exactly they were when one thing, the most important fact, was sure: they liked each other and they were going… steady. They were each other’s, politically correct to say or not.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I am,” Amy’s voice and eyes drilled into Sydney’s with a kind of confidence she’d never felt before, perhaps something Jake had brought into her life along with himself.

In return it earned her a mocking scoff.

“Easy for you to say. He might as well be a random guy you’ve spotted in the crowd,” one of Sydney’s friends stepped in to help her friend in what Amy knew was a lost cause on their part.

“He could be a stranger,” Amy paused very briefly biting her lip as to refocus, hopefully managing to not say anything that could potentially make the pointless, stupid conversation even worse. This but also she still did want to make very clear that the random, cute cop walking into the lounge (who even knew where exactly he was at this point?) was hers.

“But he’s not: he’s my boyfriend.”

It was as Amy allowed herself a small halt to provide her lungs with fresh air, just in case Sydney felt like dragging out the discussion, when cute cop-guy very suddenly made his exact position  known. He was walking straight up to the bar and them displaying smiley lips and eyes plastered on Amy. All the women’s eyes - Amy, Sydney and friends - immediately forgot about their opponent to focus on newly reappeared target who obviously had no clue about the fact that he was walking into the belly of the beast when he made it to his destination next to Amy.

“Hey, Ames.”

He nonchalantly stretched out his right arm to place a hand on the bar behind her crating a point of support for him to lean his weight onto.

“You catching up with some old friends?”

Oh, sweet naive Jake, Amy thought but also lowkey melted as he very credulously sent Sydney and her friend’s a warm, welcoming smile wanting to make a good impression on who he believed were part of Amy’s social circle.

“Eh,” Amy smiled culpably knowing telling Jake the truth about the situation would be the epitome of an embarrassment so early on in this new relationship of theirs. “I was just making small-talk, I guess. You know… meeting new people - yay.”

She couldn’t have sounded any less awkward and enthusiastic, even if she tried. Jake, on his part, was either really openminded or had figured out there was a good reason as to why she acted like she did and didn’t want to dig deeper into it, settling for an understanding nod.

“Well, anyhow… I don’t mean to interrupt anything but you never showed up for lunch and so I just popped in to try and find you.”

Even head turned to look at Jake who was slightly behind her meaning she could only see Sydney out of the corner of her eye, Amy could tell her smug, confident look from before was faltering with every exchange of words between Jake and Amy though they were far from flirty or telling about their relationship in any way. And, yes, she could’ve left it at that, as undramatic at it had all managed to turn out but Amy, well aware of how petty it was, she knew, couldn’t help but want to conclusively knock in the nail of victory.  

“Aw,” Amy spun a quarter of a round on her barstool to face Jake behind her before affectionally placing a hand on his chest - both for the sake of the show but also because, wow, she could actually do that as she pleased now. Something she was still getting used to.

“That’s very sweet of you, babe,” the word in focus was always said in an affectionate tone but this specific context definitely had it over-enhanced and laced with extra sweetness to make her message very clear.

Then breaking her own no making out at work-rule, the only rule to have survived “screw light and breezy”, she couldn’t help herself and gave into the enraged possessiveness inside of her. She leaned in to place a soft, just a bit longer than a peck, kiss to Jake who automatically lightly bent his neck to eliminate the remaining space between their current height difference. The kiss was good, they always were with him, but it definitely had to send a signal that hopefully Sydney would pick up on: do not touch.

Amy, not wanting to break her own rule too much and give in to straight up inappropriate PDA, then pulled back to throw the women-squad a smirk over her shoulder as her hand never left the safety of Jake’s blue shirt.

“Anyways… I think we’re done here? Right, girls?”

To her immense pleasure Amy was met by a mixture of bitterness and surprise which had to mean she’d proven her point. Finally. Jake Peralta, officially boyfriend or not, was not to be considered anyone but hers - apart from being very much his own person as well.

In the meantime, slightly shocked but also far from displeased by Amy’s very out of blue-kiss, Jake stood passive by waiting for his partner’s upcoming directions. He didn’t have to wait for long because whoever these other women were, Amy was done with them and hopped off of her stool promptly grabbing his hand to walk away with. It took him a few feet of walking in silence before Jake could fully assemble and give meaning to everything that had just happened. He turned to question a still smug, also a bit guilty-looking, Amy.

“Okay, so are you going to tell me what all that was about?”

They kept walking out of the lounge and down one of the many halls of the hotel.

“Nothing.”

Jake was perhaps naive at times as he saw a lot of good in everything, which Amy loved, but he knew a guilty lip bite when he saw it and it was currently on full display on the raven haired beauty.  

“Hey,” he pulled her aside into one of the many small wall pockets leading to individual hotel rooms as he wished to seclude them in hopes of it easing her into telling him the truth. “What’s up with you?” he smiled knowingly taking some intensity out of the moment. It’s not like he was angry or anything, curious being a better word for it.

“Nothing,” she smiled sheepishly trying to hurry out of the secluded area but quickly realising she’d failed once she felt his hand wrap around her upper arm to gently pull her back in. Her back gently fell back against the wall before him forcing her to face him.  

He lightly tilted his head to the side much like a puppy would when feeling peculiar which was hard to resist when his eyes, soft and brown, had so much resemblance with a sweet puppy’s as well. She could tell he was teasing her, aware of the fact that he knew something she didn’t and it drew her insane in both the worst and best way - Jake Peralta summed up for you.

“Now I don’t believe that… girlfriend.”

In contrast to the playfulness controlling her body seconds ago Amy Santiago suddenly felt much more put on the spot, it clearly showing by the way her blood all at once seemed to fire up her cheeks. He’d overheard her talking to Sydney and the others; he’d heard her declare herself as his girlfriend when they hadn’t even agreed on calling each other that yet. The nervousness tricked her into making a loud swallow; yet another tell.

“Oh… y-you heard that?” She stuttered.

Jake nodded firmly almost encapsulating her against the wall when he took a step forwards, but made sure to leave just enough space for her to not feel straight up trapped against her will. A small smug smile on display. Why was he enjoying this? Didn’t he see that he was torturing her?

“I’m sorry - I really didn’t mean to. I know we’ve just barely begun seeing each other as more than friends, it’s just these girls were saying things about you and sometimes I just can't control myself when around you and then it just kind of-“

He cut off her rambling by pressing his lips to hers, much needed, gently pressing her up against the wall although. Only because they were hidden from the majority of the hotel’s population, Amy allowed and excused this - or so she told herself. The feeling of his welcoming lips made her forget the mess for a few seconds, just giving into how good of a kisser Jake Peralta was, and even for a few seconds after their lips parted again she was speechless and dumbfounded by how she’d gotten herself a guy this great.

“Stop apologising,” he chuckled quickly using his thumb to wipe the corner of his mouth which inevitably made him look that much hotter.

“I know we didn’t exactly “agree on it” and that it’s still all very new, like you said, but, Ames…” his eyes mellowed after looking just a tad too cocky and alluring before, during and right after the kiss. This was definitely a different shade of Jake looking into her eyes and talking: a very soft one. “… I don’t need a certain trial period or approval from anyone to know that I’m your boyfriend and you’re my girlfriend.”

Upon hearing these words coming from the one and only Jake Peralta with recipient being herself, Amy Santiago she felt her heart shoot through the roof, take a trip around the moon and fly straight back into her chest where it had her feeling like crying, smiling, screaming and laughing all at once: a very maniac-like but also wonderful feeling. The most wonderful as far as she could recall.

“And I’m not going to force you to tell me exactly what happened, but just based on the way your fists were basically clenched when I walked up to you, am I wrong to assume that they were, let’s say, treading on your territory…”

If she’d been blushing before then now her face was definitely on fire and looking down at her feet apparently didn’t help cover it at all. The silence was enough of an answer, one which he chuckled in reaction to.

“It’s okay, Ames. At least I came around before you could Jimmy Brogan them.”

At this sympathetic joke reminding her of a time that seemed to be so long ago she had to look back up. She couldn’t hold back a chuckle and it warmed her heart to share it with him just like when he shared his with her. All the previous insecurities: had she gone too far? Let her tongue run away with her? Given too much of herself too fast to something as brand new as her relationship with Jake? It had all been answered by a few simple words, caring eyes and a kiss that told her everything she needed to know.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m this crazy-jealous, possessive type. I’m normally not like this, I promise. I guess I have never felt this way about anyone before and maybe that’s why I’m acting up. Amy I crazy?” a tingling feeling of vulnerability made an encore.

“No, you’re not because I’m right here freaking out, in the best kind of way, because of what you just said. This is the first time I feel like this too, like I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s scary and great all at once.” Jake was quick to wash away said vulnerability she was feeling and replaced it with a prickling affection and hope.

“So… no more feeling insecure about us?” he offered some kind of peace-offering, partly to her but mostly to their shared insecurities, trying to not come off as too gluttonous as he slid his hands onto her waist wanting to soak in a new feeling of belonging. A feeling he’d found in her.

“Deal,” Amy accepted the offering with a sheepish smile as her insides flipped upside down witch excitement. All she wanted was to be with this guy, fully and greatly, and this confrontation and mutual agreement would allow her to not give a damn about future external factors.  

“Noice. Smart,” escaped him in optimistic relief but before she could roll her eyes at it he leaned in to softly kiss her again. Being held by him, hands gently tracing the front pockets of her pants while his lips took her to another world, was something she could never deny him or herself - screw the rules. Lips collided over and over again, one tug bringing on the next until they lost sense of anything and were full on making out like a pair of horny high schoolers in-between classes. This is what they brought out in each other: happiness, fire, want and so many more things they’d both spent the last two weeks wondering how they’d lived without before.

Unfortunately their movie-like moment had to be cut somewhat short as people coming back from lunch started flooding the hall passing by their little intimate pocket in the wall. Amy liked Jake but she also liked staying professional and this Jake respected. They jumped back, creating an exaggerated amount of space between them before sending passing strangers innocent smiles as if they hadn’t just spent the last few minutes declaring feelings and making out at an interstate police seminar.

“So, Detective Santiago…” his voice took on a brand new tone of gravity - a tone she also recognised as acting. “Shall we head over for lunch?”

“I’m sorry to come bearing such bad news, Detective Peralta, but people are flooding the hall as per consequence of the fact that lunch is over,” Amy played along taking on a serious tone and posture.

“Aw, man… Seriously?” he whined childishly, his recent serious persona from seconds before immediately  forgotten.

“Sorry… boyfriend,” she smiled sheepishly in an attempt to cheer him up which she had to praise herself, as it obviously worked seeing his face instantly lit up.

“Whatever… It was worth losing lunch over, girlfriend.”

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (gene/paul, nc-17) (part 27 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Gene and Paul draw each other, and Gene makes his confession. The sky is falling and we’re getting pretty near the end.

It felt like a shorter lunch than it really was. Paul ate all of his soup, but only half his sandwich, while Gene dove into both with as much relish as usual. In fact, he ate two sandwiches and Paul’s leftovers.

“I hope you didn’t want to do it right after we ate,” Gene said awkwardly. Paul was looking at the plates and silverware, debating cleaning things up. In the end, he just wiped off the counter and stuck all the dishes in the sink.

“Nah. Give it awhile.” He shrugged. “The only trouble is, we’ve pretty much exhausted all our entertainment options at my place.”

Gene smiled.

 “Paul, are you really telling me all you have over here is a T.V., an album collection, and some self-help books?”

“I’ve also got sketchpads. And painting supplies.”

“You still paint?”

Paul shrugged again.

“It’s not great. I don’t have time to really…”

“Let me see.”

Gene was actually a pretty fair artist. He never drew cartoons of his bandmates like Paul was prone to, in a bad mood, but he liked to sketch out comic book characters. He’d never taken any classes that Paul knew of, but he was talented. Talented enough that Paul was a little wary of showing him any of his efforts.

It occurred to him how stupid that was. He was about to fuck this guy—had spent the last four nights in bed with him, even—but somehow showing him some acrylic paintings was making him nervous. Somehow what passed for his body of work was more vulnerable than his actual body.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Cool.”

“C’mon, they’re in the guest bedroom. I’m surprised you didn’t find them earlier.” He’d had aspirations of having his own studio, or at least using one of the rooms for that express purpose, before the reality of nine or ten months on the road at a time hit him. He didn’t even paint enough while he was at home to justify that kind of expense.

Gene followed him over to the guest bedroom. Paul leaned over, dress hiking up as he yanked some cardboard and canvases out from under the bed.

“Here we go.” Instead of holding the pieces up for Gene’s inspection, he just set them out on the bed. He hung back a bit, heart thumping, not quite daring to want to watch Gene look at his work. Actually showing it to Gene felt a little like hearing his own voice on the answering machine, or the echo from a microphone, all the flaws bouncing back at him, magnified a dozen times.

The pieces didn’t have too much meaning behind them, nothing really far out or deep he was trying to convey. Bright streaks of color, some of it in splatters, but most of it in strokes, with no consistent pattern. Purples and pinks tended to dominate. There were points where he’d tried to layer on the colors, fooled around with it, only he’d half-forgotten the proper technique to do it the way he wanted. Most of the art didn’t really have a focal point, except for an odd one-off where he’d tried to paint a sunset while it was still in the air. That one was on a piece of cardboard torn off a refrigerator box. It had maybe a found art, rustic quality to it or something. And the color scheme wasn’t too bad, either, the red sun spilling over a hasty backdrop of orange and pink clouds and trees instead of his neighbors’ houses.

“I like this one a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Superman couldn’t fly with that sun.” Gene picked up the piece of cardboard carefully—too carefully, a piece of paper that had been beneath it starting to flutter towards the floor. Paul snatched it before it got there.

“What’s that one?”

“Oh, it’s only a sketch,” Paul tried to dismiss, but Gene seemed curious enough for him to hold it up for Gene to see. Part of him wanted to hide it back under the bed like a child, for all that it wasn’t particularly incriminating. Just a sketch of his own face. The hair was probably the most accurate part, hopelessly unruly; he didn’t quite think he’d gotten his own nose right, or eyes, but…

“In the makeup.” Gene’s finger touched the edge of the star on his eye.

“Well, sure. It kept me from having to shade much.”

“You look depressed there.” Gene still running his finger down the sketched-out lines of his face made Paul feel stupidly warm, like he was touching him by proxy.

“I don’t look good?”

“I didn’t say that.” A pause. Paul could always recognize when Gene was about to start a critique with him. He’d hesitate, which was kind of funny, because he never did it with anyone else, just plowed through with whatever comment he had. Paul would usually get offended anyway, but he was trying not to, at least for today. “Hey, would you do me a favor?”

Not a critique at all. Paul was vaguely surprised.

“What’re you wanting?”

“Let me try my hand at it.”

“Gene, I’m not letting you go over my drawing—”

“No, no. Let me borrow one of your sketchpads.”

“You wanna draw me right now? What for?” Paul could feel himself tense up slightly as he reached over, gathering up the paintings and stuffing them back under the bed. Despite himself, he was yanking out another pad of drawing paper from there as well. “If you wanted your album photo, all you had to do was check the newspaper.”

“I don’t want your photo. Just you.”

Paul handed the sketchpad over. There was an odd sting somewhere in his heart.

“You can’t want what you’ve already got,” he said quietly. He didn’t wait for Gene to respond, clearing his throat hastily. “I make a terrible art model.”

Gene’s expression, a little unreadable earlier, quirked a little.

“I’ll let you draw me, too.”

“I feel like you’re hard to draw.” But he’d gotten another piece of cardboard to bear down on after tearing off a page of the drawing paper for himself. Then Paul was gathering the rest of the supplies—pencils and gummy erasers—from where they lay in a coffee mug on the nightstand. It wasn’t exactly the most put-together setup. He just wasn’t around enough for any extra effort to be worth it. The guest bedroom’s only real use was as another place to stash his tour and art stuff. He could count the number of times anyone had slept there on one hand. “You don’t… really have one feature that really stands out—”

Gene stuck out his tongue.

“Oh, God, I’m not drawing that. Just your face. C’mon, sit down.” Paul gestured towards the bed, scooting up on it himself, sitting cross-legged on the pillows, dress bunched up. The cardboard and piece of paper were resting on his thighs, one of the pencils in his hand. He gave Gene the mug and sketchpad, scrutinizing Gene’s face. “Let me try first, okay?”

“Go for it.”

He’d never really studied Gene’s face before. That sounded a little stupid, given everything. Gene still wasn’t exactly attractive, though he looked a lot better now than he had when they’d first met. That hadn’t been the draw. It still wasn’t the draw.

Paul didn’t ask Gene to try for any particular expression as he started in, drawing the circle, the center line, mapping out the sections of his face in the half-remembered way he’d learned back in school and trying to adjust from there, only to, as usual, abandon the mapping about two minutes in. Gene’s eyes weren’t quite as dark as his, and his nose was bigger—you can’t hide the hook, Totie had said, back on their stint on the Mike Douglas show, and Paul remembered snickering with everyone else about it backstage. She’d had his number. Gene had struck up a friendship with her after that, excited to get to know another Jewish entertainer. Paul privately hoped he hadn’t banged her in the process.

He was distracting himself. It was hard to do the expression lines around Gene’s mouth without making him look forty-eight instead of nearly twenty-eight, so Paul abandoned all but a light insinuation before skipping over to his hair. He thought he could get that right, at least. Gene’s hair was somewhat coarse, and tended to frizz even worse than Paul’s own did, and it wasn’t as thick. All of the teasing and backcombing and tight ponytails had done a number on it. Paul pursed his lips, trying to approximate the texture with his pencil, and the sheen with his eraser.

“How’s it coming?” Gene asked, after about fifteen minutes. He’d been pretty patient, not shifting around much, even stopping himself the few times he tried to scratch his face.

“I think I did a damn good job on your eyebrows.” Paul turned the sketch around with a slight groan. “Everything else is a little…”

“You made me look really sad.”

Gene wasn’t wrong. Paul hadn’t quite figured out what to do with Gene’s lips when he’d drawn them, so he’d had them sink down a bit. The eyebrows really were pretty good, to his own estimation, and the hair was okay, and he’d at least started with the proper face shape, but—he hadn’t really caught Gene properly. Whatever his essence was, it hadn’t transferred onto the page.

“Frowns are easier to draw. Smiles, you have to get just right, and get the light in the eyes…” Paul shook his head. “Not a lot of room for error, right? And if you mess up, your drawing ends up looking like Norman Bates.”

Gene laughed, shaking his head.

“But you’ve got me looking like myself. It isn’t just the eyebrows. The chin and the mouth are right--”

“But it’s not great, either. I’ll try again later on.” Paul set the drawing down. “You can do me if you want.”

“Interesting choice of words.”

“Oh, shut up.” Paul shifted, suddenly antsy. He’d only ever seen Gene draw his own fanzines and doodle on napkins. He knew Gene wasn’t going to take this as a serious art study, but… but on the same token, letting Gene draw him felt--revealing. Almost too revealing. He wasn’t as bothered by the face Gene was going to draw as what it signified. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what Gene saw when he looked at him. What stood out to him.

If he drew a pair of tits, Paul grimly promised himself he’d keep denying Gene at least until tomorrow.

“Tilt your chin up a bit,” Gene said, and Paul did so. His fingers worried unconsciously at the straps of his dress. Paul waited for more instructions, but they didn’t come. Just the scritch of the pencil against the sketch paper, and the occasional fuzzy sound of the eraser rubbing back and forth on the page. Gene kept such direct eye contact on his face that Paul was getting a bit intimidated.

“You took art in school, right?”

“Only a couple of terms. I liked it, but I wanted to get in all the electives I could.”

“Even weight training?” Paul scooted to the side.

“Your art school had weight training?”

“God, yeah. We even had a football team.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I never said we won anything.” Paul paused. “Do you want me to pose?”

“No. You’re fine like you are.”

“Should I smile?”

Gene looked like he was considering it for a second, and then he shook his head.

“Just relax.”

Paul tried to, but he kept fidgeting. Not getting any direction was making him nervous. He wasn’t gutsy enough to try to look alluring without the makeup as a shield. Gene had stopped talking as he’d gotten more into the drawing, only responding to Paul’s attempts at conversation with a few “yeahs” and “uh-huh”s. He was taking longer than Paul had, too. But he seemed pleased with himself far before he signed the bottom and held it out for Paul to see.

“Here you go.”

Paul was a little stunned.

He was nearly right there on the page. Big dark eyes greeted him. Full lips, slightly parted, revealing a little of his front teeth. High cheekbones. Gene’s portrait of him was more thorough and detailed than Paul’s attempt, stopping at the shoulders, where the dress straps drooped. More attractive than Paul knew he actually was; Gene had, oddly, been kinder about Paul’s nose and jaw than was accurate, but all the same-- he’d captured something of Paul on the page. Some facet. Tenseness or intensity or both. The sketch was clearly of a chick, sure, but-- it was him.

“Gene, this… shit, this is really good.” Part of what impressed him was the self-assured pressure and definition of most of the lines. Paul’s own tended to fade out, like he was mentally erasing them after committing them to the page, but Gene went into it with a much heavier hand overall. The contrast was interesting. “And I thought all you could draw was Batman. You’ve been holding out on me for years.”

Gene shrugged.

“I had someone cute in front of me. That makes all the difference.” He paused, moving to sit beside him, pointing at the sketch. “You’ve got pretty eyes.”

“Since just lately?”

“No. Since always.” Gene seemed to hesitate. “Paul, in a way, you don’t really look all that dif--”

“Peter told me they made me look like a beagle,” Paul stumbled out before Gene could finish. He wasn’t sure why he interrupted that way. Gene snorted, reaching over and draping an arm behind Paul’s shoulders. Paul let him.

“Maybe more like a moppet. You remember those posters.”

“Yeah. Julia had them in her room when we were kids.” But he wasn’t displeased at the comparison, somehow, reaching to put the sketches and supplies on the crowded nightstand, before leaning back against Gene’s arm and shoulder. He could feel Gene start to tense, so Paul turned his head, impulsively, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “One of them was a harlequin or something, I don’t remember.”

“Paul.”

“What?”

“You didn’t let me finish. You don’t look all that different.”

“Come off it.” Paul could feel something cold and odd trickle up his spine, something he was almost afraid of. “I’ve had tits for a week and a half, don’t try to kid me.”

“I’ve been kidding myself.”

“Gene, what’re you talking about--”

“You’re the same as you always were. You’re beautiful.”

Paul sat there stunned. The icy feeling up his spine seemed to melt and dissolve in an instant. He didn’t want it to. He wanted to hold onto it. Use it as something to protect him, something to chase away any hurt, any vulnerability. His face was going florid, and all of a sudden, he couldn’t look directly at Gene, staring instead at the hem of his dress.

“I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep. But I think… I think there might still be something there after we break the curse.” Gene’s hand found one of the shoulder straps on his dress, fixing it back up, though his gaze was still firm on Paul’s face. Completely unwavering. Paul’s heartbeat felt like it could smash straight through diamonds. “I know that’s not enough for--”

“It’s enough.”

“Paul, look--”

“It’s enough.” Paul was surprised at the slow strength starting to rise from his voice with every word, like a newborn foal wobbling to its feet. “Even before all this happened. Any time I’ve ever gotten to have with you is enough.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” He was able to look at Gene now, right in the face. The warmth he’d tried to avoid was blazing inside him. It felt funny, somehow, to feel so sure, so certain, in the face of a maybe, that things would still be all right, one way or another. It felt like the bulk of the burden, the fear, was really, truly beginning to dissolve. “Gene, I…”

He couldn’t say it. Gene was waiting on it, face so near his own he could feel his breath. He kissed him instead, reaching his arms around him half-blindly, clenching tight. Paul was panting as soon as Gene broke the kiss, pressing another and another against his cheek and chin and throat, climbing into his lap as though he belonged there, and maybe, for just a little while, he did.

Gene was so warm, so unbelievably warm. Paul could swear he could feel Gene’s own pounding heartbeat against his. His breaths were coming only a little bit better than Paul’s were, his dark eyes dilated. Gene’s mouth was back on his before Paul could think clearly, needy and wanting, and it was all Paul could do to pull back and manage one last request.

“Hey. Before we-- do you think you could take me back to o-- my bedroom?”

Gene had him gathered up in his arms in seconds. Paul held tight, pressing his face against Gene’s shirt for all of the minute it took to cross from one room to the next, taking in his scent as he finally dared to hope.

[cannibalisticapple]

So around a week or two ago I sent an anonymous ask to @corndog-patrol suggesting Villain Mic finding a Cat!Shouta. When I saw it on my phone in the car, I had to stop myself from reading until I could get home and look at it in full on my computer. It has been so much better than I could have ever imagined.

Seeing all the doodles and artwork so far has been a HUGE inspiration for me, and I ended up writing this over the past week. Because I am physically incapable of writing anything short, it kinda ballooned to almost 8k words, partially because I ended up adding to it as more art was posted. The majority of it was written before the bowtie pic though, including the opening scene. (Fun fact: I originally called Shouta “Pepper”.)

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, well, anything to Tumblr, so apologies for any weird formatting issues! And thanks again to @corndog-patrol for making such a great Villain Mic AU! Anyways, enjoy!

The Adventures of Puddles

           Given his known fondness for cats, most of Shouta’s friends and colleagues often teased him about how getting hit by a Quirk that turned him into a cat would be a dream come true for him.

           They were wrong.

           The hero-turned-feline felt thoroughly irritated as he loped down the street, the heavy downpour soaking him thoroughly and weighing down his thick black fur with water. He’d been turned into a cat while heading to UA just that evening, and since then he’d been rather unhappy. Nemuri had laughed her head off when she found him halfway to her apartment with his goggles around his neck and his capture weapon dragging along the ground behind him, which really hadn’t helped much.

           Considering he’d been found by Nemuri relatively fast, he should be safe and dry right now, but then Nemuri had taken him to UA. Logically it made sense of course, Shouta would be safe there and he’d have easy access to a support network to find a way to reverse the transformation. Unfortunately, he hadn’t accounted for how the kids would react. One of them had sighted Nemuri carrying him inside, and Nemuri had no hesitation dumping him on the student with a sadistic grin while she went to meet with the other staff.

           After spending an hour being assaulted by his students cooing over him and ruffling him from twenty different directions at once (literally), he’d desperately craved some space and alone time. The sight of Snipe and Cementoss sneaking around with cameras and phones ready, clearly intending to take photos of his ordeal, had been the last push he needed to jump the wall and get away from UA for a bit. He knew the area well enough, he should be safe to walk around a couple hours even as a cat. Key word: should.

           It was just his luck he’d get chased by someone’s dog for what must have been half a mile, ending with him lost in an only vaguely familiar part of town. His attempts to find his way back had only succeeded in making him more lost over the ensuing hours, the vaguely familiar scenery giving way to buildings he absolutely did not recognize. And of course, it also had to start raining shortly after that.

           Right now, he just wanted to get out of the heavy rain. He was wet, cold, tired, and felt sore in ways he didn’t even know possible until being turned into a cat. Turns out having your body undergo a radical physical transformation tended to put some stress on muscles and preexisting injuries. Go figure. At least his dry eye hadn’t seemed to transfer over, but that didn’t make him any less stressed.

           The feeling only amplified when he stepped in a puddle and proceeded to plummet into it with a startled yowl, water splashing everywhere. Of course this sidewalk would have a giant hole in it that flooded with water and turned into a miniature, cat-sized bath. The hole was deep enough his head barely stuck above the water, the chilly temperature making him shudder. He scrabbled at the edges with an annoyed growl, trying to pull himself out.

           “Hey, you okay little buddy?” The voice behind him made him freeze, the fur on his back standing on end. Shit. He knew that voice. His head whipped around to see a man crouching behind him, and while he wasn’t wearing his costume, Shouta couldn’t think of anyone else with a loud voice who also sported a stupid mustache like that. This had to be Present Mic.

           Great, just great, he thought sarcastically. For some odd reason the idiot wasn’t wearing a raincoat in this weather, his long blond hair partially pulled into a bun with the loose strands plastered to his face and shoulders by the rain. How the guy could even see with all those water droplets on his glasses was beyond Shouta. “Oh man, I always said someone was gonna fall into this stupid thing. Come on, let’s get you out.”

           Shouta silently glowered at the villain as he reached out to him but made no effort to push him away. Trying to get a good grip on the pavement was tricky with the rain making everything so slippery. Maybe if he could figure out how to get his claws to pop out, but he’d yet to figure out a lot of his new form’s functions. Frankly, the fact he could walk at all was a miracle considering he’d never used a four-legged body before.

           So the sulking cat allowed the blond villain to carefully slip his hands around Shouta’s... armpits? Well, his hands went between around the edges of his front legs and shoulders, so, close enough—and pull him out of the hole. Rather than put him down like he expected though, Mic shifted his hold to carry the grumpy feline, turning to walk to a nearby apartment building. “Come on, let’s get you inside so we can dry you off. My place is just over there!”

           ...And now Mic was taking him to his apartment. Crap. Shouta naturally began to struggle, wanting to get the hell back to UA instead, but Mic had a surprisingly strong grip. In the end he gave up and just sulked in the villain’s arms with a grumpy scowl as the blond draped a towel over him, resigned to his fate. At least he was out of the rain.

           “Oh man, you’re lucky I found you!” Mic commented, looking down at him with a concerned frown. “A lil’ fella like yourself could drown in all that rain!” He switched on the light switch by the door, illuminating one of the most rundown and shabby apartments Shouta had ever seen. And considering his meager salary as an underground hero, he’d seen a lot of crummy places while apartment hunting. “You’ll be safe here, just make yourself at home you little cutie!”

           Shouta just silently scowled at his current predicament. He just wanted to get warm and dry and take a nice, long nap until this stupid Quirk wore off. (It better wear off.)

           The Quirk did not wear off.

             Morning found Shouta still very much a feline, much to his ire. He woke up well before Mic, the blond snoozing away in his bedroom (Shouta had chosen to sleep on the couch, which had literal patches sewn on it, he’d never seen that outside cartoons), and Shouta felt no small amount of irritation at the fact he still had this stupid feline body. At least he was warm and dry now. That didn’t make him any happier about the situation though.

           A glance at the bathroom mirror had revealed himself to be particularly mangy and stocky rather than sleek and agile-looking like most cats. His long hair had turned into thick, shaggy fur, the black coloration adding an air of dirtiness as opposed to the soft and fluffy feeling exuded by Mic’s actual cat. Sprinkles, if the name written on the food bowl was accurate.

             Speaking of the food bowl, Mic was now beaming down at Shouta as he sat next to the now-full bowl. “Come on, it’s safe to eat!” Mic goaded—nay, practically pleaded with him, his mouth pulled into a pout as he looked down at Shouta. “You have to be hungry, little guy!”

             Shouta just glowered at him, ignoring the bowl. Nope. Not gonna eat that. He might be a cat for now (seriously this stupid thing better wear off on its own), but he was NOT going to eat cat food.

             Mic sighed, seeming to accept the fact as he turned to begin rifling through the cabinet. Good, looks like he got the picture and was looking for something else to feed him. “It’s the bowl, right?” he muttered. Wait, what? Mic turned around holding a cracked plastic soup bowl, dumping another scoop of kitty kibble into it before setting it next to Shouta. “There! This bowl doesn’t smell like Sprinkles, so it should be good, right?”

             He beamed down at Shouta, clearly proud of his understanding of cats. Shouta just stared at him blandly, making no move to touch it, and Mic soon deflated. “Eh, you’ll get hungry try it eventually,” he muttered, turning away with a sigh and trudging off to his bedroom. Shouta watched him leave with a blank face, still pointedly ignoring the bowl of cat food.

             As he sat there Sprinkles sauntered over and plopped down on the floor next to him, blinking her large eyes at him as she studied him curiously. Normally, Shouta would be happy to be in the presence of a cat, especially one who seemed as sweet and friendly as Sprinkles. Seeing as he himself was currently a cat, however, he found his joy slightly diminished. He couldn’t exactly pet her with paws, which sucked since her fluffy white fur looked particularly soft and silky.

             For now, he settled for patting her leg with his paw to try to satiate the urge. Sadly, it did not have the same effect as running his fingers through her fur. He sulked up until he heard a gasp, and turned to see Mic staring at him with sparkly eyes from the door to his bedroom. He bounced over with a giant grin and bent down next to them. “So adorable!” he gushed, rubbing Shouta’s head affectionately.

             At this point, Shouta’s broody mood outweighed the urge to claw off his hand.

             “So, I already have Sprinkles,” Mic mused aloud, “So what do you think of the name... Pickles?”

             Scratch that. Shouta proceeded to do so literally, highly satisfied by the startled and pained yelp from the blond.

             “Ow! Ow! Okay, not Pickles! Ouch, that really hurts!”

              Day two of being a cat. Shouta was now covered in clothes while Mic loudly rooted through his dresser.

             “Where is that shirt?” Mic grumbled to himself, tossing a pair of jeans over his shoulder. Why he apparently stored pants and shirts in the same drawers, Shouta had no idea. Why did a person need this many clothes? Granted, he barely bothered with more than the minimal amount needed himself. But still.

             Also, what was that guy even aiming at? Shouta was sitting in the doorway, not even fully in the room!

             Mic made a sound of triumph as he held up a shirt in an eye-searing chartreuse, on the more yellow end of the spectrum. A fact Shouta knew only because he’d spent an hour arguing with one of his students over demanding to use the color in their costume two years ago. Why. Why did anyone have clothing in that shade.

             Mic turned around with a grin, but his smile quickly faded to a look of confusion. “Puddles? Puddles, where are you?” Shouta’s eye twitched, still displeased with the name (seriously, what was with this guy’s preoccupation with English words?), but it beat literally every other suggestion the villain had. Even if he didn’t like the whole reminder of being pulled out of a puddle.

             He gave a displeased mrow and Mic blinked and bent down next to the discarded pile of clothes, lifting up a pants leg to see Shouta’s eyes glowering up at him. “Oh, there you are, you silly baby!” Shouta glared at him, willing all his disdain to show through his eyes. Mic was unfazed. “Aw, geez, now I need to wash the hair off this stuff!” Mic playfully scolded as he started picking up the clothes.

             You literally threw it on me, Shouta thought silently. You have no one to blame but yourself for this. He waited patiently for Mic to lift the clothes off him, depositing them on his bed to be washed later. Shouta took silent pleasure in the glimpse of black hairs stuck to them.

             Mic pulled on the eye-searing shirt while Shouta continued to sit and brood, chattering all the while. “Man, I am so stoked to see this band tonight! I feel kinda bad leaving you alone here all day when you’re still getting used to the place, but you’ll have Sprinkles to keep you company so you shouldn’t be too lonely!” He grabbed what Shouta presumed to be his work uniform and folded the shirt over his arm, giving Shouta a final pet as he strode past him. Shouta remained in place, pointedly ignoring him as he continued to sulk and brood.

             Approximately ten seconds later Mic returned, looking notably dejected. “Your bowl is still full,” he said glumly. “Are you seriously on some sort of hunger strike?” Shouta made a rumbling noise halfway between a meow and a grumble, and Mic groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “C’mon, Puddles, I’m on a limited budget here! Do I need to steal expensive food for you?”

             Shouta responded with a pointed glare. He would NOT condone Mic stealing cat food for him. As a hero, he couldn’t allow even the most trivial of crimes, even if they had good intentions behind them. Plus, he had a feeling the blond would try feeding him a wet canned food next, and the thought of the slimy-looking can-shaped meat chunk just made him want to shudder.

             (He pointedly ignored the fact he stole one of the pieces of chicken from Mic’s dinner last night when the blond wasn’t looking. He was a cat right now, cats did not need to obey any laws, and snagging food from someone’s plate wasn’t exactly illegal anyway.)

             “I still have that concert tonight so it’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” Mic sighed, and then nodded to himself with a look of renewed resolve. “I can’t let you starve though! We’ll have to improvise for now!” He marched off to the kitchen, and Shouta followed silently, letting himself feel a glimmer of hope. That hope was soon rewarded when he found Mic rooting through the fridge, pulling out a can of sardines.

             Not my first choice but I’ll take it. Shouta trotted over as Mic put it on a paper plate, hopping onto the counter to begin chowing down before he could even pick up the plate. Relief visibly flooded Mic’s face as he ate, his shoulders slumping and a breath of air escaping him. “Oh thank goodness, I was getting worried there! Kinda picky for a stray though, aren’tcha?” Shouta just rumbled in the back of his throat, too busy eating to respond otherwise.

             “Welp, I gotta run if I want to get to work on time,” Mic said, glancing at the clock. “See you later, cool cats! Sprinkles, make sure Puddles doesn’t get into trouble while I’m gone!” The white cat meowed in response, and with a jaunty wave Mic departed, the click of the door shutting and locking ringing particularly heavily in the ensuing silence. Shouta’s head snapped up, eyes locking on the door.

             Okay, he’s finally gone. Time to see if I can find an escape route. Shouta had no intention of staying here absolutely longer than necessary; the sooner he found someone he knew, the better. Finishing off the sardines, he leaped off the counter and made his way to the door, determined to get out.

             Ten minutes of trying to open it later, he found his resolve faltering though. Cat paws just weren’t good for turning round doorknobs, even with the advantage of knowing how they worked. And that didn’t even account for trying to just reach it. There were no convenient surfaces near the handle to stand on, so he spent most of those ten minutes just hopping up and down trying to reach it.

             As he found himself clinging to the knob with all four limbs trying desperately not to slide off, he finally conceded this probably wouldn’t work.

             Letting himself fall to the ground, he proceeded to sullenly slink to the rest of the apartment to search for an alternate route. He’d neglected to explore the apartment the previous day beyond the bathroom and the main living space, as he’d rather not look around a villain’s place too much. Beyond the whole “don’t intend to stay more than a day” thing, he didn’t really feel keen on the “invasion of privacy” thing. The man might be technically a villain, but honestly, Shouta viewed him as more of a nuisance than dangerous.

             After checking the window in the living room and confirming it would be even more of a hassle to open than the front door, he reluctantly turned his attention to the bedroom. The door was half-closed, and he felt apprehensive as he crept towards it because, again, invasion of privacy. He’d only sat outside the door that morning because Mic was being noisy and he was curious. He hadn’t been able to see a window then, but there could be one on the wall outside his view, and if he got lucky it would be open.  So he nudged open the door, looking around, and—

             ............

             That was a lot of Eraserhead merchandise.

             Shouta just stared at the collection of posters and other objects in the corner where two dressers met, as if staring would make it disappear or somehow become... something else. Anything else. But nope, it all stayed in place, from the folded shirt to the homemade banner with ‘ERASERHEAD’ written in large English letters.

             I don’t even HAVE merchandise. What the actual hell. Those looked like replicas of his capture weapon and goggles, though the color was slightly off, and... Was that a plushie of him? Hopping onto one of the dressers and prodding at the small doll curiously, he confirmed it was, indeed, a hand-made plushie of him.

              Mic returned several hours later to Sprinkles pawing at Shouta as he hid under the couch. Mic, naturally, just assumed Shouta was spooked and proceeded to spend about half an hour trying to coax him out. Shouta pointedly ignored his cooing and just remained curled up in the safe embrace of the darkness, wishing desperately he could unsee what he had seen.

              Day three of being a cat. Shouta had finally emerged from his spot under the couch to dine on more sardines, having resumed his usual cool demeanor after the initial shock and embarrassment at seeing the shrine. What shrine? Shouta saw absolutely no hand-made plushies or other merchandise of himself, Mic’s room was absolutely normal. Well, as normal as a bedroom belonging to Present Mic could be.

             More important than nonexistent merchandise, he was starting to wonder if the Quirk had a time limit. Was he doomed to be forever a cat? No, no, he’d give it a week before he started to panic. A lot of long-lasting Quirks had a week-long time limit, there was no reason to assume it didn’t have a limit. No need to freak out just yet—

             What was that spot?

             Shouta froze, transfixed by a yellowish dot moving on the floor next to him. Gaze following it intently, he tentatively slapped his paw over it, only for it to appear on top of it. He blinked in mild surprise, and when he withdrew his paw the spot didn’t move with it instead, remaining in the exact place on the floor.

             Had he been human he would have frowned at it, so for now he settled for squinting. What is this thing? After a few seconds the weird spot moved away and bounced in a small circle along the tile floor. Eyes narrowing, he slowly crept towards it and pounced again, only for it to once more appear atop his paw.

             Another confused blink, and he quickly retreated, circling it warily. He slowly reached out to tap it, watching the spot overlap with his dark fur before quickly withdrawing his paw. Nearby he heard Mic give a soft giggle, which he chose to ignore as he inspected  the spot more thoroughly. Obviously it wasn’t a bug, or even anything physical.

             Is it a light? he thought. It was the most reasonable explanation. But what kind of yellow light is that small and able to move like that? The only light he could think of were—wait.

             Shouta abruptly froze as the spot zoomed away, just staring into space as gears clicked into place in his mind.

             Did I seriously fall for a laser pointer? he thought in disbelief. Another soft giggle from Mic drew his attention to the blond, and he confirmed his suspicion instantly upon seeing him pointing a pen-like device towards the wall. His left hand pressed against his mouth as he watched the two cats from a distance, an amused smile peeking through his fingers.

             I fell for a laser pointer, Shouta mentally reiterated in mild shock.

             In his defense, his new eyes had a more limited range of color so he couldn’t exactly tell the light was red. Had he been able to see its color, he would’ve made the connection right away. Somehow, his newfound red-green colorblindness had slipped his mind with everything else going on. Come to think of it, that hideous shirt Mic wore yesterday might not actually be that hideous. Huh.

           As Shouta stared at him Mic’s smile faded, his hand lowering from his mouth as he frowned. He looked kind of... disappointed? Shouta blinked, briefly confused by the change in expression, until he saw the laser zoom past his paws again. Oh. Mic was still trying to play with him. Yeah, Shouta got pretty dejected too when his own cat lost interest.

             As he watched Mic’s shoulders slump he felt a twinge of guilt, and decided to take pity on the man. He abruptly spun and pounced onto the light, the laser bouncing wildly as Mic startled. As the laser swerved away and Shouta chased after it, he snuck a glance at Mic to find him grinning brilliantly, his eyes sparkling. That looked much better than the sad look he’d been sporting.

             Shouta was only doing this because he was bored. Cats had very limited options for mental stimulation, it was only logical to take advantage of a distraction when he had the chance. The fact it made Mic happy had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

              Day four of being a cat.

             Shouta was learning more about Mic than he ever wanted to, and not just because he was forced to inhabit the same space as the man. No, Mic had apparently decided that cats made perfect receptacles for venting.

             Shouta felt ready for a villain to burst through the wall and end his misery now as Mic laid on his bed, venting to him in a manner eerily reminiscent a teenage girl. The comparison was more apt than Shouta expected actually, given the man’s obsession with appearances and melodramatic tendencies in his villain persona. He kind of reminded him of an unholy fusion of Ashido and Jirou.

             So far he’d heard everything. Rants about the awful music selection played at the convenience store on the way to his job. The atrocious battery life of his cell phone and the hassle of carrying a charger everywhere. The apartment manager who always drew out and loudly over-enunciated her words after she first noticed his hearing aids, making it even harder to understand her (actually a valid grievance, Shouta admitted).

             And Shouta just sat there with a grumpy look, trying to convey his utter lack of interest through his sour glare. Part of him contemplated just leaving, but he had actually been quite comfortable sitting on this pillow before Mic came in and flopped onto the bed with an exasperated, “You won’t believe the day I’ve had!” Aside from the noise, this pillow was still quite comfortable, much moreso than the couch, which was worn enough he could feel the springs creak under his weight. So he just tried to ignore the venting.

             It was not as easy as he hoped.

             “—And then there’s my shitty job—god I hate that place!” the blond muttered, poking Shouta’s ear. His ear twitched away from the touch, just squinting at him with disdain. You seem to hate a lot of places, he thought sarcastically. “They treat me like shit!” Most “villains” would try destroy a place if they really hated it that much.

             “It’s all just so horrible!” the blond finished with a dramatic groan, while Shouta watched on with absolutely no sympathy. Screw this, the couch is lumpy but at least it’s quiet there. He was about to get up and leap away when the blond perked up, a bright smile lighting up his face. “But y’know what makes everything better?”

             No, what? Shouta thought sarcastically, knowing he’d find out either way.

             “Eraserhead!” Wait what? Shouta tensed at the mention of his name, staring wide-eyed and starting to feel rising panic as Mic began gushing about him. “Seeing him always makes me so much happier!” Okay, he really should have seen this coming, since the villain was pretty overt about his romantic intentions towards Shouta in... literally every encounter they had. “He’s my boyfriend y’know? Sooo cute!” Wait, wait, what—no, back up!! We’re not dating— “He kicks my ass a lot but only ’cuz that’s his job!”

             Don’t say it like! That makes it sound like an abusive relationship!! A distressed hiss nearly escaped Shouta, but it was silenced by the all-consuming panic and embarrassment that had gripped him. Mic had a dreamy-looking smile on his face, his eyes almost glittering as he loudly proclaimed, “I love him a lot!”

             Oh my god. He really IS a teenage girl. Shouta felt like he was watching a disaster movie play out in real time, and in a way he was. The disaster that was Mic’s delusional take of their relationship. Did this idiot even understand how healthy relationships worked!? Why do you even love me so much!?

             Maybe his feline features were more expressive than he thought, or maybe Mic was just in a mood to gush over him, because the blond gave a dreamy sigh and proceeded to elaborate.

             “Man, you should see him in action. He’s so graceful and agile, like a cat.” More literally than you know right now, Shouta thought sullenly. “And he totally doesn’t back down even if the other guy’s, like, ten times his size!” That would be a sixty-foot-tall person, Mic. That would be unrealistic and just makes me sound reckless. “And he manages to take them down with nothing but his skills and his awesome scarf!” I wish I could take down a sixty-foot-tall giant with just that.

             “And plus, he totally punched a reporter in the face this one time!” Mic continued, and that one admittedly caught Shouta’s attention. Usually people highlighted that incident as a bad one, not a good quality. “It’s just, there’s so many heroes out there who only seem to care about the press, y’know?

             “Don’t get me wrong, I love big and flashy stunts as much as the next guy—I mean, as long as I’m not, you know, actually facing All Might myself, haha, oh thank god he’s retired now and that won’t ever happen—but some of them just feel... hollow.” Mic waved his hand with a vague frown. muttering. “Like, they do it more for the cameras than a feeling of doing good, I guess?

             “But Eraserhead,” he breathed with a small smile, rolling onto his side to gaze at the totally nonexistent shrine as he rambled, “He doesn’t care about that stuff. He’s willing to put his life on the line to save everyone! Hell, that poster of him over there” which does not exist “doesn’t show it, but he has this big scar under his eye. Like this, see?”

             He twisted his torso to face Shouta again and traced a crescent-shaped line under his right eye, mirroring the one currently visible on Shouta’s face at that very moment, seriously how dense could a guy be!? “And you know how he got it?” Mic asked, and yes, he did. It was hard to forget having his face slammed into the pavement and ground against it by a Noumu while his students were watching nearby—

             “He got it protecting his students, barely even a full week after meeting them.”

             The sheer reverence in Mic’s voice silenced any snarky internal commentary, Shouta just blinking slowly. Any lingering traces of the dopey smile had faded by this point, replaced by a more serious look he rarely saw on the blond. “Eraserhead almost died then. I heard he was lucky to even still be able to see. I sent him a card of course, and took over his patrol route for him until he got better,” wait, was THAT why there wasn’t a massive spike in crime while he was gone, “but man, it was such a close call...”

             He sighed, letting his head flop back onto the mattress as he stared into space. “It’s just... He went to work expecting a normal day, and instead he ended up facing a giant ambush of, like, two dozen guys or more. And he just went in anyway, knowing he’d probably die. And that—that takes a lot of guts. Guts, and heart.”

             Shouta remained silent, just... staring at him. Slowly he slumped atop the pillow and rolled onto his side, staring into space. He had a lot to think about now.

              Night four of being a cat. Shouta was currently in Mic’s bed. Repeat: Shouta was currently in Mic’s bed.

             Don’t move, he silently commanded himself, staring wide-eyed into the darkness as he remained perfectly still. At some point after listening to Mic confess his undying love he’d fallen asleep, and apparently Mic had taken it as invitation to use him as a teddy bear. The sleeping blond had one arm tossed over Shouta essentially trapping him in place, the hero-turned-feline pressed close to his front. By “close”, he meant he could feel Mic’s breaths tickle the fur on his ears, feel his steady heartbeat against his back.

             Had he been human Shouta would probably be blushing right now. Actually, he might still be doing so underneath the thick fur judging by how warm his face felt. This was the most intimately close he’d gotten to another person in... well, ever. Aizawa Shouta was not a tactile person by any means. ...But even with his limited experience he’d never been this physically close to someone.

             They were sharing a pillow, for crying out loud!

             Part of him wanted to worm his way out and abscond to the couch, pretending this never happened, but... at the same time, he didn’t really want to move. Mic’s body felt so warm. The arm draped over Shouta didn’t feel heavy, but instead oddly comforting. The rhythm of Mic’s heartbeat and the steady rising and falling of his chest gently pushed against his back, providing a silent lullaby that put him strangely at ease.

             This was so illogical. Mic was a villain—well, more of a public nuisance, but still—Shouta shouldn’t feel so safe around him. But something about being pressed so close to the blond, half-covered by the blankets and with his head laying against the surprisingly soft pillow, just filled him with an odd sense of contentment.

             He could feel Mic shift in his sleep, unconsciously pulling Shouta just a little bit closer. “Soft,” he mumbled, the word slurred and quiet, barely recognizable, yet still full of a deep fondness that tugged at Shouta’s heart. He exhaled slowly before closing his eyes, willing the tension to fade from his body as he curled a little closer to Mic.

             Just one night won’t be too bad. I just need to make sure he never finds out I’m the cat.

              Day five of being a cat. Shouta took back anything nice he ever said about Mic.

             “How do you like your new bowtie Puddles?” Mic asked enthusiastically, hugging a very unenthusiastic Shouta with a giant grin.

             “Mow,” he replied dejectedly. This is the worst thing I’ve had to endure in my entire life.

             “I agree!” Mic proclaimed cheerfully.

             “Mow.” No, you don’t, or you wouldn’t be doing this to me.

             Now that he was aware of his current colorblindness, Shouta had no idea what the bow tie actually looked like, but he didn’t think any color scheme could make it look less tacky. It had polka dots. Nemuri might claim Shouta had a horrific fashion sense (not that he cared enough to agree or disagree), but even he acknowledged that a polka dot bowtie was the epitome of stupid looking.

             Sprinkles mewed loudly as she pawed at Mic’s leg, blinking up at them with those large green eyes of hers. Similar to Shouta, she also wore a bowtie, this one a sparkly sequined thing that might be either green or pink. Unlike him, Mic positioned it so the bow was on the back of her neck, which Shouta found to be a perfectly practical and overall lovely choice for a female cat. Clearly she was used to being dressed up, as she made no fuss over it.

             “What’s that, Sprinkles?” Mic asked, bending down and finally releasing Shouta from his hold. Shouta promptly began tugging at the bowtie with his paw, silently cursing his lack of opposable thumbs to aid in removing it. His tiny toes couldn’t get a good enough grip to do anything but pat it, much to his dismay.

             While he sulked over that Mic held out his arms, Sprinkles jumping into his hold without further prompting. As she did her poofy tail coincidentally whacked Shouta in the face, making him jolt and sneeze. He shot her a sour look, while Mic just laughed as he swept her up and hugged her to his chest. “Hey, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he accused playfully. The white feline meowed and bumped her head against his chin, eyes sliding shut as she purred.

             The accusation made Shouta’s eyes narrow, his glare growing harsher. Mic snickered at his expression before turning his attention back to Sprinkles, his grin softening to something more gentle and fond. “I get what you’re doing. You’re just jealous of all the attention I’m giving Puddles, aren’t you?” He adjusted his grip to scratch her chin and Sprinkles seemed to melt in his arms at the attention, a look of pure bliss on her face. “But you don’t need to be jealous. You’re still my adorable sweetheart.”

             As he watched the pair Shouta felt his ire melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment. The love and adoration in Mic’s face as he gazed down upon Sprinkles was nothing but genuine, the relaxed slump to her body an indication of total trust and happiness.

             A guy who cares about cats that much can’t be that bad, he thought to himself quietly.

             Half an hour later, he rescinded that thought when Mic posed with him and Sprinkles, all three wearing matching hats and bowties as he tried to angle his phone for a good selfie. He silently vowed to get his paws on that phone and dump it in the toilet as soon as he had the chance.

              Day six of being a cat.

             Mic had returned from his job a few minutes prior, which was just as well since Shouta had unfortunately confirmed that operating a laser pointer without thumbs was hard. He had a feeling Sprinkles had been more frustrated by the erratic movement and blinking of the dot than usual during his attempts to play with her. At some point she’d clocked onto Shouta as being the source of her frustration, because she had decided to ignore the laser in favor of jumping at him.

             “Wow, you two did a lot of roughhousing today, huh?” Mic asked as he sat on the floor with Sprinkles in his lap, running a brush through her fur. Strands of black had gotten mixed into her otherwise pristine white coat, the usually fluffy and silky texture more ruffled and messy from their small wrestling match. Shouta himself looked no better; he could see white furs spot his paws, almost seeming to glow against his own pitch black coat.

             He had taken refuge atop a cabinet in the far corner to get away from Sprinkles, and now took advantage of his vantage point to just... observe them. Mic clearly brushed Sprinkles often judging by her reaction. She purred contently as he gently dragged the brush along her head, her ears briefly flattening beneath the bristles before popping back into their usual perky position. She leaned into the strokes, arching her back slightly while her cheek rubbed against his chest.

             The sheer love in Mic’s expression was visible to anyone, his smile so much softer than Shouta ever thought the loud and hyper man to be capable of. Plucking a few lingering strands of black fur, he set the brush down and lightly nudged her off his lap. Sprinkles hopped off his lap and strutted away, the blond watching with obvious fondness.

             Those warm green eyes turned to Shouta, making him stiffen. “Okay, your turn,” he said, patting his lap invitingly. When Shouta didn’t move he got up and walked over, stopping next to the cabinet. “Come on, time to get down.”

             “...Mrow,” Shouta responded in a surprisingly meek way. I would, but I’m kinda stuck, he thought sheepishly. Climbing the cabinet had been one thing, but now that he was on top of it... well, the drop to the floor looked much higher than he thought.

             This is so illogical, he thought sulkily. As a human he’d made plenty of larger jumps (with the support of his capture weapon of course), but as a cat the drop seemed a lot bigger. He also lacked the fine-tuned reflexes and familiarity with his body he’d developed from years of training with it, so he felt considerably less confident about his ability to safely jump from such a height without hurting himself in some way.

             Mic seemed to pick up on his unease, a small frown settling on his face. “Hey, Puddles, are you nervous?” he asked. “Here, come on, just hop on down. I’ll catch you, okay?” He held out his arms, and Shouta blinked, slow and catlike. Seriously? He was asking a cat to jump into his arms? The rational part of him scoffed, since he knew a normal cat wouldn’t be able to understand such a thing.

             But... the less rational, cat-loving part of him, understood. How many times had he tried to coax a cat to jump down from a branch, to leap right into his open arms, logic be damned? Seeing that earnest look on the blond’s face, the encouraging little smile silently asking him to trust him... It made something feel content in Shouta’s chest.

             And so, he jumped.

             His jump was clumsy and awkward, his mobility just as hindered by his lack of familiarity with this body as he suspected. One of his hind paws ended up catching on the edge of the cabinet, turning a would-be graceful leap into a fumbling tumble. Mic shot forward and caught him, the drop to his arms nowhere near as long as it would be to the floor.

             Shouta blinked dumbly as he stared up at the blond, cradled almost like an infant. He had a perfect view of the blond’s smile, relief clear in his face. “Oof! Almost slipped there! Don’t worry though, I got ya buddy.” He carried Shouta over to where he’d left the brush and sat on the floor, rolling Shouta onto his stomach with the feline settled in his lap. He picked up the brush and pulled off the fur already caught in the bristles before he began running it through Shouta’s fur, the strokes light and gentle.

             Shouta tensed, memories of painful attempts to brush his own hair flashing through his mind. Tugging his brush through particularly bad knots sometimes felt just as painful as getting slammed into the wall by a villain, and he didn’t look forward to feeling it all over his body. To his surprise the strokes were light and gentle though, each one strangely soothing, and—dare he say it... nice.

           He practically melted in Mic’s lap as the bristles stroked through his thick fur, Mic using his free hand to pluck individual white furs that the brush couldn’t capture. “I bet you’ve never been brushed before, have you?” he mused aloud. “You look like you’ve lived your whole life on the streets, you poor thing. Don’t worry though, those days are over.”

             Shouta gave a throaty hum, his eyelids sliding shut. It was exactly the kind of thing he had told his own cat when he’d first brought her home, some distant part of his mind noted. He didn’t know how much time passed with Mic brushing him, his mind slipping into a content haze.

             It felt like all too soon Mic finished, setting the brush down. He didn’t nudge Shouta off just yet like he did with Sprinkles though, instead pulling Shouta into a small hug. The mellow haze which had consumed his senses lifted slightly at that, a single golden eye peeking open as he felt the blond scratch his ear.

             “Hard to believe it’s been a little under a week since I found you.” Mic had a gentle smile as he stared down at Shouta, his eyes soft and lidded. “It already feels like you’ve been part of the family a lot longer.” His hand fell away from Shouta’s head, joining his other arm to wrap around him in a slightly tighter hug. “It might be silly, but I’m glad you’re here—it gets quite lonely at times. Pathetic, I know.”

             The blond gave a self-deprecating chuckle while Shouta just sat in his arms, staring forward blankly. Right now, he could feel nothing but pure love radiating from Mic, his genuine and powerful fondness for what he believed to be a normal cat quite evident despite only knowing “Puddles” for less than a week. And hearing him call himself pathetic so easily didn’t sit right with Shouta.

             Before he knew it he’d twisted in Mic’s hold and bumped his head against the man’s chest, purring lowly as he rubbed his head against him. He could feel the blond perk up, sitting a little straighter. “Oh! You’re a cuddly kitty!”

             Shouta just kept purring, eyes sliding shut as he felt the blond gently scratch his back.

             This, he thought distantly, was contentment. This was happiness. Just being in the arms of someone who cared about you, and showing you cared about them back, even if just a little.

             Maybe being stuck as a cat wasn’t so bad after all.

              Morning seven found Shouta rousing to consciousness slowly, his eyes feeling crusted shut and refusing to open. His muscles felt notably more sore than they had the past week, making him groan lowly and curl up a little tighter. Ugh, stupid cat body... He forced his eyes to blink open, and for a moment he was confused.

             Doesn’t the room seem a bit... brighter? He frowned, squinting blearily at the shrine (not a shrine, what shrine, those were just random posters of a random guy who happened to resemble him) which seemed a bit more colorful than he remembered. The sand crusting his eyes made it hard to focus, and he reached a hand to rub it away before pausing. Wait a minute, is my hand human?

             Behind him Hizashi slowly stirred to consciousness as the mattress shifted, a distant part of his mind registering it dip heavily to the side. A sleepy little moan slipped past his lips, barely audible to even the keenest ears, his eyes drowsily fluttering open to see something dark and furry in front of his face.

             Puddles? he thought hazily, but as his vision came into focus his still-drowsy mind quickly registered that it was not his feline. No, it was the back of a human head, a man sitting up on the other side of his bed. A flash of peach near the blankets drew his eyes to an arm with a starburst-shaped scar on the elbow, the blanket falling slightly as the man lifted his torso and wait his back was totally bare, holy shit this guy’s totally naked and he’s in my bed. Any lingering drowsiness vanished instantly as he bolted upright.

             “What the fuck!?” Hizashi screamed as he bolted upright, Quirk unconsciously activating in his shock.

           Shouta flinched and sat straight up, his hair whipping around his face in the voice-fueled blast of wind as he gripped the blanket against his chest. Well, the Quirk finally wore off at least. Okay, he doesn’t have his glasses yet. Hopefully he won’t be able to recognize you and you can just run before he gets them—

              “Wait, wha—ERASERHEAD!?”

             So much for that. As Mic’s voice devolved into a high-pitched squeak of horror Shouta rubbed at his eyes with a quiet groan, doing his best to ignore the sudden silence that fell over the room. After a few seconds past he turned his head slightly to look at the blond, finding him staring at him with an ashen look of shock and disbelief, mouth open but for once producing absolutely no noise. Only took waking up next to me in bed to finally get him to shut up.

             “So,” Shouta said awkwardly. “Got any pants I could borrow?”

[tenglows]

Could I request # 8 and enemies to lovers with fluff with Ten from the prompts? Thank you💛 Tried to send one yday, but i think it got cut after hi hi 😅

[ 8: kiss me again and you’ll see ] i loved this so much i got a little bit carried away and made it kind of long. i'm sorry jsjd

the prompts

you were one of the best bakers in town. one of them, not the actual best. although you believed you deserved to be the only one with that title.

you had never considered yourself a competitive person until you met ten. the town’ sweetheart who for your misfortune, owned the other most claimed bakery.

for a while, you did take the cake for making the best pastries and desserts. you had always loved cooking, and having your store filled with your satisfied neighbors every day was all you could ever ask for. you lived in a small town too, so acclamation flew fast and soon there was not a single villager that wasn’t obsessed with your patisserie.

that lasted until there was a new baker in town. it was never a drastic popularity loss that caused your shop being completely empty and your sales crashing down, but you were totally sharing the praise that was previously merely yours with ten’ stupid sweet eyes.

therefore, it was an understanding that you hadn’t stepped out of your kitchen ever since the town mayor announced the yearly municipal contest. it consisted on the food professionals exhibiting their specialities, people trying everything so at the end of the day, they could vote who was their favorite.

every year in a row you had been given the medal of the bakery position, but for the first time in your life you now had your doubts. could you really win against ten?

hibernating in your kitchen resulted in you going over your recipes, modifying everything a hundred times until you found the perfect design. your friends and family adored you, but you were honestly driving them a little nuts, filling their mouths with cakes every second and asking which they liked better. only for you to not listen to their thoughts and start another recipe from scratch.

it was almost midnight when you were convinced you had finally figured the exact and right amount of ingredients you needed to make the winning cake. you wrote it down so you wouldn’t forget, on the roughed notebook that had the instructions of all the supposedly winning cakes.

after frantically opening the fridge, you almost broke down to tears when you couldn’t find anymore eggs. how could you have ran out of eggs???

you glanced at the clock before storming out of your house, running to the small market down the street. everything was closed now, but you knew old patty kept her store open until midnight.

“hi patty” you sighed and sprant inside, heading to the egg’s shelf.

there was no one in sight until, of course, in front of you, there was ten. holding the last egg carton.

you looked daggers at him. trying to step back so you wouldn’t end up physically harming him.

“ten” you spoke slowly, containing yourself from exploding. “i really need those eggs”

“i need them too, y/n. this is simply a matter of who got here first”

he smiled at you, almost looking nice, and left you there.

when you got back to your place you were a mess. you pulled your hair while you screamed all the words you would like to say to ten. his comment had annoyed you more than you could explain. if it truly was a matter of who got there first, this had always been your town. he was the intruder, the one who got here last. hence, he should have given you the eggs.

you were doodling on your journal when there was a knock on the door. you furrowed your eyebrows, wondering who of the people you knew would show up at one in the morning.

seeing ten with a basket full of eggs was an image you couldn’t wrap your mind around when you opened the door.

“these are better than the ones at the market”

“where are they from?”

“from my chickens. i raise and take care of them myself, i assure you won’t find better eggs than these ones”

you looked at him distrustfully, still not taking the box from his hands.

“why are you being nice to me?”

ten ignored your question and looked around your house, solely what he could observe from your doorstep, since it didn’t seem you would let him in.

he beamed sincerely at you when he noticed all the various cakes spreaded around your furniture.

“don’t be too hard on yourself, y/n” you didn’t know what to say, specially because those were the words you needed to hear at this time of pure self-criticism.

“hey, the cake of yours that is white chocolate mousse with lemon cream inside is mind blowing. totally contest worthy. i think it was called blanc?”

that comment took you aback.

“when on earth have you bought one of my cakes?” you didn’t recall the boy ever coming to your shop, you would probably have kicked him out if he had.

“my mom got it for her birthday” he shrugged and put the basket on your door mat. “goodnight, y/n”

ten walked away after that, and now you were staring at the eggs in your kitchen counter. you had never seen ones so fresh since forever, they were in impeccable condition.

you shook your head and stored them in the fridge. you couldn’t accept help from the competition, that was just plain weak.

you got ready for bed and reminded yourself to get eggs at patty’s first thing in the morning. you also crossed out “blanc!!!! winning cake!!!!! (for real this time)” from the notebook.

it was finally the day from the contest, the town had been beautifully adorned, garlands hanging from the food stands.

you were currently at your stall, serving people the cake with a big smile even though you were a nervous wreck. you had barely left your spot to try the other delicious stuff that was going around.

“i see you settled on that one. it must be delicious. can i try?”

ten spoke softly with a smile on his lips. like he always had.

“just so you know, i had already made up my mind before you came by” you cut a piece and passed it to him.

of course you didn’t trust ten’s recommendation to go for that exact cake. what if he was planning to do the same and then accuse you of plagiarism? you never knew. but after asking around and confirming that he had prepared a chocolate cake, you were safe.

“mm, this is great. seriously. really tasty and the right amount of sweet”

“thank you”

ten arched his eyebrows at that.

“what did you say?”

“thank you” you repeated a little louder, still mumbling, not wanting him to actually hear you.

“wow, the y/n thanking me?? her archenemy???? must be my lucky day”

you couldn't help but giggle. the truth was that ten wasn't a bad person or anything for that matter. he was actually really nice and sweet, maybe that was made you hate him even more.

“did you use my eggs?”

“not really”

“what, why?”

“i wasn't sure if you had poisoned them”

you spoke in such serious and confident tone now it was his turn to burst into laughter.

“you really think i would modify my chickens just so i could give you poisoned eggs”

“better safe than sorry”

“you are something else” you wondered how he never appeared without a smile. it was like his signature. but you kinda didn't mind it today.

“do you want to try mine?”

you nodded and he guided you towards his stand. the cake was delightful, and you became aware that you had never actually tried ten's cooking before.

suddenly, you heard the mayor's voice through a megaphone saying they would announce the winner soon. ten and you went together to the town square, before parting ways to your respective friends. he didn't leave without wishing you luck first.

your mom wrapped her arms around you as the winning names were told. the bakery category was left for last, and your nails were suffering the effect of your nerves.

“and the winner for this years best baker goes to...”

you shut your eyes.

“y/n!!!!”

your family and friends cheered noisier than everyone else, but your eyes glowed when seeing the entire reunited town applauding and complimenting you. all that energy and hard work had reaped its fruits and it made you more than happy. you only wished you could have enjoyed the process a bit more, after all, you loved baking and you loved this town. you shouldn't need much more.

you were thanking someone when you saw ten making his way towards you. he waited aside for you to finish, a radiant smile on his face.

“congrats”

“thanks a lot, ten. your cake was great as well”

the boy moved closer and fixed his eyes on yours. your arms shivered. you had never let him be this close to you, and you could sense he was testing the waters by the way he hesitated sluggishly.

honestly, you weren't even conscious of your surroundings when ten kissed you. this was a scenario you had never given thought to before, but it didn't bother you, not one bit. you liked it, his lips on top of yours. his mouth was so warm from all the smiles he gifted.

he pulled away and looked at you once again. he had expected you to run away, scream at him, hell, maybe even punch him, but you didn't. you just stayed there, beautiful as ever. and he thanked all the gods above for that.

“here, i made you a congratulations cupcake. i always knew you would win” you hadn't noted he had an arm behind his back, which was now handing you a cupcake with flawless buttercream icing.

“how can i know this is not poisoned?”

ten eyed you before taking a bite out the pastry, watching you as he did, humming in satisfaction.

“there's only one way to find out. kiss me again and you’ll see”.

[jaqfms]

there's     jacques    ‘jaq’    daingerfield   !     though     on    their     socials     they     go     by     @thedangerousq     .     i     heard     he     is     originally     from     paris     ,     france     ,     but     made     the     big     move     to     los     angeles     to     join     TWENTIES     .     you     haven't     heard     about     it     ?   well     ,     apparently     their     dream     is     to     design     his     own     video     game   ,     but     they     have     no     chance   unless     they     quit     being     so     cocky     &     lazy     .     that     said     ,     those     behind     the     scenes     have     said     they     can     be     witty     &     charismatic     too.     guess     we'll     have     to     watch     and     find     out     !     ━     &    laughing     until     you     cry     ,          a     cartoon     theme     song     paired     with     a     hip     hop     beat     ,     a     juul     behind     your     ear     ,     vines     quoted     in     a     thick     french     accent     .    (     timothee     chalamet     ,     cis male     ,     he/him     )   (     pepper    ,     she/her + they/them     ,     est     ,     twenty four     )

ABOUT THE MUN.  are ya in a relationship? you think i can convince someone to do that?

hello, it’s me again. i tired myself out with haisley’s so jaq’s if going to be considerably shorter. let’s go. 

BIO.  aaaahhhhhhhhhh shhiiittttt *begins understanding things*

jacques daingerfield was born in france to two very average parents. like his mother was a teacher and his father was a financial analyst. nothing wild or crazy going on there, and to top it off he was the middle child, and well, you can tell. 

he has four siblings. he was the third kid, and well, he spent most of his childhood fighting for any kind of attention, usually by making inappropriate little jokes or you know, fart noises. yes his parents were generally exasperated with him, but that behavior made sure they paid attention to him. and honestly that was all jacques wanted. 

again, jacques had a pretty average upbringing. he went to school, he was actually pretty popular among his peers despite being so annoying (definitely very unpopular amongst his teachers for generally that class clown that sat in the back and always interrupted), and he excelled academically without really trying too much. well, in every subject but english funnily enough. jaq always struggled in english, which is why it was incredibly ironic that when his parents separated they decided to move to uk with his father. jacques was ten at the time, and he still doesn’t understand the decision.

so yes, jacques was the kid in class with the weird name and weirder accent who could barely communicate with his classmates. it didn’t take long for them to stop really trying to pronounce ‘jacques’ properly. jacques became jack without much input on his part, and by the time jacques had got enough of a handle on the english language to correct them the americanized name had already stuck. even at nine jacques was smart enough to know that insisting on the correct french pronunciation of his name just kind of made him sound like a pretentious french asshole, so instead he spun it. he embraced it. started signing all of his papers and assignments with ‘jaq’ with a q like it was his brand or something. even as a child jaq will give himself credit for being clever af. 

it actually worked pretty well honestly. the older jaq got the more he grew into himself, and the more comfortable he got with the english language. honestly a lot of how jaq learned english was through video games and youtube videos and cartoons, like those were some of his go to resources. spent a lot of time playing games with strangers and tested his english out with colourful trash talk. actually started his first ever youtube channel was basically that as just a way to practice his english a bit. all he did on there was play video games, and honesty he didn’t even show his face. the channel wasn’t that popular, but he had fun making it. 

jaq on the other hand had gained popularity by the time he was in middle school. granted, that popularity was mostly due to the fact that he had a popular older brother and sister, was french and therefore ‘cute’ (jaq didn’t pretend to understand how girls brains worked then, and he still doesn’t now) and his family always had the newest gaming system at their household, and even then it wasn’t wild popularity. but it was enough that barely anyone teased him for his thick french accent anymore, and yk what jaq would take it. he weirdly got even more popular with the guys in his grade when they found out about his youtube channel. they found it funny, and they would generally watch his videos and come tell him about their favourite parts later, ask him about how he got past a certain level or learned a certain cheat. jaq soaked up their admiration like a sponge, right into his ego. they were the beginning of jaq getting the big head he proudly sports today. 

that said for most second form jaq’s youtube channel was just a hobby. something he did for fun. like i said earlier, jaq actually did really well in school and his parents always expected him to follow in his father’s footsteps and go into something in business. after all, it would be an easy transition with both french and english under his belt. they knew he would excel. 

but then he met madi. and somehow the two started doing videos together for fun, and it quickly expanded into something a lot bigger. something that jaq wouldn’t have even dreamed of doing before. suddenly the picture perfect future he had planned for himself just seemed boring in comparison to what he and madi had going on, and so jaq easily picked that instead. his parents weren’t all that happy about it, of course, after all jaq had full scholarships to some schools just waiting for him to accept and he ignored all of them in favour of making videos of him playing games online. they still don’t understand, but jaq doesn’t really need them too. he’s happy with what he’s doing and he figures he can always go into business when he’s old and boring. 

he moved out of his parents house straight into an apartment with madi when things between them started getting really tough. they can’t really speak without the whole ‘we’re so disappointed in you’ conversation coming up so jaq doesn’t really speak to them unless he has to. both of his older siblings went into business like their parents wanted, and his younger siblings are on the same path. his little sister wants to be just like him though, and that warms his heart tbh. 

has come to TWENTIES to have a good time! wants to break into the acting industry like dylan o’brien and maybe show his parents that a ‘real’ career can come from something like this. his parents begged him not to come on this show and embarrass them so that is definitely what he’s about to do. 

HEADCANNONS. there are a lot of people who need to shut up.  not me though 

thinks he’s funny! sometimes he is

will answer to jacques, jaq, jaqi, or q! you can call him daingerfield if you want but not many people do

fun fact, made his instagram handle as a joke, much like awkwafina. was just supposed to a little dig about how many times he has to say ‘jack with a q’ whenever someone spells his name. but now the dangerous q is his brand, and just finds it really dumb and funny. 

a bit of a kleptomaniac. will swipe something he thinks is cool mostly just to do it. has very little impulse control. loves to pull pranks and generally make trouble, but not in a way that will ever actually hurt anybody because he’s not a whole idiot. not the biggest fan of cops. 

is an artist. will spray paint your walls and probably has spray painted the walls of his apartment. will doodle weird things all over napkins or receipts or whatever he can get his hands on. has drawn out little video game characters he wants to be in his future games, and actually is considering going to school for a video game programming degree just for that. the funny thing is with his grades he could probably do it. is teaching himself coding in the mean time. 

 the type of person to start drumming on the counter or desk with his hands or like pencils or pens when he’s bored. will make up fun little raps on the spot. 

incredibly intelligent but doesn’t like to talk about it. would much rather act dumb than act like he has any braincells. he doesn’t want to give anyone expectations. 

all the youtube success has definitely gone to his head in the way that?? he just thinks they’re untouchable like he cannot compute the concept of their channel failing or their future endeavors failing. definitely thinks that TWENTIES will lead to much bigger things for them. will walk into his future acting auditions like he’s the shit. 

an introvert with extrovert tendencies. needs to be by himself to chill out and recharge but can like work a room honestly. can make friends pretty much everywhere he goes. a bit of a charmer when he wants to be. 

a smoker unfortunately. also a bit of a stoner. definitely has a juul on him at all times, like i said he tends to keep it behind his ear and then be like ???? where’s my juul. 

needs glasses but refuses to wear them. is very stubborn about it tbh. does not want to get contacts because he hates the idea of putting something into his eye. so you can catch him squinting sometimes like a fool. 

one of the first things he treated himself to with his first big youtube check like outside of rent was a tattoo! it’s on his ribs and it’s just a drawing he did himself but he loves it and it was the start of an addiction. he has about five. also has a few helix and orbital piercings on his left ear. 

another muse of mine with a tiktok, but jaq just uses his to make music for the most part. will turn the mickey mouse club house theme song into bars! (if you’ve seen that tiktok,,,, ily) 

a big nerd. reads comic books. watches anime. will get very reasonably upset about the avatar the last airbender movie whenever it’s brought up.

can cook really well, but whenever he does it it’s pure chaos. like julian/brad leone in the kitchen for sure. but the food comes out tasting really good, so???

is jewish af. knows a bit of hebrew and a bit of yiddish because of his grandparents mostly. is kind of ??? a lot more lenient with things now that he’s not around his parents as often i’m ngl. 

brings his ds everywhere and you can literally catch him on the bus vaping and playing animal crossing because he hasn’t bothered to get a american license yet 

is always willing to take a picture with a subscribers and they’re always the weirdest thing. there are pictures of subscribers like pretending to stab him in the eye. prom pose pictures with subscribers. the weirder the better tbh

has gone to vidcon a few years in a row, always has the wildest time. there is video footage of him waking up in some strangers bathtub with a feather boa around his neck. it’s probably on instagram. 

is also bi af. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS.  very proud to announce that i am officially a lost cause! 

BEST FRIENDS.

A BROMANCE. 

FWB/EWB.

EXES. 

FANS OF HIS YOUTUBE VIDEOS. 

and here’s his wanted tag, i forgot to do the same for haisley so here is her wanted tag. 

and many more, y’all this took so long and i’m so tired but like this and i will slide into your dms for plots!

[stevie-writes-the-pain-away]

Alcoholics Anonymous - Chapter Nine

        "Hey."

        I turned my head and saw Murdoc standing a few metres away, his chiselled features still striking from where he stood. I felt as though Murdoc was either always predictable in the strangest of ways or he was a complete stranger, and there was no in between. Even if I just met him. The air surrounding him usually felt perfectly quintessential as Murdoc was of himself, except he wasn't the same Murdoc I came to know. I felt exactly where I needed to be - or should've been - but he seemed nervous, not wanting to come any closer. I sighed and greeted him with a smile, "Hey." I nudged my head to the side, gesturing him to join me under the roof of the entrance.

        He ambled over as a cautious stallion would then pursed his lips like he was lost in thought. It took him a while to say anything, but eventually he took a deep breath in and out, turning my way. "(Y/N) . . ." I looked back at him. "About what happened the other day . . . I-I didn't mean to force myself on you."

        I widened my eyes, caught of guard and almost nonplussed. He certainly didn't force himself on me. Sure, the kiss was unexpected, but I let him crawl on top of me with open arms. I acknowledged the idea of silence not equalling "Yes", which I totally understood, but I think kissing him back with fiery passion was my own way of playing into his affection. Or lust. Now I wasn't so sure I knew what I was getting myself into . . . What was his goal that night? Suddenly there were too many questions.

        "No, no, Murdoc, you didn't at all." I hesitated to continue in case I wore out the assurance to a questionable degree, but laughed a little. "I . . . actually enjoyed our time together . . . a lot."

        Murdoc looked at me with doubtful, departed eyes, clearly just as surprised as me. "But I was also kind of an asshole," he claimed. "Not only was I withdrawing like a child does 'cause we were interrupted but I couldn't even offer to take you home." It meant a lot how much he cared and I would've never expected him to be that type of man, not that that's what was bewildering. If he was insecure about being intimidating in any way, I would've expected him to take an accepted apology with ease.

        "Don't worry about it, Muds, I took the bus," I smiled. "That's one less car to pollute the earth," I chuckled to lighten him up.

        "Are you sure?"

        "Positive," I pressed. Our gazes fell into each other like two deep pools of realization. I felt him inch closer with eased in comfort and I recognized that adorable, authentic smile I always dreamed about slipping back onto his face. I love that smile. I would walk into a million busy London, England thoroughfares to make sure it stayed there.

        "Well, I guess . . ." he turned back to face onward with aplomb. "On account that I didn't scare you off or anything . . . You're always welcome to my humble abode. And if you need anybody to talk to, I'm just a text away."

        I smiled to him, wishing his hands were out of the pockets of his jacket. That way, I could possibly shuffle closer, I could possibly hold one. Or maybe we could hold more than just our hands if Murdoc really felt something between us. "You're always welcome to my home, as well . . ." I paused. "Which, I just realized now, you've never been to."

        Murdoc smirked with perked up keenness, "Oh, right." We both eyed each other with the same idea. "And you've still got some of your music to show me, too."

        I felt my smile grow. "When are you free next?"

        The weekend came faster than expected. My exhilaration for the future certainly helped the boring, drawn-out days sweep by with ease. Cassidy had left with her friends again and wouldn't be back until late in the morning, I assumed, so it would just be me and Murdoc alone. Me and Murdoc alone. Was I possibly too excited for him coming over? Maybe. Was I probably holding my breath? You bet. Either way, I unnecessarily prepared myself for anything and everything.

        I'd told Murdoc my address after our last session, and when I heard him knock on the door I knew it couldn't have been anybody else. Placing my phone down and taking one last glance at my now clean apartment, I made my way to the door. Sure enough, when I opened it, I saw the handsome bloke carrying a small, warm smile on his face, "Good evening."

        "Hello there," I greeted with nod. It was showering that day and I noticed his choice of clothing; a more comfortable turtleneck sweater, with an oversized leather jacket and simple jeans all drenched from the rain. He kept his classic Cuban heels on though, and I let him in immediately.

        As I closed the door I watched him look around, realizing that in the light of my living room lamps his hair wasn't greasy as usual. It's not as if I cared about his hygiene considering I didn't even know how to take care of my own, but when he walked by he smelled quite nice. Stuff like that didn't typically stand out when Murdoc and I crossed paths but I guess something about that day encouraged him to step it up a little. "Nice place," he huffed.

        "I'm not gonna lie, it's usually a pigsty, but I figured cleaning for once wouldn't hurt."

        "For once or for me?" he smirked, and my face heated up.

        "Well, I've gotta make sure my guests feel special," I grinned. I didn't know what to expect of the rest of the evening but part of me was a tad more nervous than I thought I'd be. "Want a little tour?"

        "That'd be great," he agreed. Being an apartment, there wasn't much to show. The living room had a barely stocked shelf, coffee table, a single three-person couch and T.V set up on an end table on the opposite wall. Then, on the other side of the doorway, was a two-person dining table with only one chair, an empty kitchen and trash bin. The washroom wasn't anything special, nor was the laundry closet, but I saw Murdoc's interest gravitate towards my bedroom more and more. When I opened the door he smiled at the boredom of my tedious nest; a mattress, small bedside table, laundry basket, and an old, broken dresser drawer.

        "There's nothing really here, as you can see, but it's where I spend an unhealthy amount of my free time anyway," I nervously laughed. I invited him inside and he took a look around, admiring my belongings.

        I watched as he chuckled, "Did you just move in or something?"

        I laughed in return and shook my head, slightly humiliated. "Nah, I just never found the time to decorate or anything. I'd prefer to waste my money on that after the essentials."

        "Well, you should treat yourself sometime. Or at least draw a doodle every now and then and hang 'em up." Murdoc turned back to me, his head pulled into another wave of interest. "Where's all your music? Perhaps you could hang those up instead and give the room a little creativity."

        I blinked, looking around as I pictured the idea in my head. How could I have not thought of that before? "They're over here," I pointed to one of my dresser drawers. I didn't have enough clothes to fit every cubby, so I simply filled one up with my writing and a few sentimental belongings. I pulled the top drawer open and picked up a few sheets, scanning through them to make sure they weren't any of my intolerable pieces.

        I was never sure how to feel about my music. I was no critic, so I just kept writing and improving until I was satisfied, but I never had the confidence in myself to think they were good enough to be shared. And there I was, showing off my work to a professional producer from a music industry who did this shit for a living. It was at that moment of comprehension I completely regretted telling him about my hobbies.

        Murdoc took the paper from my hands, reading them over as he made himself comfortable on my mattress. I bit my lip, anxiously yearning for his reaction, but the more he read, the deeper he seemed to have dove into my work. I watched his eyes wander the paper with furrowed brows and wondered whether it was a fortunate or more unfortunate sign. "(Y/N) . . . You wrote this?"

        "Y-yeah. I . . . Is it bad?" I felt my gasp hitch.

        Murdoc shuffled in his spot and sat up straighter, re-reading the pages he held. "(Y/N), this is really good," he said, clearly as amazed as expressed. I felt a sigh of relief lift the heavy buckets of suspense from my chest and escape through my lips, walking over to sit beside him.

        "You really think so?"

        "Of course!" he exclaimed. He nudged me with his shoulder, an unexpected sign of validation towards my creation. I smiled so wide I must've looked stupid. I understood my happiness but couldn't perceive why Murdoc appreciating my music made me feel as giddy as it did; more than it would from the approval of others, I mean. Then again, he worked with music everyday, but he was also the only man that I deeply cared about at that point. No wonder I wanted a pat on the back from him so much. "Got a name for it yet?" Murdoc asked.

        "Nah . . . It's not like anybody else is gonna see it anyway," I faintly laughed.

        "We'll see about that," Murdoc chuckled.

        "W-what do you mean?"

        "Well, with work like this, there isn't one producer I know that wouldn't dive headfirst into signing you off," he said.

        I held my breath. I wasn't expecting Murdoc to absolutely abhor my writing, but his reaction felt almost too good to be true. "I-I don't know about that . . ." I replied under my breath. Murdoc looked at me as if I was just trying to be modest.

        "Well, if you're so unsure, you weren't wrong. I am a producer, so I might just steal this myself and release it with my name on it," he joked.

        I laughed, shaking my head. "Thanks for behaving so merciful towards my musical complaints."

        "Complaints?" Murdoc questioned. "These are more than just complaints," he commented with an insulted tone. "This is fucking art, (Y/N)! What's this one about?"

        I looked down to the ripped piece of crinkled paper, then back up to him, our faces only inches apart. "Um . . . Money, I guess you could say. I-I mean, it's more about how a lot of people would prefer money over other things? Especially how some people would rather waste their time and lives for money instead of appreciating what they already have."

        Murdoc's eyes grew soft and he hummed a low, gravely noise I'd remember him creating before; a sort of trademarked quirk of his. I hoped it wasn't a sort of scowl or laughter towards me and my stupid stuttering. "Nervous?" he asked.         I felt myself lean in close, and it looked as if he might've been as well. "N-no," I whispered. "Just flattered."

        "Well, I think it's endearing," he said. Our noses were nearly touching and I felt tempted to lean in for a kiss, and I think he felt the same way as well.

        Murdoc's smirk remained and we sat quiet, our lips seconds away from colliding before there was an echoed knock at the front door. Startled, I backed up, looking up to my bedroom door. I saw Murdoc's irritated expression bubble to the surface, gritting his teeth as he turned to the door as well. I could tell he took his No Turn-offs policy very seriously. "I-I'm gonna go get that," I said.

        I rose from my spot, reaching for the door handle. "I'll be waiting," Murdoc growled from behind me. I glanced behind my shoulder to see his tongue crawling out through his mischievous grin. His lustful expression, as well as his tongue sliding out between his lips and unrolling like salmon-colour silk was both interesting and arousing. I smirked back, reluctantly leaving the room and heading down the hall.

        I unlocked the front door and pulled it open to find Cockblocker Cassidy on the other side. She smiled at me, rushing past me and into the living room. "Change of plans!" she exclaimed.

        How lovely, I thought. "I-is that so?" I smiled as sweetly as I could. I watched her hop onto the couch, picking up the remote for the T.V. "Don't you have your keys?"

        "I think I left them here by accident," she answered. "At least 'I hope'. I'd hate to lose them again. Remember when I lost them the first time you came out with us?" she laughed.

        "Yeah . . . Well, what are you doing here?"

        Cassidy turned to me with a cocked eyebrow, "This is my apartment too, isn't it?"

        "No, you're right," I corrected myself, "but what are the change of plans?"

        "What's this?" I heard from behind me.

        I straightened my back as I jumped in my spot and whipped my head around, startled. I smiled awkwardly at Murdoc as he walked down the hallway, inviting himself into our conversation. "U-um, Cass?" Cassidy nodded, placing her feet on the living room table and nestling herself into a comfortable position. Murdoc walked forward, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans and Cassidy looked up, instantly alarmed and hopping to her feet like a nun watching a naughty movie. "This is my friend," I smiled.

        From the corner of my eye, I noticed Murdoc glancing back at me very briefly with a hint of dispirited confusion before smiling back at Cassidy. It hurt me the way he looked at me, but I wasn't sure what made him react so. The two walked closer to each other, their palms meeting in a swift handshake. "Pleasure to meet you Mr. . . . ?"

        "Niccals," Murdoc supplied. "Murdoc Niccals. And you're Cassidy?"

        "Cassidy Desdemona," she said.

        "(Y/N)'s told me a lot about you," Murdoc continued, and to my dismay, I nearly squeaked, gasping in shock. "All good things, I mean," he chuckled.

        "I should hope so," Cassidy mumbled, taking a glimpse of my suspicious, twisted grin. She ambled closer in my direction, "You never told me there was a man in your life," and she didn't even bother to whisper. Sometimes I felt like Cassidy's only purpose in my life was to torment me like a sister figure.

        "Cass, i-it's not like that-" I stuttered, before looking back at Murdoc. He looked at me, awaiting my answer with apprehension. "I mean . . . I-t's none of your business," I concluded as an attempt to be mature and straight to the point.

        Cassidy chuckled, shrugging and proceeding down the hall. "It was nice meeting you, Murdoc," she simpered over her shoulder before retiring for her bedroom.

        I sighed and wiped the sweat from my forehead, looking back at Murdoc who rested his hands on his hips. "What could be so important between us it's none of her business?" he teased. I smiled, feeling an urge from every atom of my being to lean in and taste his lips for real, but I felt paranoid knowing Cassidy was hanging around. I sighed with gloom, and Murdoc's smug look dissolved. "Is something wrong?"

        "No," answered under my breath. "I'm just . . . Cassidy might as well have eyes everywhere . . . She's the inquisitive type," I said.

        Murdoc mouthed an "Oh", looking away awkwardly and it was silent between us as I scratched my arm. "That's alright," he smiled, walking forward and raising his hand to meet my face, his thumb grazing my cheek. "It just means we'll be over at my place more often than yours," he said, coming closer and closer to my face.

        "I like your bedroom better anyway," I agreed, my fingers brushing his arm as I traced it over to his hand, holding it in my palm. He moved it back down to my shoulder and to my neck, his nails running through my hair as we moved closer. Our lips were about to meet before his hand left my shoulder, searching his back pocket and pulling out a small slip of paper in front of me. "What's this, you tease?" I light groaned with a smile.

        "A little something for your wall," he said, holding his hand in front of me. I looked down to see a silly sketch, reminding me of the first time he ever attempted a drawing for me. It honestly wasn't that bad of an okay hand symbol - I was impressed - but what I held up in front of me was a stealth attack of affection.

        It was a small drawing of two stick figures, one green-skinned with what I could only assume to be a bass guitar and the other with a microphone who's hair colour matched my own. I laughed, "Where'd this come from? I don't even remember the last time I ever sang."

        "Saw a pencil and sticky notes on the ground and thought I'd bless you with my talent," he said. "Pretty accurate for someone who drew from memory, huh?"

        "Oh, you know it," I smiled up at him, walking back to my room as he followed closely behind. I stuck the paper to the wall beside my bed so it could be the first thing I saw when I woke up every morning, and I smiled. I looked at it and smiled. I felt Murdoc's presence behind me, giving me a soft, fluffy feeling in my stomach I'd never felt before. It rose from my feet to my head and he got closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and letting me melt into his arms.

        I lifted my head from under his chin and turned around, and as soon as my eyes reached his face, our lips finally met. I felt my heart pounding in my throat and his delicate hands cradle me like a small house pet. I snaked my arms around his waist and pulled our chests together before our kiss broke. I couldn't help but giggle.

        "Do I amuse you?" he asked, and I looked up at his half-lidded, captivated eyes.

        "In a way," I admitted. "I'm just . . . I'm just happy."

        That single moment offered me more gaiety than I'd felt in years. However, no matter how euphoric he made me feel, Murdoc didn't really seem like the type to be willingly tied down by any serious relationship, did he? He was more of a smash and dash type of person, and he didn't hesitate to make this clear in therapy. I was partially convinced his admitted sex addiction wasn't still in broad action, but there had to be a reason he seemed to care so much about me. Hopefully he felt the same butterflies in his stomach as I felt in mine whenever I saw him. Besides, if Murdoc wanted to look like such a tough guy, surely he wouldn't want to act sweet in front of others very often . . . Maybe I was more special than I thought I was?

        "You alright, lass . . . ?"

        "Hmm?"

        "You spaced out a little, love." Murdoc smirked at me, and I blinked my foggy eyes away. In front of me stood a shimmering white cloud of blurry Murdoc's face and I hadn't noticed until I was too embarrassed to reverse the damage. "Undoubtedly another habit of yours?"

        I gave his face some personal space and backed up, sucking in a deep breath before shrugging. "You caught me," I sighed.

        "Well, if you're gonna get flustered over my devilish charms, maybe here isn't a good place," he said, looking back to my bedroom door.

        "You're probably right," I said, wondering if Cassidy could be listening into our conversation as we spoke. I was thinking irrationally, I know, but as much as I liked to think I knew her, we were still merely strangers who only went out partying a couple of times and got hammered at any attempt to familiarize each other.

        "Wanna go for a drive?" he offered, his smile wrapping me in a warm blanket.

        "Sure," I grinned. "I'd love that."

[myladyprincessbugaboo]

Adrien the Matchmaker

Inspired by @isuthetimelady‘s post.

Summary: In which Adrien believes Felix and Marinette would make an awesome couple, so he takes it upon himself to become their matchmaker.

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: The Plan

                                                                                          After the fiasco with the reakumatization of Lady Wifi, Reflekta, and Princess Fragrance, Adrien didn't actually believe he was going to hear from Felix for a while.

Of course, that changed a month later when he received a surprise call from his cousin. He'd said he wanted to make amends, and was currently in the process of being transferred to Collège Françoise Dupont. He'd also mentioned that he was going to be staying at the Agreste Mansion.

Adrien was excited, to say the least. He was sure that Felix would fit in great with all his friends if he could show them he'd changed. The next week came, and with that Felix Graham de Vanily was officially enrolled, and would be starting school that day. Adrien could tell from all the glares directed at Felix though, that it was going to take a lot of time.

"Everyone," Ms. Bustier said with a smile, calling the attention of the class, "this is Felix, Adrien's cousin. He will be joining us for the remainder of the year. Please make him feel welcomed." She then turned to Marinette. "Marinette, as class representative, it would be really great if you could show Felix around, help him get to know the place."

"I- uh- sure?" She didn't really want to be around him after the stunt he'd pulled last month. He'd willingly helped Hawkmoth. She doubted anyone was going to welcome him with open arms anytime soon.

Still, she wasn't going to hold a grudge. Instead, she gave him a small smile before he headed to his seat. With that, class began, Marinette spending the period occasionally taking notes while trying not to start daydreaming about her future with Adrien, and making sure she didn't accidentally doodle 'Mrs. Agreste' all over the page, after what happened last time.

                                                                                       When the bell rang, Alya bumped her shoulder with hers and gave her a wink, before telling her she had lunch plans with Nino, and wishing her good luck showing Felix around.

Marinette sighed, getting up and shouldering her bag, before walking over to Felix's desk. "You ready?"

He nodded, expression showing no emotion. They began walking in silence. When they reached the outside of the classroom though, they ran into Adrien. "Hey." He said, smiling at them both. "I was wondering if I could tag along?"

"Uh, s-sure." Marinette replied, cheeks flushed, giving him a nervous smile.

The three walked around in silence, excluding the few moments where she named the rooms as they passed them. Adrien excused himself then, stating he had to go to the bathroom, leaving Felix and Marinette standing there in awkward silence.

"You can leave if you want." Felix said, breaking the silence. "I can show myself around."

Marinette looked at him then. There was something in his steel blue eyes that told her he didn't actually want to be alone at the moment, no matter what he said, but he could tell she wasn't that comfortable around him. She squared her shoulders, and met his gaze with her determined one.

"Thank you, but I'm happy to help. Let's go."

                                                                                        Adrien really didn't want to leave Marinette and Felix alone, he was still trying to warm everyone up to his cousin after all, but he knew if he didn't feed Plagg soon, he was going to have to deal with the kwami's whining for the rest of the day, and he really didn't want that.

As soon as Plagg was fed, Adrien quickly ran out jogging to try to catch up to them.

Though, he guess he shouldn't have been surprised to see them engaging in a conversation already. Marinette really was a sweetheart, and their 'Everyday Ladybug'.

If anyone could get the class to think about accepting his cousin and forgiving him, it was her. And as Felix had told him he'd wanted to become a better person, maybe she could help him with that as well.

Mind made up, he decided that he'd leave the two be, and headed in the opposite direction, towards the cafeteria. Though he couldn't help but notice as he left how close the two were when walking, and how cute they looked together.

Maybe she liked him? He'd never heard Marinette talking about a love interest, but he thought those two would definitely be a good match.

"Hey, Alya!" Adrien said as he approached the table Nino and Alya were sitting at. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." She said, getting up and walking over to him. "What's up?"

"I was thinking of trying to matchmake Marinette and Felix. I think they'd make a good couple-"

"Oh, Sunshine," Alya said, shaking her head. "you oblivious boy. Marinette and Felix? The guy who impersonated you, and got me Juleka, and Rose, akumatized? You really think she'd be interested in him?"

"Yeah. Besides, she hasn't been interested in anyone as far as I know, and I think she could really help him open up. I really think you'd all like him if you got to know him."

"Sorry, Adrien, but I don't think that's a good idea. Your heart's in the right place, but trust me when I say it wouldn't really be a good idea." She patted his shoulder before heading back to her table. "What did he want to talk about?" Nino asked when she got back.

"Something that would not end well." Was all she said, before going back to finishing her meal.

                                                                                        Adrien was honestly surprised that no one would help him get Felix and Marinette together. They clearly would make a great match. How could they not see it? No matter, he'd prove them all wrong. He just had to figure out how to get them together.

After about an hour, he finally got it. He could text both of them to meet him somewhere at a certain time, and hopefully they'll run into each other. They won't even realize they're on a date! It's the perfect plan.

Picking up his phone, he began his text Marinette, sent it, and then sent the same message to Felix, before smiling to himself as he put his phone down.

They were perfect for each other, and he was going to prove it to all of them.