#if i’ve guessed the roommate right i don’t want to disturb her. we all have a right to privacy

[mars-ipan]

sometimes god plays funny little jokes

#marzi speaks #i’m finally like screw it i need to shower #so i grab clothes n towels and such #and while i’m doing that. one of my roommates comes in #(not sure which- again focused on clothes) #walks into the bathroom. closes the door #i don’t hear anything so i think it’s the roommate who likes to hang out in the bathroom when she needs time to herself #(bc i am in the dorm a Lot. especially rn bc it’s the only place i can get work done) #and here’s the thing #if i’ve guessed the roommate right i don’t want to disturb her. we all have a right to privacy #if i’ve guessed the roommate wrong i REALLY don’t wanna disturb them bc that’ll be awkward as fuck #debating texting her to ask #but. yaknow

[theprincelyking]

TADC Headcanons (Mostly about their memories)

I’ve been thinking of headcounts for the circus. Just tiny parts of their lives that shine through in one form or another. If you want me to expand more on the specifics, let me know.

I think subconsciously they do retain some vague glimmer of their memories, which contributes to their personalities. And that small things can trigger something primal and unknown within them, for example:

…

Pom: “Ugh, we really are gonna be stuck here forever.” Jax: “Glad you managed to figure that out toots! After all, you gotta get used to the next how many years we’re gonna be in here.” Pom: “I’m gonna be old enough to be someone’s grandma.”

She looked over to see Jax’s eyes welling with tears, that threatened to spill out

Pom: “Ahh! Are you okay? Did I upset you?” Jax: “Ugh, right. Fair warning. Random words can set us off. For some reason, my body starts bugging out everytime I hear the word, "grandma". Tried to get Caine to fix it, but no luck.” . . .

But it can also be wholesome I betcha …

Ragatha was sitting at the table bored. Seemingly unimpressed with her plate of digital food

Pom: “…Are…Are you going to eat that?”

She slides it over to Pomni and she gingerly eats it

Pom: “Uhh…This place sure has…well food.” Rag: “Yeah. Nothing too interesting.” Pom: “True. I wish they had something more diverse…Like something seasoned, or something like desert. Ohh, I could really go for some beans.”

She smiles warmly at that

Rag: “I don’t know why, but everytime I hear the word "beans’" I feel weirdly happy. It’s almost nostalgic.” Pom: “Do you like beans?” Rag: “I don’t know. But I like that word a lot.” . . .

And some can be just plain weird …

Zooble was walking back to their room while Pomni followed

Pom: “So…What’s it like having…A body like that?” Zoo: “Hard to keep track of when your roommate keeps using your hand as a back scratcher. Also walking was a NIGHTMARE when I first got here.” Pom: “I can only imagine. It looks like a lot.” Zoo: “Yeah. It’s so annoying.”

Pomni nodded

Pom: “Well, maybe we could do something to get away from the others.” Zoo: “Not interested.” Pom: “Oh, that’s okay. Uhh, I guess I just wanted to forget about the whole…In a video game thing.” Zoo: “sigh I know it’s hard. But I’m not really the person you wanna hang out with.” Pom: “I’m sure your not a drag or anything. Ehh…I guess if you need me, I’ll be outside the tent. I think I saw a bunch of weird stuff outside. Balls, Board games. I think I even saw a pair of skates-”

Zooble immediately bursted out with laughter, almost falling to the floor, beating their mismatched feet on the ground as they wheezed hard at the word

Zooble: [censored] [censored] [censored]- Oh [censored], don’t say that word around me. It drives me nuts.” Pom: “Huh? Skates?” Zoo: WHEEZE . . .

And some are just…Completely out of left field … Pom: “Marco!” Rag: “Polo!”

They were in the digital lake, going on another one of Caine’s adventures. Thankfully today was rather simple. A pool party in the digital lake. Nothing more.

Pom: “Marco!” Jax: “Polo.”

Jax was using a giant rubber ducky to swim away from her immediately after that

Rag: “Hey! That’s not fair!” Jax: “Oh please, she’ll be fine.” Pom: “Marco!” Gang: “…Help?”

Pomni unblindfolded herself and could see Gangle, sort of stuck to the surface of the water…It didn’t seem like she could move. Pomni picked her up and she wrapped herself around her head, sort of creating a cute little bow on her head

Gang: “Oh that’s better, so cold…” Rag: “I was wondering where she was.” Jax: “I wasn’t.”

Pomni akwardly patted her mask and put back on the blindfold. She drifted in the water a bit before yelling out again

Pomni: “Marco!” Kinger: “I’ll have the Neapolitan cappuccino, More Cappa than Chino. Make sure it's got no more than 4oz of milk, The beans won't have the right texture otherwise-“

He explained in disturbing detail a very lengthy coffee order, which completely stopped the game.

Pom: “…Okay, maybe we should take a break.” Zoo: “I agree, especially since Jax is using my FACE AS A F[censored]G FOOTREST!”

Looks like Zooble also came apart in the water. And was not happy about it.

Rag: “I got your arm!” King: “…Oh!”

He paddles over with their torso, using it as a board to propel himself across

King: “Here you go!” Zoo: “…Gee. Thanks.”

They sneered a bit

#headcanon #the amazing digital circus #TADC #gangle #zooble #kinger #ragatha #jax #pomni #the amazing digital circus pomni #fanfic #head cannon #light angst #fluff

[lethal-honey]

🥃 for Nolan, Aiko, Angelo, Velvet, and Aya: "Most embarrassing thought you had while looking at your significant other while they were not aware you were looking at them?" (let the drunken shit ensue)

Send me  ‘ 🥃 ‘ + plus a question, and my muse will answer it while drunk.

“Jamie.... is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen when he has his cat ears out, or when he’s just purring.... or... wait, it was supposed to be embarassing for me, right? Hmm...” He covered his mouth, frowning slightly as he tried to focus, the alcohol making it hard for him to actually remember anything, but he felt like humoring the other. “I love when Jamie’s distracted reading so I can see how peaciful he can be, I guess the thought that embarassed me the most was when I saw him so focused on Lark that it wouldn’t matter what I did he wouldn’t notice. I was glad I got to watch them play and... I wanted to be part of that, I had no idea how to tell him that or how to explain what I was feeling to him or even if I should, but I just felt like I wanted to at least pretend we were a family, even if I was there just to be sure Jamie wasn’t trying to get himself killed and baby Lark was still alright... though... honestly.. I know Jamie is intelligent enough to take care of a child, I just worry about his mental and physical health” 

“I love that man!!! I love him so fucking much!! I want to spend an eternity with him! I hate it so much, but I love it so much at the same time! Whenever I look at him and he’s focused on something else I just can’t stop thinking about how handsome he is and how much I wanna kiss him all the time, I wanna have a family with him do you know how serious it is? Do you know how much this man has clearly brainwashed me?! I could be staring at him for the rest of my life, I don’t want anyone else, just him!” She was blushing a lot while not even second guessing herself on just spilling the stuff she kept thinking whenever she caught Demro distracted. She clearly just needed to spill it all out. “He’s perfect I have no idea why he decided to be with me but I love him!”

“Smile says we’re not a couple, but I guess he’s the closest thing I have to a significant other, so I’ll go with him...” The man hummed, trying to remember what he had thought in the moments he had caught himself watching his roommate while he was distracted. “Well... I guess the fact that usually when I see Smile’s distracted cooking he looks so soft and peaceful and enjoying himself that I wanna hug him and rest my head on his shoulder. I don’t do it, I don’t want to invade his personal space, even though I don’t mind it at all when he rests his chin on my leg when I’m playing cello.... am I rambling too much? I just think he looks adorable, I don’t know why people say he’s scary, sure, his culture is kinda scary, but it’s not like he does it without a reason and to just any random person, right? Anyway, I just think he’s huggable”

“I.... hmm... “ She was blushing already, thinking about it “There are so many embarassing things I think whenever I keep looking at him... that’s why I just think them and don’t really say anything... Imagine what would happen if Klea ever heard any of these?” She kept drinking, to make sure she was actually drunk before she said anything, a grimace forming on her face as soon as she felt the taste of alcohol in her mouth. “He looks so pretty, he’s so sweet and patient to me... sometimes he’s a little shit who likes to make fun of me, but you know what... I like it.. don’t tell him that, though, please!” She smiled to herself, the blush only getting darker “Sometimes I just keep watching him play with Bunny or working on his toys and I just want to be close to him and kiss him and, sure, we’re together, I shouldn’t be so embarassed to do those things, I guess, but I just don’t wanna disturb him, and don’t wanna keep him from doing the things he likes. I love his attention, but I love seeing him being calm and enjoying himself working on something he likes more”

“Do I really have to answer this? I was embarassed just by thinking about it...” She took another big sip of her drink, trying to make herself feel a little bit better, maybe “Well, with how Feral is it’s kind of.... hard not to think about everything we do together, though I don’t really think much about his... um... his... dick... but I do catch myself thinking about how he makes me feel with basically no effort on his part, he’s got a talent... I’m not that much into guys, and I sure don’t like Feral just because of that, but did I got lucky when I found him!” She stopped talking for a moment “Uh... those are my embarassing thoughts... usually whenever I look at him and he’s too focused on the dogs I just get a really happy feeling inside me and want to hug and kiss all of them and I just keep thinking about how much I’d like to have a family with him and raise our dogs... who knows we could have ... you know... those are embarassing too, actually... I wouldn’t tell those to Feral...”

#🔫 The Assassin (Nolan IC) #🔫 Are You Here To Hire Me? (Nolan's Asks) #🔪 The Artist (Aiko IC) #🔪 If I'm Honest With You Just Run And Hide (Aiko's Asks) #🎻 The Bartender (Angelo IC) #🎻 Don't You Wanna See The World? (Angelo's Asks) #🔥 The Witch (Velvet IC) #🔥 You Like Tarot? (Velvet's Asks) #🎀 The Fashion Designer (Ayako IC) #🎀 It's Such A Wonderful Life (Ayako's Asks) #descendingxintoxdarkness

[yemilnisu]

INCORRECT HAIKYUU QUOTES FROM BUZZFEED UNSOLVED

nisu entries:

i got this idea from @memekingofwwiii and some of it are theirs 🙇🏻‍♀️ thank you for letting me add it here 😊 it’s a mixture from buzzfeed unsolved supernatural and true crime 👀 i really had fun doing this!

warning: swearing, mentions of death/murder/killing/blood/weed

「part 2」

Tendou: i did have a neighbor who had an overhang of a lime tree, and it was great because i could go pick a little lime.

Ushijima: did you ever think about killing your neighbor?

Tendou: when he didn't give me limes, yeah.

Ushijima: oh, okay; all right.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Matsukawa: this is my bridge now, if you want it back you’re gonna have to kill me.

Oikawa: he did throw someone off the bridge once.

Matsukawa: fuck you, goatman!

Oikawa: Jesus Christ.

Kunimi: *behind the camera snickering as mattsun taunts the goatman much to oikawa’s dismay*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Matsukawa: hey demons, it’s me, ya boi.

Matsukawa: if you want to eat my heart, turn that light on. If you want to eat oikawa’s heart, turn that light on...

Oikawa: don’t drag me into your shit, mattsun.

*torch turns on*

Oikawa: *screams*

Matsukawa: *laughs hysterically as he continues to lie on the pentagram*

Kunimi: *actual wheezing*

Matsukawa: i think this demon’s a wimp.

Oikawa: he’s out of his fucking mind.

Kunimi: *having the time of his life*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Oikawa: every human's capable of murder if you push them enough. i just don't know if this is enough of a push.

Iwaizumi: okay.

Oikawa: it's true!

Iwaizumi: is that so?

Oikawa: yeah.

Oikawa: i bet you you would murder me if I pushed you enough.

Iwaizumi: yeah, probably.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tsukishima: …

Tsukishima: so, you're telling me, at nine years old, you don’t go to church. the first time you cross the threshold into holy ground,

Nishinoya: *makes noise and imitates blood coming out of his nose*

Tsukishima: blood expels from your nostrils?

Nishinoya: yeah, yeah. they ran outta tissues! mopping that up.

Tsukishima: …

Nishinoya: it was wild!

Tsukishima: it sounds wild.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kuroo: i think it was the neighbor. look, i’m a simple man. i see a trail of blood going to someone's house. even if they didn't do it, come on; you're going to jail.

Kenma: i think it might've been a random person.

Kuroo: all right.

Kenma: it just seems too obvious.

Kuroo: okay.

Kenma: there's a paper trail of their feud. why the hell would he be that dumb?

Kuroo: rage, you know? lust, rage. rage just- just building up, bursting out.

Kenma: well, i've never really gotten that angry. i don't really have that capacity.

Kuroo: it's building. it's building inside you. everyone sees it; we all see it.

Kenma: that's great. oh man, i can't wait for krakatoa then.

Kuroo: *shuddering* oh- oh- i shudder.

Kenma: hope no one's in the way 😺

Kuroo: …

Kuroo: scary.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Daichi: he allegedly chased his mother with an axe when he was 19.

Asahi: not great.

Daichi: (wheeze) no? not off- off to a bad start?

Asahi: no good. i’ve never done that. you didn’t do that did you?

Daichi: no! i didn't- what- is there anything to suggest that I would chase my mom with an axe?

Asahi: (inhales) not outright i feel like if you peel the layers back.

Daichi: you think if you peel the layers back from this onion, you'll see something you don’t want to see?

Asahi: yeah. i think you wear a mask sometimes 😅

Daichi: mm-hmm i think you should keep digging and maybe see what happens 🙂

Asahi: uh no i'm good 🧍🏻‍♂️

Daichi: *staring at asahi*

Asahi: 👁👄👁💧

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Osamu: my takeaway is people from chicago are weird.

Atsumu: the- this does not represent chicago. this is people and go "ey! chicago tylenol murders"

Osamu: (laugh) home with the beam, the cubs and the chicago tylenol murders and of course our nation's greatest tragedy, miya atsumu.

Atsumu: that- that's not me.

Osamu: i read it somewhere 🤷🏻

Atsumu: no, you didn’t, you probably wrote it.

Osamu: yeah.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Suna: i’d love to be an heiress.

Kita: (snickers)

Suna: i know she’s probably gonna disappear or something.

Kita: so you wanna be a trust fund baby?

Suna: i’d like someone to give me a lot of money for doing nothing. but i want-

Kita: and then you wanna disappear?

Suna: yes. i want to get a lot of money and then vanish from the face of the earth.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Ennoshita: her family believed that when she left at 11:30 am, she had as much as $30 in her purse, which in today’s dollars would be more than $750.

Nishinoya: holy moly!

Tanaka: that’s a lot of quiche—

Nishinoya: yeah.

Tanaka: that’s a lot of quiche.

Nishinoya: thirty bucks going that far in 1910.

Tanaka: i don’t even have $750 in my bank account.

Nishinoya: i’ve never had $750 in my pocket! i rarely have had $30 in my pocket.

Ennoshita: well i don’t really carry cash anymore-

Nishinoya & Tanaka: who does!?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Yaku: stop number one, mothman statue.

Lev: it looks very ornate.

Yaku: *shocked that lev knows that word*

Yaku: you’ll be able to stare at it eye to eye.

Lev: what’s that supposed to mean?

Yaku: it means you’re eight feet tall, it’s a tall joke. get it?

Lev: 🧍🏼

Yaku: 🤦🏼‍♂️

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Akaashi: any... any thought in that so far?

Bokuto: (fart sound) nope. what year is it, ‘66?

Akaashi: ‘66.

Bokuto: few teens out there probably smoking a few funny cigarettes.

Akaashi: you could say weed. it’s 2018.

Bokuto: ...some grass.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kageyama: so my guess is the couples were somewhere around here, maybe on that road over there.

Hinata: yeah.

Kageyama: and i'm not sure of the exact location but this is where they saw him stumbling around.

Hinata: they just… saw him kinda shambling?

Kageyama: yeah.

Hinata: big shambling man. kinda *shuffling his body*

Kageyama: i- i don’t know, maybe he was just taking a walk, i mean, what's it to you?

Hinata: why would you take a walk if you had wings?

Kageyama: he's a fucking creature, he can do what he wants.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kuroo: but all im saying is that what you need to gather from this is that he has an effect on people's psyche.

Lev: this mothman's a complicated character.

Kuroo: what does he sound like? what does he sound like?

Lev: he sound like the blood bird.

Kuroo: …

Lev: flappy spookster.

Kuroo: …

Kuroo: that's- come on.

Kuroo: *glances over to lev's notes*

Lev: the winged wretch. did i already say that?

Kuroo: this just says fright terror.

Kuroo: *throws away the notes*

Lev: you know, just call him batman, why is that hard? 😩

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

(howling)

Goshiki: what the fuck.

Shirabu: well those are coyotes… or dogs. Or a large pack of something.

Goshiki: holy shit.

Shirabu: just some coyotes.

Goshiki: are you not fucking alarmed right now?

Shirabu: are you scared? (laugh)

Goshiki: dude wait- this goes beyond belief, that was a pack of, whatever the fuck that was.

Shirabu: it was coyotes!

Goshiki: is that our cue to leave? i think maybe. we've been out here for quite a bit.

Shirabu: yeah, i don’t know if were gonna find anything tonight.

Goshiki: i don’t wanna be in the mouth of some coyote later, that's not how i want the picture wrap on old tsutomu to be.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Atsumu: air force one? they filmed air force one here?

Atsumu: air force one actually, now that i think of it, remember the reason they hijacked the plane is to release for the-

Sakusa: i’m gonna go ahead and cut you off right there 'cause i don’t give a shit.

Sakusa: we’re gonna move over here.

Atsumu: …okay.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kai: four people in a cell, that's a lot

Kuroo: i mean, you put any normal people in a room that's too small. like if you’re in a dorm in college, if you hate your roommate…

Kai: it's tough business

Kuroo: listening to music too loud when i'm trying to study

Kai: hwfrrrrr…

Kuroo: cookin' uhh… top ramen in the microwave when i'm trying to sleep

Kai: you got some axes to grind?

Kuroo: no.

Kai: oh

Kuroo: fuck you, daishou.

Kai: daishou?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

(distant thud)

Yamamoto: what the fuck?

Kenma: :3

Yamamoto: is all i have to say to that.

Kenma: they didn’t like the thumb talk.

Yamamoto: you didn't like the thumb talk? was it too much thumb talk? i thought we went about two minutes long on the-

(distant thud)

Kenma: they don’t like the thumb talk.

Yamamoto: *looking around in shock*

Kenma: *stopping himself from laughing*

Yamamoto: uhhhh… holy fuck. holy fuck, holy fuck. if you’re one of the people that had that thumb thing to happen to you, that sucks. what was it like?

Kenma: what do you think you're gonna get right now? 😑

Yamamoto: i feel like we should go see what that is, to be honest.

Kenma: *shakes his head*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tsukishima: we’re walking over to the source of the disturbance.

Hinata: hello? (sigh) i’m gonna lose my mind. so, it did that twice within the span of 10 seconds but nothing else?

Tsukishima: but, we can confirm that it did sound like this right? *slams the cabinet door*

Hinata: yeah.

Tsukishima: that was the sound.

Hinata: do you think the wind’s gonna do that twice?

Tsukishima: *blows on the cabinet door*

Tsukishima: not moving 🙄

Hinata: well, shit.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sugawara: oh there it is. it’s that. *pointing to where the sound was coming from*

Asahi: what?

Sugawara: there’s a logical explanation for you.

Asahi: ah! okay, there it is. well, there you go, there you go.

Sugawara: but, if we hadn’t seen that...

Asahi: if we hadn’t seen that we would be fooled 😅

Sugawara: no, we wouldn’t have been fooled. you would have been telling me for months.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

*inside the prisoners of ohio state penitentiary*

Kageyama: this is fucking terrible.

Tsukishima: it’s the opportunity of a lifetime to be here.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tendou: i’m separating from the group.

Semi: it’s the ideal time to kill him.

Tendou: yeah i mean, if i were gonna die in camera it would be a pretty noble thing.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Osamu: I don’t understand what’s wrong with atsumu sometimes.

Atsumu: what was that?

Osamu: i didn’t say anything.

Atsumu: you sure you didn’t say anything, ‘samu?

Osamu: now go back and set ‘em off to make sure they work.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sakusa: *inhales*

Atsumu: *inhales*

Sakusa: you need to back up from me. i can feel your air intake. it’s like a gross nasal jet, i don’t know.

Atsumu: *takes a step towards sakusa*

Sakusa: uh no *takes a step backwards*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Futakuchi: latch yourself onto my soul, come back to hollywood with me, and destroy the lives of all my friends and coworkers.

Koganegawa: a little hard to follow, but i like where you’re going.

Futakuchi: kogane’s family has a little-

Koganegawa: ey! ey! do-! do-! don’t!

Futakuchi: -dog named mickey.

Koganegawa:*trying to stop futakuchi*

Futakuchi: real good. you wanted me to give it my all. i’m throwing stuff on the table.

Koganegawa: insults, not personal information. you’re giving him a dossier on my life!

TAG LIST

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#incorrect haikyuu quotes #haikyuu x reader #tendou x reader #ushijima x reader #matsukawa x reader #oikawa x reader #kunimi x reader #iwaizumi x reader #tsukishima x reader #nishinoya x reader #kuroo x reader #kenma x reader #daichi x reader #asahi x reader #osamu x reader #atsumu x reader #suna x reader #kita x reader #tanaka x reader #ennoshita x reader #yaku x reader #lev x reader #akaashi x reader #bokuto x reader #kageyama x reader #hinata x reader #goshiki x reader #shirabu x reader #sugawara x reader #sakusa x reader

[subterfugespecialist]

Led to You

As a child, everyone finds their "soulmate guide," an animal meant to lead your soulmate to you. And one morning, Janus and Remus wake up to see a stranger's guide in their homes.

Written for Day 3 of @dukeceitweek​ : snakes/bugs

AO3 link

Pairings: Dukeceit, Familial Creativitwins, Platonic Loceit, Moceit, and Dukexiety

Warnings: Some Remus-typical violent thoughts, scorpions/tarantulas/snakes

Word count: 4228

Janus woke up to something brushing against his hand. He groaned and batted Dusa away while muttering "Five more minutes"

But when it brushed against his hand again, he noticed it was definitely not the headbutt from a snake. His eyes snapped open and he glanced down to see a fucking scorpion on his bed holy shit-

If his roommate asked if that was him that made the high pitched squeal that morning, no it wasn't.

He scrambled out of bed to look around for something to try and trap the scorpion under, but he didn't want to get near it what the fuck-

Janus paused. The scorpion was staring at him. At least, it looked like the scorpion was staring at him. It at least didn't look like it was trying to attack him.

Did... did it wave?

Now that Janus had calmed down, he noticed the scorpion was a deep, emerald green. Janus didn't know much about bugs, never had a reason to, but he never heard of a green scorpion before.

Could it be...?

"Hey, Logan?"

Footsteps came from the kitchen down the hallway.

"I was wondering when you were going to call me in," Logan said as he opened the door, his deep blue raven perched on top of his head, "What happened?"

"Can scorpions be green?"

"Why would I know that, Janus?"

"Because you know everything."

"Why are you asking?"

Janus pointed to his bed, and when Logan looked down he jumped back with a startled shout, disturbing the raven on his head.

The scorpion turned towards Logan and, yeah, the scorpion definitely waved.

After calming himself (and his bird), Logan slowly approached Janus' bed.

"...While I have heard of scorpions glowing green under ultraviolet light-"

"Oh, so you did know, you asshole-"

"I haven't seen a scorpion that looks like this, no," Logan said, crouching down next to the bed, "Is Dusa here? She was not under her heat lamp."

"Dusa? Come here, darling."

Dusa didn't crawl out of hiding, and Janus' room and the living room under her heat lamp were the only places she liked to be first thing in the morning.

"I guess she isn't."

Logan's raven, Minerva, hopped off his head onto the bed to examine the scorpion. She leaned down and the scorpion gently bumped heads. Minerva let out a happy chirp.

"My soulmate guide is a scorpion."

"Fascinating," Logan muttered as the scorpion and Minerva playfully chased each other around the bed, "I haven't heard of a bug guide before."

Janus glanced at the clock and put his hand down on the bed. The scorpion immediately ran onto his palm.

"I have class in an hour," he said as he cupped his hands and lifted the scorpion, "So how do you feel about business, corporate, and commercial law?"

 ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Remus woke up to Roman screaming. After a moment of debating whether to go back to sleep or not, he decided that, yeah, he probably should go check on the well being of his brother. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Remus trudged towards the living room to see a snake curled up on the couch, with Roman's robin perched on its head.

"Peter, please come here!" Roman pleaded. But the little bird seemed perfectly content on top of the snake. The snake started to slither off the couch, making roman shout again. The robin flew onto Roman's hand and he relaxed a bit as he held the bird to his chest.

Roman took his gaze off his brother back to the snake and- oh look at that it. It was headed towards him.

"Remus stop standing there what is wrong with you-"

The snake was around four feet long with yellow-and-black stripes. Quite gorgeous, really.

Remus decided he wanted to pick it up.

He knelt down and outstretched his arm (as Roman continued to shout at him), letting the snake crawl up and around his shoulders. The snake nuzzled its head against Remus' cheek.

Roman stared at him, eyes wide and mouth opened.

"What?"

"You're insane."

"And you're a chickenshit. You've lived with a scorpion as a roommate your whole life and you're gonna freak out over a snake guide?"

"How was I supposed to know it was a guide!?"

Remus stepped over and placed a hand on Roman's shoulder. "...You're a moron."

Roman shoved him.

"Peter was fine. And we should be expecting to find strange animals in our apartment at this age."

"Oh, piss off to find your soulmate and stop bothering me for a while."

"Gladly."

Remus turned to go back to his bedroom.

"...I'm really happy for you, you know."

Remus stopped and groaned. "Roman, no sentimental bullshit before nine."

"But I mean it. You deserve this."

"...Thanks, you idiotic bastard."

Roman gave him a gentle smile as Peter hopped onto Remus' head and nestled into his wild mess of bedhead.

"Also you screamed like a little girl."

"Fuck off-"

Remus cackled as Roman shoved him again. Peter gave Remus a petulant little peck on the top of his head.

Peter flew back over to Roman while Remus held out his arms go guide the snake in front of his face.

"Are you gonna lead me to my soulmate?" Remus asked with a large grin, which only grew wider when the snake nodded.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Janus was very much enjoying having a scorpion on his shoulder. People instinctively stepped away from him, even more so than with Dusa, meaning he didn't have to fight his way through the crowded sidewalks.

The scorpion had been upset that Janus didn't follow its directions. It scuttled frantically from one shoulder to the other. It calmed only when Janus explained he had to go to class, but would follow its directions immediately after.

Janus was stopped in his tracks, though, by a corgi running up to him and jumping on his knees.

"Hi, Peachy," Janus said as he scratched behind her ears. The scorpion crawled down his arm in curiosity.

if someone's guide was a common house pet like a dog or cat, they were issued a special white collar to show they were a soulmate guide to be allowed in public places along with service animals.

But this dog didn't have such a collar. She was just a dog.

"Hey, Janus!" someone called out. Janus looked up to see Patton jogging down the sidewalk, his guide right beside him.

"Hello, Patton. Hello, Cookie," Janus said to his friend and the capybara standing next to him.

Patton had been Logan's friend first, and Janus hadn't been too keen on his... optimistic personality at first. But dammit, the guy's too sweet.

"Miss Peachy! What have I told you about running off?" Patton said with a light scowl as he reattached her leash. But of course, unlike a guide, she couldn't actually understand. She jumped off Janus' legs to go lick the capybara's face.

Janus didn't understand the appeal of keeping animals that weren't your guide, but to each their own, he supposed.

Patton's eyes fell to Janus' shoulder, and after the instinctive fear vanished a large smile took over his face.

"Oh! You've got your soulmate guide!!"

"Yep," Janus said as he resumed walking down the sidewalk. Patton followed.

"Ohmygosh, this is so exciting!" Patton exclaimed, practically bouncing as he walked, "How long have you been out trying to find them? Do you think you're close?"

"I'm going to class, actually."

"Really? Gosh, you've got more self control than me," Patton laughed, "I don't think I'd be able to wait."

"I've got exams soon, Patton. I can't risk missing anything."

"Oh, I'm not trying to change your mind! You do what you think is best. But aren't you excited?"

Janus was convinced Patton was smiling so hard his face was going to get stuck like that. But when Janus didn't answer immediately, his frown dampened.

"Hey, are you okay, Jan?"

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, honey. You're nervous, aren't you?" Patton asked as his smile turned empathetic, which Janus thought was almost worse than excited.

The scorpion nuzzled against his neck, which was an odd sensation for sure, but Janus appreciated the sentiment.

"Of course I'm not nervous. I have no reason to be."

Patton tilted his head down slightly and gave him that look. The soft-smile dad-friend look that meant you were about to be comforted, whether you like it or not. Janus sighed.

"Okay, fine. A little," he conceded. He probably should be worried about how close that scorpion and its stinger was against his neck as it cuddled closer. But he'd never heard of a soulmate guide killing anyone, so he chose not to.

"Oh, sweetie," Patton said in that annoyingly soft tone. He wrapped an arm around Janus' and led him over to a bench. Peachy promptly hopped up to sit on Patton's lap while Cookie plopped against Patton's legs, giving Janus a soft nudge with her nose.

"It's not a big deal," Janus huffed, "I just think its reasonable to be nervous about meeting some stranger I am now expected to spend my life with."

"You have every right to feel what you're feeling. Such a big life change can be scary. But I'm certain your soulmate will understand your reservations and will go at any pace you're comfortable with."

While yes, the idea of a soulmate was a pleasant one, it was also a bit... concerning, to say the least. Janus was quite happy with where he was in life, and he wasn't too keen on the idea of something changing it all completely.

He was a bit surprised Logan wasn't his soulmate. He was the perfect roommate: neat, consistent, punctual. And Janus felt enough fondness for Logan that he was sort of expecting to wake up one day and have their guides just push them into each others' arms.

Alas, apparently not.

Janus bit his lip, debating. It would be good to talk about his worries. And as much as Janus pretended, he was actually quite fond of Patton.

"Patton, what if we don't work?"

"What do you mean, hon?"

"This person is supposedly meant to complete me. To make me better. But I'm perfectly fine the way I am now. I don't feel like I'm missing anything. What if I meet them and they just want to... to fix me? Because I'm expected to change for them?"

"Janus, your soulmate is meant to compliment you. Not complete you. You aren't missing any parts of yourself, because you're already your own complete person. And you certainly don't need to be 'fixed.'"

The scorpion crawled down to Janus' hands, and Janus ran his thumb over its back to pet it.

"But what if... what if we meet and nothing happens? Everyone always talks about their 'immediate romantic connections' but I don't buy it. What if we're doomed to always be strangers? After all, I'm not particularly good with people, Pat. What did I call you when we first met? A-"

"An annoying, self-righteous, dependent puppy with no boundaries?"

Janus winced. "Yeah. That."

A gentle smile grew on Patton's face as he held his arms out for a hug. Janus hesitated for only a moment before accepting.

"You don't need to worry about anything. Soulmates don't always mean romantic. Even if you don't feel romance at first, even if you never do, you two are going to share a tight bond and a special relationship different from anyone else you know. Nothing gets to take that from you."

"...Thank you, Patton. For taking the time to talk to me."

"Of course! What are friends for?"

Patton gave him a soft smile, and Janus gave him a rare, genuine one in return.

"Oh! I hope I didn't make you late for class!"

Janus looked at his watch. "I'll be fine if I hurry. Thank you. Again. Goodbye, Cookie. Bye, Peachy."

Peachy didn't react. Cookie gave him one last gentle nudge.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The snake in Remus' arms couldn't guide in front of him like Roman's bird would or any sort of animal with wings or legs. While he could let it slither on the ground, it would be dangerous with how busy the sidewalk was. And Remus really didn't need to return the snake to his soulmate all squished.

So it was wrapped around his shoulders, reaching down his arms, and rested in his hands, guiding him down the street like a compass.

The snake turned back to look at Remus.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked as he kept walking, the snake shaking its head urgently. Only for someone to grab the back of his jacket and yank him back, pulling him off the street and narrowly missing oncoming traffic.

"Watch where you're going, asshole," the person muttered. Remus turned, ready to start shit, but instead broke into a goofy grin when he saw Virgil.

"Hey, emo!"

Besides Roman, Virgil was Remus' only friend. Most people were too put off by Remus', well, everything.

And Virgil had been too, at first. But the two bonded over their soulmate's guides being creatures most of the public feared and the stigma that came with that. And now he was used to Remus' bullshit.

"And hey, Helena," he said to the tarantula sitting on Virgil's shoulder.

"So. You found your soulmate guide," Virgil said. The snake reached over to inspect Virgil and he scratched under its chin, the snake then nuzzling against Virgil's cheek.

"On your way to find your soulmate?" he asked as the snake and tarantula started inspecting each other.

"Yep!"

"Are you nervous?"

"Nope!"

Virgil squinted at him, searching for any sign of dishonesty, but all he saw was the normal, excitable Remus.

"Shit, you're lucky, man. I've been psyching myself out over meeting mine."

"But aren't they, like, made for you?"

"Supposedly. But you know me. I can't stop thinking about all the bad things. Like what if they don't like me?"

"Well, that would be a them problem."

Virgil let out an amused huff. "Really? You wouldn't be bothered?"

"Well, yeah," Remus said as he watched the snake and Helena play peekaboo behind Virgil's neck. "But like, it's not like I'm not used to people not liking me. And if I don't know this person, what would I lose, really? So actually, this can only go up for me."

Virgil cast him a sad smile. Remus hated it.

"It'll be good for you," Virgil said as the two crossed the street. "You are a strange fucking creature, but you're a good dude. Mostly. Partially? Mostly."

"It'll be good for you, too, then. Cause you're better than me."

Virgil nudged him with his shoulder.

"Ultimately, I know it will be. My brain just hates me."

"You and me both, emo."

The snake curled back against Remus after booping Helena and resumed its role as soulmate compass.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Remus ended up on his old school campus.

Ew.

He had dropped out, and he had hoped he would never have to step foot back here again. Oh, well, C'est la vie, or whatever the fuck.

Though you needed to swipe a student ID to unlock the doors, Remus knew if he yanked hard enough the doors would give. He had managed to make it through a whole semester without his ID after he lost it.

A grimace grew on Remus' face as he walked back into the Taylor Building for the first time in over a year. It was named after his least favorite professor, and he had a lot of bad memories in this building.

Time to find his soulmate and get the fuck out.

He was just about to head upstairs when someone shouted at him.

"Excuse me! Only students and faculty are allowed in this building."

Yeah, Remus supposed he didn't look like the typical law majors that took up a majority of the classes here. Not with his spiked leather jacket and ripped jeans. He turned to see who had yelled at him.

And speak of the devil.

"Hey, you're Taylor!"

The man straightened his shoulders.

"Yes, I am. Were you a student of mine?"

"Yeah! I hated your fuckin' guts."

The man looked like he had been slapped before a sneering look of recognition appeared on his face.

"Remus Kingsley."

"Aw, I'm flattered you remember me. Especially since I dropped out. You encouraged me to, remember? Right after you called me a, what was it, 'moronic good-for-nothing- imbecile that would never amount to anything?'"

"You need to leave immediately."

Taylor had reached out to grab Remus but he bolted up the stairs, making sure he had a tight grip on the snake.

He wasn't about to give up on his soulmate that easy.

As they ran down the upstairs hallway, Taylor continued to shout at him. But Remus wasn't worried. He was clearly much faster.

He turned to see the disheveled man chasing behind him and laughed. This was kinda fun!

Then he had to turn around and run face first into the chest of a campus officer.

Well, bitchtits.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Janus' class was nothing out of the ordinary, except that his surrounding classmates had inched as far away from this as they could, and Janus was enjoying the extra space.

The scorpion had been still on his shoulder for the most part, settling in where Janus' neck and shoulder met. But now it stood, rushing down Janus' arm to the desk and running around in circles.

"What is it?" he whispered.

Right after he asked that, shouting was heard down the hallway. The professor and students all turned their heads in time to see someone running past the door, laughing, with Professor Taylor chasing after them.

"...Okay, then," The professor said, "Now back to your review material."

Janus hardly listened as the professor spoke. He was more focused on the scorpion that kept switching between running in circles and scuttling onto Janus' hand.

When the professor dismissed the class, Janus hung back. He preferred to let the crowd of students leave before him instead of trying to fight his way through.

By the time he walked into the hallway, it was mostly empty. Janus was holding the scorpion in the palm of his hands and it jumped to get his attention. It gestured with its body to go down the hallway.

"Alright, let's go."

The scorpion led him down a couple of hallways, and Janus heard shouting and the sound of running footsteps against the tile.

A man ran around the corner, his neon green combat boots skidding on the floor as he tried to stop. He had a mustache above a wild grin, with a streak of white through his hair.

He also had Dusa wrapped around his neck.

Janus stared. The man stopped in front of him.

"Fluffy!" he said to the scorpion in Janus' hands, who was alternating between running in circles again and hopping in excitement.

He looked up at Janus with a manic grin. "Hey! I'm Remus. I'd love to stop and chat but I'm afraid I've found myself wrapped up with something."

Two campus officers rounded the corner.

What the fuck.

Janus took the scorpion - Fluffy - in one hand and held it against his chest, grabbing Remus' wrist with the other and bolting.

Remus let out a delighted laugh as he let Janus pull him down the hallway and down a set of stairs.

Jesus, what did Janus get himself into?

He was heading towards one of the student parking lots, cutting through the Union. There would be lots of students and he hoped they could get lost in the crowd. But with two idiots running across the yard with a snake and a scorpion, people were parting a path for them. Which made them more obvious but at least let them through.

When Janus looked behind him, he couldn't see the officers, but he didn't want to risk it. It wasn't exactly hard to identify them: one with a large scar on the left side of his face and the other, with, well, a lot of fucking identifiable traits.

Logan would probably get mad at him for this, but Janus was sure he would be forgiven that same day if he made Logan thumbprint cookies. So Janus let go of Remus' hand to dig in his pocket, finding the spare key to Logan's car he gave Janus only for emergencies. Janus would consider this an emergency. Logan probably would not.

Janus unlocked the car and Remus got in without question. Remus hardly stopped laughing.

Great. So his soulmate was a maniac.

Janus pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, gunning it out of there as Remus shouted in excitement.

"Fuck, yeah, dude!" he yelled. His seat-belt was not on, by the way.

"What the hell did you do?"

"Trespass, technically. But it would've been fine if that bitchass Taylor hadn't come along. And then I maybe assaulted an officer, but could it really be assault if I just whacked him when he tried to grab me? Anyways I already have three offenses - I guess four now - and I didn't want to go to jail or anything so I started running-"

"God, I'm going to miss my next class," Janus groaned, "What if they try to find me tomorrow?"

"How's your track record?"

"It's clean. Unlike someone, I don't get caught."

"Psh, then you're probably fine. you're a white law student."

Janus took a deep breath as he tried to collect his thoughts. What was even happening right now?

"...Okay, I may have fucked this up," Remus started, and he at least had the decency to sound sheepish, "I didn't mean to drag you into this mess, even though I was purposefully... searching... for you... Shit, I didn't even think about that. I don't think a lot, actually. I mean, I wasn't even paying attention on the way to find you. I almost got hit by a car. Could you imagine, Fluffy leading you to me only to find your soulmate and guide squashed by a car and our blood and guts everywhere-"

"Remus."

"Sorry, sorry," he groaned as his hands went to grab his hair, "I was really excited to meet you, and even when being chased by police my dumb brain only wanted to focus on finding you because I don't have many friends cause most people get weirded out since I can't control my thoughts or my mouth so, like, all the weird shit that pops int my brain just comes right out and I was really looking forward to meeting someone who wouldn't leave-"

"Remus, it's okay," Janus interrupted, "Deep breaths, okay?"

Remus took a couple deep breaths.

Then Janus let out a short laugh. He felt bad for laughing, but he couldn't help it.

"...What?"

"I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you. The situation just caught up to me: You're my soulmate, we just ran from the police, and we just took my friend's car and wow. Can't say this is how I expected this to go."

Remus grimaced. "Sorry."

"No, actually. This is better than the sappy shit I was thinking about."

Remus perked up a bit. "Yeah?"

"Is it always like this with you? Am I sentenced to spend my life digging you out of trouble, now?"

"Yeah, probably."

Janus laughed again as he pulled into the parking lot of a shopping center. He had no clear idea where he was going, and at least this place had plenty of people and plenty of parking. When he stopped, the scorpion hopped off his shoulder and scuttled to Remus.

"Hey, Fluffy," he said with a smile as he put the scorpion in his lap.

"Hey, actually, let's talk about that," Janus said, "You named your scorpion Fluffy?"

"Yeah. I named him that to trick people. Scared the shit out of my mom when he first showed up. 'Hey, meet Fluffy,' then I pull a scorpion out from behind my back. It never gets old."

Janus couldn't stop smiling, and he was sure his face was disgustingly close to Patton's in terms of fondness, but he couldn't do anything to help that.

"I'm Janus. The lovely lady on your shoulders is Dusa."

"Janus. That's a badass name," Remus said as he scritched Dusa under her chin.

"Thank you for your help today, Dusa," Janus said with a grin as she slithered back over to wrap around Janus, "And you, too, Fluffy."

"Fuck yeah. Thanks guys. Shit, Dusa was awesome. I'm pretty sure that while I was running, she flicked her tail to open a door and it hit one of the officers in the face."

Janus glanced down at her. "You are an enabler."

She stuck her tongue out.

"Well, since we're already here, would you like to go on a date or something? It seems like you have stories to tell," Janus said as he gestured to the mall in front of them.

"Yeah," Remus said with a fond grin, "Are you hungry? I'm starving. Wanna go to the food court. On me. We'll have to be careful, though. I'm pretty sure I'm banned from this mall."

Janus stared at him before bursting out laughing again. This was his life now, and how exciting that thought was.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to."

.

.

Thanks for reading! Requests are open in my inbox. Hope you enjoyed <3

#sanders sides #dukeceit week #janus sanders #remus sanders #dukeceit #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #platonic loceit #creativitwins #platonic moceit #platonic dukexiety #janus fic #remus fic #dukeceit fic

[matbarzyy]

How about #8 with beau ?

A/N: Don’t ask me how this turned into something so long, it just did, so I hope you’ll like it. The prompt was “I’m crying on the bathroom floor, how do you think I feel?”

Word count: 1897

Warnings: abuse (family, mentioned but not detailed, mostly just yelling)

.

You had always been convinced that Anthony Beauvillier’s niceness had to be fake. There was just something about him that you felt was… different. Something was off with him and you could never get used to having him around.

It was a bit of an issue considering he was always with Mat and Mat just happened to be dating your best friend, Sarah. No matter what you said, they always thought it was great that the two of you could hang out so that you wouldn’t be third wheeling, and at first they even hoped you’d end up together.

After months of bickering between the two of you, it was now obvious that you would never date, but you were still forced to deal with each other. Tito couldn’t be excluded from your best friend’s birthday celebrations, and neither could you.

“I’ll be right back,” you excused yourself from a conversation to go outside.

The noise of the party was too much for you tonight. As hard as you tried, you weren’t having a good time and you were truly glad that Sarah was busy with Mat and some other people for now. You had been with her all day long doing as much as possible for her to enjoy her birthday, but now you really needed a break from everyone.

You had bigger things to worry about, and you knew you were far from done with the worrying when you saw your little brother was calling you.

“Tommy, what’s wrong?” You picked up the phone instantly. You wished you could have answered like a normal person, just saying hello and asking him how he was, but with the way things were at home you knew him calling past ten pm couldn’t be good.

“Jack is yelling again,” the ten years old sniffled.

“Where’s mom?” You asked instinctively though you knew she’d do very little to help.

“He’s yelling at her,” he told you, which only relieved you a little.

“Okay, and where are you?” You continued to assess the situation as calmly as you could despite wanting to break down and cry.

“Under my bed,”

“It’s all going to be okay,” you felt tears sting your eyes despite your best efforts. “You just stay where you are, and stay really quiet, can you do that for me?”

“I’m scared,” he almost whimpered, making you wish you could instantly teleport to his side, or even better, to kick the ass of the person scaring him.

“I know baby,” you wiped your thumbs under your eyes to get rid of the tears. There was nothing you could do in this moment except help him get through it. “I’ll be there in three days, remember? I’ll come home and we can pack your things and you’ll go to this really nice school in New York and make tons of new friends,”

“I want to go now,” the little boy complained.

“I want that too. It’ll be really fast, you won’t even see time go by, okay? I bought you those spiderman bed sheets you told me about, remember those?” You held yourself together and did your best to distract him.

Tommy listened, chiming in every now and then, but you could still tell he was scared from his muffled crying and quiet sniffles. Every little sound made your heart shatter more. You remembered being in his place, scared of a man and hiding in your closet or under your bed when you were even younger than him. You remembered trying to call the police only for your mom to get angry at you after the officers had taken you back home to her. You remembered the helplessness knowing that no one would help you.

It wasn’t Jack, at the time, but the situation was the same. You believed it had stopped when Tommy was born and your mom took you away with him when he was just a baby to get you to a safer apartment. You believed he was safe when you applied to a college so far from him, you believed it would all be okay and you could come visit during holidays.

It took less than a semester for things to turn sour again, for Tom to call you crying in the middle of the night and for your mom to lie to you about her new boyfriend every time you managed to get her on the phone too. Now, the guilt of leaving was eating at you and you would do anything to fix it.

Ever since Tom’s first call, you had been saving up all you could to book a flight to take him to New York with you. Your apartment was small, but you didn’t have a roommate so you wouldn’t bother anyone by letting Tom live with you. You’d only have to sort your schedule out according to his own school times.

You weren’t in the mood to deal with the party anymore when you went back inside, but it was still going full force around you. Mat’s place was big, so there were more people than you could count and you found that far too many were gigantic hockey players as you struggled to push your way through the crowd to the bathroom.

You went straight into Mathew’s bedroom, knowing it was off limits during the party and that his attached bathroom would be quiet and unoccupied. It’s not like you hadn’t been there before, neither he or Sarah would be mad at you for hiding in there once you’d tell them why.

You hadn’t shared your family history with many people, but Sarah was the only person who knew everything about you and you had drunkenly told Mat most of the story one night when you were hanging out with the two of them.

You sobbed your heart out on the floor, splashing cold water on your face when you calmed down only to break down again minutes later and making your eyes go even redder if possible. Your makeup had been washed down the drain by now, and your top was damp from the water that had run down your neck whenever you tried to regain a bit of composure.

It was uncomfortable and you were debating just stealing some of Mat’s clothes and locking yourself in his guest bedroom for the rest of the night.

You were still sitting on the cold tiles when a sound disturbed you. It might have been Mat coming into his room, and maybe with Sarah, so you were about to push yourself up to make yourself known when the door to the bathroom was pushed open.

Anthony stood there with wide eyes when he found you, any snarky comment he could have made dying on his tongue when he saw the way you looked.

“Um, are you feeling okay?” He asked, awkwardly shuffling on his feet.

“I’m crying on the bathroom floor, how do you think I feel?” You glared at him, but you knew you probably just looked like a pathetic mess. “What are you even doing here?”

“There’s a line for the bathroom out there, I didn’t think anyone would be here,” he explained, looking back behind himself to check that no one had followed him into the room.

“Yeah well, guess I’ll remember to lock the door next time.” You scoffed, wiping your face clean of tears again while he remained there completely still. “Are you so amused by the fact that I’m having a horrible night that you’re just going to stand there and watch?”

“I’m not amused.” He shook his head, finally unfrozen. “Can I sit with you?”

“You’re joking, right?” Your voice cracked at the end of your sentence, weak from your crying, and you tried to pass it off as a cough.

“I’m not heartless, I don’t think you deserve to be alone right now.” Anthony gave you a look that told you you weren’t fooling him with your fake coughing. “I’d get Sarah but she’s probably too drunk to be any help,”

“You can sit if it’ll make you shut up,” you eventually grumbled, too tired to spend more time arguing with him.

Tito nodded and closed the door behind himself before he sat down beside you.

He did as you asked and kept his mouth shut. He could have been out there with his friends having a good time, but somehow he chose to remain by your side. You despised him a little less for that. There were better people to bring you comfort, but he was all you could get right now and you were thankful that someone was there to keep you from getting in your head even more.

“You don’t suck as much as I thought you did,” you eventually broke the silence, earning a chuckle from him.

“Thanks… I guess,” he cleared his throat. “Can I ask why you got that impression?”

“Guys that look nice and act nice are always too good to be true,”

“So you hate me because you’re attracted to me?” He turned to look at you and you gave him a disgusted look.

“I’m not attracted to you!” You exclaimed while he scoffed.

“Yeah, right,” Tito rolled his eyes, not buying your lie.

“Did I mention that you’re annoyingly cocky?” You added to prove your point, and he nodded like he had been expecting that answer.

“I guess you have now,” he waited for whatever insult you were going to throw at him next, but you turned quiet instead.

“Sorry,” you whispered after a moment.

“For what?”

“We’re not friends, and you found me crying here and stuck around instead of running away and now I’m being a bitch to you,” you pretended to pick at things in the fabric of your jeans so that you wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Doesn’t change much from the way we usually interact,” he replied and saw the way your shoulders hunched a little further. “Hey, I’m only joking,” he immediately went back on his words. He had only meant to poke you to earn another of your sassy replies.

Instead, he had made you cry again and now he didn’t know what to do. Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and placed it on your back to rub what he hoped would be soothing circles. You didn’t look at him, but you leaned into the touch and it was enough for him to pull you into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out between sobs, your voice half muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay,” Tito let you hide against his chest. “You’re the boldest person I’ve ever met, and you’re brilliant. There’s nothing in this world you can’t handle,” he ran his hand up and down your back, feeling you slowly settle against him. “Whatever is going on, I know you’re going to make it all okay eventually,”

“It’s scary,” you admitted through a whisper, and Tito hugged you tighter.

“You’re safe here.”

“I know,” you breathed out, relaxing into his arms and letting your eyes fall shut as you focused on the sound of his heartbeat.

There was a lot left for you to do before things could be okay, but in that moment in Anthony’s arms you were safe, and you knew you would get there.

.

Please reblog and let me know what you thought!!

taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added/removed): @itrocksmysocks @kerwritesthings @pupsandpucks @barzysreputation @whythough1319 @smit41 @glassdanse @fiveholegoal @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @thefootballfaithfull @calgarycanuck @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls

#tw #tw:abuse #anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier #anthony beauvillier fic #anthony beauvillier angst #tito beauvillier fic #tito beauvillier angst #nhl fic #hockey fic #ny isles #new york islanders

[peepeepotter]

Hogwarts: New Girl AU

A/N: Warning, some canonical changes were made for plot reasons, the biggest being: Harry and Ginny never dated; Harry, Neville, and Draco are all professors; George has a new WWW store in Hogsmeade. Also, she starts off living with the four guys whereas in New Girl she only lived with all four for about a season. I just thought it would be fun!! Also, when I wrote this it felt a lot longer than it ended up being—so let me know if this is too long or too short or just right!! P.S.: I do NOT condone transphobia (I’m LGBT and will defend trans people until the day I die) and obviously I feel JKR is a shitty person, I write because I like writing and we’ll all agree that 5 year old Daniel Radcliffe wrote the HP series :)

Chapter 1: Who’s That Girl?

Pairing: George x Female Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Words: 3k

Series Masterlist

-

“So, you know in horror movies when the girls are like "Oh my god, there's something in the basement. Let me just run down there in my underwear and see what's going on in the dark", and you're like "What is your problem? Call the aurors!", and she's like "Okay" but it's too late because she's already getting avada kedavra’d. Well, my story's kind of like that.” y/n said, remembering the borderline traumatic moment that happened two weeks ago.

-

Y/N sat in the back of a muggle taxi, on her way to her shared apartment with her boyfriend Cormac McLaggen. Only, incredibly uncomfortably, she was completely naked under a trench coat.

“It’s a surprise for Cormac. I’m just gonna walk in and drop my coat, like BAM. There it all is. He said he has this fantasy that I’m a veela with a heart of gold.” Y/N attempted to whisper into the phone speaker.

“You added the ‘heart of gold’ thing, didn’t you?” Ginny asked, chuckling and knowing full well that McLaggen wasn’t exactly a thoughtful person, and wouldn’t have included that in a sexual fantasy.

“Yeah. I wanted to really get into the character, you know?” Y/N tried to get into the fantasy more, hoping it would make her less uncomfortable.

“Oh really? What’s your veela name?”

“Uh...Fleur?”

“That ones taken, Y/N.”

“Whatever, I don’t need a veela name.”

“Either way, I’m so proud of you for getting out of your comfort zone! Good luck babe.” Ginny encouraged.

As Y/N walked into the apartment, she was trying to position herself sexily in the living room. She laid on her side on the couch. Too cliché. She propped herself on the back of the couch. Too masculine. Eventually Cormac entered the living room from the bedroom wearing only his boxers, making Y/N panic about the fantasy.

“Y/N! You’re back early! I wasn’t expecting you—“

Y/N dropped the trench coat. Immediately after a girl, Pansy Parkinson she recognized, followed McLaggen out of the bedroom. Their bedroom. And she was only wearing her underwear.

“Oh.”

-

“So that’s what happened and why I really need a new place to live. Anyway...what was the question?” Y/N smiled at the four men in front of her. They all looked traumatized by her story.

“Um, do you have any pets?” George asked.

“Oh, no I don’t. Sorry,” She chuckled awkwardly.

“You know what’s funny? When I saw your ad on DumbledoresList I thought you were women.” Y/N laughed. “Crazy, right?”

“Hold up, why would you think that?” Draco spoke before the other two could.

“Just some of the vocabulary used. Like sun-soaked and exposed brick daydream.”

“Draco you wrote exposed brick daydream? Oh my god,” George was nearly in tears with laughter, Harry and Neville following quickly. “Jar, right now, dude.”

“Yeah, jar, seriously. Five galleons.” Harry agreed, pointing to a jar on the mantle of he fireplace with a neon green post-it note labeled “Prick Jar.”

Draco rolled his eyes, getting up and putting the galleons in the jar.

Y/N coughed, trying to refocus the attention. “Look, I really like this apartment. I also really don’t want to live with my friend anymore. She’s a quidditch player...all her friends and roommates are quidditch players. They get into some real weird shit.” Y/N felt like she was pleading with them. Just let me stay here!

“Look I still don’t feel like we know enough—” George was interrupted by Draco.

“Oh, quidditch players? When can you move in?” Y/N grinned, hoping the promise of these three men meeting hot quidditch players would help.

“No, no, loft meeting. Bathroom.” Harry ordered, leading the way down the long hall to the bathroom at the end. When Y/N heard the door shut she quickly and silently followed, eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Come ON guys, she’s friends with quidditch players. Next to veela’s and the girls at Beauxbaton, that’s like the hottest girls in existence.” Draco begged the other two.

“The fact that you’re a professor now and you said that is like...incredibly disturbing.” Harry glared at Draco, George and Neville shaking their heads.

“Yeah, and my sister is a quidditch player so I don’t know about that.” George shuddered.

“I’m not going to lie to you guys, I don’t want a girl living here. Sometimes, I get home from a long day of teaching and I just want to strip and lay on the couch. Let the boys chill.” Harry casually shared. Y/N gagged at the thought, but the other three men in the bathroom made noises of agreement, or at least understandment of his statement.

“I am...actually neutral on this one.” Neville shrugged, causing Draco to scoff.

“You would be neutral on this.” Draco rolled his eyes, but directed his attention toward their fourth roommate. “Alright George, tie-breaker. It’s up to you. Is she in or out?”

“You guys know I don’t do well under pressure like this. Just give me a minute let me think.”

Both Harry and Draco started arguing with each other, putting George under more pressure to make a decision. He slowly backed himself into the stall in the bathroom and locked it. Neville watched everything play out, arms crossed with a smile on his face.

“Oh, now look what you’ve done!” Draco said, gesturing to the hiding George.

“What I’ve done! You started it—” Harry replied.

“Whatever, executive decision—she’s in.” Draco announced.

“YAY! I’m in!” Y/N exclaimed, not able to contain her excitement on the other side of the bathroom door. Draco opened the bathroom door.

“Nobody decided putting a silencing charm on the door would be a good idea?” Harry asked the boys in the bathroom.

“Oh you guys have a stall and urinals? Like a public bathroom? Okay, yeah I guess I can get used to that.” Y/N said, looking around the bathroom that reminded her a little too much of the bathrooms at Hogwarts.

“What do you do for a living anyway? Why do you want to live out here in Hogsmeade?” Draco asked as the group of five made their way back to the living room.

“I just became a professor at Hogwarts! I spent a really long time in both the muggle world and the magical world studying creatures. So, I’m taking over for Hagrid.” Y/N smiled, very excited to be doing her two favorite things in the world: working with animals, and teaching bright young minds.

“Oh, Harry, Neville and I are professors at Hogwarts too. I teach potions, Neville teaches herbology, and Harry teaches...Harry what fucking subject do you teach?” Draco crooked an eyebrow at Harry, purposely acting like he didn’t know what Harry taught.

“Defense against the dark arts.” Harry glared at Draco. “And George here just opened a new Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes shop in Hogsmeade.” Harry said, clapping George’s back. George sheepishly smiled at Y/N.

“Oh that’s awesome! I loved pranks at Ilvermorny. Cormac hated pranks.” Y/N started to tear up, staring off into space.

“George gets it, he was dumped, too.” Draco took his turn to clap his hand on George’s back this time.

“Yeah. Dumped,” George scoffed.

-

“George I just can’t do this anymore!” Angelina pleaded with George as he covered his ears, despite only the one really working.

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU! WE CAN’T BREAK UP IF I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” George yelled.

-

“Yeah, I was dumped.” George shrugged. “What about it? It was like eight months ago Draco! Move past it. Pfft, dumped.” George got very heated over...seemingly very little, Y/N noticed.

“Ignore him, he’s still fragile. Which, you aren’t too fragile, right?” Draco asked.

“Pfft. I’m so tough. Don’t even worry about it.”

-

“We’ll always have Paris. We didn’t have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night. … And you never will. But I’ve got a job to do, too. Where I’m going, you can’t follow. What I’ve got to do, you can’t be any part of.” Y/N was screaming the words of the monologue from Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca at the television, the four men staring at her from the kitchen.

“Feel like we’ve made a mistake yet?” Harry asked Draco, who rolled his eyes and approached Y/N.

“Y/N, stop.” Draco turned the television off. “C’mon, you can’t be like this! You’re a strong woman! Strong women don’t cry over men who clearly didn’t deserve them in the first place! Strong women go out and hook up with strangers in the bar in Hogsmeade to get over their ain’t-shit exes.” Draco pulled Y/N up from off the couch. “Go take a shower. We’re going to the Three Broomsticks tonight and you’re hooking up with someone.” Draco pushed her in the direction of the bathroom.

“And that gentleman is how you take care of a crying woman. Not that any of you know how to handle women at all.” Draco snipped at the three men, who—to be fair—did not know how to deal with women at all.

-

At the Three Broomsticks, the four men watched Y/N absolutely fail at flirting with any even remotely viable man in the bar. Eventually Draco called her back over to the booth where the four men drank and talked about their days.

“Honey, you’ve got to stop doing whatever it is you were doing out there. In fact, you’re going to stop doing anything. You are going to go sit at the bar and look pretty until a man approaches you, and then you are going to smile and nod and agree to go out with him.” Draco nagged. The three other men were chuckling quietly as Y/N trudged to the bar, hoping for men to approach her.

“Anyway, what is this shit we’re chaperoning on Friday night?” Draco turned to Neville and Harry, hoping one of the two would know.

“I think it’s a school dance but like...not fun for the kids at all. Like I don’t think there’s actually any dancing at all.” Harry summed, confused as well. None of them had ever been to muggle high school, and did not understand what a “homecoming” dance was. The Muggle Studies professor suggested it might be fun for the first Friday back to school, and McGonagall agreed as long as the kids didn’t have too much contact on the dance floor. The Muggle Studies teacher explained to the three men that it was “middle school rules, no touching below the shoulders, room for Merlin in the middle.” if dancing were to be allowed. Neville, Harry, and Draco were clueless as to what that meant.

“Glad I won’t be in on that shit show.” George laughed, taking a sip of his drink.

“We actually signed you up.” Draco said nonchalantly, drinking his beer. George spat his beer out violently.

“Excuse me? I have to spend my Friday night watching a bunch of kids...do what? Drink butterbeer and sit on opposite ends of a room?!” George was clearly pissed off, wanting to have done literally anything else with his Friday night.

“I mean, you’ll see your brother.” Harry offered, which actually eased George’s tensions a bit. He smiled, missing his family.

“Oh, alright. Harry, you charmer, you always know how to get me.” George winked at Harry who waved him off.

“How are things going with you and uh...Loony?” Draco asked Neville. The three other men rolled their eyes, annoyed at how Draco still seemed to live in his own little world.

“Luna. And things are going...they’re going.” Neville shrugged, clueless to his own love life.

“Just as expected, he doesn’t know anything.” Draco shook his head at George and Harry, as if Neville’s cluelessness was their fault.

“Are you blaming—” Before Harry could finish accusing Draco of exactly what Draco was doing, Y/N came back from the bar, squealing about getting a date.

“What did you do?” Draco asked, smirking, just knowing he was right.

“I did what you said! I just smiled and nodded and said I wanted to hookup and he gave me his number and now we’re going out Friday night!” Y/N jumped up and down in tiny jumps, starting to fist-pump.

“This American is so weird sometimes.” Harry whispered.

“It’s endearing, I think.” Neville commented.

“Naive, maybe.” George rolled his eyes, the only one who seemed to notice that she blatantly told the man she would have sex with him.

-

When the night of her date rolled around, the four men found themselves with an unexpected floo guest.

“Ginny, what are you doing—” George stood.

“Who told her it was a good idea to get back out there again? That’s not your job, that’s my job. I’m her best friend, you guys are just some weird adult men living together. No offense brother, dear.” Ginny was in the living room, pointing an accusing finger at the men sat on the couch while Y/N was in her bedroom getting ready. Ginny was clearly ready to go out clubbing for the night, and was dressed in a short dress and very tall heels.

“None taken.” George rolled his eyes, plopping himself back on the couch.

“Now I’m going to go handle the mess you all created, thank you very much.” Ginny glared, walking over to Y/N’s room and walking in.

Y/N laid on the ground surrounded by clothes. Her hair and makeup was clearly done, but she seemed stumped on what to wear. She was currently wearing a witch hat, a crop top, sweatpants, and cowgirl boots.

“Y/N,” Ginny sighed. “What were you going for with this?” Ginny gestured up and down Y/N’s body.

“Witchy space cowgirl.” Y/N shrugged. “It seems like something you’d find in a porn anyway—”

“Here, let’s find you clothes that will actually get you laid.”

After about half an hour, Ginny emerged from Y/N’s room first, dressed in a crop top and sweatpants.

“Now presenting, the new but not improved, still absolutely perfect Y/N.” Ginny gestured towards Y/N’s bedroom, where Y/N emerged. She was wearing the short black sleeveless dress and tall heels Ginny had been wearing when she emerged from the floo. Draco let out a whistle, Harry and Neville started clapping, and George was sat, stunned. Well, until Y/N started fist pumping again, then they all started booing her.

“Don’t let me keep you guys, I know you have plans with a bunch of 11 to 17 year olds tonight.” Y/N giggled, watching as the men stood up at the reminder.

“Don’t worry, we’d rather be anywhere else. Even here watching your weird dancing.” Draco puffed, the other men agreeing.

-

“So yeah, that’s how we got a new roommate.” George explained to Fred, who’s hazy, ghostly form nodded.

“Believe it or not, I actually know her. I was her first friend here.” Fred grinned, pointing to himself. George wasn’t surprised. Ever since Fred died and became a ghost, Fred frequently felt lonely, and George knew that. Besides Peeves, he really didn’t have many friends. He couldn’t interrupt teachers while they were teaching, but since Care for Magical Creatures was not a required class, Y/N had a lot of free time. They bonded over pranks, baked goods, and George. “She’s so cute! You totally would’ve dated her a decade ago.” Fred teased his younger twin.

“Yeah, well, things change I guess.” George felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, and looked at the caller ID to find it as Madam Puddifoot’s store number. “One second.” He told his brother. “Madam Puddifoot?” George asked.

“George dearie, your friend Y/N here was stood up by her date. I figured someone should know, she’s in my shop crying and I have to close in,” she paused, clearly checking the time. “In a half hour. Do you think you could help?” George stood, already walking towards the school’s exit.

-

“Oh hello there.” Y/N sniffled, eyes red and puffy as she looked up to see George taking a seat in front of her. “Don’t you have a school dance you’re supposed to be chaperoning.” She furrowed her eyebrows, pointing a finger at him. She meant for it to be accusatory, but with red puffy eyes, George mostly found it (as Neville said) endearing.

“Some things are more important than watching boys and girls stand on opposite ends of a room.” He shrugged, reaching across the table and grabbing his friends hand. “Listen, real men don’t treat women the way you’ve been treated the past few weeks. I’m sorry you’re going through this. If it makes you feel better, sometimes I still call my ex and leave voicemails in a country accent.” George offered, making Y/N giggled, wiping lone tears.

“Well, you can always call me and talk to me in a country accent instead.” She shrugged, in an attempt to help him the way he’s come to help her. “Do you want to go home and watch—”

“Literally anything other than Casablanca, okay? I will watch whatever sad chick flick you want, but you have watched Casablanca like twenty times this week.” George puffed, standing up and reaching his hand out for Y/N. “Let’s go home and get drunk and cry.” He smiled. Y/N grinned, grabbing his hand and letting him walk her out of the shop. She was still embarrassed, but her heart felt a lot better knowing someone came to help her out of this feeling. She’d never admit it to George, but it was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her.

-

When Draco, Neville, and Harry returned home, their suit jackets thrown over their shoulders and looking rather tired from dealing with teenagers all night, they found quite the sight for their sore eyes. George and Y/N were stood in front of the TV, clearly drunk, singing along to Heath Ledger’s character serenading Julia Stiles character in 10 Things I Hate About You. Draco, Neville, and Harry all looked at each other, shrugging. They dropped their suit coats and joined in, feeding the fire that was drunken George and Y/N.

And that was the end to Y/N’s first week in the loft above the Weasley’s Wizards Wheezes store in Hogsmeade.

Taglist: @yllwtaxi @ememseay

Thank you for wanting to be tagged!! Let me know what you think, feel free to message me any mistakes I missed. If you want to be tagged, message me/comment!! Thanks y’all :)

#fred x reader #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley #fred and george #harry potter x y/n #harry potter au #draco fanfiction #draco x y/n #draco x reader #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom #neville x y/n #neville x luna #harry potter x ginny weasley #ron weasley #ron x hermione #ron weasly imagine #ginny x luna #harry x hermione #hermoine x pansy #dramione #hogwarts #new girl au #new girl

[julyarchives]

Impulsive || (m) Teach Me pt.3

A lot of things go through your head when you think about your relationship with Wooseok, and so you feel very conflicted. You two can’t help but go for each other every time you are together, but where will that lead you two?

→ Pairing: Wooseok x Reader

→ Genre: Smut

→ Words:  1.9K

→ Contains: Smut; Friends To Lovers; Oral Sex (female recieving); Fingering; Masturbation; 

→ A/n: To celebrate our birthday boy, here’s part 3 of Teach me! You guys seems to like it a lot, so this is coming together as a series, so hopefully we will see more of this cute couple on the future!

→ Index:  Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, part 4

Three days went by since your and Wooseok’s meeting in the cupboard under the stairs and your fun together afterward. You did stop by his room after everyone cleared the living room and well, things did get interesting. But since nothing is perfect, especially with him, he had an early morning and the whole week busy so you didn’t get to see him anymore. 

It was a weird feeling for you to actually miss him since all you did was fool around with hands and mouths a couple of times. But he was also your best friend so you missed his company whatsoever. The strange feeling was how missing him now accompanied memories of his mouth and the ways you two pleased each other. You scoffed at yourself and went back to making dinner since you promised you’d make your signature dish for the boys this night. 

The peace and quiet of the house were soon replaced by the loud noises they made as they got inside, all of them passing by the kitchen to greet you and compliment the smell of your food. Thankfully you were finishing it enough to give them time to shower and gather to have dinner. As everyone went to their shared rooms, Wooseok stayed back and awkwardly stood by the door, slightly scratching his neck in embarrassment. 

“So, Y/N… Will… will you stay the night?”, he was blushing and suddenly you felt your cheeks hotter. You wished he was implying something.

“I don’t know yet, maybe”, you smiled and turned back to your food. “Go shower so we can have dinner”, you said firmly. 

You didn’t hear him leaving but you certainly heard everyone coming down for dinner as you finished setting the table. The dinner was light and fun, even if they were all very tired. Their presence was soothing to you who was actually quite lonely at your place when they had to leave for work or worse, touring.

The boys were adamant about cleaning everything up for you and you stayed on the couch trying to hear the conversation, which was not hard since they almost screamed at each other just by talking. Unfortunately for you, that meant that you heard something you truly didn’t want to.

“Soo, Wooseokie, what about that girl you spoke to today”, you heard the leader say.

“What about her?”, he seemed nervous and somehow that made you nervous as well.

“She was pretty cute, wasn’t she?”, leave it to the sleazy maknae to make a comment like that, you almost huffed at Kino from the couch.

“You’re gonna ask her out?”, Shinwon said excitedly and everyone let out an “oooh” sound that made your blood boil. Why do that few days later of shoving you and Wooseok inside the cupboard? 

The subject changed without an answer from him and you promptly shoved the memory of this conversation in the back of your head, you certainly did not want to deal with any sort of feelings now. To your luck, moments later the boys came back after finishing with the kitchen and quickly said their goodbyes to you so they could sleep. You didn’t even bother to say anything directly at your occasional roommate and just announced you’d be by the living room watching a movie. 

Many thoughts and questions filled your head as the house fell silent and the movie started. It was a cheesy rom-com movie and you made your best attempt to focus on it, even if it was on the minimum volume. You’d cringe at every cheesy line, especially the seductive ones, but managed to have fun and forget about that conversation. That was until half of it when the stairs cracked and you jumped up, meeting a doe-eyed Wooseok frozen on it. You smiled and waved, that being the sign for him to come down completely. 

As he went to the kitchen, you followed and closed the door behind you so your voices wouldn’t disturb the guys. You hoped on the counter as he got a few leftovers from dinner and quietly heated it. Your insides were shaking and you could see he seemed torn. The hum from the microwave filled the awkward silence and you felt more and more confused about his actions. When the electronic sounded the finishing alarm it seemed like that was Wooseok’s trigger.

He turned around abruptly and walked towards you with a serious face. You barely had time to react as he held your face with both hands and kissed you hard. Your hands pulled on his shirt and quickly the kiss became open-mouthed and heated, tongues meetings halfway and even some teeth clashing but it was an amazing kiss nonetheless. You remembered his previous reactions and lightly pulled his hair, earning a grunt from him and a very hard grip on your waist. 

The make-out itself was pretty hot to you and soon enough your core felt wet and you felt bothered by how his hands stopped at your waist. His back was a perfect canvas for your nails to claw onto, his thin cotton white shirt making it all too easy. When you parted, you two couldn’t break eye contact and you only did so when he bit his lip slowly, carefully moving you to the edge of the counter and grinding on you just as slowly. You gasped at the feeling and so did he, who wordlessly started to the nib and kiss your neck, hands finally reaching for your thighs.

Your patience was hitting its limits and you whispered a little “please” while placing his hand on your core through your pants. Wooseok moaned at that, caressing you immediately, his mouth now biting your neck. When his other hand squeezed your breast, almost on cue, the microwave hummed loudly as if to remember it was still on. Wooseok jumped back and muttered a few words that sounded like “my food”, getting the plate out of the machine and looking at you, almost lost.

After a few seconds of deliberation, he placed the plate back in the fridge. He smiled at you, almost innocently.

“I guess I don’t need dinner again, right?”, he chuckled.

“Well, since you said so. What do you want for breakfast, baby?”, you said in a mental lapse, thinking too quickly back to the cheesy movie you were watching. 

“…what? Why are you asking me about breakfast at 11 p.m., Y/N?”, the poor guy sounded so confused that you wanted to facepalm yourself but choose to go to the end with the cheesy line and rubbed yourself through your pants, closing your eyes at how good it felt. “Oh”.

You two stared at each other for seconds in silence before bursting out laughing. You jumped out of the counter and he took your hand right away, laughter dying down as he opened the kitchen door and almost dragged you upstairs to his room. When he closed the door, he pulled you close by the waist, one hand caressing your face before kissing you almost tenderly. Your hands caressed his chest and back, stopping at his arms and grabbing them for support as your legs trembled at how intimate it felt.

“Can we go to the bed?”, Wooseok asked uncertainly, almost as if he had never touched you before. 

You nodded and laid down sideways, he was quick to follow, and soon you two were facing each other. The room was almost dark, a faint light making it possible to see him. His hand traced your side gently and your hand caressed his hair, making him close his eyes at the sensation.

“I want to taste you again”, he said in a shaky breath, “it’s all I’ve been thinking about”. 

“Shit”, his eyes were still closed, biting his lip again. You couldn’t stop staring. “Please do”.

Wooseok untangled from you and moved down on the bed to reach you. He pulled your pants and panties too quick and that showed how desperate he was, that thought made you smile even in your current position. The lack of foreplay didn’t even bother you like his kisses and need for you got you wet in no time. The notion of him being this desperate for you and knowing you were the one who guided him in his first time tasting someone made you feel almost smug. It got stronger when you looked down and saw his dark eyes staring at your intimacy with hunger and fingers greedily squeezing your thighs.

The first touch of his tongue on your clit got you moaning and squirming, which encouraged him to keep going even faster, lapping at you with want. His hair felt soft in your hands and with every pull, you vibrated with his moans. It was hot in every sense and you could only take off the rest of your clothes to grab at your breasts yourself, the pleasure being too good. His long fingers found your entrance and with no hesitation, he got two in, not even giving time to adjust before pumping them in and out of you. 

Everything felt too much, his ability to breathe through his nose coming in handy as he ate you out nonstop, and you almost laughed at how you thanked him mentally for being a rapper in your mind. Suddenly, he pulled out, earning a whine from you. Wooseok smirked at that, the puppy eyes now giving room to a very malicious face. He took his shirt off and got up to get the rest off. It was time enough for your fingers to take his place and massage your clit. 

You were close and you knew it but you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching your peak. Wooseok grunted at the sight and quickly slapped your hand away and got back to his position, now instead of fingering you, he was pumping his member fast, way too fast. You had to cover your mouth with his pillow in order to not make a sound as he flicked his tongue perfectly, the sounds his hand was making only increased your horny state. A strong wave of pleasure washed through you and you managed to breathe out a few words before biting your lip enough to draw blood.

“Come with me, Wooseok!”, as all you could say and it worked, his movements with his tongue got messier and you felt the bed move with his hips pushing down on it, fucking his own fist and making his own orgasm last. 

You two moved together until it ended, his slender body embracing you quickly and laying his head on the swell of your breasts. He took in a deep breath, making you laugh at how ticklish you felt. Wooseok stared at you with so much intensity that you almost looked away but he didn’t let you as he came down to kiss you once again. You didn’t even mind his mouth and chin covered in your juices as you two made out.

He didn’t have to say anything to you as he got up and took an old shirt of his from the closet and handed it to you. You put it on just as quietly, your mind a storm of feelings and you got comfortable to sleep with him once again. Wooseok was too quiet as he cleaned everything up, including you, very gently, which was out of character, and laying down next to you again. You reached to him and gave him a peck on the lips, watching him smile softly with his eyes closed. Just like that, he was asleep, his tiring agenda getting the best out of him. You went to sleep soon after, after too many thoughts, and the feeling that you were fucked overpowered every other. Well, maybe not how your heart raced when you thought of a certain tall funny boy…

#ksmutclub #wooseok #smut #wooseok x reader #wooseok smut #jung wooseok #pentagon wooseok #pentagon #pentagon smut #kpop #kpop smut #kpop imagine #pentagon kpop #wooseok pentagon #pentagon imagine

[pearl-blue-musings]

Not Alone Shinsou x fem!reader x Kaminari

Hi

This is incredibly self indulgent and absolutely terrible in terms of my writing because i was really going through it (still am but we’re not gonna talk about it)

However I must say, as someone who has anxiety, depression, and body image issues you’re not alone. I know I’m awful at talking about my own feelings, but please feel free to open up to a friend, me, or anyone you trust. This stuff is disheartening to go through alone and I’m with you.

Pairing: Prohero!Shinsou Hitoshi x fem!reader x Prohero!Kaminari Denki

Warnings: anxiety, depression, body dysmorphia, body image issues, feeling overwhelmed, shitty writing

As always minors dni

It was later than you had expected when you returned to your apartment. You quietly shut the door behind you as you remove your shoes, as to not wake up or disturb your roommates. It’s not every day you get to share an apartment with two well known heroes. You were aware of their crazy and sometimes unpredictable schedules, but shockingly they both had today off. And since you’re their respectful roommate, you wanted them to rest as much as they could.

You could have sworn the two of them were dating with how close they acted, but that didn’t prevent you from crushing on the both of them. You did your best to hide your feelings from them to the point you were just hurting yourself so they could be happy and blissfully unaware. It was better that way, you were just their civilian roommate who made their own apartment less expensive. That’s all you were.

So it didn’t matter that you came back from your high school reunion in tears and full of shame.

Shinsou knew you were going to be coming back late but wasn’t aware how late. He did offer to join you, knowing how those kind of events can be to keep you company. Not just because he’s your roommate, but somehow he had grown to care for you; and he picked up on his first roommate catching feels for you too.

They were a strange pair, Shinsou had to admit. He didn’t think he’d be rooming with the eclectic blond but here he his. Personally, Shinsou thinks his higher ranked friend fell for you first; love at first sight most likely. Denki will deny it to the purple eyed man whenever you’re not around, but Shinsou knows better. They’ve been friends for years, roommates for over a year so he’s fairly sure he knows Denki well enough. However, one thing was abundantly clear to the pair of friends, things haven’t been the same between them since you moved in.

Maybe it was petty jealousy between the two men when it came to you, but they would always try their best around you. So when you had told them you were going to a high school reunion of sorts the both of them offered to accompany you. You had turned them down, opting to go alone considering you knew it was their day off. You couldn’t do that to them. Your rejection had hurt them in a way they didn’t think was possible. Once you were gone they had a brief conversation about it.

“Shinsou we’ve been friends a long time and I just wanna say-“

“I have feelings for her too.”

Denki blinks at him, words and breath stolen from him. “Well, yeah I could tell! So why don’t you just go for it,” the blond adds on as his voice tapers off.

Shinsou rolls his eyes. “Idiot, I know you like her too. That’s why I haven’t done anything.”

A hearty laugh leaves the blonds lips as he shakes his head. “Look at the two of us, falling for the same girl. Who would have guessed?”

The look in his bright gold eyes stirs something in Shinsou that he’s acknowledging for the first time. Is this the way you see Denki? He would never admit it, but there’s something about the dynamic between the three of you that just works. You’re not only a great roommate, but an incredible friend. You always listen to their hero woes and they lend an ear to issues with your profession. Groceries, chores, everything was always evenly divided; everyone helped everyone. It all just fit.

“I guess we both just have good taste.”

The two of them spent the day lazing around, playing video games, and put on a movie until you got back. Both males were eager to talk to you upon your return and did their best to stay up for you. Unfortunately, both men fell asleep in Shinsou’s room watching a movie, the blond resting on the other’s shoulder.

Denki woke up to the sound of shuffling around the apartment. He noticed Shinsou was still sleeping and the look of peace on his face made Denki’s heart race. He slowly removes himself from the sleep deprived man and decides to go greet you.

He slowly walks out of the room and heads toward the living room where he thinks you are, but all he sees are your purse and coat dropped on the couch haphazardly. That’s very unlike you. If you went to your room he would have heard you, where could you be?

That’s when he hears it.

You were confident your two heroic and very attractive roommates were asleep when you rushed into the bathroom sobbing. The words and looks your former friends wouldn’t stop swimming and swirling around in your mind. You did your best to shut out their slander and lies but it was no use.

You were too ugly.

Your body had changed for the worst.

No one will love you.

You were lucky to have been with someone in high school.

It all wouldn’t stop. You knew were taking a risk wearing your confident and favorite outfit, but that was torn to shreds from their sharp tongues. Your eyes meet yours in the mirror as your body morphs right in front of your eyes. Gone was the confident woman from five hours ago. All that’s left is a broken lonely nobody who even her roommates wouldn’t want to look at.

Sobs racked your body as you grip the sink for leverage. Tears fall freely, messing up your make up –what’s the point really?- as your body shakes with your cries. You want to punch the mirror in front of you, rip off the clothes and burn them, pick and scratch at yourself until you become the desirable person you want to be. You want it all to stop, why can’t you look better? Why do you look the way you do ?Why aren’t you prettier? Why, why, why why –

“(Y/n)! Hey, hey it’s me!”

Your eyes shoot open as you look in the mirror and see your blond roommate staring at you. You feel your heart drop at the sight of him and his shocked expression. He reaches out but you brush him off. “Don’t touch me,” your voice betraying you as it cracks. You try to push past him, but he’s unmovable.

“Sunshine, what happened? I’ve never seen you like this, talk to me! Don’t make me wake up Shinsou.”

Your lip trembles at his empty but truthful threat. Your flight or fight kicks in as your mind racks up new thoughts.

He’s just saying that.

He doesn’t actually care.

Neither of them do.

You’re just their ugly roommate.

You do a slight combination of both. You attempt to escape the bathroom while pushing through Denki. He grabs onto your arms lightly to hold you in place, causing the two of you to bump into the door frame.

You shake out, “let me go.”

He only holds on tighter. “Not an option! I’m not letting you go until you stop crying.”

“Denki,” you almost wail, fresh tears falling, “let me pass! Please!”

The way you said please struck something in the blond, and he hesitantly lets you go. Only for you to ram into Shinsou’s chest.

You look up into his lavender eyes and close yours tight. “No please not you too.”

Shinsou glances between you and Denki, trying to get a read on the situation. “What exactly is going on?” Looking at Denki he squints his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Me?! I found her like this! Why would I make her cry?”

“Because you’re impulsive,” Shinsou deadpans. He ignores the blonds scoff and turns his focus to you. With your arms crossed, your nails are digging into your skin. He calmly places a hand on your shoulder and leaves it there despite your tiny flinch. He guides the two of you to sit against the wall adjacent to the bathroom door. “What happened, kitty cat? I need you to uncross your arms and breathe, okay?”

You reluctantly agree and unfold your arms. This gives both guys a better look at you and your frazzled state. Denki sits to your right, taking your hand in his and he begins to rub calming circles on the back of your hand. You want to pull back but it feels too comforting. Shinsou stays in front of you, making sure that you’re breathing slower. Your voice cracks as you begin to speak.

“I shouldn’t have gone to the reunion. I, I had those thoughts again but they were so much worse and I just,” you couldn’t finish your sentence as you began to cry again, tired and defeated. You feel Denki squeeze your hand and pull your head to lay on his shoulder while Shinsou rubs your knees affectionately. The soft and caring touches calms you down to regulate your breathing. This isn’t the first time your anxiety and body dysmorphia decided to work in tandem but it’s the first time it’s gotten to this low. And whenever it would get to the point of you shaking, either one of them would be nearby to help you. Having them both here was something you didn’t realize you had been needing. It was nice, it was ideal.

The blond next to you nudges your side and makes you look at him directly. “I know you struggle with your image. But you should know, I think you’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met. Shinsou thinks so too!”

You spare a glance at your other roommate who’s holding his neck now, visibly embarrassed. His deep purple eyes meet yours and you already know that Denki is telling the truth. A truth you didn’t think would be possible and struggle to believe, but a truth nonetheless. You crack a smile at your roommates and your heart warms, if only for a moment. This doesn’t solve everything, but it does help in the present.

Shinsou returns to caressing your legs carefully before starting to get up. “C’mon kitten, take my hand. I think it’s time we go to bed.”

“Uh, we?”

You feel Denki nod as he pulls you to stand up. “Yes we,” he says soothingly, “you should know Shinsou here is a great cuddler.”

That makes your heart sink as you take their hands. The blond is quick to see your demeanor change and switches holding your hand to holding your cheek. “What did you just think? And I know it wasn’t anything good.”

You can’t help but lean into his touch, but the anxiety at what you’re about to say begins to overwhelm you. So you were torn at opening up right now, but brave it anyways; gotta start somewhere. “The, the two of you. I don’t wanna interrupt anything you have going on. I’d be a bother – “

Your words are silenced as you feel a warm pair lips on yours. When your eyes open you are met with sharp golden ones staring into your very being. “(Y/n) listen to me. Well first, we’re not dating, I mean not yet anyways.” He pauses to grin at the two of you and you catch Shinsou roll his eyes. “But we both want to be with you. We both care about you and want to always be there for you on your down days. Being strong every day is hard and we’ve seen it! Just, we want you to see you the way we see you!”

His excitable aura is infectious as a genuine smile adorns your face. You meet his gaze and his face is beaming. The electric blond goes to hold your hand again but his hand is pushed away by his friend. “What gives? I just wanna hold her hand, you can’t have both!”

Shinsou rumbles out, “you’ve already kissed her. I at least want a turn.” He cups your face and presses a chaste kiss on your lips. He pulls away almost hesitantly before he continues. “And a chance to say that we discussed some stuff after Denki was jealous you wanted to go on your own.”

“You were jealous and upset too!”

“Minor details,” Shinsou scoffs out, “but we both have strong and genuine feelings for you. And strangely enough it turns out the feelings between all three of us are mutual.”

You place a hand over your heart at the proclamation. The both of them? All three of you? It was peculiar, yes but maybe this is just what you needed.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you take a hand from the both of them in yours. “This is a lot to process,” you admit, “but could we talk about it in the morning? I just want to go to sleep.”

“Of course, Kitten.”

“Absolutely, beautiful!”

Both men had responded to you at the same time, making you laugh heartedly. You miss the smiles that come to their faces at your laugh as you walk slowly down the hallway. You had a feeling you were headed toward Shinsou’s room considering he had the bigger bed than you and the blond. You squeeze their hands tightly as you eagerly await the cuddle session and sleep you’ll get with these two. You’re certain that it’ll be some of the best sleep of your life.

The three of you had much to discuss in the morning, but for right now you’re content being in the middle of your cuddle pile as they wipe away any stray tears that fall from your eyes. You know the two heroes aren’t going to solve your problems, but they became a lot easier to handle whenever they would act up in the future.

~~~~~~~~~~

#shinsou hitoshi #denki kaminari #shinsou x reader #shinsou x y/n #kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #denki x reader #denki x y/n #shindenki x reader #shinsou x reader x kaminari #my writing #i did the thing #self indulgent #this is so shitty #minors dni #shinsou x female reader #denki x female reader #shindenki x female reader

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 12/?

Word Count: 4.4k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your Name, A/N - Any Name (Your Best friend’s name)

God idk what i’m doing with this but i’m liking it lmao

next one might honestly be smut idk

Warnings: Violence, Swearing, Description of Blood, Gets heated, hints at trauma, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(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)

Y/N walked through the streets of Gotham, which were once bustling with people, but now were quiet with the occasional hooker, she had caught the city as an unlively hour, where it seemed to sleep the night away while the vigilantes of the area watched it like their lives depended on it. In some ways it did, the stories they would tell when being interviewed were horrific sometimes, but Y/N figured a decent amount of it was for dramatization, to keep the people of Gotham off of the streets to protect them all from it.

The question was always protect them from what, and they never answered. So, it never kept the people of Gotham at bay from the streets at night, and had Y/N’s car not been towed, she would have been driving home in the safe, secluded area of her car, not the vast wilderness of the streets of Gotham.

She looked up at the sky to see one of the virgate boys using a grappling hook to fly to the other building, which was such a sight to behold for someone who never witnessed a superhero beyond Superman at home. She wished and longed to know more about the vigilante, but didn’t dwell or dote on that man, because she didn’t need to.

Something told her that he was watching though, tracing every step she made to make sure she got home in one piece. She thought she was crazy, her life didnt matter more than anyone else in Gotham. He’s not following me, why would he? she thought, Even though I’m dating Jason Todd, they probably don’t know Jason, so my life doesn’t mean much more to them than any one of the hookers along this street. I’m overthinking it.

The walk home took two hours, she left Jason’s at 4am just to find herself back home at 6am, bright and early as the sun rose, ready to greet the day and all it had in store for everyone. But the things it had in store for Y/N was a class and if she was lucky, cuddling with Jason. Nothing more, nothing less.

She would open her front door, unscathed from the journey home, except maybe for a few callouses on her feet, it was the last time she wouldn't pay for more than a day of parking, that’s for sure. Heels were not the shoes you wanted for a two-hour walk home in the Autumn cold, but they were what she had.

She thought about what she was going to do next, and the first thought she had was to shower. Not because she needed to, but because she wanted to nurse the terrible headache she had and to think some things through. What she normally did in the shower.

She wanted so much more from so much of her life. the main offender of seemingly not being enough for her was Jason. Not because she didn’t want more, but because she craved more from him. He was injured, so she wouldn’t get much more rom him for the time being, and it stung a little for her. She just wanted him, maybe sexually, maybe in a more romantic setting or maybe just on her couch on a Thursday afternoon. It was all three of those options and she knew it.

She pulled out of the shower and looked at the time, 6:50am. Okay, she thought, little more time than I wanted to spend in the shower, but I guess the universe had different plans for me today. What else do you have for me, universe? And how much of you plan involves Jason?

She would open her phone after quickly getting dressed. While she still cared for her appearance, she didn’t want to dress like she owned a law firm every day, so she didn’t. Just black jeans and a black top and she felt like a million bucks. 

Just some quick outfit inspo. I like doing these a lot. I think fashion is funky :))

Artemis had sent her a message asking where she was at around 4am, she wondered why the time, but she then remembered that Artemis’ boyfriend worked with Dick Grayson, who was Jason’s brother, who worked most nights until radical hours of the night. The chances that he saw her on her two-hour walk home was high, but the chances that that had also made it back to Jason was higher. She knew she was in for it.

Hey sorry, I was at Jason’s. Fell asleep in his arms the whole shebang. And yeah, that was me who screamed the yo momma joke at the press. It was super childish, I know, but I don’t care. Those fucks are sucking my life force out of me and harassing my boyfriend, even your boyfriend.

She would then look at the articles calling her a gold digger and worth-nothing childish insulter of the press. She laughed. If the press wanted a fight from her, she was more than willing to oblige and load the canons. 

She didn’t know how to fight back that well, since it was a mainly verbal fight, and she barely even knew how to  fight physically, hence all the running and non-confrontational arguments she had had to the press.

And like fucking clockwork, Jason texted her.

Did you walk home alone or are my brothers lying bastards?

I walked. I knew someone saw me, fuck.

Why did you walk home? I thought you drove here?

I did, but we spent more than 12 hours together Jason. I didn’t buy enough hours, suddenly my car was being towed.

You could have asked for a ride home from Alfred! He would have in a heartbeat.

I was going to! But  I got distracted and it all became a blur and suddenly I was part of the way home in the dark by myself!

What if you had gotten hurt?

Well, I saw one of the vigilantes of the city on the rooftops, I’m sure if I screamed they would have seen me. They always do see that stuff.

So, your car got towed huh?

Yeah, I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay it off. It’s not exactly like money my parents give me should go to my car getting towed because I got fucked over by seeing my boyfriend. 

You’ll figure it out. Sorry about the car, that’s got to suck fucking ass.

You think? I’m stuck taking the fuckin’ subway till I get my car back. I hate the subway, too many people. Far too many people. Too many eyes. It gets stressful really quickly. Might just walk every where honestly, I can’t deal with the eyes of strangers.

But you’re a C-list celebrity.

Internet is different. I can just block the bad eyes and move on with my life, you should see my block list now that some people are connecting my name to the girl who flipped off the press, thank god Twitter has a fuckin block feature.

You should really just meet my family so you don’t have to run away before they get home, would probably cause you a lot less financial stress, Y/N.

I’ll think about it.

You should think a little harder about it. I don’t want you to get your car impounded ‘cause you’re seeing me, why did you even park in pay-to-park?

Did you not see the massive mob trying to get to you? It was impossible for me to even try to pull into the driveway. Hence why I’m being insulted, you know, ‘cause I yelled at the press to get them to leave me alone. I fucking hate the press, you’re stabbed, severely injured last time they got information, and they’re harassing me, asking me what I like to do on the weekends.

Fucking vultures. Yeah, I’ve seen that. I’ve read the articles. But that’s the press for you, absolute trash and spitting bullshit in everyway.

Fucking hate the press, that’s for damn sure. Despise them. I won’t ever change that, even if, knock on wood, we break up.

Praying we don’t break up so I can see you lose your shit at the press when you’re bored.

She would get up to go make some coffee, since it was closer to 7:20am and if her roommate woke up, she could just tell her to get up anyway.

The press can suck my dick. she said.

You have a dick?

Oh yeah. Massive. 20ft long. It probably won’t even fit all the vultures.

Oh my god, that’s not as big as mine.

lmfao is it now?

Oh yeah.

Nice.

Anyway, my brothers are staying home from school today,  I think they’re making me play Resident Evil 8 with them? You know that game?

Of course. Everyone in that game is infinitely hot.

Are you bi? 

I don’t know. Haven't thought that far ahead to actually label myself. I just like people. Sometimes it’s men, sometimes it’s women. But you have to agree when you see them all. That game came out when I was still in  high school, so I’ve played the entire thing. My phone background is actually one of the characters.

Which one?

I’ll show you if I come over tonight.

My brothers might be in my room, though.

Okay, but, RE8 is an amazing game. So, worth it.

You won’t meet them normally but I pull out a game you love and you’re down?

I’m very easy to convince.

You still have notes to write when you come over though.

Oh yeah, I was probably going to have to come over both ways, just because I need those notes and you do too.

Do you not own a printer?

I barely even own a laptop, I’m waiting for my old one to come in the mail. 

How do you even manage?

With a whole lot of will and spite, anything is possible.

And that’s when her discord group chat @’ed her. She was on Do Not Disturb because she was Jason, and apparently they missed her.

Y/N! C’mere. One said.

Yes? Whatduhya want nerds?

We’ve decided to hold a fake internet wedding between you and Christopher. Another said.

A what.

We’re getting married!

Sometimes I wish I never left Metropolis and then I remember you fucks live there. Why are we doing this? You do know I have a boyfriend right? She asked them.

I don’t know, we’re bored and we miss you. We can have a bachelorette party in Gotham, if you want.

I’m this close to going back on DND.

The group chat was made way back when they had all first met in grade 9 and had been active ever since. They all had stayed in the city when they graduated though, but since Y/N received a scholarship, fully paid for, she took the opportunity and jumped.

They were some of her closest friends, even if they lived in a different city to her now, even if they were all busy with school, even if she was busy with school and a boyfriend, A lot of her life wouldn’t be complete without her crack friends in her hometown.

They had all ben partying like crazy while she was gone, and if she wasn’t so hung up in her own life, she’d probably be down there with them. 

Before you do, can you please explain why you’re screaming at the press, lmao.

Because fuck the press, dude. Why else? 

What did they do to you?

Have you seen the recent articles?

That’s true.

She laughed and finished her coffee. Jason had not responded yet, she assumed his brothers were either checking on him or they had started the game. It was around 8am when A/N finally left her room.

“I thought you were staying with Jason?”

“I was, but then I remembered he has like 9 siblings and I’m not about to meet them all. Then I walked home.”

“You walked?”

“Car got towed.”

“Fuck, can you afford the bill? I can’t.”

“Nope.”

“Guess we’re going to take the subway for a while, huh.”

She sighed and put her cup in the sink, “At least you don’t have school to go to and your lover comes to meet you, I have shit to do and places to be,” she frowned, “Inconvenient.”

“Could you borrow money from Jason’s dad?”

“I don’t borrow money from family, it’s hard enough for me to accept the money my parents send me.”

“I know it is, when’s your class?”

“3pm, I’ll be leaving at 12pm though, because the subway is unreliable.”

“This is going to be a hard hit for us.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s fucking your credit. Mine’s tanking.”

“You’ll pull through it.”

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

She got onto the subway at 12:30pm. She really hated the way it was running. The people, the faces, the staring eyes of unwanted attention. People knew who she was and she hated it. She didn’t like the attention, she just liked the fucking with people. She wanted to get off the subway the minute she got on.

She eventually couldn’t take it and got off a few stops away, there was still a substantial walk towards the college, but she knew it would be. She even brought a leather jacket with her so that she could walk if she couldn’t take it anymore.

And there she was, in the busy streets of Gotham, walking to her college. Barely aware of the people who did stare at her, because she just kept walking, lost in her thought but aware of the people in her trail, the cross walks and the lights she was waiting for occasionally. She just kept walking until Artemis met up with her,

“Hey! I didn’t know you were walking to school today,” Artemis said.

“Oh! I didn’t want to, my car got towed though.”

“Your car got towed? That sucks so much. Well, we’re going the same way, so I’ve decided I’m going to walk with you, you get no say.”

“Of course. I was going to ask if you wanted to,” she laughed, “It’s more fun with a friend anyway, Art.”

“So, how are things with you and Jason, I’m legally obliged to ask as one of his friends.”

“Well, we made it official if that’s the kind of thing you want to hear,” she laughed again, “I’m sure it’s the answer Dick will eat up.”

“You’re right about that one. Dick’s a sucker for a romantic story, you should write one, since you write. He’d probably read it all.”

“Well, that would be fun, but I still don’t have my laptop.”

“You could use Jason’s?” Artemis suggested..

“Nah. It’ll be fine,” she said, “I’ll manage.”

“Aren’t you collecting notes for him for your psychology class?”

“I am, it’s not like he can go anywhere. I actually told him he’d need to walk eventually so that it’s not a learning curve when he’s healed.”

“That’s what all of us are telling him too, he’s a stubborn man, good luck with that one,” Artemis laughed, “He’s always been the stubborn friend. Worse than Will, actually, and Will is really bad with being stubborn.”

“It’s fine,” she laughed, “If you asked any of my Metropolis friends they’d say the same about me.”

“I bet you were quite the wild child in your heyday back in your city,” Artemis laughed, “I hate Metropolis.”

“Who doesn’t? It’s so crowded.”

“Uh, Clark doesn’t. He thrives there, no idea why, he grew up in Smallville. If anyone should be uncomfortable with Metropolis it should be the small-city country boy, but I guess it’s his thing.”

“I forget you know everyone.”

“We know a lot of people, are you’re slowly being let into our massive circle of very well-known people. Welcome to the group, I guess,” she laughed, “You'll either hate or love the fame that comes from this.”

“Well, if its paparazzi and press, I think I’ll hate it.”

“I can promise you right now that it’s not all paparazzi and press, we haven’t been bothered today, probably because we are on the move.”

“You shouldn’t say that, you’ll jinx it.”

“I know a lot about not jinxing it, but that’s a story for another time,” Y/N noticed that when Artemis said this her eyes glazed over and she looked upset.

“You don’t ever have to talk to me about something you’re not ready to talk about,” Y/N reassured her.

“Hey, the trauma makes me funny.”

“Two can play that game.”

They would ramble on for the rest of the walk to their college. Nothing really of substance, just getting to know each other further. She was glad she found a friend in Artemis, it would have sucked if the two of them didn’t get along, but with each word they exchanged, they had so much fun.

She even told Artemis about that time she played Katherine Howard in her school’s budget play of Six - The Musical. She was proud of the riffs she was able to do, but she didn’t talk about it often. She was never the type of brag about her achievements, no matter how amazing they were.

But Artemis and Y/N parted ways and Y/N went to her class and wrote the same, boring, scribbly and barely legible notes. She figured eventually she’d need nicer handwriting, but did she want to work on it? No.

When she finished, she saw Artemis and who she could only assume to be Wally, at Artemis’ class doors. She waved to Artemis, before Artemis called her over.

“Y/N! Hey, I would ask how class is, but this is Wally,” she gestured to the red-head boy beside her, and Y/N held out her hand to shake Wally’s.

“Hi, Wally.”

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you since Jason can’t shut up about you and my girlfriend likes you a lot.”

“Well that's sweet of you Artemis. You’re just so in love with me,” Y/N joked.

“Girl. You know it,” Artemis joked back.

“You two already have a close bond? That’s impressive,” Wally said, “Never seen anyone win over any of my friends this quickly,” he muttered.

They joked for a little while longer, just getting to know Wally before she had to go, she had to get to Jason’s.

The walk was a while away, so she went and sat on a park bench for a minute to check her phone, Jason had texted her.

Hey baby, are you coming over?

I am, yes. I actually just met Wally.

You met Wally and I wasn’t there to see it? C’mon.

Artemis introduced us! Go yell at her.

Oh. Never mind. I won’t do that.

Ha! Scared of her?

Maybe a little, she can be scary, okay?

You can’t tell but I’m laughing at you.

Dhmu.

That’s fine, I’ll just go hang out with Alfred and not you. He seems like he would be spiteful like me.

That’s unfair.

I thought you said don’t hit me up?

Fuck.

Checkmate.

I am upset.

No you’re not.

No I’m not.

She would walk down the street further, maybe within a couple steps to reach the Manor, when a man dragged her into an alleyway. She yelped.

“Uh, hello? Can I help you?” she asked, pretending she wasn’t terrified.

“How much would Bruce give me for you?” the attacker mumbled before he tried to knock her to the ground, but she had another plan.

He grabbed her, put his face close to hers, and she head-butted him, he would stumble back, and she started running to the Manor.

“Come here you fucking bitch!” he screamed. She could feel her nose bleeding as she ran and ran, the security saw her and pulled her into the gateway before drawing their guns and urging her to run to the steps of the Manor.

And she ran. The security at the door saw her and let her in, and yelled for Alfred.

“What is this nonsense, oh,” Alfred paused when he saw the blood running out of Y/N’s nose, “Miss Y/N, what happened to you?” he asked before grabbing her hand and pulling her into the entry-way bathroom and opening a first-aid kit.

“Okay so, what happened was I was walking to the Manor because my car got towed right? And this fucking bastard dude pops out from an alleyway and pulls me into it, asks some bullshit about how much Bruce would pay for me, when he grabbed me and tried to knock me down, when I head-butted him and started running,” she said, completely unphased.

Alfred didn’t respond to her and started to stop the bleeding when Bruce called for him, “In the entry-way bathroom, Master Wayne!” he answered.

Bruce came around the corner and saw Alfred was already tending to Y/N, “Well, this is the event where I meet my son’s girlfriend, when she is bleeding and running from a strange man in an alleyway.”

“Heh, sorry,” she said and outstretched her hand to shake his, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Bruce.”

“I can tell you’re going to be quite the addition to this household,” he said as he took her hand and shook it, “As long as you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good. I guess you can’t get mad at Jase for being a reckless man now.”

“I really can’t.”

“Alright, you should be good, Miss Y/N.”

“Thank you, Alfred. But you really didn’t have to.”

“I’ve been taking care of 5 boys and 3 girls since most of them were little, Miss Y/N. A little blood is really no big deal for me to handle.”

“That’s obvious.”

“You can go see the boys now, they’re going to ask you though,” Bruce said.

“I know.”

She walked to Jason’s room, hoping that he wouldn’t have all of his siblings in the room, he did though.

“Hey, Y/N- what the fuck happened to you?” Jason exclaimed when she opened the door.

“Oh great, all your siblings are here. Anyway, I guess,” she paused, taking in a big breath so she could run through the events quickly, “So I was walking here ‘cause my car got towed, right? When some fucking bastard man grabs me and yanks me into an alleyway and starts going off about how much Bruce will pay him to get me back or something,” she paused again, “And when he tried to knock me down by getting really close and personal to my face, like an idiot I should add, I head-butted him.”

“You did what?’

“I’m not done yet, met your dad when I actually had blood running out of my nose because that's just my fucking luck. Okay, now you can be disappointed in me,” she joked.

“I will say again, you did what?”

“Something stupid?” she said.

“You could say that again, my god, what went through your head?”

“Uh, nothing. Just survival. Fight or flight but I head-butted a man, and hi, everyone.”

“Hi, Y/N, I’m Dick,” Dick said, “You clearly are meant for Jason,” he joked, “That's something he would do.”

“Don’t encourage her, Dick!”

Stephanie got up and greeted her, “You know, Y/N, I always wanted a crazy sister,” she joked, “I’m Stephanie, the black-haired girl is Cass, and the red-head is Barbara.”

“Me too,” Cass hopped onto the joke.

“It’s something else when you meet the girl your brother is dating after she head-butted a man, apparently,” Y/N laughed, “I know it’s far-fetched-”

“Not really,” Tim cut her off, “You know Jason protected Will when they were attacked?”

“That’s Tim, by the way,” Dick said.

“So you can’t yell at me for head-butting a man!” Y/N joked at Jason while going to sit beside him, he slinged an arm around her shoulder and leant his head into her head.

“Well, you seem like a nice enough girl,” Barbara said, “Take away the reckless behavior, and you are lovely.”

“That is valid, to be honest. Not exactly the way you want to meet your brother’s girlfriend.”

“You think?” Jason asked, sarcastically.

“Ha ha.”

“See, she thinks I’m funny, why can’t you fucks?”

Y/N laughed and then asked Dick, who was playing RE8 at the time, staring at the photo of Donna Bentiveno, “She’s cute, isn’t she, Dick?”

“Have I been staring?”

“Let’s just say Angie is probably very pissed at you.”

“Oh! Whoops. There’s a point to this, I forgot.”

“I don’t blame you, I remember forgetting there was a point and the little bitch devil doll would attack you.”

“Language.”

“Oh no, you’re lame. Gross.”

“Excuse me?” Dick asked as the rest of the room erupted in laughter.

“Do you guys see why I like her now?” Jason asked.

“Uh no, she’s mean,” Dick said.

“You’re going to die if you don’t start paying attention, Dick,” Y/N said.

“Oh!” and he died.

“And that kids, is why we listen to the person who’s 100%’ed the game.”

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

Y/N and Jason would spend hours with his brothers and sisters until the sun started to set and they all scattered to their own rooms to  do their own things. you can’t keep a lot of kids in one room for so long.

Once everyone left, Y/N placed her hands on Jason and kissed him, she was actually able to be laid on his pillow, he was able to pin her to the bed. And they did just that. He was on top of her, using his one arm to prop himself up and using his other hand to touch her face.

Her hands found their way into his hair like they always did, she found a lot of joy in playing with his hair. Their tongues danced together, they never fought or anything, they just enjoyed each other when Jason let out a small moan and she let out a small laugh.

“Keep it in your pants, Tiger,” she joked, “You’re not fully healed.”

“You literally smashed your face into another man but I can’t moan when I kiss you?”

“Because I know you want more.”

“Hell yeah I do,” he said as he went back for more, actually using his strength to keep her to the bed, but she didn’t protest this time.

#dcu #dceu #dc #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you #red hood fluff #bruce wayne #batman #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #nightwing #barbara gordon #batgirl #oracle #cassandra wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #tim drake #red robin #damien wayne #robin

[kaylaxwrites]

Catch the Wind

Pairing: Matt Murdock/reader Words: 7.2k Summary:  You like Matt. You’re pretty sure he likes you too. Then why does he say no when you ask? What is he hiding and why won’t Foggy tell you?Request:  “How about an old friend of Foggy and Matt, who has this will they won’t they thing with Matt and she finally tries to act on it for her only to get turned down by him. His decision was because he is too focused on being Daredevil and doesn’t want her to be swept up in that so they decide to be friends, but it takes a strain on her relationship with Matt but also with Foggy too. Then like decide where it should go from there” (anon)  A/N: decided to put this all in one part at an attempt for more notes lol

For me to love you now Would be the sweetest thing T'would make me sing Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind

“Catch the Wind” - Donovan

You had been best friends with Matt Murdock for nearly as long as you could remember. As the longest—and oldest—resident of Saint Agnes Orphanage, you had been assigned to show Matt around when he first arrived after his father’s death.

You quietly knocked on the open doorframe. The boy inside sniffled and quickly wiped away his tears before turning towards you. “Come in,” he said, never meeting your eyes. At first, you assumed he was embarrassed to be caught crying.

“Nice glasses,” you offered, hoping to draw his attention away from the death of his parents—or whatever happened to his family that led him here.

The boy pushed the glasses higher up on his nose. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks, I guess.”

You stepped across the room and took a seat on the edge of his bed. “You must be special. Sister Anne would never let me wear sunglasses inside.”

“Oh, they’re…not really…sunglasses.”

He spoke so quietly, you didn’t really make out what he said. So you continued talking anyway. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Matt Murdock.”

You stuck your hand out for him to shake. “Nice to meet you, Matt Murdock.” You froze awkwardly as the kid made no motion to shake your hand. But then you put everything together—his dark glasses, the way he never met your eyes, the cane you were now noticing against the wall—he was blind. And you were an idiot. “I’m, uh, holding out my hand for you to shake.”

“Oh, sorry.”

At last, you shook hands, and you tried not to let the awkwardness sink in. “Um, so Sister Maggie told me to show you around. Do you want to go?” Matt nodded and stood, collecting his cane off the wall. You stood as well, unsure of yourself. “I’ve given this tour a dozen times to newbies, but never to a blind guy. How does this work? Do we hold hands or…?” You quickly shut your mouth. Obviously, you wouldn’t be holding hands—why would you hold hands with a stranger?

“No,” Matt chuckled. “Just give me your elbow.”

“Oh, sure.” You did as Matt said and led him out to the hallway. “I don’t know if they told you, but your room is the third one on the right. You must be lucky. You got a single room. Most of us have to share.” You directed Matt down the stairs until you were on the first floor. “We can’t go in now because they’re setting up for dinner, but the dining hall is here on the left. Breakfast is at 7 on weekdays, 8 on weekends, and dinner is always at 6.” You led Matt further down the hall and out the door. You stepped into a small, sunlit courtyard.

“This is the way to the church,” you continued explaining. “I don’t know if you’re Catholic, but you’re gonna be here real soon.” You stopped in front of the doors to the church, but didn’t go inside. “We’re required to go to Mass Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings, as well as the weekly Mass school gives.”

“School?”

“Yeah, Saint Agnes also runs a school on the other side of the block. It’s where we all go.”

“So I won’t be able to go to my old school anymore?”

You sighed. Newbies always had a hard time finding out they’d no longer be attending school with their friends. “No. Sorry.” His face fell. “But! I think we’re in the same grade, so we should have some classes together. I remember when I was the new kid, but, hey—you already got one friend. It shouldn’t be too bad.”

“What friend?”

You nudged his shoulder. “Me, doofus.”

Matt smiled softly at you and from that moment on, you were thick as thieves.  

As you grew, you slowly realized you probably had more-than-friends feelings for Matt, but you never spoke about them out loud, nor did you dwell on them very often. Matt was your best friend—your only friend—and you didn’t want that to change. So you locked the butterflies in your stomach down tight and shoved those feelings in the back of your brain. It didn’t help that as you neared graduating high school, everyone thought you were dating. You even caught the nuns who worked the orphanage whispering sometimes about how wonderful the two of you would look married—as if things would ever get that far.

When you went to college, your pool of friends expanded by one: Matt’s roommate, Foggy. Foggy quickly became your other best friend—since you were around Matt all the time, it made sense that you and Foggy would be close as well. In fact, it was to Foggy one drunken night when you confessed your feelings for Matt for the first time.

You and Foggy stumbled back to campus after a night out on the town. You, Foggy, and alcohol were never a good mix—you always tried to drink the other under the table until neither of you could stand upright. You leaned against each other for support as Foggy fumbled with his keys to the dorm. You laughed loudly when he dropped them and fell trying to pick them up, but he quickly shushed you. “Shhhhh. Matt’s trying to study,” he slurred, trying and failing to whisper quietly. Matt said he couldn’t go out with the two of you that night because he had a test on Monday morning.

You made a zipping motion over your mouth, but giggled again as you watched Foggy unlock the door. He was on his knees, the doorknob at eye level, as he concentrated on putting the key in the lock as a surgeon would make an incision. He fell on his stomach when the door finally swung open. You leaped over him as soon as you could, eager to see Matt and annoy him to stop studying.

But the room was empty.

You turned to Foggy (finally standing), almost pouting. “Maybe he had to go to the library?” he offered. You shrugged, and then collapsed onto Matt’s bed. You weren’t sure your legs would hold you up any longer.

Foggy puttered around the room, trying to drunkenly change clothes, as you snuggled into Matt’s pillow. You closed your eyes to stop the world from spinning, but that made you realize how tired you were. “You know,” you yawned, almost half asleep now, “I think that girl at the bar really liked you.”

“Who? The pink shirt?”

You nodded into the pillow. “Yeah, she kept looking at you and smiling.”

“Huh.”

You peeked open one eye to stare at him. “Are you not going to ask me why I didn’t act as your wing woman?”

Foggy’s cheeks flushed. “Uh, no, that’s okay.” His voice was higher pitched than usual. What was he trying to hide? If you could move your limbs, you would have crossed the room to stare him down. As it was, you tried to be as intimidating as you could with your face half squished in a pillow.

“Who do you like?” you asked after a moment, finally coming to the conclusion that he must have a crush on someone.

“No one. Who do you like?” he countered.

“I’ll answer if you answer.”

He stared at you for a moment before flopping back on his bed. “You know the girl from my study group?”

You quickly sat up, instantly regretting it as the room—and your stomach—swirled uncomfortably. But you pushed it aside. “Marci Stahl? You like Marci?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Don’t make a big deal about it.”

“Ooh, I am so going to have to tell her.”

“Don’t!” Foggy quickly turned to face you.

“Why not? I already know she likes you.”

“She does?”

“Um, yeah, it’s obvious.” That, and she sat with you at lunch one day and had asked about him.

“Cool,” he sighed happily, laying back down. You huffed a laugh, surprised that was all he had to say. You slumped back into Matt’s bed, eyes drifting closed. You were almost asleep when Foggy called you out on your promise. “Who do you like?”

You froze. You tried to search for a fake name, but the copious amounts of alcohol you had this evening meant you couldn’t think of one. So you sighed and figured you might as well say it. Foggy wouldn’t tell, right? And it was probably best you got it out of your system. “Uh…Matt?” you said quietly. You weren’t even sure if Foggy heard you.

But he did, and after a moment’s silence, he asked, “Have you told him?”

“Definitely not. I didn’t want to mess anything up between us and now…”

“Elektra,” Foggy finished for you.

It seemed Matt had been hanging out with Elektra more than you and Foggy lately. You tried not to let it get to you. Matt was allowed to have other friends, after all—even girlfriends—but something about her gave you a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t put your finger on the feeling or why it was there, but it worried you nonetheless.

“You won’t tell him, will you?” you asked. But Foggy was already asleep.

You were pretty sure Foggy kept this secret over the years, as Matt never once mentioned it to you. Or he was so drunk he forgot about it. That, or Matt similarly thought you should just be friends and never brought it up himself. Either was okay with you.

But now your feelings were somehow growing and you were ready for things to change.

You were hanging out at Matt’s apartment—you always did, every Friday. It was tradition. The two of you were tucked into opposite ends of the couch, watching random things on your laptop. You described what was happening whenever an audio description wasn’t available. But it had been several minutes since you last spoke. Matt hadn’t dozed off, like you originally believed, but he was lost in thought. You tried not to disturb him, thinking he was planning his opening for a case or something like that.

But the three glasses of wine in your system had other plans.

You slowly slid across the middle of the couch until you were inches away, thighs nearly touching. Matt gave no indication that he noticed you. “Hey, Matt?” you whispered after a few moments of silence. His head tilted towards you, indicating that he was listening, but he said nothing. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always,” he replied. He turned his body to face you, realizing from the tone of your voice, you guessed, that this was serious.

“I-I—uh…” you began. You heart pounded. What even were words? “Ilikeyou,” you finally breathed in one rush of words.

“I like you too.”

Your heart constricted. “More than friends, I mean.”

“I know.”

What? Your brain froze. You couldn’t comprehend. You were expected Matt to laugh you off, Matt to turn you down, Matt to do anything but that. “You—you do?” Matt nodded. “Then why…why didn’t you say anything?”

“I could ask you the same question.” He was smiling at you.

“I didn’t want to change anything. Between us. But I told Foggy once in college… I think maybe part of me thought he wouldn’t be able to keep his big mouth shut.”

“Oh, he told me.”

Your eyes widened. “He did? Oh, I’m gonna kill him.” You sprung from the couch, searching for your phone. But Matt stopped you with a hand around your wrist.

“Hey, it’s fine.” He pulled you back to sit next to him. Your thighs were pressed against one another. “I thought you wanted him to spill.”

“A bigger part of me wanted him to forget. We were really drunk that night.”

Matt’s thumb moved to rub circles on the inside of your wrist. Goosebumps raised on your skin. “I remember.” You were surprised he did. But you guessed maybe it was hard to forget the time your best friend told your other best friend that they liked you. Even if you weren’t there. You were sure Foggy gave him all the details.

Matt continued to rub circles into your skin and it was hard to think about much else. Your eyes raised to meet his. You sighed. His eyes were so gorgeous. You wished he didn’t hide them behind his glasses all the time, but you understood. Even then, you wished you could stare into his eyes all day.

Your gaze flicked down to his mouth. Before you knew it, your lips were pressed into his. He froze for a second, not returning the kiss, and you panicked. But before you could pull away, his hand was on the side of your face, pulling you closer. As your lips crashed into one another, you regretted not doing this sooner. He was an amazing kisser.

As things delved deeper, you turned to press your body tightly against his. You threw one leg across his lap and eased him back against the back of the couch. Your hands roamed—through his hair, over his shoulder, down his arms, across his chest. But when you brushed across his ribs, he gasped in pain and pulled back. You instantly sprung off of him.

“Oh, my god, are you okay?” you asked. “What happened?” You knew Matt somehow amassed a large collection of bruises and broken bones—he was just clumsy, he’d tell you ever since they started appearing in your teens. But you weren’t so sure. You’d never even seen Matt stumble once. You slapped Matt’s hands away as you reached for the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal his ribcage.

Blue bruises stood in stark contrast to his skin, surrounded by cuts and scratches of various depths. He winced when your fingers ghosted across the widest bruise—was a rib broken? Several other injuries trailed around his side and you figured his back was in similar shape.

“What happened?” you demanded once more. “Have you gone to the doctor? Were you mugged? Did you call the police?”

Matt’s hands landed on your shoulders to stop your barrage of questions. “I’m fine,” he said, but he gave no further explanation.

“That’s not fine, Matt.”

“I saw a nurse. It’s nothing that won’t heal in a couple of days.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief. But you were still left with so many questions. “Who did this to you? What happened?”

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it’s handled. They won’t be bothering anyone else.”

“That’s good,” you sighed. You wanted to ask more questions, but you knew Matt was being purposefully vague. Why wouldn’t he tell you what happened? Why didn’t he tell you that he was hurt? You wanted to press him more, but you knew Matt was as stubborn as a bull and there was no way you’d get any more information out of him. Tonight, at least. So you decided to distract yourself with the other question filling your head. “So…what about us?”

“We can’t.” Matt’s answer was immediate. No hesitation.

You felt as if a horse had kicked you in the chest. Your breath was knocked out of you. “What?”

“I…we can’t. There’s too many things going on and I can’t risk it.”

“What’s going on? You can tell me—you can always come to me. You know you can.”

Matt hung his head, leaning over his knees. “I can’t.”

Your eyes stung with unshed tears. Matt always came to you. You practically told each other everything. Had you messed things up by confessing your feelings?

“Does it have to do with your bruises?” you said softly.

Matt didn’t reply.

You stared at him, searching for words to say, begging for him to say something. But each of you remained silent.

Nothing.

“I have to go,” you said at last. You scrambled to throw on your shoes and gather your things.

Your heart shattered when Matt made no move to stop you.

“Do you know what’s going on with Matt?” you asked Foggy, pushing your food around with your fork. The two of you were at your favorite diner for your regular biweekly lunches.

“Uh, no. What do you mean?” Foggy’s eyes instantly darted out of the window. He fiddled with his hands. Foggy may be a lawyer, but you had known him long enough to know he knew exactly what was going on.

“I was at his place the other night and he had these bruises…” You gestured over your ribcage, indicating where Matt’s bruises were located.

“Oh. He probably fell down the stairs again. You know Matt.” Foggy chuckled nervously. He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Mhm,” you hummed skeptically. You stared Foggy down. Once or twice, he would glance up at you, but his gaze fluttered away when he realized you were still staring. The waitress brought your checks over and he fumbled getting his money out of his wallet and struggled with gathering his things. Before he could get up and leave, you spoke his name, forcing him to look at you. “Foggy. What’s going on with Matt?”

“Nothing, I swear—”

“Foggy.”

He looked at you and sighed. You were hoping he realized you wouldn’t back down. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

“He promised me not to.”

“Is he in some sort of secret blind Fight Club?”

“If only.”

You reached across the table to grab Foggy’s arms. You leaned towards him. If your college days taught you anything, you might be able to puppy-dog-eye your way to get what you want. “Foggy. Is he in trouble?” you said slowly, quietly.

He turned his head, looking away, as if to find somebody who would rescue him from your gaze. But there was no one. “Y/N, I…I really can’t do this.” His voice was weak. “I can’t tell you.” He pulled free from your grasp, standing and walking away from you. “I’ll see you next week,” he said over his shoulder as he exited the building.

You sat back in your seat, resting heavily against the booth. What was going on? There was nothing, nothing that they had hidden from you before.

At least…not that you knew of.

So why were they hiding this?

You ignored their texts and calls over the next couple of days. You were angry that they were keeping things from you. You were upset that Matt had rejected your feelings just like that, so easily. Your emotions overwhelmed you and you weren’t sure how to process them—so you just ignored them.

After about a week of the silent treatment, they sent Karen over to your apartment one night. She carried your favorite takeout in her hands as a bribe. You took it, of course, but you weren’t happy about it.

“They’re worried about you,” Karen said once the two of you were sat at your table, food dished out in front of you.

You speared a vegetable with a little too much force. “Yeah, well, they wouldn’t have to be if they would just tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m sure they have good reason.”

“You didn’t see the state Matt was in. Something big is going on.”

“Matt said he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he was mugged and they don’t want to tell you so you’re not worried?”

“I wish that was the case.” You turned to face her. “How are you so calm about this? I mean, don’t you think something’s up?”

“I talked to him a few days ago and…he’ll tell us when he’s ready.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. With Matt’s stubbornness, he wouldn’t tell you anything until the information leaked on its own. You’d have to wear down Foggy or…

Karen sighed. She could tell she wasn’t going to be able to get through to you. She decided to change the subject before you could rant any more.

“Seen anything good on Netflix lately?” she offered and the two of you made small talk for the rest of the evening.

A few days later, you were cursing yourself as you were backed into an alleyway. How could you be so stupid? You dropped your guard walking home for one minute and look where it got you. You knew to always be aware of your surroundings, so why did you stop to check the notification on your phone? Just one cute video sent from a friend of her dog and you were about to be robbed of your belongings…or worse.

You tried to form an escape plan—or at least a get-out-alive plan—but your brain was short-circuiting. You nearly shrieked when a dark mass seemingly fell from the sky. Your heart sped faster. Was this man an accomplice to your attacker? Would you now have to face two men to get out of this alley?

But you breathed a small sigh of relief as the man rose from his crouched position on the concrete. You had seen enough pictures in the Bulletin to recognize that this was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. In the flesh. Right here in front of you.

The masked man took only one step forward but it was enough to send your would-be attacker running for the hills. The masked man cocked his head to the side, listening for a moment, before turning to face you. “Are you alright?” he asked. His voice was comforting, like an old friend.

You let out a shaky breath. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” You crossed your arms in an effort to hide your trembling hands. “I wish I knew all it took to scare someone away was to wear a mask. Maybe I’ll start carrying one around.”

The man smiled, small but tense. “If only that’s all it took.”

You glanced awkwardly around the alley, unsure of what to say next. “I, um, thank you?” You cleared your throat. “Thank you,” you tried again. “I…I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.” You tried to clamp down on your wandering thoughts, but it was hard to stop the flashes of possibilities in your brain.

“Is there anyone you could call to come get you?”

Matt. Foggy. Karen. But you still didn’t feel like reaching out to any of them just yet. You shook your head. “No. My apartment’s just two blocks away, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. I’m just a little shaken, but I can make it. Thank you.”

The man hesitated a moment longer, seeming to check that you would actually be all right, before scaling the nearby fire escape in leaps and bounds until he disappeared in shadow. You took a moment to collect yourself before stepping out into the warm light of a streetlamp. You hesitantly made your way home, skittish and jumping at every little noise. You sighed a breath of relief when the deadbolt of your front door finally slid closed.

Even though you were on the fifth floor, you went around your apartment, checking that every window was locked and secured. You pulled the blinds closed for good measure. You froze when you spotted a figure crouched on the fire escape across the street, but smiled as you realized it was the masked man, seeing you safely home. Despite the evening’s events, you felt safe knowing the masked man was protecting the city.

You spotted the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen several more times over the next few weeks. You would catch glimpses of him on your walk home, spot him in shadows from out your window, heard the stories of those he saved. It was comforting, knowing he was out there. You didn’t think his persistent presence would one day turn against you.

You awoke in the middle of the night to a noise in your apartment. You laid still, ears searching for another sound. You relaxed when you heard none after a few minutes. Maybe your neighbor just dropped something, you thought. You closed your eyes and tried to fall back asleep. You tensed again at the sound of fabric rustling, realizing after a moment it was just your window curtains in the breeze. What had you so jumpy tonight? You had seen the masked man just this evening, keeping watch over the block. You knew nothing was going to happen…

You were nearly asleep when a hand clamped over your mouth and nose.

You were dazed and confused when your eyes finally fluttered open. You weren’t in your bed—had you fallen asleep working at the kitchen table again? You moved to stretch your arms and back, but something tugged tight at your wrists. You glanced down with groggy eyes to find a neatly knotted rope around each arm. You kicked your legs to find that they were similarly bound.

In an instant, your sleepy mind flashed to full clarity.

Not good. This was definitely not good.

Your eyes focused just ahead of you. Across a small wooden table was a well-dressed man with dark hair. He was sitting casually, almost lazily, with one leg draped across the arm of his chair. He was twirling a knife idly in his right hand and barely glanced at you when he spoke. “Finally awake?”

“Where am I?” you responded, giving another futile tug to your bindings.

“New York City,” the man deadpanned. You nearly rolled your eyes—you could’ve figured that one out yourself. The sounds were distant, muffled, but you could still make out the sound of the hustle and bustle of the busy city. You couldn’t exactly tell which borough you had been brought to, but you knew you weren’t in a residential area. The room you were in was big with tall ceilings, dim construction lights, and no windows aside from darkened skylights on the roof. An abandoned factory. A warehouse, maybe.

Well, isn’t that just a bit cliché.

You shivered as a draft eased over your skin. The building certainly didn’t have central AC—you were freezing in the thin pajamas you had been kidnapped it.

Kidnapped.

You had just been kidnapped. Why this was only registering now, you weren’t sure. You fought the panic rising in your chest. Hyperventilating now would be no good and you didn’t want to know what would happen if you passed out. A count of five to control your breathing, then: “What do you want from me?”

“It’s not you we want, sweetheart.” He rose from his seat, straightening his suit jacked and adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. He slowly stepped around the table and you couldn’t help but be reminded of a jaguar stalking its prey. You tensed when he disappeared behind you, but he was only gone for a moment before tossing several issues of the Bulletin across the table. “It’s him.”

You cautioned a closer look at the papers in front of you. Featured on each page was a different grainy photo of the man in the mask, Daredevil, whatever they were calling him these days. “I don’t—I don’t know him.”

“You don’t?” The man—your kidnapper—pulled out a few photographs, placing them slowly in front of you. The first was of you and Daredevil walking side by side. It was taken shortly after he had saved you from that alley, you realized, when he escorted you home. The second was a picture of the fire escape landing just outside your window. You were leaning out the window, handing him a bottle of water—the defender of Hell’s Kitchen needed to be hydrated, right? But glancing at the third picture, you were unsure of what it had to do with you. Until you realized it was of him kneeling on the rooftop of the building across from yours.

“We’ve been trying to track him down,” your kidnapper continued, “as he’s been interfering with several…business ventures of ours. He’s been very hard to locate. Fortunately for us, your apartment is one of his more…frequented locations. We just want to know who he is. Then we might be able to…set you free.”

“But I don’t know him!” you insisted again.

Your kidnapper retrieved a knife from his pocket, sliding the flat of it up the side of your arm. “It would be easier on the both of us if you just told me his name.”

“It would be easier if you’d just listen! I don’t know—” Your words abruptly cut off as the man slid the point of the knife against your thigh—not deep, but enough to slice through your pant leg and draw a thin line of blood. You could almost laugh. You were expecting much, much worse. “That’s the best you could do? I’ve had paper cuts worse—”

Your eyes widened. Why were you mouthing off at a time like this? Why would you say that? Stupid, stupid, stupid… In a flash, the man’s palm struck across your cheek, turning your head sideways. You tasted blood. Your lip was split. Fantastic.

“I just need a name.”

“I don’t have one!”

“Then let’s just hope he finds you in time.”

“What? No, please, please!” you shouted as his fist collided with your temple.

It was a slow night for Matt. He hadn’t stumbled across any emergencies needing his assistance nor could he hear any in the surrounding area. The night was almost too slow, it seemed. Without anything to do, he jogged across rooftops until he reached your apartment building. He always told himself it was just part of his nightly sweep of the neighborhood, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

It had been weeks since you’d talked to him—well, talked to him as Matt, that is. You had been his best friend for nearly two decades now. It pained him every day the two of you didn’t talk.

But it wasn’t like he didn’t understand.

He rejected you. He probably broke your heart and, to top it all off, he was hiding a huge secret from you! He understood why you were giving him the silent treatment—he’d probably do the same if the roles were reversed—but he was thankful he could still at least check on you every day, even if it was as the Daredevil. He just wished you wouldn’t take it out on Foggy, too.

Foggy was torn, to say the least. He hated to see his two best friends apart like this and hated knowing he had contributed to it in some way. He wanted to tell you Matt’s secret, he really did! But he couldn’t. He desperately wanted to tell you so you could talk some sense into Matt, get him off the streets every night, but he couldn’t betray Matt’s trust like that. Even as much as he wanted to. He’d tell Matt as much, but things were already tense between them as they were.

Shaking his thoughts aside, Matt stepped gently onto your fire escape. He first noticed the cool air seeping out the window to your apartment. How many times would he have to remind you to lock it? He made three quick raps against the pane, alerting you to his presence. He waited for you to answer, but you never showed. He turned his attention away from the city and directed it to the inside of your apartment. But…he couldn’t hear you.

He could hear the loud thumping of the heartbeat of your upstairs neighbor and the quieter beats of her two cats but not you. He slid your window open wider and slipped into the space of your kitchen. The air was still. You hadn’t been here in a few hours. Dread pooled deep in his stomach.

Matt pulled his phone out of his pocket. Normally, he left it behind, but part of him hoped you would end your silent treatment one of these nights. Whatever the reason, he was thankful he had it. He just had to assure himself that you were okay—perhaps you’d gone to the store or out to a movie with a friend. He quickly dialed your number, paling when he heard your phone buzz on your bedside table. He hung up. Foggy’s number was next.

“Matt?” Foggy asked groggily, disoriented from waking up and confused that Matt was actually calling him.

“Have you heard from Y/N?” Matt asked quickly.

“No. Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just…stopped by her apartment and she’s not here. She’s not answering her phone.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably at a friend’s place. Asleep. Like we should be.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.” Matt ended the call, nearly throwing the phone across the room in frustration. Something wasn’t right about this. He paced across your apartment, freezing when he caught the scent of…cologne? His heart dropped a little. Maybe you found somebody to replace—

His mind made the connection. That was the same cologne as one of the crime bosses he’d been following.

This time, he did throw his phone across the room.

You realized at some point you’d gone unconscious. You awoke to a throbbing in your skull and sharp pains across your abdomen. You couldn’t feel the rest of your body, but you generally felt like you had been hit by a truck. The taste of blood was heavy on your tongue. You pried your eyes open, but everything was blurry. Was one of your eyes swollen shut or just could you not see from the pain in your head? You pried your eyes open further and winced. Swollen. Your eye was definitely swollen.

You couldn’t catalogue any other specific injuries. All the pain swelled together, indistinguishable from one another. You thought maybe a finger was broken, but you couldn’t tell for sure. It definitely hurt every time you tried to flex your hand, though. You also realized deep breaths were something to steer clear from.

Your captor noticed your movements and stepped into your field of vision, leaning against the table in front of you. “Back, are we?” he asked. He casually bumped your knee with his, almost affectionately. You hissed from the pain the movement caused.

“Didn’t…didn’t think I could leave,” you wheezed. You’d certainly begged for it earlier. But your kidnapper made it clear the Devil arriving would be your only hope. Your kidnapper…you really needed to give him a name.

“Not yet.” Your captor—Zane. Yeah, let’s call him Zane—picked up a knife from behind him and twirled it in the air. You tensed, waiting for the pain to come, but he just continued to stare at you.

“Okay, listen,” you begged. “I’m weak. I’m weak, I know I am. I’m weak to torture. If I knew anything, it’d have spilled already. You’re good—you’re good at what you do, but I don’t have anything—”

“Flattery gets you nowhere. Besides, that isn’t even the goal anymore.” A glint from the knife was your only warning before it was embedded in your thigh. You screamed, begging, pleading, that your hero would find you.

Your bloodcurdling scream sent ice down Matt’s spine.

He had been poised outside the warehouse, waiting, listening, trying to find the best course of action to rescue you. But that sound had him throwing caution to the wind. He dove through the nearest window.

Three men were in this hallway. Matt dodged a bullet one of the men fired before ripping the gun out of his hands. A solid strike from the butt of the gun rendered the man unconscious and Matt turned to face the other two. His mind turned to autopilot as he incapacitated his enemies. Every move was instinctual, every hit uncaring.

At last, he found where you were being held in the center of the building. He tensed as he stepped into the room, hands raising in a sign of no harm. You were being held at gunpoint. Every step he took pressed the gun tighter into your temple, so he froze, thirty feet away from you.

Tears were streaming down your face. You knew a gun was being held to your head, but you weren’t conscious of much more than that and the knife still hilt-deep in your leg. Ringing in your ears drowned out all other sound. You weren’t sure how the Daredevil made it across the room or took down Zane, but you instinctively reacted when hands pressed down on your shoulders.

“No, please, stop!” you begged. “I don’t know who he is, I swear.”

Slowly, your senses came back to you. “Hey, it’s me. Calm down,” you heard. Your eyes fluttered open. The masked man blearily came into focus. You wished you knew what he looked like. He’d probably have such gorgeous eyes… “Y/N, hey.” A hand tapped the side of your face. “I need you to stay awake, okay? I’m gonna get you some help.”

“My eyes closed?” you mumbled. You were trying to stay awake, but your eyes had plans of their own.

“Yeah, they did.” He knelt down to untie the rope around your wrists and ankles. Once free, he tucked an arm under your knees and behind your low back. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry.” On a count of three, he lifted you into his arms and you were out like a light.

 You groaned some time later as you were laid gently on what you thought to be a couch. You couldn’t tell where you were—higher thinking was on the backburner currently. The pain quickly erased any thought that came into your mind. You fought to open your eyes, though. You had to know if you were safe.

You were in a small apartment, on a living room couch like you originally thought. An expansive first aid kit was spread on the coffee table next to you. Several of the tools were bloodied; several packages were ripped open. You raised your eyes higher to find a woman and a man having a heated discussion. The man you knew—it was the Daredevil. You could tell even though his back was turned. The woman, though…you weren’t sure her identity. She wore blue, bloodied gloves and the ears of a stethoscope were around her neck. You caught the last of her argument.

“She needs a hospital, Matt. Only surgeons are qualified to remove impaled objects. And I, as good as I am at stitching you up, am not a surgeon.”

You thought hard to make sense of the words. Who needed a hospital? And wait… “Matt?” you croaked. She said Matt? Daredevil instinctively turned at the sound of your voice and you gasped at what you saw. His mask had been removed. You met the eyes of your best friend. Matt Murdock. “What? It’s you?” Matt sighed and ran a hand over his face. Fuck. This was everything he was trying to avoid. “This was why you had those bruises?” He nodded. “Foggy knows?” He nodded again. This was too much for you to wrap your head around.

Matt knelt by your head and took one of your hands in his. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. This is why I couldn’t tell you, why we couldn’t be together. I knew someone was going to use you to get to me. It’s all my fault—”

You stopped his tirade with a whisper of his name. “Matt, it’s not your fault.” You reached up to wipe a smear of blood off his cheek. You weren’t even sure who it belonged to—you, him, or one of your kidnappers. “It’s not your fault. We’ll talk about this later. Right now I’m in a lot of pain and getting a lot of blood on a stranger’s couch. I need to know what the plan is.”

Matt turned to the woman and then sighed. “This is my friend Claire. She’s a nurse at Metro General. She’s going to take you to the hospital, okay?”

Matt moved to stand, but you gripped his arm. “You’re not going?”

“I’ll meet you there as soon as I can. I have to change clothes first. I can’t show up looking like this.” He gestured broadly to his bloodied suit. Your grip tightened. You didn’t want him to leave you. “I trust Claire with my life. She’s safe.”

You slowly loosened your grip. “Be fast,” you whispered. Matt nodded.

He and Claire loaded you into the passenger seat of her car. Matt pressed a kiss into your temple before closing the door behind you. Soon, the car was moving and you bared your teeth through the pain each turn and bump caused. Claire was a constant stream of “sorry.” You fought with everything you had to stay awake, but with the adrenaline gone, you felt every injury at full volume. But one ginormous pothole was all it took for your strength to shatter.

You groaned as you came to. Your eyes fluttered against the bright lights, but once they adjusted, you found you were in a hospital room. “I want to stop waking up in random places,” you whined. This was the third strange place you had woken up in since…however long it was since you were last at your apartment. A calendar on the wall said it was Sunday. So, two days.

Matt startled awake at the sound of your voice. You glanced over at him. He’d been trying to sleep in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs. He had dark circles under his eyes, worse than usual. Had he been here this whole time? “You look like shit, Matt,” you said.

“Y/N, I—” he started, but you cut him off.

“You don’t have to apologize. I understand now, I do.” Matt slid his chair across the floor until he was right by your side. You reached down to take his hand.

“But if I—”

“There’s a million things both of us could have done differently to not end up right where we are. The blame’s not all on you, Matt.”

He was silent for a few moments. He pressed the back of your hand against his lips as he thought. “How are you not mad at me?” he eventually asked.

“They got me on the good drugs right now, I think. But once they release me…ooh, you’re in for it.” You squeezed his hand, smiling.

“Yeah?” He returned your smile.

“Yeah.” You sat quietly for a few moments, your heart monitor filling in the easy silence. “So are you really blind? Or is that something to throw off people from finding out your secret identity?”

“You think I’ve had an alter ego since I was ten?” he laughed.

“You never know,” you shrugged. You burrowed deeper into your pillows. “I think I’m going to take a nap now. Will you stay?”

“Always.”

You were nearly asleep when you had to murmur one last thought. “I love you, Matt.”

“I love you too.”

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock/reader #repost #kayla rambles #mine

[dickspeightjrs]

Confessions of a Roommate in Love (college au / 3.1k words / roommates)

ao3 link

During college you’ll do anything to earn a bit of extra cash between classes. 

Ash does computer shit for people (Dean has learned not to ask about how legal it all his work is). Jo works in her mom, Ellen’s, bar. Benny hustles pool in said bar (while avoiding Ellen’s wrath).

But Dean and Castiel do something a little different. 

They enter trials and experiments posted around their university’s psychology and science departments. The psychology department, especially, knows them pretty well by now. It’s got to the point where they’ll just go straight to Dean and Castiel and ask if they’re interested. 

So that has what led Dean to racing into their apartment one Tuesday afternoon in their final year with a look of sheer childish glee on his face. 

Castiel is laying back on the sofa working on something but looks up from his laptop at the slam of the door and squints at Dean’s expression. He can never quite trust that Dean’s gleeful looks won’t end in tears eventually. But whatever Dean usually suggests Castiel will go along with because that’s what best friends do. 

“They’re doing another research project in the Psych department. Charlie emailed me the details.” Dean explains. 

Castiel’s interest is clearly piqued and he closes his laptop, moving to sit properly on the sofa to give Dean room to sit down next to him. 

“She said there’s a few stages to it. We’ve got to enter some video submission thing first to see if we’re the right fit and then they’ll invite us in for the real thing. Pretty much like the rest of them.” Dean shrugs, taking the offered seat next to Castiel. 

He pulls up the email on his phone and scrolls straight to the specific information for potential participants. They’ve done so many of these things that he tends to scroll right past most of the generic information. 

Castiel’s interested gaze stays on him. 

“Ah, here it is.” Dean quickly scans the text before reading it out. “So it’s a study about roommates and looks like we have to just answer a few questions about each other. Easy.” Dean grins. 

“What kind of questions do we have to answer?” Castiel asks. 

“Just basic ones about living together - who’s the messiest,” Dean snorts, “that’s you.” 

Castiel makes an offended noise and plucks Dean’s phone out of his hand. “I think you’ll find that’s you actually. I don’t think your socks have ever made it to the laundry basket.” 

Dean watches as Castiel scrolls through the rest of the questions. He lets out the occasional chuckle at some of the questions - even the tiniest of laughs lights up his face. 

Eventually, Castiel hands Dean back his phone. “They’re definitely easy questions. I’ll just pack my study stuff away and we can get started on the video. It’ll be better to submit it as soon as possible.” Castiel rises to his feet and collects his laptop in his arms. He’s about to walk down the hall to his bedroom when he turns back to face Dean. “I’m glad this one is about roommates. Given the amount of times we’ve had to pretend to be a couple for these things,” he chuckles and goes to his room, not waiting for a response from Dean.

Dean’s glad Castiel has left and can’t see his face fall from a fake smile. 

Castiel is right. There have been a few times when they’ve participated in research studies and posed as a couple. But what Castiel doesn’t know is that there was no faking on Dean’s part. 

Truthfully, Dean is hopelessly and completely in love with Castiel. 

It’s so unbelievably cliche that Dean can’t quite believe it’s actually true. But it is. 

Ever since they first met, there has been something about Castiel that seems to complete Dean in ways that he never knew he needed. 

Despite successfully pretending to be a couple, Dean has never told Castiel how he feels. Risking their friendship is too much. The chance that he could ruin everything between them is too big. 

So he stays quiet. Living in the hope that it will blow over one day and he’ll find someone who will love him back the way he wants to be loved. 

“Dean, are you listening?” 

Dean blinks back to reality and sees Castiel standing in front of him. “What?” 

“I asked if you wanted to use your phone or mine?” Castiel looks at him quizzically. “Unless you’re not feeling up to it right now? We can do it later.” 

God bless Castiel for being concerned for Dean all the time. 

“Nah, man.” Dean clears his throat and mentally shakes himself. “I’ll have the questions on my phone, so I guess we could use your phone to film it.” 

Castiel nods, though he still looks a little skeptical that Dean is actually okay. “I’ll go and get my tripod for my phone.” 

Dean smiles and waits for Castiel to be gone from the room before he takes a deep breath and casts any thoughts of his true feelings away. It’s not Castiel’s fault Dean feels this way, and Dean isn’t going to take it out on the guy by acting weird. 

Castiel returns and effortlessly sets up the camera to record. 

Having done submission videos like this before, Dean doesn’t feel self conscious about the feeling of having a camera on him anymore. 

Instead, he looks over the email again. 

Castiel drops himself down on the couch next to Dean and naturally lets their knees touch. Dean keeps his eyes focused on the phone in his hand. 

“So it says we have to answer these questions as quick as we can. Don’t think too much about the answers.” Dean explains. 

Castiel nods in understanding. 

“Right, let’s get started.�� Dean says. “First question: Who makes the most noise?” 

“Dean.” 

“Yeah it is me.” Dean has to admit. “It’s the music. Gotta start the day with listening to some classic rock.” 

Castiel snorts. “Yes but you don’t only start the day with classic rock. You end with it too. And you play it when you study. And shower. And when you’re sad.” 

Dean blushes a little at the thought of Castiel knowing when Dean is sad and when he listens to music to cope with it. 

He clears his throat. “Okay, next question.”

*  *  * 

It’s another couple of days before an email pings itself into Dean’s inbox telling him that he and Castiel are through to the next stage of the study. 

Dean hasn’t thought about his feelings for Castiel since they filmed the video and he’s very happy to keep it that way. 

He’s sat in the living room watching the new episode of Dr Sexy when Castiel comes through the door after his last class of the day. He looks tired and completely adorable. 

“Hey, man. Got an email today, we’re through to the next stage. You free tomorrow afternoon?” 

Castiel doesn’t reply straight away. Instead he trudges over to the couch and flops down next to Dean. The dude must really be as tired as he looks because he sighs and rests his weary head on Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean resists the urge to rest his head on Castiel’s in return. “You okay there, Cas?” He asks, looking down at Castiel’s head of dark hair. 

“I’ve had a long day. That last final nearly killed me. I swear to god.” Castiel groans. 

As much as Dean loves Castiel, the dude can be a real drama queen when he wants to be. 

“Come on, man, you’ve aced all your finals and you know it. You’re the smartest guy I know.” 

Castiel abruptly lifts his head from Dean’s shoulder and looks his friend in the eyes. “Thank you, Dean,” he says, sincerity shining in his eyes. His eyes seem to flicker down to Dean’s momentarily but Dean is sure it must just have been the lights or something. 

Dean swallows and coughs before he does something stupid. “Anyway, you free tomorrow then?” 

Castiel clears his throat too and shifts away from Dean’s personal space a little. “Yes, I am free all day. I was just planning to sleep now that finals are over. But it’ll be nice to see what happens with Charlie’s research project.” 

Dean nods. “Awesome, I’ll text Charlie and tell her we’re free.” 

Text sent, Dean returns his attention to Dr Sexy, who is making out with yet another intern on screen. What Dean wouldn’t give to be one of those interns. 

He almost forgets that Castiel hasn’t actually left the living room until he feels a soft weight fall onto his shoulder again. He looks to see that Castiel has fallen asleep on the couch next to him. Now Castiel’s head has slipped down and rested itself against Dean’s arm. 

Any normal roommate would wake Castiel up and tell him to go to his room and get some sleep. But Dean just can’t bring himself to disturb Castiel’s peaceful slumber. Finals must have really knocked it out of him. 

And if Dean gets a little joy out of having Castiel this close to him, well that’s no one else’s business but his own. 

*  *  * 

“Okay I just need you guys to sign a few documents before we get started.” Charlie explains. “I know you’ve seen most of these before with the other studies but there’s a couple new ones in there so make sure you look at them carefully. Dean.” She raises an eyebrow at him. 

Dean looks up from where he’d been scanning the papers Charlie handed them when they walked into the classroom. His face is a picture of perfect innocence and offence of being accused of such things. 

“Don’t pull that face, Dean. Charlie is right, you can be rather lackadaisical with important documentation.” Castiel says, his eyes never leaving the papers he’s reading. 

Trust Castiel to know exactly how Dean would react without even looking at him. And lackadaisical? Who even says that? God, Castiel is such a fucking dork. 

Papers thoroughly read and signed, Charlie takes Dean and Castiel into a smaller room with two stools next to each other in the middle. A pretty simple set up compared to some of the things they’ve been part of. 

“Take a seat. It doesn’t matter which seat you take, just make sure you’re both facing me.” Charlie instructs. 

Both boys do as asked. 

“Okay, from now on neither of you can talk to the other. You can only talk to me. Understand?” 

Dean and Castiel give identical nods. 

“Good. This is the first stage. There is another one after and we will give you more information about that once this one is finished.” Charlie continues. “Much like your video submission, for this round you will be answering questions based on living together.” 

Dean tries to concentrate on what Charlie is saying but the stools really are close together and Castiel’s knee is knocking against his own. The small spot of warmth from the other man both relaxes and makes Dean anxious at the same time. But Dean daren’t move his leg away. Castiel would wonder why he’d moved away and probably get a little pouty frown on his face. The same as he did the night before when Dean had finally got up from the couch because he needed the bathroom. 

“And remember, the main rule of these questions is: what happens in this room stays in the room. Got it?”

Dean swallows and nods. He’d missed a bit of what Charlie had said but he’d probably figure it out. 

“Awesome. Let’s begin.” Charlie smiles. “First question: what do you like most about living together?” 

Dean knows what he’d like to answer but he’ll never confess. Instead, he goes for a more playful answer. “I like that Castiel gets free donuts from his job at the coffee shop.” 

From the corner of his eye he can see Castiel roll his eyes. “I like that Dean has a brother that I can have much more intellectually stimulating conversations with,” Castiel replies with a smug face. 

Dean would argue but he’s not allowed to speak directly to Castiel. (And to be honest, his brother may only be eighteen but he is freakishly clever.)

Charlie smirks and shakes her head as she writes down their answers. 

“Next: What do you hate most about living together?” 

This time Castiel gets his answer in first. “I hate that Dean leaves dirty socks around the apartment.” 

Now Dean rolls his eyes. Castiel is always nagging Dean about his socks. They didn’t need to come all the way down here for Castiel to get that off his chest. 

“I hate that you always put the empty milk carton back in the fridge. It’s gross dude.” 

Castiel levels Dean with a look that says ‘you do that too and you know it’. 

Dean just shrugs. 

After another few questions, the first round is over and Charlie allows them to have a break. Only they’re still not allowed to talk to each other so they go into the first room and sit at either ends. 

Dean is tempted to text Castiel from across the room but he knows Charlie would be hugely pissed if she found out he broke the rules. 

Soon enough, they’re called back into the question room. 

When they enter they’re met with the same two stools but this time there’s a solid white screen between them. 

As they take their seats again, Castiel disappears behind the partition and Dean suddenly realises why it’s probably there. It’s probably an attempt to be more honest with each other because they won’t see the other’s immediate reaction. 

“Okay,” Charlie begins again, “it’s the same rules as before. I’ll ask you some questions again. And remember: what happens in this room, stays in this room.” 

Dean takes a deep breath. He hates being reminded of that. As if Charlie knows he’s not telling the full truth. Which, of course, he isn’t. But they don’t know that. 

“First question: what has been the worst thing about living together?”

Dean internally rolls his eyes, how can he think of another bullshit jokey answer?

His thoughts are stopped by Castiel softly clearing his throat on the other side of the wall. Dean can do nothing but look at Charlie sitting opposite them. She seems to be sending Castiel a kind smile. 

“The worst thing,” Castiel begins, “was that you were hurting so much when your mom died and I couldn’t do anything to help take the pain away.” The end of the sentence comes out in almost a whisper. 

Dean is overwhelmed. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He doesn’t often talk about his mother’s death, not even with Castiel. That was one of the lowest moments of his life. But Castiel had been his rock. Cleaning up after him when he was in depressed moods, dragging him out of bars and shoving him in the shower to sober up. God, Dean would have flunked out of college by now if Castiel hadn’t saved him. 

“You did just by being there, man.” Dean whispers, tears coming to his eyes. He takes a small breath and sits in the silence for a few moments. “Dammit, you promise that whatever happens in here, stays in here?” He asks Charlie. 

“Well, from my point of view, yes. I will not discuss the details of your answers outside the parameters of the study, and your names will be anonymised when your data is used in the final report. However, it’s up to you two if it carries on with you outside these four walls. 

Dean takes a shaky breath, letting Charlie’s answer wash over him for a moment. 

“I would never judge you or be angry at you for anything, Dean.” Castiel’s kind voice rumbles through the partition. 

And if that ain’t Castiel summed up perfectly, Dean thinks. Castiel is the most thoughtful and selfless person Dean has ever met. And Dean loves him. 

Dean feels like he might just burst if he doesn’t finally put his feelings into physical words. 

Castiel would forgive Dean of anything. It’s that thought that pushes Dean to take a final, calming deep breath and jump. 

“Fuck it, you wanna know the worst thing about living with Cas?” Dean asks, rhetorically. “It’s that every day I look at him and see everything I could ever want but can never have.” Dean finally confesses. And once the floodgates are open, he finds that he just can’t stop. “It terrifies me that one day he’ll leave for someone better.” 

Dean thinks he can hear a soft noise coming from Castiel’s side but he’s not done. 

“And the thing I really hate the most having Cas as a roommate? It’s that my fucking heart breaks a little more every time he walks through the door because I know one day it’ll be the last.”

Dean can’t bring himself to look at Charlie so he looks down at his hands, nervously playing with them in his lap. 

No sound comes from Castiel’s side and Dean closes his eyes in defeat and sheer regret. He’s ruined everything for sure. He should have known Castiel wouldn’t feel the same. He should have just kept it to himself. 

As if to prove Dean right, he hears footsteps in the quiet room. Footsteps that he’d recognise anywhere. 

Great, Castiel has left which means Charlie’s research is probably ruined too. 

Fuck, shit. Can’t Dean get anything fucking right?

Only, when he listens more carefully, he notices the footsteps aren’t retreating. In fact, they sound like they’re coming closer and closer to Dean. 

Dean finally opens his eyes and lifts his head to see Castiel standing in front of him. The overhead light is positioned perfectly behind his head and creates a ring of pure light around him. 

Castiel silently lifts a hand to Dean’s chin, cupping it ever so slightly. Dean can’t help but fall for Castiel all over again, just looking into his eyes. 

“I know Charlie didn’t ask it yet but would you like to know what I love most about living with you, Dean?”

Dean nods, eyes never leaving Castiel’s. 

“It’s that I fall in love with you more and more every day, and I’m completely helpless to stop it.” 

Dean can’t believe what he’s hearing and assumes this must all be a dream. 

Dream or not, he’s not taking any chances and letting Castiel slip away. 

Dean pushes himself up from his seat to meet Castiel’s lips and bring him into a kiss. 

This definitely isn’t a dream, Dean thinks, he’s never felt something so intense in his life. 

They finally part once Charlie awkwardly clears her throat, reminding them that she’s still there. 

They still don’t turn their attention to her though. Instead, Castiel rests his head against Dean’s and whispers between them “This definitely isn’t staying in this room.” 

-

A/N: I quite liked writing this, I hope you enjoyed reading it! 

Please REBLOG if you liked it. 

If you enjoy my works and would like to be added to my tags list, let me know!

-

TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @breathingdestiel @simplymisha

@thekingslover @aelysianmuse @2musiclover2 @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @50shadesofsubtext @destielle @carryoncastiel @winchester-novak @angelwithashotguun @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @chaoticdean @jensenacklesruinedmylife @huckleberryhusbands @good-things-do-happen-dean @irlydontknoanymore @little-greek5 @joana-the-banana @findingfantazja1627 @fevercas

@mishha @casbelieves @duckyboos-blog @rambleoncas @destiel4life @bastard-man-barba @fiercedean @jackk-o-lanterns @aurastiel @castyel @joharvele

#destiel #destiel fic #dean winchester #castiel #destielfanficnet #myfic #fluff #angst #first kiss #au #collegeau #3k #friends to lovers #student!dean #student!cas #minor:charlie

[blkgirlcafe]

Professor Nasty Pt. 2

Professor! Florian Munteanu x Black! Reader

Warning: Rough sex, unprotected sex, cheating, undefined age gap, dirty talking, slight degrading.

I keep my description of the reader pretty vague, make her how you want, but she black fosho. I am trying to get better at writing from a Y/N perspective, so any constructive criticism is welcomed.

Thank you @dersha89​ for the inspiration.  Thank you love!

The Chinese food they ended up ordering was just being pushed around her plate. 

“What's wrong, you've been so quiet since you got here. Did he fail your paper again, dude can be so hard.” Fynn shoved fried rice into his mouth, bits dropping everywhere. 

“Just tired.” 

Fynn rolled his eyes, “Then go to bed.” 

Y/N stood, taking her plate and shoving it in the fridge. 

“I’m going home, you can play your game without being worried about me.” 

Part of Y/N knew she was taking her bad attitude out of Fynn not that he deserved it, she had literally cheated on him hours ago and now she was being bitchy. 

“Fine, maybe we can link when you fix your attitude, I didn't do anything to you.” 

Y/N didn't even stay to hear the rest, just grabbed her stuff to head back to her apartment, where she should have gone in the first place. 

Thank god her two roommates were out, she closed and locked the door to her room, not wanting to be disturbed. Y/N turned on her soft music playlist and tried to get some studying done, but nothing was clicking. She kept thinking about Mr. Munteanu and what had happened. She opened the text thread a few times, reading the message, trying to decipher things that weren't there. His message was clear and concise, he wanted to see her again. And Y/N wanted to see him too. 

So she texted him back. 

Where am I headed?

“Hello trick, you off in LaLa Land?” Chris waved her hand in front of Y/N’s face. 

Y/N snapped out her daydream, today was Friday and she was absolutely frazzled by what could happen tonight. He had sent her an address, one not far from the school, and told her to dress sexy. 

“No, just tired.” 

“If I hear that shit one more time, I swear.” Chris grabbed a fry from Y/N’s uneaten plate. 

“Well I am, what you want me to say.” 

“The truth, first you fight with Fynn for no damm reason, you been MIA all fucking week, and I finally track you down and you barely can string a sentence together. I’m not stupid.”

“You sure, cause you went back to Jason 4 times.” Y/N snapped. 

“Ohh that was low, you def hiding something chick. Let me find out.” Chris was staring her down and it made Y/N squirm. 

“Look I am sorry, that was low, my bad. But I am stressed, school, being away from family, being one of the few black women at this school, not being able to find decent hair products. I could go on.” 

Y/N could tell that Chris was not buying it at all. They had been friends since freshman year and they could read each other. 

“Imma let you slide, but when you are ready to tell me the truth, just know I am here. And Fynn getting on my fucking nerves, he keeps asking me whats wrong with you and how he can make it better.”

That made Y/N feel even worst, Fynn was trying his hardest to be a good guy and here she was out here being scum. 

“I’ll make it up to him.” 

“Hopefully with this that you ask me to bring.” 

Chris put a bag on the table, and Y/N smiled on the inside. Chris was the queen of dressing fly and sexy. She made anything look good. Whenever Y/N need an outfit she shopped Chris closet. 

Y/N had asked Chris to bring her dress and she had delivered. Y/N pulled the dress out, giving it a look. A blue mini dress that sparkled, it left very little to the imagination. This was a no bra type of dress, the straps super thin. 

“Damm this is dope, thank you.”

“No problem and I dont need it back, what is it for?”

“Going to surprise Fynn.” Y/N lied. 

“Pair it with those clear pumps you have and girl you will be looking irresistible. Promise. Look I gotta go, hit me up and let me know how it goes.” 

Chris stole a few more fries before blowing Y/N a kiss and leaving her to sit and wonder if she was making a good choice. 

Y/N checked herself one more time before she went downstairs to wait for her cab. The blue mini dress looked perfect against her brown skin. The twist out that she did had came out perfect, light makeup, a gold necklace with her initial sat center on her chest. Another coat of lipgloss and finally a spray of Rogue by Ms. Fenty and she was ready to go. 

And of course Chris was right about the clear pumps, they went perfectly with the dress. She looked great, Y/N snapped a quick picture before grabbing her clutch and heading out. Trying to sneak past her roommates was not an option, they whistled as she walked past, paying her compliments and saying how lucky Fynn was. 

If only they knew that Fynn wasn't the lucky one. 

The whole ride to his condo was nerve wracking, Y/N alternated between bouncing her leg and checking her phone obsessively. Part of her hoped he would cancel, and she could go see Fynn and make it up to him. 

The cab dropped her off in front of a high rise, she didn't know the going rate for a professor but she didn't think it was this. The place was nicer than she expected with a doorman outside. 

Stepping into the elevator Y/N knew there was no turning back, she was here and her panties were already damp and the possibility of fucking Mr. Munteanu again. The quickie they had on the desk was just a taste, a teaser of what it was like to be with a man. 

“You look gorgeous Miss Y/F/N” 

Y/N shyly looked down as Mr. Munteanu looked her over, he sucked his bottom lip in as he traced the hem of the short dress. 

“Thank you Sir.”

“Here, you can call me Flo or Daddy sweetie, come in.” 

The door closed behind her and suddenly she was pushed against the wall. Florian grabbed Y/N neck, making her look up at him. He kissed her, soft at first before aggressively overpowering her. Y/N hands landed on his chest, the feeling of the hard muscle of her hands. Y/N gasped when he pulled away, her chest heaved as she gulped down air. 

“This is going to be fun Miss Y/F/N.” 

“If I can call you Daddy, I'm sure you can find something better to call me.” she smirked.��

“Is that right babygirl, don’t worry I have all night to come up with names to call you.” Florian dragged Y/N to the couch, pushing her over the arm. 

Y/N ass was in the air, the dress which was already short, pushed up. Florian parted her legs, standing between them as he ran a finger up and down the wet crotch of her panties. 

“Guess I should call you slut for being wet already, I’ve barely touched you.”

“I’ve been thinking of you all week.” her voice was weak. 

“Good.” was all he said as he pulled her panties down. Florian kneeled between her legs, the first bite surprising her. Y/N squirmed and Florian gave her ass a light smack. 

“Let Daddy take care of you.” 

Y/N moaned as Florian bit and sucked her thighs, slowly working his way up to her dripping wet pussy. 

“I like to take my time baby, what's the point if I can't slowly devour you.” 

“Please…” 

Y/N was not used to this, Fynn was only her 4th sexual partner. Foreplay usually lasted a few minutes if she was lucky.

The first kiss to her wet core sent shivers up her spine. The professor slowly made out with her pussy, the sloppy kissing turned into his tongue slowly licking her from top to bottom. His pace was so slow and torturous that Y/N’s hips tried to follow his movement. He repeated the same move and his teasing was too much for her to take. 

“Please Daddy, more.”

Y/N pleas feel on deaf ears, he was enjoying this too much. Y/N gasped when he sucked her clit into his mouth, the small bundle of nerves suddenly over simulated. Y/N never felt a pleasure like this, he was being a teacher in more than one way. 

His lips released her clit, his wide tongue driving into her wet slit. Quickly diving in and out, Y/N rocked on his face. Y/N fist balled as her legs shook, Florian was being merciless, eating her with a passion that she never felt. Y/N was just paralyzed with pleasure, the way he changed pace from slow to fast, back to slow. The way he sucked her clit then tongue fucked her. He was a man that knew what he was doing, a skilled man. 

“Oh my God!!” moaned Y/N, the way the orgasm took over her whole body, she felt it rushing through her veins. 

Florian stood, his jeans grinding against her wet and sensitive pussy. 

He leaned down, kissed her neck before whispering,“ Do you want to know what I'm going to do to you all night?” Right in her ear. 

Y/N was still breathless from the mind shattering orgasm, that she couldn't speak, she just shook her head. Florian grabbed her hair, so that she was facing him. 

“I’m going to fuck you like a man should, you will never want a boy again when I am finished with you.” 

With one hand still tangled in her hair, something she would never let Fynn do, Y/N heard the sound of his jeans being undone. Her body still recovering from the tongue lashing that he gave her didn't have time to prepare for him or his thick dick. 

“Fuck!” they both said. Y/N from the way he stretched her out, and Florian from the way her walls wrapped around him. 

Florian released her hair, putting his hands on either side of her, slowly feeding her inch by inch, wanting to savor the feeling of her walls hugging him. Y/N didn't want that, she wanted all of him and now. 

“Please go deeper Daddy, I need it.” she begged, her nails dug into his arm. Y/N pushed back, wanting all of his thick length to be inside of her. 

Florian moaned, he promised himself he would take his time, but he couldn't hold back. He snapped his hips into hers, burying every last inch into her. Gone was the slow tender strokes, he pounded into her. 

“Give me a kiss baby girl.” 

Y/N turned her face to kiss him, but couldn't focus because of how he was fucking her. Soft kisses barely made it to his lips until he stopped moving. Florian grabbed her jaw and kissed her, tongues battling it out, he grinded his hips into her, watching her melt. Florian finally pulled away, resting his forehead on her back. 

Y/N felt surrounded by him, his powerful arms on either side of her, digging into the material of the couch. His chest against her back, she couldn't move if she wanted to, she was trapped and happy about it. 

Pain mixed with pleasure as his strokes sped up, both chasing their own orgasm. Y/N clung to him as her legs trembled and she let out a loud moan. 

Florian kept fucking her through the orgasm, he never experienced this with any other woman, wanting to completely consume her in each way possible. 

“Fuck, Im cumming baby.” 

His body went riding on top of her, as he released a flood inside of her. Y/N wasn't sure she would move if she wanted to, she felt drained of energy and completely happy. 

When Florian finally moved off of her, pulling up his boxers before sitting on the couch, Y/N stood on unsteady legs. Y/N looked around for her panties and bag. She fixed her dress, she could feel his seed dripping out of her. She had turned around to pick up her panties when she felt his presence behind her. 

She stood, panties in hand. 

He moved her hair out the way, softly kissing her neck, “You don't need them, I am nowhere near done with you.”

#Florian #florian munteanu smut #florian x reader #florian x black!reader #creed #smuttywriter

[bedlamsbard]

Part two of the reluctant roommates AU concept!  A reminder that my concept writing is deliberately not titled, chaptered, or betaed and is generally low pressure writing.  (I think to some extent I burned myself out on the titled stuff, but that’s for another post.)

Previous: Part 1

About 8.2K below the break.

Please note that while I don’t generally do content advisories, this contains discussion of fairly severe (unnamed) depression and anxiety, as well as physical abuse (about the same as other Inquisitor!Kanan concepts).

*

Agent Syndulla’s fear made Kanan’s back teeth ache, leeching into his dreams and giving him a flurry of nightmares that he knew had to come from her, not from within himself.  He woke with a start and lay in the unfamiliar bunk with one arm thrown up over his eyes, feeling like a voyeur despite the fact that he hadn’t done it on purpose.  Dreams weren’t a reflection of reality by any means, but they often had more to do with it than most people wanted to believe.  From what he had seen in Agent Syndulla’s dreams, most of them had been drawn from her memory.  He wished he didn’t know that.

At least it made a change of pace from his usual nightmares.

Eventually he made himself get up, wincing as his recently broken ribs twinged with the movement. They were mostly healed now, but were still fragile and painful, liable to get broken again if he wasn’t careful for the next week or so.  With any luck, this particular assignment wouldn’t involve getting shot or stabbed or thrown off in any cliffs, though given the way the past decade had gone Kanan wasn’t sure he really believed in luck anymore.  He still felt as though he had used up whatever he had remaining to him getting away from the Hunter for however long that lasted.

He dressed slowly, careful of the ribs as well as the rest of his assortment of healing bruises, cuts, and other miscellaneous injuries.  Some were from the assignment where he had gotten his broken; some were the Hunter’s parting gift, since his master had been extremely displeased by the order that split them up for the foreseeable future and Kanan had taken the brunt of his ire.  He touched his tongue to what he thought was a loose tooth and winced at the confirmation, feeding the Force through it to reseat it in the gum.

He could sense the Agent Syndulla was awake now, her attention focused on something other than her fear.  Kanan delayed leaving his cabin again as long as he could, not wanting to disturb her, but eventually had to answer the call of the refresher.  He was washing his hands when he sensed her sudden realization that he was awake and the spike of terror that followed, and winced.  He was used to people being afraid of Inquisitors, but usually his master got the bulk of that kind of attention; when it was aimed at Kanan it tended to be mixed with an odd kind of pity and relief.  People in the Imperial service expected nonhuman Inquisitors; they didn’t expect human Inquisitors, especially one with the right accent and one who was so obviously subordinate – as well as other things – to a Pau’an. Service members looked at the Hunter and felt fear; they looked at Kanan and thought, thank the gods that isn’t me.  It shouldn’t have surprised him that a nonhuman officer would feel differently.

He splashed water on his face, running a finger along the line of his jaw and the new growth of beard there; he eyed it in the mirror and decided to leave it for now.  It was something he hadn’t had at the Crucible, anyway, and at the moment he felt rather desperate for anything to remind him he wasn’t just the Hunter’s Hound.

He ran his damp fingers through his hair, finger-combing it, then drew it back into a short tail at the back of his skull.  When he couldn’t think of anything else he could do to delay, he went back out into the corridor, and then up to the cockpit where he could sense her presence.

She jumped as the door slid open, having obviously not heard his approach, and Kanan flinched back, startled by her reaction.  They stared at each other for a few moments as her astromech grumbled threateningly at him, then Agent Syndulla dropped her gaze back to the datapad she was holding.

She was a beautiful woman, the kind of woman he would have tried to seduce back before the Hunter had dragged him to the Crucible and beaten the spirit out of him, and he thought he probably could have succeeded, too.  He was hardly about to try now; for one thing, she was clearly terrified of him, and for another, the idea of letting anyone else touch him after the past few years was agonizing.  Even a pretty girl.

He said, “Can I get you some caf, while I’m up?”

She gave him a wary look, then said hesitantly, “All right.”

“How do you take it?”

“Milk and sugar,” she said after a moment. “A lot of both.”

Kanan nodded to her in what he hoped was a friendly fashion – he wasn’t sure he knew how to do that anymore – and let the door slide shut between them as he stepped back.  He took his time making the caf, pouring equal amounts of milk and sugar into her cup, and enough sugar into his that the spoon nearly stood up.  He had started drinking caf while he was in the field with the Grand Army of the Republic a decade ago, and after the first time he had spat out his mouthful – to the uproarious laughter of Styles and Gray and Depa Billaba’s barely concealed amusement – any clone who had made it for him had sweetened it enough to be tolerable for his palate.  He’d never lost the taste for it that way.

He took both mugs back to the cockpit.  Agent Syndulla didn’t jump when he came in this time, but she had clearly been braced for his return.  She took the mug from him with polite murmured thanks but didn’t sit back in her chair, sitting with the balls of her feet pressed against the deck, as if bracing herself against the need to suddenly flee.  Kanan prudently took the seat furthest from her and only belatedly realized it was the one nearest both exits.  He could tell from her fast, sideways glance towards the door to the living quarters and the hatch to the hold that she knew it too.  The droid grumbled again, rolling so that he was placed defiantly between the two of them, then swiveled his dome to glare at Kanan.

 Agent Syndulla took a sip of her caf, looking a little wary at first, then surprised.  “I didn’t know it could taste like this,” she blurted out.

“I worked in a tapcaf once,” Kanan offered. “Some of it stuck.”

She looked badly startled by that response.

He could have told her that he hadn’t always been an Inquisitor, but he wasn’t in the mood for the kinds of questions that might inspire.  He sat back and drank his own caf instead; neither the caffeine nor the sugar would do much for him, since Force-users processed most kinds of stimulants too fast for them to have any meaningful effect, but the taste helped wake him up.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking their caf, until Agent Syndulla finally settled herself, as if bracing for a fight, and said, “I’ve been looking at the files you sent me.”

Kanan raised his gaze to her.  She was, if nothing else, lovely to look at, but she wouldn’t have made it to the ISB or lasted this long if she was just a pretty face.  She clearly didn’t enjoy being under his scrutiny, though – most people weren’t when it came to Inquisitors – so after a moment he flicked his gaze slightly away from her.

“There’s an auction the day after we’re scheduled to arrive,” she went on, after a moment’s brief hesitation. “We could call in the local Imperial garrison for backup, but if the regulars could deal with this, then they would have done so by now.”

“This isn’t the sort of thing they’re really equipped to handle,” Kanan said.  If it had been, no one would have bothered to send an Inquisitor and an ISB agent to deal with it.  Though he had his suspicions about why the Whip had assigned it to him as his first solo assignment.  He was less certain about what it had to do with Agent Syndulla and didn’t have enough of an idea about the ISB’s internal politics to even begin to guess.

She nodded in response to his comment. “Depending what the situation is like, we might want them later, but Barzhun doesn’t have a large Imperial presence.  As far off the beaten path as it is, it’s not impossible that the local garrison has some sort of relationship with the black market there. It isn’t unheard of.”

And was usually the job of the ISB to deal with, though on occasion the Inquisition dealt with corrupt officials instead.  Kanan nodded. “What do you want to do?”

She looked a little surprised that he hadn’t just tried to give her an order.  Kanan said in explanation, “Most of my assignments have either interfaced directly with the local garrisons or been – ah, more direct. And my ma – I wasn’t the one who did any of the planning.”

He saw her lekku twitch slightly at the slip, but she didn’t ask about it.  Instead she braced her shoulders again and said, “Can you pass as a civilian?”

Kanan glanced down, giving the question due consideration because it had been a long time since he had been in a position where that was even an option and he wasn’t immediately certain of the answer.  “Yes,” he said eventually, “but I don’t have any civilian clothes.”

When she looked a little worried, he added, “I’ve got clothes that don’t have the Imperial seal on them.”  And there were plenty of civilians who only wore black or gray.  “You’ll have to lend me a blaster, though.”

She met his gaze for an instant. “Can you use one?”

“I wasn’t always an Inquisitor.”  He looked her over, this time with a more a critical eye than he had done before; past her prettiness she was muscled under her gray ISB field uniform, her holstered blaster a natural extension of both uniform and self.  He had also noticed earlier that her lekku signals were erratic, not quite explicable to anyone familiar with Twi’leks   “Can you pass as a civilian?”

“I’ve done it before.” She glanced down, clearly uncomfortable under his inspection. “Chopper too.”

“That I can believe,” Kanan said.

That startled something that was nearly a smile out of her, a quick flash of amusement that warmed the Force for no more than an instant as the astromech grumbled at them both. Then she dropped her gaze again. “The HoloNet posting on the darknet said that there would be a reception the night before the auction for potential bidders to review the items up for auction.  I assume that you’ll recognize what we’re looking for?”

 Kanan nodded. “I’ll know.” And a Twi’lek and a human together wouldn’t make anyone look twice at them, no matter how they played it.  Both were common species and common in company with each other.

Agent Syndulla looked at the chrono, then said, “We should be making planetfall in two hours and the reception is in six.”

“All right.”  He started to stand up, putting his hand out for her empty caf cup.

She handed it to him once she realized what the gesture meant, then hesitated, looking up at him. Kanan stopped rather than leave the way he had intended to.  “What is it?”

“I can’t call you ‘Inquisitor’ in the field,” she said, sounding uncomfortable. “Do you – do you have a name? That I can use, I mean?”

Kanan bit his lip. She didn’t know how loaded that question was, and he wasn’t about to answer her with “the Hound.”  Still, it took him a surprising amount of effort to say, “It’s Kanan.”

No one had called him that in almost four years.  Sometimes he was surprised that he could remember it at all.

Something about either his face or his voice must have made her realize the gravity of the confession. She said, her voice suddenly very shy, “Thank you.”  She hesitated, then said, “My name is Hera.”

He hadn’t been expecting that, and the surprise must have showed on his face.  She shifted uneasily in her seat, then looked away, embarrassed. “I’ve sent you the ISB files on the local garrison and government,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if you had them.”

“I don’t.  Thank you.”  He looked back at her for a moment, putting personal name and surname together, and blurted out, “Syndulla is a clan name.”

Her eyes went wide. He felt her low-grade anxiety snap into sudden fear, jolted from its previous course onto a new path. “Yes,” she said eventually, small-voiced, and then, with a defensive edge, “There are thousands of Syndullas.”

“I’m sorry,” Kanan said; he could tell he had said something that he should have avoided.

She dropped her gaze, but it didn’t do anything to hide the unease juddering along the Force.

“I’m sorry,” Kanan said again, then fled before he said anything else stupid.

*

Hera knew from personal experience that she mostly just looked uncomfortable in civilian clothes, which wasn’t exactly something she could do anything about.  She suspected that if she had been human she could have attended the black market auction in an Imperial uniform, if not an ISB one, and not had anyone look twice at her, but a Twi’lek in uniform always got attention. At the moment she felt even more obvious in her plain dark spacer’s trousers and jacket, as if she was wearing a beacon or a sign that said “I’m an Imperial agent, ask me how.”

She snuck a sideways look at the Inquisitor, who was slouching in the co-pilot’s chair next to her. Hera didn’t like having him that close, but since they were working together she couldn’t exactly justify not letting him be there as long as he didn’t touch anything.  She supposed that he had to be able to fly, though she doubted he had ever flown a freighter like the Ghost before.  Basic piloting was required for officer candidates at the Imperial academy, but unless you were tapped for pilot training, the Naval Academy, or the ISB Academy, most officers never actually had to fly anything larger than a landspeeder or anything faster than a speeder bike.  She had no idea what Inquisitors learned or how they were trained.

Without his armor or his lightsaber he looked less like an Inquisitor than she had been worried about – less so than she still felt she looked like an Imperial agent, even dressed in all black.  He wore the DL-18 blaster pistol she had found for him – its grip was too big to be comfortable in her own hand, so she had thought it might work for him – and somehow managed to look as if he had been carrying a blaster for most of his life, not a lightsaber.

He straightened up as they entered atmosphere and entered one of the flight lanes on approach to the planet’s capital city.  If any of the other ships in the flight lane happened to glance into the Ghost’s cockpit, they would see a pilot and a copilot both apparently doing their jobs, though Hera hoped the Inquisitor didn’t actually touch anything.

“You can fly, can’t you?” she asked him reluctantly.

He flicked a glance at her. “Yes.”

“Freighters or just starfighters?”

“I’ve flown freighters,” he said after a moment. “Not recently, but I’ve done it.  Cargo freighters, mostly, short-haul – longer haul sometimes, but not as a regular thing.”

Hera turned to look at him in surprise, trusting Chopper not to let the Ghost veer off course.  The Inquisitor was stubbornly not looking at her, his gaze fixed on the viewport in front of him.  I wasn’t always an Inquisitor, he had said a few hours ago.  She had assumed that that meant he had been elsewhere in the Imperial service before he had been recruited by the Inquisition, though he wasn’t that much older than she was.  Well, people came to the Academy from all walks of life, especially those recruited by the flight academies, who could sometimes skip normal Academy training. Presumably the Inquisition operated similarly.

She didn’t have anything to say in response to him and he didn’t seem to expect one, so she turned her attention back to their flight path.  She set down in one of the spaceports in Kethun City, the planet’s capital, and had the Inquisitor transmit the docking fee while she and Chopper shut down the ship’s engines.

Hera eyed him again once they were outside the ship, standing in the small docking bay and trying not to frown at the drift of wind-blown dirt and yellowish pollen that coated the floor.  She sneezed involuntarily, her eyes watering, and dug into her pocket for the allergy tablets she had grabbed when she realized what season it was here.  She dry-swallowed them and hoped that on this occasion they wouldn’t make her sleepy, which they seemed to do at entirely random intervals rather than consistently.

In the thin light of the overcast sky that filtered down through the open hatch doors above them, the Inquisitor’s dark garments looked pale, nearly washed out.  Black didn’t suit him, especially in daylight.  Hera looked at him, sneezed again, then wiped at her streaming eyes and said, “We should probably get you more clothes.”

He flicked a wary glance at her, then relaxed slightly at whatever he saw on her face. “Is it that bad?”

“If we’re going to several days of receptions and auctions,” Hera said.  On some of her ops he would be unremarkable, but he would stand out amongst the kind of people who attended black market auctions, and not in a good way.

“All right,” he said, sounding more weary than anything else. “Let’s go find the market.”

*

Hera was startled at how much the addition of colors to his garments changed the Inquisitor’s appearance. He looked deeply uncomfortable, as though he knew he wasn’t supposed to be wearing anything other than black and gray, but his green shirt brought out color in his face and pale eyes and eased some of the hollows in his scarred cheeks.  Hera thought that he wouldn’t raise eyebrows or twitch tentacles in company now, or at least not for the reasons he would have done before.  He also looked younger, more vulnerable, less dangerous; she wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good thing, but there was nothing she could do about it.

Hera hated paying any attention to her appearance other than making sure that her uniform was neat and that none of her caste markings were showing, but for this particular occasion she made sure that she was wearing something that at least suggested she had more money than the average spacer.  She didn’t even own any clothes that could pass muster as something a high-caste Twi’lek would wear, not that that was a distinction that would make much sense off Ryloth or outside the enclaves.  Maybe not even the enclaves, but Hera avoided them whenever possible and had no idea what went on there.  Being among other Twi’leks made her so nervous that it was often debilitating; she had almost failed her ISB Academy field trials for just that reason.

She left Chopper with the Ghost; even though this wasn’t her usual kind of op, she knew that in this setting an astromech droid might stand out – Chopper certainly had no talent for being unobtrusive.  She and the Inquisitor got their cloaks and the speeder bikes from the Ghost’s hold – while the city was small enough they could have walked, there was always the chance that they would need to make a quick getaway.  Hera felt a little better with the handles under her hands, anyway.

She watched the Inquisitor out of the corner of her eye as they sped down the road towards the site of the reception.  He handled his speeder with a light, delicate touch, less heavy-handed than a scout trooper – more like a starfighter pilot than anything else, but not a TIE pilot, she decided after a few minutes of silent observation.  That puzzled her, since privately owned starfighters were illegal except under very rare circumstances – not that you couldn’t make those circumstances come about with enough credits – and the vast majority of those available were TIE-variants.  He must have learned on one of the others, since she knew Inquisitors flew TIEs.  If he was aware of her attention, he didn’t show it.

They pulled up in front of a neon-lit nightclub, where they handed their speeder bikes over to a parking droid and received a claim token in exchange.  Hera tucked it away, bemused, and fell into step with the Inquisitor as they made their way to join the queue at the door.  The sound of pounding music from inside made her wince; she hated clubs and crowds alike.

The bouncer let both of them in after relieving them of their blasters, for which they both received claim tokens.  If the Inquisitor had his lightsaber on him, the scanner didn’t turn it up; Hera wasn’t certain whether he had brought it or not, and hadn’t been about to ask. Hopefully he wasn’t so trigger-happy as to pull it out without absolute necessity, but having never seen him in action Hera had absolutely no idea.

Once they were inside and past the initial crush of people at the door, Hera surveyed the wide dark room beyond with distaste; it was full of beings of various species dancing, drinking, and eating, with a stage set up at the far end and a band playing something that she supposed technically counted as music, assuming you had no taste.

She glanced at the Inquisitor to make sure he followed her, then edged around the dance floor, past several shadowed – and definitely occupied – nooks.  Hera fixed the instructions from the darknet posting in the front of her mind and hoped that the Inquisitor remembered them too.

After several minutes and a handful of propositions – to both of them, not just her, which was a refreshing change – they made it to the back of the club.  A back hallway led to the kitchens and some refreshers that Hera suspected were intended for the staff rather than the patrons, as well as a door with a keypad on the control next to it.  Hera punched in the code from the darknet, holding her breath until the door slid open, revealing descending stairs.  It slid shut again as the Inquisitor stepped in after her and the pounding music from the club vanished as cleanly as if it had been cut by a knife.  Hera let out her breath in relief.

She went down the stairs with the Inquisitor at her back and emerged into another room.  It was a little smaller than the dancefloor above them, but more brightly lit and with far fewer people.  There were still a good number of beings, but they were older than the club-goers and mostly more finely dressed.  A pair of Togruta lounge singers draped themselves over the top of some kind of big instrument being played by a Nautolan who struck keys with a number of small hammers held expertly between his fingers.

A serving droid came up to Hera and offered a tray with a selection of stemmed and un-stemmed glasses holding a variety of colored liquid.  “Drinks, madam, sir?  I have alcoholic or non-alcoholic as you prefer –”

“Non-alcoholic,” Hera said; she could tell she was in the mood where alcohol would make her paranoid and angry, even if she drank on the job, which she didn’t unless there was no choice.

“The same.”  The Inquisitor’s voice was soft.

The droid obligingly rotated the tray for Hera. “I have fruit juices, carbonated beverages, flavored waters from a variety of worlds –”

Hera accepted a glass of what she hoped was meiloorun juice – it was about the right color – and was gratified to find she was right when she tasted it.  The Inquisitor chose a glass apparently at random and took a perfunctory sip; she suspected he had taken it mostly to have something to do with his hands.

Once the droid had gone, she sipped her drink and looked around the room.  Another look revealed that there were a number of tall display cases placed at regular intervals; the beings gathered around them had obscured them from Hera’s initial observation.  She flicked a look at the Inquisitor to make sure that he had seen them too, then moved towards the nearest one.

The beings already there – a trio of Rodian males, an Ithorian couple, and a human of indeterminate gender – all glanced up at their approach, briefly registered their appearance, then went back to their conversation.  The male Ithorian moved aside so that Hera and the Inquisitor had a better look at the contents of the display case.

She heard the Inquisitor hiss softly through clenched teeth.  The sound made the Rodians twitch, looking over at him before apparently deciding it was an expression of interest rather than – whatever it was.  Hera glanced up at him worriedly, decided it was unlikely that he was going to snap and go on a murder spree – at least not in the next thirty seconds – and looked back at the case.

The contents were unremarkable, at least to her eyes – a set of four small sculptures of various near-human beings in long robes holding upraised lightsabers in different poses. They were made of some pale gray stone she didn’t recognize.

Hera was trying to figure out a discreet way to ask if this was what they were looking for when she realized that under the current circumstances, there was no real point in being discreet.  She looked at the Inquisitor and said, “Is that it?”

He nodded without saying anything, his expression grim.

They moved onto the next display case, which held more statues and a stained glass window propped up with a light behind it.  Hera glanced at the Inquisitor again and saw the tightness in his jaw; she didn’t bother asking this time, since his face was answer enough.

They rotated through several more display cases, all of which got the Inquisitor’s nod.  Now and then someone new would come down the stairs, but by and large the occupants ignored each other, except for a handful who all obviously knew and liked each other well enough to speak to one another. Hera supposed that there weren’t too many people in the galaxy who traded in Jedi relics and most of them were probably in this room with her; she wished she had dared come down with a recording device so that the ISB could match known names to faces.

The serving droid came up to them again to take their empty glasses – well, to take Hera’s empty glass; the Inquisitor had barely touched his, but handed it over anyway.  Hera accepted another glass of fruit juice and drifted over to the nearest case that they hadn’t inspected yet.

She felt the air change as the Inquisitor went absolutely still beside her.

Because she knew what he was, she looked at him first, not the contents of the case; some of the other occupants of the room had felt the shift as well and were looking around warily at each other or at the cases.

He was shaking so badly that she could hear his teeth chattering together, his stillness transmuted into fury that she could feel like a weight in the air.  Hera shot a look at the case to see what it was that had upset him so badly and saw a collection of innocuous-looking thin braids and strings of mismatched beads; they struck something in her memory, but she couldn’t remember what at the moment.  She set that aside to worry about later, hesitated for an instant, and grabbed the Inquisitor’s arm.

He flinched violently at her touch, his eyes gone suddenly wild with shock.  She could feel muscle beneath her palm, stiff as steel cording; as much as she wanted to she didn’t release him. “Calm down,” she said to him, pitching her voice low but not whispering. “Do you need some air?”

He didn’t look around, but she saw awareness bleed into his panicked eyes.  He shook his head slightly and Hera felt the pressure in the air lifting as he forced himself to something resembling calm, pulling his furious response back inside his own skin.  She could still feel him trembling beneath her hand.

She pushed her half-full glass of fruit juice into his other hand. “Drink that,” she said.

He hesitated, and she snapped, furious and embarrassed, “It’s not tainted just because a tailhead drank from it.”

He shot her a startled look and said, sounding genuinely baffled, “Why would you think I thought that?”

Hera stared back at him, so surprised by that reaction that she briefly forgot why she had handed him her drink. “Humans –” she started to say, then shook her head. “Just drink it.”

He drank it.

She kept her hand on his arm until he had stopped shaking, then released him, tucking her hands awkwardly into her pockets to have something to do with them.  When he had finished the glass, he stared at the display case again, then dragged his gaze away and went off to the next one, handing the empty glass off to the serving droid as he did.  Hera followed, hoping her fury wasn’t plain on her face.  The other guests veered away from him, though something about the way they did so made Hera think they didn’t know or understand why they were doing it.

The next case only held more art, to Hera’s relief.  The Inquisitor stared blankly at the delicately figured tiles as if he didn’t really see them, though Hera suspected he knew exactly what was on them and – going by his reactions so far – what they meant.

“I suppose some of these still have some juice in them,” a passing Quarren woman said in her watery voice, and laughed.  Hera saw the Inquisitor’s shoulders tense in response.

She stepped tentatively up beside him. “We’ve seen most of it,” she said. “We’ll be back for the auction tomorrow.”

He shook his head. “I need to see all of it.”  He shut his eyes tightly, clearly trying to calm himself down even though he was still badly upset.

Hera eyed him doubtfully. Looking at him now, it was hard to remember that he was in all likelihood one of the most dangerous beings Hera had ever met; all of that coiled threat that had been there only a few moments before was gone, replaced by real distress.

She recognized the expression abruptly.  She had seen it in the mirror, on one of the occasions when she had been back at the Academy and invited to some event or another at the home of a local potentate on Naboo.  He had been a collector – “of everything,” he had said while showing cadets around his estate.  He had looked at Hera as if he was considering collecting her too, but she had managed to avoid being in any proximity to him for most of the evening, and once the other cadets began drinking heavily she had made her excuses and left early, for which rudeness she had been roundly rebuked the next day. She had been looking at his displays – arranged in order of what he thought was most attractive, not in anything that made sense – when she had turned a corner and found herself looking at a kalikori.

It wasn’t a Syndulla one, not her family’s and not from any of the patrician Syndulla families; she had known that immediately.  She hadn’t recognized the clan, but kalikori were intimately personal to each family; no one would ever let it pass out of a family line except through marriage or adoption.  But there had been a lot of looting done during the Clone Wars, and more during the Imperial occupation.

Searching further through the collection and trying not to make it look as though she was doing so, Hera had found a lararium, the household shrine each family kept, and the little figures that represented the protective spirits of a Twi’lek family, the ancestral genius and the patron lares, both separated from the lararium and the kalikori alike and jumbled together on a shelf of other small statues that Hera hadn’t recognized.  She hadn’t thought, at that point, that she had much Twi’lek feeling left after four years in the Academy.  Apparently she had been wrong about that.

It was the same expression on the Inquisitor’s face now.

She raised her gaze to the Inquisitor again, keeping her voice low as she said, “Those braids in that case – they aren’t from the High Republic, are they?”

He shook his head a little, his face a mask of grief and fury fighting for calm.  Then he looked at her sharply, some of that starting to bleed into alarm.  Hera could guess why; she didn’t know much about Jedi, but she had known enough to ask. She met his pale gaze, resisting the urge to look away; she hated making eye contact with other people and there was something disorienting about him.

It was the Inquisitor who looked away.  He swallowed, his throat working, and looked back at the tiles in the case in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he said eventually, then swallowed again.  “I need to see the rest of the items up for auction.”

Hera bit her lip. “I want to get a feel for the crowd,” she said to him. “Will you be all right on your own for a few minutes?  I don’t think we need to stay long.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said a little distantly. “I was surprised.  It won’t happen again.”

“All right,” Hera said. She stepped away from him, hoping that he actually could behave himself if left to his own devices.  It was balanced against her own nervousness about interacting with other people; she wasn’t particularly worried about being recognized as an Imperial agent, since in her experience no one ever looked at a young Twi’lek woman and came to the conclusion she was an ISB officer, usually including other members of the service, often including times when she was in uniform.  Hera was a decent field agent, but she knew that she hadn’t exactly lived up to Agent Beneke’s desires for her, which was how she had gotten this assignment with the Inquisitor in the first place.

She got another drink from the serving droid, this one a fermented fruit juice with some bubbles in it that looked alcoholic at a glance but wasn’t, and settled her shoulders before she went back to the case with the figurines in it, which had a small group of people gathered around it.  She lingered on the edge of the group, drinking her juice and listening in on the conversation – a trio of scholars debating the authenticity of the figurines, apparently.  After a few minutes of that she drifted away to another case, which held what looked like ornaments.  She glanced up to track the Inquisitor’s location in the room and saw him steadily working his way through the remaining cases, his mood like a thundercloud keeping people away from him.

“Lovely, aren’t they?”

Hera turned, pasting a polite smile on her lips, and saw a thin, white-bearded Pantoran male standing beside her.  “It’s very intricate work,” she said.

He smiled with as much appreciation as if he had been the creator rather than some long-dead Jedi. “Mirialan,” he said, indicating a pair of round belt buckles propped up on display. “Do you see the floral work around the rims and the eclipsed suns at the centers? Variations on those themes have recurred amongst Mirialan Jedi for centuries – millennia, perhaps, though the older examples are disputed.  They stem from an old Force cult on Mirial, one that hasn’t been active since before Mirial joined the Republic.  We know nothing about that cult, not even its name; it no longer has any worshipers on Mirial, but until a decade ago there were still elements of it amongst the Jedi.”

He gestured to a collection of small coppery rings, each about the length of a knuckle and inscribed with knot-like decorations.  “Weequay hair ornaments – for their braids, yes?  You still see some Weequay wearing them today, but if you ever have the occasion to examine them closely, you’ll see that the finework is all different. That’s because Weequay Jedi had their own patterns that were used back on Sriluur before the Hutts conquered the world more than eight thousand years ago.  Another Force cult, perhaps.  When Weequay were first recruited into the Jedi Order, they took the symbols with them; you won’t see them on Sriluur or the other Weequay worlds today.”

“Eight thousand years is a long time,” Hera said, since she couldn’t think of anything else to say and it seemed like the point in which he expected a response.

“Perhaps longer.  The Hutts – especially in the days of the old Hutt Empire – prefer to destroy the records of their conquered worlds, so that those worlds might seem to begin with their coming.  It’s hard on historians.”  He sighed wistfully, then looked at her more closely.

Hera resisted the urge to double-check that her markings were covered, since he seemed like the sort of person who might know that caste markings were more than just decorative tattoos the way most non-Twi’leks thought.

When she didn’t say anything one way or another, he seemed to decide that she was interested and pointed at a quartet of ivory bangles inside the case.  Each one was a double-curve, small enough to fit around a near-human’s wrist, and incised with intricate patterns, some of which had been filled in with black, red, or gold, others of which were bare.  The ivory was yellowing with age.  Something about them was familiar and Hera frowned, trying to place them.

The Pantoran saw her expression and smiled, open and pleased rather than malicious. “Ryloth river hog tusks,” he said. “I can’t pronounce the name in Twi’leki –”

“Ruti’ara,” Hera said after a moment of thought. “From a region in the equatorial jungle.  They’re extinct now.”  She didn’t say that there was a set of similar bangles in her mother’s jewelry case back on Ryloth, a gift from Cham’s grandmother – then the clan head – when they had married; they had been passed down among the women of the family for a thousand years.

She looked back at the bangles in the case, now seeing the pattern of half-familiar clan markings amongst the carvings.  “Fenn,” she said slowly.  When the Pantoran blinked, she said, “The geometric patterns, there – in black. Those are Fenn clan markings. They’re a curial clan on Ryloth –” And had been in vendettas with the Syndullas no less than three dozen times over the past thousand years, including after the Curia’s ban two centuries earlier (which everyone on Ryloth had just taken as a strong recommendation for the first few decades), but who was counting.

“The clan is still extant?” the Pantoran asked, sounding a little disappointed.

Hera fought back family feeling she didn’t know she still had and resisted the urge to reply unfortunately.  Instead she said, “Last I heard, yes.  There was some scandal a few years ago, but they’re still around.”

“There is a clan that has died out, though, yes?”

Hera bit her lip. “There are a few, mostly smaller patrician clans.  You’re probably thinking about the Indahs.  They were a curial clan like the Fenns and the Sy – the Securas.  They were in a –”  She had to search for the word in Basic before going on. “– a vendetta, a blood feud, with the Fortunas.  That’s another curial clan.  The Fortunas tricked the curial family – the Indah Hid Indah – into agreeing to peace talks.  When the Indah Hid Indah and the heads of the patrician families in the clan were all at table for the banquet, the Fortunas slaughtered them.  Then they hunted down all of the other Indah patricians and killed them too, not to mention most of the plebeians.  When news got out, the Republic Senate wanted the Jedi to come in and arbitrate it, but the Curia – that’s the governing body on Ryloth – wouldn’t let their ships land.  They sent the Fortuna – the clan head, I mean – into the Bright Lands and ostracized most of the patrician family heads, and banned the Fortunas from being able to vote in the Curia for twenty years.  They also banned the vendetta, so there aren’t supposed to be blood feuds anymore. The only Indah patricians who survived were the ones who had married into other clans cum manu, and when you do that you give up your clan rights – they weren’t legally Indahs anymore, I mean, they were legally members of their spouse’s clans.  I know at least one petitioned to revoke her marriage, but there weren’t enough Indahs left for there to still be a clan.  And the Fortunas had destroyed their lararia and kalikori, burned the shrines. That’s supposed to destroy the clan’s connection to their ancestors and the genii – the – the earth-gods, I suppose is the closest thing you can say in Basic.  Since the Indah Hid Indah were a curial clan, they traced their line in direct descent from one of the gods – I think it might have been the –”  She fumbled for the Basic again, aware that her Ryloth accent was starting to come out very strongly, and if anyone knew enough to recognize it, that it was the purest high-caste Twi’leki.  “The Son of Sands.  There are other curial clans descended from the Son of Sands too but the Indah Hid Indah were very, very old, as old as – the Fenns.”

She had almost said “as old as the Syndulla Tann Syndulla.”  One of the surviving Indahs had actually been married to the Syndulla prime heir at the time, and had almost succeeded in convincing her and her twin brother to declare vendetta against the Fortunas themselves before the Syndulla clan head had gotten wind of it and stopped them.

“This was a long time ago?” asked the Pantoran.

“Not really,” Hera admitted. “About two hundred years.”  She tensed in expectation of a comment about how barbaric Twi’leks were, never mind that there were humans on plenty of worlds who still practiced various forms of blood feud, but none came.

“An old custom?” the Pantoran said instead.

“Um, yes,” Hera said. She was too embarrassed about having given a speech about the Hid Indah Massacre to offer up that the vendetta went back to the days of the gods, when the children of the Mother of Mountains had torn Ryloth apart in war with each other after the Son of Sands had murdered his sister’s lover.  It was why so much of the planet was desert, except for the equatorial jungle; their oldest records showed that millennia earlier much more of the planet had been jungle and there had still been enough ocean to separate the continents.  “What does that have to do with the ruti’ara tusks?”

“Ah.  Nothing.”  The Pantoran beamed at the case again.

Hera let out her breath through her teeth, annoyed.  She could feel heat in her cheeks, traveling up to her ear-cones and the base of her lekku.

“The marvelous thing about the Jedi is that they were so very, very old and had members from all over the galaxy, all kinds of species, so customs, traditions, peoples – animals, even – were preserved within them like insects in amber, passed down from master to apprentice over so many generations few sentient minds can really comprehend them.  They provide a window into a past where there are no other windows – no holograms, no texts, no oral memories.  And yet that past was preserved amongst the Jedi – it was still a living thing.  The Empire might have you believe that the Jedi stole children from thousands of worlds, stripped them of their identities, their cultures, their species, and made them all Jedi and nothing else, but if that was true, then how would there be any of this?”  He swept an arm around at the room and its display cases.  “When I was a very young, there were pirates preying on my family’s station, and a Jedi came to deal with them – a Togruta woman, very beautiful.  She wore the akul teeth headdress of a Togruta warrior, an animal which those among the Togruta who wish to prove their strength hunt and kill.  Why would she do that if she was not Togruta as much as Jedi?”

He looked back at the case and sighed. “Many of those here are here for the money, or are enthusiasts for the forbidden – some for the Jedi.  Others enjoy beautiful things, the rarer the better.”  He flicked a glance at the Quarren who had passed Hera earlier, his expression disapproving.  “When they were destroyed, it was not merely the Jedi who were lost, but a thousand others who were preserved only amongst the Jedi.”

“Most of the people on those worlds pay attention to their own history,” Hera said hesitantly.

“Ah.  Yes.  Some do. Others would, but their histories were stripped from them – the Hutts, as I said.  The Empire, more recently.  Even the Republic, in its way, as you said yourself.”

Hera blinked. “Did I?”

“When you said that your people would not allow the Republic to take over the punishment of its wrongdoers,” the Pantoran explained patiently. “Others were not so stubborn; at other points, the Republic would not have cared about their wishes.”

“They’re not –”  my people, she wanted to finish, but she couldn’t get the words out.

“But sometimes history is just lost,” he went on sadly. “Not maliciously or in war or natural disaster, it just…falls out of use, and then out of memory, and if there are traces at all, then they are traces we cannot recognize.  By the time one realizes it is gone, it is just not there to find.”

Hera bit her lip.

“You make it sound as if the Jedi are only the composite of others, with nothing of o – of their own,” the Inquisitor said quietly from behind Hera.

She almost jumped out of her skin.  She hadn’t heard him approach, and from the way the Pantoran flinched he hadn’t noted the Inquisitor’s arrival either.

“No – no, of course not,” he said, when he had gotten control of himself. “But my – my interests have always lain elsewhere.  There are so many who are interested in the Jedi and only the Jedi for what they themselves are, and not all that they represent.”

“I see,” the Inquisitor said gravely.  He sounded more amused than anything else, which Hera decided to cautiously take as a good sign.

Hera half turned so that she could watch him and the Pantoran at the same time.  He was looking at the case, not at the Pantoran, his gaze moving over the beautiful objects inside.  She realized abruptly that he had used the present tense, not the past.  And that he had started to say “our,” not “their.”

“You are an enthusiast of the Jedi, perhaps?” the Pantoran said, recovering.

Hera tensed again, but the Inquisitor just raised an eyebrow. “I have an interest.”

The Pantoran turned to Hera again.  “And you, you are a student of history, I see?”

The Imperial Academy’s version of history was “things were terrible until the Emperor took control” but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Just a few things,” she said instead. “But I enjoyed our conversation,” she added, because she did know how to be polite; not something she had learned from the Empire.  She took a chance and laid her hand on the Inquisitor’s arm, suspecting that he was probably aware of her brief hesitation before she made contact. “I think we’ve seen what we came here to see,” she told him.

He was tense under her palm, giving her the impression that he didn’t like to be touched any more than she did.  None of it showed in his face as he glanced down towards her and nodded.

“I will see you tomorrow evening, perhaps,” the Pantoran said.

“Perhaps,” Hera agreed, and hoped a little vaguely that she wouldn’t have to arrest him.

She released the Inquisitor as soon as they turned to walk away.  They were silent all the way up the stairs into the noisy, crowded club, as they retrieved their speeder bikes, and on the ride back to the Ghost, the wind from their passage whipping Hera’s lekku back behind her.

Hera was stowing her bike and trying to decide whether the appropriate thing to do in this situation would be to debrief the evening when the Inquisitor said, very tiredly, “I’ll see you in the morning,” and vanished up the ladder.  A few moments later she heard his cabin door slide open and shut again.

“Well,” she said to Chopper, who had come down to make sure she was all right. “That was interesting.”

#cut scenes and concept writing #reluctant roommates au tag #as always comments are appreciated #I'm trying for a bit more plottiness with this concept

[fandom-smut-shots]

Shonen University 1

This is the biggest crossover I've ever attempted. I can't guarantee updates, cuz it took me two years just to finish the first chapter, but I've also been more interested it recently so hopefully that counts for something. My Hero Academia, Naruto, Haikyuu, Fruits Basket, Miraculous Ladybug, Voltron, and Adventure Time characters are all enrolled in the same college. Follow them through classes, jobs, relationships, and shenanigans.

Shonen University

A/N: I had originally planned on only using anime characters, hence the title, but I received several comments when I announced the story’s conception requesting that I include cartoons as well, so here we are.

Now, had I left it as anime only, I probably would have kept the Japanese tradition of referring to everyone as their surnames, but I’m American and there are non-Japanese cartoon characters in it too so it was easier to use first names.

 September – Freshmen

         Rose-pink curls bounced relentlessly in the wind as Mina Ashido ventured towards her assigned dormitory building. A large duffle bag rested against her back, the strap of which was slung tightly over her right shoulder. Her right hand grasped the material to keep the bag in place as her fur-trimmed boot-clad feet shuffled up the steps that led inside. Wide golden eyes scanned the numbers tacked above each door, searching diligently for suite 105.

         A squeal escaped her lips as her gaze settled on the appropriate door, and she nearly ripped the plank of wood off of its hinges with how eagerly she tugged it open. Throwing her duffle to the floor, she looked around the quaint kitchen and sizeable living room, taking notice of the open bathroom and two moderately-sized bedrooms. Initials were printed upon each door, assigning two students to each room.

         Footsteps sounded behind her, and Mina spun on her heel, eager to greet her new roommates. Standing in the doorway was a tall, thin, shapely blonde with seafoam green eyes. Her long, straight, platinum locks were pulled up into a high ponytail atop her head, and her narrowed gaze scanned the room with a disapproving scowl on her lips.

         “Hi!” the rose-haired freshman greeted loudly, thrusting her hand into the newcomer’s personal space for her to shake. “Mina Ashido! Looks like we’re roommates!”

         The blonde scoffed, stepping further into the room and ignoring Mina’s hand entirely. “Ino Yamanaka. Are the other two here yet?”

         If rejection affected Mina, she didn’t show it. She offered Ino a shrug. “Not that I’ve seen. I just got here myself. I’m sure they’re on their way!”

         Ino’s eyes fell upon the initials printed upon the bedroom doors, and her jaw dropped slightly. The left door displayed M.A. and H.T., presumably Mina and one of the girls who had yet to arrive. But what disturbed the blonde was that beneath her own initials were the letters S.H., and dread flooded her core at the idea of who might have been assigned to her room.

         “Aw, I wanted to be the first one here!” came a new voice, and Ino froze in place. Mina was ready to greet the third roommate, offering her a hand to shake and a friendly grin. This one, unlike Ino, had accepted the hand and offered a pleasant smile as well.

         “Sakura Haruno,” she introduced after learning Mina’s name. Releasing the other girl’s hand, she reached up to tuck a strand of blush-pink hair behind her ear. “And what’s your-“ She cut herself off with a gasp before her mint green eyes narrowed angrily. “Ino-pig.”

         “Billboard brow,” Ino countered, turning around to face Sakura.

         “Oh, you two know each other?” Mina guessed, confused by the evident conflict.

         “We go way back,” Sakura replied with a nonchalant shrug. “Out of my way, Ino. I need to take my things to my room.”

         “Our room,” Ino corrected with a false gag in her voice.

         Sakura took one step forward before promptly stopping in her tracks. “Our room? Oh, no. No way. Not happening.”

         “I don’t like it any more than you do,” Ino grimaced, “but I’m sure you received the same alert that I did.”

         “’Roommate assignments are final and non-negotiable’,” Mina recalled from her acceptance letter.

         “Ugh,” Sakura scoffed. “Can’t we at least switch bedrooms?” She turned towards Mina. “Would that be alright with you?”

         “I don’t mind,” Mina shrugged, “but what if our dorm advisor finds out? Won’t we get in trouble?”

         “She’s a goody-goody like you,” Ino sneered. “You two can share a room, and I’ll room with whoever H.T. is.”

         “Himiko Toga!”

         Three pairs of eyes turned to greet the final resident of dorm 105 – a tiny blonde whose sandy hair was tied up into two extremely messy buns. Her golden eyes were large and glittering in the light, taking in the faces of her three roommates.

         “Who am I rooming with?” she inquired, dropping a large suitcase to the floor with a thud.

         “You’re supposed to be with me,” Mina replied, her gaze darting between Toga’s grin and the two girls who appeared ready to fight, “but these two have some kind of feud, so we might swap.”

         “Unless you’re a good girl like her,” Ino commented, jerking her head in Mina’s direction.

         “Oh, not at all,” Himiko answered bluntly. “I’m not much of a rule-follower.”

         “Great,” Ino nodded. “Himiko and I will take this room, and you two take the other.” She opened the door that presented her initials and sauntered inside, leaving the other three to follow suit.

           Adrien exhaled a sigh of relief upon finally reaching his dorm, suite 118. Tanned fingers wrapped around the doorknob and twisted, and his shoulder pressed the door open. The blond stepped inside, stopping in his tracks upon discovering two of his roommates already situated in the common room.

         “Hey, Nathaniel,” he greeted with a soft smile.

         The black-haired boy seated on the floor, back pressed against the wall as he hunched over his sketch pad, glanced up at the familiar voice. “Oh, hello Adrien. We’re roommates?”

         “Looks like it,” the blond replied. “Have you been here long?”

         Nathaniel shrugged, his attention refocusing on his project, the pencil in his hand gliding across the paper. “About half an hour. I threw my stuff into my room and then got inspired for the next page of my comic.”

         “Awesome!” Adrien beamed. He approached his former classmate, sliding down to a seated position beside him. “I’ve been waiting for an update.”

         The artist smiled, ignoring the heat rising to his cheeks at the compliment. Adrien’s lime green eyes darted around the room, and his brows furrowed at the sight of the other roommate sleeping on the floor. Adrien had ignored him in the excitement of seeing Nathaniel again, but now it was at the forefront of his focus.

         He turned to the artist. “Who’s that?”

         Nathaniel glanced up, following the blond’s nod towards the corner of the room. “No idea. He was in that same position when I got here. Wasn’t sure if I should bother him.”

         Sandals tapped gently against the hardwood floor, alerting the two conscious students of their final roommate’s presence. Adrien and Nathaniel glanced up in unison, meeting the energetic gaze of a muscular boy with bright crimson hair and matching eyes.

         “Hey!” he greeted loudly, earning a grumble from the boy sleeping on the floor. The redhead ignored it, stepping further into the room and shuffling towards the pair sitting against the wall. “Eijirou Kirishima!”

         His hand thrust out towards the two.

         Adrien accepted it with a sincere smile. “Adrien Agreste.”

         “Nathaniel Kurtzberg,” the artist offered with a nod, continuing his sketch.

         Eijirou looked around, glancing towards the final roommate. “How long has he been asleep?”

         “No idea,” the blond shrugged. “He was there when we both got here.”

         “Looks like a chill bro,” Eijirou declared. He padded across the common room in the direction of the bedrooms, gazing at the initials printed into each door. “I don’t recall either of your names starting with S,” he commented, glancing over his shoulder at the pair. “Looks like he’s my roomie.”

         “If he’s always that tired, it may even feel like you have your own room,” Nathaniel commented, setting aside his pencil in favor of picking up his eraser.

         Eijirou barked out a laugh as he trudged into his bedroom, immediately unpacking his belongings.

           Gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar filtered through the air of the dormitory hall. Katsuki Bakugo grumbled under his breath as he approached suite 207, shouldering open the door. Sitting cross-legged on the floor was a boy with two-toned blue hair, plucking gingerly at his instrument.

         “Who the hell are you?” Katsuki inquired in lieu of a greeting, closing the door behind him.

         “Luka Couffaine,” the musician replied without looking up from his guitar. “What’s your name?”

         “Katsuki Bakugo,” came the gruff reply as he lifted a hand to brush through his ash blond spikes.

         “Ah, you get the solo room,” Luka commented. “Sounds rather fitting. Your melody is very… antisocial.”

         “My melody?” Katsuki questioned, dropping his duffle bag to the floor and glaring at the blue-haired boy. “The fuck are you talking about?”

         “I can sense melodies in people,” the musician explained, finally looking up at his roommate. “It’s kind of like seeing someone’s aura. It’s a way of reading people. Your melody is angry, like this.”

         The pace at which he’d been strumming his guitar altered intensely, switching from gentle and soothing to harsh and edgy, akin to the music one would hear at a metal concert.

         “Whatever,” the blond grunted, retrieving his duffle from the floor and carrying it to his room.

         The front door opened, causing him to stop in his tracks. He waited for the newcomer to speak, to greet them, to introduce himself.

         “Hey,” came a monotone salutation.

         Katsuki spun on his heel. “Ah, Eye Bags. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

         Luka glanced up at the derogatory nickname with a frown, taking in their new roommate. He supposed it was an accurate description – dark circles formed under violet eyes, offsetting the boy’s pale skin. Royal purple locks topped his head, wavy and thick and sticking out in whichever direction they chose.

         “Hitoshi Shinso,” he introduced, nodding towards the boy on the floor.

         “Luka Couffaine,” the musician returned with a small wave. “I’m assuming you two know each other?”

         “We attended the same high school,” Hitoshi replied.

         “You two are sharing a room,” Katsuki informed him.

         “Sounds fine to me,” Hitoshi nodded.

           Music blasted through the speakers of a nearby dorm, and Gaara frowned to himself as he hunted for his assigned room. He desperately hoped that he hadn’t been roomed with party students. He was antisocial on his best days, and loud noise was something he associated with pain and suffering. His slender fingers grasped tighter at the strap of his duffle bag, clutching it as close as possible as he shuffled up to his dorm room. Suite 219. He inhaled deeply before opening the door, mint green eyes scanning his surroundings.

         No one else had arrived, causing anticipation to twist in his stomach. He’d never done particularly well with change, or new people, or unfamiliar situations. He took in the two bedroom doors; one was imprinted with two sets of initials, while the other held only one. A three-student dorm, then. He noted that his initials were printed alongside someone else’s, and he only hoped that his roommate was similarly antisocial rather than overtly friendly.

         Footsteps approached the doorway, and Gaara turned to face the open door. Before him stood a familiar face, one that made him narrow his eyes. Pale skin and raven hair that, even after maturing, refused to be tamed. The figure in question seemed surprised to see the redhead in his dorm room, his black eyes slightly widened.

         “Gaara,” he offered as a greeting.

         “Sasuke,” the redhead countered. “How’s Naruto?”

         Sasuke shrugged in response. “Haven’t seen the idiot in a long time. You would know better than I do how he’s doing.”

         Gaara turned his gaze towards the floor as Sasuke moved further into the room. They both turned towards the door upon hearing new footsteps coming towards their room.

         “Uhm, hi,” the newcomer greeted. “I’m Shoto Todoroki.”

         Both Gaara and Sasuke stared at the boy with two-toned hair and heterochromia.

         “Gaara,” the redhead replied softly, nodding at his new roommate.

         “Sasuke,” the raven-haired boy offered.

         Nothing else was said as Shoto carried his bag into the room marked with his initials.

           Marc sat on the floor with his back to the wall, scribbling furiously at the notebook in his lap. Upon entering his new dorm room, he was flooded with inspiration for the next chapter of his comic book. Taking advantage of the quiet, empty space, he let his ideas flow onto the pages.

         The door opened, though Marc’s focus remained on his notebook. He was only pulled from his thoughts by a chipper, “Hi! My name’s Izuku, but everyone calls me Deku!”

         The black-haired boy lifted his gaze, offering his roommate a polite smile. “I’m Marc.”

         “What are you writing?” Izuku inquired, his emerald green curls bouncing as he dropped to the floor beside the author.

         “My friend and I started a comic book together,” Marc explained, displaying the cover of his notebook to Izuku, which bore the title of the comic. “I write and he illustrates.”

         “That’s amazing!” the green-haired boy beamed excitedly.

         Marc smiled softly at the compliment, his eyes darting towards the door upon hearing footsteps.

         “Deku!” exclaimed an energetic blond, his entire being radiating electric energy. “Looks like we’re roommates!”

         “Hey, Denki!” Izuku greeted cheerfully.

         “What’s your name, dude?” Denki questioned the black-haired boy, dropping his suitcase to the floor.

         “Marc,” the writer introduced, offering the blond a small wave.

         “Aw, man!” a new voice whined from the doorway. “I’m the last one here!”

         Unkempt canary yellow spikes met everyone’s view as the other three students turned to face their final roommate. His azure eyes were wide with excitement despite his voiced disappointment.

         “Hey, man!” Denki greeted loudly. “Don’t worry, you haven’t missed anything! I’m Denki Kaminari – what’s your name?”

         “Naruto Uzumaki!” the slightly shorter blond returned.

         “Deku,” Izuku offered. He then gestured to the boy beside him. “This is Marc.”

         The writer offered him an appreciative smile, waving once more at his final roommate.

         “How are the rooms split?” Denki inquired, his golden eyes wandering around before settling on the bedroom doors.

         Izuku followed his gaze, humming as he read the inscribed initials. “Looks like it’s you with Naruto, and me with Marc.”

         Denki turned towards his fellow blond. “That good with you, man?”

         Naruto offered him a grin. “Hell yeah!”

         Izuku looked back at Marc, tilting his head demurely. “Mind bunking with me?”

         “Not at all,” Marc chuckled softly.

         “It’s settled then!” Denki cheered, dragging his suitcase across the living room and into his bedroom. “Roommate party this weekend so we can get to know each other?”

         “Like we used to back at UA!” Izuku beamed fondly. “I’m in!”

         “Sounds like fun!” Naruto exclaimed.

         “Sure, I’m down,” Marc agreed.

         With another boisterous cheer, the blonds disappeared behind their door, leaving Izuku and Marc to chat about Marc’s comic and how Denki hadn’t changed a bit since high school.

#shonen university #shonenuniversity #crossover #college au #my hero academia #fruits basket #naruto #miraculous ladybug #haikyuu #adventure time #voltron

[writingfairycat]

Help My Mind Shut Up

Help My Mind Shut Up - Carlos x Reader (Read here on ao3.)

1,445 words

Summary: You can’t sleep, so you call your boyfriend Carlos for comfort and help.

Additional Tags: gender-ambiguous reader, school stress, phone call, grounding methods, anxiety

As you lay in bed, yawning, you stared at the ceiling of your dorm room. It wasn’t smooth in texture; it had small bumps and ridges like a landscape. Your eyes strained in the darkness to trace the lines. Some of them were neat waves. Sine and cosine waves. The sine of theta over cosine of theta equals tangent theta—

You had been falling asleep for a minute there, but now you were wide awake again. You rolled over and looked at the time on your phone. You squinted at the bright screen and read 2:15 A.M. How was that possible?

Across the room, your roommate slept soundly. You pouted. It wasn’t fair. You wanted to sleep but your mind wouldn’t shut up. You would gladly let Queen Rapunzel hit you in the head with her frying pan if it knocked you out. Maybe she could also sit down with you and review the reasons for Corona’s alliance with Arendelle—augh! Shut up!

It wasn’t time to think about that. It was time to sleep, and it had been for a while. But you couldn’t.

You squinted at your phone again. You didn’t want to disturb your roommate’s slumber, but maybe you could talk to someone else. Yawning, you opened your contacts and tapped to call your boyfriend.

The phone rang thrice before you heard Carlos de Vil’s groggy, perplexed voice say your name on the other end.

“Hey.” You spoke softly so you wouldn’t wake your roommate.

“Hey.” Carlos’s voice was equally soft, probably so he wouldn’t wake up Jay. “Why are you calling so late? Is something wrong?”

The worry in your boyfriend’s voice brought tears to your eyes. Well, it was a combination of his worry and your stress. Ugh, the stress was enough that pretty much anything could’ve made you cry right then.

“I can’t get to sleep,” you said.

Carlos let that sit for a beat before replying. “Something’s upsetting you. Do you—yawn—want to talk about it?”

“Um. I guess I could?” You stayed on the call but returned your eyes to the ceiling. “I can’t stop thinking about schoolwork.”

“Mm,” Carlos hummed. “Any class in particular?”

“Mostly precalculus and history.”

“History of Auradon?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you still have homework to do?”

“No, I . . . I mean, I attempted all of it, but I’m pretty sure I got at least half my precalc homework wrong.”

“I can help you find a tutor in the morning.”

“Do you know someone who could tutor me?” you asked.

“I’ll be able to find someone,” Carlos said with a yawn. “Remember, I’m friends with the king of Auradon, and he knows a lot of people. I’ll find someone to help you.”

“Thanks, hon. That’s so sweet of you.”

“And you said HIstory of Auradon was bugging you, too?”

You sighed. “Yeah. There’s a unit test at the end of the week and I’m so not ready.”

“There are definitely people who can help you with that,” Carlos said. How he managed to sound so confident while also sounding sleepy, you couldn’t figure out.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Are you still feeling bad?” Carlos asked.

The lines on the ceiling turned into royal family trees. You squeezed your eyes shut to block them out. “Gah! Yes!”

“What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know,” you grumbled. “My mind won’t shut up.”

“Hmm.” Your boyfriend was silent on the other end, but you could hear the gears turning in his head. “We need to find something for you to focus on so your brain won’t be able to think of schoolwork.”

“What do I focus on, though?”

“Um . . . have you tried counting sheep?”

You laughed. “Oh, I tried. I can’t count normally anymore. I try to count, but my mind goes to pi over six, pi over three, pi over two, two pi over three—”

“Okay, okay,” Carlos said. “Let’s stay away from numbers. And lines. And curves. And . . . what is the test on Friday about?”

“Royal alliances,” you said with a groan.

“Then let’s stay away from royalty, too.”

“Hard to get away from around here,” you said.

Carlos laughed. “You’re right about that. On my first day in Auradon, every other person I met was royalty.”

You laughed. “I’d love to go far away, maybe second to the right and straight on till morning, if it meant I never had to look at royal lineages ever again.”

“Oh!” Carlos almost interrupted. “I have an idea! Tell me five things you can see right now.”

“Uh . . . it’s dark.”

“Oh, well, um.” You could picture the adorable sheepish look on his face. “Well, it’s not completely dark, is it? You can still see a few things? Maybe five things?”

You looked around the room. Your roommate’s bed appeared colorless in the dark, but you could see its outline. “Bed.”

Between the two beds, the moon shone through the window. “Window. Moon. Curtains. Five things?”

“Five things.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Um . . .” You looked at your desk. “Desk.”

“Good,” said Carlos. “Now what are four things you can touch right now?”

“Uh . . . phone. Bedspread. Pajamas. Um . . .” You switched your phone to your other hand so you could reach out to touch something, anything. The wire of the phone charger brushed against your fingers. “Phone charger.”

“That’s good.” He yawned. “Can you tell me three things you can hear?”

“Your voice,” you said, smiling. Carlos chuckled on the other end of the line. “Your laugh. And . . . um . . . oh! My voice.”

“Good job. What are two things you can smell?”

“Hmm.” You thought about it. You were so used to how your room smelled now, in contrast to the beginning of the school year, that you couldn’t smell it anymore. “Does my room count if I can’t actually smell it?”

“I don’t think so,” Carlos said gently. “Is there anything in the room that smells different?”

You inhaled deeply, trying to focus on your surroundings. You smelled . . . pencils? “Pencils,” you whispered. “I sharpened my pencils not too long before I went to bed.”

“All right. Anything else?”

You sniffed the room again. “There’s a faint smell of laundry detergent on my blanket,” you said.

“That’s your two things,” said Carlos. “One more: what’s one thing you can taste?”

“One thing I can taste,” you echoed. You opened your mouth to taste the air. Nothing. Wait. No. There was—

“There’s still a bit of garlic taste in the back of my mouth,” you said, trying not to giggle. “From dinner. I guess I didn’t get it all when I brushed my teeth.”

Carlos laughed. “Don’t you brush your tongue?” he teased.

“Shut up,” you said between laughs.

“Sounds like I’ve woken you up more,” Carlos said. “Sorry.”

“Maybe, but it’s okay.” You yawned. “Or maybe I’m not more awake?”

Your boyfriend let out a soft, warm chuckle. “Is your mind quieter now?”

“Yeah, but . . . I’m worried it’ll become noisy again. And what if I run out of things I see and hear and touch?”

“I’ve found it helpful to list other things,” Carlos said. “I would list, just to myself, all the dog breeds I can name.”

“I could probably only name five,” you admitted.

“It doesn’t have to be dog breeds,” he said. “It could be anything you know well that gets your mind focused on one thing. Cat breeds, moons of other planets, celebrities with blond hair, InstaRoyal models.”

You laughed and yawned again. “I might try cat breeds, at least at first.”

“That’s good. I hope you get to sleep soon, babe,” Carlos said in his gentle voice.

“Thank you, hon.”

“Good night. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Your phone beeped, signaling the end of the call. You placed your phone back on your nightstand and returned your unfocused gaze to the ceiling.

Cat breeds, Carlos’s voice echoed in your memory. You imagined cuddling with him on Evie’s couch, his arms encircling you as you listed off cat breeds.

Siamese. Persian. Burmese. Tonkinese. Oriental Shorthair. Oriental Longhair. Himalayan. Him a sittin’. Him a standin’. Oh, he a-comin’. Heheh. Focus. Cat breeds, cat breeds. Uh, Ragdoll? The rexes, the rexes. Cornish Rex. Devon Rex. British Shorthair. Russian Blue. The blue one from France, what was its name? Bordeaux? Or was that a type of candy? Maybe you would have candy tomorrow.

What were you thinking about?

Right. Cat breeds.

The swimming one, the swimming one—the Turkish Van. Persian. You already said that. Abyss . . . Abyssinian? Yeah. Sphinx. Wirehair. The ears, the ears ones. Scottish Fold. American Curl. Amer . . . American Shorthair. Norwegian Forest Cat. Maine C . . .

You had fallen asleep.

#disney descendants #carlos descendants #descendants carlos #carlos de vil #carlos de vil x reader #descendants fanfiction #carlos x reader #reader insert #my content #original posts